#tell me not to make this into a drabble cause i might

[dipperscavern]

robb stark would comfort you after a nightmare and then fuck you to sleep send tweet

[realcube]

— SAIKI RELATIONSHIP HCS

☆ very hesitant to hug you/hold hands bc he is afraid he might shatter all your bones. prefers kisses, less can go wrong

☆ except that one time he kissed you and was so flustered that a whole galaxy exploded

☆ but it was one of those really distant, useless ones so he moved on

☆ or that time you held his hand and he literally started levitating ??

☆ finishes exams in two seconds then spends the rest of the time annoying you

'i don't mean to disturb you but i noticed you put the wrong answer for question four' 'get out of my head!'

☆ i already wrote a drabble about this but he morphs into different objects to 'prank' you

☆ you always want him to shrink bc what's the point of having a psychic bf if you can't carry him around on your person like a polly pocket

☆ he's very apprehensive about it, however one day he finally agrees to it because you have a shift at work and you really wanted him to join you but it would be weird if he just showed up to your place of work unannounced so he shrunk and you carried him around in your back pocket

☆ that is until you almost sat on him!! and when he dived out to avoid being crushed, he fell onto the sticky work floor covered in dust

☆ still hasn't fully recovered 😿

☆ omg if you are insecure about a physical feature of yours , instead of using his powers to change you, he will use his mind control on the entire world so that your insecurity is now the beauty standard (similar to what he did with his hair)

☆ he doesn't use mind control on you though bc it's rude

☆ in fact he tries to avoid using his powers on you all together bc it would only cause trouble (with the exception of telepathy bc he likes to speak to you.. unlike he does with most people)

☆ and he's very strict with that ethic of his

☆ which is nice and all, and really easy until he does something super embarrassing in front of you

☆ like you see him scream at a cockroach or smth

☆ and he is SO tempted to use memory alteration on you so you could just forget that ever happened

☆ but he just can't bring himself to do it

☆ OR when your birthday was before his so he got you a present but didn't do that much else, but when it was time for his birthday and you went all out, he so wanted to either go back in time and do better or just alter your memory so you think he went all out too

☆ oh and passive aggression doesn't work on him ofc

☆ if you are ever mad or upset at him for whatever reason, you can't be like 'hmph i'm not gonna tell you what you did wrong, you just have to know :<' bc he can.. y'know.. read your mind

☆ and he also knows exactly what to do to make you feel better and forgive him, every single time

☆ plus you can never stay mad at him for long anyway bc he's just too cute!!

☆ too shy to admit that he wants to spend more time with you so he will use his powers as some sort of excuse

as you're about to leave saiki's room, he lies, 'wait. don't go. i have had a precognition that something terrible is going to happen to you if you do.' 'really?' you raise an eyebrow. 'and what might that be?' he wasn't really ready for any follow up questions so he stutters and thinks of the scariest scenario he can 'toritsuka.' ... 'toritsuka is going to do what? jump me?' 'no. just toritsuka.'

☆ for your birthday or anniversary he does something you call the 'saiki special' where he duplicates himself to give you a full body massage

☆ it's what dreams are made of !!!

☆ but yeah it's a lot of effort so he saves it for special occasions

☆ he would so love to watch trashy reality tv shows with you

☆ but he so uses it against you

☆ like if you are ever studying and are like 'why am i working so hard when you are psychic and can literally set us up for the easy life 😫'

☆ he'll be like.. you know who else never worked hard a day in they're life.. the kardashians!! do you really want to end up like that??

☆ and when you say yes this is the face he makes 😐

☆ dw though bc as i said before he will be in your head during exams so he can help you a little

☆ his love language is actually spoonfeeding you food and desserts

☆ and yes he actually uses his hands opposed to his mind to control the spoon, just to show you that being a psychic doesn't mean he gets to cut corners!

[gloomwitchwrites]

Secret relationship and they find out you're being transferred to a different team.

Anon...how DARE you. But really, the angst that this prompt is giving is everything. I want to warn readers now that I was not nice with this one. There is a lot of angst happening here. There is nothing spicy about it. It's all pain with a little comfort sprinkled in for a few of our boys.

(Sorry not sorry)

These are presented in four individual double drabbles.

Content & Warnings: angst, mild emotional hurt/comfort, secret relationships, yearning, heartbreak, 141!reader

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // imagines & what if masterlist

John "Soap" MacTavish

“We’ve got two weeks!”

“Soap.”

“Can you believe that?”

“Johnny.”

Soap’s smile remains but melts slightly. “What?”

“I’m leaving.”

He chuckles. “We both are.”

You shake your head. “No. I’m leaving the team.”

Soap frowns slightly. “Retirement?” He shrugs. “Seem a bit young.” That smile returns and he saunters forward, his large hands grasping your hips. “Means we can go public.”

He leans in for a kiss, but your heart isn’t in it. Soap realizes the reluctance the moment your lips meet. “It’s something else,” he says.

You nod because that is all you can manage. Originally, Captain Price said he wanted to tell the team together, but he doesn’t know about you and Johnny. Soap needs to know first before the rest. If not, it’ll come as a blow and a betrayal. You can’t do that to him no matter what Captain Price says.

“I’m being transferred,” you murmur, voice breaking slightly.

Soap does not retreat. He rests his forehead against your own, eyes closing as he inhales. His arms slide from your hips to your back, drawing you against him.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper.

“We’ll figure it out,” he says rubbing your back. “We’ll figure it out together.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Kyle enters the meeting room. It’s the last one before everyone breaks for a month.

But there is someone missing.

Laswell and Captain Price talk quietly, their heads bent in conversation. Soap is showing something to Ghost on his phone.

You are not among them. You are not in your usual spot.

Laswell glances up and Price clears his throat. “We can start.”

“Hold up, Captain. We’re missing one.”

Kyle gestures toward the chair you usually sit in and Price frowns.

“Transferred on another mission,” interrupts Laswell.

Kyle says nothing, sinking into his chair. He listens but most of it slips right out of his head. The only thing he can think about is that you’re not here and you didn’t say anything.

When Laswell and Price are finished, and everyone begins to exit, Kyle lingers, intent on talking to Price.

“Not gonna talk about our missing team member?”

“Nothing to say,” shrugs Price. “Transferred this morning.”

Kyle swallows down the emotion rising in his throat. No one knows about the two of you, and if he pushes too much, he might reveal something he shouldn’t.

“Coming back?” asks Kyle.

“Eventually,” answers Price. “Not sure when.”

Eventually. There’s hope then.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“You’re leaving.”

“Simon.”

“Did you plan on telling me?” You remain silent and Simon shakes his head. “Waiting for Price to do it?”

“That’s not true.”

Simon takes a step forward, entering your space. “I saw the transfer on his desk. I saw the date. How long have you known?”

“Does that matter?” you ask.

“Of course it does,” he snaps.

Simon is never angry, not with you. His anger is subtle which makes it more terrifying. This is something else. Simon is hurt, and you’re the cause of it.

“I’m sorry you found out like this. I planned on telling you.”

“When?” He’s closer now, towering over you.

“When I had more information.”

“More information?”

“I don’t know where I’m going or with who,” you add.

“Might not tell you until you get there. Happens all the time.”

You understand his meaning and know that Simon is right. Would you have left without telling him anything, only saying something once you’d left?

No. This thing between you might be tangled but he is the only one you want.

“Are you upset?” you ask.

Simon deflates. “Not with you.” He tugs you against him, creating a cocoon of warmth. “Never.”

John Price

The transfer papers mockingly stare at Price.

All this time, he believed he could have you without repercussion. Didn’t matter that you were another member of the team and his subordinate. You were his, and Price could protect you.

But these papers came from someone above him, and he cannot refuse them. No matter how much he wants to.

And no one knows what the two of you do when there isn’t anyone looking. But now, that’s shattered. Broken. And Price must grieve for your departure in silence. Price has already raged. He punched the wall until his knuckles bled.

After that, he walked until he came to terms with it.

You don’t know yet. You have no idea. Telling you will be the hardest part. What will happen? How will the two of you move forward? Can the secrets remain, or will it all need to be out in the open?

Price sighs and runs his hands over his face.

This is a punishment. Must be. Why else is it happening?

There is a loud knock at the door. Again, Price sighs, knowing that he has to face the reality of the situation.

You are on the other side.

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[eupheme]

Your best friend Wade who always jokingly flirts with you the way he flirts with everyone - and you hate it because you have a real genuine crush on him and the flirting doesn’t mean anything… does it? It has to take a mutual friend to be like “oh my god he’s in love with you and doesn’t know how to tell you, so that’s why he’s always joking about boners” (please and thank u ilu 😌)

omg avo this kicked my ass, the amount of pining for Wade as he (jokingly, you think) flirts with you would be off the charts 🥲💖 I wrote a little drabble with how that might go, I love you and your ideas - thanks so much for sending this to me!!!

— cause every time we touch (i get this feeling)

best friend!wade wilson x mutant!reader

<1k | flirting, dirty jokes, heaps of pining

Blow job. Leg Spreader. Slippery Nipple. Liquid Viagra. Sex on the Pool Table. Pink Silk Panties.

Each time Wade comes into Sister Margaret’s - which is four or five times a week - he asks for dirtier and more obscure drinks.

"Wishful thinking", he tells you, each time.

Even with the roll of your eyes, you have to admit that it keeps you on your toes. That you look forward to seeing your best friend so often - tamping down the jolt in your belly, night after night.

Reminding yourself that yes, he got you this job, but he's not here to see you.

That this always was his spot.

It had been an easy sell. Used to working overnight shifts - security, back then. After the disaster with Weasel, they had been desperate for a replacement. Wade had come to you immediately, dropping to his knees as you opened the door.

Winning you over with a "you could literally get paid to hang out with me. How is this not a win-win-win? How is this not your dream job?"

And here, you didn't have to hide what or who you were. Reading feelings and intent were a bonus, when a handshake could tell you everything you needed to know. Their feelings spilled as easily as they were written, when you were negotiating contracts.

It also helped in-house. A human lie detector. Able to break up fights, settle arguments. A party trick, when things got slow. The regulars trying to get things past you - tales based in truth spun tall, seeing when you'd catch them.

Wade never plays, but you think that's because you know him so well.

And what seems like a sell, quickly evolves into more. Warping, as days pass. Spending more time with a crush sounds tempting, on paper.

The reality is something else.

Yes, there is a seat saved for him at the bar. Literally saved - his name scrawled across the vinyl, and you still haven't been able to scrub it out. Stopping by at all hours to chit chat.

Teasing you - how he's "so glad he doesn't have to stalk you at your old job anymore". An over-the-top sigh about being relieved that you're safe now - in your new job, surrounded by mercs.

Begging for the best job. Puppy-dog eyes. Fake coupons for favors that would make a sinner blush. Crossing his heart that you could have anything, and he means anything you wanted, if he could only get "that thing involving the murder clowns".

It's enough to make you hope.

Later, at home - in the early hours as you're pulled under. Replaying his comments. The filthy jokes and the shameless flirting - wondering if that's all they were.

Wondering if he'd be waiting for you tomorrow, perched on his stool.

But there's the downfall.

You see him - but you also see him with everyone else.

The charming smiles. Head thrown back in a laugh as he works the room. A friend to all, and as you watch him - perched on the knee of a goddess of mercenary as he yaps away, you can't help the swift current of jealousy.

Of foolishness.

It's enough that you're almost regretting agreeing.

Your mood is sullen, as you wipe down glasses. Trying to ignore the ache when you see him flirt. That realization that the something special you thought he had with you, might just be a part of his personality.

And when Dopinder shuffles from the back with more ice for the chiller behind the bar, it only takes one look at you before he's sighing.

"Not again. Please, I am begging you. I cannot take more of your yearning.”

Your lips quirk. Hadn't realized you'd become that obvious. He'd become your go-to, in the long hours you spend together behind the bar. Pinkie-promising not to say a word - but you always thought you'd had a decent handle on your expressions.

"We don't have to talk about it." Your hands raise, placating, "Just let me yearn in peace. I'll get over it."

"You know that almost half of what DP makes a month is funneled back in here, right?" He gives you a long look, "Before you, I saw him once a week. I had to beg him to come get his paycheck."

Doubt still lingers.

"Doesn't mean anything," You shrug - eyes dropping, as you help him restock.

"You do not think Mr. Pool worships the ground you walk on?"

The intensity of his question has you side-eying him, "I mean... I don't think he sees me that way. He acts the same with me as he does with everyone."

“Sure.” He huffs, leaning against the bartop, just as Wade plunks down in the seat in front of you.

“God, I haven’t been over here in like-,” Wade checks a fake watch, “Fifteen minutes? Feels like longer. Felt like a fucking hour.”

Pivoting back and forth on the stool as he adds, “Is it possible for people to get separation anxiety? Or is that just dogs? Is this how Dogpool feels when I’m gone?”

You just manage to catch the last bit, as Dopinder slips away.

“Exactly the same.”

Tonight, Wade is the first person that sits down in front of you for the game.

A frown, as you peel off your gloves - your barrier, to the outside world.

His own already bare - sliding back-and-forth over his suit-clad thighs. You'd mistake it for nerves, if you weren't so sure Wade had never been nervous in his life.

"What's your story, Wilson?" You ask, "Hope you brought something good."

"Oh, it's a whopper. A real fucking doozy. Apparently, you're not gonna believe it. " His laugh is a little too loud, and your eyes narrow, "But let's give it a whirl, okay?"

There's a flicker, behind the bar. A sideways look towards the bar, where Dopinder's hands cover his face. You don't need to touch him to read the guilt written across his features - the way he almost flinches, under your glare.

You're going to fucking kill him.

The sound of your name brings you back.

“Ready to play?”

Wade's hands rest face-up on the table - an offering. For once in his life he almost looks serious, and it’s enough to bring you back.

A breath - before you align your own. Letting them drop down, skin mapping against skin for the first time.

It floods through you.

The lick of heat that almost feels like a caress. A deep yearn that causes your own heart to twinge, layering with the feeling of need. Desire. Want.

It's familiar. It mirrors something deep inside, something that’s become as much a part of you as flesh and bone.

Oh.

A laugh slips from you, breaking the beat of silence. Relief tinged with disbelief - your smile stretching wide.

“Yeah?” You breathe, softening.

“Yeah.” He laughs, “Thought I was being obvious. But you are pound-cake dense, apparently.”

Hands flipping over, to entwine between yours. Letting that feeling inside him linger, settling warm and comforting over your bare skin.

“But I like that about you.” Another huff of a laugh, “Like all of you, really. Always have.”

It makes your heart ache. In a way that finally feels full, feels right - instead of the near-agony you’ve been bearing for weeks.

Only you could be such an idiot.

thanks for reading! 💖

[xinganhao]

🌱 wonwoo x producer!reader.

the five times wonwoo swears he's over you (and the one time that he decides he isn't) ★ see also: main post, drabble

♫ maybe i'm just not better than this, i haven't tried / 'cause maybe you'll finally choose me after you've had more time.

🌱 the five times.

when he sees you for the first time in over a year.

he believes it's the nice thing to do, treating you out to dinner. he froze you out, after all, because he was stupid and he didn't know how to handle his crush on you. he likes to think that the past fourteen months have made him better. wiser. so, that night, he makes it up to you. he also makes up a dozen different excuses. do his eyes linger on you a little too long as you happily drink your yogurt drink? he's just making sure you like what he chose for you. does he walk a little closer when he notices you're shivering from the evening cold? he's just concerned you might get sick. he doesn't like you anymore. he's better now, wiser now. he has to be.

when your second studio choom video comes out.

it's not the same as the first time, where he'd smiled to himself while watching you perform your latest comeback in STUDIO CHOOM's crisp, 4k quality. back then, that's how he had known he was done for. this time, he watches it purely out of curiosity. to add to the millions of views that the video is already raking up. he keeps a straight face the whole time. just watches with a perfectly neutral expression. he's just a guy supporting a friend, isn't he? when he gets through the entire video without smiling, he counts that as a win. if his heart— the bloody traitor— had stuttered at your ending fairy, well. that's an entirely different story.

on a random tuesday, just because.

he's never really seen the appeal in games like stardew valley; they were always a little too slow for his taste. but you'd absolutely begged, and so he begrudgingly bought the game for ₩20,600 just to shut you up. he still doesn't care much for it, to be quite honest. there's a lot of slow, lazy days where he just dicks around in-game. he bears with it anyway since you're always so happy when you beat him at fishing, or when you get to steal away the bachelorette he was going after. your voice is a low buzz in his ear as the two of you play until the sun has risen, until he's cussing you out for keeping him up so late when he has a schedule to go to. you let him complain all he wants because he'll still back online for co-op later that night.

when you're back in the same recording studio as him.

this one is the hardest, because this is where he fell for you in the first place. you, with your head bent as you fiddle with jihoon's digital audio workstation. you, with your usually friendly demeanor shuttered behind something so cool and collected. the pencil tucked behind your ear. the way you worry your lower lip as the boys croon. he wants to scream, wants to test just how soundproof this damn studio is. instead, he sings his lines. he makes adjustments as necessary. he watches you do your thing, even jokes to you here and there. it's all he can do to keep his mind away from what it wants so badly to stray back to. in the end, he doesn't scream. but when you smile at him and tease him that he did a good job— he wishes he had.

when he drives you home after you've had one too many to drink.

you're half-asleep in his passenger seat, all soft edges and incoherent mumbles. he tries to be cross with you, tries to tell you off for not knowing your limits and ending up like this. there's an unmistakable softness in his gaze, though, as he makes sure the seatbelt isn't too tight around your frame. he avoids all the potholes and goes extra careful over the speed bumps. by the time he makes it to your dorm, you're already passed out with your cheek pressed against the window. he decides to let you sleep for only thirty seconds more. as he mentally counts down— thirty, twenty-nine, twenty-eight— he tries to convince himself that it won't sting when he gets to one. (it still does.)

🌸 the one time.

on another random tuesday.

in the end, it's not an evening of stardew valley that gets him. it's not one of your fancams, not your warm presence in his shotgun. no, it's something much more stupid. something much more small. it's the way he looks for his phone when it pings. he doesn't even know if it's you who's texting him. but it could be, and that's enough to have him fishing through his bag hastily. he catches himself one afternoon, notices the way he's just a touch too excited to check the newest notification. he's not any wiser or better, it seems. he doesn't know if he can be. he's still the same jeon wonwoo with a hopeless crush on you.

[girllblogging777]

𝐻𝐸𝐴𝑅𝑇𝑆 𝑅𝐸𝐶𝐿𝐴𝐼𝑀𝐸𝐷

↳ mattheo riddle x fem!reader drabble (fluff, angst)

↳ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡 : 1,02k

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦 : mattheo’s jealousy causes an argument, but both find yourself comforting eachother

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

"i told you i don’t care about that ravenclaw guy, he was just asking me about a potions assignment," you snapped, the frustration of your argument with mattheo finally reaching its peak. your boyfriend had found you talking to another boy in the great hall this morning, and he hadn’t let it go since, making you the main target of his pent up anger.

"well, i care! i care that my girlfriend was being all giggly with some guy in front of everyone, and i care even more that you’re brushing it off like it’s nothing!" he shouted back, running his hand through his brunette curls in frustration. you knew mattheo’s short temper well, how his mental health and past trauma affected his ability to express emotions, but he rarely lashed out at you like this. today had been different, and you’d sensed it the moment you saw that flicker of harshness in his usual soft brown eyes.

you sighed, trying to explain yourself calmly and hoping to ease his anger before things escalated, silently aware that it wouldn’t change anything. "look, i understand how you must be feeling right now, but—" he cut you off, his voice sharp and unyielding.

“no, you don’t ! stop playing therapist all the time. you don’t get it, and you’re never fucking going to." his words were harsh, and you tried not to let it get to your head, knowing he wasn’t thinking clearly. you braced yourself for what might come next, knowing he was too far gone to appreciate your gentleness. "maybe if you weren’t always trying to fix me, it would be easier. not my fault you’re oversensitive and can’t take anything !"

that was the breaking point. he’d crossed a line, and he didn’t even seem to care. mattheo knew how much you hated being yelled at, how it made you feel small and vulnerable, and yet, today he hadn’t held back. deep down, you knew the reason : he hated how much power you had over him, how easily you could mess with his heart. in this entire school, you were the only one who dared to stand up to mattheo riddle, to tell him the truth even when it hurt. it was why your relationship worked, but also why you ended up having those arguments so often.

something shifted in your gaze, and he noticed it : the tiny spark of pain mixed with the tears welling up in your eyes. you whispered pleadingly, "don’t yell at me like that, i can’t do this." your voice was small, but the impact was immediate. the anger faded away from his eyes, when he remembered you telling him the reason why you couldn’t stand shouting. he realised he’d just reenacted the past trauma you had told him about and his lips curved into a barely-there frown. you saw the regret settling in his expression.

"i know… i took it too far. i shouldn’t have." his voice was softer now, the anger draining from his features. you didn’t move or say anything, still reeling from the sting of his words. mattheo took a hesitant step towards you, his eyes searching yours, filled with a mixture of guilt and desperation. he hesitated, he saw the hurt he’d caused, the way your body tensed as if waiting for more. he hated himself for letting his temper get the better of him, for hurting the one person who had always stood by him.

“baby, please…” he said softly, his voice trembling slightly as he took another step towards you. he reached out, but you instinctively flinched, and he froze, the guilt getting to him. you turned away, swallowing the lump in your throat, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. “mattheo, you know i care about you more than anything, but i can’t keep doing this. you can’t keep lashing out at me every time you’re upset. it’s not fair.”

“i know,” he whispered, his voice thick with regret. “i just… i don’t know how to deal with it sometimes. i get so scared of losing you that i get jealous and push you away. it’s messed up, i know that.” you finally looked at him, seeing the pain in his eyes, the vulnerability he so rarely showed. it was the side of mattheo that made you fall for him, the boy beneath the act who just wanted to be loved and understood. but that didn’t make the hurt disappear.

“i’m not going anywhere,” you said, your voice steady but soft as you tried to comfort him. “but i need you to be with me in this, mattheo. i can’t be the only one trying to fix it.” he nodded, a tear slipping down his cheek, though he quickly wiped it away. “i promise, i’ll do better. i don’t want to lose you. you’re the only good thing i have.”

the sincerity in his voice made your heart ache. you took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment, and then slowly closed the distance between you, wrapping your arms around him. his arms enveloped you immediately, holding you tight as if you might slip away. you had never seen him cry before but that single tear on his cheek was enough to make you forget what had just happened

“i’m sorry,” he murmured into your hair, his voice muffled but heartfelt. “i’ll work on it, i swear.” you nodded against his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow as he calmed down. “i know you will. just… talk to me next time, okay? before it gets to this point.”

“i will,” he promised, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head. “i love you, and i’m not going to let my stupid temper ruin what we have.” you pulled back slightly, looking up at him with a small, forgiving smile. “i love you too, mattheo. just… no more yelling, okay?” he nodded frantically, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “no more yelling. i’ll keep that in check.”

you both stood there for a moment, just holding each other, letting the tension melt away. the storm had passed, and in its place was a new sense of understanding and commitment. mattheo might not be perfect, but neither were you, and that was okay. as long as you faced your flaws together, there was nothing you couldn’t overcome.

“but you have to promise me not to let anyone get too close to you” he finally said, his voice lighter, almost playful. “and besides, you’re only supposed to laugh at my jokes.”

you smiled, chuckling. “he didn’t stand a single chance.” whatever challenges lay ahead, you knew you’d face them together, and that was all that mattered.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

a/n : thank you @reys-letters for your request !!! please like/comment/reblog and leave requests if you think of something <3

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[nana-au]

𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐈𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐍'𝐓 𝐒𝐔𝐏𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐎 𝐁𝐄...

 𝜗𝜚 Satoru Gojo Prince AU ♡ part one

 𝜗𝜚 Summary: being raised as satoru's servant while also being his best friend has caused some trouble for the two of you. upon the arrival of satoru's first courting season, it becomes obvious he sees you as more than just a servant. more than just a friend. it becomes your responsibility to ensure satoru loses his feelings for you. or else yours and your family's entire livelihood is at stake. based off of this drabble

𝜗𝜚 Warnings: forbidden love, unspoken feelings, angst, rumors spread about reader, underlying anxiety (let me know if i missed any)

 𝜗𝜚 wc: 3,050

𝜗𝜚 an: this fic is based off of the 19th century, but is not entirely accurate. sorry if that is something that may bother you!

┊p1┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p2┊

It’s an hour after dawn when you arrive to wake up Satoru. Upon opening the door to his chambers, you see him wrapped up in a thin sheet, tufts of white hair poking out underneath it. The rest of his blankets and comforter are in a heap on the floor; the Prince favoring the light fabric during the summer months. You walk across his room to the large window overlooking the gardens, opening the curtains to let the bright sun assist you in waking him. You turn to him, expecting a groan from the sudden change of lighting, but he lays still. “Satoruuuuu,” you call sweetly to him and he still doesn’t stir. Once you reach his bed and start peeling away the single layer off his body to expose his bare chest, it is then he begins to awaken. “It’s time to break your fast, Satoru,” you hum to him. He scratches his chest, his nails dragging across the milky skin that you try your hardest not to look at for too long before turning his head into his pillow.

A muffled, “Not yet…” can barely be heard. You giggle at him, trying to take the pillow out from under his head. 

“You were supposed to be awake almost an hour ago, Satoru,” you tell him, finally freeing the pillow before using it to hit him. “Wake up Satoru, I’m being serious,” you tell him sternly, earning a smirk from the white haired Prince. 

“Five more minutes,” his hand goes to cover his eyes, attempting to return to the slowed natured breathing of sleep. 

“Absolutely not!” you climb into the bed with him, the realization of how inappropriate it is for you to join the Prince in bed crosses your mind as you try to peel his hands off his face. Your strength is no match for him as he simply turns his back to you and grabs a new pillow to rest his head under. Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you watch him smugly lay there, knowing you couldn’t physically get him out of bed. You sigh, mumbling to yourself about how he might not find his favorite chocolate biscuits on his tray during tea time for a while when he shoots up in bed. Suddenly ready to take on his day. “I’ll see you at breakfast, Satoru,” you chuckle to him, and he shoots you a lazy smile. His eyes are a little puffy from sleep and his plump lips are chapped from a night with no water. His chest is a little red from where he scratched it, and you forbid yourself from following the direction of the scratches down to his taut stomach. The door of his bedroom closes behind you and you make your way to one of the private dining rooms. 

𝜗𝜚

The walk to the dining room is long and you are unable to keep your busy mind on track. For a while now your relationship with Satoru has caused conflicting feelings for you. Being the one to see him sleep so peacefully, being the one to wake him up - to see him adjust to the morning light, barely there but still smiling up at you…

Being the one who sees him to bed at night, per his request. He has you sit in his bed with him, something neither of you could ever tell someone else because of the implications that come with that action. But all he has you do is reminisce on simpler times with him. How catching the frogs in the garden was once the hardest thing he had to do in his day and that he missed horseback riding with you, begging you to join him again. It’s hard to lie when his blue eyes look up at you through his white lashes, but you continue to tell him you just grew past enjoying that. Choosing to protect him from the current reality you struggled with. His lip always curled into a little pout at the end of your conversations, and you would tuck the blankets into his sides and wish him a good night.

Everything between you two felt so wrong because the things that you both were forbidden to do felt so right. It was really no mystery to you, and as you both grew older and Satoru grew bolder, it wasn’t a mystery to anyone else either: Satoru felt more than just friendship for you. You think that is what you loved most about him. The fact he could never hide his feelings - lacking the ability to pretend to feel or be anything that he wasn’t. But all though you loved it,  it was causing a lot of problems for you. You were made aware of the King and Queen’s feelings on you and him being so close. They were unimpressed, but willing to ignore it as long as you focused on your duties and kept the Prince focused on his. But you and everyone around you knew the ice you were treading on was rapidly thinning. 

As you make your way closer to the dining room you shut away your feelings, the pressure of your role in his life becoming more apparent each day - unable to avoid the gossip among other servants and your parents' constant warning that the path you were walking would lead to a place you would regret finding. 

𝜗𝜚

Breakfast with Satoru went as it always went. He played around with his food while you walked him through the tasks he was expected to do for the day. 

“The Queen set up another dining etiquette lesson which you will attend soon after your meal,” you tell him and he scoffs, elbows digging into the table and the egg on his plate being flung onto the oak table. You grimace and continue, “You also have a lesson to brush you up on the politics of surrounding nations,” he responds by slurping his water loudly, piercing blue eyes staring at you with a bored expression. Clearing your throat you remind him he also has fencing lessons and two hours of horseback riding to look forward to and he finally flashes you his award winning smile. 

“Now you’re saying what I wanted to hear,” he still has his eyes on you, looking at you with adoration and something else you couldn’t place. You squirmed under his watchful eyes, muttering about how he needs to finish breakfast and get cleaned up for the day. 

𝜗𝜚

While Satoru sits through his lessons, you busy yourself in the laundry room, cleaning his sheets so that they are ready by the time he enters his chambers for the night. The repetitive motion of scrubbing the wet laundry against itself to work up any dirt did little to distract you from the whispers of other servants who were obviously talking about you. You wanted badly to scoff and tell them to find some new drama to busy their mouths with - but you knew it would do nothing but fuel the gossip so you steeled your face and kept focused on your tasks. It was obviously no secret to anybody in the Gojo estate that you two were closer than what was allowed. You could hardly even blame them for finding such enjoyment from the drama that was unraveling slowly but surely. Being a servant was hardly an entertaining job. You originally found yourself lucky you had Satoru to keep you entertained - but that was quickly biting you in the behind. 

All though everyone else around you couldn’t stop talking about it; Satoru and you never uttered a word about the subject of their rumors. It left a sour taste on your tongue to imagine actually acknowledging out loud that you were aware of what was transpiring, and Satoru couldn’t care less what anyone had to say about him and you. It was better left unsaid between the both of you, you thought to yourself. 

𝜗𝜚

Once laundry was done you made your way out into the field where Satoru was practicing fencing with his teacher. You balanced a full cup of water in your hand as you made your way closer and closer to the two men taking jabs at each other, being careful not to spill a drop. The sun beat down on you and the birds chirped between the sounds of their swords thwacking against each other’s. You waited patiently for them to finish their sparring. You were in awe each time you saw Satoru do something that wasn’t entirely included in his princely responsibilities. Sure, fencing was something all Princes were taught to do; but it was far from a requirement to rule an entire nation of people. He came alive when it was just him and the outdoors. Away from the stuffy classrooms and the boring talk of what was expected of him and where his place was in the world. He didn’t regard being a Prince as a privilege but as a tedious title thrown onto him because of who he was born to. Satoru despised his role in the world, but having activities to keep his mind engaged temporarily lessened his growing anger as his responsibilities piled on his shoulders. He wondered if Atlas ever considered giving up and letting the heavens squash him dead. 

The tip of his blade touches his teacher’s chest, scoring his final point and causing his lips to turn into a wide smile. He’s breathless when he notices you, walking up with the confidence of a God before peeling his mask off his head. He’s sweaty and breathless, leaning in close to your face. You can feel the heat radiating off his body from how close he managed to get, a bead of sweat dripping from his hairline as he takes the cup from you. “Thank you,” he manages to tell you between heaving breaths. You can’t fight the quiver it causes you. 

He downs the cup, the remnants dripping out from the corner of his mouth and sliding down his defined jaw and trailing down his neck - making it impossible to avoid the bobbing of his throat with each gulp he takes. Your blush is red hot, suddenly finding the blades of grass incredibly interesting until he speaks up. 

“Walk me to the stables?”

𝜗𝜚

As you escort him to the stables your father is in charge of, your hands brush against each other while you match each other’s steps. You're both stuck in comfortable silence, listening to the soft trickling of a far away fountain and watching as two butterflies race in front of each other. Their wings flutter as they surround each other, colliding with one another as they circle around the other, before taking off into the greenery ahead. You look up upon feeling a pair of eyes on yours - Satoru smiles once your eyes reach his. Your face flushes only causing him to grin at you as you desperately try to find an interesting topic to talk about. “H-how were your lessons?” you inquire. 

His head shakes at you, laughing to himself before he answers you, “fine”. The answer is dull and void of any details but you struggle to find the correct words to pry. Your fingers bump into his again and you bring your hand up to cough into it. You don’t have to look at Satoru to know he is smiling at you like he always does when you’re flustered. Typically you would call him out for it, and he would flirtatiously respond back that he just can’t help it. But you don’t call him out and he doesn’t respond back. If he was aware of the conflict in your features he doesn’t mention it. You walk in silence again until the stables come into view.

𝜗𝜚

You greet your father upon entering the large open doors where he is quick to bow. “Prince Gojo, good afternoon,” Satoru nods in acknowledgement and the other stablehands begin to saddle up his favorite horse. He watches as your father says hello to you, his eyes wary noticing you with the Prince. It was your job as his personal servant to follow him around of course, but tensions had been high recently. Any time the two of you were alone was a cause of concern in his book. “Daughter,” he smiles at you, the smile not quite reaching his eyes. Your father was a burly man from years of being in charge of the stables and taking care of the horses. His beard was unkempt and his face was a little dirty, but with one look at him there was no denying he was your father. You two shared the same eye and hair color, you both thought long and hard before you spoke, and you both were prone to nervous habits like biting your nails. Satoru wondered what it would be like to have a parent worth inheriting from. 

The stablehands brought his horse out, the white stallion whinnying upon seeing the Prince. Satoru greets him warmly, brushing his hands across its muzzle, “Hey boy,” he calls to him sweetly, continuing to run his hand across its back as he prepares himself to jump into the saddle. He pauses though, eyes deep in thought and you almost ask him what's wrong before he speaks up. “Get her a horse, please,” he tells one of the men who brought out his horse and you instantly perk up. 

“Prince Gojo,” you address him formally in front of your father, “I really must get back to prepare for dinner.”

“As your Prince,” he says, making it a point to emphasize the label he hates you using, “I’m asking you to ride with me,” he turns to direct the stablehands, “Saddle up a horse quickly please.” Your father is anything but impressed, but he nods when his staff check with him for permission. It’s subtle and no one would ever admit to disobeying the Prince, but they felt the need to check for his reassurance. He didn’t just demand respect, your father earned it. 

You fiddle with your fingers, mumbling about how it really wasn’t a good idea but once Satoru got started on something he wouldn’t stop until it happened. You sigh as they bring out a stunning black mare, saddled up and ready for you to ride. Satoru notices your hesitation to pull yourself up, making his way over to you and grabbing your hips abruptly. His slender fingers squeeze the flowy fabric of your uniform tight against your sides before lifting you up into the saddle. He patted your mare once you got situated and made his way back into his own saddle, completely unaware of how dead silent the stables became. Your father was shaking his head and the other men were rendered speechless watching you follow the Prince out into the open fields. 

𝜗𝜚

Riding with Satoru was a different kind of freedom. The feeling of the wind flowing through your hair, the sound of boisterous laughter as Satoru led you into his favorite part of the forest; dodging twigs that stuck out from the trees as you raced after him. Your mare’s hooves thundered down on the forest floor, the steady thump thump thump causing your heart to beat along with its rhythm. “I thought you said you didn’t like riding anymore?” he teased you as your melodious laughter filled the open air. He kept looking back at you, trusting his horse to guide him safely while he couldn’t help but watch you and the unfiltered joy you let out, causing his heart to flutter and mouth to dry. Satoru wasn’t one to reflect too hard on his emotions - recognizing it would drive him mad to ponder on complicated things like his feelings. But watching you was different. He didn’t feel the need to label what he felt. He just allowed himself to feel.

Because with you it was easy… or hard. Easy because his feelings were so featherlight; devoid of their usual drag against his heavy heart. But hard because he could feel you slowly pulling away from him.

You couldn’t stop the buzzing of your body from how good the adrenaline rush felt. How good it felt to be away from other’s wandering eyes - waiting for you to make a mistake you nor your family could come back from. It was bliss. Spending time with Satoru was bliss. 

𝜗𝜚

The two of you had stopped in a grassy knoll upon a hill farther up the Gojo’s land where people rarely visited. Your horses busied themselves with a nearby stream, lapping up the clear water as you and the prince laid side by side in the knoll. Your eyes busied themselves with the fluffy white clouds in the sky, focusing on the feeling of the grass licking at your skin. Satoru’s eyes watched you as you watched the sky, trying not to pout at the feeling of you admiring a different color blue than his own. His heart tugged and he willed it to focus on the peacefulness of laying by your side. Morning doves cooed in the distance and the summer breeze swept away the uneasiness that tried to bury itself into your skin. “I wish we could lay here forever,” you commented after minutes of silence. Satoru huffed out in agreement. 

“Turn towards me,” he begged, the words barely loud enough to break through the sounds of nature. You weren’t used to Satoru being so soft spoken, quickly turning to lay on your side to meet his face. His eyes scan your features for a minute, before he breaks the silence again,  “You’re so beautiful,” he tells you simply, tucking away a strand of hair behind your ear. Your heart lurches and your stomach drops as his thumb touches your bottom lip, playing with the plush skin. 

Against everything in your body telling you to close your eyes and melt into his touch you sit up abruptly, clearing your throat and softly muttering about how dinner would be ready soon. As you go and fetch both of your horses, Satoru buries his head in between the long blades of grass, not bothering to fight back a childish groan.

┊p1┊𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠... p2┊

taglist: @bubera974 𐙚 @dahliawarner 𐙚 @phoenixisdabest 𐙚 @designerpvssy 𐙚

(comment to be added)

[jaysgirlx]

living with choso might have just been the best mistake of your entire life. the intended plan was for you to finally get your own place but when you get there the place is in shambles. you got your deposit back when you threatened to get the police involved because the place looked nothing like its pictures.

choso had offered you his spare bedroom time and time again but you couldn't. choso was already such a good friend to you and you just didn't want to impose this on him. but of course, you're not even given a choice to ask him because the moment choso finds out how messed up your new apartment is he's already taken your stuff back to his place.

you're two months in and you realize choso and you had fallen into a pattern. a pattern that you hope won't everbreak. you wake up and choso's already made breakfast for the both of you. he says he's used to it from when he and his brothers used to live together, even though he only makes enough for two.

when you both arrive home from work, you either go out for food or order in and then of course you guys watch movies. "what do you mean you've never seen toy story?!"

"i didn't have much of a childhood, so i haven't seen a lot of movies" he mumbled quiety. for the rest of the night, the two of you had a toy story marathon with tons of snacks (provided by choso of course).

choso knew you loved to snack, so he learned to find your favorites in bulk. anytime you saw you snack on something when you hung out, he would memorize its name so he could buy more. he wanted to make his apartment as comfortable as he could for you. his place was meant to be yours.

sometimes the two of you would fall asleep on the couch together, all cuddled up together. however, it didn't start out like that, at first you would lean on choso's shoulder hoping he wouldn't mind. and eventually, he got annoyed with you just leaning on him and pulled you into his arms. you wanted to protest but you enjoyed it so much that you instead leaned into his body. whenever he'd feel you get comfortable in his arms or his lap he'd whisper "good girl" in your ear. coming from him those words drove you crazy and you wished you could hear them more.

on some nights, after you've both had a long day at work choso tends to carry you back to your room when you fall asleep. he even kisses your forehead and you've caught him doing it and you wish you had the guts to confront him on it so bad but you're happy here. so why risk it?

when choso works late you bring dinner to him and the two of you eat in his office. he always tells you, that you don't have to. that he can bring you dinner instead but when you warn him that you'll nice out he easily shuts up. you guys don't get to watch movies but you do get to talk.

"how's yuji?" you ask him after setting his food on his desk.

"enjoying college life apparently, nobara said they're going to a frat party tonight," he says while chucking.

"do you miss him?"

"why would i miss him when i have you?"

in your mind, there was no way he could've possibly meant that romantically. even after he changed the topic you were still thinking about it, thinking about what he meant and what could be going on in that head of his.

during the weekends, choso spends all his time with you. if you want to go shopping, he pays for everything, buys you lunch, and carries all your bags. he tells you it's in exchange for all the dinners you've bought him even though he's already paid you back for those. and when you get home he helps you try them all and all he can do is compliment you, like you're all his, "these jeans look so fucking good on you, can you only wear them in the apartment? just for me pretty girl?"

and you'd agree to his pleas cause, let's be real you only bought these jeans cause he keep eyeing you in them. and they way he cursed, you knew he wanted you because you felt the exact see way.

maybe living with choso a little longer wouldn't be such a bad idea.

❥ a/n: a little drabble to make up for not posting the college au choso fic yet.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 MID DAY NAPS WITH DAZAI!

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: dazai does not nap. he hardly sleeps in general. so how is it that he's dozing off in your lap like this? you're a witch, he's decided. there's no other logical explanation. (wordcount: 800ish; sfw; fem!reader, mentions of alcohol & sleeping pills)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: very short & sweet but i toldddd you guys that i had a dazai nap time drabble in the works. i love my naps, so that means i obviously have to do nap time with all of the favs. perhaps i'll do jouno next. or maybe there's someone u guys want.

Dazai doesn’t sleep well. He never has, and he’s certain he never will. The only time he can manage to get some semblance of sleep is when he’s taken a few too many sleeping pills or he’s drank himself to oblivion. It’s unfortunate, but it’s a fact of life, and he thinks that he’d prefer to stay sleepless anyway if it means he can avoid the memories that plague his dreams.

Dazai can simply not remember when the last time he willingly slept was, which is why he’s so confused now, head resting in your lap, eyes heavy as he looks up at you. He can hardly hold them open, he can feel himself falling asleep and he’s alarmed because he does not sleep unless his body is drugged, drunk or dying.

“What kind of spell have you placed on me, bella?” Dazai says through a yawn—he yawned???

“What do you mean?” you ask quietly, fingers still carding gently through his hair as you look down at him, brows furrowed. 

He wants to reach up and rub out the wrinkle between your eyebrows but his arm feels too heavy. A part of him wonders if he’s dying, but he supposes if this is how he’s meant to go out—laying in your lap with your fingers brushing through his hair, staring up at your pretty face beneath the afternoon sun—then he couldn’t ask for a better death.

“‘m falling asleep,” he murmurs, and his voice slurs a bit over the words. His eyes feel even heavier, drooping shut as he tilts his head to the side to make himself comfortable on your lap. 

You giggle lightly, and Dazai swears the sound is angelic. “‘cause you’re so sleepy, obviously,” you say, a teasing lilt to your tone as you bring your freehand to his face to trace his cheekbone.

“I don’t sleep,” he protests weakly, leaning into your touch. 

He thinks that before he met you, he might not have ever experienced a gentle touch in his entire life, and now he simply cannot go without them. He craves them at every waking moment and gets severely distressed when he cannot obtain them. But only if they’re from you—the thought of anyone else touching him the way you do makes his skin crawl. Your touches make him feel vulnerable in a way that’s dangerous, and you’re the only person he trusts enough to see him that way.

“Everyone sleeps, silly,” you disagree softly, and Dazai wants to protest, to tell you how significant this is, but he can’t find the words. His mind feels muddled and hazy as exhaustion creeps through his bones and claws at his chest.

He supposes he doesn’t really need to tell you anyway, you probably already know—you always know somehow. You can always figure out when he’s having one of his bad days, no matter how hard he tries to hide it from everyone. You can always tell when he needs a break from everything, even when he tries to mask it with smiles and jokes. You can always tell when he’s sick of playing the role of a clown to make people overlook all of his faults and darkness, and you’re always there to be an escape for him. 

It used to be scary—he’s never had someone that could pick through all of his masks to see through his emotional state, his real one. A part of him wonders if it’s somehow a secret part of your ability but he knows it’s a ridiculous thought, because there’s no explanation for how you can do it whenever he’s laid up in your arms or draped all over you, which is 99% of the time he’s with you.

It used to be scary (emphasis on the past tense) but now, he thinks it might be a bit comforting to know that you’re always there and you know what he needs even when he himself doesn’t know. You’re like a buoy in the middle of a raging sea, a lighthouse shining through the dark. he hasn’t had someone he could genuinely rely on in… a long time, and even then…

Dazai lets out a puff of air, eyes finally sliding shut as he all but melts into you with your hand cupping the side of his face and your thumb caressing his cheek and your nails gently scraping his scalp. He thinks he might be in heaven—he doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve it, to deserve you, but he’s a selfish bastard at heart and he’ll be damned if he ever lets you go. 

The last thing he feels is your lips ghosting his temple before he finally dozes off. He sleeps peacefully for the first time he can remember. 

[writeonwhiskey]

how about a seungmin drabble? something dirty and sweet? plz 💕

This is an ask that I'm including with a comment that requested a Seungmin one-shot. The more specific request was for a "best friend's brother" type story. I hope you and @miniversed enjoy it!

a/n: a semi-sweet drabble. i'm working on keeping things short because I really started writing the entire backstory for these two lol but i've narrowed it down to this one scene! this has not been edited, take it easy on me.

warnings: unprotected sex, oral (f receiving) - 18+ ONLY

word count: 2,362

You’re seated on the vanity counter with Seungmin between your legs. You don’t know how you got here, but a voice in the back of your head is screaming that you shouldn’t have accepted the invitation to come see him perform—especially without your best friend.

You part your lips as his tongue invades your mouth, satiating the desire that’s been growing in you for fourteen years. You’ve fantasized about this moment countless times and now that it’s finally happening, you want nothing more than to give in to the moment.

But you know this isn’t right. You shouldn’t be doing this.

You shouldn’t have come to this room with him.

You tangle your hands in his short, dark hair, leaning back as he starts kissing down your neck.

This is your best friend’s brother for crying out loud. What would she think? What would she say?

“Wait, wait, Seungmin,” you tug on the strands of his hair to pull him away from you. You should probably shut your eyes while you say this. You can’t look at his face—his perfect fucking face. You’ve been drooling over his face even more than usual since he cut his bangs and added that slit in his eyebrow. You turn your head away from him, shaking it, “We can’t.”

“Why not?” He softly pushes your hands away from his hair and resumes kissing your neck.

“No—wait, wait,” you say again. “What about your sister?”

“What about her?” He pulls back from you, his face scrunched up. “I don’t want to think about her right now.”

“Well, I can’t not think about her—she’s my best friend. I don’t know if she would forgive me for this.”

“She doesn’t have to know,” he shrugs.

“Seungmin,” you plead softly. “You have no idea how badly I want this. How long I’ve wanted this.”

“How long?” he asks, resting his hands on your thighs and spreading your legs apart. He doesn’t wait for your response before asking a follow up question. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted it?”

Your eyes open wide. You watch as his finger inches higherup your thighs, slipping beneath your skirt. You shake your head again.

“You remember that summer vacation you took with us to Jeju?” he asks softly.

Of course, you remember that trip. You were sixteen. He was seventeen. You were nervous to go out on the beach in your bathing suit—your first time wearing one since your body had fully developed. You were afraid what people might think or say, but Seungmin smiled when he saw you and all your worries were flushed down the drain.

“I’d never seen you like that before,” he says. “You want to know what I did that night?”

Your eyes are locked on his arms on your thighs, his hands have now fully disappeared beneath your skirt. You feel his fingers rubbing along the edges of your underwear.

“I stroked my cock while thinking of you, y/n,” he admits.

“Seungmin,” you whisper. You place your hands on his chest to keep his mouth from coming back to yours.

He uses one finger to pull your underwear towards him.

“Do you want me to stop?”

You look around the empty dressing room, eyes keying in on the door to make sure it’s locked. You don’t want any of the other members or staff to come in and see you like this. This secret can’t get out. It could ruin everything.

“No, I don’t,” you tell him. “But that doesn’t mean we should keep going.”

He slips his other hand between the opening he created in your underwear, sliding a finger up and down your slit causing you to gasp, then moan. Your hands slide up to the back of his neck, clasping together.

He takes the opportunity to lean forward again and reclaim your mouth. You part your lips, allowing his tongue to enter. He tastes of adrenaline and betrayal. He keeps leaning forward, forcing you back against the mirror as he kisses you, his finger still sliding along your slit.

“We could stop,” he says, breaking the kiss momentarily. “If we keep going, though, I promise you I’ll never say a word.”

You weigh your options as his finger keeps teasing your pussy. You pull him to you to kiss him again—a bad decision. You’re ready to throw caution to the wind so long as he’s touching you like this.

This is the boy you’ve had a crush on since he walked you home in second grade and it hasn’t faded. As much as you willed it to. This is the boy who came to your rescue in the middle of the night when you started your period and his sister was asleep—he found pads for you and provided a change of clothes since you’d ruined your own.

This is the boy you cooked countless meals for when you would stay the night, and he returned from practice at 12:00am. When everyone else was asleep and he wanted a hot, fresh meal, you were there to serve him. This is the boy whose compliments on your cooking encouraged you to pursue culinary school. This is the boy who brought his entire group to the restaurant you work at and ensured them it would be the best meal of their life.

This is the boy you can’t get enough of. You have to have him. Even if it’s just once. Even if it has to be a secret. Even if it can never happen again.

You slide your hands down and push back on his chest once more. You hold your fist out in front of him, pinky raised. This is so wrong.

“Promise?” you ask.

He hooks his pinky through yours with a crooked grin, “Promise.”

He lowers your intertwined pinkies until your hand is at the waistband of his pants and as you fumble with the button, his lips crash against yours.

So many thoughts are racing through your head—is this really okay? Will his sister ever find out? Will you be able to live with this secret?

But then, he’s pulling your underwear down and, quite frankly, you couldn’t give two shits. That’s for the you of tomorrow to worry about. Tonight you get to have him. Fucking finally.

You successfully unbutton and unzip his pants, and he steps back to pull your underwear completely off. You relax against the cold mirror, watching as he removes the sweatshirt he’s wearing and when his bare torso comes into view, you know you’ve made the right decision for yourself.

You have to experience this. Even if it’s just once. You have to get him out of your system and lay this crush to rest.

He pushes his pants and boxers down as he steps back towards you, freeing his cock. You subconsciously lick your lips at the sight, and he chuckles in response. You wiggle around on the desk, lifting your skirt up higher and scooting to the edge.

He grabs you by the waist with one hand, and spits in the other before sliding it against your pussy. He grips the base of his cock and lines himself up at your opening.

You lock your hands together behind his neck, biting your lip and holding your breath for what’s to come. His lips are back on yours as he slowly eases his cock inside. You moan into his mouth as he buries himself in you, partially in shock that this is really happening and not another dream.

He places his other hand on your waist and moves you closer to the edge of the vanity counter as he starts slowly thrusting in and out of you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, reveling in the feeling. You rock your hips back against his. He groans and breaks the kiss, pulling back to watch his cock at work.

“You’re so wet for me, y/n,” he says.

You moan and nod.

“How long?” he asks.

You’re so focused on fucking him back it takes you a moment to realize he’s even asked you a question.

“Too long,” you breathe.

“And is it as good as you imagined?” A coy smile is on his lips.

“Better,” you reply without hesitation.

He suddenly withdraws from you, but before you can panic that you’ve said the wrong thing, he drops to his knees. He hooks his arms under thighs, hands reaching over them to spread your pussy apart. He presses a long, hard lick up your slit and you just about collapse.

Your brain cannot comprehend. Seungmin is on his knees. Licking your pussy.

“Mmmm,” he moans between licks, “we taste good together.”

You fall back against the mirror with a heavy, satisfied sigh.

Why would he say that? How can you live knowing his lips have uttered such a phrase. How can you look him in the eyes the next time you’re with him and his family, and your best friend, knowing he’s said that?

Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea.

And then, his fingers are inside you while he sucks your clit into his mouth. And it doesn’t fucking matter. You’ll figure it out.

“Seungmin,” you pant.

He doesn’t stop his actions, but he looks up at you with those deep, brown eyes and your heart all but explodes at the sight. His face, buried between your thighs, eyes locked on you and only you as he fucks you with his fingers; his mouth working wonders on your clit.

“Can you—please,” you try to get a sentence out but your head falls back against the mirror with a thud, eyes rolling into the back of your head. Your hips thrust against his fingers and mouth of their own accord and your arch your back.

“Fuck, yes,” he pauses sucking your clit to say, “Give it to me, y/n.”

And how could you not?

You grit your teeth to keep from alerting the entire backstage crew of your activities. You place your feet on the counter, gripping your hands in his hair and pushing your hips against his face as you come.

His fingers and mouth don’t stop until you’ve finished trembling. You collapse against the counter with a sigh as he stands, his mouth smiling and glistening with your juices. Holy fuck, you can’t believe your eyes.

Even in your weakened state, you still want to taste him. You use all your remaining energy to sit up and reach for his cock.

“Next time,” he says pushing your hand aside as he pulls you down from the counter.

You stare back at him, blinking. Dumbfounded.

You never intended for this to happen in the first place. Now he’s insinuating there will be a next time? You don’t know if you can handle it. But you do know that it shouldn’t happen.

He kisses you, allowing you to taste yourself on his lips. And he’s right—you do taste good together. It’s a shame.  

He turns you around, forcing you down with a hand on your back until your torso is pressed against the counter. He pushes your skirt up higher, exposing your ass. He palms one cheek as he lines himself up at your entrance again. You glance at him over your shoulder, watching as he eases himself into you and let out a sigh when he’s all the way in.

It truly feels better than you could have ever imagined. Is it because this feels taboo? Is it because having his cock inside you feels like everything you could ever want or need?

You wiggle your ass back against him and turn your head to face the mirror. You watch his reflection as he slowly withdraws, then slams himself back into you. You both moan as he repeats the process, gripping your hips to pull you to him with even more force.

You lay your palms flat against the counter, bending your knees slightly to bounce back against him.

“Y/n,” he groans, his eyes glued to where your bodies are connected, “I never thought—oh, fuck!”

You fuck him back as he loses his train of thought and smacks your ass. He bares his teeth, breathing heavily as he rams into you.

This is so wrong, and you both know it. There may be consequences to pay, but it will be worth it.

“I’m gonna come,” he warns you.

You lock eyes with him through the mirror and give a subtle nod. His fingers dig into your waist, and he pulls you back against him with all the strength in him as he comes.

His thrusts slow down as he spills into you. You rest your head against the counter to hide your smile, satisfied with each groan that falls from his lips.

When he’s done, he fully withdraws his cock and takes a step back to admire his handiwork.

“Don’t move,” he says, pulling his pants back up. He then digs inside his back pocket and retrieves his phone.

“Seungmin,” you protest and start to stand.

He lowers you back against the counter and presses his jeaned thighs against your bare ass. He angles his phone above you and snaps a picture.

“I need something to get me through this tour,” he tells you.

You’re not sure what to make of that, but it feels like a compliment.

He puts his phone back into his pocket and palms your ass again, making you moan. He steps away and picks up your underwear from the ground, tucking them into his front pocket. He reaches over you for the tissue on the counter and finally wipes you clean.

“You should come out with us tonight to celebrate the start of the tour,” he says, tossing the tissue into the trash.

“I should probably go home and shower,” you say, standing up and turning to face him.

“Not yet,” he wraps an arm around your waist to pull you to him. “I want you to walk around with us on you for a while.”

You look up at him and take a deep breath. What have you gotten yourself in to?

a/n: how was that? did my best to keep it short and to the point! hehe this was fun! once again, asks are open for one-shots!

[hahaifolded]

Good... Really? - Simon "Ghost" Riley x POC!GN Reader Drabble

Warnings: Angst, ANGST, Angst (comment about eating habits) Author Notes: I don't know where this came from so I do apologize for this. I have a part 2 in mind but I don't know when I'll write that so... yeeeeah.

Imagine Simon "Ghost" Riley asks you, the temporary interpreter for the 141, on a date. Imagine how surprised you were when after the most recent briefing, this hunk of a man approaches you asking if you like Italian and free that same night for dinner. Imagine how nervous he is when he asks, eyes looking anywhere but you, hand fidgeting at his sides. It absolutely melted your heart to see the man that made your heart beat so fast that you might faint shy to talk to you.

So imagine your shock when you agree on said date and it's just... horrible.

Just imagine you walking in, seeing him at the booth and as you catch his eye, he immediately looks away. How when you approach the table, he stays seated and mumbles out a small hi. You assume it's just a cultural difference and quickly move past it.

Then later when you ask him about work, because well it seemed like the safest conversation starter, he snaps at you, saying "we're on a date, not on base. no work talk." While he may have a point, he didn't have to say it so coldly. You try to be cheeky and ask him what does he want to talk about, hoping to ease the tension. It doesn't. Instead, it makes it worse as he just looks down.

So you both sit in silence as you look at the menu. You try to make small talk and ask him what he was thinking of getting. He answers plainly and says a salad. A SALAD? He tells you he's trying to cut, but assures you that you don't have to be shy, he can tell you like to eat. Oh wow - that cut deep. You just nod and look back at the menu. Your appetite dies at that very moment. You consider leaving, but the waiter pops up, asking if the "lovely couple" was ready to order. Simon quickly places his order and glares at you, waiting for you to go. You're already here, might as well stick through it.

So after you order a small soup that Ghost felt so compelled to ask if you were sure you wanted something so small, you start fidgeting with the menu, wondering how long does it take to toss a salad and pour a bowl of soup.

Imagine your shock when Simon finally speaks and asks if you thought the weather was nice. You died a little inside. The weather, really? You answer with a yes and even start to share how you loved this time of year, because it's perfect for-- and his eyes are glazed over. Great, he's not listening. You go quiet. It seems like he comes back to and asks you to repeat yourself. You don't.

You both sit in silent for a bit. You're trying to get comfortable, but find that you can't. You can tell that he's feeling the tension as he takes in a deep breath and lays his arms on the table. You can't help but stare at his tattoos.

Without a second thought, you reach out and try to ask him a question about them. As your fingers graze his arm, he pulls back and hisses at you.

"Don't touch me!"

The entire restaurant goes quiet and stares at your Lieutenant cradling his arm as if you burned him. You quickly pull back and apologize. You've never seen anyone recoil so much by your touch. He looks around the room and realizes the commotion you/he caused and mutters out a simple, "it's fine."

Silence falls on the two you again.

Dinner finally gets here and you don't think you ever ate a bowl of soup so fast before in your life. However, you can't even celebrate your small achievement as when you look up, you see Simon's plate already empty.

You can't help but be confused. Why did Simon Riley invite you on this date if he so clearly doesn't want to be here?

And before you can stop yourself, you ask him why the sudden interest. You deserved to know.

But damn did you wish you didn't ask when he says,

"Johnny's been hounding me to ask you on a date so I finally did."

Oh.

He asked you after Johnny, the only person on this fucking base who's even aware of your little crush on Ghost, told him too. Wait, no, BEGGED him to.

You don't know how you did it, but you managed to not to explode right there on the spot.

Or how when the waiter comes by asking if the "lovely couple" wants desert, you politely decline and ask for the check.

Or when Simon says he'll pay, because Johnny told him he had to, you just nod instead of storming off?

You don't know how you held your head high at you walked out of that restaurant, knowing that Simon Riley wasn't even interested in you and probably felt like he had to go on a date with the boring interpreter that has a stupid crush on him.

So imagine your shock, when before you can rip Johnny to shreds, he tells you how Ghost thought the date went swimmingly and can't wait for the second date.

WHAT!?

Word Count: 880

Thanks for reading! — Folded’s Page Guide + Masterlist

[longlivechips]

A drabble on what if Arthur repealed the magic ban while Merlin wasn't there. I like the idea of Arthur thinking Merlin will be mad, he said magic has no place in Camelot afterall. And Merlin being like shit I'm gonna have to start telling the truth.

A fic where Merlin goes to visit his mother for a few weeks. It's Yule and he misses her.

While he is gone a child comes to trial. Hardly 12 and clearly terrified. She had been caught using magic.

She swears she didn't mean to, that it just started happening one day and she was so scared of what was happening to her.

The law says she is to burn.

But Arthur just can't seem to make the call. He can only think of the girl Morgana used to be when he looks at her.

He speaks to Gaius and Geoffrey about what Camelot was like before the ban. How people square magic. He learns, for the first time, more than his father had ever let him.

He's thinking of......well not reversing the magic ban. But this girl can't be evil surely.

He wishes Merlin were here, his advice is often quite sound. But Arthur is unsure if Merlin, who has been so outspoken against magic in the past, would agree with such loose laws.

But it comes down to this. Arthur cannot in good conscience kill that girl. And he can not have her as an exception. So he changes the law.

Merlin hasn't spent this long in Ealdor since before he left. He finds it quite lonely without Will to cause trouble with.

But he finds he is not ostracized like he was when he was a boy. In fact, more often than not he has to dodge mothers pushing their daughters onto him as prospects.

He is in his mother's house trying bundles of herbs to be dried and taken back to Camelot when his mother rushes in.

She stairs at him for a moment. Eyes wide, something clearly about to spill off her toung.

"Mother?" Merlin says moving closer, " What's wrong what happened? Has goodie meridan gone into labor?"

"Merlin. My boy. We just received news from Camelot. Gaius sent a letter. I....." Her face is flush. She doesn't look scared but Merlins heart drops anyway

"Arthur...." Merlin starts

"He's fine, he's fine" Hunith walks towards her son, cupping his face in her hands.

She laughs. Full belly and full of joy, her hands on his face strong, they almost hurt.

"He repealed the magic ban Merlin. Oh my boy by royal decree"

Merlins knees nearly give out.

"Surely you aren't serious....." Merlin gasps. "Do you have the letter?"

She hands it over and he reads frantically.

My good Hunith.

I write you instead of Merlin for reasons that will become obvious.

I also just request more of that dried lavender you sent last time, it does not smell the same from the north.

How is your neighbor Gregory fairing with his leg? My tonic recipe helped I hope, I would like to hear how it went.

There is news from Camelot. You might have heard, it will make fast news I'm sure.

A girl was brought to court for magic. Hardly 12 summers, she swears she did not train for magic, that it came naturally and she has no control.

Arthur was hesitant to burn her, despite the law, and tasked me with examining her.

I explained my findings, you know my friend how truly common it is to have magic as the girl does. Arthur listened well, and I sent the king off with what recommendations I could.

There are few books left on the subject but he spoke to Geoffrey. I assume he found some enlightened reading.

The next day, his verdict was as follows.

"The law of the land, as set by my Father King Uther, is that magic has no place in Camelot. I quite agree. Magic is dangerous, it has raveged my family.

But I can't help but think these laws might create more enemies. I cannot kill a girl for a crime she did not willingly commit. But I cannot banish her and create an enemy."

The council spoke on formal matters and specifics but Hunith, it is looking well. I feel hope I haven't had in decades.

Arthur has repealed the magic ban, in part. There are specifics to be worked out, and it is unclear if it would apply to Merlin. It certainly wouldn't apply to myself.

I will write again when I have more details.

I wish I could see the boy's face when he hears the news. Give him my love

Gaius

Merlin reads it. Than again. The third time he skims it he is tearing up. Looking desperately for any sign that Gaius tells a lie.

When he finds none, and there is no answer but that Gaius's words are true.

Merlin weeps. He falls to his knees and weeps.

Hunith cradles his head, spilling some tears of her own.

"oh my boy" she says. "What news. I knew Arthur would be a good king." She presses a kiss to her son's head.

Merlin cries, and wonders why he feels more scared than ever.

[ponderingmoonlight]

Hey 😊

Can I request an Obanai X reader drabble where he first sees reader being violent ever and the cause for that is someone saying a mean comments about obanai, and reader just goes absolutely crazy? Sorry if it doesn't make any sense. To be honest i'm dying for obanai content so if you would write anything featuring him, i'd be happy.

Wishing you a great day! 💜

„What was that?“

Your jaw clenches, darkened eyes staring into the distance. It’s not a secret to you or even Obanai himself that people talk behind his and everyone’s back. But hearing it with your own ears, those nasty words leaving those little demon slayer’s mouths.

They freeze right in place when your dangerously firm and steady voice reaches their ears.

Except one for them.

“What part exactly didn’t you understand, loser? Was it when I called that pathetic hashira a cold-blooded snake or the part I said he’s just waiting to betray the whole demon slayer corps?”, the boy jeers back at you and earns nervous laughter around him.

Your lover was always misunderstood. His cold appearance that is supposed to keep him and his actually caring heart safe. His face that stays hidden because he cannot stand his own scars, his appearance.

But questioning his loyalty when Iguro Obanai would risk his damn life for every single one of these losers? No, you can’t bear or accept that.

Faster than this pathetic pile of a man is even able to stumble a step back, you unleash your katana, grab his collar and press the blade against his throbbing neck.

"Say that again, and I’ll make sure you’ll regret it for the rest of your miserable life. Obanai’s loyalty runs deeper than anything you could ever understand, and if you ever dare to question it again, you'll find out just how wrong you are. You're not even worth the dirt on his boots, so watch your mouth before I shut it for you—permanently."

“As if I’d fear a pathetic little woman. Come on, get that blade off my face and fight me with your bare hands”, he presses out.

You don’t even give him time to react. In the split of a second you send a punishing blow to his midsection, knocking the wind out of him before he can even raise his dirty hands. The boy stumbles back, but you don't let up. Not for the shit he just talked. A quick, sharp kick to his knee sends him crashing to the ground whining.

Grabbing him by the collar, you lift him off the ground, holding him in the air with ease. His eyes widen in shock, stare at you through a glossy layer of tears.

“P-Plase stop, I-I…I didn’t mean it like that!”

“What exactly didn’t you mean?”

You slam him into the ground with enough force to rattle the room.

“When you said he’s pathetic and cold-hearted?”

His body crumples under the impact.

“Or when you questioned his loyalty towards the demon slayer corps?”

A groan escapes his split lips.

“I’ll mop the floor with you-“

The second Obanai enters the room, the atmosphere changes in an instant, forces your heart to skip a beat and mouth to shut.

“Seems I arrived just in time. Why are you beating up other corps members, (y/n)?”, he questions calmly.

You swallow hard, take in his gorgeous sight as he steps into the scene like a god.

“I was just taking care of the trash”, you comment dryly while sending a deadly glare at the boy who simply stumbles out of the room.

“Get lost, all of you but (y/n)”, he instructs sharply.

“Tell me what happened.”

“Let’s just say I took care of you with my own methods”, you purr, hand gently stroking up and down his arm.

“Are you trying to distract me?”

“I might. Does it work?”

Within the split of a second, he pulls you into his inviting arms.

“Maybe.”

[mypoisonedvine]

i can't remember if I sent something like this to you before. but a drabble where Jonathan crane is helping a student or fellow colleague test a new drug they made. however, the drug instead acts like an aphrodisiac making the reader completely pliable to jonathans wants...

YOU DID AND I WANTED TO WRITE IT AND IM SO GLAD YOU SENT IT AGAIN!!!

warnings: dubcon cause of the drug, breeding kink, spanking, kinda rough/aggressive, housewife and misogyny kink hehe

"Please, please," you whined as you tugged him closer by the lab coat, pressing your thighs together to try to hide the arousal running down them. "Please, Dr. Crane--"

"I don't know what you need," he panted, "tell me what you need, I'll try to help."

"I need... need you to--" you choked out, knowing you couldn't just say what was in your head: touch me, fuck me, need you inside me right now, need you to breed me--

He pulled you a little closer, looking at your face, and you whimpered as you looked up at him. "You're burning up," he noticed, pressing the back of his hand to your forehead, and you worried your knees would buckle.

"F-fuck, please," you begged again, "touch me more."

"Where?" he asked, but there was a sparkle in his eye that made you think he might already know what was going on. "Tell me where, and I'll help you."

You tried to grab his hand to guide it between your legs, but he pulled away.

"I want to hear you say it," he insisted.

"My pussy," you blurted out, "fuck, please-- I need to--"

He snapped suddenly, turning you around and bending you over the lab table in an instant. "I know what you need," he decided suddenly as he roughly stripped you, getting as much of your clothes out of the way as you arched your back and whined for more. "I know what you fucking need," he said again before smacking your bare ass harshly, making you shudder and pant. "Need to be filled."

"Yes," you breathed.

"Need to be fucked," he continued, and you whined.

"Yes!"

"Need to be bred."

You gasped as he pressed his cock against you, teasing your opening like you weren't already desperate enough. "H-how," you choked out, "how could you know I need that? Did you know the drug would do this?"

"No," he answered, "this is what you all need. You're just usually too afraid to admit it."

He plunged into you with a sigh, your whole body shaking as he started to fuck you-- not too hard, but not exactly delicate either.

"I didn't know what was in that drug you tried," he went on, "but I suppose whatever it is finally made you realize your purpose. To be bred and claimed."

"Oh god, Crane," you blurted out.

"I think you can call me Jonathan now," he laughed as he leaned down over you, holding your hips tighter. "We might as well be on a first name basis, if I'm gonna get you pregnant."

You purred and arched your back, everything in you crying out for exactly that.

"Such a cute little career woman," he chuckled, "but you're no better than this, are you? Still need a man to fuck some babies into you. Did you always want it to be me? Or will anybody do?"

You'd had a crush on him before, sure, but not exactly the type that makes you want a child-- that was definitely the drugs talking.

"Gonna get you so fucking full," he promised with a groan, "gonna give you every drop until you're pregnant-- think that'll help you calm down?"

"Yes," you sobbed, "fuck, please--"

"Can't wait to see you like that," he smiled, "full with my baby. Tits all swollen and sore... so needy and wet all the time from the hormones-- sort of like this, hopefully a little more rational, though. You're gonna make the prettiest housewife, sweetheart, now that you finally know your place."

[bonny-kookoo]

More someone older smut drabble pls

When he wakes up, he feels somewhat.. anxious?

He slowly sits up in his bed to look around, checking the digital clock next to his bed on the small table twice just to make sure that he's truly not asleep anymore. Because this- just doesn't feel quite real.

There's faint music playing in his home, outside the bedroom. The smell of something cooking fills the room as well, dishes clattering a bit in the sink in the kitchen. He knows it must be you- he's aware that you're staying with him after all. But still.

This feels too much like his mind making things up.

The bedroom door opens slowly, your head poking in, before you realize he's awake. "Oh, you're up." You say, entering more openly now. "I hope I didn't wake you."

"Why did you get up without me?" He wonders, feet meeting the floor as he's moved to sit on the edge of the bed, making you giggle as you sit down on the bed on your knees.

"Cause.. I wasn't tired anymore." You shrug, reaching out to somewhat tame his slightly wild bedhead. "And I thought you might appreciate breakfast?"

"I do appreciate that." He smiles, before he catches you off guard by tugging on your arm and making you lay down, before he positions himself over you. "But you could've also woken me up." He chuckles before pecking your lips once.

"But you were sleeping so tight." You say. "Looked like you were dreaming."

"Hm.. I was." He agrees, kisses moving to your neck. "Of you."

"Oh?" You wonder, stretching your arms above your head for a second. "What were you dreaming of?" You ask.

"Things I'd love to make a reality one day." He purrs against your skin, before he releases you again. 'I'll shower real quick, alright?" He tells you, before he pecks your lips once more and leaves into the bathroom to shower-

And you're honestly not sure what makes you feel so bold.

Maybe it's that feeling of safety you have with him, this odd sense of security here in his home, as if nothing can really harm you in here. So when you move to enter the bathroom as well, shower already running with him inside, you don't feel any sort of hesitation as you shed your clothes and join him beneath the warm water.

It's a sight that easily makes him stir alive, remnants of his dream revived as he watches the water pearl down your skin. The way you easily touch and kiss him is making his head spin, making him forget about your past hesitation in its entirety.

This is how it's supposed to be. Easy, simple. No worries about what might be the best thing to do.

Just existing.

Your hand on him makes him gasp into your mouth, a sound you eagerly swallow, his back hitting the tiled wall of the shower. He manages to turn the steady stream of water up ahead a bit lower as you fall to your knees, the anti slip mat on the shower floor cushioning them quite a bit as you work on him.

It's now what his dream was about- but he's sure he could never come up with a scene as serene as this anyways, imagination not advanced enough to even think of this potentially happening.

Just like back at your place before, this time once more he's a slave to your actions. It's causing his mind to go blank at the way your tongue runs over the head of his cock, beckoning him further and further towards his release. And then your hands join in to hold and touch what you can't fit, effortlessly making the muscles in his thighs spasm as he spills inside your mouth with his head thrown back against the tiles of the shower, a hand in your hair.

He can't let this stand.

And he doesnt- returning the favor shamelessly so with both his hands and mouth, eagerly devouring you as his first breakfast before he later on sits at the table in the kitchen to eat his actual one, conversation innocent enough to mask over the things that went down not even long enough ago to dry your hair fully.

If this is a dream, he doesn't want to wake up. If all the Christmas decor and your words about baking later are lies, he doesn't want to hear the truth.

He wants to stay like this-

And he'll do anything to make it work.

[i-smoke-chapstick]

Can I just have a small bit of headcanons or a Drabble on your pick of multi Gotham boys and their hands? Like I dunno if this is weird or not but kinda like just a dive down on what their hands feel like, who’s are soft and who’s are rough, who has vein hands, who has calloused hands. Just that kind of stuff please?🙏🤭🥺 (reason being of a specific hand edit I saw on tiktok 💀, also don’t feel obligated to do this if you don’t wanna. I completely understand.)

'FLESH, [hand! hcs]

-GOTHAM!VILLAINS X READER-

⋆ Characters ↬ Oswald Cobblepot, Victor Zsasz, Jonathan Crane

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; gotham villains and how they use their hands on reader ;)

⋆ tags/warnings. GOTHAM!villains x female reader. Not pure porn but smut. Suggestive. Might be the most vanilla thing i've written? but I love this request so much and I AM A SLUT for these men. Canon typical violence for Victor, Oswald getting a little rough ;)

𝛰𝑆𝑊𝐴𝐿𝐷 𝐶𝛰𝐵𝐵𝐿𝐸𝑃𝛰𝑇

♫ “This is just my way of unleashing the feelings deep inside of me.” Flesh by Simon Curtis

I know what you're thinking.

Oswald's hands? Out of every Gotham man I could've chosen???

YES. YES OSWALD'S HANDS. Have you seen this mans HANDS? Whether they are on a knife, or in those red gloves, or if he's leaning forward on them? All predatory like...

Not to mention...the VEINS. In almost every scene I've seen of this man? His hands are VEINY. Skinny bird man is not living up to that penguin stereotype, especially not in the earlier seasons.

God- just the way he stirs the wine glass or glass of brandy. Yeah. He's thinking and wishing it was your thighs he was holding, staring into the golden swirls.

The man has some issues with being nervous during sex, but when he lets loose he lets LOOSE. And he becomes feral, desperate, grinding and PAWING for every part of you he can kiss and hold and worship.

C'mon. We see the way he grips that cane of his. The way he holds the custom made knife. The way he gets his knuckles all bloody from hitting Fish or doing his own dirty work in season 1.

Also...going back to those red gloves of his. Could you imagine? Him making you grind yourself into the palm of his hand, watching you, mesmerized at the feeling of skin on leather.

He just wants to watch you writhe from pleasure. His little true love all needy for him and his hands. Gah.

He's so flustered, by the way, if you tell him you like his hands. He's sputtering, and asking why, but that little cheeky (and villainous mastermind) part of him is making a note to use them even more.

"You-," He says with a bit of an unbelieving smile, brows furrowed, voice wavering before his face turns to a look of complete shock, "You want me to what?"

Don't get him wrong, he's listening intently to your wishes, he just looks like he's seen a ghost at your vulgarity. He's not used to being wanted.

𝑉𝐼𝐶𝑇𝛰𝑅 𝑍𝑆𝐴𝑆𝑍

♫ “You can dominate the game 'cause I'm tough / This spark of black that I seem to love.” Flesh by Simon Curtis

This man might have the most iconic hands out of EVERYONE on this list.

I mean, c'mon now. When you think of leather-clad knuckle-less gloves, who do you think of?

The man, the myth, the legend himself. Victor Zsasz has the hands of a working man and he likes to use them.

These are the same hands he carries his guns in, the same trigger finger that will pump inside you while you mewl around him.

In all seriousness, though, he LOVES his hands too. They are his favorite part of his body. Without his hands, what would he be able to do? He's skilled with them. Pleasuring you with them is no different.

They are slightly calloused from the sharp edges of the guns he holds, but he's learned to use his gloves to protect them. Regardless, the old scars and marks from when he was just a boy playing with a tec-9 still remain.

Also, he canonically wears rings when we first see him in the show. Yeah, he's using that to his advantage.

You'll feel the cold metal as he drags a finger along your spine, watching you shiver. He'll do that lazy side-smirk, breathing heavily as he watches you arch up into him just from a touch.

Don't tell him you love his hands. Please, for the sake of the zsaszettes having to suffer a total EGO trip. He's taking it in stride.

But if you do happen to mention it...he's bragging about it.

Every time he gets complimented on a nice shot, he's bring you up.

I can imagine him holding someone hostage, whether its Jim or someone else. He notices them staring at the gun in his hand, full of fear, and he'll look flattered.

"Oh? Are you staring at my hands? Sorry, I'm taken." He's mentioning, off-hand, to the rando he's kidnapped. It doesn't matter if the hostage is a full on 50 year old man. "My girlfriend says she loves my hands. Y'know, life's work, and all that."

𝐽𝛰𝑁𝐴𝑇𝐻𝐴𝑁 𝐶𝑅𝐴𝑁𝐸

♫ “This is not the way into my heart, into my head. / Into my brain, into none of the above.” Flesh by Simon Curtis

Okay, maybe i’m just a monster fucker, but HEAR ME OUT!!

Uncut nails behind those talons of his on his costume. On or off.

Sometimes, he’ll be fully clothed, drawing scratch-marks into your skin, lowly humming in pleasure. That little spark of fear in your eyes when he draaaaaags down just right makes him go crazy.

He can’t help it. You’re his armeggedon, his muse, his savior all in one. The remedy to his madness…and you get all worked up from just a touch. It strokes his ego, like Victor, but he’s quieter about it.

Dirt beneath his fingernails, callouses and blisters from working with those damned poisons. He’s suffered a chemical burn or two, and you’ll see the small circle scars on his knuckles.

You’re like his personal test subject. He likes to study you- watch your expressions when he glides his nails down your skin, almost touching you- but not quite.

Surprisingly a tease when he finds out. He’s nonchalant. He won’t let you see the sheer arousal simmering beneath the surface.

But boy, it’s there. His heavy breathing. It affects him just as much as it effects you. The chill down your back, the shivers left in his wake. He takes his time edging playing with you.

You might need to ask him to cut them lowkey because they can be kinda painful when he’s fingering you. Or…if you’re into that little sting of pain while his tongue massages your clit through his mask.

He doesn’t talk much, but when he does, it’s filthy.

“There you go, little mouse. You like it, don’t you?” He pauses, in thought, while you grind for friction like a cat in heat against his finger tips. “I wonder…where I should sink my claws into you next?”

That damned deep voice of his…the subtle curl of his fingers inside you. Before you know it, he’s pumping in and out, trying to elicit the most vulgar reactions from you. He can’t help it. For a man who prides himself on control…he looses it all when he’s with you.