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yougavememyopia · 2 days ago

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Here's the result from the poll! Sorry, it took long. I lost my progress and had to write it over T-T. Longer than usual to make it up to my lovely peeps. Anyway, here is the confident, popular yandere who becomes a desperate pathetic mess for you.

Popular yandere, who was never alone. Circled with adored gazes and loud chatters, people gathered around him like he was some kind of celebrity. His overstretched smile full of fake glee. Crinkled eyes masking a hollow emptiness. No one would care enough to truly look at him, all too busy talking nineteen to the dozen.

It was so easy to predict them. The mundane topics boring him to death. Nothing exciting ever happened. Gritting his teeth, he endured their ramblings. Endured their dullness. Their stupid problems.

Taps of his pencil slapped the wooden desk rapidly. A practiced, charming grin when he greeted you— his new project partner. The invisible loser at the background whose face he rather recognized.

"Hey there, guess we're partners, huh? What a total unplanned coincidence! Uhh, anyway, you can pick the topic. Nono, please, go ahead. I'll just follow your lead."

His crew strolled passed you in the fields. Always sinked down on the grass with your back against the concrete wall. Blue light reflected on your face, nose buried deep in your phone.

Your lack of a life amused him. Fascinated at how isolated you were, and yet you were beaming. Giggling at your screen while your posture got worse. Not seeming a bit sad about being alone or wasting your time playing on a machine.

Simple enquiring quickly led to obsessive stalking. Justified by stating how he was merely observing you. Interested in your name and your hobbies, what you ate for the day, where you walked when you had no school, how the interior of your home looked like. A bit of curiosity, that was all!

The school project was the key to getting closer to you. Instant refusal to every person coming his way, sweet talking them into grouping together by pointing out their strengths. No objections were made. His judgment very well-trusted. Now you had the idolized annoyance as your group member, exactly like he planned.

FINALLY, he could talk to the nobody persistently invading his mind. The endless thoughts of you giving him heartache. He couldn't get his beauty sleep at night, and when he did, the dreams were all about you. He wasn't normally the type to approach people, not like he had the time to. Every waking moment of his day was stuffed with zealous yet shallow admirers. Everyone loved him. Gawking at his good looks, adoring his style, praising his intelligence.

You didn't even bat an eye.

He was nonexistent to you. Eyes boring into indifference. Frustrated, at how you treated him like he was someone insignificant. People already began to question his strange, out of the blue behaviour. How he stared at the wall without blinking. You were getting the best of him— he couldn't keep his mask on, uncontrollably snapping at people, apologizing as if he was having a bad day. Every day was a bad day. A torturous wait for you to just look his way.

If you didn't notice him anytime soon, he was going to do something crazy.

Thanks to the project, you finally spoke to him. Irritated, sure. But you saw him, a dopey grin on his face when you repeated back his name. Even getting away with patting your shoulder. He greeted you in the hallways the day after, approached you during lunch the next week, and then started to text you like crazy the following month. No idea how clingy he was acting until you pointed it out. Falling more in love with your weirdness and hidden personality.

You acted uncertain towards him. Hesitant that this was a prank. Afraid that you'd become a laughing stock if this progressed any further. So you built a metaphorical wall between you.

Questions after questions overwhelmingly flooded his brain. Your behaviour much different than the way he was used to being treated. Sarcastic remarks and harsh dismissals hurt his poor, sad heart.

He started to crave even the slightest approval from those around him— what did they think of his carefully picked outfit? Or his light makeup and shiny hair? He needed you to drool over him like the rest of the school did, yet you still didn't trust him. Accusing him of being fake, when all he wanted was to befriend you.

"B-but I swear, I genuinely want to be your friend. Please, listen. I can be myself around you. I don't have to be perfect, y'know? I thought you'd understand..."

As you grew more doubtful of his intentions, he became more hopeless. Desperate to change your mind while fighting the insecurity that loomed over him.

You pushed him to completely give in to the urge to follow you home and watch over you from a distance. He'd ask his many connections to keep an idea on you when he couldn't, but since their questions and teasing and judgement would get on his nerves, he settled for a tracking device instead. The digital dot always beeping in the same, familiar spots on the map.

His mind jumbled into a chaotic mess. Your dislike for him beyond his comprehension. All he ever did was be nice, so why did you not give him the time of day? Gifts nor compliments, nothing was good enough for you. He had never did anything like this before. Chase after someone. Love, actually love someone.

For your attention, he was willing to do whatever.He longed to be useful to you. Be at your beck and call at any time like a loyal dog. Everything from your terrible posture to your poor diet to your sleep schedule, he could take care of it. He could take care of you.

In the end, he had no patience, he couldn't stand the wait— he had to ask you out. A spontaneous minute that he wished he could take back. Stutters left his lips while he tried to make the date sound super romantic. Roses, candle lit dinner, moonlight. A perfected plan delivered with anxious jitter. Red face burning hotter than glowing coals and big, round eyes awaited the response.

"Eh... no thanks."

His eyes twitched. You were a loser! A common known label that he hated to use. But how could you turn down the first guy who pursued you? Choosing fictional anime crushes over a live flawless boy pleading for a date. How long were you going to stay in your lonely shell as a kissless virgin?

His determination didn't waver. He was willing to do anything to win you over. Countless attempts turned down due to excuses. Weeks after weeks of him chasing after you. You were driving him insane. Like you were doing this on purpose. "No?!? W-Wha... Why not? You don't want to go outside, you don't want to come to my place, why... Why can't I come to yours? I-I don't care if it's messy or if it s-smells. I actually love it. Um, I just need a chance, please. I need to prove to you that my love is real."

How did he end up being the one begging at your feet? Fingers clenching around your calves, while he looked up with a shameful blush on his face. Embarrassing himself in front of everyone he knew. Their gasps and murmurs ringing through his ears. Humiliation turning his body weak. Hot unwanted tears flooding his vision. He didn't care— he couldn't take the rejection anymore.

"Please believe me, please. It hurts so bad. Ah, I can't breathe. I love you so much. Pleasepleaseplease don't push me away. Don't cast me aside. I want to be with you. I want to be with you..."

He could barely make out your face with the fat tears rolling down his cheeks. His forehead rested on your knee, his head down as if waiting a death sentence. It was getting more awkward the longer he stayed on his knees. Yet he stayed glued to the harsh, cold floor. He'd never felt emotions to this level of intensity before you came. The hurt tightening his chest. A vice grip clamping down to crush his lungs.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you sighed. Feeling bad about the dishevelled flawed mess he turned into. Sweat worked up on your skin from the many eyes staring at the scene.

"You won't stop until I say yes, huh? I guess you proved you were telling the truth. So, fine. Let's get going now... You brought quite the audience here."

"..." His head remained stuck against your knees. Hands shaking against your legs while he exhaled. Not budging at all. The hushed whispers exchanged in the background making your blood boil. "What are you guys staring at? Scram! Go away! Leave him alone."

And they slowly faded one by one. You ran a hand through the soft, silky hair of the needy boy. More attentive to the mess on the floor to care about your surroundings anymore. Sitting on the floor beside him, you lazily wrapped his arms around your neck. A finger pressing his chin up so you could take a good look at him. He sniffed. Eyes all puffy and red. A deprived beg escaping his glossy lips.

"Please... I—"

You cut him off with a small smile. "You can hug me until you're satisfied. I'll be here."

Arms tangled tighter around you. Head tilted in, and you realized what this meant. A hint of anxiety bursted butterflies your stomach. But you went for it. Suppressing the flinch and moving in. Eyes half-lidded when velvety flesh met. Low hum buzzing from him. He pulled you closer and closer. Lips parted while you snaked your tongue into his mouth. A loud moan met your eardrums. Your little theory of him wanting you to take charge confirmed correct.

He melted like butter despite how you barely knew what you were doing. Uneven movements and unsure licks were just met with pathetic whimpers. Each stroke of saliva making him hot and dizzy. You had a way of making him unbelievably sensitive. No clue to why he felt like this was his first real kiss too. Never understanding the fuss about this pleasant feeling until now.

He pulled back for breathe much too soon, and panted against your face. "I'm so glad we found each other, darling. C-can I call you that? Since I'm your b-boyfriend now... Right?"

You didn't answer. He didn't give you a chance to. Another peck was placed on your lips. Desperate tongue reaching to wet your lips while you cupped his face. Hands grabbing your wrists to ensure you keep them there. Determination ran through him; He was going to plead and plead until you finally gave in.

#yandere #desperate yandere #yandere oc #obsessive love #yanblr #pathetic yandere #dom reader #male yandere #pathetic men #sub yandere #yandere x reader #yandere boy #male yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere male #male yandere x reader

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vertbrunch · 3 days ago

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Thanks for the love on this project !

If you are interested, here is an explanation of how I did the mask so that the mandibles can move. (Idk how to do tutorial so this is the best I can with my crappy drawings djdjdjdjd sorry)

I started the base of the mask the same way that the artist @miquililintal (on Instagram) start some of here own mask, by making kind of cardboard helmet.

To have a movable jaw, you need to have this inclined part in the side, and you need to be mindful of where your rotation joint is placed alongside your face.

Don’t quote me on this because it took me a few tries to get it right lmao but I feel like If it’s to low or to high or if it is not inclined enough it won’t be as effective? For me at least it did not move very well when I first tried with a non-inclined base.

When you’re at this step, you can start to build up your mask with all those form, and then you should add a horizontal support bar that is not connected to the jaw part (The jaw part should be left independently so that it can move freely !). You will build your mandible on this horizontal part, by cutting out and assembling two pieces like in this picture below:

Then you add a string from the furthest point possible of your mandible and connect it to the lower point of your movable jaws like pictured below BUT I advised that you do so while wearing the mask and while you have your jaw opened to your maximum and By stretching the string as much as possible so that it can be as effective as possible when it is done.

I colored the string and hid it with a piece of black tissue so that it doesn’t block the thread.

On the picture above I colored the path that the string should take in green.

Thanks to some fursuit tutorial that I came upon on Instagram I learned about this technique from the furry community that uses mesh material like mosquito net so that you can see something without being seen so thank you fursuits maker for sharing your awesome tips this rocks. (the mesh material here is a Christmas table set so you can still see a bit the stars and snow globes and stuff but idc).

Fun fact: the eyes glow in the dark thanks to cool «glow in the dark paint» but idk how to take a picture of that so you’ll have to believe me.

Good luck on your craft journey everyone !

Made an ant mask. The mandibles moves when you open your mouth.

#crafts #diy craft

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whysoblue2 · 3 days ago

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The Perfect Valentine

I finally did it! This is my first ever proper coloured comic and damn... 12 panels in 4 pages containing 10 characters. I am excited to be finally showing it! That PSD file is 90+ layers big I felt so sorry for my laptop💙🤣 I hope you enjoy and check the end to find out which asks have been answered in this long-ass delirium of mine!

The End

Thank you all for getting all the way down here. Following this you'll find the asks from: @number-one-kallamar-lover @ebanyphoenix22 @saiwasneverhere and a bunch of lovely Anons

Yes, Kall has an expensive perfume collection. The more expensive the better and he doesn't even wear them too much because he has delicate skin, but he loves the little bottles! Thank you for the Spy Kit! He's gonna need it as you can see, and the marshmallows are so cute!

He did NOT expect the pipe bomb and unlike Narinder, he takes the message in a totally different way. Yes, she does. And girls like her. Shamura loves their warm quilt and they are sipping his hot cocoa while preparing the next D&D campaign with his... ehm... simp actually. Will Sozo ever conquer the conqueror's heart? How does the explosion get to Narinder for his affront? Life found a way. Ironically through his older brother and we love irony in this house. They are technically holding a whole lot of Narinder, but they LOVE THEIR WIFE! Thank you, everyone. WHAT A JOURNEY!

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star2fishmeg · 3 days ago

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having a bad day and coming home to flowers from Luke

You couldn't have had a worse day. It started with your teacher being in a foul mood, which killed everyone else's with snappy comments and criminal tasks, then someone threw juice over you (accidently and they had apologised but sticky clothing was still awful), you tripped up the stairs on your way to a study room and then another teacher just had to give you the most unhelpful advice on your assignment, leaving you stuck in square one. The worst part, you couldn't even go back to your own apartment because you had no hot water. At some point in the day you called Luke, you couldn't remember when, but you remember sobbing before heading to class and he did his best to console you despite just finishing practice exhausted.

You shuffle through Luke's door, slipping your shoes off sloppily with an overbearing weight on your shoulders, bag feeling heavier than usual.

"I'm home!" you call out, making your way through his place, the kitchen and living room seemingly unused, not even a sign of Jack, "Can we order take-out? I'm not in the mood to cook."

"Sounds good, angel." Luke's voice, mildly distant, responds from his bedroom.

A small, weak smile quirks on your lips for the first time that day and you follow his voice through the hallway, pushing his door open, expecting to see him changing but instead you drop your bag on the floor. Your lip quivers, gaze softening at sight of him standing with a bouquet of flowers in his hands, his smile making your heart warm.

"Oh, Lu." You coo with adoration, closing the door behind you and taking the flowers from his hands, sparks flushing over your skin when your fingers brush as if you weren't used to it. You bring the flowers to your nose, eyes fluttering close as you take a whiff of their scent before looking back up at him with eyes brighter than when you'd walked in. "This...you...you didn't have to; this is so sweet. And you got my favourites!"

He rubs the back of his neck with his hand and chuckles slightly, "Hey, I listen! When you told me you were having a bad day, I wanted to give you something to come home to, I know it's, uh, not much but you've been wanted some and I bought some candles for a bath too...if you're up for it."

Tears slip down your cheeks, but happy tears because you wonder what you did to deserve someone as attentive and thoughtful as Luke. You really had expected just to come home to a hug since he had his own tiring day, but he bought you flowers. Flowers! No one's ever bought you flowers before. On top of that, you knew he tried hard with the candles, they weren't his thing, but he knew you loved them after a long day. He awkwardly stares a little, internal panic arising seeing your tears and he immediately thinks he's missed something.

You lay the bouquet on his dresser and urgently throw yourself into him, arms winding around his middle tight and pressing your ear to his chest. His arms secure around your shoulders, and he places a kiss on your head, smiling warmly. The weight you had been carried lifted from your shoulders, your body feeling light and cosy wrapped up in Luke's arms again.

"I love you. So much. Thank you." You sniff, tilting your head up at his soft eyes, "But you're always the best part of my day."

"I love you more,” his voice is quiet, his hands sneaking underneath your shirt to caress over your waist and back, "sooo...is that a yes to the bath?"

His eyes search yours with a glint in them, desperate to have the evening with just you before Jack bundles in. His palms soothe up to your ribs and hiking your shirt higher up your body with a growing grin pulling onto his lips.

"You're so cheeky, oh my God. Come here, Snoopy." You shake your head with a giggle, rolling your eyes playfully, fingers wrapping in the collar of his hoodie and pulling him down to connect your lips into a sweet kiss.

#≡lh43 #luke hughes #luke hughes x reader

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luveline · 3 days ago

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Jade can we get hotch and his daughter again I miss them!!!!!

You’ll confess to liking your father’s new apartment. It’s well-furnished and warm. It’s nothing like the house, though. You can hardly tell anyone lives here when you aren’t putting your laundry bag by the washer-dryer to go in next, the bedroom especially untouched. You suspect your father lives out of his wardrobe and go-bag, as it’s called.

Different to the house. You’re always welcome. No strange silences pervade when you come knocking —if Aaron’s home, he opens the door already having pulled the chain lock down to let you in, and, despite his apparent stress and budding depression, he asks you what you need.

How was school? How’s your studying coming along? Did you find a potential grad outfit yet? Did you need a check for that?

It’s too much, sometimes, but not because you don’t want it.

You hesitate at the door. From inside, you can hear the barest hum of the TV. Maybe he’s actually relaxing for once. Maybe you should leave poor Aaron alone.

You’re selfish. “Dad?” you ask, letting some excitement colour your voice, “Hello! Are you napping?”

It’s gotta be five quick seconds before the doors being pulled open. “Hey, sweetheart,” he croaks, all tired eyes and rumpled pajamas as he stands aside. You dodge his arm, laughing at his disgruntled groan. “You can go home if this is what I have to deal with.”

You let him close the door and lock it before you turn back to him. “Tell me you weren’t just sleeping on the couch? I thought we had a few more years.”

“I was asleep in bed.”

“You got to the door super fast.”

“I was getting up. We got home late,” —he drags a hand over his face— “and I didn’t sleep on the jet. Let me go get dressed and we’ll go for breakfast.” He checks his watch. “Uh, dinner.”

“Or we could order in?”

He sighs in relief. “Or we’ll order in. Good idea.”

You don’t comment as he steps past you to the couch. You’ve missed your opportunity for a hug. It’s your own fault for dodging the first one.

You slip out of your shoes and leave them neatly by the door, hanging your jacket on the hook, and your sweater on the back of the couch. He holds up a hand as you sit down on the couch and you take it for what it is, a beckoning to sit near enough for him to hold your shoulder. “Alright?” he asks, touching the side of your face with his knuckles briefly, before leaving you to your personal space. “You look tired. I don’t mean that unkindly. How have you been sleeping?”

“You’re the third person to tell me that today, but I don’t feel tired.”

“Maybe you just need something to eat,” he says. “Pass me the phone, honey, I’ll call for us.”

He calls. You listen to him talk. You love how polite he is to everyone and especially people who work jobs like you did. Despite his titles and expertise, he doesn’t condescend. He says thank you twice. And he orders all your favourites, so you have to give him double the credit for being observant.

You slip a ways down into your seat and look Aaron over. To no one’s surprise, having a father who cares about you is easy work for the heart. Your life is changed. He’s good, and you like being around him, but it’s a funny thing to look at this man you’ve known for a year and to know you love him. He really is everything you ever wanted, as a kid. He isn’t picking you up from sleepovers or rubbing your back when you cry, but you’re sure he’d do both of those things if asked. You like that you can come here without asking. You like that he doesn’t care why.

He doesn’t look young, exactly, but he doesn’t look quite old enough yet to have a daughter your age. He could be a coworker. The thought makes you huff.

“What?” he asks, already smiling.

“Just thinking about something.”

“About what?”

“You’re not as young as you look.”

He rolls his eyes. “Right, right, I forget that you come here to insult me. You know, Jack told me I was getting more ‘crinkles’ the other day.”

“Kids say the darndest things,” you tease lightly.

“I’m not old.”

“I said you’re not as young as you look, that means you’re doing well.”

“I think I look right for my age,” he says contritely, but grinning, tipping his head back against a cushion. “It’s good to look your age. It’s a privilege to be old.”

“I thought you weren’t.”

“I’m not. I’m just saying… I’m lucky to be here still,” he says, giving you a nudge, “or I wouldn’t know my girl, would I?”

“And sappy in your old age.”

“Mm.” He grabs the remote, turning the TV onto a movie channel and upping the volume. “Unfortunately.”

You turn into him and let your knees touch. You watch TV waiting for your dinner to arrive in companionable silence, not tired but worn, not bored but somehow restless. You wonder if wanting a hug off your dad when you haven’t had very many is wrong of you. But the thing is —is that he really feels like your dad. Just the way he talks to you cements it. Sometimes when you’re with him, you feel like a kid again.

When he touched the side of your face and told you that you looked tired, it felt like a compliment, somehow, the signals all crossed in your head, ‘cos it was nice to be cared for.

“Dad?” you ask quietly.

Aaron turns his gaze to yours, not bothering to square away his joy at being called such a thing. “What, honey?”

“Do you think… would it be really weird if I asked for a hug?” you ask shyly. Heat floods your cheeks and nose, but he doesn’t laugh.

“Come here,” he says, sitting up a touch, arm extended for you to fold under. He wraps you in, lets you slouch into his touch just like Jack does in those slices of time after dinner and before bed. “Not weird. I mean, you’re a big girl,” —he laughs— “but I don’t think there’s an age limit.”

“I know that. Just don’t know if you want to.”

If he sees you wringing your fingers, he ignores it. “Why wouldn’t I want to?” He settles back on the couch, pulling you a little to make sure you go with him. Not like Jack laying bodily atop him, but still a nice hug.

“Don’t know.”

You both sort of know why. You’re old. You’re not supposed to want this stuff. You should find it too awkward and the time for affection has passed. And yet.

He hums softly. “I love you, honey.”

You know, but it’s nice to be told. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

He doesn’t begrudge the way you put it, sinking again into the couch, his eyes looking heavy with some contentness, but mostly fatigue. “Don’t let me fall asleep before the food gets here,” he says.

“You got it, boss.”

He gives your shoulder a rough, dad-like squeeze. You laugh and squirm away. After a few seconds apart, he shuffles you back toward him.

“Is it hard?” he asks.

“What?”

“Finishing the year out. Getting ready for your exams. The bar. Is it stressing you out? You can be all caught up on sleep and still exhausted, I’d know.”

“Yeah, it is. Yeah, but it’s just a few more months. I can do it.”

“I know you can do it, baby,” he says, drawing your attention from the TV, “that's not in question.”

His voice is soft like a strip of velvet. You’ve stopped being surprised at his propensity for gentleness, but you don’t always know what to do in the face of it.

“What are you doing tomorrow?” he asks.

“Nothing. Just studying.”

“Okay, so stay the night, the guest rooms calling your name, and tomorrow morning we’ll just study.”

“Do you even remember–”

“Don’t insult me.”

“It’s a lot.”

“I remember. I used to drive Haley mad.” He goes quiet for a bit. Two or three seconds where you know he’s thinking about their separation. “But I couldn’t have done it without her. It’s hard work, committing it all to memory, we can make more flash cards.”

“That would be nice.”

“Not exactly helping you with your math homework.”

“Are you any good at it?”

“Math?” He laughs. “Not anymore.”

“You forget all that stuff, right? I knew we would.”

“Yeah, you do. I had to get rid of all that stuff to make room for work.”

“Oh, so it was on purpose?”

“I’ll ignore what you’re implying. I’m gonna eat all the poppadoms when they get here, but I’ll ignore it.”

“Sick.”

He shrugs.

“I’ll tell Jack.”

“Oh, don’t. If your brother knows we had butter chicken without him he’ll throw a fit.”

“We can save him some.”

Aaron lets his face rest on the back of the couch. “Good idea.”

“Aaron, don’t sleep.”

He grins. “I’m not. I’m resting my eyes.”

Ridiculous. “Is it… Can you have Jack tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. She doesn’t really like it that I’m only having him on the weekends. She says she gets all the hard parts and I have all the fun.”

You don’t know what to say. “Well, I guess that’s kinda true.”

“Yeah. Thing is, I can’t say sure, I’ll have him Sunday through to Wednesday because I never know if they’re gonna send me somewhere with the team. I can’t even confidently take him on the weekend. I can’t promise I’ll be here.”

“I know.”

He squints at you. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine.” You give him a rueful smile. “What are you sorry to me for?”

“It’s not just Jack I’m letting down.”

“You haven’t let me down,” you say, practicing some of his softness. “Maybe you have let Jack down, I don’t know, I’m not Jack, but so long as you’re trying to do well by him, I think that’s probably enough. You… you and Haley, you’re not sure what’s happening.” You don’t like telling him he and Haley have a happy ending, because everything he’s told you so far doesn’t agree, but you don’t wanna kick him while he’s down either. “It’s okay to need time to like, get things straight. You have the apartment, you have the guest room, you’re offering to have him when you can. You do have to make the effort, but you know that already.”

“I know, but thanks, honey. You’ve listened to too much of my whining.”

“You listen to me whine all the time.”

He squeezes you to him. “I love listening to you.”

“I don’t mind listening to you, either.”

“The horrors of adulthood, listening to your deadbeat dad complain.”

“Shut up, you’re not a deadbeat. You’re stressing me out.”

“Sorry.” He rubs your arm again and lets you loose. “Oh, sweetheart, I got your snacks, if you’re hungry. They’re in the cabinet by the fridge.”

“I can wait.”

He sighs very deeply. You’re sure he’s gonna nod off, but he forces himself to stand. “Thank you for coming over. I couldn’t do this without you.”

“What, the sad bachelor thing?” You giggle to yourself as he stands up. “Where are you going? I’m just kidding.”

“I’m getting your snacks.”

You turn on the couch to watch him. He unveils a bunch of your favourite things from the cabinet. You can see Jack’s fruit snacks, his yogurt covered raisins, and it gives you a chest ache thinking about Aaron all alone this weekend. “You know I do love you, right?” you ask carefully.

He comes back, looking super tired but not so sad. “I know. I’m the luckiest man alive if I have you and your brother, you know that?”

“Okay.”

Aaron laughs, dropping your candies in your lap with a thunk. He got the big bag. “Okay. Tuck into those, and I’ll go see about your bother coming over tomorrow. Did you have pajamas in the laundry?”

“Uh…”

“I’ll look.”

You did not wanna get up. “Thanks!” you say, cracking open your bag of candy with a smile, missing the fond look he throws your way from behind.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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lyrifaun · 2 days ago

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Thank you so much for the art. I love this game, I’ve been working through it for years in little meditative bursts. The art is killer all the way down— some of the spookiest and most beautiful pieces ever.

Everyone should play this thing.

Character Art I did for Where the Water Tastes like Wine, I was the principal artist on this project. it was so long ago. Some of these images are 8 years old. Absolutely crazy.

#BEST GAME OF ALL TIME

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lovecla · 1 day ago

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MAKE IT TO THE MORNING ; JACK HUGHES

PAIR jack hughes x fem!reader

SUMMARY being jack hughes’ girlfriend comes with a lot of hardships— but in the mornings, you realize it is all worth it.

WARNINGS unedited, p in v, unprotected sex, oral sex (f. receiving), rough sex, p slapping, cockwarming, dirty talk, jack is lowkey a little shit, reader loves him tho, inspired by the song “make it to the morning” by partynextdoor. freaky af!!!

WORD COUNT 2,3k

FROM ME TO YOU a little late (literally, it’s like 3am for me), but this is my thank you gift for you guys because today i woke up with 700 of you!! i’m still too in shock to say anything besides thank you so much. i was celebrating 600 followers like a month ago and now this. i’ll keep working hard to give you guys good content <3 ily and pls enjoy

𖧷

don't scream or shout, i'm workin' my way down

girl, you gettin' loud, now put it in yo' mouth

THE SOUND of your heels clicking against the marble floor were enough to piss anyone off. It was annoying, repetitive and even you were starting to get tired of the little tec tec sound, but you couldn’t stop.

Dating Jack Rowden Hughes was not for the weak. And you knew that, more than anyone else. Being his girlfriend of three years— the longest time he has ever been in a relationship, mind you—, you knew that the prize was good, but the job of keeping it was tiring.

You stared at him across the room, talking to some random fans who definitely didn’t know what being a fan was, since they were all over him, with their hands on his arms and shoulders.

He eyed you from time to time, blue eyes making it hard for you to stay one hundred percent mad at him— truthfully, you knew that all it would take for you to forgive him for his playboy behaviour would be a single kiss and an aggressive make out session.

“It isn’t so fun watching from here, huh?” Quinn’s new fling, or whatever the girl standing beside you was, said, approaching you quietly. “Trust me, I know how it feels.”

You hummed, not engaging with her. You knew Jack wouldn’t actually do anything, but still, it didn’t feel nice to get painted as the dumb girlfriend who has to watch her famous boyfriend laugh and take pictures with hundreds of girls while she stands in the back.

“I’m lucky my Quinn isn’t as nearly as talkative as he is,” she continues, despite your silence. “But you know, Jack is everyone’s favorite.”

You turned your head to the side, watching the girl next to you eye Jack the same way she eyed Quinn, hungry and suggestive, and that was enough for you.

“Sorry,” you interrupted, putting your wine glass down— it had been empty for at least ten minutes— and smiling apologetically. “I have a terrible headache, so I think it’s time for me to head out.”

“Oh, sorry to hear that,” she pouts, and you can feel your eyes twitch. “It is pretty late too, so you must be tired.”

“Mhm.” You nod, looking at your phone. 3:46a.m.

“Do you want me to call Jacky?” She asks, expectantly, and the way she says his name makes you want to smash her face against the crumbles of cake sitting on the buffet table.

“No, no, it’s fine, don’t worry,” you play dumb. “It was nice seeing you…”

You forgot her name. It was probably something like Olivia or Madeline, but still. You didn’t remember.

“It was nice seeing you, too!” She says, apparently clueless to your lack of memory— and interest. “I’ll text you later so we can talk more.”

“Sure thing, yeah.” You walk towards Jack with long, careful steps. “Hey, babe.”

His eyes are on you immediately, his hair moving around with his abrupt move. He smiles, stepping out of the little circle the girls had made around him to wrap his arms around you.

“If it isn’t my favorite girl,” he says. “Hi, baby.”

You can feel the girls’ eyes on you, burning your skin like the fictional fairies’ whenever they touch iron. It is a feeling you are used to already, but you feel yourself shivering either way.

“Can we go?” You ask, bluntly ignoring the other women there. “It’s late.”

“Yeah, we can,” he nods, turning his head back to his little girl group before smiling at them. “See ya, ladies.”

See ya, ladies?

“Bye, Jack.”

“You’re the best!”

“See ya next time!”

You can’t hide your pout on your way home— you don’t even try to. You have your arms crossed in front of your chest as you sit in the front seat of Jack’s absurdly expensive car, listening to the quiet hum of his air conditioner and the annoying noise whenever he turns on the turn signal.

“You’re not mad… are you?”

His voice is tentative, almost as if he’s scared of asking the question.

“Are you kidding me? You spent half of that ridiculous party talking to women. Tell me I can’t be mad about that.” You hiss back, not looking at him. You know there are high chances of you folding bad if you do.

“Baby, I already told you, it’s all business,” he says, once again, because he has, indeed, told you that several times before. “I can’t have them saying I’m a rude guy, can I?”

“Sometimes I can’t believe the shit you say,” you scoff. “You literally told a reporter to fuck himself last week, on live. Talk about being a nice guy now, Jack.”

“Come on, you’re not being fair!” He exclaims, and you can hear the pout on his voice. “He talked shit about you. He was lucky I didn’t punch him in the face.”

You rolled your eyes, biting your lips to hide your smile.

Little does Jack know you jumped out of the couch when you saw the transmission and giggled while you sent texts to your best friend about how you would have to be the mother of his children.

You stayed silent, looking at the dark streets, briefly forgetting about your anger to notice how beautiful your city is. There weren't many people in the streets at that hour— it was summer, yes, but it was almost four a.m and it was still Monday, and a lot of people were still working.

When you got to your and Jack’s apartment— a two bedroom penthouse with plenty of space and a kitchen you still fell in love with every time you looked at it— you didn’t waste time before heading to the guest bathroom shower, a clear sign that you didn’t want Jack to join you, which you knew pissed him off.

You were quick even though you weren’t sleepy, washing the soap off your body under the lukewarm water; happy because it was your favorite scent.

You got out of the stall, opening the bathroom door after you wrapped the towel around your body, deciding to change inside your bedroom.

Or at least that’s what you thought you would do.

“Y/n.” Jack calls you, sitting on top of the bed.

“Fuck, Jack,” you grunt. “You scared me.”

“I can’t have you mad at me, baby,” he says, getting up and walking towards you, only stopping when your covered chest is touching his. “You know those women mean nothing.”

“Jack,” you sigh. “We’ve been here before. You can’t just say that every time you flirt with other women.”

“I wasn’t—” he starts, but interrupts himself mid sentence. “You’re making shit up.”

“Am I?” You ask, holding the towel tighter. “You damn well I’m not.”

“Listen,” he says. “I’m not proud with the way I acted but I already told you—”

“It’s all business. I know, you know, we all know.” You roll your eyes, stepping back and moving forward so you can leave the room. His hand finds your waist almost immediately, locking you in place. “Jack—”

“You’re so full of complaints, baby,” he whispers. “Every time we go out you complain about something.”

“I wouldn’t complain if you didn’t give me reasons to.”

He clicks his tongue, running his fingers over your naked arms. You shiver slightly, hoping he doesn’t see it. “You want more?”

“More what?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“More reasons to complain,” he continues, chuckling as he lowers his head and hides it in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply. “Real reasons to complain.”

“Wha—”

“Because I’ll give them to you, if you want to,” he licks your skin, and you can feel yourself start to malfunction. He’s a little shit, you think, as you slowly start to give in. He’s a little shit and I’m in love with him. “Or I can keep your mouth full so you can’t complain anymore.”

He stands up straight again, staring at you while his fingers move to where you were holding your towel.

“What’s your pick, baby?” He whispers, removing your grip from the soft fabric around your body, letting it fall on the floor, like a puddle of water on your feet.

You’re fully naked, and he can’t even pretend he’s not looking— he is. He always is.

Jack kisses you with hungry, tender lips. He holds your neck while he licks your lips with his tongue, hot and messy. He tastes like beer and you hate it, but you cannot get enough.

You wrap your own arms around his neck, holding him so close to you you could feel his heartbeat. Kissing him never got old, and if you were to write down your top ten favorite things about Jack Hughes, his kiss would definitely be number one.

You breathe in his scent, your favorite ever since you met him, and you can feel your legs start to give in, just like the rest of your body. It’s late at night, almost morning, your body can’t keep up with your mind and you want to tell Jack to fuck off.

Yet.

“Come on, baby,” he whispers against your lips, as he guides you to the bed, laying you down with your hips on the edge of it. “Let me give you something to make noise about.”

That’s the only warning you get before he gets his knees on the floor and separates your legs, leaving you open and exposed. You feel his fingers spreading your lips open, and when his tongue finds its way to your clit, all of your previous complaints are gone.

You close your legs around his neck, holding him in place, while he puts on a show for you, his fingers tracing the wetness pouring out of you.

You let out a soft moan, holding his hair with your hands, not bothering to be gentle. His tongue found your clit again, rubbing it in slow, circular motions.

“Jack.”

You trash under him as he flicked your sensitive nub with his mouth, the wet noises making you want to disappear. Jack always seemed pleased to go down on you, but you still aren’t used to this fact about him.

“So sweet, baby,” he murmurs, the vibrations of his words sending shivers down your spine, as he dives in again.

He has you curling your toes and arching your back, moaning his name loud and proud, but still, he doesn’t stop. He slides his arms under your thighs, holding you in place by gripping your waist, hard.

He has you coming in under five minutes— it’s a shame it’s over so soon, but what can you do, really. He looks up at you between your thighs, and the sight alone has you moaning, desperate for something else.

You pull his hair, gently, signaling to him that you wanted him up, closer to you, and so he does. He kisses you again, and you get to taste yourself on his lips, moaning loudly inside his mouth when you feel his dick trapped between his body and yours.

“Jack,” you whisper again, placing both of your hands on his cheeks. “I need you.”

“Yeah. I can see that.” He says, chuckling as he gets off you and removes the rest of his clothes.

He slides inside you with no hesitation or whatsoever, knowing too well that your inside’s have his print all over it. You both moan loudly, louder than you should be moaning at four something in the morning, but you can deal with the complaint letter later.

He holds your legs together, pressing them against your chest, almost folding you in half. He is being rough, something you absolutely want to kill him for, but you let yourself enjoy the roughness for a moment; you can scold him later.

You can feel him deeper now, as your body gets dragged up and down against the mattress, making you want to scream.

“You’re wet,” he says through his teeth and you can tell he’s also giving in. “Y/n, fuck.”

You’re clenching around his length as he strokes your G spot, dragging his dick against your walls, once again making sure you can take everything he gives you.

“Harder.” You hear someone ask, probably yourself, and you also hear his low chuckle. “Not enough.”

“Still complaining?” He asks, but doesn’t give you time to answer. Instead, he removes his right hand from your waist and does the one thing he knows it will have you drooling and begging under him.

He slaps your pussy. The wet, loud sound that fills the room makes you squirm, unconsciously trying to remove yourself from his hold. But he’s stronger, always has been.

“Take it, baby.”

He then slaps you again, and again, and so many times you stop counting. The feeling of his cock throbbing inside you, and his rough slaps against your clit is enough to make you come, leaving you almost lifeless under him.

“Good girl, Y/n,” he says, kissing your lips, briefly. “I’m gonna come, fuck.”

“Inside, please,” you hear yourself mumbling, and you’re not even sure if Jack hears it.

“What was that, baby?” He asks, his thrusts getting sloppy.

“Inside?”

“Fuck,” he curses. “I’m—”

He cums inside you, the familiar feeling making you sigh with bliss. You are both panting, the room smells of sweat, alcohol and sex, and you swear you can see the sun start to rise through the bedroom’s floor to ceiling windows.

You’re just about to tell Jack you want to go to sleep when you feel him start to pull out, which has you protesting, immediately.

“No, I— sleep inside, please?”

His blue eyes are staring down at you, and now, there’s a hint of a smile plastered on his face. He nods once, manhandling you around until you’re under the sheets, with your back glued to his chest, and his length still nestled inside you.

“Well, if you’re still mad at me,” he whispers. “At least we made it to the morning, huh?”

“Shut up,” you whisper back, barely hiding your smile. “If you keep talking, there won’t be any other morning.”

He laughs, kissing the top of your head. “Very well, then.”

𖧷

NHL MASTERLIST. JACK HUGHES MASTERLIST

#jack hughes #jack hughes x y/n #jack hughes x you #jack hughes au #jack hughes fic #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes smut #jack hughes imagine #new jersey devils x you #new jersey devils x reader #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils #jh86

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melosliving · 3 days ago

Note

Can you do a fic where reader and Aaron are married and have been for years. But the public didn’t know about the reader. They thought Aaron was single. But anyways reader makes cooking videos on TikTok and is pregnant with a baby and somehow they put 2 and 2 together and realize they are married. The public is surprised that he has a wife. And now everyone is calling them a cute couple.

Thank you for your request !!! Let me cook and I hope you’ll like it ❤️❤️

aaron pierre x wife!reader

folks discovering y’all are married with a baby on the way …

You’d been craving jollof rice all week, so naturally, you decided to make it and turn the process into a TikTok. Pregnancy cravings weren’t something to play with, and your audience always loved your cooking content anyway.

The video was perfect—vibrant colors, smooth transitions, and a warm, inviting voiceover walking your viewers through each step.

“Once the tomato base has reduced,” your voice explained as the pot of rich red sauce simmered on the screen, “you’ll add the parboiled rice and mix it thoroughly so it soaks up all that flavor—”

But right as you reached the next step, a familiar voice cut in. Deep, smooth, and unmistakably British. “That’s looking good, love. You saving me a plate, yeah?”

You could hear the smile in your voice as you replied, “Aaron, I’m recording.”

“And I’m hungry, girl,” he quipped, unfazed, clearly not realizing his voice had been picked up by the mic.

“I always save a plate for you baby,” you replied softly, with a little laugh, before continuing your voiceover like nothing happened.

At the time, you didn’t think much of it. Just another normal moment with your husband. You edited the video, uploaded it, and figured the focus would stay on the jollof rice. But your followers? They had other priorities.

The comments section was on fire within minutes.

#tiktok!comments

@ user 1 WAIT. Is that Aaron Pierre???

@user 2 Not this deep British voice interrupting mid-recipe… I KNOW THAT’S HIM.

@user 3 She said Aaron like it was casual. GIRL, WE KNOW.

@user 4 Y’all… she’s pregnant, cooking jollof, and married to Aaron Pierre? I’m logging off.

People began dissecting the video like detectives. The way your tone softened when you spoke to him, the casual back-and-forth, the fact that he felt comfortable interrupting at all—it all added up. By the end of the day, his name was trending, and everyone was convinced they’d cracked the case: not only were you married to the Aaron Pierre, but you were also having his baby.

The next morning, Aaron found out before you did. He was sitting on the couch, scrolling through TikTok, grinning like a kid. “Love,” he called out, “you’ve got to see this.”

You shuffled into the room, hand on your growing belly, already suspicious of the look on his face. “What now?”

He handed you his phone, showing an edit someone had made of your video. They’d slowed it down, isolated his voice, and overlaid the words NOT AARON PIERRE INTERRUPTING HER MID-JOLLOF in bold text.

“They’re really out here doing audio forensics,” you said, shaking your head with a laugh. Aaron smirked, leaning back as you sat beside him. “To be fair, they’ve got a point. Who wouldn’t want to know who’s eating that jollof?”

You shot him a playful look. “I was trying to focus on the recipe, and here you are soft-launching yourself as my husband.”

“Soft-launching?” He laughed. “I thought we were past the soft launch when you started wearing your ring in those videos.”

You glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. “I’m blaming you for this one. You couldn’t even let me finish the voiceover before talking about plates.”

“What can I say?” He rested his hand on your belly, his voice dropping to that teasing tone. “It smelled good, and I’ve got to look out for you and baby.”

By the end of the day, the internet had pieced together everything. Fans unearthed old TikToks where Aaron’s voice could be faintly heard in the background, and someone even pulled up an interview clip of him saying, “My wife makes the best jollof rice—and she’s pregnant, so I get even more of it.”

Your comments section was relentless:

@unknown 1. Black love, jollof rice, and a baby? Y’all won.”

@user 5 Imagine carrying Aaron Pierre’s baby AND making him jollof. Sis, you’re living my dream.

@unknown 2 She’s cooking for two, and Aaron’s eating for three. I’m obsessed with this family already.

That night, as you lay curled up on the couch together, scrolling through all the reactions, Aaron leaned down and kissed your temple. “I think they’re excited for us.”

You laughed softly, resting your hand over his on your belly. “I think they’re more excited for you.”

“Nah.” He smiled, looking at you like you were the only thing in the world. “It’s us, love. It’s always us.”

@ melosliving 2025

#aaron pierre #aaron pierre x black reader #mufasa : the lion king #aaron pierre fluff #aaron pierre x reader

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dyingswanpavlova · 3 days ago

Text

@evilmenenjoyer

Hey, I just read this now and I'm sooo grateful!

Thank you for your sweet words and I really appreciate it. I know the reader has quite some backstory on her and I was a little afraid that might throw some people off. So, that's why I find your words very relieving!

And even if we as readers might not share her past (hopefully and fortunately), I'm sure almost everyone has some part of their past they'd rather keep hidden and forgotten. It's super important to me to find a way of catharsis for exactly that, because I just recently learned how important it is to try and overcome your trauma, instead of just suppressing it.

So, thank you so much, you always leave the sweetest and most thoughtful comments!

I'm sending you endless love, dear!

"Your girl" - Part 6 | The Salesman x Reader

Summary: You make a mistake and get punished. You try to hate him, but there's something inside of you, clearly working against you. Stick to the plan. Play along, get his trust, get the hell out.

Warnings: dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, mentions of sexual abuse and other traumatic events in the past, numbness, helplessness, violence, threatening, mentions of blood, mentions of murder and rape, body issues, trauma talk, stockholm syndrome, forced relationship, unhealthy relationship, depression, manipulation, mentions of sexual activities and desires, not beta-read, if I've missed any please tell me! mdni 18+!

"Your girl" - The Salesman x Reader Masterlist

“Where the fuck are you?! Get your ass over here, this instant!”

You froze when his angry voice cut through the silence.

It wasn’t really all too silent. Your thoughts had been keeping you entertained all morning, if you didn’t count the whole night to that as well. Unfortunately, you did. Not a wink of sleep, again.

And all because he didn’t approach you. The door to your room stayed closed, which was something that should have been a good thing in your book. He didn’t bother you, didn’t attack you, didn’t seduce you.

It was more than good, it was heaven-sent. It was a good thing, whenever he granted you a little bit of peace, a tiny ounce of normality.

And yet you found yourself tossing and turning all night, filled with the sinking feeling of...

Disappointment.

Disappointment?

Why on earth would you be disappointed?

Because he didn’t come into your room in the middle of the night with the intention to do unholy things to you and your body?

You should have been thrilled and relieved. But instead you felt empty. So empty, that once you got out of bed and realized he wasn’t anywhere to be found, you made a mistake. A grave one.

You snuck into his room.

It wasn’t like you had any bad intentions. You were actually trying to find him, to talk to him, to ask him-

Ask him what exactly?

However, your main intention was to find him. See him. Instead you found…nothing.

An empty room with an untouched bed. The second you saw that he wasn’t there, you should have turned on your heel and left. But some devilish kind of curiosity forced you to place one foot before the other until you ended up in the middle of his bedroom.

His bedroom.

Not yours.

His.

Nothing about it had been all too uncommon. It was a room with a bed and a wardrobe, a bookshelf, some notebooks. One caught your interest in particular.

A red notebook which you found underneath his pillow. Like a little girl and her diary.

What the hell was even going through your head to touch his pillow?

At first you didn’t want to, you truly didn’t. You just wanted to get a short, small peak into the room of the man who controlled every aspect of your life, even after he had explicitly forbidden it. So far you had obeyed him, but that morning some devil drove you to get inside and take a look around.

And God, how embarrassing was the reason. You were already half on your way out, when his scent caught your attention. The subtle perfume, this gentle note of him.

And that was when your mind went blank and you were so incredibly stupid. You had felt like a stalker, leaning down and pressing your face against his pillow. Inhaling his sweet scent like a lunatic.

But you didn’t really have the time to ask yourself what the hell you were doing, because that was when you found the notebook. And your hands, well, they acted like they weren’t really your own, like they were somehow disconnected from your brain.

They opened it. And what you saw confused you terribly.

On top, your name written in capital letters and crossed out.

And below that countless names. Female names. None of which you knew.

Some were Korean, you could tell. Others French. English. Slavik. Italian. Spanish…

When you heard a faint sound from the hall, assuming he came back from wherever he went, you quickly pushed the notebook back where you found it and scurried out of the room like the devil himself was after you.

Which he, kind of, was.

But he hadn’t been home yet and still, you couldn’t get back into his room. You were far too afraid that he might come back and catch you. So you stayed out of it, went back to your own bedroom and went back to waiting.

And now you were certain. He knew. He knew.

Before you even had the time to get up from the bed, he was already there. The door to your room flew open and he came in like he was indeed the devil.

His eyes were blazing with anger. You hadn’t ever seen him that angry before. Not even that one time, after you called him out on being oh-so unlovable.

And now you were sure.

He was going to kill you.

Your initial reaction would have been to beg and plead, to crawl and butter up, even negotiate.

But no. You could tell the severity of the situation had changed drastically.

So you did the only reasonable thing. You jumped up and hurried to the bathroom. You didn’t even have the time to catch on his reaction, because you were too busy slamming the door shut and locking it.

It seemed to catch him off-guard, because it took him a moment to move, but when he finally did, he pounded against the door like a madman.

You couldn’t tell why you were even able to lock it. Maybe he didn’t think about it when he made his apartment kidnapping-safe. But now you were more than grateful for that circumstance.

“If you don’t open the door right now, I’m going to kill you!”

You slowly backed away against the wall, glancing at the window. You knew it was pointless, but you decided to still try it. Maybe, just maybe, you’d get the mercy of a quick death, jumping from the twenty-third floor.

“I will gut you and then I will kill you!”

He pounded even harder against the door and you were sure it was going to give in soon. All the while the window didn’t move an inch. You started pounding against it as well, desperate to find a way to survive this godforsaken hell, but it just wouldn’t move. You felt tears sting your eyes when you realized it.

There were so many things you hadn’t done yet.

You never sailed on a boat. Never saw Prague in December. Never saw the ballet or swam in the ocean.

Never told anyone you loved them. Never loved anyone. And you never got loved in return.

You didn’t even have sex yet.

It wasn’t fair. It simply wasn’t fair.

But it was your life and maybe this was how it was supposed to end.

Maybe this was how it was going to end.

But you didn’t have more time to think about it, because suddenly there was a loud cracking sound and you witnessed in horror as he broke the door down. Your eyes widened and you stifled a sob, while he stepped into the bathroom. He was breathing heavily and moving slowly, like a predator stalking its prey. The look in his eyes was…murderous.

But the only thing you could truly focus on was the blood on his cheek. How had you missed it earlier? Probably due to the adrenaline. But now you watched intently as you saw the small cut on his cheek, messing up the perfection that was his face.

“Please.” You whispered breathlessly, but it was barely audible under choked sobs and gasps for air. “Please, I…What did I…”

He stormed forward and pushed you against the wall, so hard that your head banged against it with a fervor that made you go dizzy. His fingers wrapped around your neck, squeezing tightly.

“What should I do with you?” He whispered in a low voice. It was less of a whisper and more of a growl.

You opened your mouth to beg some more, but all your words were getting lost under a veil of tears and the symphony of your desperate, breathless sobs.

“Should I cut you open and watch you bleed to death?” He whispered as he squeezed your neck a little tighter. You coughed up and dug your nails into his wrist in a desperate attempt to get some air.

“Should I fuck you to death?” He whispered in the same feigned thoughtfulness, all the while you were ferociously fighting for your life.

“Should I make you-“ He stopped and let go of your neck. You doubled over and desperately gasped for air.

“No.” He whispered and his lips curved up into a twisted smile. “I know now.”

He looked you up and down in a way that made you less uneasy and more terrified, before he spoke in a tone that resembled gentleness.

“I’ll take something from you.”

After you finally regained your ability to breathe and gingerly touched your neck, trying to assess the damage he had done on you, you slowly looked up at him. And again, your whole focus was on the cut on his cheek. Only then you realized the blood on the collar of his shirt.

It wasn’t your fault, you suddenly realized. Not entirely. He had a bad day. And you found yourself aching to ask what had happened. Despite him taking his anger out on you, unfortunately.

But after all, it was you who went into his room, despite the clear instructions not to. Never to.

Silly girl.

“And give something else to you.” He whispered while he reached out and gently ran his fingertips over your neck. The touch made you wince.

When his words made you shake your head in confusion, he smiled slowly.

“Your name, sweet girl. It’s about time you got a new one.”

Oh, and how it hurt. How it hurt not knowing what was worse. Dying? Life hadn’t ever really been your thing, it seemed. You just weren’t good at it. But your name? At least you were someone. And now he was going to take that, too?

A small part of you was relieved. He wouldn’t gut you and hang you from the window. But he’d strip you of the little identity you had left.

Your lip quivered in an attempt to say something, but he just shook his head, the crooked smile still on his lips.

“You just made me break down my goddamned bathroom door and you think you got any right to complain?”

You stared up at him with wide, horrified eyes, your vision blurry with tears.

“That’s why you wrote all the names down.” You whispered in the voice of a timid mouse.

He hummed in response. “I was going to give you a say in choosing one. But that deal is in the past, sweet girl. I have the perfect name for you.”

He leaned in and murmured: "Kneel."

You didn't need to be told twice. You would have done anything, however degrading, if only it meant he wouldn't perform heinous crimes on your body.

You were shaking in silence, only interrupted by a few occasional sobs, as you watched him pick up the pair of scissors from the drawer.

Suddenly you didn't feel so safe anymore.

"Please."

He shot you a look that instantly shut you up. There was no way out and nothing you said or did could save you.

He stalked around you like a tiger, ready to pounce. And when you expected him to land a blow and knock you out, he instead gently played with a strand of your hair. And suddenly you were painfully aware of what was about to happen.

It's better than death, you kept trying to tell yourself. Better than torture, better than not being allowed to pee, better than being paraded around-

You gasped loudly when you felt the sharpness of the scissors press against your jugular.

"I bet you look beautiful when you're bleeding." He whispered.

You squeezed your eyes shut. A part of you wanted to continue begging, but you knew it was pointless. Not when he was like this.

Instead of stabbing and cutting you to death and watch you collapse under a fountain of your own blood, he took your hair into a deadly chokehold between the scissors. You gasped again.

"Hana." He purred. "It's the perfect name."

He tugged on your hair, making your head jerk back.

"Hana is the first girl, here in Korea. One. First. My first girl.”

He ran the scissors up the length of your hair until it nearly reached your shoulders. You held your breath. This was it.

The girl you once were was about to be murdered.

"Hana", he murmured, "makes you a fresh, new thing. With no past and no strings attached. All you are now is my sweet girl. My Hana."

You squeezed your eyes shut so hard that you got a headache when you felt the metal of the scissors scrape against your hair.

"My sweet, darling Hana." He murmured.

And then he murdered you.

You kept trying to tell yourself that you got lucky. He barely even cut anything off, right? At least he didn't cut it to your chin or shoulder length.

At least he didn't kill you.

But he did kill you. The part of you that had been you, a little stubborn, a little defiant, was gone now as well. All that was left was this obedient, sobbing mess.

He had cut off just enough to make it noticeable. It didn't even look horrifying. You knew your hair would grow back.

But would your name ever grow back?

Would your soul ever grow back?

Hana, Hana, my sweet Hana. My first girl.

The second he released you, you found yourself marching back to your room. You didn't even feel the need to run and hide. And what for? What more could he do, how much more would he take?

"I'll cut it off, piece by piece, every time you deceive me, until you look like a Young-hee doll."

You had seen the ugly, little creature in a Korean store before.

You could already picture it. You with your hair cut down to your chin, wearing a yellow shirt and an orange dress. What was left of your hair, bound in pigtails.

You hated pigtails.

"I've been too soft on you, Hana. It's about time you learned how things work around here."

And after you finally managed your death-march to your bed, you collapsed on top of it like a lifeless doll. You couldn't even cry anymore. You were too exhausted after not sleeping all night and then this.

Maybe you would never feel well-rested again.

Maybe you would never smile again.

Did you smile much before all this? No. But at least you did sometimes.

That was all gone now.

Now you were Hana.

And Hana didn't smile.

The day dragged on like that. You didn't even get up to pee when you felt you had to. It was all pointless. Why not torture yourself a little more? Maybe you deserved it. Maybe you deserved it for going in his room, for reading his notes, for deceiving him, for taking his fucking hand after he just threw someone on the train line.

You should have known.

Looking back, you should have known.

Good people don't just go around, breaking other peoples' necks. Only sick psychopaths did.

So what had driven you to take his hand?

Was it his charming, reassuring smile?

Was it the fact that he rescued you from being raped at the train station?

Was it the excitement he promised, the new way of looking at things? The prospect of breaking out. Out of your dead, numb haze.

God, how you longed for a sitcom now.

Sitcoms usually ended in Happy Endings. Unlike you. You just ended.

Hana.

The way the door flew open would have made you wince, was there any fight or any life left in you.

Instead, all you did, was slowly lift your gaze. Your red, puffy eyes meeting his in the dim light of your bedroom.

"Still sulking, are we?" He sounded cheerful. Fucking bastard.

"Come. It's about time you ate something."

You didn't move. Didn't even blink. It wasn't to spite or challenge him. Instead you simply felt you couldn't move. Getting up, eating. Water. Teeth. Shampoo. It all sounded so distant. So useless.

You had felt like this before. More than once.

Every time your mother finished beating you with the belt.

Each time you woke up in your tiny, South Korean apartment and realized there was not much to live for.

It was mostly phases. On other days you got up just fine.

But today was such a phase, far more prominent than it had been in long.

His brows furrowed and he tilted his head to the side. A part of you expected him to chase you to the kitchen with a chainsaw.

"Don't be like that. Don't give me that look."

When you still didn't move or blink, his frown deepened and he slowly moved closer until he was crouched down by your bed.

He reached out and touched your chin.

"Are you going to kill yourself now over some hair?" He mocked.

"It'll grow back." He sighed impatiently. "You know you can't starve yourself anyway. I'll make you eat."

You didn't protest, but you also didn't react.

His frown stayed in place, but eventually he sighed and leaned back.

"Come." He said in a softer tone. "I'm making Hotteok. You're going to like it."

And suddenly, just like that, you sobbed again. Very quietly. You didn't move. But something inside of you was aching so terribly.

You expected him to get angry, furious even.

How dare you complain? You’re my Hana, my first girl. My Hana doesn’t complain. My Hana just takes it.

But instead he resumed the notion of gently caressing your hair.

He would hit you.

Somehow magically make a chainsaw appear.

Instead he whispered. Deadly. Menacing. Scary.

Gentle.

"You're still beautiful."

The first bite was hard. The second one way easier. You only ever realized how famished you were, after you bit into the warm, juicy piece of heaven. It tasted sweet and nutty and buttery.

For a second, you allowed yourself to forget about it.

All you could think about was the heavenly taste of whatever it was he had prepared for you.

And then it came back to you, stealthily at first and then suddenly hitting you like a brick.

Hana.

He watched you while you ate, his eyes unreadable. He leaned back and rested his ankle over his knee, watching you in quiet contemplation.

That didn't stop you from chewing your way through three more Hotteoks.

You had these issues, these unhealthy habits of being unable to eat infront of other people. Your mother had always demanded of you to act like a porcelain doll who didn't eat or use the bathroom.

But the longer you were here, the quieter her voice became.

Until all you could hear was his voice.

Hana. My sweet Hana. My first girl.

Your tiny eating disorder slowly dissolved into nothingness, your neuroses turning into ash and dust.

You ate to survive. You ate because it gave you comfort.

And any kind of comfort was a great distraction from the cruel farce which your life had become.

“You know”, he suddenly said after he took a sip of his tea, “no matter how short your hair is, you would always be beautiful.”

You slowly looked up at him with a frown. Suspicious.

“It’s true.” He hummed. “So deceive me all you want and maybe I can prove to you.”

There it was. No kindness without a jab to follow.

You looked back down at the food on your plate. You weren’t all too hungry anymore and your appetite turned back to what it was before. You slowly reached out and took a sip of your water.

“I’m curious though.” He said calmly. “What made you go inside there, hm? What made you disobey me? Were you looking for something?”

You stiffened. What were you supposed to tell him? Hopefully he wouldn’t mention the notebook. The pillow.

“Underneath my pillow, anyway.”

Fucking shit.

“What? Were you trying to set a trap for me, hm?” His voice stayed as calm as ever, but the look in his eyes only ever got colder.

“No.” You whispered.

He leaned forward, looking at you with an disturbing intent.

“Then what?”

He clenched his jaw tightly and grabbed a knife from the table. It wasn’t big, but enough to kill you. He squeezed the handle tightly in his hand and rammed it down against the table.

Poor wood.

The cold fury in his voice felt almost as unsettling as the scissors had.

No, actually more so.

“I was looking for you.” You said quietly, unable to look at him.

What kind of idiot were you? What were you trying to do, admit to that? But maybe it was better than to have him believe that you went in there with some ill intentions. Like placing a blade under his pillow and hoping that maybe somehow he managed to stab himself by accident.

He narrowed his eyes and leaned even closer. All you could look at was that cut on his skin.

“Looking for me.” He repeated and the disbelief in his voice was obvious.

What the hell was he so furious about? He had been so calm, just a minute ago.

But with him, you could never really tell.

You finally looked back into his eyes and nodded. “I thought you would-“ You immediately stopped yourself.

Oh God.

You thought what? That last night, he’d come in your room and sleep with you? Were you about to just say that out loud?

You took a shuddery breath, trying to come up with some other excuse. But it was too late. He already seemed to grasp your thoughts. And he wasn’t laughing or coming off somewhat amused about it, no, the thought seemed to make him even angrier.

Whatever had happened last night must have been horrible if it turned him into that.

More horrible than what happened to you just earlier that morning? You doubted it, but still, something like concern gnawed at you.

“You thought what?” He said slowly. “That I’d come in your room and fuck you? Is it that?”

You immediately looked down at your hands like you’d been struck. Your face flushed furiously and you suddenly felt the need to throw up.

“Are you that desperate? Are you that needy? I thought you were a fucking virgin.” He practically spat the words out. And you felt more and more nauseous with every word that came out of his mouth.

“I am.” You choked out.

“And still you crave my attention so desperately that you go inside my room, even though I told you you’d get punished if you ever did? Stupid girl. Such a stupid girl. Hana, you should know better than to-“

“That’s not my fucking name!”

You didn’t know if it was the use of that name or the other thing, but something inside you snapped and your depression crumbled down just like that. You could sit here and let him insult you or you could take action and find out what the fuck was going on here.

All the while you tried to ignore the bitter feeling of disappointment and shame that welled up in you, after he tried to shame you for what? Missing him?

You nearly shuddered. Missing him? Him?

You had a mission here.

Play along. Get him to trust you.

Get the hell out of here.

Right? That was the plan. Why did everything feel so…unstable then? Especially your own thoughts. You weren’t supposed to miss him. You were supposed to run. Grab his gun, shoot him and then shoot against the lock of the door until it fell apart.

And maybe then you’d finally find peace.

Instead you sat in silence, as you watched the expression in his eyes change. The bitterness and the man that had stooped down to insult you vanished and the monster who had cut your hair and punched your gut took his place.

“What did you say?”

“I said”, you gritted out in a fit of rage, so intense it left you breathless, “that’s not my fucking name.”

And just like that he snapped. But he didn’t snap like a normal person would, no. He snapped so hard, his head nearly exploded. And he lunged at you. He lunged forward and knocked you off the chair in the heat of the moment. Your head came down onto the floor with a thud, but what was far worse was the pain that shot through your back when it hit the ground.

He was on top of you, straddling you, before you even had the time to cry out in pain. But this time, something was different. You were different.

Before he could wrap his claws around your neck, you pushed him back, with such roughness that it left you surprised by your own strength. And before he had the time to recover and slap the hell out of you, you did something even more surprising. And probably stupid.

You punched him. Right in his face, bruising his unharmed cheek. Your eyes shot wide open, but it was nothing in comparison to his own eyes.

First he looked surprised. Caught in a cloud of disbelief. And then the look changed. And just like that he was back to furious.

Murderous.

He got a hold of your wrists and pinned them down to the ground, ignoring the wince that shot through you and the cry of pain that left your lips, when he dug his nails into your skin.

“Such a stupid girl.” He hissed. “I really thought you learned your lesson. But it seems you didn’t. But don’t worry. You will in time.”

He reached out a hand to slap you, but before he could, you kneed him right in the stomach.

He let out a grunt of pain and momentarily loosened his grip on your wrists. But it took him no longer than two seconds to regain his balance and pin you down even harder.

You writhed underneath him, fighting as hard as you could to free yourself before he got the opportunity to damage your already damaged kidney, but he was on his best way to. He balled a fist and gritted his teeth, ready to make you pay.

“What happened last night?” The question sounded so incredibly ridiculous, coming from your trembling lips, underneath him, fighting for your life. And it was so ridiculous that, indeed, he paused for a moment.

“What?”

“Yes.” You gasped out. “What happened last night? What happened to your face?”

He blinked slowly, his grip on you never wavering.

“You don’t get to ask me questions.”

“Yes, I do! Where were you?”

He had trouble to control his temper, while he gripped your wrists so hard that his knuckles were white and his hands were shaking. He pressed his thumbs against the insides of your wrists so hard that a sharp pain flared through your arms and up to your shoulders.

“I was working. I had work to get done. And you don’t get to ask me questions!” He growled.

“Yes, I do!” You repeated, growing more and more impatient. His grip on you was so painful, that your legs kept kicking into the air, desperate to find some kind of relief from the pain. But it never came. And yet you forced yourself to stay angry. Don’t budge. Don’t beg. “What happened to your fucking face?!”

“Why?! Are you worried about me?!” He hissed and suddenly he was so far up in your face, you felt his breath on it.

“No!” You hissed back, still kicking into the air like a fool. You released something akin to a shriek of frustration, struggling against his grip, but he wasn’t even trying and he was so much stronger than you. “But I know nothing about you! I don’t know what you do! I don’t know what you are! I don’t know who you are! What’s you fucking name?! What is even your name?!” You were out of your mind, yelling furiously and pushing back against him, until he actually had to apply more pressure to keep you pinned against the ground.

“You want to know my name?” He gritted out. “I don’t have a name, silly girl. All you need to worry about is that you belong to me.”

“To a ghost.” You spat out. “Because that’s what you are, isn’t it? You’re nothing but a ghost. You don’t have family or people who care about you. All you have is your job and yourself and this soulless place with no windows to open and let some sunshine in. All you have are these walls covered in sunny colors and yet there is no real sun here. It’s a façade. Everything is a façade. Because you’re nothing but a fucking ghost. You could be dead and no one would care.”

You gritted your teeth like a feral animal, ready to rip his throat out with your teeth if he’d let you, but of course he didn’t. Instead he met your deadly glare with one of his own, except that his was far more menacing than yours, more dangerous. Crazier.

“I may be a ghost, but you still belong to me.”

“What happened to your face?” You whispered in the same, angry tone.

He leaned further down until the tip of his nose nearly touched yours and slammed your hands against the floor.

“Why do you care?” He hissed back.

“What happened to your face?!” You nearly shouted.

“Why do you care?!” He shouted back.

“Because I do!”

It was true, you suddenly realized.

You cared.

Not in a curious way.

Not in a matter-of-fact way.

It was eating away at you. You needed to know what had happened, because you cared, you cared so much, it made your insides twist painfully. Ever since you had seen him that morning, you were in pain.

Not because he cut your hair.

Not because he demanded you to take a stupid name like Hana.

His first girl.

Were there others? Were you truly the first? Why not the last? Why not the goddamn last?

Was that jealousy?

The cut on his cheek made something inside of you ache and you were dying to know who the hell had dared to put his hands on him.

He seemed to have the same thought, because something in his expression changed. But you couldn’t tell what it was. Not yet at least.

“You care.” He spat out incredulously. “Idiot girl. Are you falling in love with me?”

You scoffed. “Not in a million years.”

“Good.” He whispered and leaned closer.

“I could never fall in love with a monster like you.” You whispered back and tilted your head up towards his.

His breath tickled your lips, but not half as much as his gaze did, as it slowly slid down to them.

“Stop.” You whispered, suddenly breathless.

“Tell me that you mean it and I will.” He whispered back. His brows furrowed and he took in a shuddering breath. It sounded like an exhale, it sounded like a moan.

Oh God.

“Stop.” You whispered again.

He stopped tormenting your wrists and you stopped struggling against thin air.

You didn’t know how but somehow his touch was almost gentle.

You didn’t realize when but somehow your legs wrapped around his waist.

“Don’t.” You whispered.

“Don’t…”

“Please…”

“Don’t…”

Oh, fucking hell.

Fuck it.

“Please…don’t…stop…”

______________________________________________

Author's note: I'm dying, you are all too sweet to be true! Thank you so, so, so much for your sweet, kind words and I love you all so incredibly much! Just a few days ago, I had a moment when I was feeling like everything was going pretty shitty, but then I thought about this story and all the kind and loving support I'm getting from you and it cheered me up beyond belief. Much, much love! Lana ❤️

Tag list: @mitsuki-dreamfree @kpopsmutty69 @heroine-chique @vkeyy @mizuwki @blu-brrys @z0mbi345 @yourpointbreak @ayieayee @freddyzeppsworld @lola11111111 @indifitel6661 @salesmanlover08 @laurenbenoit70 @lalalaa2210 @lila-marshal @auspicious-lilana @0-aubrie0 @lovelyaegyo @theredvelvetbitch @violentbluess @muriels-lover @dorayakissu @eviebuggg @muchwita @ririgy @strxlemon @obsessedwthdilfs @kiwilov3 @misty-q @whitefeathers @ennvfv @heartzxx @yourpointbreak @hell0kittt @salesmanlover08 @pascalislove @nina357 @ing9449myu @vamplivivi @tvbais @ilovenana00 @misswannadiesworld @glads-stuff @chunkzdeluluwife @estreiiuh @lokis-lovely-muse @zaimeskuna @lalalaa2210

also thanks to @i-might-be-vanny for the name issue inspiration!

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acid-ixx · 3 days ago

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and that, my friends, is how you write character development in the span of like one sentence...

jk, but it's true though, that despite their hesitance, the reader is slowly but surely, growing balls. as much as i love savage mc's who are capable enough of fully healing; in cases of immense trauma, improving is a rough path. it's full of ups and downs, breakdowns and even returning to past coping mechanisms. it's not a steady journey, just speaking as a child of neglect myself (hence why every instance feels a bit too personal 😭).

there's a lot of poetic one-liners i've written in chapter five. since jason is the first yandere from the batfamily we truly meet for the first time in forever, i want each interaction to be unique from one another. his scene in itself spans more than 10k words alone. there's a lot of hurt/comfort in it— my way if apologizing for the long delay actually.

but! i came across a problem: part two is too long and i'm unable to actually edit it due to length, so i might have to split it again. that's both good news and bad news. good 'cause everyone's getting fed. bad because my phone (and i refuse to use my laptop i get a migraine using it) might just die editing the entire thing.

also, thank you all for replying to this. i've taken everyone's input to heart and it's surprising that my writing honestly impacted so many people.

otherwise, you all better hype this chapter up which will be posted soon (not today, but soon). i crawled out of my grave for this one </3

#🍨... yael's talking #yandere dc #yandere batfam #yandere #platonic yandere #yandere angst #yandere jason todd #yandere batfamily x reader #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfam x neglected reader #neglected reader

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solxamber · 1 day ago

Note

Floyd, Romantic, [Obsessed by Sophie Powers and Ashley Sienna]

Thank you, Sol. I love you and your writing! So much so, that I hav notifications enabled for Tumblr on Do Not Disturb. 💚

that's so flattering omg <3 and I'm probably blowing your notifs up with my yapping oops

"Obsessed" || Floyd Leech

𝐅𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐲 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐭

𝐒𝐨𝐧𝐠: Obsessed by Sophie Powers and Ashley Sienna

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 440

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐬: Suggestive Content, (Implied) FWB to Lovers

Floyd is a walking red flag, a living, breathing warning sign. His moods swing like a wrecking ball, his sharp teeth flash too often, and he looks at people like they’re little toys just waiting to be broken.

And yet, you want him.

It’s ridiculous. You could have anyone. You are the moment, the one everyone knows, the one everyone wants. People look at you and fall over themselves trying to get your attention, but it’s wasted on them, because you only have eyes for Floyd Leech.

And what’s worse? He knows.

You should hate the smug way he grins when he catches you staring. Should be embarrassed when he yanks you into some dark corner, presses his lips to yours, and mumbles against your skin about how funny you are—so obvious, so easy to read.

But you don’t. You live for it. You love the chase, the thrill, the secrecy. The way he gets bored of everything except for you.

And when he kisses you, when his sharp teeth scrape over your lips and he hums like he’s tasting something sweet, you feel like you’re unraveling.

Maybe it’s dangerous. Maybe you should want something safer, something softer.

But you don’t.

You want Floyd.

You want the way he grabs your wrist and tugs you into empty classrooms between lectures. The way he leans against walls, watching you with lazy eyes like he’s already planning the next time he’ll get you alone. The way he pulls you into his lap and drags his teeth over your throat, grinning against your skin when you shiver.

You should be ashamed of how desperate you are for him, but you’re not.

You’re obsessed.

You want more. More of his hands on your skin. More of his lips on yours. More of his time, his attention, his everything.

And Floyd—he’s unpredictable, but even he has limits.

So when you’re tangled up together, limbs loose and breaths even, he hums, pressing his forehead to yours.

“Shrimpy,” he drawls, voice slow and lazy. “You ever gonna be mine for real?”

It takes you a second to process, your heartbeat stuttering in your chest.

You don’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, you push yourself up, cupping his face in your hands, and kiss him like you need him to breathe.

He groans into your mouth, fingers digging into your hips.

You pull away just enough to meet his gaze, to see the flicker of something wild in his eyes before you murmur against his lips, “I already am.”

And when he grins, all teeth and danger, you think you might never get enough of him.

Masterlist ; Valentine's Event

#ˋ°•*⁀➷ valentine's event #twst #twst x reader #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #floyd leech x reader #floyd x reader #floyd #floyd leech

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naturesapphic · 2 days ago

Note

Intersex Billie putting a baby in her girlfriend/wife after she’s been begging her so Billie of course listens and gets the job done😍😵‍💫

Breed Me

G!P!Billie Eilish x fem!reader

Warnings: Billie has a penis, smut, breeding kink, daddy!billie, light face slapping, degradation

A/n: if you don’t like it, don’t read it, thank you <3

“Billie please! F-fuck!” You moan out as Billie pounds into you relentlessly. Your moans were filling up the room, along with Billie’s grunts and whimpers. Billie pushed your legs to your chest so she can get deeper and you felt your toes curl at the sensation.

“Such a pathetic bitch. So desperate for my cock huh?” She spat out ruthlessly, which made your pussy throb. You nodded and Billie gave a light smack to your cheek, giving you a warning. “I-I m-mean y-yes daddy!” You moaned out and Billie gave a light chuckle in response.

“You’re already dumb on my cock, can’t even give me a proper yes or no.” She scolded and you let out a whimper as she suddenly came to abrupt stop. “No no! P-please bill- daddy! Please fuck me! B-breed me!” You whined out and Billie looked at you with dark eyes. You’ve been wanting kids for a while, especially after the two of you had gotten married.

For a while you didn’t think Billie wanted any kids, with her busy schedule and just wanting to spend time with you. You’ve begged Billie for weeks now to put a baby in you but when y’all did the deed, she would always pull out and apologizing after, but it seems tonight it was a different story.

“You want me to put a baby in you?” She asked and you let out a pathetic yes which made her smirk at you. “Okay baby…I’ll give you what you want.” Billie whispered in your ear and she pulled out of you and slowly entered you. She did that a few times before she started to pick up her pace dramatically, which you loved when she did that.

“F-fuck!! D-daddy!” You cried out as you already felt yourself needing to cum. She’s been edging you all night and you needed to cum now. “Already gonna fucking cum, so fucking pathetic.” Billie grunted as she felt herself needing to cum and she was gonna fill you up to the brim. In less than five minutes, the two of you were cumming, moans and whimpers were bouncing off the bedroom walls.

Billie filled you up like you knew she would and that’s what you wanted all along. Billie waited a few minutes before slowly pulling out, making sure not to hurt you in any way. Sure, she’s very dominant but you’re her princess and she doesn’t want you hurting, especially after sex. When billie pulled out, some cum was meaning out of your pussy and Billie smiled, knowing that it was a mix of y’all’s cum together.

She got up and started your aftercare for you, this was one of y’all’s favorite parts of the day and you absolutely adored Billie for being so gentle and caring with you in this time. “Do you need anything else sweetheart?” Billie asked as she finished cleaning you up and giving you some snacks to munch on. You shook your head and made grabby hands towards her which made her laugh.

Billie turned out the lights and went into bed where she pulled you on top of her, making you snuggle your face on her chest. She giggled and held closer than ever and placed kisses on the top of your head, making you smile as you close your eyes, falling asleep on top of your Billie.

A/n: thank you anon for this request! I hope you and everyone else enjoyed! I appreciate yall so much :) Remember to stay hydrated and to rest! Take care of yourselves. I love y’all! :)

#billie eilish blurb #billie eilish fic #billie eilish oneshot #billie eilish x you #billie eilish imagine #billie eilish fluff #billie eilish fanfiction #billie eilish x reader #billie eilish smut #billie eilish #billie eilish x fem!reader #eilish #billieeilish #billie x reader #billie o’connell

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whenthequietbreaks · 1 day ago

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Thank you tbh I kind of wish it had gone more into it I love when fics do there's just so much POTENTIAL there, I do think for Lan Wangji there's a bit of like. God he doesn't even CARE he was so desperate to have him back for so long he'll take anything he can get? Or maybe if you consider him demisexual like a lot of people do there's that too but either way I'm so feral about it it would be so fucked up if that happened

I did make the post about Jiang Cheng cause I feel like posts and fics get more into Wei Ying and Lan Wangji's feelings about it but Jiang Cheng lost everyone and was left with a newborn baby he couldn't even always keep with him and a sect to rebuild and then he gets this one person back but he's just different after?? Anyway many thoughts many thoughts

Do you ever think about how fucked up it would be if your brother died and came back but now he has someone else's face and all the stupid scars from climbing trees and stuff are gone and he used to be just taller than you but now he's like two inches shorter than you and he still talks the same way but in someone else's voice

#mdzs #wei wuxian #jiang cheng #lan wangji #theres one fic i just remembered where wei ying gets his old body back after years and lan wangji has a whole ass like panic attack about it #and another where wei ying like dissociates about having the wrong body and touching his husband with someome elses hands and- anyway yeah #good shit many thoughts and feelings

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lvnleah · 1 day ago

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Would love a AWFC!Teen reader fic where she's Leah's younger sister who has always had to deal with being with Leah's sister, so many expectations on her and people being her friends because of Leah (Leah is still very much an amazing sister, loves her baby sister to bits!)

So when she's around ten ish, she makes the choice to not let anyone know Leah is her sister, goes to games but doesn't sit in the family section and sits with friends who she's never told about her family, maybe even uses her mum's maiden name rather than Williamson etc.

Leah is undoubtedly a bit upset about it because she doesn't want to make her little ones passion dampen just by being her (I hc that Leah would very much see R as her baby because that's what she called her when she was born or something) but her and their family all accept it and do what R wants and needs

Cut to R being brought into the senior time, smashing it in the big leagues and getting along well with all of the senior players who are looking at her like 'she seems familiar and I don't know why...' only to find out she's Leah's little sister when she's injured on the pitch or Leah gets injured and she gets all panicked and doesn't want to leave her side

Cue Beth, Katie, Kim etc. Who have all been there for years like 'Holy shit, you've grown up!!!!' Because they probably would've known her when she was younger since they've known Leah that long

Long winded but hopefully you'll like the idea 😂😂

the other williamson | leah williamson.

thank you for this request! :)

this is one of my favourite fics I’ve written!

You had always been proud to be Leah’s sister, how could you not be? She was England’s captain after all and an Arsenal star but sometimes being nine years younger than Leah came with its struggles.

You were only seven when Leah first broke into the senior team and you were so proud of your sisters that for a while it’s all you talked about. Everyone at school knew about your cool big sister Leah and how she was playing for Arsenal.

At that time, women’s football wasn’t massive so of course you got a bit of stick from a few boys in your class but it wasn’t anything you could handle.

“Arsenal women?” One of them scoffed one day in the playground, “that isn’t a proper team!”

You looked the boy straight in the eye. “They are a proper team! My sister’s going to be the best player in the world, just you watch!”

The boy had rolled his eyes and laughed, but you didn’t care. You’d march off, determined to prove him wrong. Well, Leah would prove him wrong, and you’d be there cheering her on every step of the way.

For a while, being Leah’s sister was the coolest thing in the world. You loved going to games, sitting with your family, wearing a little Arsenal jersey with Williamson on the back.

Leah always made time for you, even when her schedule got busy. She’d let you run around on the pitch after matches, ruffle your hair, and call you “my little bubba,” no matter how much you protested.

But as you got older, things changed.

By the time you were fifteen, Leah was a household name. Women’s football had grown massively, and she was basically the face of it after winning the euros. People started treating you differently, not because of who you were, but because of who your sister was.

At school, kids who’d never spoken to you before suddenly wanted to be your friend. “Can you get me an autograph from Leah?” they’d ask, or, “Do you think she’d come to my party?” Teachers started expecting more from you, too, as if being Leah Williamson’s sister meant you had to be perfect at everything.

At the academy, it was worse. You had been lucky enough to sign for the Arsenal academy when you were twelve but after the euros things changed. Every time you stepped onto the pitch, you could feel the weight of their eyes on you.

Coaches would compare you to Leah, even though you were nothing like her as a player. You didn’t even play in the same position, you were a striker not a defender. Teammates would make comments, sometimes kind, sometimes not.

“She’s only on the team because her sister’s Leah Williamson,” someone whispered once after you scored. “She’s not even good enough for the academy.”

It stung more than you cared to admit.

That was when you made your decision. You didn’t want to be known as Leah’s sister anymore. You wanted to be you. That night after training, you came home and broke down in tears to your mum.

“Bubba, what’s wrong?” Amanda asked you as you stormed into the house, flinging your bag down onto the ground.

You sat down with a huff as more tears started to escape, Jacob gave Amanda a look, “Been like this since I picked her, won’t say what’s wrong though.” Your brother sighed.

“I’m fine,” you muttered, wiping at your face angrily, though the tears kept falling.

Amanda crouched down in front of you, her voice soft. “You’re clearly not fine, Bubba. Come on, tell me what’s going on.”

You glanced up at her, hesitating. Part of you didn’t want to say it. You didn’t want to sound ungrateful for the opportunities you had or for Leah being your sister but the words tumbled out before you could stop them.

“I’m sick of it, Mum,” you said, your voice cracking. “Sick of being just Leah’s sister. Everyone at the academy thinks I’m only there because of Leah. They don’t even see me as my own person, just as ‘Leah’s little sister.’ I can’t do it anymore.”

Amanda’s face softened, and she sat beside you before pulling you into a hug. “Oh, Bubba. I’m so sorry you’re feeling this way.”

Jacob sat down next to you on the couch on the other side, frowning. “That’s not fair. You’re talented in your own right. Anyone who says otherwise is just jealous.”

“But I'm always being compared to Leah, J,” you said, though your voice wavered. “No one believes that I'm good enough. They just think I’m riding on Leah’s name.”

Amanda kissed your temple, “You are good enough. And I understand why this is so hard for you. But what do you want to do about it? How can we help?”

You hesitated, chewing your bottom lip. “I don’t want to be ‘Williamson’ anymore,” you finally said. “I want to use your maiden name, Mum. I want to be a Baker, not Leah’s sister.”

Amanda blinked, taken aback for a moment, but then she nodded slowly. “If that’s what you want, then we’ll support you. Right, Jacob?”

“Of course,” Jacob said, ruffling your hair. “You’re still you, no matter what name’s on the back of your shirt.”

A lump formed in your throat, but you nodded, feeling a small wave of relief.

“What about Leah?” Amanda asked gently. “Have you talked to her about this?”

You froze. You hadn’t thought about how Leah would feel. “I don’t know. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. She’s always been so proud of me, but…”

“But you need to do this for yourself,” Amanda finished for you. “You know she’ll understand.”

You nodded.

Later that evening, when Leah got home from training, you sat down and told her everything. You expected her to be upset or worse, disappointed but instead, she pulled you into a tight hug.

“Bubba,” she murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I had no idea you were feeling like this. I’m so sorry, I’ve made things harder for you.”

“You didn’t,” you said quickly. “It’s not your fault, Le. I’m so proud of you, but I just need to figure out who I am without being ‘your sister.’”

Leah nodded, her hands on your shoulders. “I get it. And I’m proud of you for standing up for yourself. Whatever name you use, you’ll always be my little Bubba, okay?”

You laughed through your tears, hugging her tightly.

That night, you went to bed feeling lighter than you had in months. You were ready to step out of Leah’s shadow and into your own light.

Fast forward a few years, you were now eighteen and transitioning into the senior team. Leah was now twenty-seven and somehow everyone had managed to keep it a secret that you were Leah’s sister.

Majority of the girls that you played with had either left the academy or completely stopped playing football. Your shirt name was now Baker and had been for two years now, your coaches were different too and everyone just thought that Leah was your family friend.

“Excited for your first senior training, bubba?” Leah asked you one December morning as she drove you both to the training ground.

You shrugged, a mixture of emotions, “Bit nervous…” you muttered, “Excited but nervous.”

Arsenal’s senior team had a new coach, Renee Slegers, and she had been to watch the u18s a few times. For some reason, she had seen something in you and wanted you to come train with the senior team and potentially play a few games.

“You’ve got this, Bubba. You wouldn’t be here if you weren’t good enough. Renee knows what she’s doing, and so do you.” Leah told you.

You nodded, trying to let her words sink in. You knew Leah believed in you, she always had, but the pressure of stepping into the senior team felt overwhelming. It wasn’t just about proving yourself, it was about proving you belonged and you were separate from Leah.

When you arrived at the training ground, Leah walked in beside you, her confidence making her look so at ease. Meanwhile, your stomach churned as the nerves threatened to take over. You adjusted your backpack, trying to focus on your breathing.

“Relax, Bakes,” Leah said with a smirk, using the nickname some of your academy teammates had given you after you changed your last name. “They’re going to love you.”

As you entered the changing room, you were immediately greeted by familiar faces, some you hadn’t seen in years. Beth grinned as soon as she spotted you.

“No way! Little Bubba? Is that you?” Beth’s voice was teasing, her eyes wide in mock disbelief.

You groaned internally. So much for keeping the “Bubba” nickname under wraps. “It’s Baker now,” you corrected with a sheepish smile, but your voice was warm. You couldn’t help but laugh a little as Beth pulled you into a quick hug.

“Leah didn’t tell us you’d grown up so much!” Beth teased. “Last time I saw you, you were, what, fifteen?”

“Beth,” Leah interrupted, shooting her a warning look, though she was clearly trying not to laugh.

More players filtered in, all of them reacting with surprise when they realized who you were. Some of them hadn’t seen you since you were a kid, tagging along to games and family events. For others, it was the first time they’d met you.

“Wait, wait, wait,” Katie said, holding up her hands. “So you’re telling me Leah’s been hiding this one from us? You’re playing with us now?”

You felt your cheeks burn as all eyes turned to you, but Leah stepped in, her tone light and teasing. “She wanted to make it on her own. Didn’t want to ride my coattails.”

“Fair play,” Kim said with an approving nod. “Gotta respect that.”

Leah turned to you, her smile soft. “Alright, Bubba, I mean Baker, time to show them why you’re here.”

You gave her a small, grateful smile before heading out to the pitch. As you jogged onto the field with the team, the nervous energy in your chest began to settle. You reminded yourself why you were there. Not as Leah’s sister, but as you.

And as the session began, you could feel yourself falling into the rhythm of the game you loved, the sound of the ball connecting with your boot grounding you. The team was fast, skilled, and ruthless, but you held your own. A well-timed run, a sharp finish past the keeper and it wasn’t long before you felt like you belonged.

At the end of training, Renee pulled you aside, her expression calm but firm. “You did well today. Keep this up, and we’ll see about getting you some minutes in the next match.”

Your heart soared at her words, but you kept your face neutral, nodding. “Thank you, Coach.”

Leah was waiting for you by the car when you finally made it out of the locker room. She raised an eyebrow, clearly trying to gauge how you were feeling.

“Well?” she asked as you climbed in.

You smiled, the weight on your shoulders feeling just a little lighter. “I think I did okay.”

Leah grinned, her pride shining through. “I told you, Bubba. You’ve got this.”

The night of your debut arrived quicker than you expected. Arsenal was playing a league game at Meadow Park against Crystal Palace, and the squad list had you on the bench. You tried to focus during the pre-match warm-ups, but your nerves were all over the place. Leah, as always, noticed.

“Stop overthinking,” she whispered as the two of you jogged back to the dugout after the warm-up. “Just play your game. If you get on, don’t try to do too much. Be you.”

You nodded, though the butterflies in your stomach didn’t ease. The match started, and you watched intently from the bench, studying the pace of the game and trying to picture where you’d fit in.

By halftime, Arsenal was up 1–0, the goal coming from Leah. Renee made a couple of changes early in the second half, but your name wasn’t called. You were beginning to think your debut would have to wait until another day when, in the 70th minute Renee called you.

“Baker, you’re on,” Renee said, her voice firm but encouraging. “Stay calm, yeah? Leah’s out there with you. We’re doing okay, 3-0, so just stay calm, yeah? Try your hardest.”

You nodded, barely able to believe this was actually happening. Leah was standing by the touchline, waiting for you, her hand resting casually on her hip. When you reached her, she nudged you with her elbow, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“Ready for this, Bubba?”

“Don’t call me that,” you hissed, but you couldn’t help the nervous laugh that escaped.

The referee blew the whistle, and you stepped onto the pitch, replacing Beth up top. Leah gave you a quick pat on the back as you ran to your position. “You’ve got this.”

The first few minutes were a blur. The pace of the game was faster than anything you’d experienced before, but you adjusted, remembering Leah’s advice: play your game.

Then, in the 80th minute, the ball came to you. Leah had intercepted a pass in and played a perfect through ball into your path. You took a touch, your heart pounding as you found yourself one-on-one with the keeper.

You steadied yourself, then slotted the ball into the bottom corner with your left foot. For a moment, everything went silent, and then the roar of the fans hit you all at once.

You’d scored on your debut.

Leah was the first to reach you, lifting you off your feet in a tight hug. “That’s my sister!” she shouted, her voice full of pride.

The rest of the team swarmed you, congratulating you with slaps on the back and ruffling your hair. The chant of your name began to ripple through the crowd, and for the first time in a long time, you felt like you belonged, not as Leah’s sister, but as you.

When the final whistle blew, Arsenal had secured a 5–0 victory. Leah pulled you into another hug as you both walked off the pitch.

“Told you you’d smash it,” she said, her grin wide.

You rolled your eyes, but you couldn’t stop smiling. “Thanks, Le.”

That night, as you sat with Leah in the kitchen at home, replaying the match in your head, she looked at you and said softly, “You’re going to have a great career, Bubba. I’m proud of you, you know that?”

For the first time, you didn’t mind the nickname. “Thanks, Le. Means a lot.”

#lvnleah #leah williamson x reader #awfc x teen reader #woso x reader

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bttrflybb · 2 days ago

Text

serendipity ❤︎ variety.

summary: naruto men and some of their favorite little symbols of love you give them.

wc: 1.3k

feat. gaara, yamato, kakashi

a/n: honestly, this whole thing should be classed as a ramble. sorry if it's a bit funky at times ;; just some ideas i wanted to get out hehe

GAARA

gaara loves it when you push his hair up out or his forehead so you can plant a kiss on the kanji carved there. part of him was worried it’d make you uncomfortable- like you’d be put off by the fact that he put it there himself. not once did you show any adverse reaction to the marking, the story, or the meaning. you always accepted gaara. every part of him.

“missed you.” he hummed into the curve of your neck, holding you from behind. he had just gotten home from a drawn-out council meeting. poor boy, dealing with some of those personalities takes so much out of him. “i missed you too, cutiepie.” you always treat him like such a baby. he didn't hate the nickname, it was just so... lovey. sometimes a bit of a shock to hear. he'll admit it grew on him though. he loves whatever you call him- because it's you. “you hungry? ‘s almost done.” you wiggled, trying to escape his grasp so you could stir the veggie medley you had going on the stove. he relented, steps quieting as he disappeared to shed his vest on a rack and reappeared on the other side of the island counter, pulling out a stool to settle into.

you put extra care into making his plate, loading it with some extra meat and rice. not gonna let him get by without some veggies though. you set both your plates on the counter, shuffling around to sit on gaara’s left. he always waits.

you pull the plates towards the two of you and look to gaara with pride. “smells good,” he hums, snaking an arm around your side to pull you into a kiss, “thank you, lovely.” you beam, cupping his cheek to pull him into one too. one on the cheek, and one on the kanji. “thank me by eating your veggies this time.” you tease.

your focus is back on the food before you can notice the blush crawling up his face.

YAMATO

yamato can’t take it when you’ve got your fingers in his hair. he’s like a puppy, in a way. scritches, pets, brushes, all of it has got him instantly relaxing in your arms.

“morning, pretty lady.” you hear your husband rumble. ah, you’d fallen asleep. eyelashes flutter to find him, settling on his smooth, barely clothed figure above you, ruffling his hair with a towel. “mm. how long have you been home?” you murmur, the smell of eucalyptus and mint hitting your nose.

“not long. wanted to shower before i cuddled up to you,” he states, that sultry smooth voice washing over you. he tosses the towel to the side and is quick to get underneath your blanket. observant, this one is. he’s already got all the lights off, doors locked, showered and clean for you. just how you like it. you’re a sensitive sleeper- and a bit of a neat freak, always chewing him out for getting his “outside clothes” in the bed or under a blanket.

“mm. how was today?” you murmured, voice still coated in sleep. you pulled yourself up a tad and spread your legs, coaxing him to lay his head on your chest. “fine, mostly just surveillance.” his voice vibrates into your chest, “kakashi had us swap places though- he hates paperwork. always wants to make me do it.”

you can hear his pout. he hates it too. everyone does. and there is so much of it. “my poor baby,” you purr, pulling him further into an embrace. one hand caresses circles into his back, the other coming to rake through his hair. immediately, he sighs and the process of turning him to mush begins.

“mhmmm.” “yeah? you’re my poor baby?” “mm, sure.” “are you fallin’ asleep already?” “mmmmm… no.” amid your little scalp massage, your nails scratch with just the smallest bit of extra pressure, warranting a tiny cry. “what was that for?” he fusses. “lyin’ to me.” “mm-mm. not sleepin’- just comfortable. missed my wife.” the sudden intimate confession makes your heart skip a beat. “hehe- i missed you too, sweetheart.” your fingers go back to combing through each damp strand, coming down to scritch his sideburns and the nape of his neck. he’s practically purring.

enough time has passed for you to assume he’s knocked out on top of you, and before sleep makes you their next victim- you curl in slightly to leave a kiss on the top of his head, running your thumb over the patch before you lay back down. before you can- hooded inky eyes look up to you expectantly. needy man. another kiss, this time on the forehead. you think you’re cute, teasing him this way. with a huff he’s lifting himself up, hovering over you to give you a short-lived kiss on the lips before he’s setting himself down, this time nestled on your shoulder.

such a pampered man. you don’t mind it. his neediness was something you came so close to losing. with that thought you can’t help but squeeze him closer, resting your cheek on the top of his head.

KAKASHI HATAKE

kakashi loves it when you offer to shave his face for him. when you waddle into the bathroom to brush your teeth, just to be greeted by his foamy face- the way your eyes widen with aggravation is the funniest thing to him.

“why didn’t you ask me?” you pout, setting yourself up on the counter in front of him with a huff. “thought you were gettin’ ready for bed.” he hums smugly, relinquishing the single-blade razor to you as you grip the underside of his chin. “not goin’ to bed without you. ‘s quicker when i do it for you too.” your annoyance quickly fading and being replaced by concentration. so cute, he thinks, watching your brows furrow and lips slightly part while you focus on the left side of his face.

he’s in bliss, letting you tug his jaw, chin, ear, whatever it may be, to get at every angle. getting bitched at and manhandled by your pretty little self while he gets to squeeze at your hips and butt? a dream come true.

he doesn’t want it to end, heart stuttering at the feeling of you shifting beneath his grasp and the sound of the razor getting folded in on itself and set down. ‘nooooo…’ he quietly whines, reaching out for you and making the most pathetic grabby hands. grown ass man, by the way.

“quit fussing,” you giggle a bit- quit, you’re supposed to be mad at him. you grab a small washcloth from the rack of neatly folded towels, turning back to his smug little face watching your every move. so annoying, you roll your eyes. you love his attention.

you beckon him to lean over after wetting the cloth. you wipe his face with warm water so gently- like he’s gonna break underneath your touch. it’s nice. you’re gentle with him. so so gentle. “looks good.” you hum. “always looks good when you do it.” he hums back. “you’ve not even looked.” “don’t gotta. i know you always do good.” so cheeky. you use the hands you have on his face to turn him to the vanity mirror. “see? jus’ like i said. always looks good.”

it really does. kakashi’s looking at himself like he’s the hottest guy he’s ever seen. honestly, he probably is. little twerp. you won’t admit it, but the praise he mumbles while he admires your work is going right to your head.

after you pat the alcohol into his skin and give him a kiss for enduring it like a ‘big, strong man’ you’d coo in the most demeaning tone, you’re finally able to brush your teeth. kakashi is in heaven this entire time, unable to keep his hands off you and definitely unable to keep his eyes off.

the nighttime routine the two of you share is one of the best parts of kakashi’s day. he makes that fact known when he’s sleeping outside during a mission and wailing over the fact that his face feels dirty or dry. bless his teammates. though, it’s less the actual routine and more you being there with him during it all. taking care of him.

before you know it you’re being scooped up in his arms and lightly tossed into the bed. he’s just so full of feelings- feelings for you. others may not have guessed it (they probably have with how much he whines when he's away from you,) but this man is such a sap.

#༊󠀺.headcanons #naruto x reader #gaara x reader #gaara fluff #yamato x reader #yamato tenzo #tenzo x reader #kakashi x reader #kakashi fluff #kakashi hatake fluff #kakashi hatake x reader #naruto headcanons #naruto imagines #gaara imagines #kakashi imagine

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