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saetoru · 9 months

Text

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。the dictionary definition of a rich boy

synopsis. that rich guy who won’t stop asking you out is your partner for this project—send help

contents. pre dating rich boy! gojo, college! au, implications of a zenin being pushy on the first date, satoru being distraught you went on a date lol, pre relationship shenanigans with the cutest loser boy !!

word count. 3.8k (it’s literally all just him being a handful)

notes. thank you niku my most cherished gojo stan for comming this (and giving me the most ridiculous tip) i adore you so much :,) mwah 💋

he’s late—gojo is late. in fact, he’s very late, by forty-five minutes and thirty-two seconds to be exact. you aren’t really the count-by-the-second type of person, but somehow when it comes to that irritating, smug, too-talkative brat that you’re stuck with…well, you can’t help but be petty and use the seconds against him too.

he shows up close to an hour after your agreed time, waltzing in with a grin on his face—and, oh, you should kill him. he has the audacity to send you a wink when he walks over, coming up to your table and pushing his sunglasses down his nose just a bit to look you in the eyes over the lenses.

what kind of person wears sunglasses indoors? surely only the kind that are nothing but trouble.

“aw, you’re here already,” gojo hums, “that excited to see me?”

“you’re late,” you spit.

“am i? i could have sworn—”

“now it’ll get dark by the time we get through what we planned for today,” you glare. he looks enthused, positively delighted by the statement—it’s almost as if you’ve offered him candy.

“well, then i’ll just have to walk you to your apartment,” he offers smoothly.

what a jackass. of course, just as expected, he’s still attempting to worm his way into your personal life (and likely your pants) in the most obnoxious of ways. over your dead body, however, will you ever allow him to know where you live, let alone accompany you on the way. you value your sanity, and having a conversation with gojo satoru longer than you absolutely have to seems like the most efficient way to fry every nerve and brain cell you have left.

“absolutely not,” you grit, “you can call me an uber. you pay.”

“alright,” he nods, “i’ll get an uber for you. but i’ll need your number to make sure you made it home safe. otherwise, what kind of partner would i be?”

typically, any normal pair of partners are meant to exchange numbers for a project—it would be the easiest form of communication, and more importantly, you can spam call if gojo decides not to carry his weight instead of just hoping and praying he checks his socials. but you can’t let him have your number—he’s not trustworthy enough for that. the last thing you need is him bombarding you with texts, or worse: calls, in the middle of work and class. so instead, you strictly inform him that any and all communication will occur via social media.

he pouts at that—it’s a cute pout, you have to admit. it’s slightly dangerous, too, because had you not had the self-control you do, you might have caved. but then he lights up at the prospect of you adding him back on socials.

i’ll get your number one of these days, he says confidently. his confidence is as aggravating as the way he clicks his pen in the middle of class. he still chooses to sit right beside you despite all the free and very available seats the entirety of the lecture hall has.

but no, he insists on sitting right next to you—and you? well, you have to hope you don’t get charged with homicide by the end of every class from the constant clicking he makes you endure. despite all that, gojo is surprisingly smart, which means your project might not be so doomed.

he’s annoyingly smart, actually—he never takes notes, and just when you think the professor has him cornered by asking him a question when he’s seemingly dozing off, he answers immediately with the correct answer.

you hate him.

“absolutely not happening,” you grumble, opening your laptop, “anyway i think we should start with—”

“well, i hate to inform you,” he sighs sadly as if it genuinely pains him to say this, “but i’ve actually deleted all my socials.”

“what?” your eye twitches.

“yeah,” he nods, “it’s a bit of a cleanse if you will. staring at your screen all day and finding value in fake posts is not good for mental health, you know? i’m trying to be more in tune with myself. it’s been a real self-journey.”

before the end of this project, you might either be a college dropout or an inmate at the county jail. you’re not sure, either is equally as possible.

“gojo satoru, i am sick of your games,” you spit, “we both know—”

“and i would hate not being in touch with my partner since it’s a crucial part of this project for us to work together,” he hums, something of a smug look plastered on his aggravatingly gorgeous face, “that thirty percent deduction for ineffective partner communication would be such a shame to get when we’re working so hard already on this, wouldn’t you agree?”

is he threatening you? for your number? with your grade? he is, you realize—and you clench your fist tightly around the phone in your hands as he eyes it with a knowing look on his face. he has you right where he wants you, whether you like it or not.

“you’re an asshole,” you spit.

“i’m a mental health advocate,” he gasps—he has the nerve to act offended, even as he’s so obviously enjoying working you up like this. you wish he’d drop dead immediately. maybe you could take his card from his wallet as his cold body lays lifeless on the table and order yourself a new laptop if he did—that would be ideal.

“i saw you post on your story last night—”

“you didn’t watch it,” he pouts, “i posted a shirtless gym selfie just for you—wait a second, you pay attention to my story, huh?” he cuts himself off with a smirk, wiggling his eyebrows at you, “c’mon, you don’t have to force yourself to skip them. you know you wanna watch them.”

“no, i don’t,” you seethe, “it was just the first one at the top. stop being self-important—”

“anyway,” he drawls, eyeing your phone again. you want to splash your coffee in his face. “i’ll need your number,” he sniffs, “the crushing disappointment of you skipping my story made me realize i’m too focused on getting social media validation, so i’m taking a break. it’s the best thing for me to do in my headspace right now. hope you understand.”

“are you kidding me?” you stare at him. he grins before shaking his head.

“i would never joke about mental health,” he says seriously—it’s not as serious as your desire to slap him, however.

“fine,” you take a long, slow sip of your coffee to calm down, “give me your phone.”

“oh, you’re gonna set your own contact?” he brightens, immediately handing you his phone. it’s brand new—the newest model, in fact. it’s barely been a few days since it dropped. truthfully, you’re not even sure why you’re shocked—of course, he, of all people, would upgrade immediately. “how intimate,” he gushes, “it’s almost like we’re going on a date—”

“do not text me outside of project purposes,” you interrupt, thrusting the phone back into his hands, “got it?”

“you got it,” he grins triumphantly.

—————

like all things he does, gojo finds a roundabout way to keep his word without actually keeping it. it’s his secret talent, you think—finding loopholes through all the technicalities of things.

hey when ur free can u read over my portion? i just finished

btw r u going to that frat party this wknd? u don’t seem the party type haha but u should come

i’ll introduce u to suguru! he’s my best friend he’s super nice u’ll like him

oh and when do u wanna meet this week? promise i’ll be on time this time ;)

you make sure to only respond to the questions regarding your project—just because he technically kept his word and started the conversation centered around the project before getting off topic doesn’t mean you have to indulge him. and the way he types is infuriatingly annoying—who shortens every possible word like that? only him, you think.

okay, maybe you’re just nitpicking now, but every time you see his name pop up on your screen, your mood sours tenfold. you decide to answer as dryly as possible.

k i’ll look. we meet same time as last.

the period at the end should add the perfect touch—you grin to yourself in pride at that one. instantly, bubbles pop up and indicate he’s typing again. your smile very quickly drops.

wow ur a rly dry texter aren’t u?

that’s ok i don’t judge

so how bout the party?

i can be ur escort ;)

it’ll be fun!

from his side of the screen, gojo watches as your contact shows notifications silenced at the bottom. he pouts to himself—no party, then, he thinks.

—————

gojo satoru, the guy who seemingly has everything he could ever want, likes you.

frankly, he’s not really sure why—at first, he finds you mildly amusing, and he thinks it’d be fun to have a short fling with you perhaps. somewhere along the line, however, that changes. he watches you dedicatedly take notes in class, no matter how tired you seem from work the night before. he notices the way you chew on your bottom lip when you’re really focused—it’s actually very cute, he thinks. and he’s entertained by the way you always have some smart little retort waiting on your tongue. you’re not boring—and more than anything, you leave him a little humbled. it’s refreshing, and he kind of likes it, if he’s being completely honest.

he’s never liked anyone before—it’s a weird feeling. at best, he’s had a crush where he could appreciate that someone is generally pleasing to the eye and has a personality that might mesh well with his, but he’s never yearned for someone before.

it just so happens to be his luck that the same person he wants more than anything in the entire world (for the first time ever, too) seems to hate his guts. it also happens to be that the same person he wants more than anything is currently getting asked out by some kid from the zenin family. right in front of him. and you’re saying yes.

why on earth would you say yes to a zenin of all people? don’t you value yourself?

gojo can admit that he’s had his fair share of heart robbing and tear inducing moments—he’s not exactly someone with the best track record for commitment, but at least he doesn’t use people for his own benefit. plus, he does, in fact, actually plan on committing to you. that zenin boy most certainly can’t be any good news if he’s anything like naoya, who gojo has met on a multitude of occasions, and knows very well is a scoundrel of a guy.

“see you at nine?” he hears the zenin (what was his name again?) ask you. you nod, smiling sweetly.

why don’t you smile sweetly at him like that? he buys you coffee every week. sure, he only gets to buy you the coffee because you have no choice but to meet him for the project, but he even offers to get you a slice of cake—you don’t ever accept, though, so he ends up eating both. but you do like coffee, very strong coffee that’s probably not sweet enough for his liking, but you enjoy the coffee he buys you nonetheless, and that has to count for something.

“sure, see you at nine,” you hum.

gojo watches in absolute shock (and abject horror) as you look down shyly. as soon as the zenin boy walks away, he stomps up to you.

“hey, what gives?” he asks petulantly, making your face paint on that irritated look that it always seems to adopt when he’s in the vicinity—how rude.

“what do you mean?” you ask tiredly, “i don’t speak toddler, so please use your words—”

“why’d you say yes to that zenin boy—”

“he has a name. it’s—”

“who cares what his name is? he’s an asshole! he won’t treat you right even if his mother’s life is on the line—”

“oh, and you would?” you raise an eyebrow, glaring at him. how is it his place to tell you who’d treat you right and who wouldn’t? how is it his place to even care?

“i would,” he gasps at the accusation, “you’d date a zenin but not me? how come?”

“because you’re annoying,” you counter like it’s obvious.

okay, now that is technically fair—gojo has heard his fair share of you’re annoying’s from people in his life. in fact, a good amount of them come from his own mother, but he’s also dashingly handsome, very good in bed, has soft hair, is tall and muscular, can buy you whatever you like, and can be smart and funny too if you really don’t care for those kinds of things. he’s the entire package and more. and more importantly, he’s not from the zenin family, and that automatically means you’ll actually be treated with an ounce of respect.

he looks at you incredulously, feelings a little hurt. “that’s not true! name one annoying thing i’ve done—”

“you laughed in the middle of me speaking in class.”

“that wasn’t at you! suguru showed me something funny on his phone—”

“and you took like twenty minutes in line ordering the most sweetest drink on the menu while i was running late—”

“you can’t use that against me, that’s not fair! i’m a paying customer, i should be able to get whatever i want. plus, it’s technically not my fault you were late.”

“you rubbed in the fact that you had a black card.”

“you mentioned it first!”

“you were late to our first meeting for the project.”

“okay, that was an honest mistake! people are allowed to make those, you know—”

“i don’t want to go out with you,” you say frustratedly, “and it’s really annoying when you act like a spoiled brat that can’t handle the word no and keep on insisting, okay? so leave me alone unless it’s to discuss our project—which weighs fifty-five percent of our grade, by the way, so don’t even think about getting lazy.”

he is not lazy, he wants to argue.

but before he can, you roll your eyes and take a step to walk around him, leaving him there to blink in shock. okay, he thinks with a huff, so you’re playing hard to get. that’s no matter, he’s good at the chase anyway.

—————

the date doesn’t seem to have gone well. gojo can tell because your eyes are slightly red and puffy, and you’re extra grouchy today in class. your professor seems to have noticed, too, because instead of calling on you today, she calls on gojo extra as a rare show of mercy.

gojo doesn’t mind—this class is surprisingly easy, and he’s bored half the time anyway. he might as well indulge the uptight professor in an ugly brown pencil skirt and answer her pretentious questions that aren’t as complex as she thinks they are.

“so,” he finally breaks the silence, “how was your date—”

“if you’re looking for a chance to say i told you so, just get it over with, you jerk,” you grumble. he raises his eyebrows in surprise before both hands go up in surrender.

“i wasn’t,” he says genuinely, “you just…uh…you look upset, is all.”

you hesitate for a short second, gauging his sincerity for a moment before sighing and slumping on the desk, cheek resting on your arm. gojo resists the urge to poke the soft flesh—it’ll probably make you mad, and you’re already in a bad mood.

“he was…pushy,” you say quietly, “i don’t really believe in taking things far on the first date. he didn’t like that.” instantly, his fists clench tightly, eyeing you from the side carefully, almost in concern. “nothing happened,” you wave off, “but he did make me feel disgusting,” you mutter.

“yeah, well, he is a zenin,” he points out, “they’re…well, my family’s known them for a while. my mom hates them.”

you look over at him in mild interest, raising an eyebrow. “don’t tell me there’s drama in the rich community,” you gasp, “i thought you all just came as one to sip fancy wine and laugh at the poor together.”

he snorts, throwing you a toothy grin that you think for a moment is kind of cute—but that doesn’t mean he’s any different from the rest of the rich folks. someone of gojo satoru’s caliber has no business mixing with someone of yours—it’s common knowledge. gojo has everything he wants, and if he doesn’t, it’s a simple matter of asking before it’s his. there’s simply no way you can mold into his world to be what he needs you to be, and when the time inevitably comes when he realizes you’re not what he wants, well…you’d like to save yourself the wounded pride and crushed soul while you can.

“sometimes we have fancy appetizers too with the wine,” he jokes, “don’t forget those.”

“oh, my apologies,” you chuckle. gojo likes it when you laugh, he decides. it looks much better than when you’re glum—he thinks seeing your lips quirked in anything other than a smile is a waste of your perfect features, and he can’t have that.

“my mom married my old man in this stupid arranged marriage or something,” he explains casually, like it’s just the norm. you suppose it is—for the rich, at least. you wonder briefly if gojo will have a marriage planned for his future, too, and you wonder if he’s okay with that. surely it’ll be some wealthy and fancy socialite of a girl that fits his family’s standards. someone who’s not you—not that you care anyway, you wouldn’t marry him regardless. “my grandma wanted her to marry the zenin, but she said no. said he treated her like a piece of meat every time they met, so she settled for my dad instead. lucky her, 'cause now i’m her son,” he beams.

settled—something about the way he says it makes you think his parents must not really care for each other as a husband and wife should. it makes you think briefly about what his childhood might’ve been like, not watching his parents happy and in love the way they should be. but still, the way gojo talks about his mother is fond, with a gentle smile on his face as he recalls the things she’s told him. you can’t help but smile a little too.

“i think that makes you the lucky one,” you snort, “you’d still be her son. just that you’d be a zenin.”

he crinkles his nose at the thought, dramatically shivering and making you giggle. “gross,” he gags.

“well, now you have her to thank,” you hum, “your dad would’ve been…whoever the zenin she was supposed to marry is.”

“yeah, well, trust me,” he mumbles, his smile dropping ever so slightly, “my old man’s not that big of an upgrade from a zenin. even my grandfather’s sick of him. imagine being such a douche, your own dad can’t stand you.”

you’re learning more about gojo in one sitting than you ever imagined (or planned) to learn—part of that is because he seems like he’s the type to overshare on the first meet; the other part…well, you have to be honest with yourself, it’s not exactly a bad pastime hearing him talk about himself. gojo is an odd piece of work, and you can’t say you hate learning about the little pieces that come together to make him so weird.

okay, perhaps weird is a bit rude, you think—he’s…unique.

“oh, so you’re the dictionary definition of a rich boy, huh?” you hum, resting your cheek on your hand as you sit up and face him—gojo, for a quick moment, feels his heart stutter when you talk to him like that: with your undivided attention like he’s the only one in the room.

“what makes you say that?”

“daddy issues is like…the first thing in the rich boy starter pack.”

he laughs at that, smooth and almost sweet—it’s a dangerous thing. it’s easy to attract you to him, like a bee to honey, with the way his lips curl like that, showing off his dimples. but the bees can easily turn into maggots—and you don’t want to find yourself as a dead carcass by the end of this.

“i don’t have daddy issues,” he says smoothly, “that old man should sleep with both eyes open. if anything, he has son issues.”

“you’re hands down the oddest person i have ever met,” you mumble.

“what was that? did you say hottest? yeah, i know—”

“shut up, jackass,” you scowl, shoving his shoulder when he leans closer with a bat of his lashes. he laughs, and so do you—and just for one, quick, momentary instance, gojo satoru is not so bad. dangerous and a bad choice maybe, a setup for a big mistake perhaps, something you should stay away from, in fact.

but not so bad.

“how about i show you what it’s like to go on a date with a gojo,” he grins, winking easily. he’s persistent—very persistent, you note. “you might like it a lot more than a zenin.”

“no, thank you,” you hold a hand up, “never going to happen.”

“never say never,” he hums, “you might eat your words.”

—————

“hey, satoru?”

“that’s not my name.”

“that actually is your name,” you say tiredly.

“hmph,” satoru rolls over, dramatically tugging the blankets over his body as he shuffles away from you, “not to you, it’s not.”

you sigh, pursing your lips at his antics. “oh my god. okay—hey, toru?” you correct yourself. and just like that, he turns back around, grinning brightly as he inches closer until his head is resting on your chest.

“yes, baby?” he says sweetly, earning a roll of your eyes as your fingers weave into his hair. it’s soft—you don’t think you ever want to let go.

“it’s way better dating a gojo, by the way,” you murmur, “than a zenin.”

“oh yeah?” he grins smugly, arm draping over your body as he kisses your jaw, “i told you it would be, didn’t i?”

“i haven’t dated other rich families to compare, though,” you tease, “you might get replaced.”

“unlikely,” he chuckles, “no one,” there’s a kiss to your jaw, “will love you,” another kiss to your cheek, “like me.”

finally, there’s a slow, soft kiss to your lips—and when he kisses you like that, you have no choice but to believe him.

satoru sooooo sends multiple texts back to back he just like me for real

#teepods.writings #fics.#rich boy! au #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you

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lovebugism · 16 days

Note

hi bug! Can I request you a ditzy or shy!reader where some girl flirts with Steve in front of her maybe at Family Video? Little angsty because she feels insicure of herself? Thank you🩷

ty for requesting!! — steve doesn't realize he's being flirted with because he's so in love with you (ditzy!fem!r, hurt/comfort, 1.6k)

You color in a scribbled heart with enough vigor to break the pink crayon in your hand.

Steve always hangs your drawings in his locker in the Family Video break room, so you tend to take your art pretty seriously. ‘Cause there’s absolutely nothing humorous about the two stick figures holding hands — each of them vaguely resembling the both of you — that you’re passionately scribbling behind the front counter.

He’d watch you work your magic on a piece of lined scrap paper if he could. He’s too busy tending to a regular now. Mia, he thinks, or maybe Maia. She rents movies every week, but according to the system, she doesn’t watch a single one of them.

“Well, what do you recommend?” she questions with a smirk on her painted lips, leaning her elbows on the counter until her chest juts out.

Steve leans slowly backward and tries not to cough at the overwhelming scent of her fruity perfume. “Uh… I don’t know,” he answers with an unenthusiastic shrug. “I usually just watch whatever.”

The girl squints her dolled-up eyes. “You don’t have a favorite movie?”

Steve ponders the question for a moment. ‘Cause he doesn’t have one, really. All his favorite films are your favorites because he spends the majority of movie nights watching you instead.

So, at a loss of how to answer, he tells her your first choice. “The Star Wars movies are pretty alright.”

“Do you have them here?” she wonders.

Steve nods and points her in the other direction. “Yeah. In the Sci-Fi section.”

“Can you show me?” the girl questions with a hopeful glint in her pale eyes. Everything about her sparkles with mischief, like a predator hunting for prey. Stealthy, like a ninja, Steve would’ve called the approach a couple years ago. Long before he found you.

He’s more into forthright proclamations of love these days — bubblegum pink lipstick stains pressed to his cheek and handmade pictures drawn in crayon.

But, for the sake of Keith totally reaming him for not helping a customer, Steve nods and rounds the front counter. “Uh. Yeah. Sure. Follow me,” he urges halfheartedly, sparing you a forlorn glance as he goes. You’re much too distracted to see it, though.

You’re too distracted to notice most things, really.

That’s why Robin’s angrier than you are about the whole thing. She exhales a big huff and stands across from you, peering over the tower of tapes there. “God, he’s so oblivious,” she groans.

Your hand freezes as you color in Steve’s vest. You glance up at her with wide eyes, heart sinking at the annoyed look on her freckled features. “Huh?”

“Steve. That girl’s been drooling over him for five minutes, and he hasn’t even realized.”

Your brows pinch. “What girl?”

“The one that’s hanging all over him,” Robin answers, nodding her head to the other side of the store. The girl in question lingers at Steve’s side, a little too close to be casual. She hangs on every word he says — which certainly can’t be a whole lot, considering he knows next to nothing about that Star Wars franchise.

“I thought she was just being nice,” you shrug.

“She was flirting with your boyfriend,” Robin corrects in a monotone. “It was disgusting. I’m pretty sure her flirt got all over my pants.”

You look back at the two across the room. Steve tenses when the pretty redhead presses her chest against his arm. For the sake of not making things totally awkward, he forces himself not to shrink away. What had seemed virtually innocuous to you now makes your stomach ache.

“She’s so pretty…” you observe quietly to yourself.

Robin only scoffs. “Yeah. If you’re into girls like that.”

You don’t know exactly what she means, but it makes you lean slightly forward in interest anyway. “Do you think… Do you think Steve’s into girls like that?”

“No,” Robin answers, features twisted like it’s obvious. “He’s into girls like you.”

For the first time ever, you find that slightly hard to believe. Why would Steve ever pick you over someone like her? The way she smiles is pretty. The way she laughs is pretty. Even the way she talks is pretty.

And what do you have? A couple of stupid crayon portraits?

A strange feeling sears your chest when Steve and the pretty girl walk back to the counter. He must’ve told her a joke or something ‘cause she tips back her head to laugh loudly in response. Jealous tears sting your eyes accordingly. You take your art and your box of dull crayons and scurry off to the break room.

“I can help you check out!” Robin offers, suddenly very chipper.

The redhead’s face twists. “Oh. I thought that—”

“Steve’s needed in the breakroom, actually,” Robin tells her when the stranger’s pleading eyes flit to the boy beside her. “I can handle it from here.”

“Wait— What’s in the breakroom?” he wonders obliviously.

“Your girlfriend, dingus.”

Steve blinks once. The sudden lack of your presence makes his chest ache. He stalks off to find you without another word.

The redhead, Mia or Maia or whatever, doesn’t bother to disguise the shock painting her dainty features. “Girlfriend?” she echoes, quiet with disbelief.

Robin nods and takes the tapes from her hands, knowing she’s only renting them ‘cause she thought Steve liked them. The scanner beeps as she rings them up. “Yeah. He’s kinda in love with her, turns out. It’s disgusting.”

The conversation fades the further Steve gets down the hall. He opens the door to the back room with a grating squeak. The rusted hinges screech again in protest when he swings it shut behind him. He finds you slouched over the table, vehemently scribbling with vibrantly colored crayons.

He can’t help but smile at the sight of you. “Whatcha doin’?” he lilts in place of a greeting, sliding back a chair to sit across from you.

“Nothin’…” you mutter distantly.

Steve folds his arms over the tabletop and rests his chin on top of them. It bobs with every word. “Why’d you leave me, huh?”

You shrug with a faint I don’t know type of sound.

“Can I see what you’re drawing, at least?”

He grins and reaches for you without thinking — because you always let him see. Needless to say, when flinch suddenly away from him, it scares him far more than it should. You scramble to cover the paper with your arms like you’re doing something wrong.

“No,” you answer in a mousy voice.

A chuckle spills from Steve’s mouth. “What? Why? You always show me.”

“It’s stupid…”

“It’s not stupid! I love when you draw stuff for me,” the boy insists with a lopsided smile, distantly surprised by your sheepishness. The pretty pink grin slips from his mouth at the crestfallen glint in your eye. He softens without thinking. “What’s wrong? What happened? Did— Did Robin say something?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

You avert your eyes from his prying ones, feeling half-suffocated beneath his honeyed gaze. You start to color again with an absentminded hand, if only to have something else to look at. “You’re just…” you trail off, shifting uncomfortably in your chair. “You’re too pretty.”

He laughs before he means to. “What?”

“You’re pretty, and I don’t like that other people get to look at you,” you confess quietly, coloring in Steve’s hair with the ‘deep golden’ crayon. “It’s not fair— No one else should think you’re as beautiful as I do. I don’t like that.”

Steve props his chin on his palm and hides his grin behind his fingers. He reaches for your busy hand with his free one to get your attention. “Well, you know what?” he starts when your eyes flit up to his. “You’re the only one I want looking at me. So what everyone else thinks doesn’t really matter.”

“It is when they’re drooling all over you,” you answer with a scrunched nose.

Steve can’t help but scoff out a laugh. Those words have Robin Buckley written all over them.

“Last I heard, Rob was giving that girl what for, so… you don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he tells you, both to soothe the misplaced jealousy and to make you smile. He thinks it only half works. “Can I tell you a secret?”

You perk up at that. Steve grins and leans in close like he’s about to confess something serious. His dark eyes twinkle with mischief.

“I’m so stupid in love with you that I forget other girls exist sometimes,” he murmurs in true secret-spilling fashion. “And when they’re… drooling all over me? I don’t even see it. ‘Cause all I’m thinking about is how I have my own girl back home. And that I’d much rather have her drooling on me.”

“…Am I the girl?” you press in a tiny voice, just to be sure.

“Yes, baby, I’m talking about you,” Steve chuckles. “You should know that— You’rethe one drooling on my pillow every morning.”

Your nose scrunches sheepishly. “You’ve said that word too many times… It doesn’t sound real anymore.”

“What’s that called again?”

“Semantic satiation,” you answer without missing a beat.

“Well, now I’m gonna tell you I love you ’til you’re semantically satiated,” the boy teases with a knowing squint in his eyes. “‘Cause I love you.”

“Steve.”

“I love you.”

“Stop,” you say, sterner now, though your gaze still glimmers with something soft. Your eyes follow his form when he rises from the table, shifting the short distance to sit in the chair closest to you. “Steve, stop—”

“I love you,” he repeats, anyway, taking you into his arms and smacking a dramatic kiss to your warm cheek. Between each innocuous peck, he mumbles, “I love you— I love you— I love you—”

Steve doesn’t stop kissing you until he hears you giggling again. The pretty sound brightens the dull breakroom. And all he can think about is what a lucky schmuck he is. To get to kiss you and make you laugh forever.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things #steve harrington #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #stranger things imagine #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington imagine #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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softlyspector · 1 year

Text

Offer

Summary: Din is absolutely sure that you know that he’s courting you. He wants to makes the offer formally anyways.

Pairing: Din Djarin x gn!Reader

Word Count: ~3.9k

Warnings: pining, absolute FOOLS in love, bit of grumpy x sunshine, Din thinking he's being so obvious while not showing a single emotion, self doubt and insecurity (Din), lil angst, probably incorrect lore, fluff, Mando'a (translations at the end)

A/N: This is the prequel to Significant! It's not necessary to read Significant first, though I do, of course, recommend it. You can read them in either order, or one and not the other. I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!

Din examines the blade closely, shifting it one way and then another.

The gleaming metal catches the light of the sun, reflecting back into the visor. He waits for a moment, until the clouds drifting through the sky obscure the rays again and he can more easily see the symbols engraved along the edge of it.

“So?” The man across from him asks. “Obviously it’s no beskar,” he says, eyeing Din when he glances up. “But good enough, I hope?”

“Beskar is not used for weapons,” he says. “Only for protection.” When the man bows his head in acknowledgement, Din slides the necessary credits across the table. “And the sheath?”

The credits are collected in gnarled hands before the smith slides the leather sheath across the table. It’s soft and well oiled. “Pleasure doing business with you, Mando,” he says, sitting back in his chair as Din stands. “I hope your, ah, partner, enjoys it.”

Din glances down at the blade and then back at the man. “It will be sufficient.”

He hopes so, at least.

The man is correct that it isn’t beskar, and so not as good of a gift as he could have hoped. But you are precariously and curiously weapon deficient for a person who’d spent years traveling the galaxy alone before joining him on the Crest.

Probably because you’re disarmingly charming. You can talk your way out of practically anything.

Din sticks the blade into its holster and then tucks it against his back, the cloak falling forward to conceal it. “Thank you.”

“Good luck,” his contact says, leaning back in his chair and folding his hands against his stomach.

The sun emerges from behind the clouds again as he searches the market for you and the child. It’s not a particularly dangerous planet, but you have a knack for trouble, not that you don’t also have a particular way of wriggling out of it.

He sighs when he rounds a corner and finds you chatting with two people at a stall selling food. You’re focused on the woman in front of you, actively listening even as your hand sneaks food to the little green hand that pops out of the woven bag at your hip every few seconds.

Din approaches and stops a few paces away, leaning against the corner of a wall and folding his hands in front of him to wait until you’re done.

He’s content enough to indulge you in this, to wait until you’re done chatting. Though, as he’s come to realize recently, he’s content to indulge you in most things. He sometimes feels guilty that you’re often trapped with only him and the child in the Crest for days on end when you so clearly enjoy talking with people. You’re outgoing and talkative to his stoic and reserved.

Your eyes flick to him, the grin on your face tugging a bit wider before you glance back to the people next to you. Though he would have waited there for you all day if that was what you required, he’ll be glad to have you back by his side.

As Din watches you say your goodbyes to your temporary friends, that word flits through his mind again.

Riduur.

Dangerous, hope laden.

He tramps the thought down as he always does, buries the possessive twinge that the word works through his heart.

You wave and turn away to approach him, your hand pushing back the blanket you’d layered over the top of the bag on your hip. To keep the sun off the baby, and keep prying eyes away from him.

Long green ears poke up above the rim of the bag, suspicious chewing sounds echoing from within.

“Find what you need?” You ask as Grogu finally pokes his head out, cooing up at him. Din settles a hand on the kid’s head for a moment before nodding at you.

You tip your head to the side. “Well, I think we’re all done. The baby might be hungry-,”

Grogu burps then, before he makes a sound that Din supposes must be a giggle. “I saw you feeding him,” he shares.

You huff, “Well, he’s always hungry. Besides, that was just a snack.”

Din doesn’t respond. A smile tugs at his mouth as you pass another neon blue cracker down to the little waiting hand from the sleeve of them inside the shopping bag on your shoulder. He waits until the cracker has been taken from your fingers before subtly offering his arm to you as you begin your trek back to the ship.

As always, a peel of anxiety settles in the pit of his gut as he waits for you to take it. And, as always, you take it without hesitation.

Your hand settles firm and warm in the crook of his elbow. You tighten your grip and lean into him and he’s left to wonder if it's conscious on your part, if you might be as drawn to him as he is to you.

Either way, your weight is comfortable against him, your hand warm. The scent of you drifts up to him, your soap mixed with market scents, ash from cookfires, sun warmed leather, the breath of this humid world’s sweet air.

There’s a curious hope that’s beginning to take shape in his chest. One that feels wrong almost, in its intensity.

This is not something he could have ever hoped for, should have ever hoped for.

And yet -

First, the kid.

Then you, tempering his initial meeting with Peli on Tatooine, protecting the child in his stead. He remembers Peli’s assurance when you accepted his offer to travel with him, of your penchant for job hopping. Never stays anywhere more than a couple months, had been her exact words, only been here a couple weeks. He had been assured that you’d be off on another adventure, with another person, on another world, within weeks.

And, at the time, he hadn’t needed anything more than that. Temporary help.

But years have passed, and you’re still by his side.

Or, rather, he’s still by your side. If you decided to suddenly remove yourself from the Crest, he’s not sure what he’d do. He’s not sure how they’d fill the hole you would leave behind.

You wouldn’t though. You are a part of the tiny clan he calls home.

It’s unthinkable, the prospect, the notion, of you leaving him, them.

What he intends to do next, then, is harder.

Offering you the blade is only the first step of many. It’s an overdue one. He should have presented you with a weapon of your own long ago. He should have given you a courting gift long ago. Before he kissed you, shared a bed with you, let your fingers trace over the planes of his face, even if your eyes remained firmly shut.

“So what did you need so urgently to pick up?” You ask as you emerge from the market and take a turn out of the center of the small town, still feeding pieces of the crackers to the child with your free hand.

The world is a lush one, verdant with green undergrowth and prone to bouts of driving rain and humidity. The sun is still working its way through the sky as you cross out of the village and into the surrounding forest.

“I never said it was urgent,” Din replies dryly, steadying you when you nearly trip over an exposed root.

You smile and squeeze his elbow in thanks. “And that did not answer my question.”

Din doesn’t answer immediately, instead watching the curve of your cheek, the way the sunlight catches in the feathering of your lashes.

Din is always glad of the helmet. It provides safety. It lets him uphold his creed. But he’s none more grateful for it than recently. It allows him to watch you without fear of being caught, with the knowledge that you can’t see the way you make him blush and smile.

“No,” he agrees.

You roll your eyes at him, nudging your shoulder into his. “Cryptic,” you hum, your voice amused.

When the ship comes into view, you release his arm and pull ahead of him. He automatically lowers the ship's ramp with the vambrace. You disappear inside the ship where he can hear you cooing to the child, banging around the hull as you settle in again and sort out whatever purchases you had made.

It’s an oddly domestic moment, considering everything about your circumstances together. He has no doubt you’re indulging Grogu in something else.

The dagger he means to give you weighs heavily against his spine, along with the pressure of the task he needs to complete, the offer he needs to make to you, officially.

His relationship with you is a strange one. It’s one that seems to have started at the end and gone backwards, one that circles itself and eats its own tail.

There are times he can’t imagine you not knowing that he intends you as his, and that he hopes that you feel the same. Like when he lies with you in the dark, helmet discarded somewhere near his feet, your careful hands tracing features you’ve never once asked to see.

Seeing your face with his naked eyes for the first time, your features for the first time not distorted by the visor, had nearly upended everything inside him. How trustingly you’d tipped your head into his hands, waiting patiently for him to tell you what to do, or make a move.

He could tell you felt no urge to open your eyes, no urge to take something from him he could never give you, not without making serious and lasting vows.

Riduurok. Marriage. More literally: a love bond.

Din longs to tell you to open your eyes in those moments, to let you see him as clearly as he sees you. Without any barriers.

He shouldn’t have been able to see you like that, shouldn’t have been able to kiss you, shouldn’t have been able to touch you, sleep with you in his arms.

He’s been lax, bending rules to the point of near breaking.

Which is both dishonorable and unfair to you. You’re worth more than broken rules and fumblings in the dark.

Still, he has to do something properly. And this is the thing he will do correctly, as is your right. As is his duty to you.

It’s what you deserve. A proper offer, proper courting. Not whatever he’s been playing at so far.

You are not Mandalorian, and you should also be afforded the chance to learn of his culture. To make a complete decision about him. Though he’s been teaching you some Mando’a phrases, you should see it all. Traditions and language and myths. To understand what you would be a part of.

You and Grogu both, if he’s honest with himself.

All he can do is lie everything at your feet and hope that he’s not found wanting.

Something seizes in his heart, because you could reject it. You could easily reject the formality of it, tell him it had never been that serious to begin with.

Din follows you into the Crest to find you patiently listening to the unintelligible chatter of the child. Wide brown eyes shift from you to him, tiny arms lifting. You smile and laugh, fidgeting with Grogu’s collar as Din shifts to lift him into his arms.

He should give you the blade now, make promises to prove himself to you as an ally and partner, as worthy of you, capable of protecting you and the clan. But you’re already turning away, chattering about a bolt of cloth you’d seen in the market that you want to go back for before you have to leave the planet.

“You should eat,” you remind him lightly, like he would forget if you didn’t tell him. Which, he supposes, is sometimes true. He forgets there’s more than ration packs to eat. “I’m going to shower.” You point to your bag, “Food for you.”

“Yes,” he agrees. Then hastily says, “Wait.” He steps forward and snags your wrist in his hand before you can go any further.

He shifts Grogu to the cradle of his other arm, nerves running up the inside of his skin. Cold sweat prickles at the back of his neck.

You turn and lift a questioning brow. Whatever he meant to say sticks in his throat and he can’t find the words to say what he needs to.

A smile plays around your lips. “You okay?”

His hand is still on your wrist and he hastily releases you. “Yes.”

“Okay,” you laugh. “So, what is it?”

Din swallows, unsure if he’s going about this the right way. He knows what he should do, but he’d never seen it done before. There were few couples among the covert, and there had been periods without any couples at all.

He’s never had to do it before, never had to declare himself quite like this. “Nothing, cyare. It can wait.”

You tilt your head. He can tell you’re amused.

Instead of teasing him, you lean forward and tug at the lip of his helm. “Cyare,” you coo back at him before releasing him and turning into the fresher.

There’s heat in his cheeks when the door slides closed.

“Mesh’la,” he hears you sing to yourself from within.

“It’s not really the same, is it?”

Din is only pretending to look at the stars that are scattered in the darkened sky above the Razor Crest. The faintest rays of sunlight can still be seen on the horizon. The sun never quite sets on this world, perpetually lit with just the barest brushes of light. Purple spills into midnight blue, the sun a smear of tangerine and honey.

He’s watching you from the corner of his eye. You’re lounging in the co-pilot’s chair, one hand braced on Grogu’s floating pod.

“You can’t see the stars properly with that light,” you grouse. “I always miss sleeping in hyperspace anyway.”

Din still doesn’t answer, watching the line of your throat, the shape of your curled legs, the shine of your eyes in the relative darkness. It's an imitation of the routine you have in hyperspace, watching the stars until you fall asleep, or until you’re ready to go to bed.

Your gaze shifts from the sky to him, your eyes abruptly meeting his. “Are you alright?” When he just tilts his head at you, you roll your eyes. “You’re quieter than usual. Which means you’ve been very, very silent all day. Since we got back from the market.”

“I enjoy listening to you,” he hedges.

“Is that so? What was I just talking about?”

“The stars,” he answers easily, not really entirely sure that’s true.

Your gaze narrows. “An easy guess.”

He chuckles lowly. “Then you should have picked a more difficult question, cyare.”

Your mouth pulls up into a smile. “So, what’s wrong?”

The worry that’s been gnawing a slow hole through his stomach all day beats back to life. It clenches his lungs in a tight fist that doesn’t compute.

Of all the things to give him pause. Of all the things to frighten him.

It had to be this.

This thing he has no experience of, no knowledge of, no one that he could have watched when he was younger to at least imitate.

His mind slides past the covert, all the way back to his mother and father. He remembers the gentle moments between them, the easy love, even in hard times, that should have lasted for decades.

That's how he feels with you. Like everything is easy.

Din swallows the image down, courage returning to him.

“Cyar’ika,” he answers, turning to face you directly. “I have something I’d like to give you.”

You perk up at that, straightening in your seat. “Oh? Is that what you were being mysterious about earlier?”

You’re smiling, the words a joke.

Din just nods, too nervous to attempt teasing you back, though it doesn’t show. He’s as still and silent as he always is. Instead he holds out a hand.

You readily stand, placing yourself between his legs, your fingers still on his.

He stares up at you, admiring the way those last dregs of light you complained of wash your skin in a low orange and pink haze. He must look at you for too long, because you suddenly jut out an impatient hip and fist your free hand on your waist, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Despite himself, he huffs out a laugh.

Din takes a steadying breath and reaches behind himself for the sheathed weapon at his back from beneath his cloak.

When he presents it to you, there isn’t a single word he can think to say. All those crashing thoughts of proving himself, of making vows to you someday and everyday in between, falls away, and he’s left adrift with nothing but the blade in his gloved hand.

He really isn’t even sure if he should say something. He’s not sure if it's normally done.

He looks from your face, down to the knife and back again.

A small frown has embedded itself on your face. You release his hand and reach out for it with both. Din hands it over carefully, watching you closely.

You pull the blade from the sheath slowly, eyes roving over the dark metal, the polished handle. You align your fingers over the grip before your lips part softly, brow scrunching. Din opens his mouth, but you shake your head, peering at the lettering along the side of the blade.

The language and script is foreign to you, he knows, etched in Mando’a.

“It’s beautiful, but I can’t accept this.” His heart plummets, the air around him seeming thicker than before, hard to breathe. It all seems like a terrible miscalculation all of a sudden. His fear had been that you might reject it, but a much worse worry swims to the front of his mind.

You could leave. If it offends you.

“Din, this must have cost so much - you have so many weapons I can borrow. I’m not a fighter. I don’t even carry-,” you break off and shake your head again. “It’s too much.”

Some of the tension in his chest releases.

Din covers your hand, stopping the motion of you sliding the dagger back into the leather. His shoulders loosen by a fraction more, his heart not galloping quite so hard. “Please accept this.” A note of desperation slips into his voice, which he makes no effort to clear away.

“I’m not a fighter, Din,” you repeat as your mouth pulls into a small smile. “It’s too much. It’s better with you, really.”

He frowns at you, tilting his head. “That is not the point, cyare.” Din cups his hand around yours and guides it to the grip of the knife. “The point is that it’s yours. That I am offering it to you.”

There are other things he should say to you, other promises he should make, he knows that, but he can’t bring himself to speak them. “It is yours,” he repeats. “As you are owed”

You tilt your head and consider the blade again, pulling it slowly from the holster. “Owed,” you echo, a thread of confusion still laced in your voice, a question mark perched on the tip of your tongue. “But it is beautiful,” you say again, more confidently this time, turning it in your grip.

He relaxes a little more when you seem to understand its meaning.

“But the cost-,”

He almost scoffs. He’s offering you his heart and you are worried about the cost.

“It’s nothing. The smith owed me a favor,” Din says, watching as the smile on your face grows into something genuine.

Unlike yourself, almost shyly, you ask, “It’s really mine?”

He gives a simple nod of his head. “You’re proficient with knives,” he attempts to explain his choice. In a perfect world, he would have gifted you something cast from beskar. A piece of armor. But, the world wouldn’t be perfect then, you would be a very different person if you were one to wear armor as he does.

“I had a good teacher,” you tease. “Thank you. You…didn’t have to go through all this though.” You peer at him from beneath your lashes.

Din doesn’t answer, a smile easing onto his own face. He feels lighter, now. “What is this?” You point to the letters engraved on the blade. “I’ve never seen this script before.”

“Take a guess, cyare.”

You blink at him. “It’s not Mando’a is it?” You ask excitedly.

“It is.”

“Well,” you say impatiently, lifting the metal closer to your face. “What does it say?”

He huffs a small laugh at your demanding tone.

“Kar'taylir darasuum,” he says, taking your hand to lower the blade a fraction, pointing to each word as he speaks it. “To hold in the heart.”

To hold in the heart forever, he should say. He should tell you that its literal equivalent in Basic is essentially to love.

He doesn’t, his coward’s heart in this thing alone rising up again.

You blink at him, a strange expression pulling over your features before you seem to shake the thought away.

“Say it again,” you request.

He repeats the words slowly, and you sound them out after him. You smile widely when he says, “Your accent is good.”

“Thank you, Din,” you say, finally sliding the blade back into its sheath. His eyes flash up to yours when you press your free hand to the slide of his helmet. He doesn't blink, can't even draw a breath as you tilt his head up and bring your forehead to his in a gentle tap.

You rest like that for a moment, eyes fluttering closed, before you abruptly pull away.

He's done so much with you, seen more of you than he should have, but nothing rivals that moment, the kiss of your forehead to his.

“We should probably take the little one to bed, don’t you think?” You straighten and drop your hand. “I won’t sleep up here tonight,” you point to the sun.

Din stands, presses a hand to your back. He’s more than happy to follow you down into the dark hull. Once the baby is settled and you’re pressed together, he removes his helmet and kisses you, first your closed eyelids, a thank you for something he isn’t sure he deserves.

He wonders for just a moment, when you grin against his mouth, if you understand what just happened.

But he pushes the thought away.

There’s no way such a gift could be interpreted any other way.

This is the beginning of him doing something right. He’ll teach you more Mando’a, he’ll share the myths held sacred by his people, he’ll remove his armor before you.

He would lie all at your feet and hope that it might be enough.

One day, he might actually be able to call you what he has trouble reminding himself you aren’t already.

Riduur.

You’re molded to him in the dark, and the promise is more than enough for now.

There's no way you don't know what it all means.

Thank you for reading! Please let me know your thoughts!

Translations:

Riduur - spouse, partner, wife, husband

Cyare - beloved

Cyar'ika - darling, sweetheart

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x you #significant verse

4K notes · View notes

privitivium · 2 months

Note

Oblivious Male reader being in a marriage with a yandere who is so much bigger than him but is a slut for him behind closed doors(ofcourse since reader is oblivious to everything Yan!Husband has to always be the one to initiate sex). One day male reader just went out to buy something from the convenience store and when walking back encountered a woman trying to flirt with him but ofcourse M reader just thought that she was just asking for directions, but he is kinda weirded out cause why does she have to touch his chest if she just needed directions? After that interaction M reader continued to walk back home and once he arrived he was welcomed by ofcourse his yandere husband(and his tiddies on readers face 😺), he then started to talk about the things he bought from the convenience store and also telling Yan!Husband about the woman he encountered earlier on the way home that asked for directions and telling him how she was weirdly touching his chest, as soon as reader said that yan!Husband's smile twitched and sweetly asked "honey, Did you get her name?" Then reader saying no and saying that he didnt ask since she was just a stranger after all and going to his room to change. Meanwhile Yan!Husband is fuming and is sure that he will be torturing someone later when ofcourse his dear M reader is asleep. :)

-💌

(hey! Sorry if it's too long :(. Anyways how are you? ^^)

so lovely. i'm doing pretty alright - overwhelmed but that is nothing new!! I love this,,,....... thank you 💌

yandere husband x oblivious husband reader!!!

he loved you. he loves you-! correction, he was utterly fucking obsessed with you. your doting husband... so kind and sweet to you, so much bigger than you were!! so tall your face only comes up to his pecs that he often smothers you in, snickering devilishly as he hugs your face into him - and no one would ever suspect him being such a fucking whore behind closed doors, that's rightㅡ! begging for your seed in the bedroom,,, panting like a dog as he rides you,,, so eager for you to fill him up, so happily parting his lips to catch remnants of your seed - whining,,, you love your husband. and he,,, loving how unmindful - heedless you were. he doesnt quite mind having to be the one to initiate sex, as he likes flustering you before you confidently take the reins as he so begs,,,

yet, it was a little embarrassing to hear your husband beg for your cum,,, but you abide by his wishes without complaint. you could never complain about him-!! he was everything you've ever wanted in a lover... he was so affectionate, caring, thoughtful... god how could you not be so utterly in love with him as he was with you??!! i mean - it's obvious who loves the other more... threatening to do anything it takes just to keep you happy...

you would never suspect him ever harming others for your own benefit, right? you would never know how absolutely fucking jealous he was, right??? he figures noㅡno, you would never quite figure it out - being a little heedless to flirtation and seducing strangers... good thing he's always by your side, darling husband...

her shoulder nearly brushed against yours - she was talking about something, uhm... you couldn't really understand her, her voice was low and whispery - on purpose??? and she was gesturing her hand around... touching on your shoulder - fingertips gliding to your chest, smiling so widely with a slight blush in her cheeksㅡoh!

ㅡ"to the store? by yourself???" he was apprehensive, but relents with a gentle huff seeing how excited you were to do something for him,,, you're just so cute. so eager to please him as he pleases you so in the bedroom,,,...

bidding you goodbye with a sloppy kiss on your lips, mwah-! you were rather ecstatic, shopping for your husband with a lil note with all the groceries you were tasked to get... it was a rather quick trip - humming to yourself as you cross the surprisingly not busy intersection to get home - and at a stoplight, where a woman was waiting for the light to change. A STRANGER! your husband told you he didnt like you talking to strangers, so you try to do as he wants - to not interact. except she was... coming closer. obnoxiously close.

ㅡ"oh, sorry, are you asking for directions?" you pause, assessing the woman - her eyes half lidded and her lips almost pouty. "hnn.. the directions to your place?" she tries, grinning widely - uagh, whats she doing? being all weird and touching you - "yeah, so-" you're taking a guess - she looks like she enjoys colorful places afterall, due to her rather colorful outfit... "you gotta go down the street there if you wanna get down to the main street. it's got a great selection of clothing shops." you continue, nonchalantly, while nodding toward the other street. "great food, too." short, straight to the point..

ㅡshe seemed to take the hint, a hint you didnt even know you ere giving - and she nods, bidding you goodbye - and walks opposite of you... hn. Strange Encounter... not one to dwell on such meaningless things, you continue home when the light turns, carrying your bags of groceries happily and finally making it to your home which you shared with your beloved, who opened the door when you ere barely making it up the walkway-!

"awh, thank goodness..." his husband greets you lovingly at the door as you near; looking relieved as he pulls you into a fond embrace - knowingly burying your face in his pecs. "i was getting worried about you!!" he cries out, burying his face into your head, inhaling your scent and relaxing with solace noe that you were home in his arms at last!

"oh, i'm sorry..." your voice muffled as you were buried in your husbands rather voluptuous chest he liked for you to fondle in bed - he parts, still keeping a grip on you to let you continue;; "yes, it took longer than anticipated, i'm sorry." you reached up - a soft mwah leaving your lips after you kiss his husbands' flushed cheek affectionately - bags crinkling in handㅡ"it's alright, my sweet. you know how i get..." he hums, pulling you in and closing the door behind you; petting you - how he gets... all jealous and concerned like a total fucking mama bear?? you had no idea. before you visibly brightened - leaning up and kissing him firmly beforeㅡ

"ah - look what i got you-!" so happily pushing past him and into the kitchen - setting the groceries on the counter before digging in one specific bag - a gift of food! pulling it out so excitedly and offering it to him - his face burning with bashfulness as he gently plucks the sweet treat from your hands;; looking thoughtful and flustered,,, and leaning over to gently kiss your neck before you continuedㅡaccidentally stepping out of the way of his kiss,,,

he leans over - getting his kiss, planting one affectionately on the nape of your neck before pulling away; "did anything interesting happen while you were at the store, honey?" he questions inquisitively, beginning to help unpack the couple other bags you brought -

"i also got your favorite uh- creamer, i noticed you needed more," listing off various other groceries you had gotten - before remembering-! "ah, and also, some woman after i left came up to me asking for directions?" you narrow your eyes, trying to remember as you turn to your husband - "she was really close and started touching my chest, but then she left after i gave her directions. it was a bit weirdㅡ"

ㅡhuh? a woman - touching your chest?????

"oh,, really?" he hummed, jaw tensing - touching your chest? his chest??? - appearing delighted at your adventure, fuming at hearing what this bitch did to his darling husband... this is why he should accompany you everywhere...!! despite his jealousy... he decides to let you go off to the supermarket by yourself - and look what happens. that's alright, he doesn't blame you... you are quite the catch, and he's so happy that he has you all to himself. he just wishes other people knew that by taking a look at your left hand ‐ those bitches!! ㅡ "did you happen to get her name, hun?" he questions delicately, brushing his fingertips underneath your eye softly, looking attentive as he studies your facial features.

you hum in denial, blinking at him - thoroughly enjoying his gentle, fleeting touch tracing your cheek, "eh, no... i didn't askㅡ" furrowing your eyebrows in mild confusion - should you have? it didn't seem like the conversation was going anywhere to friendship... "no, no you shouldnt have..." he coos sweetly, humming in agreement and reaching over;; pecking him on the lips, molding them together before sauntering away towards your bedroom whilst loosening your collar - husband, fuming in place and wondering how to hack the camera feed of the downtown streets to find that stupid fucking bitch putting her hands on his manㅡ

#* ( 💌 ) !!!#yandere husband #x male reader #male reader #yandere x male reader #yandere male x reader #yandere m x m reader

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eightyonekilograms · 1 year

Text

I turned off reblogs on this post because it was about to breach containment in a way that looked unpleasant, but I did want to provide one bit of followup for those of you fortunate enough to not be following Twitter drama. You'll want to follow this bit though, because it's really funny.

The second bit is, as Matt says, that because a lot of leading figures in tech have gotten so annoyed at their treatment in the press recently, they've conjured up this theory about how journalists attach tons of status and self-worth to their blue check marks. And Matt is saying, no, this really isn't true at all: the fact that journalists all get blue checks by default is more of an implementation quirk of Twitter and nobody really cares. I have no reason to doubt him on this. So what's sort of funny is that apparently Elon got caught up in the same hatejerk as the rest of tech, and thought that "bluechecks" really did put tons of value on their verified status and could be extorted out of money for it. Which is probably a mistake, and one that's going to cost him literally billions.

At the time I thought this might have been a little uncharitable, but it turns out it was completely correct and, if anything, did not go far enough.

Today was the day that "legacy" blue check marks got turned off, and so now only the people paying Twitter $8/month get to have one. And this is absolutely hilarious, because now suddenly the blue check mark is a strong signal that you support Elon Musk and his Twitter machinations. So it went from being something which was free and had maybe slightly positive "eh, sure, I'll take it" valence, to something which (for most former bluechecks anyway) has strongly negative associations and costs money to boot. So they are, overwhelmingly, declining to pay. In fact, Twitter can't even give them away: LeBron James said he wouldn't pay for a check, Elon offered to give him one for free, and James refused, because the association is now so toxic. ell, em, ay, oh.

And this is absolutely infuriating the Elon fan crowd, because they never understood the indented paragraph above, and really did think that people valued the status of their blue check mark, instead of it being a "eh, whatever" thing that was barely worth it when it was free and certainly isn't worth $100/year. So you're getting deranged takes like this:

You can find thousands of these I'm-not-owned corncob posts, along with even more posts in the replies of people going "no thanks", cajoling and begging them to buy a blue check.

Sociologically, it is frickin' fascinating that this symbol just overnight had a complete valence inversion (and also that, despite this flip, the word "bluecheck" still refers to somebody just as insufferable as it did before).

#cetero twitter delenda est #but it seems like at long last deletur est

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alastorss · 2 months

Note

Hi!!! I'm currently absolutely DYING of sickness, and i was wondering if i could request smth with alastor with a sick reader since im stuck in bed til further notice and very sad lolsies anyways, i hope you have a good day!!<3

a/n: hii my love!! i hope you have a speedy recovery and feel better soon <3333

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

Had he known you would have turned out so miserable, Alastor would have just given you his damn jacket whether you liked it or not.

Instead he's stuck babysitting; watching your fever, making sure you're drinking enough water; even keeping the time between your medications.

He had, of course, offered you his coat after he saw you coming out of the club with Angel Dust with clothes not suited for the chilly night. And you, stubborn as ever, refused it saying it would be too embarrassing to risk ending up in the newsletter.

"Imagine the headlines! You know Vox is always watching!" You had argued when he held out his coat for you to take. He could only smile indignantly at you.

Thinking back, he probably should have used a more authoritative tone. Then again, he would rather claw his eyes out than give you the idea that he cares about you.

He has no time to regret his decisions anymore, now busy with making sure you don't get worse with what little medicine there is in Hell.

"Your congestion sounds just terrible, my dear!"

You scowl at him from your place. "Gee, thanks."

"You really should take better care of yourself. Parading around in such thin clothes all night? You were bound to get sick eventually!"

"Like I need you telling me what to do," you grumble.

"I am just saying," he shrugs. "I do hate to see you so unwell."

You perk up a little, curiously looking at him as he perches on the end of the bed. "You do?"

He bites the inside of his cheek at the little glimmer in your eyes. You're not in the right headspace at the moment. It would be wrong to think you're looking at him so hopefully for any real reason.

"Don't push it," he laughs, scooting closer to you on the bed to feel your forehead.

You owlishly blink at him while he gauges your temperature with a little jazz tune in his throat. "What's your verdict, doctor?"

He grins down at you, a warmth behind it. "Bedrest would do you some good."

You frown, fluffing the blanket and diving beneath it. "Easier said than done when it's so damn cold."

Alastor regards you for a moment, watching you shiver. No, he really shouldn't let such a sight tug at his heartstrings. But his hands are moving faster than he can think, and his coat is slipping off his shoulders before he knows what he's doing.

You get engulfed by his coat, already warm from his body.

"You should get some rest," he tells you, voice missing its usual cheer. Gathering his staff, he gets ready to leave you be.

"Wait, Alastor!" The demon raises a brow at you as you hug his jacket around you, smiling all the while. He feels disgustingly warm and fuzzy inside at how content you seem.

This is correct, he thinks. His jacket slung over you—this is how it should have been all this time.

"Thank you."

He reaches down to tug at the collar, pulling it tight around you. "Just recover quickly so I can stop babysitting," he mumbles with a growing smile.

taglist: @the-lake-is-calling @dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice @averylonelysea @bri22222 @cxrsedwxrlds @amarokofficial @anae-naea-zacheria @for-hearthand-home @fantasy-is-best @angixyc @th3-st4r-gur1 @i-am-nonbinary-bean-deal-with-it (send an ask to be added!)

#🍓 faye's thoughts <3 #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor #hazbin alastor #hazbin x reader #alastor fanfic #alastor fanfiction #alastor fic #alastor headcanons #alastor hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor x you #hazbin hotel fanfiction #hazbin #hazbin hotel headcanons

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gimmeurtmi · 1 year

Text

no nut november — seungmin (loser #7)

pairing: kim seungmin x fem!reader

tags: no nut november mini series, established long term relationship, domestic bliss, ot8 inclusive, smut!!!🔞

warnings: swearing, matching nicknames, bants, breeding kink!!!, talk about babies/having babies, talk about getting pregnant theoretically, mention of birth control and condoms obvs, mention/use of toys, overstimulation, reference to cum as “dirty”, it gets sickingly sweet at some point in the middle, unprotected sex, kink discussion/negotiation

inspo: let’s just say this is self indulgent.

notes: in my defence i have none. also this is the last nnn from me and it’s been the most fun thing to write! i’m so happy so many of you have been enjoying it and i can’t wait to read the last one!!! mwah!

banner by @sluttywonwoo

{ wc: 5623 }

“So we can’t have sex for a month and then I can take you to that AirBnB your sister recommended,” Seungmin explained. He usually talked about weird things after spending an afternoon with the boys—but this might be a new record.

“I thought you were gonna take me there anyway for New Year’s?” You tilted your head to the side. Seungmin wasn’t one to forget plans you two made.

“I was, I mean—I am,” he corrected quickly, “this way I get to take you twice.”

“You could take me twice without having to play this stupid game,” you offered. He nodded, biting on his lip as he blinked at you—his bangs moving into his eyes.

“You don’t wanna do it? Because I’ll tell them they can go f—“

“—no, I wanna play,” you all but pouted, “if anything it would be funny. I don’t think any of them have dealt with as many tours as us. We’re practically pros at months without sex.”

Seungmin frowned his eyebrows at you, a look between disgust and concern painting his face. However, you weren’t wrong.

You’ve been together for more than two years, the longest in your group of friends and you’ve dealt with a lot of time apart from each other. At first it was hard, and then it got easier, and then it got hard again. But after going through more than three months without seeing your boyfriend in person (twice) you really didn’t even consider one month without sex so big of a challenge. When you explained all that to him, he laughed.

“Yeah, I said to them it can’t be that hard.”

“Well some of them are in their honeymoon phase still, they’re probably going at it like bunnies.”

“Speaking of,” Seungmin said, his face growing serious, “if we lose to Minho I will kill someone.”

“Okay,” you patted his shoulder, “we won’t lose, pups.”

“I don’t care if we do! But just not to him,” he emphasised.

“I’ll remind you of that if you’re ever close to breaking, then,” you nodded dutifully.

“Thanks, bubs,” he said softly, kissing you before he finally pressed play on your nightly Netflix marathon.

One by one Seungmin reported the boys losing. First it was Jisung (which surprised absolutely no one) and then it was Jeongin (which made you sigh in relief that he finally spoke up about his feelings) and then it was Hyunjin.

Just like that, almost two weeks have passed.

You weren’t counting. You only knew it was two weeks because Seungmin came over to help you with the groceries.

You lived alone—or rather, Seungmin lived with you when he was tired of the boys and then went back to them when you were tired of him—and so you didn’t need much in your house. You hadn’t had the chance to do any shopping this week since you mainly ate at work with how busy it was getting closer to the end of the year, and Seungmin finally decided to drag you out when he saw the two week old cartoon of milk still in your fridge.

“I’ll clean the fridge,” he offered since he knew you hated doing it, “and you make the list.”

He pulled the stool in front of the fridge and plopped down, already getting rid of the expired products

“Anything else, boss?” You rolled your eyes at him, but squeezed his shoulder in appreciation nonetheless.

He looked up at you, pursing his lips forward as he scrunched his eyes closed.

You leaned down to kiss him, exaggerating the noises as you rubbed his cheek.

“You’re very cute, pups,” you smiled at him.

“And you’re a slob, bubs,” he countered, showing you the very unappealing looking fruit you left in the drawer.

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you brushed him off, sitting on the ground next to him as he worked.

You looked at his concentrated face carefully, taking a moment to appreciate the simplicity you got to enjoy with your boyfriend.

“Stop eye-fucking me,” he said simply.

“I was not doing that! I was just enjoying the domesticness,” you argued.

“That is not a word,” he countered without looking away from his task.

“It’s a feeling though,” you shrugged.

He looked over at you, his judgemental eyes staring you down for only a moment before they softened. “So you were having happy thoughts?”

“Is that allowed?”

“Of course it’s allowed,” he giggled, “I just thought you’d start getting horny soon.”

“And why’s that?” You challenged raising your eyebrows.

“Well, it’s usually two weeks after I leave that you start calling me all desperate,” he explains his logic. You chuckle.

“I’m sorry, what?”

“Oh, baby,” he starts, fingers raised towards his ear in the shape of a phone as his voice raises up to mimic yours, “I miss you so much, I’m so needy, please Minnie,”

“First of all,” you point at him, “I do not sound like that. And second, do I really need to remind you of the time you sexted me from the airplane to America?”

“That was a different situation,” he shrugged.

“How is me missing you after two weeks worse than you getting on the Mile High club by yourself after like four hours apart?”

“I wasn’t by myself, you were with me,” he explained as he closed the fridge.

“I was on the phone,” you counter.

“You were there in spirit. You’re always with me when I touch my dick.”

You blinked at him. “Uh, aww?”

He giggled, finally standing up and offering his hands to you. “Come on, let’s go.”

Walking through the grocery store was a familiar routine with Seungmin. He’d roll the trolley down the aisles as you’d gather the items around, keeping a slow leisurely pace so you wouldn’t have to rush around him. Occasionally he’d roll by something he wanted and grab at it, easily plopping it into the rest of the pile.

You were glad it was getting cold again, because that meant Seungmin wore one of his many oversized hoodies—grabbing the products between his sweater paws.

More than once you had to halt his stroll just to kiss his lips softly.

“You are getting horny,” he commented after the third time.

“I’m not,” you chuckled at him, “you just look very very cute like this.”

“With a hoodie that’s covered in the smell of your old mouldy food?”

You rolled your eyes.

“Can you never just take a compliment?”

“Can you never just take the loss? You got horny first, admit it,”

“I don’t remember that being part of the bet,” you raise your eyebrows at him.

“It was implied,” he shrugged, pushing the trolley down to the cereal aisle.

You decided to seal the bickering with a small slap on his shoulder, to which he naturally replied with sticking his tongue out to you.

When you stopped next to him to place the cereal in the trolley, he kissed your cheek.

“What else?”

“Shampoo,” you directed him towards the toiletry aisle.

There was a new brand on the shelf, and the bottle looked fancy, so you stood for a few minutes as you debated the now new option with your boyfriend.

He tried to explain to you that all of these were the same anyway, they just smell different, but that was of no interest to you. You had to pick the best shampoo.

Seungmin retired from the debate, using his time to try and catch a new Pokémon on his phone.

He rarely played it, and he wasn’t at all invested in the game like his friends were, but you were taking your time and he didn’t want to be too impatient.

When you finally decided to stick to the brand you always used, Seungmin got back to his slow stroll, absentmindedly grabbing a pack of condoms and throwing it in the pile.

“Why?” You chuckled at him.

“Because we’re out,” he deadpanned.

“And the bet?” You squint your eyes at him.

“Oh, shit,” Seungmin chuckles, “sorry, that was an instinct. We don’t need these.”

He picked up the small red pack, carefully placing it back on the shelf.

“I don’t understand why we need them anyway,” you start casually. It was something you thought about recently, when Seungmin stopped everything you were doing because he couldn’t find any condoms in the dorm. He later blamed Felix for that—but you were honestly just thankful for the early night on that particular occasion.

Still, you felt you’ve been together for a long enough time for that to not matter to him as much as it did.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean it’s not like we sleep with other people so I don’t understand why you insist on them so much,” you shrug.

“So, what, I should just get you pregnant then?” He scoffs at you.

You roll your eyes, approaching him with a sigh. You know he knows you take birth control—he’s the one who insisted on having an alarm on his phone too to make sure you don’t forget a day. He knows about your habit of turning off alarms instead of snoozing them.

You also know he knows you didn’t start taking the pills for your sex life but rather to make your periods more regular—but you still thought it might ease his strict view on condoms.

Still, he gave you the perfect opportunity to tease him and so you seize it, in the form of grabbing the front of his hoodie and pouting at him.

“Seungmin, please,” you mock the voice he used before by your fridge, “please put a baby inside me.”

His eyes gap.

“Dumbass,” you push at his shoulders. “You can’t. I’m on birth control and you’re the one who makes sure I never miss one.”

Seungmin remains completely still.

“You’re supposed to be the smart one,” you ruffle his hair before turning your back to him, making your way down the aisle to look for any beauty products on offer.

Once you leave his vicinity, Seungmin lets out a big breath.

He looks down at his crotch, thankful he wore black jeans today as he could feel himself growing harder and harder the more he repeated your words in his head.

You’ve never said anything like that to him before and the more he thought about it, the more he imagined you saying that while he was fucking you and not in front of a million bottles of shampoo. Then he realised he was leaking in his boxers.

When you ran back to him with a happy skip in your step, showing him the lipstick that was half price he simply smiled at you, nodding wordlessly.

As you cuddled up to him when the pair of you got into bed that night—Seungmin still couldn’t get your voice out of his head. He knew himself well and as much as he wanted to blame his body’s reaction on the fact that he simply didn’t cum for two weeks he knew that wasn’t true. It had nothing to do with that and everything to do with the thought of getting to cum inside you.

He never even considered it before—always going by the very important rule that sex should always involve protection, even if it was with the girl he knew he was going to eventually marry. And even when you told him about your birth control he didn’t consider not using condoms anymore an option. It would be dirty that way, and birth control wasn’t a guarantee, and if anything that just meant that you were using one more method of protection.

But now—his mind didn’t care how dirty it was. All he wanted was to feel you raw.

He wanted to make you beg for his cum, he wanted to make you say that again, tell him to put a baby inside you. Then he wanted to push you more, fuck you so many times your pussy was too full of his cum that he could barely keep his dick inside you.

He was fully hard now.

He groaned silently to himself, willing his brain to stop thinking about this and focus on literally anything else.

At least you were already sleeping—or else you’d be teasing him endlessly about being the one to actually get horny first.

Changbin. Chan. Felix.

“And Minho?” You asked, almost hopefully after Seungmin recalled the traumatic evening of Felix losing.

“No way,” Seungmin clicked his tongue, “that menace is strong.”

You knew from Minho’s girlfriend that they were definitely not having sex—but with barely a week left you wanted him to just break already so Seungmin would go back to normal.

Just like you didn’t expect Felix to last as long as he did, you didn’t expect Seungmin to not even help you cum.

Changbin’s now girlfriend was practically gloating when she retold the story to you at the last game night. All about how “giving” Changbin was before he officially lost.

You also heard from Han’s girlfriend.

It was the only time you hated how close you girls were—having to hear from each one of them how great they were all doing in that department. But it was okay. They’ll all see the Instagram posts from your romantic retreat and that would be your victory.

Still, whenever you asked Seungmin if he could at least touch you he stopped kissing you—saying he knew he wouldn’t control himself if he did that. At first you tried teasing him about it, but it stopped being fun when he simply said no and wouldn’t even tease you back.

There was only one occasion in which he indulged you, sometime before Chan lost, when he walked in on you taking care of the problem by yourself.

“I bought you that dildo for when I’m away, not when I’m in the next room practising,” he tried scolding you, but it wasn’t at all intimidating when his eyes didn’t leave your pussy once.

“Pups, I’m sorry but I’m desperate,” you whined, getting increasingly annoyed at the interruption.

“What about us being in it together? If I can’t cum you shouldn’t be allowed to either,” he tried.

You scoffed.

“You need me,” he added, realising his first argument did not take.

“The only thing I need you for is to make a baby. Other than that I can do everything by myself,” you smiled innocently.

You expected Seungmin to say a variety of things, knowing him so well you practically predicted his retorts before he said them. But you did not expect him to growl at you before he rushed onto the bed, grabbing your chin and kissing you until you couldn’t breath.

At one point he grabbed the dildo from you and fucked you with it until you came more times than you could count.

He made no smug remarks afterwards, just took care of you and then he went for a very long walk.

After that, Seungmin spent most nights at the dorm.

November 30th

You wrapped your arms around your boyfriend as he entered your apartment, bringing the cold air in with him.

“Pups, your face is freezing!” You yelped, before bringing your hands onto his cheeks to warm him up.

Seungmin showed his gratitude by trying to lick your hands.

You kicked his leg lightly before you ushered him inside, sitting him down on the couch.

“Order what you want,” you told him, handing over your phone as you brought your blanket out into the living room.

You didn’t even need to verbalise Seungmin was staying over tonight. You both knew as soon as the clock hit midnight (five hours to go) he would take you for as long and as hard as he could—just like he did whenever he’d come back home after a long time apart.

So until then you’d watch a movie, and maybe talk a bit, and maybe kiss until it was time.

“Done,” he said as the food order was confirmed.

“Oh! I’ll be right back!” You clapped enthusiastically, retreating to your room to grab the very important item still in your possession.

Seungmin squinted his eyes at you when he noticed you were hiding something behind your back—while failing to hide the grin on your face.

When you sat down beside him, grin unstoppable, you eagerly handed him the laminated coupon you saved for this very moment.

One Seungmin Serenade - to be redeemed monthly (T&Cs apply)

Said T&Cs were written on the back in Seungmin’s handwriting, such as “bubs cannot record them” and “don’t ask the same song twice” and “i’m not learning a new song for you” and “if you ask for one after redeeming this then you get no serenades at all don’t test me” and “one (1) additional coupon available on your birthday because i’m nice and unfortunately i love you”.

Seungmin groaned when he saw the ticket, grabbing it from your hands quickly.

“I was really hoping you forgot about it this month,”

“No, I was saving it for this very day,” you grinned.

“I hate that you laminated it,” he shook his head, “you’re a dork.”

“Perhaps,” you shrugged, “but you’re contractually obliged to sing for this dork.”

“You don’t look like PD nim to me,” he raised his eyebrows at you.

“Pups,” you said, as seriously as you could master, “this was your idea.”

“I thought it was stupid enough for you to not agree,” he defended.

“Then you underestimated just how far I’ll go to hear you sing.”

“Let me introduce you to an amazing app,” he said, pulling his phone out and tapping around it, “its called Spotify and if you search Stray K—“

“Kim Seungmin!”

His mouth gapped lightly.

“Not my legal name,” he muttered as he turned the coupon around in his hand.

“As the girlfriend I shouldn’t even have to use your dorky coupon idea and you should sing me to sleep every night—“

“—doesn’t work that way—“

“—you did that when we started dating,” you protested.

“Yeah,” he smirked, “to get in your pants. And after that worked I no longer need to do it every night.”

You slapped his chest, laughing as you said, “do you wanna go another full month, Kim Seungmin?”

“Why are you full naming me?”

“Honour my coupon!” You shoved at his shoulders, biting back your smile as Seungmin’s own smile took over his face.

“Okay, okay,” he grabbed your hands, stopping you from shaking him any longer, “pick your song.”

“Ghost,” you smirked.

“Ahh,” he pointed his finger at you, smirking right back, “you picked that in August so you can’t pick it again.”

“But I have this,” you raised your eyebrows for a moment, revealing one more coupon.

Free Pass - allows bubs to break a rule

“You can’t just make your own free pass!” He scoffed.

“Turn it over,” you all but wink.

Free Pass - allows pups to ask for anything

“Anything?” He blinked at you. “Like, sexual or..?”

“It can be sexual, if I’m comfortable with it,” you nod.

“No, yeah, of course.” Seungmin stared at the card, chuckling lightly when he sees the heart above the i.

“I can use it tonight?” You nod. “Okay. Then Ghost.”

Seungmin opens his phone, finding a karaoke video of the song. You place your head on his lap, like it always is when he sings to you, and close your eyes.

His voice surrounds you, his fingers in your hair, his stomach moving against your head as he takes in deep breathes before the higher notes.

When the song is over and the silence takes over the room again you lift your head up from his lap, wordlessly climbing into it as you wrap your arms around him.

His voice always makes you emotional, especially when he sings only for you, so he’s used to the Koala like hold you have on him once he’s done singing.

He simply rubs your back, indulging in the feeling of you so close as you calm down.

He isn’t used to what you say next.

“Pups?”

“Mhm?”

“When we have a baby will you sing them to sleep every night?”

He coughs. “Not every night. I’m not a wind up monkey.”

Good cover, he thinks to himself, but it’s taking every muscle in his body to calm his heart from how fast it’s beating.

“I’ll give you a baby and you can’t sing the poor thing to sleep?”

Focus.

“I think I need to give you a baby first,” he chuckled, swallowing as soon as the words leave his mouth. Wrong this to say, he knows, because now his dick is very interested in the conversation.

You notice instantly.

“Sorry, am I too close?” You offer, lifting one of your legs up to climb off his lap. Seungmin stops you quickly.

“No, no, it’s fine.”

“There’s only a few hours left, pups,” you smile, kissing his jaw softly.

“We’ll eat and then watch whatever you want and then officially win this bet,” he smiles back, rubbing his thumbs against your hips, “sounds good, bubs?”

You nod.

“Then we can start working on that baby you won’t sing for,” you roll your eyes dramatically—just in case your boyfriend doesn’t get that you’re joking.

“W-what?” Seungmin swallows, his mouth completely dry now and he doesn’t think it’s from the singing.

“I was joking,” you say quickly. “I’m still on birth control.”

“Yes, I know you’re on birth control, Y/N,” he shakes his head.

“Not my legal name,” you mock him.

He squeezes your hips as he looks down between your bodies, trying his hardest not to roll you against him.

“Can we, uh, I wanna,” he huffs, “let me tell you what I wanna use my pass for now just in case you’re not comfortable with it.”

“Okay,” you let the subject change slide.

Until you realise it’s not a subject change at all.

“Since when do you have a breeding kink?” You ask him once he tells you what it is he wants.

“It’s not a breeding kink,” he shakes his head at you.

“Pups, you want me to beg you for a baby while having sex. That is literally the definition.”

“I don’t want a baby now, I just wanna fuck you raw,” he tried to downplay it, he isn’t even sure why. Seungmin knows you aren’t judging him, you never do, but he never wanted something so badly before—and you saying no might actually drive him crazy. He wants to be gentle about this.

“Fine then be more specific,” you try, “do you just want to try it with no condom or do you actually want me to say the words?”

“The words,” he confesses slowly.

“And what words exactly?” You try, wanting to make sure you get his wish right. “Is it just ‘put a baby in me’ or is it like ‘I want your cum’ or something different like ‘paint my cunt’—“

“—shut the fuck up, Y/N,” he groans loudly, lifting his hips off the couch eagerly as his head falls back. He squeezed the top of your thighs incredibly tight.

“Right. So all of the above,” you note with a nod.

Just as Seungmin is certain he’s going to drag your body against his cock the doorbell rings, making you lift off him easily as you grab the food from the delivery man.

You calmly grab the food out the bags, grabbing plates and cutlery as you distribute the food between the plates.

Seungmin gets up from the couch and walks straight towards you.

“You’ll get the food in a sec, pups,” you chuckle at him.

Seungmin grabs your hands, halting your movements as he takes a step closer to you.

“Can we eat later?”

“Like, after the movie?” You blink at him.

“No,” he says, eyes dark and focused on you. It sends a chill down your legs. “After I fuck a baby into you.”

“Minnie,” you sigh, unable to ignore the way you felt his words deep in your core, “it’s almost nine. Do you really wanna lose so close to the end?”

“I don’t care,” he starts, grabbing your chin and tilting it upwards, allowing him to plant open kisses on your skin.

“But Minho—“

“—don’t care,” he mumbles into your skin.

“You specifically told me to remind you how you don’t wanna lose to him,” you try, although you aren’t sure what you’re fighting for anymore.

Sure it was Seungmin’s idea, but the thought of him fucking you raw was really fucking hot—and seeing him getting extremely desperate over it was enough to make your panties stick to your body with the wetness now coating them. It didn’t help that you last had sex thirty one days ago.

Still, were you really going to let him give up with so little time left?

“And now I’m specifically telling you to take your clothes off and let me.. what was it… paint your cunt.”

Yeah. You were going to let him give up with so little time left.

You crash your lips into his, swallowing both your moans into the kiss as the pair of you manoeuvre around your flat until you find the bedroom.

It doesn’t matter that you crash into a wall once or twice, or that Seungmin practically jams the doorknob into your back, because soon enough you fall onto the bed with him on top of you, pulling your clothes off like you’re the first sign of water he’s seen after a month in the desert.

Your hands tangle in his hair as you keep kissing—teeth clashing against his braces.

“Ow, fuck,” you groaned, pushing at his shoulders.

Seungmin understood what you needed, lifting himself up by his forearms.

“Let’s slow down for like two seconds,” you sighed, breathing in deeply. He nods, kissing your cheek softly before he takes a moment to catch his breath as well.

You look over at the clock behind him. 21:24.

“Are you sure?” You ask one more time.

“Ask me again and you don’t get to cum tonight at all,” Seungmin said, far too simply.

You groaned.

“Fine, but if I hear you bitch about losing to him once—“

“—mention Minho again and the same applies,” he dips his head between your breasts, wasting no time as he wraps his lips around your nipple. You whine softly, bringing your hands around his neck as you trail your nails up into his hair.

He hums against your bud before he pulls away with a small pop, trailing kisses down your stomach.

“Minnie, skip the fucking foreplay and just fuck me,” you groan. He looks up at you with a smirk but says nothing, instead pulling down his boxers.

You reach out for his dick, wrapping your hand around it and you both moan at the feeling. He’s heavy in your hand, and so warm, and you instantly pull him closer to you, aligning the tip with your entrance.

“You’re fucking eager,” he comments, having the audacity to tease you when you both know he’s the one who lost his patience.

You can’t even think of a rebuttal as he sinks all the way inside you.

You both breath heavily as you adjust to the familiar stretch, Seungmin’s eyes scrunched shut. You know better than to say anything, already feeling him twitch against your walls.

After a few moments he starts moving, much slower than you’d like, eyes still shut.

“This won’t be impressive,” he warns you, already losing his rhythm as his jaw clenchs visibly.

“It’s okay, baby,” you say softly, rubbing his shoulder, “we’ll use the vibe later if you need. Just want you to cum inside me first.”

“Don’t—“ he groans loudly, “—don’t fucking say that or I will seriously cum right now.”

“I won’t judge you for that at all,” you say sweetly, kissing his jaw as he moves closer to you, “this is the first time you’ve felt my cunt raw, Minnie, it’s okay if you lose your mind over how good it feels.”

“Your cunt feels so good like this,” he moans loudly, “so fucking warm.”

You moan at his praise. “Imagine how warm it’ll feel with your cum coating my walls.”

And that’s all it takes for him to groan loudly, pushing in impossibly deeper as you feel his dick twitching inside you—the warm feeling settling deep inside your stomach as he cums.

It’s a lot, his orgasm crashing into him so quickly, and he all but crashes on top of you, his dick still buried inside you.

You kiss his forehead as he calms down, his breath fanning against your chest.

As soon as it starts to even out you open your mouth to speak, to reassure him that you didn’t mind how fast that was, but a yelp replaces whatever words you came up with when Seungmin shoots up and reaches for the drawer in your nightstand.

He easily pulls out your favourite vibe—the one he bought you for your first Valentine’s Day as a couple—and with no warning he presses the toy against your clit.

He’s still inside you and with the vibrations against you, your moans leave you without you even noticing. Soon, Seungmin starts thrusting into you again slowly.

“There you go, beautiful,” he says, eyes fixed on the toy, “gonna let me fuck my cum deeper into you?”

“Fuck, Minnie,” you whine, “baby, please.”

He chuckles cockily, his confidence always skyrockets when he hears you beg for him. He flicks his wrist, moving the vibe from side to side quickly as he slows down his thrusts.

His cock reaches deep inside you, nudging against your most sensitive spot, your wetness and his allowing him to slip in and out so incredibly easily. When he leans down to suck on your collarbone you whine out.

“I’m close, I’m close,” you start chanting, so he turns the setting up on the vibrator—grinning as you all but scream in response.

“Go on, my love, I got you,” he encourages, and with one final deep thrust your walls clench around him tightly.

Seungmin doesn’t pull out, nor does he move the vibrator away from your clit, and after your second orgasm in a row you let out a strangled moan from the overstimulation.

“Off, off, off,” you squirmed, causing your boyfriend to quickly move the toy away from you and turn it off.

Everything around you is sticky and sweaty and wet—the mess between your thighs started to leak a long time ago, pooling on the sheets.

Seungmin planted kisses on your temple, slowly, giving you the time you needed to calm down from the pleasure.

The aftershock of two orgasms made your walls practically flutter, clenching around Seungmin a few times. He buried his head in the crook of your neck as he sighed deeply.

“Bubs, you have no fucking idea how good this feels,” he mumbled against your skin.

“Yeah,” you sigh, running your fingers up and down his back soothingly. “It’s a little weird, but it’s also really hot that I can feel it inside me.”

“Yeah,” he kisses your neck. “Wanna keep going?”

You decided whatever Seungmin asked for you’d give him. You decided that the night you realised you loved him, but you decided that all over again when he kept asking if you could keep going—insisting on making you cum at least twice after each one of his, growing fascinated by the way his cum would spill out of your cunt as you came down from your high.

After the fourth round, Seungmin finally tapped out.

He crashed on his back, hand tangled around your shoulders as he filled his lungs with as much air as he could get.

“Holy shit, Minnie,” you chuckle breathlessly.

“Holy shit indeed,” he shakes his head in disbelief. “That’s the best sex we ever had.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you laugh.

You use the very little strength you have to reach for his hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

The silence takes over the room when even your breathing becomes quieter—so quiet, in fact, that Seungmin knows you’ve fallen asleep.

“Hey, hey!” He shook your intertwined hands. “Wake up!”

“No,” you mumbled back.

“We have to shower after all that, bubs, wake up.”

“No,” you whined, “sleep.”

“Bubs, there’s cum everywhere. We need to change the sheets and clean you out and drink,” he reminded you, squeezing your hand. He leaned over, carefully, pressing a kiss to your temple.

Eventually you listen to your boyfriend and get up, cleaning yourself and the bed and finally eating the food you ordered. Your hand never leaves his, locked together tightly, as that is the one thing Seungmin asked for as his aftercare and you always made sure to give him exactly that.

When you finally get back into your clean bed—sometime before four in the morning—Seungmin mumbled angrily to himself.

“I’ll tell him tomorrow and that smug asshole can get his stupid win,” he seethes.

“Okay, puppy,” you chuckle at him. The only thing you could think about was the pleasure still tingling around your body, how you’ve known each other for so long and somehow he still managed to surprise you tonight with his stamina, about how hot that all was. But Seungmin was still thinking about the competition.

He kissed your lips sweetly, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Thanks for trying that out with me.”

“It was incredible, baby,” you grinned at him, “thanks for getting so horny over the thought of it all.”

Seungmin groaned in response.

When Seungmin woke up around midday he reached for his phone, checking the time. And maybe a part of him was relieved to finally see December on that date.

There were a few notifications waiting for his attention, but he opened the group chat first.

He sighed heavily when he read over Chan’s text that came in at six in the morning, knowing he sent it before he went to sleep and definitely not because he woke up early.

Bang Chan: so who won?

#nnn #skz smut #skz fluff #stray kids x you #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #stray kids x reader #skz x yn #skz x reader #kim seungmin #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin x you #kim seungmin x reader #seungmin x you #seungmin x reader #seungmin x y/n #all.works

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acourtofwhatthefuck · 6 months

Text

Practice On Me — Part Nine — Azriel x Reader

Summary: Roza’s arrival in Windhaven brings some home truths crashing down on Reader. She just needs a hug, someone to talk to, but it all goes very, very wrong…

Word Count: 3k.

Warnings: None.

Chaos evades logic.

There is no rationality to be found here. No sense to be made of the ample feelings that begin to chew you up and spit you out.

All you know, as you lace your breeches up and correct yourself, is that you feel like you’ve been punched in the gut.

“Are you decent?” Roza calls, her back still to you.

You tie the last lace. Clear your throat. “All good.”

The closest person you’ve ever had to a mother figure turns on the spot. She’s absolutely beautiful — fucking glowing — her swollen belly visible through her thick coat, and her eyes alight with a quality you’ve never seen before.

Rhysand really is the mirror image of her.

“I actually cannot believe I just witnessed that.” She grouses. “And just when I thought the morning sickness had finally come to an end, too. My poor, poor eyes.”

Cassian makes a noise. “Roz, that’s a bit dramatic—”

“You be quiet.” She points a finger at him. “Your mouth has done quite enough tonight, thank you very much.”

The two of them stare at each other — Cassian wanting to be a little shit and push his luck, and Roza wanting to…

Well, to gouge her eyes out with a rusty spoon, probably.

But then Cassian cracks a grin, and he’s bounding over to the female like an excitable pup. “Fuck, I’ve missed you.”

“Watch your language.” Roza scorns, but she happily accepts the hug that Cass yanks her into. “Gods, you’ve grown even more.”

You…you are rooted to the spot. Unable to move.

You want to go over there, too. To embrace her. But…but just seeing Roza makes the previous couple of months come hammering down on you in an unwelcome downpour of unwanted realisations.

You think: Roza caught me fooling around with Cassian.

And then you think: Fucking hell, I fooled around with Cassian again.

And then you’re wondering how — how you’ve let the recent events of your life veer down such a beaten, broken path.

It’s like Roza’s appearance brings a clarity that has been very much absent as of late. She’s always been a figure of reason and wisdom, always stopped you from spiralling.

And now she’s here, you’re looking at Cassian — your damn friend — and wondering just how much damage you might have caused.

He’s mid-conversation with Roza when he seems to notice you staring at him. Roza notices, too.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” She says.

You open your mouth, unsure how you intend to respond. All that slips out is a rasped, “I’m just…so glad you’re here.”

Cassian snorts. “Tell that to your face.”

You can’t bring yourself to laugh at the jibe. And it would seem that Roza can’t, either. She’s studying you in that assessing way you’ve seen her wear a thousand times before — the one where the motherly instinct kicks in, and she’s sensing something is wrong. It seems to be a subconscious act, the way she slides her hand over her bump.

“So what are you doing back here, anyway?” Cassian asks her, slinging an arm round her shoulders. “I thought the High Lord wanted you to stay in Velaris for the pregnancy.”

“He does.” Roza says. “But then I found out Y/N had somehow ended up homeless and that he hadn’t bothered to help, so he and I aren’t on the best of terms right now.” She eyes you again. “I’ve come to move you properly into the cottage — including retrieving your belongings from your father’s house. I will not have you freezing your ass off in this dump.”

Gods, you love her.

She’s so fierce, so passionate. This is a female who housed three lost, rowdy children under her roof and offered them the same amount of love as she felt for her biological son. This is a female who does what she believes is right and damns the consequences. This is a female who doesn’t hesitate — not for one second — to help somebody in need.

She’s the exact kind of female you want yourself to be. And she’s the only person you wish to see in that moment.

“Perfect.” Cassian chirps brightly. “I’ll help. Let’s go fetch Y/N’s stuff from the bastard’s house right now.”

He takes a step towards the door, but Roza is laying a hand on his arm. She doesn’t look away from you once. “Cassian, my darling, I love you endlessly. And so, I say this with the greatest of adoration — fuck off to the mead hall, or something, and leave Y/N and I to have some girl time alone.”

“What?” He squawks in outrage. “But you just got here.”

“And I promise you we’ll catch up properly later. But right now, Y/N and I need some time alone.”

“But—”

“Do you want to stay and discuss the ins and outs of childbirth?”

Instantly, he falters. The change of tune would be comical if you were actually capable of feeling anything but despair in that moment.

“You know what?” He cracks a grin. “The mead hall sounds great right about now.”

Roza chuckles. “I thought it might. I’m taking Y/N back to the cottage. I’ll come and fetch you when we’re done. And if you see Az or Rhys, be sure to tell them to stay away, too.”

Oh.

This is going to be a serious talk.

You can’t remember the last time Roza was so insistent about it just being the two of you.

Probably when you got your first ever cycle, and she held and soothed and bathed you through it.

Will she still be so tender when she hears of the full scope of the mess you’ve created for yourself? You’re not sure you’d deserve it.

“Go easy, Cass.” Roza warns. “Don’t get into any fights.”

“Pff. As if I would.” Your friend lands a kiss on her cheek. “You look beautiful, Roz.” He says, and then he’s bustling out of the door without a care in the world.

You stare after him. Wish you could be that carefree. It feels…it feels impossible.

Gods, you just want to fucking cry.

Roza can see that. She holds a hand out.

“Come, my little dove.” She says. “Let’s get you home.”

✧: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It kind of feels like walking into the cottage for the very first time, all over again.

You remember that night like it happened only yesterday. Remember how the cold had felt as you’d followed Azriel through the snow. The noises of bickering coming from behind the door.

Even at eleven, Az had always seemed so much taller than you. You’d noticed that as he’d strode ahead and led you inside.

Roza had been standing in the kitchen, and she’d turned to you with a curious expression. “Oh.” She’d chirped, with more warmth than you’d ever heard from your own kin. “What have we here, then?”

You, Azriel had explained to her, had been set upon by a group of males far older than you. Az had defended you, and then he’d invited you to share his dinner.

Roza had taken one look at the dirt packed beneath your fingernails and told you to thoroughly wash your hands before taking a seat. You’d done just that.

And it was at that very table that Rhysand had introduced himself.

“I’m Rhysand. My father is the High Lord.”

Roza had scolded him for showing off.

And it was after that that Cassian had eyed you with a wild, feral look and simply said, “I bet I could beat you in an arm wrestle. I beat everyone.”

“Not at my dinner table, you don’t.” Roza had put a stop to that immediately. And then she’d placed a steaming pie in the centre of the table, and High Lords and arm wrestles were all but forgotten, and Azriel had been quiet and shy at your side, but dutifully offering you different foods before he took any for himself—

Standing at the threshold of the cottage, now…it’s like watching that entire scene play out before you. The ghosts of your younger, wayward selves feast greedily on a wholesome meal that lets you forget your harrowing experiences for a little while.

How things have changed.

You finally step in. Kick the door shut behind you. The smells and warmth of your sanctuary envelop you, and you know — you fucking know that you won’t be able to keep a lid on your tears for long.

“Don’t know how many times I’ve told those idiots to put the fire out before they leave the house.” Roza mutters, but she goes striding straight towards that burning fire and welcomes its warmth. “Although, I must admit, I’m a little impressed. I expected this place to be far messier in my absence than it is. Don’t tell me they’ve actually been cleaning—”

“Roza.” You cut in, your voice shaky, desperate. “About what you saw—”

She turns back to you. Says nothing as concerned, violet eyes sweep the length of your body. She’s letting you speak, but you don’t know what the fuck to say.

You open and close your mouth as though the act will make some sense of…any of this.

It doesn’t.

“I didn’t realise you and Cassian were…” Roza clears her throat. Pauses. “I just…what of Azriel, Y/N?”

You blink at her.

Roza’s very good at knowing things she hasn’t been told, but for her to know about you and Az when she’s been in Velaris this whole time, and when, as far as you’re aware, these things have been strictly kept between you and Azriel only—

“What?” You breathe.

“Perhaps I’m wrong, I don’t know.” She frowns. “But I always suspected that you and Az would be…something more. Your connection with him has always run a little deeper than with anyone else. That’s why I was so shocked when I found you…and Cass…”

Is she wrong?

No.

And fucking damn you for taking all these years to see it. Fucking damn you for only realising you wanted Azriel as more than just your friend when somebody else began to recognise his brilliance.

Fucking damn you for all of this, and damn Azriel, too, and damn everyone.

It all comes showering down on you in an instant, harsh and unwelcome.

You love Azriel. Not just in the way you love Rhysand and Cassian. You’re in love with his soul, his spirit. Who he is will always be tethered to who you are, even though he isn’t yours to cling onto. It’s been that way since you were old enough to harbour such feelings, and you’ve been burying it all these years, burying it under bad choices and regrettable actions, because all of that seemed easier to face, than…this. The fact that you were never able to control your heart, stop it from feeling such things, and now you feel them so intensely that it hurts.

Had your deal with Az ever really been about helping him, or had it been a selfish ruse under which you could have some small experience to remember him by when he inevitably gave his heart to somebody else?

Because you are just Y/N. You’ve always just been Y/N.

You are not Kaeda — Kaeda with the wings, and the strength, and the excellence.

Just Y/N. Just Y/N—

“Speak to me, my love.” Roza steps closer. “I’m worried about you.”

Your eyes blur with tears. Your legs buckle, and you’re bracing one hand on the back of the couch while the other flies up to cup over your mouth.

“Oh, gods, what have I done?” Your voice breaks.

“Speak to me.” Roza says again.

“This is all such a mess.”

“What is, Y/N?”

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me, I don’t know what—what to do!”

“You need to breathe.” She responds firmly. “Deep breaths. Now.”

You try. Gods, you try. But your chest is constricting, and the air won’t reach your lungs, and all you can hear on a constant loop inside your head is one, bellowing sentence.

Everything is irreversibly changed.

Roza closes the gap between you and cups your face. The touch is soft, but firm. She forces you to look at her, and her face is blurred by your tears, but you know she’s looking at you how she’s always looked at you — with love.

“Tell me what’s going on, and I can help you through it.” She pleads.

“I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” You sob back.

She yanks you close, arms wrapping around you. She’s held you like this through so, so much. This is no different.

But it feels different, in that it feels worse. Not only is it possible that your actions could change your relationships with both Cassian and Azriel, but also that they could change their relationship with each other, too — change the strong, steadfast dynamic between your three closest friends.

You tremble, clinging to Roza like you may just collapse. Your heartbeat gallops in your ears like rhythmic footfalls.

“Y/N—”

“It all turned into a total mess.” You choke out. “I was feeling things — I am feeling things — and then Azriel had Kaeda and I was jealous and stupid and I — I shouldn’t have done it. I shouldn’t have slept with Cassian.”

“You did what?”

Those three, outraged words are not spoken in Roza’s voice. The sudden interjection of Azriel’s is enough for your sobs to catch in your throat.

Every single inch of your body goes cold as you step back to look at him. Blink at him. Roza fights to keep hold of you.

Normally, he would have hurried over to embrace her. But he stays rooted to the last step of the staircase. He’s staring at you. Only you.

You’ve never seen him look so pale.

“Az.” Roza sighs softly. “We didn’t realise you were home.”

He doesn’t look away from you — not once — as he asks, “What did you just say?”

Roza inches towards him. “I think we all need to sit down and talk about this—”

“You fucked Cassian?”

Tears spill over, roll down your cheeks. Your voice doesn’t want to show itself as you croak out, “Az, I can explain.”

“You fucked Cassian?” He’s repeating it like…like he needs to. Like it won’t get into his head any other way. “You had sex with him?”

“Yes, but—”

“Around the time you and I were doing similar things?”

Roza’s head whips round to you in surprise. You’d failed to mention that bit. After a moment, she rights herself once more. “Azriel, you should let her speak.”

“I can’t fucking believe you.” Letting you speak is the last thing on his mind as he steps down, storming past the two of you. You reach out for him, but he’s jerking away, heading for the door.

“Azriel, please.” Your voice cracks. “Let me explain.”

“Explain that you fucked Cass? At the same time that I was sharing such…such huge things with you—”

“At the same time you were sharing them with Kaeda!”

He falls still, hand faltering on the doorknob, shoulders hunched.

And then he glances over his shoulder at you with an expression so bleak, you’d do anything, make a bargain with anyone, to wipe it from his face.

“Except that I’ve never touched Kaeda like that.” He says. “Not once. I couldn’t.”

Before you’re capable of summoning an answer, he’s yanking the door open and thundering out into the snow.

Shock pulses through you, ice-cold and harrowing. You blink, and blink and blink and blink, and you think Roza might be saying your name, but you can only choke out another sob that grates against your throat, and then your legs are moving forward, stumbling out of the door.

“Az, wait!” You cry, but he’s already striding far into the distance. “Please!”

You try to move, but it’s like the snow is binding your ankles, grounding you firmly to the spot. You sob. Try to move. Fall. Get up. It’s cold and wet. You’re hurting. Everything’s hurting.

And somebody’s yelling — yelling at you.

“Hey!” You know the voice. It’s a voice you don’t like. But you can’t put a face to it until its owner is stopping in front of you, sneering at you. Lord Devlon. “What did I tell you about staying away from these parts, girl?”

You’re incapable of answering him. You’re not even looking at him. You just stare and stare in the direction that Az disappeared in, fat, hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

“I’m talking to you.” Devlon grabs your chin between his fingers, hard. “Insolent female—”

“Remove your hand from her face at once.”

He blinks at the sight of Roza stepping out of the cottage. Clearly, he had no clue she’d returned. And even he won’t speak out against the High Lord’s pregnant mate.

He drops his hand immediately.

Roza steps up to your side and narrows her gorgeous eyes at him. Her hand sits on her swollen belly. “Look at you, Lord Devlon — following orders like a good dog. Now, go on. Fuck off.”

There’s a slight twitch of a muscle as he clenches his jaw. He hates every second of it, but he obediently turns away from you.

“Oh — Lord Devlon?” Roza calls after him.

He stops. Turns. “Yes, lady?”

“I decide who can and cannot live in my house.” She stares him down. “That call is mine and mine alone. And if I hear of you giving Y/N any more trouble? I’ll rip your fucking throat out.”

She turns her back to him with utter dismissal. If you weren’t so devastated, you might laugh at his stunned expression.

But Roza sees the pain in your eyes, and she pulls you into her arms.

“Come, my love.” She murmurs softly. “Let’s get you inside.”

az tags: @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @sirenpearldust @queercodedcharacter @azriels-shadowsinger @ruler-of-hades @demi03 @magicaldragonlady @abrielletargaryen @ralsieq @v3lv3tf0x @achase2002 @feyretopia @hayrunnwr @don’t-feed-the-hipsters @brekkershadowsinger @piceous21 @bloodicka @acourtofinkandpapyrus @riri-is-agirlie @siriusement @4valyries @socmono @azriels-mate123 @acourtofbatboydreams @katherinearcheron @nesemi @lupinswolfsbanes @dreaming-unafraid @dxnniiix @cyrygher @liddyr03 @lmllsl @nightless @teenageeggscissorslawyer @brighterthanlonelythoughts @blitz-fall @maybefoxysouls @mschanand1erbong @juiceboxreads @bangtanbecks @florencemtrash @hyemishii @obixix @thenovarose @meshellexplosionmurder @angzlxna @lissy31xoxo-blog @supernatural99 @positivewitch @art3-m1ss @milfhunter-pdx @bbuckysbeardd @coralseacourt @towhateverend87 @sspookz @bird-on-the-wire33 @morrie-rose @megwan @catscanteleport @sevikas-whore @thickthighs-sadeyes

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saksukei · 8 months

Text

gojo satoru falls for a non sorcerer

masterlist | meh i don't really like this ughhh

in all his life, satoru gojo never thought he'd fall for a non sorcerer.

heck, he didn't even think it was possible. he was on a mission and he had rescued you. as a means of thank you, you promised him that had could always come to your house for a free meal. gojo laughed about it, mentioning something about how it's his duty to help and yet, he shows up anyway.

and when they said that the way to a man's stomach is through his heart, you’ve proved that theory correct. maybe because it's your smile, or the delicious food that you give him, or the fact that he's hopelessly in love with you, he can't help but show up every weekend. (he counts his lucky stars that he didn't give that mission to nanami).

but one day, he shows up without any warning. blindfold off, hands and clothes covered in blood. he knows he shouldn't. he can absolutely go to the infirmary and it won't be an issue, but his feet take him elsewhere.

when you find him on your doorstep, for the first time, you actively realize that gojo satoru is not just some random guy that comes over and eats out the entire contents of your fridge. no, he's much more than that. how you had completely forgotten what he was destined to be, the so called saviour of jujutsu society.

“oh toru,” you mutter as you immediately take him in and sit him down. he doesn't say a word and you don't ask.

you ignore his blue eyes burning through your skin, as you clean his hands with a rag and he lets you.

however, instead of an explanation, he says something you weren't expecting. “m’ sorry for showing up like this. won't happen again.”

“nonsense toru,” you retort. “it’s okay.”

“you can’t even look me in the eye,” he remarks and it stings. he's not entirely wrong, but you can't look him in the eye for a completely different reason.

“i can toru,” you reply, finally meeting his eyes. “what i can't see is you getting hurt.”

he doesn't reply, but he removes a strand of hair from your face. “m’ sorry.” he apologizes again, feeling like he's the worst man in the world for showing up like this. the only thought on his mind is why does he always hurt the people closest to him? the ones he loves the most? is this what it is to be cursed?

“stop apologizing to me,” you say, sternly. “i said it’s okay,” you continue wiping the blood off his hands.

your reply pulls him out of his dilemma. and so, he does something he's never done before. satoru leans slightly forward and presses a kiss to your forehead.

“can’t help it,” he whispers. “don’t ever want to see you upset.”

“oh? should i consider myself special?” you tease, trying to lighten the mood but his reply throws you off guard.

“of course,” he leans back in his chair. “you’re the only one that has ever had the privilege of being my favorite.”

#jjk x reader #jjk gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu gojo #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk imagines #jjk fluff #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader

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love-belle · 11 months

Text

you're my best friend !!!

ੈ✩‧₊˚ in which she just loves her best friend, who happens to be her boyfriend's best friend's girlfriend.

for when it's everything you have ever wanted in your life.˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚

social media au // charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings - language

author's note - i love this so much, i hope you like it!! hopefully a carlos one shot would be out by tonight along with a social media au!! i love you, thank you so much for reading!!

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by francisca.cgomes, lewishamilton, carmenmmundt and 896,525 others

yourusername you're my best friend i'll love you forever

tagged francisca.cgomes

7,827 comments

username THEY'RE SO GORGEOUS OMG

username IM SO AHAHSHHSJAJ

username the prettiest duo 🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤🫤

landonorris fyi pierre and charles are both sulking bc they miss u

-> yourusername we literally left 30 mins ago

-> francisca.cgomes tell them to suck it up

-> pierregasly woah

-> charles_leclerc i see how it is 💔

username girlfriends

username I WANT A FRIENDSHIP LIKE THEIRS

francisca.cgomes we look so pretty

-> yourusername fuck yeah we do

francisca.cgomes i love you best friend

-> yourusername i love you more best friend

username im in love with them.

charles_leclerc whatever i like pierre more anyway 🙄

-> pierregasly 😘

-> yourusername 🫶🏼 francisca.cgomes

-> francisca.cgomes my love ❤️

username HELP CHARLES AND PIERRE ARE SO OBSESSED BFS

-> username pretty gfs 🤝 obsessed bfs

pierregasly i like charles more than you anyways

-> yourusername can't hear u over boyfriend by dove cameron 🥰

-> pierregasly GIVE ME MY GF BACK

-> yourusername no ❤️

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, pierregasly and 875,427 others

francisca.cgomes the only thing i like about charles is his gf 😘😘😘😘

tagged yourusername

6,916 comments

username PLEASE

username they're so ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

username i can feel charles whining about this to pierre

carmenmmundt missing you both 🤍🤍

-> francisca.cgomes can't wait till you're here!!

username i love their friendship so much omg

pierregasly charles says he regrets introducing you two

-> francisca.cgomes doesn't matter now that she's my soulmate ❤️‍🩹

charles_leclerc a word of advice!! never introduce your best friend's gf and your gf, they WILL abandon you

-> francisca.cgomes cry about it x

-> yourusername wdym she's literally my gf now??????

-> pierregasly oh.

username i love this chaotic energy sm

yourusername the only reason i like pierre is you

-> francisca.cgomes HELP

username kika really said "i could be a better boyfriend than him"

*liked by yourusername*

username in love with these two ur honour

≡;- ꒰ °instagram ꒱

liked by lewishamilton, carmenmmundt, danielricciardo and 899,627 others

yourusername double date but charles and pierre are 3rd and 4th wheel

tagged charles_leclerc pierregasly francisca.cgomes

8,162 comments

username all of them are so

username THEY'RE RELATIONSHIP GOALS AND FRIENDSHIP GOALS

username double date but charles and pierre, me and kika*

-> yourusername my bad, you are absolutely correct

*liked by charles_leclerc, pierregasly and francisca.cgomes*

username the way charles is looking at her ☹️☹️☹️☹️

danielricciardo missing you all ❤️‍🩹

-> yourusername can't wait to see you danny ❤️‍🩹‼️

username Y/N AND KIKA ARE SO POWERFUL TOGETHER LIKE DAMN

username two pretty best friends ⁉️⁉️⁉️

pierregasly i would appreciate it if you can give me my gf back

-> yourusername sorry she likes me more

-> francisca.cgomes sorry bebé 💔💔💔

francisca.cgomes date with my 4ever no. 1

-> pierregasly love you angel ❤️

-> yourusername she meant me but ok.

username y/n stealing kika from pierre is actually so hilarious like i love it when wags become best friends

-> username literally like y/n, kika, lily and carmen are THE best friends and i love them sm :///

charles_leclerc it's okay but i miss you 💔

-> yourusername im sitting next yo u ?

-> charles_leclerc you're talking to kika

-> francisca.cgomes and?

charles_leclerc mate i think we made a mistake

-> pierregasly we really did huh

username THEY'RE SO PRETTY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

#f1 x female reader #f1 x reader #social media au #fake instagram imagines #f1 imagines #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x female reader #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc instagram au #charles leclerc imagine

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kissitbttr · 4 months

Note

i absolutely love u and ur work sm 😖 miggy being drunk but loyal 🥲 like reader is going to take him home after a night out and he’s like “back off i’m taken” or something along those lines ☹️☹️

omg he so would!! i’ll use this one for the married miguel i have going on!

it’s good to finally see miguel letting loose for once. her poor baby had been dwelling on work and stress that her heart couldn’t take it anymore. she could see it’s starting to get to him, but miguel being miguel, he always puts on the unbothered facade. unluckily for him, she could see right through her husband

so she proposed that him and the rest of the team to have a night out, miles and gwen are excluded.

miguel despises clubs, they’re pointless and reckless. music’s good. not worth the crowd though.

but since peter, jess, and her teamed up against him, he had no saying in that.

“you need to lay off my man a little, jess. poor baby has been working too hard” she points out, sipping on her lychee martini,

jess cocks an eyebrow. “i tried to! he’s the one who didn’t want to”

“you know how he is, y/n” peter chimes, “he won’t listen to any of us except you”

“yeah” she smiles, staring down at her ring finger. “sounds like him”

“where is he by the way? i need to get home soon. MJ would kick my ass if i’m even 5 minutes late” peter sighs, pulling out his wallet to put some bills,

she stops him with a hand gesture. “don’t. it’s on me.”

“girl, you sure?” jess asks,

“i make as much money as my husband. of course, i’m sure” she laughs, finishing her drink. “you two get home. me and miggy are going home too anyway”

jess fakes a gag. “i still have to get used to you calling him that. gross”

she laughs again, three of them standing up from the table before giving each other a hug, thanking them for coming.

soon as they left, she gathers her things before walking towards the bar where her husband is at. she smiles upon seeing his large back facing her, hunching slightly as he finished up the last drink of his.

it’s so easy to spot him,

“alright big boy, it’s close to one. let’s call it a night, yeah?” she appears by his side, hand on his shoulder,

to her surprise, he shrugs it off making her frown. avoiding her gaze before scooting away,

“miguel wha—“

“back off, i’ve got a wife. and i would appreciate it if you leave”

her heart soars,

the frown turns into a pleased expression, she crosses her arms with a playful smile. “oh really? she pretty?”

“gorgeous” he corrects her. “and the best damn thing i’ve ever had so please” his hand shoo her away. “i’m a man. i don’t cheat”

the heat blossoms in her chest when he does so. a frown forms on his handsome face, showing her that he isn’t playing around,

oh he’s drunk, drunk

“okay well, i happen to know your wife, actually. and i am very sorry but i mean no disrespect, I didn’t know you’re married” she plays along, watching him him but a stoic expression remains on his face,

“want me to get her?”

his face lights up at that, turning around to face her before nodding with a smile,

“yes please! that would be great. i miss her”

she awes at that, who knew her husband could be such a huge softie?

“okay, be right back” she responds before walking away only to reappear back to his left side, fronting a wide grin,

“baby! how you doing?!”

miguel eyes light up once more, mirroring his wife’s smile before his hands reach out to her, arms wide open to invite her to a hug,

“my love! mi corazón ! beautiful beautiful querida! i am so happy you are here!” he sighs dreamily,

she giggles at his cute demeanor, accepting his embrace as he pulls her in, arms wrapped around her waist.

“there was this girl who wanted to take me home and I completely told her off because i said, ‘my wife! is here with me and i would appreciate it if you fuck off!’ “

she holds back a laugh at how silly and sassy he is putting on his scowl expression,

“really? well good riddance! she should’ve known better!” she pulls away and cradle his cheeks in between her hands, feeling him lean against her palm,

he nods, circling his hands around her wrists. “mi corazón te pertenece, ahora y para siempre. got you this far, didn’t i?”

if her heart could burst, it would in that moment. even in his drunken state, he still manages to front a lovesick gaze everytime he looks at her. to speak like a true poet and aim for her heart just like that,

she nods back, pressing a soft kiss on his lips. “yes, baby. yes you did”

I WANT HIM SO BAD YALL I CANT

#miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara fluff

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greatooglymooglyyy · 1 month

Note

hi i just want to say you do absolutely amazing work and i love it i was wondering if you could do a matt or chris one shot where the reader just hasn’t been doing well with stress and their anxiety acting up cause something really important to them is soon and they help comfort reader and take readers mind off of it till the day of. i have a theater performance next week and im really anxious about it and this would really help thank you and i hope you have a good day

I'll Look After You (Matthew Sturniolo)

contains: stressed out reader, mentions of anxiety and insecurity, fluff, kissing, bf!matt to the rescue, 1.k words

a/n: hi anon. i wanted to get to this request asap because i've definitely been there before. i hope this helps you even a little bit. i know you'll kill it. love uuuuu

“Could beauty, my lord, have better…Fuck! Line.” I say running my hand roughly through my hair in frustration.

It’s the night before my debut in Hamlet, a play I’ve been in love with since seventh grade, and somehow I’m managing to forget all of my lines. Even after all the weeks of rehearsals and notes, I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that I’m playing Ophelia. Well, I will be if I can get my shit together.

Matt sits at the table watching me intently as I pace back and forth in his kitchen. “I think you’re hitting a wall, baby. Maybe you should take a break.”

“I don’t have time for a break! Line.” I snap, pulling my bottom lip into my mouth and chewing nervously.

He narrows his eyes at my tone but continues to read. “Could beauty, my lord, have better commerce than with honesty?”

I repeat the line and he answers with Hamlet’s. We continue back and forth for a few lines before I stumble again. “You were not deceived.” I cringe, knowing the line is wrong before Matt speaks.

"I was the most deceived.” He corrects softly and I groan in defeat.

“God, I’m an idiot. This is all my fault! I was reading The Scottish Play before rehearsals today and now I’m cursed! I didn’t even say the damn thing out loud.” I gesture wildly at where the book sits open near Matt.

His face screws up in confusion. “What does Macbeth have to-”

“Matt! Are you crazy? Don’t tempt the witches!”

“Have you lost-” He takes a deep breath and regains composure. “Take a seat, baby.”

I begrudgingly drop down into the chair across from him, tapping my fingers restlessly on the table.

“What are you so afraid of?” Matt asks gently, nudging my foot under the table.

At the question, all my insecurities flood back up. I don’t know how to tell him that I’ve never thought of myself as a lead before. Don’t know how to make him understand how deeply I want to see whatever my director saw in me at auditions. So instead I try for something simpler. “What if I’m not good enough?”

“You are.” He answers without a second of hesitation.

I roll my eyes and shake my head. “You’re just saying that because you’re in love with me.”

“Give them five minutes of watching you on stage and everyone in that theater will be too.”

I want to believe him but how can that be true if I can’t even remember my lines? I drop my head down on the table, pressing my face to the cool wood and closing my eyes.

Matt reaches his hand across the table and smooths a thumb over my wrist. “C’mon. Take a drive with me.”

I look up at his kind smile, tears welling in my eyes. “No, Matt. I can do it. I can get past this block.”

He comes around the table and kneels beside the chair, turning me to face him. “I know.” He pulls me into his arms and places a kiss on the side of my head. “Come with me anyway.”

**************

We drive to In and Out and park in a random parking lot, listening to the quiet sound of drizzle hitting the van. Matt’s been unusually chatty since we headed out, feeling the silence I would usually take up while he nods along.

He starts to tell me what to do if I encounter different types of bears and I can’t help but laugh at his delivery.

When he’s finished, I sit back and stare out the window at the dark clouds. But when I feel Matt’s eyes on me, I turn back to meet his gaze. “What?”

He leans closer to me, his eyes soft and open. “I just want to know that you,” he starts, his tone straight out of a romance movie. “have some grease on your nose. You should probably get that off.”

I laugh and wipe my nose, flipping him off. “Oh, all of a sudden, you got jokes?”

We settle into a comfortable silence and Matt grabs his phone to pick a new song as Frank Ocean fades out. When I hear the beginning notes of my favorite The Fray song, I grin over at him.

“I thought you didn’t like them and think they sing in cursive?” I tease as he turns the song up a bit.

“I’ve reconsidered. Dance with me?”

“It’s raining! We’ll get soaked.”

“Dance with me anyway.”

I grin as I fling my door open and meet him at the front of the car. I lock my arms around his neck as he pulls me in by the waist.

🎶‘when i’m losing my control the city spins around, you’re the only one who knows to slow it down’🎶

Matt pulls me closer to him, our bodies flush, as we sway back and forth. He presses quick kisses to the side of my head and I giggle as he nuzzles his face into mine. He swings me out so he can clumsily pull me back to him and we both burst into laughter.

🎶‘you’ve begun to feel like home’🎶

We spin around now, completely offbeat, the water on the ground around us splashing up and soaking us even more.

He wraps his arms back around my waist as the song begins to fade out, still holding me close. I open my mouth to make a joke about it ending when I hear the drums of Taylor Swift’s Lover.

I pull back and stare at him in incredulity and he shrugs. “It’s your playlist.” And my heart takes off like a rocket ship.

I reach up and press my lips to his, a gentle kiss that turns more passionate as I try to fill it with as much love as I feel right now. When I pull away, he licks his lips, his face a deep and satisfied red. “I love you.” He whispers.

“This is the very ecstasy of love,” I reply with a grin. Not my line, per se, but close enough.

And as Matt leans down and closes the space between us again, I feel the block around Ophelia’s lines loosen. But how could it not with a muse like this.

🏷️: @sturniolho @sttzee @tillies33ssss @miloisdone1 @sstvrnioloo @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @mrsmiagreer @asturniolos

@teapartyprincess4two @whicked-hazlatwhore @sukiipjs @accio326 @sturniolosmind @imfromthediningtable @rootbeerworshiper @st4rswrld @leah-loves-lilies

#maggie b writes #sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo headcanon #matt sturniolo oneshots #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo x reader #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo oneshot #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo #sturniolo fandom

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