#i panic and somehow stop and go at the same time
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I've just recently finally gathered the courage to buy a horror manga from Junji Ito and I've gone for Tomie and now that I've actually started reading it, I just can't stop thinking about having a female s/o based on a similar concept. Someone who has the uncanny ability to make people obsessed with her if they spend enough time with her and who always regenerates no matter how cruel her deaths are by the hands of very same people who fell victims to her strange powers and claimed to adore her.
After years of enduring death and obsession in an never-ending cycle again and again, I can only imagine how jaded and morbid reader would be with everything. She has fully embraced her cursed existence at this point because there is literally nothing she can do about it so at this point she has turned it all into a game. Every time someone else falls for her, she's basically playing the 'what Yandere type are you going to be?' in her head as she has seen it all. She has seen the possessive, the obsessive, the delusional, the overprotective, the clingy, the submissive and dominant, the worshippers and the sadists.
Reader can only sit back and watch with a mixture of pity and amusement in her heart as her newest victim is molded into another obsessive freak that she will live with and indulge their every whim for as long until they snap and she will die yet another death at the hands of her supposed lover.
There are a few worlds where I think such a reader would be especially interesting to let loose (by the way, there are spoilers for Chainsaw Man if you are an anime only):
In Hunter x Hunter I have two headcannons for a Tomie reader. Either she has a Nen ability. Considering that her mere presence would twist and change everyone's emotions as well as considering her regeneration abilities and other things she can do with her body, she'd either be in possession of two nen types which would be Transmutation and Manipulation or she would be a Specialist
The headcannon I consider to be far more intriguing though would be if reader would be a humanoid creature who originated from the Dark Continent but somehow found her way to the Known World. Imagine the Hunter Association or the Known World Government finding out about your existence and hiring skilled Hunters and assassins to track you down and murder you before your abilities could cause any panic.
Imagine Chrollo and the Phantom Troupe catching wind of the situation that is currently being hidden from public. Chrollo, who would be instantly intrigued to track you down and see for himself what a creature from the Dark Continent is capable of and who would keep you as his most priced treasure the moment the troupe has finally found you after searching for you for a long time. Who has to share with the rest of the Phantom Troupe as your mere presence eventually gets to them too, to some sooner than to others and who notices your mild surprise that they actually work together insted of slaughtering each other, something you must be used to seeing. Chrollo, who shares with you experiences in the Known World and adores listening to your stories about the Dark Continent where you were born.
To make it even more interesting, let's assume that you are caught and kept around the time Hisoka has infiltrated the Troupe. Hisoka, the only member Chrollo doesn't trust to leave you alone and neither do any of the other members. There are usually at least two other spiders with you when Hisoka is around but the clown takes it with slightly infuriated amusement as he gives brief glances in your direction, patiently waiting for the day where he can keep you for himself. He has to give it to Chrollo after all, the man knew just how special you'd be when he decided to go after you. He can't wait to steal you away right under the nose of the criminal~
Another possible scenario would be that the Zoldyck Family is hired to hunt you down and capture you as they were informed that you are akin to an immortal being. Imagine Illumi spending months tracking you down and successfully capturing you, though that is only because you do not resist when he finds you, only to never hand you over to the government. Instead he keeps you, black eyes staring fascinated at you whenever he sees you, his cold skin tingling whenever he touches yours, his chest clenching with a sensation he can't quite grasp. He only knows one thing though. That he needs more of whatever it is he feels when he sees you and touches you.
I've already explored this world with a Tomie reader before in this post but Jujutsu Kaisen would literally be perfect because reader could literally be the enbodiment of the curse of obsession which could be used to explain her immortality. No matter how many times she is killed or even exorcised, she will be reborn for as long as people obsess over someone else, no matter how superficial or deep their feelings really are.
Suguru would be an interesting choice that I didn't talk about in the Hc's I linked since he uses Cursed Spirit Manipulation to control curses. The question would be though whether or not Suguru would be able to exorcise and consume you to enable him to gain control over you and summon you at any given time he wishes. Ironically enough a relationship with you in a scenario where you would be a curse would probably be better for you than if you were human since Suguru doesn't look down on you nor would he judge you for your nature as it is the negative emotions of humans from which you were created. You have shared with him some stories of the past where you were murdered from non-sorcerers when they lost control due to your powers and it only fawns his hatred against the monkeys. There are always sweet promises whispered into your ears that he'll never hurt you like they did and you can only wait half-interested whether or not he will remain true to those words.
We could also go way back in time to the Heian Era and simply crown you as the Queen of Curses who stood by Sukuna's side as obsession over someone else is as ancient as the concept of love in all its twisted and radiant forms itself. For a curse to be so strong that it can even influence other curses would stir Sukuna's interest, though he never expected to fall under your spell himself. He is somewhat displeased that his resistance is that weak as he has had multiple women warming his bed before he consumed them and enjoyed their flesh yet he knows that you are a being that will be reborn even if he kills you. Now that you have done it and seduced him though, he'd much rather have you pay the price for it. From now on you shall be his queen. When he is sealed away, you go into hiding. You feel no deep grief in the centuries that follow, though Sukuna has certainly been more memorable than the thousands of other people that follow him, one as bland as pathetic as the next one. It isn't until the 21st century that Sukuna is finally reincarnated into Yuji's body, thrilled and excited about this chance to finally live again. Now he only needs to find his Queen again...
As someone who just recently finished Chainsaw Man, in this universe the reader could just be a devil who has the form of a young woman. You'd probably also assume the role of the Obsession Devil in that scenario and whilst you could just be a wild devil, I think it'd be much more interesting if you actually work sort of together with the Devil Hunters without being locked away like some other devils are. It's rather rare for you to make contracts yourself even if multiple Devil Hunters have willingly offered limbs, senses and much more to you to form a contract with you as you only accept a contract if you are actually interested in a Devil Hunter. Instead you find yourself often negotiating with other devils to convince them to form contracts with Devil Hunters as your influence to make people infatuated with you even affects other devils.
Extreme femme fatale vibes and interesting scenario would be if it is Makima aka the Control Devil herself who is no exception to your abilities. What would make this so unique would simply be that Makima is, just like her devil suggests, someone who represents the fear of conquest and is a woman who is always in control, no matter the situation. That would so very much contrasts with the fear you represent since an obsession is rarely something that can be controlled and both of you are aware of her feelings she harbors for you. You have little capacity to care about people around you as years of living through the same events again and again have made you jaded towards the very idea of attachment and love but perhaps it is the uniqueness of the situation that perks your interest as she can tell that you are testing the waters with her. Are you willing to play the game with her? You should be prepared for the possible consequences if your answer is yes.
Kishibe is one of the few people who you have ever approached and asked for a contract as he caught your eye when he first joined and decades later he takes pride in the fact that he is the one you have held a contract with for the longest time. Your condition for a contract have always remained the same. The moment the Devil Hunter you were contracted to would stop being interesting to you, you wanted his heart and until that point, you would assist them whenever they desired your help. Some sane people would consider those conditions as nothing short of lunatic yet a Devil Hunter rarely survives if they do not belong to the crazy kind and the first time you approached him, he could already tell why you were as desired as you were by many Devil Hunters. Kishibe has survived for as long as he did precisely because he is a madman and that is why your interest in him hasn't faded to this day. You fulfill his every wish in this contract yet he has held himself back in comparison to some of your previous Devil Hunters, though some things are always the same. Like the few other Devil Hunters who had a contract with you, he proposed to you and it isn't the first wedding you went through yet it is the first time you have let a contract last as long to the point where both of you already had a silver wedding to celebrate 25 years of marriage. You're going to miss this one the most when his time comes...
In One Piece a reader with such mysterious abilities could of course be suspected of having eaten a Devil Fruit but I personally would like you to instead be an ancient being that, according to rumors, originated from somewhere in the New World, though nothing about you has ever been revealed. Throughout history, you have only gotten yourself involved a few times yet whenever you did, you were the demise of entire nations yet the full extent of your powers remains as shrouded in darkness as the rest of you. Only the highest-ranked people in the Marine and are even aware of your existence and the World Government has been after you ever since they were established. Not only are your powers frightening but it is also the knowledge that you hold that has made you the most dangerous being in the Grand Line.
You have watched history unfold in front of your eyes, know about the Ancient Weapons and other events that occured throughout time that no one is supposed to know, know even about the darkest secrets of the Navy and know exactly where the proof for their hidden atrocities lies that would ruin their reputation. Whilst the citizens on every island do not know of your existence, in the Grand Line exist tales of you that parents commonly tell children as bedtime stories where you are usually portrayed as a monster. You know of that but you do not care as an existence as long as yours has taught you best that you are not even remotely a human, though your appearance may fool others into thinking otherwise.
I'm not quite sure yet about individual characters in One Piece yet but since I just recently finished the Marineford Arc, I can't help but imagine that after essentially centuries of laying dormant and only being a silent watcher, you finally decide to take an active role when news of Fire Fist Ace's public execution reaches you. Your eyes and ears are everywhere, you always know what is happening in all different oceans after all, no matter how much the Navy may try to hide it from the rest of the world. Though the news of the execution are not kept as a secret this time and reach ears on every island throughout all of the seas. There are no heroic motives though as you make your way. You're just simply bored and decide that messing with the Marine, the pirates and all the people who will watch it all unfold might be amusing and provide some thrill, even if only temporary. The world is certainly going to shake when they find out that the monster from the fairy tale has always been there yet those who will be exposed to your aura on that day will probably go out of their way to chase you down, pushed by their ever-growing obsession. You do not mind. It has been way too long since you've been entertained by them after all. You're just hoping that at least a few of them will prove to be more than yet another waste of your time...
#yandere hunter x hunter#yandere hxh#hunter x hunter x reader#hxh x reader#chrollo x reader#hisoka x reader#illumi x reader#yandere jujutsu kaisen#yandere jjk#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jjk x reader#geto x reader#sukuna x reader#chainsaw man x reader#csm x reader#makima x reader#kishibe x reader#yandere chainsaw man#yandere csm#yandere one piece#yandere op#one piece x reader#yandere x reader
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"fight, flight or freeze?"
I actually do a fun combo of flight and freeze that results in a kind of zigzag pattern
I relate to deer who don't know how to cross roads
#fight flight or freeze#how about zig zag#i panic and somehow stop and go at the same time#hashtag just deer things#and me things#how am i alive#sabas shitpost
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kinktober - day thirteen
kink: camcorder with minho ft. chan
warnings: smut - MINORS DNI. threesome (kind of), chan is a perv, afab!reader, teensy bit of manipulation
chan didn’t think this would happen when he asked minho to borrow his camcorder a couple days ago - all he wanted was to record some practice videos to upload to youtube. he didn’t think before he took it, didn’t think before he looked through minho’s old footage of his dancing that he keeps for memories, didn’t think before watching what he watched.
it was a video of you. and minho.
in his defense, the storage on the memory card was almost full and chan was just looking for something that could be deleted to free up space - and wouldn’t minho check the storage to see if there was anything he didn’t want chan seeing first? if anything, this is minho’s fault.
sure, it’s minho’s fault that chan is one second away from jerking off to the sight of you getting fucked into oblivion by his best friend, the grainy pixels leaving little to nothing to his imagination. your moans sound tinny from the low quality speakers, minho’s grunts accenting the sounds coming from your mouth as he fucks you up against the studio mirrors. your breath is fogging up from where your face is pressed against the glass, sweaty handprints from the both of you staining the surface. minho better have cleaned those mirrors after that, chan’s delirious mind supplies as he continues watching the footage he should have turned off minutes ago.
the video is from the same angle as their dance practices, the same walls on display and oh fuck chan doesn’t think he’s been this hard in his entire life. that’s the room that he dances in, he’s leaned up against that exact mirror, panting and overexerted, he’s been yelled at by minho for messing up the choreography in that exact place.
he tries. he tries so hard to forget what he saw, to get the image of you shaking apart when you came out of his head. to stop thinking about the way your skin went white from where minho was gripping it. to restrain from gripping his cock in his hand under his blanket with his eyes screwed shut and the symphony of your combined noises playing in his head like a song he couldn’t get off of repeat.
but how could he when he had to go back into that rehearsal room just a few days later to practice? what excuse could he possibly give his members about why he wanted to switch rooms from this one? the room that’s full of their most precious memories, full of laughter and tears and piles of sweaty cuddles on the floor? no, he couldn’t. what he could do was avoid that spot like it was poisonous, standing on the farthest edge of the room after practice was over, chugging water and thinking about how you both have probably fucked on the floor there, or those couches, or by the closet door.
he doesn’t notice you at first, sliding into the room to hand minho a cold water bottle and press a kiss to his cheek. the other members were slowly trickling out, passing tired greetings to you as they shuffled past, eager to go home and shower. when only minho and him were left, you went to approach him only to find his eyes already on you, glazed over at you but not really seeing.
he looks at you and all he can see is the way you were pressed up against the glass, your tits squished but somehow still bouncing, the screwed up features of your face when you were overwhelmed in pleasure. all he can hear are those metallic sounding moans, all he can feel is the urge to fall at your feet-
“bang chan,” minho snaps, jerking chan out of his fantasy. “where is my camera? you’ve had it for a while, i wanted to record the new choreography.”
“oh!” chan is starting to panic, he didn’t think that minho would ask after the camcorder so soon. he didn’t have time to prepare, didn’t have the energy to create an excuse. “there was too much storage on it, so i didn’t get to record what i wanted and i forgot to ask you about it.”
he’s biting his tongue now, cursing himself for saying too much. couldn’t he just have said he would give it back tomorrow?
“i didn’t think about the storage,” minho starts, not sounding like he had anything to hide. did he truly not know about what he had left on that camera for chan to find? “did you see anything interesting?”
he knows. he knows. chan is beginning to sweat, he can feel it in his hair and under his arms and he wants to bury a hole by his feet so he can jump into it and never climb out.
“haha, no,” he says, packing up the rest of his bag so that he didn’t have to look at minho. or you, who’s been silent since you walked in, watching him carefully. for all he wasn’t scared of minho and his adorably empty threats, he was terrified of you. “i didn’t even look. just saw that the storage was full, you know?”
he sounds awkward. he is awkward, right now.
“chan,” you trail a finger down his arm, speaking for the first time since you arrived and he’s gone, your touch leaving raised hairs in your wake. you should be angry, you should be livid, why are you touching him like that- “come over tonight to mine would you? we wanted to have you over for a while, minho wanted to cook for you. and you can give him the camera back then.”
“oh,” chan is sure that his face is flushed completely red by now, but he nods anyways. “sure! i’m free tonight. i’ll be there at seven? or whenever is good for you, i’m free. wait, i said that already-”
“perfect,” minho purrs, taking one of your hands in his and laying the other on chan’s shoulder. “seven is perfect. see you then, chan.”
--
he gets to your place early and sits in his car for 30 minutes, chewing at his fingernails and tapping his leg at an alarming pace. the more he thinks about it the more he overthinks - did they just want to yell at you in private instead of at the company building? did they really not know? what if he confessed and they didn’t know? what if they never speak to you again?
he has to take several deep breaths before leaving his car, and again before he knocks on your door. he’s ushered in by you, bright smiles on yours and minho’s faces as you take the camera out of his hands, and by the time he has a glass of wine in his hand and he’s sitting on the couch while minho puts the finishing touches on dinner he’s almost fully relaxed. he’s been here so many times, your apartment being a refuge to all the boys when they wanted to get away from the dorms for a bit. this is normal.
“let me put something on for us to watch,” you say at the same time minho asks chan if he wanted more wine, and you sneak the camcorder towards the tv while chan was distracted, sniping at minho that no he doesn’t want a second glass he’s not even halfway through the first one. you plug it in, smiling when it connected to the right input immediately. you scroll through the files, fingers calm on the remote even though you were shaking in anticipation inside. when you get to the right file you click on it, turning up the volume.
the image of you and minho takes over the tv, sounds coming out of the tv in a much better quality than what chan had been used to. his head whips towards the tv, wine forgotten and eyes wide as he takes in the video that you put on.
“what?” he asks, almost in a gasp as his eyes flicker back and forth between the tv, you, and minho, who had finally exited the kitchen and joined you in the living room.
“we thought since you loved it so much, we would watch it together,” minho explains, much more casually than one should be when playing a video of them fucking their girlfriend in front of their best friend. “why, is something wrong?”
“i-”, chan cuts himself off, panic choking his voice. “i’m so sorry-”
“hey,” you move towards him, sitting against his side and taking one of his hands in both of yours. “that isn’t what this is about. we don’t mind, okay?”
“we couldn’t let him sputter on for a bit more?” minho pouts, crossing his arms at you. “it was funny.”
“min, be nice,” you scold, smiling at chan.
“channie, i would have beat you up when i found out if i wanted to,” minho relents, siting on chan’s other side, sandwiching him between you both. “she likes that you watched it. i like it. okay? just relax and be good for us.”
minho’s words wash over chan, leaving him in a sort of daze. be good for us, minho had said. he could do that, chan was so good at being good. he melts against the couch, the heat from both of your bodies enveloping him as he takes in the video he’s seen over and over already.
“you planned this?” he asks, breathless and mesmerized.
“of course i did,” minho scoffs, squeezing one of chan’s thighs in his warm hand. “you think i would just let you watch that without planning it? i’m not that stupid.”
you’re not, but maybe i am, chan thinks, and he only realizes that he said it out loud when you start giggling and lean your head into his shoulder to hide your laughter.
he wants to retort, to somehow defend himself, but then video-minho changes his angle and starts fucking video-you even harder than before and whatever words were in his throat stayed behind the lump there.
“do you want to do that to her?” minho asks, hand trailing up chan’s thigh, leaving behind phantom pinpricks of sensation. he lets his blunt nails rake over chan’s leg, the delicate material of his workout pants providing no protection.
“can i?” chan breathes out, looking at you like he’s never seen anything more beautiful.
“please,” you wiggle your legs open a bit, a clear invitation. his hand comes to rest on your thigh and it’s so big, so much bigger than minho’s. he slides it up, to the hem of your oversized shorts, dipping his fingers closer to your panties and -
he stops.
“but, i also want…” he ducks his head down, trying to hide his flush before glancing at minho through his lashes. minho’s brow furrows, confusion clear on his face before he puts it together.
“oh, my channie,” he coos, running a hand through chan’s hair. “we can do that too, i promise. but my girl has been waiting so long for you, you don’t want to make her wait even longer, do you?”
chan shakes his head, entire body swaying with the force of it, reenergized by minho’s promise of more. he turns towards you and you feel your breath leave your body as you turn weighless for a moment, landing back on earth to find yourself straddling chan’s lap.
“you’re strong,” you praise, feeling up his biceps as you get comfy in his lap, ignoring minho’s indignant yelp next to you. chan beams up at you, both of his hands cupping your ass and using it as leverage to pull you closer into him. his dick is hard in his pants, poking against your crotch, and you both let out lewd moans when you grind into him a bit. he glances at minho, a little insecure and still kind of uncomfortable, but minho just pulls him in and kisses him deeply. it’s a sight to see, like a movie playing out right in front of your eyes, the love of your life and his best friend making out right in front of you. chan tenses a bit but melts into the couch even faster, letting minho lead him into blissful submission as he cups his face and moves it right how he wants it.
when they part, chan’s lips are cherry red and so wet, glistening in the light from the lamps decorating the room. you can’t help but kiss him too, licking minho’s essence off of him and reveling in the way he bucks up into you like he can’t help it.
chan slides his lips to the right, peppering kisses to the corner of your lips, across your jaw and down your neck. he sucks at the spot right under your ear that makes you see stars, heat bursting in your lower belly. he was utterly intoxicated by your scent, your clean, floral body wash taking over his senses until he was all but panting into your neck.
it almost hurts to pull back from him, it’s like a stab right to your heart when he makes a wounded noise at the loss of contact, but you need more from him. any thoughts that you might have had of seducing him, of wining and dining him and showing him how much you really wanted him, died out once you felt his hands on you. you’ve been crushing on this man for almost as long as you’ve been crushing on minho, and you weren’t going to give this opportunity any time to ruin itself; you knew chan, knew how his self-consciousness and second-guessing worked, and if you wanted him you needed to take him now before he changed his mind.
you reach for the drawstring on his pants, pulling it open and sticking your hand in, rubbing him through his boxers. next time you’d have more decorum, you’d suck him off until he was right on the edge and make him sob when you refuse to let him come, you’d let him fuck you into the mattress and let him pin you down, but not right now.
“on the couch?” chan asks, eyes wide as they flicker back and forth between you and minho.
“you know we’ve done it in worse places,” minho says, humor lining his words as the lust takes over his eyes at the thought of what was about to happen. a burst of affection takes over you as you look at him, your perfect soulmate who understood you and your desires and shared them with you like you shared everything else.
“never knew you were such an exhibitionist,” chan snipes back at him, gasping when you tug him out of his pants and boxers, the stretch of his waistband making it easy. you only have to stroke him a few times until he’s fully hard, his cock red and leaking where it curves into his lower belly.
“minho, help me,” you ask, blinking at minho through your eyelashes, and he knows what you want immediately; he hooks his fingers through your shorts and panties at once, pulling them down to your knees, just far down enough for you to be able to rub your bare pussy against chan’s cock.
“god, you’re so wet,” he curses, throwing his head back and sighing in time with the movement of your hips.
“for you, channie,” your voice cracks when his cock catches on your clit, and both of them are smart enough not to say anything about it. minho moves though, ever impatient, and lines chan’s cock up against your hole with practiced ease.
“thought about this a lot, did you?” you tease, knowing very well that both of you thought about this a little too much, sharing fantasies in hushes whispers when you were supposed to be asleep. .
minho clicks his tongue and presses himself up behind you, still fully clothed even though his dick was rock hard in his jeans. he places his hands on your hips and pushes you into chan, driving his cock deep into you. you collapse against chan’s chest, a surprised yelp leaving you at the unexpected fullness. chan echoes you, burying his face into your neck with a shudder.
“tease me again and see what i’ll do,” he says darkly, hands still in a death grip on your waist. you take his threat for what it is, knowing that he would follow through with his words, and you start grinding into chan in slow circles. his hands circle your waist, fingers tangled with minho as they let you set the pace.
“please,” chan whimpers, his breath tickling your neck. you want to tease him so badly, but how could you when he asked so politely? you shift your knees further onto the couch, gaining leverage so you could lift your hips higher up. you drop back down onto him and you both moan in unison.
you lift back up and drop down, again and again and again, finding a rhythm that fits both of you perfectly. it’s like a dance, moves that feel practiced and eased, spurred on by minho’s soft whispered praises towards the both of you. the video playing on the tv had reached its end, and every sound coming from you was heightened.
“what a pretty show, all for me,” minho moves away and finally takes his cock out of his jeans, fisting it and immediately starting to stroke himself off at a fast pace. you can’t see him, you miss the warmth of him against your back, but chan can’t take his eyes off of him, transfixed by the sight of his best friend jerking himself off to him and you as you’re bouncing on top of him.
you’re shaking apart on top of chan before you realize it, orgasm taking over you as you continue to ride him. you clench around him hard, and he’s spilling into you a second later, jerky little thrusts shaking your body on top of his. minho curses as he comes a moment later, too keyed up to extend his pleasure for long. this wasn’t about him anyways; at least, not this time.
you lift off of chan with a hiss, sending him a look of sympathy when he shivers in overstimulation. you don’t make it far, pulling him down to lay against you, your back pressed up against his front. both of your pants are still halfway off, but you can’t be bothered to care right now - you’re utterly exhausted, even from just one orgasm.
the both of you barely register minho draping a blanket over you before settling on the floor in front of you, leaning his head on the couch right by where chan’s hands were around your stomach. it’s so domestic, the three of you drifting towards one another so naturally that it just feels right. later, you’d get up and eat the now-cold dinner minho had painstakingly prepared, but for now you were content to lay in comfortable quiet.
“wait,” chan breaks the silence, and you have to resist the urge to groan at him. “how did you know that i watched it? what if the storage really was just full?”
“please, you’re too obvious,” minho teases, voice soft and drowsy, and you can hear the smile in it. “plus, you were watching it in the dorms, idiot. you’re lucky it wasn’t jeongin that caught you.”
--
kinktober masterlist
#stray kids smut#skz smut#stray kids imagines#stray kids drabbles#lee know smut#lee minho smut#bang chan smut#bang chan imagines#minchan#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader
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hi love! i absolutely adore ur writing and u should be so so proud of it. anyway i was just thinking about coworker james when readers car wont start in the parking lot and he like takes a look at it and is under the hood and reader is just like "oh...😍" cause the muscles are OUT and shes down bad
ty lovely 💌 fem
“Oh,” you say, “of course.”
You drop your face into your steering wheel and sigh. An annoyed burst of sound, not cute or feminine or fun, a grunt of defeat. This sucks. Work sucks, life sucks, your car not starting is the least of your worries and yet somehow the most prevalent.
How am I gonna get home? you think to yourself, defeated.
“Hey!” someone calls. Jogging, the last person you want to see in the world right now stopping at your door. James frowns at you. “It’s not starting?”
You pop your door, careful not to pop him at the same time. “How’d you know?”
“I heard the engine turn over.”
“It’s making a clicking sound,” you say, twisting the key so he can hear it.
“It’s dead, probably. Your battery.”
James has an odd way of talking occasionally, as though you’ve started a conversation and he’s adding onto it. Remus says it's ADHD. You like it no matter what it is and despite yourself —it’s getting harder to pretend you don’t like him. Like, you hate him, he’s annoying beyond explanation, but your more positive feelings for him are heavy and ever present. So, so heavy.
“I’ll pull my car up and we can give it a jumpstart,” he says. “Easy fix.”
“You don’t have to go?”
“What?”
“You have rugby today.”
“Oh, no, it's the off season now.” He smiles and you don’t get why. “Let me go get the car.”
James jogs back to his car and brings it next to yours. Everybody who isn’t Human Resources or security has left already, leaving the car park practically empty, ample room for him to park beside you. He gets back out.
“I don’t have, uh, cables,” you say.
James gives you a smile that is as patronising as it is attractive. “Don’t worry about it, beautiful. I have everything you need.”
He feels along the edge of your hood, pops the seal, pushes it up into the air, and hooks the prop rod into place. He’s clearly done it before, and the whole while you’re watching his arm. His rolled sleeves draw attention to the tightness at his bicep, and the moving ligament and muscle of his tricep as he leans into the engine to look things over. “I’m no mechanic, but I do know everything, and I thought maybe things were a bit hot but your engine’s stone cold.”
“So it’s definitely the battery?”
“Probably.” He scratches his jaw, peering curiously into the guts of it all. “When was the last time somebody looked in here?” he asks, squinting at you, unaware that he’s the finest thing you’ve ever seen.
Your breath gets caught.
“Have you ever had it looked at?” he asks, concerned.
“I… maybe I did. I think so.”
“You’re supposed to have it looked at every year? For MOT?”
“I know, I thought you meant before that.” He’s distracting.
James looks you over. “It’s fine,” he says emphatically, “even if I can’t fix your battery, I can still drive you home. You’re panicking for no reason.”
“Right.” Panicking! Yes, this is panic.
“Listen, can you get the jump leads from my boot? I have to open the hood.” He gestures for you to go. You do as he’s asked, wobbly, and struggle when you get there to actually open it. You slides your fingers under his car's emblem and flinch as it flies up past your face.
His boot is surprisingly well organised. There’s a duffel bag to one side half-zipped that showcases a flash of red and white uniform, a pair of formal shoes, a dark jacket folded and hidden behind the bag. You want to be nosey and you don’t want him to think you’re stupid. You rush to grab the cables and almost clip yourself on the boot as you duck from under the boot and round the car.
James smiles when he sees you. No indication that you’re an imposition, it’s sort of like you’re two friends.
He pushes his sleeves farther up and digs in. It’s awful, what business does he have looking so sharply put together? You hadn’t thought you were preferential to muscle until right this moment watching James move around your engine like an expert.
“What are your plans tonight?”
Your palms are hot behind your back. “I was thinking I’d watch a new movie.”
“That sounds fun.” He ducks away from the engine. “I don’t watch many movies.”
“What do you do with all your time?”
“Argue with Sirius about who’s turn it is to wash the dishes.”
You startle. “You and Sirius live together?”
James laughs and pulls the leads to his own engine. “You didn’t know that?”
“You come in different cars.”
“I come in much earlier than he does. And after work he and Remus always have things to do. It’s weird, isn’t it, how couples are always busy? I feel like I never do anything.” James grins at you. “This is interesting, at least. My Friday night isn’t a total waste.”
James gets into his car and you into yours. With some fiddling, pleading, and a strange noise, he manages to push life back into your car. His smile when it works is his worst one to date, elated and shockingly handsome.
That Monday, against your better judgement, you bring him a little carrot cake in a tin. A thank you card felt like too much.
To his credit, he doesn’t brag to anyone that he saved you. He says thank you for the cake with another real smile, and for some reason, despite the mild weather, he rolls his sleeves up at his desk. Almost like he noticed you…
Well, he couldn’t have. Right?
#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter x fem!reader#james potter x y/n#james potter x you#james potter fic#james potter fluff#james potter blurb#james potter drabble#james potter imagine#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter scenario#james potter oneshot#the marauders#marauders era#marauders
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#i want to start this by saying if anyone reads this rant that im not blaming Harry (or Louis) for any of this#the holiva stunt will go down in history as the stunt that made Harry styles look like the biggest piece of shit to ever walk the earth and#i think everyone involved needs a huge ass reality check because even though somehow that movie managed to get $30m#tw panic attack#i cant control what triggers my panic attacks but my god when i have to stop listening to one of comfort artists because of pap pics i get#a little pissed and its not even H(or l bcause i know tht if pics w the kid came out right now the same thing would happen) fault#and i know that i can step away from fandom ive done it before but fandom isn't the problem if anything fandom is helping because other#perspectives are helping me see reason and logic in all this madness & h&l arnt the problem either because i would be the biggest piece of#shit in the world if i blamed them for anything having to do about THEIR closets effecting ME the problem i have is that the music i would#normally go to if my anxiety gets to much consist of h l 1d & 5sos and this isn't the first time ive been stuck like this it happened with#louis and the Christmas pic with the kid i couldn't listen to louis for almost two weeks after that i was just happy it subsided so that i#could see him twice on tour in February i just don't know what to do i feel like i should be mad or angry at something or someone everytime#a stunt triggers an attak and then leads to me not being able to listen to their music but i just feel numb evrytime it happens#does any of this make sense#probably not#anyway#i love Harry and louis so much none of this their fault and for the time being I'll be listening to 5sos5 and btm#if you read this Why?#rant#louis tomlinson#harry styles#fuck olivia wilde#using tags as therapy because i cant afford it
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i'm used to it, and how bad it is, and how often it's so bad that it rings like a bell inside of me, drowning out everything around me. and the truth is that i get frustrated with myself about it - again? we're like this still? again? it's not that i feel weak, precisely. it's just this sense almost like - i've already been pushing against this thing for years now, shouldn't i have gained more ground?
i get frustrated because i'm sick of picking up the loose ends every six months. i get frustrated because it's always this same shit, same problem - i lose myself in a matter of months; spiral out of control, lose touch with friends and loved ones. i stop taking care of myself and therapy gets hard and i let everything around me wilt and shrivel and fall off; start somehow both sleeping too much and not-enough. i panic-attack and cry in my car in a target parking lot, pulling my hair out and hurting my ribs from sobbing so hard - and later, when i'm better, i'm embarrassed because how could i let it get that far?
it feels like - i already have done this so many times. isn't there a way out of it? isn't there a point where i've just... won? that it never happens again, that i just get to be done? maybe this is weakness, i guess - that i still (so often!) succumb.
i am used to it, so i forget exactly how hard it gets. do you even know how many times i've laid in bed, exhausted, blank and numb and listless and said - i can't anymore. i just can't. i'm not even really upset. it's okay. i've been here long enough. so much of my life was beautiful.... i'm just... done.
do you know how many times i woke up and i said - i can't and put my feet on the floor and said i can't, i don't want to and took a shower and walked the dog and bought myself fresh bread and put a nice playlist on and said i really can't, there's no end to this and i went to work and i called a friend and i made myself cookies even if food tasted like ashes and decided that i really should wait for the new album from that artist i love and i thought i can't, it's not worth it and then i washed my hands and cut my hair and drank more water and wrote a poem and signed up for an art class at the local community college and said i can't, i can't, i won't do this again, and i paid my rent and let the dishes rot in the sink but still made myself eat anything fresh even if it meant overdrawing my account on a stupid bag of plums just because they looked delicious and do you know how often i closed my eyes and thought this is it i really fucking can't, something has to give and i have nothing left that it can take and then i went to bed and i got up and i fucking survived anyway
yesterday the local ice cream place opened up for the first time this season and they were giving out tiny samples of their new dairy-free options and i tried a mango sorbet. three months ago i was positive that februrary was going to be my last month on the planet. i am teaching my dog a new trick and i just discovered a new band i love. i got a plant from the clearance aisle and repotted her and she's been perking up. i made salmon for alison and we ate it in her new house with her new beautiful baby girl. my manager told me he keeps recommending my work to others just because i always include a stupid number of puns. tomorrow i'm trying a new dance class. tomorrow i'm maybe going to buy more plums.
i forget, you know? it's not some bone-deep strength or some magical power. it's that some part of me knows - i need to stay. in all of this; out of all of this - i just want to choose love.
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— game over ღ
pairing: yoongi x reader
genre: exes to lovers
warnings: yandere, mentions of blood and murder, kidnapping, restraints, corruption, manipulation, obsession, angst, implied imprisonment, dub con, praise, degradation, dirty talk, hints of fear kink, spanking (like once), rough sex, creampie, implied multiple orgasms
The floor creaked quietly under a pair of heavy boots. You kept your eyes on them as he moved towards you, too stubborn to look up, and too frightened not to tremble.
"Oh, sweetheart," Yoongi cooed, crouching down in front of the bed. "I'm so sorry it took so long. Can't have the cops tracing my steps, can I?"
His fingers felt cool as he grasped your chin, and yet they did nothing to soothe the heat blooming through you. He smelled like snow, his cheeks rosy from the unforgiving bite of winter air.
Tilting your head, he kissed your taped mouth with utmost tenderness, like he wanted to leave a love note on the silver.
"Cold?" He murmured, noting the chills that erupted down your arms, his fingertip tracing their journey to your elbow.
In the golden glow of candlelight, with nothing but the pearly tape adorning your body, somehow, you weren't cold. Only uncomfortable, left sitting in the same position for what seemed like hours — knees bound to your chest, wrists tied together — though that was certainly the least of your problems.
"I'll untape your mouth now. Don't scream."
You shut your eyes as he reached upwards. A quick rip followed, the sting making you wince.
"Sorry," Yoongi soothed, stroking your hair, "Sorry, baby."
You didn't scream. It was pointless. He drove a long time to get here, civilization outside the tinted windows dwindling mile after mile. You had no doubt there was nowhere you could go, no one to hear your pleads for help. You'd sooner freeze to death trudging your way through the snow.
The arrogant smile playing on Yoongi's lips was infuriating. He looked like he could devour you, a cat that has finally caught its mouse.
"Good girl," he praised lowly, twirling a strand of your hair around his finger.
Your stomach flipped.
"Let me go."
It came out as a whisper.
His eyebrows raised, head cocking to the side. Probably not the smartest thing to come out of your mouth, but what else were you supposed to do? Accept your fate as his little pet?
Yoongi released the soft strand, as if he got burned.
"I've been locked up for half a year... And this is how my girl greets me?"
His girl.
Why was he doing this to you? You barely dated for a few months before he chopped up two men who have been bold enough to bother you. Parts of their bodies were still in the process of being found all over the south of Seoul.
Were you going to end up the same?
You swallowed the knot in your throat, willing your heart to stop pounding. No words came, your thoughts too frantic to make sense of.
Yoongi clicked his tongue.
"The usual bratty attitude I can handle. But silent treatment? I can't fucking stand it. Your stupid little friends had enough time to convince you I wasn't good for you, huh?"
"You did that yourself!" you suddenly shouted, eyes brimming with tears. They spilled over, dripping down your collarbone. "You killed people, kidnapped me like some fucking lunatic!"
Yoongi stared at you as you sniffled. Once the dam broke, the fear broke loose too, pouring all over your lungs, making it hard to breathe. Panic started setting in. You had no idea if your outburst was going to be punished, even though in the short time that you knew Yoongi, he had never caused you any harm.
If you ever knew him at all.
He narrowed his eyes. You hated the vulnerable position he forced you into, hated how his gaze felt like a phantom touch.
"I didn't kill any people. I got rid of trash, and I did it all for you. To protect you."
He buried his face in his hands, hiding the shine of his own tears.
"Fuck. Are you actually scared of me right now? I would never hurt you."
What did it matter? Nothing about this love was healthy, and you longed to rip your heart out of your lungs to numb the feeling. You couldn't do this; couldn't let him taint your morals, or at least, couldn't let him see that he started.
All you had to do was convince him, and then yourself.
It didn't matter. It didn't matter. It didn't matter.
"I hate you," you whispered.
Yoongi froze for a moment, then looked back up at you slowly. You stared right back into his eyes through your wet lashes, no longer disturbed by their dark depths. A flash of uncertainty passed through his expression, promptly replaced by a cryptic calmness.
He hummed, shrugging his jacket off.
"Let's play a game, then."
Your stomach jumped when he placed his palm on your shoulder, slowly turning you away from him.
His lips inched towards your ear, hot breath brushing over its shell.
"I don't believe you, not for a fucking second. But I'll entertain you."
You stared at the shelf in front of you, the melted candle wax and golden jewelry laid out beside red roses. The bouquet looked small and miserable after you threw it at him.
You felt just about the same; small. Helpless as he hovered behind you, his intentions unclear, your fate even more so. Your pulse quickened as seconds ticked by.
A loud gasp escaped you as he pushed you forward. Your head spun from the suddenness of the action, cheeks instantly burning and knees trembling.
You fell face first into the silk sheets, ass up, like a little doll for him to use. He had to hold on to your hip so you didn't tumble. You've never felt so powerless before, so stripped of your dignity, or so hot when you heard him unbuckle his belt.
The adrenaline rush intensified your emotions, made your throat close up. Only a whimper passed through your panicked breathing.
"Look at that," Yoongi murmured. "You're dripping already."
You flinched as you felt his finger run down your folds, clenching needily. Everything was happening too fast—
"I missed you too."
No preparation, no warning; one moment you were empty, and the next you were full.
He groaned, leaning over you, dropping his forehead onto your back, and his hand in between your thighs.
The stretch hurt. You could feel his cock twitching inside you, hard and thick as you pulsed around it.
No mercy, no patience; he started fucking into you, choked groans and wet smacks filling up the room. His fingers quickly parted your slick folds, rubbing into the little nub between them to ease the pain.
It worked — it bloomed into a searing pleasure that made your tummy and your vocal cords quiver, soft, helpless whines fleeing your lips.
"Fuck," he cursed, his voice broken, "fuck, you were made for me."
You shivered, finding yourself unable to fight against the restraints he put on you. Nevermind the tape; it was your soul that was truly imprisoned, and that made everything ten times worse.
His lips touched your ear again.
"If you don't come," he whispered, panting softly, "I'll let you go. But if you do, you will stay with me forever, do you get that, baby?"
Was this the game?
Fear clutched your heart in its iron fist, mingled with your most private, forbidden desires and desperate needs, made your eyes and your pussy wetter.
He reveled in it all.
"Go on," he taunted, "show me how much you hate me."
You did hate him.
Because nothing else made you feel like this, no matter what your friends said, no matter what seemed right or wrong. The blood on his hands dripped like an offering, all for you, a threat and a promise that predators loved, too, that they'd kill to protect their own. There was no life for him without you.
You urged yourself to hold on, to not give into your weaknesses. But it was hard when you were already tightening around him, on the brink of delirium and craving more.
"Yeah, there she is," Yoongi breathed. "My dirty little slut. My good fucking girl."
You cried out, your entire body tensing up. His cock throbbed inside you, rutting into you faster.
"Almost there? Are you gonna gonna let me keep you, baby? Chain you the fuck up like a good bitch?"
He was so close, playing dirty just to tip you over the edge, just to prove that you belonged to him. Hands curling into fists, you made an effort to focus, whining out a "no" that sounded pathetic even to your own ears.
"Yeah," Yoongi moaned. "Filthy fucking liar."
His fingers dug deeper into your hips, the hard grip marking your skin, planting the memory of this moment beneath it. Bruises would blossom tomorrow, and he wished he could see them all over you, a violet garden that grew from his love. Yet all he could do was slam into you faster, abuse that little spot inside you that his cock reached with way too much ease.
"Stop fighting it," he grunted, landing a sudden slap on your ass. "You're mine."
The harsh sting, the cursed words, the heat — it was all too much. The tension stirred and coiled in your abdomen, making black dots dance around your vision. Your cunt squeezed his cock desperately, barely allowing him to continue fucking you.
As if you were under water, everything became blurred, and soaked, with tears, with sweat and the orgasm rushing through you, encouraged by his filthy groans. So wet you didn't even realize he was coming too, until he stilled entirely, spilling inside you as you limped.
You listened to his breathing slow, your body thrumming, head pulsing with blissful nothingness. Too high and too weak to do anything but breathe with him.
A kiss was pressed into your spine.
"Mm... Should I give you one more chance?"
At that, you seemed to come back to your senses, breath hitching and eyes open wide.
Yoongi smirked, running his fingers along the tape softly.
"Let me grab a knife, pretty. I'll get you nice and comfy."
You almost flinched when he leaned over you again, his cock jerking and hardening in your sensitive hole.
"You did so well," he whispered into your ear. "Such a good, little bitch. I'm so in love with you."
A weak shudder went through you, ending with an ache right in between your legs.
Yoongi nuzzled your neck.
"Yeah, there you go. Don't you worry. We have all night to play."
Was it fair to play games one was destined to lose? Probably not, but unfortunately for you, that made it all more exciting to Yoongi. He wanted you to see yourself fail over and over, realize there was no running from your love.
It seemed you were about to.
He slipped out of you gently, biting his lip and watching his cum dribble out of you. His hand slid down to your ass, giving it a few, tender pats.
"Sit tight, sweetheart."
With that, he left you on his bed, again, ruined and aching and beyond lost. You heard him rummage through his drawers somewhere in the cabin, heard your heart beating in your own skull.
For some reason, you had a feeling this was just the beginning of a whole eternity. Hit play. Lose. Repeat. Try another level. Until your bones turned to dust and you were wrapped up in each other six feet under the ground. There was a sadistic side to Yoongi that seemed to enjoy the process, the struggle, the conquering of your mind.
Not surprising in the slightest; all dangerous creatures liked to play with their prey. Even more so when they loved it... And Yoongi would never stop loving you.
taglist 💌: @baalsgurl1913 @httpsbts @hoseokshobagi @pynkgothicka @ar14dna @sweetempathprunetree @blueberryarchive @messyjk @themochiverse @minyoongiboongi @chimmisbae @crisle19 @bangtans-momma @bnagtanx1306 @get-that-brain-working @babycandy111 @shyygrl
#again sorry to the person I couldn't tag ❤️#yandere bts#yoongi x reader#bts x reader#bts reactions#bts imagines#bts scenarios#bts smut#yoongi smut
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some angst with joost (with an happy ending pls)
A/n: I can actually write something over 1k words? Also I think the end is poorly written, so bear with me. xdd
Where have you been?
Joost Klein x fem!reader
English is not my first language, so feel free to point out any mistakes or errors! More posts here.
Warnings: maybe some abandon issues (I'm really bad at this..)
Wc: 1253
---
Joost was locked in his room all day. You didn't blame him. He was gaining popularity and he was doing everything he could to make the most of it. But you also were scared for him. These last few days were a lot.
He was stressed and you just wanted to help him. To give him some break from work. But he didn't want one.
"Joost? I made you some tea." You said and opened the door from his work room. He didn't say anything, he was still staring at the same spot on his computer. You didn't know if he was ignoring you or if he was really that busy with work.
You put the cup down on his desk and came behind him. Wrapping your arms around his shoulders. He still said nothing.
"How is it going Joost?" You asked, truly curious about his work.
"Good." He replied, it was short and without any sweet playfulness that you loved.
"That's good." You whispered, with a small smile that was more forced than happy. He was just busy with work, you were repeating in your head, all and all over again.
"Do you wanna..." you began, "maybe, take a little pause from work?" You felt him tense up under your hands just as you finished.
"Y/n, I have some work to do, can you stop?" Joost angrily remarked.
"I didn't mea-" you didn't even finish the sentence, as Joost turned around and pulled out of your embrace. His face and eyes were hard, he was really mad.
"I told you to stop bothering me." He spatted at you. "Don't you have anything to do? Or bother?" The more he continued, the more it hurt.
Inside of your head, you began to panic. What have you done? What were you going to do now?
You didn't say anything, didn't do anything, just looked down and slowly left the room, softly closed the door behind you.
Why would he do that? You just wanted him to take a break, nothing more. Were you really that annoying?
You made your way out of the house, leaving all things behind. Including your bag, phone and most importantly a keys.
You had to clean your head. You didn't really realised you were crying till you touched your face. Where am I going? You thought, you just simply didn't know anything right now.
And the fact that it was getting darker as night approached, didn't help much. You made your way to the nearest park where you and Joost, from time to time, spent some moments together. You sat down on the bench, and just looked around.
You were enjoying the quiet atmosphere around you, but your thoughts were traitorous. Telling you all the bad things, even though they weren't true and real, only you were real, right now, at this moment.
As the night came, you still sat at the same place. You were playing with the rings on your fingers, as the cold slowly started to absorb you whole.
And then you heard it. The soft call. Someone was calling you, your name.
"Y/n!"
Where was it coming from? Who was calling you?
"Y/n, where are you!"
It was getting closer. He was getting closer. Joost. You could say something, anything, but you had no strength to do that. You lowered your head back down, doing nothing.
"Y/n-" Joost stopped in mid sentence as he saw you sitting all alone on the bench. He ran to you and as soon as he stood in front of you, he slowly crouched down and put his hands on your knees, where you were playing with your fingers.
"Hey..." Joost whispered, but now it was you who were silent. You didn't even look at him.
"I-I, I'm-m-" he was struggling to somehow put the whole sentence together.
"I-i'm sorry Y/n. I'm so s-sorry." He began and looked down on the ground. "I shouldn't have yelled and been mean to you, it wasn't fair...to you, you were just trying to help me." As he continued, he put his head on your knees, you felt him shaking and your heart broke a little, but he hurt you.
But he also knew about your traumas. You told him how you can't handle it mentally when someone yells at you, and he promised you to never do that, just to break that promise.
"I'm so sorry Y/n. I really am." Joost whispered. “I was just stressed a-and I know that it doesn't change anything I said, but I'm still so sorry."
He broke in front of you. Crying by your legs.
"Can you say something...?" He whispered. And then he felt as you took your hands away from his own and he feared the worst. He didn't want to hear it, to go through another loss of someone he loves, but now just because of his stupidity.
He wrapped his arms around your legs, now wanting to let you go. But what he didn't expect was you to put your hands in his soft, blonde hair and started massaging his scalp.
"I forgive you." You whispered. Joost raised his head and looked you in your eyes with his red ones from crying. It took him some time to realize what he'd done, and when he went to apologize, you were nowhere to be found.
This panic that washed over him, he didn't feel it for a long, long time. When he tried to call you, he heard your phone ring in the kitchen, where you left it, along with other stuff he knew you wouldn't leave the house without.
So he went searching for you, and all the places you could have been. He was also asking other people if they saw you, but they didn't. His last hope was a park. It was where you met. You were there, and when he saw you, he felt like he could finally breathe again.
"You...forgive me?" Joost couldn't help, but ask. His arms lose a bit around your legs, but it was still strong enough to keep you in place.
"I forgive you." You repeated and took his face in your hands."I know you have it hard right now, but I just, I don't know...got scared a-and left. I shouldn't have done that. To scare you like that too." You felt his fresh tears as you spoke to him. He was really scared you would leave him too.
"I should be the one apologizing to you." Joost's voice cracked and then he kissed your palm. "You're not going to leave me, are you?" He asked with his crystal blue eyes.
That question made you panic. "No, of course not. I could never." He is the love of your life, you couldn't just leave him.
"Let's just go home. I'm really cold." He stood up and pulled you in a hug. He didn't care about anything as long as you were with him, in his arms. Joost was repeatedly kissing the top of your head, with one hand in your hair and the other around you.
You heard him keep muttering how sorry he was, but you already forgave him. Now he just needed to forgive himself.
"Here, take my jacket." He said and took his jacket off as he let you go. As soon as you had it around you, he took your hand back in his and together you made your way home.
---
Part 2? Idk...any ideas?
Don't copy or translate my work! Also the picture is not mine! Credit goes to owner!
#joost klein x you#justice for joost#joostice#joost klein#x reader#k0juki's stuff 🩷#x female!reader#joost klein x reader#europa#europe#eurovision#joost klein x fem!reader
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he looks like he works with his hands (part 1/2)
pre-outbreak!joel miller x reader | 4.6k words
cw: 18+ MINORS DNI, AFAB reader, , age gap, ex-babysitter reader, oral fem-receiving, pussy drunk joel, manhandling, abusive ex-boyfriend, some violence, protective joel, panic attack, anxiety
a/n: alright listen up, i seem to have a thing for joel giving y/n head first and then getting his fill, that being said expect a very detailed part two :) this first part is mostly plot and some smut, i plan on making this a two parter but it might be longer
“jesus christ almighty” joel muttered under his breath taking in your frame from where he stood leaned against his truck. he knew you were coming to visit, sarah had screamed when you called and nearly given him a heart attack. you were back in austin for grad school, the sweet girl you were you visited sarah as soon as you moved in. you had babysat sarah the summer after you graduated high school and one summer of freshman year, but then your parents moved near your out-of-state college and you never came back. and now you here you were torturing every breath exhaling out of joel’s lungs.
you were dawned in a denim mini skirt and a tight short-sleeved top that fell a bit short of the suggestion of fabric. your midriff was exposed slightly, showing off your honey smooth skin and your legs on display. it would’ve been completely suited for the scorching texas heat, but joel felt his head swim as the clothes clung to your curves and your face lit up after recognizing him.
“joel! you haven’t changed a bit!” your cheeks flushed as you bounded your way up the driveway. joel had to clench his teeth to stop from looking at the bounce that wasn’t just in your step.
“that a good thing I hope? you look well kid.” joel didn’t know why he added that last part, maybe it was a silent reminder to himself that the last time he’d seen you you were just a kid, and whatever he was feeling had to go. he didn’t notice the way your expression dropped a little at the word, you quickly disguised it with a teasing smile.
“thanks and yeah don’t worry sarah keeps you young, well as young as you could be.” you nudged him, moving towards the front door as he huffed out a laugh and you hated the butterflies that followed. you’d been a little bit in love with the man ever since that summer. god you had missed his voice, rough and deep and somehow still filled with all the confidence you wish you had. joel watched you walk to the front door like you were visiting a friend’s place and he had to admit he liked the notion.
joel followed you close behind as he picked out his belongings from his truck. sarah ran down the stairs and you laughed a little bit as she jumped into your arms. joel had to laugh at the theatrics, if he had known better it looked like you were visiting between deployments. “you’re so pretty, how did you get prettier?” sarah rushed out, excited and barely breathing as she spoke. joel couldn’t help but smile when his sweet daughter looked so excited.
“well, i don’t know about all that. i was gonna say the same to you, you grew up into a beautiful young lady. my little sarah’s all grown up.” you brushed a piece of her hair back, just like you remembered she liked it. joel felt his heart warm a little at that, even if it had been years since he’d seen you, you still cared for sarah just as much and that mattered to him. maybe you weren’t the stranger he thought you were. you and sarah caught up in the living room, joel sat and listened interjecting every now and then with questions of his own. you liked the feeling of being with them. you were across the country from your family now, so this semblance of family was all you could cling to. you blushed at the thought that made you could raise sarah like a daughter.
joel had trouble focusing when you shifted in your seat, your mini skirt not doing well to hide the maddening baby pink panties you had on. he was sure he was red, but he could explain that away by heat or a tan if he needed to. you weren’t any better, losing your focus when you saw him cross his muscular arms.
“do you wanna stay for dinner?” sarah asked and your face pouted a little as you braced yourself to disappoint the girl. her big brown eyes clung onto every word you said when you spoke next.
“i really would love to and thank you so much for the offer sarah-bear, but my highschool friends roped me into drinks with them at 9.”
“have dinner first, you shouldn’t drink on an empty stomach.” he said it like it was a command less than a question, his voice gruff and your mouth dried up as you nodded obediently.
joel had asked tommy to pick up food on his way over, you hadn’t realized that since it was friday night you would be interrupting their family night. when you asked joel if it was fine for you to stay he leveled you with a pointed look, “don’t be ridiculous doll.” and you shut well up at that. doll. it wasn’t quite what you needed but it wasn’t kid. doll you could work with. doll would creep its way into your dreams and the hours before sleep when your core burned from need, from a hunger for him.
with that you sat down and chatted with tommy and he was just the same, hotheaded but kindhearted over everything. he spoke it like he saw it and tommy got kicked in shin by his dear big brother when he took one look at you and said “dam-“ you couldn’t even hide your expression in time, making joel snicker.
dinner felt normal, as if you hadn’t stepped through the door after 4 years. tommy had gone through some girlfriends while joel had remained single. you would hold onto that fact like the last hope for your sanity. sarah was in middle school now, she had troubles of her own. you listened to her gossip like it was your own, interjecting with your own advice, and joel couldn’t understand how you were so enraptured by it. maybe there were some things he just couldn’t help sarah with.
after what felt like far too short of a dinner, you had to make your way to the pub. you helped clean up with joel while tommy and sarah sat in the living room.
“do you need a ride?” you rotated the thought in your mind, you being stuck with joel in a small space. you’d rather not, after all your roommate promised that you had a ride home.
“i was just gonna drive over and my friend is picking us all up after.”
“alright take my number just in case.” you flushed at his words, he kept demanding you do this and that and because you were fucking gone for him you listened. it was his voice you told yourself, not his heady musk or his big brown eyes staring you down. you let him write his number down on a piece of paper and you nodded with a meek thanks as you took it from him. his hand brushed against yours it was so much larger than yours, they had calluses and scrapes on them. you had always admired joel for his work, and his hands showed exactly how hard he worked for his daughter. you’d thought about his hands more often than you’d admit over the years.
you gathered your belongings from where they were strewn about over the couch, joel had to hold back a groan as you bent over a little too much for his sanity. you said goodbye to tommy and hugged sarah telling her you’d be over more often since she wasn’t far now. joel considered asking you to babysit again but he didn’t want to detract from your studies. if you offered he wouldn’t turn it down. sarah was adamant she didn’t need one but he’d rather you look after her than his well-intentioned bible-thumping neighbors.
joel felt like he’d already crossed the line of friendly employer or even anything you two had before so he had to stop himself from insisting you take one of his jackets to wear out. it wouldn’t get cold but you’d be drunk and probably chillier than you realized, not to mention a small part of him wanted you to cover up when you went out. joel very pointedly ignored that incessant primitive part of his mind.
he did however watch until you got into the car and drove away, as if something would happen to you between the short walk over. your heart was beating as you left the miller’s house. you would have to shake joel’s scent and gruff voice out of your senses, you could feel them seeping into your bones making your head dizzy.
you needed to drink.
catching up with your high school friends was the distraction you needed. you had been in contact with them through the years but there was nothing close to being in front of them. hours ebbed and flowed as you drank and chatted. you felt a buzz but you weren’t drunk, your lips were loose as you told them how your high school crush had returned with more force than ever.
the drinks weren’t enough to dissuade the panic that dripped down from your head as your eyes landed on a familiar figure entering the bar. your ex-boyfriend had just walked in and your body went into flight or fight. your friends noticed your gaze and groaned as they took in your issue. your friend was speaking, their words far away and faded, only when they shook your arm did you hear them, “y/n are you okay, we can leave?” you didn’t want your friends to end their reunion because of you, if he approached you, you would just leave by yourself.
“i’m fine, hopefully he doesn’t recognize me.” you doubted it very much, he had tormented you for two years and took any chance to continue after you broke up. despite your anxiety being spiked you managed to make conversation with your friends, speaking quietly so as to not bring attention to yourself. it all became too much when you flinched when he looked in your direction. you were feeling more anxious than ever, excusing yourself to the bathroom to collect yourself.
as you walked away you broke into a run, scared that he would see you and follow you. instead of feeling better you felt anxiety wrack your body as you practically slammed into the bathroom. all your memories of your relationship flooded into your mind as you entered a stall and felt your breathing stop and your head rush as your vision blurred. you were having a panic attack and your heart was beating irregularly, were you dying? oh god, your hands shook as you pulled out the piece of paper joel had handed you earlier and your cell phone and typed in the number without thinking. it was now 11:30pm, joel was probably asleep. you couldn’t stop yourself as your shaking fingers pressed call
two dials later and the call connected, “joel i’m sorry for bothering you but could you pick me up.” you rushed out, your breathing labored as you struggled to calm yourself down.
“hey sweetheart, calm down, where are you? i’m coming over.” you felt tears prick your eyes as you tried to listen to his soothing cadence and his assured words. sweetheart. you were joel miller’s sweetheart, you could get through this.
“i-i’m at Donn’s, my ex is here im in the bathroom right now.” your voice sounded weak, you sounded like a scared little kid and it made you cringe, meanwhile joel was feeling anger rise at your statement. he had remembered how awful the kid was, he’d kept his thoughts to himself but when you eventually broke up everyone was happy about it. he was already out the door when you spoke, now he’d be speeding.
“i’m on the way, stay on the phone, what did you have to drink?” you wiped your stray tears as you felt your anxiety subside, joel’s voice and the distance you had put between your ex and yourself, grounding you. you babbled to joel, every now and then he’d throw in a follow-up question or a hum of acknowledgment, it all felt so normal you ached to talk to him like this more often. joel was calming you down, keeping you distracted, he was the only thing keeping you from another panic attack and you almost sobbed at that over the phone.
“hey joel?”
“yeah doll?” a shiver traveled down your spine at the pet name. you were so gone for him.
“thank you for this, i owe you.”
“you don’t owe me anything, i’d do it again.” you don’t know if that was joel’s southern hospitality or if he really meant it, either way you’d let that statement soothe you.
“i’m almost there, just pulling into the parking lot, take your time coming out alright, i’ll meet you inside?” you could hear him pulling into the parking lot rather quickly, you exhaled slowly as you told him you were coming and exited the stall. you quickly made your way to your friends, telling them you weren’t feeling well and that you would be heading home early. you told them that joel was picking you and you would’ve laughed at their reaction if not for the anxiety crawling back up your spine.
you waved them goodbye moving towards the door when your vision was blocked, you looked up to meet the eyes of your ex. your stomach dropped as your mouth went dry and you opened to speak, to try and get away but you were frozen in place. “hey babe, you miss me?”
“i’m not your babe.” you gritted out, trying to move past him when he raised an arm across your middle and you felt like throwing up.
“come on you’re still mad? i was just a kid.” anger bubbled up in your throat and your eyes stinged from frustration.
“get away from me.” you hated his touch, you wanted to scrub your body and push away the memories it brought back.
“such a fucking bitch, you still think you’re too good for me huh? you’re still as busted and arrogant as ever.” your vision was blurring and you couldn’t breathe, you looked down to your feet wishing that you could be anywhere but here.
“y/n.” joel’s voice brought you back to reality, you looked up, looking over your ex’s shoulder to see joel. he took one look at your watery eyes and crushed expression and saw red. your ex turned to meet joel’s glare.
“who the fuck is this?” you didn’t speak, your voice was caught in your throat but you took his distraction as a chance to move away. you quickly moved around him, standing next to joel as your ex turned towards both of you.
“let’s go.” joel ignored him, looking at you and trying not to break the fucker’s jaw. you could see joel was seething, his chest rising and falling and his brows furrowed in anger. you’d never seen him so upset, and you knew it wasn’t pointed at you because his eyes softened when they met yours.
“hold on pal i’m talking to you, you fucking her? she’s a slut don’t waste your time.” your ex put a hand on joel’s shoulder, trying to charm him and joel took one look at the guy before landing his fist square in his jaw. your ex dropped in a blink of your eye and you gasped as joel ground out a threat.
“don’t talk to her ever again, you hear?” your ex nodded furiously from where he lay on the ground, rushing out a yes in between a string of curses. you let joel pull you away, your ex crying out and wailing in pain as you left. you couldn’t think as you followed joel, his hand on yours. it enclosed yours fully, rough and warm around your hand and you let it distract you.
joel miller had just punched your ex and rescued you, you couldn’t think straight blinded by one thought and one thought only. you just wanted to-your hands found his face as you stopped in front of the passenger door, you moved quickly as you pressed a chaste kiss to his lips. joel’s expression changed from anger to confusion and then something else you couldn’t place in the streetlight lit parking lot. and then you felt panic as he didn’t look particularly happy with your actions.
“i’m sorry we can forget-“ you leaned against the closed door, removing your hands and creating some distance for him.
“no darlin’ don’t apologize, just wondering if you’ll remember this tomorrow.” joel could taste whiskey on your lips, he wasn’t sure he could live with himself if he took advantage of you being drunk.
“joel, i’ve never felt more sober.”
“good.” he took the hand that had been holding yours, the one that didn’t touch your ex and tilted your chin up, and your eyes met his. they were looked like honey and you wanted to swim in them. joel leaned his head, brushing his lips against yours and you could feel his facial hair scrape against your soft skin. it lit a fire within you. your arms came up around his neck, his hand moving to the small of your back, deliciously pulling you closer and you gasped into his mouth. joel tasted like heaven, just his breath alone was making you dizzy as you let him explore your mouth and make your lips mold to his. despite his intimidating exterior, joel kissed you like you were the only person on earth, taking his time to draw gasps from you and when his mouth moved off yours to dip under your jaw you lost your mind. your hands came up to press his head into the space between your head and your chest, as he littered your skins with kisses and nips. you whined out his name, your legs shaking as you raked your hands through his hair, probably leaving it as a mess. you opened your eyes to take him in, his lips puffy and his hair a mess, his breathing was as hard as yours and his big brown eyes had darkened.
“joel, please.” your hands were still in his hair, as you whispered into the fraction between your lips between sloppy kisses.
“please what doll?” did you have to say it? joel could read your mind, your thoughts written on your face from your cloudy eyes to your parted puffy lips. you looked wrecked and all he had done was kiss you. joel didn’t think he could hold back much longer, but he wanted you to be sure. you shivered as he leaned back, his warmth leaving you and his piercing gaze making you squirm. you managed to cough up the courage to speak next.
“come back to my place, my roommate is at her boyfriend’s place.” joel’s eyes flashed with desire, his hand shooting out to your hip, grazing the exposed patch of skin above your skirt and opening the passenger door. you shivered against at the feel of his hand against you, god you were pathetic but at least you could blame it on the slight chill of the night.
“get in.” you didn’t think twice as you turned to get in, joel holding the door open for you and feeling his sanity crumble when your damn skirt hiked up again. when joel got into the car you began to take in everything that happened.
“is your hand okay?” he’d been carefully keeping it away from you and when he was driving. it didn’t look broken under the city lights but you could bet it hurt.
“yeah it’s fine don’t worry.” he showed you to prove his point, besides some bruises on his knuckles, his hand did look fine.
“you, uhm thank you.” you couldn’t articulate just how much it all meant to you and you didn’t know how to start thanking him for every single thing he did. joel nodded at your words, not really thinking he needed to be thanked.
“if he ever comes near your again, or if anyone talks to you like that, you come to me alright?” you swallowed down, meeting his gaze at the red light. you felt heat travel south, the prospect of joel being there for you if anyone disrespected you made you clench your legs together. pressure building in your core, joel had to hold back a smirk as he watched you squirm in the seat.
“yeah i will.” your voice sounded breathy, your heart was beating so fast in your chest you wanted the car ride to be over so you could feel his lips against yours again. you needed him so badly your hands itched to find home in his hair again.
the rest of the car ride was silent, only interrupted by you giving him directions to get to your apartment.
you made your way to the apartment with joel following you closely behind, his eyes not moving from the view of your curves. you unlocked your door, throwing your pursed on your couch and turning towards joel, he took in your place. there were unopened boxes strewn about and minimal furtiniture but the place was plenty big for two students.
“can i get you something to drink?” you stood against the back of your sofa, looking at joel when he met your gaze. his stepped towards you, hands finding purchase on your hips, his thumbs grazed your skin and you felt dizzy looking into his eyes.
“just you.” confusion flashed on your face replaced quickly by awe as joel sank to his knees in front of you, looking up at you for any sign of disapproval. you nod, in a daze, joel presses kisses up your legs as you lean back on the sofa for support, your legs feeling weak at the sight of him kneeling in front of you. you couldn’t believe this was happening.
joel’s face was at the height of your pussy, his hands on your hips to pull down your skirt, and you whined at the feeling of his hands on you, moving you to his will. you'd fantasized about the rough pads of his fingers against your clit, scraping against you relentlessly until you unfolded for him. joel pulled them down in one swift motion and was met with the sight of your infuriating hot pink panties. “fucking hell these have been torturing me all day.” you found your voice moments later as you processed what he said.
“you like them?” his fingers traced the edges so gently, punctuating your sentence with a snap of the waistband against your hip, you gaspedz
“like isn’t the word i’d use but they definitely made an impact,”
“i wore them for you.” you were barely processing your thoughts before they were spilling out of your mouth.
“yeah? you’re flattering me sweetheart.” joel’s fingers ghosted over your pussy making you twitch under his barely there touch.
“no i mean it, i’ve wanted you ever since i’ve known you.” you were leaning into his touch, preening at the small contact, joel’s lips twitched at your desperation.
“god amn’t i too old for you?,” joel wanted so badly not to think that what he was doing was wrong, but when you looked at him like that he couldn’t help but feel a bit guilty. you should’ve been with someone your own age.
“joel please, you're the hottest man i’ve ever known.”
“such a sweet talker baby, that’ll get you places.” your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he kissed your clit over your underwear, you clenched on air when he called you baby. if he didn’t touch you, you might just come in your underwear.
“i hope s-so, oh god.” you whined out as he stuck his tongue out dampening the spot where your clit was, the pressure of his tongue on your clit even over the fabric made you moan. you felt like crying from his teasing, it was becoming too much for you. and joel sensed it as he pulled your underwear down on one swift moment, leaving you bare centimeters from his face.
“so pretty, angel.” you whined out, your hand coming down to intertwine in his brown curls, trying to ground yourself. joel tapped the inside of your knee, silently asking you to widen your stance while the other hand, the one he had just used to punch your ex clasped around the back of your other knee and lifted it over his left shoulder. you gasped at the spread, at the feeling of being so exposed for him but joel didn’t give you a chance to think too hard about it. his mouth pressed against your clit and you gasped at his mustache grazing your sensitive skin. on top of the maddening desire you had for him he was scratching against you, adding to your craze.
joel sucked on your clit, his tongue circling and stroking you until you cried out his name, he wasn’t letting you off so easily as his mouth moved south. his tongue licked up your folds, his mouth collecting all the arousal that threatened to drip for you. as if he was a dehydrated and starved man, joel moved impossibly closer pushing you against the back of the couch until it dug into your back and drank you in like it was all he had. his tongue lapping you up and delving into you for more, you kept giving him more and more and joel didn’t think he could ever have enough. you tasted so damn good, he’d remember your taste for days, for years, he’d let it haunt him as long as he could. your eyes rolled to the back of your head when joel decided it wasn’t enough, his other hand coming to raise your other leg onto your shoulder, his head now crushed between your thighs. your arms shook as you kept yourself hoisted up on the back of your couch. joel didn’t care, he wanted to drown on your ichor, he’d let you suffocate him if it meant he could continue tasting you. the desperation in his actions and his relentless mouth on you made you cum, your arms burned as they held you up and you tried not to squeeze joel between your thighs but you couldn’t help it. joel removed one of your thighs from his shoulder, watching you shake from the overstimulation as he lapped up your come.
“you taste like heaven darlin’” you couldn’t form a sentence you only whined out his name as you took in his slickness jaw and glistening facial hair. you were all over his face and you felt like crying. you removed your other leg and tugged at his shoulder for him to stand, joel used the back of the sofa to help him stand, crowding you against it. you looked at him desperately, you didn’t want this to end, you could feel his hard-on press against you. but you couldn’t think. joel was looking at you like you were god’s single most beautiful creation.
“are you gonna let me fuck you pretty girl?” his drawl made his words come out slurred as he whispered them in the space you shared between your mouths, he sounded drunk and you could smell your cum on his breath. you nodded furiously, your eyes wide and joel felt like you were the most willing prey and he was a predator. he couldn’t find it in himself to care, lifting you by the back of your knees and letting you point him to your bedroom.
NEXT PART ->
#joel miller#tlou joel#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller imagine#joel miller smut#joel miller x reader#joel miller x y/n#pedro pascal#pedro pascal smut#pedro pascal x reader#pre-outbreak joel miller#no beta we die like men#rainism-writes
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modern!anakin skywalker as your professor + age gap
lowkey daddy professor!anakin x bimbo!reader
description box; anakin is your professor and your boyfriend. that blurs the lines between his job and you being his student sometimes — but he can’t ever deny his sweet girl a request, and this time you want him to give his honest opinion on the essay you’ve written for an assignment he gave his students, including you.
warnings; nsfw warning, blow job, MINOR BLOGS DNI!!, age gap, smut under the cut!
HE’S TAKING TOO LONG to read it. he’s rereading the same lines, again and again, and he’s frowning.
“you don’t like it.”
you hate the way your quivers, like you’re weak and… and dependant. oh, but you are. you depend on his every word and action like he’s your lifeline.
“no — no, sweetheart, i do, it’s just…” and then, anakin sighs and sets aside his glasses, looking into your eyes directly with his startlingly piercing, frost-coloured eyes.
he’s struggling to find words that won’t bruise your ego too badly. anakin never lies to you, but he can’t find it in him to give you a brutally honest review.
anakin sits on the couch as you pace nervously in front of him, the table in front of him filled with documents, his laptop and… that damned essay.
“it’s just what?” you inquire, and your voice is already breaking, “you hate my essay! i can hear it!”
and then, all the dams break; you’re turning away from him and all the tears start flooding and the overthinking starts to claw its way into your soul.
“you’re… you’re gonna give me an F! you’re going to fail me, i’m going to fail this class — you, you hate my essay…” you’re falling into complete despair.
anakin winces, this is exactly the reaction he had wanted to prevent.
“oh, c’mere, sweet girl, i don’t hate your essay. it’s just a little, er… childish wording, but that’s nothing to worry about — ‘m not gonna fail you, all right?”
you sniffle, and for a moment, your tears stop. “y-you’re not?”
anakin winces again — he may be your boyfriend and he may love you, but he’s also your professor and has to keep a certain neutrality towards the work you offer to him as his student. but he can’t deny it, being so close to you, it’s been blurring the lines of professionalism. you’re such a sweet, little thing — so pretty and so young, so soft and so kind-hearted. he couldn’t ever say no to any of your requests.
and maybe you’ve learned to use that against him somehow. he’s given you way too many A’s and B’s that you did not deserve because as much as he loves you as a person, you are a bad writer. you’re not hopeless; there is definitely a good basic idea and core in every one of your essays, just the execution… somehow fails to be amazing every time. and he’s not exaggerating.
“yeah… yeah, i’ll give you a C, m’kay, kid? it’s not a bad essay, pretty, it just needs a little polishing.” he comforts you, caging your, in comparison to him, small frame in his warm, trained arms.
but this time, you frown. “a C? you… you’ve never given me a C before.”
it’s always been A’s and B’s.
anakin struggles to find the right words again, “well, this time your performance was a tiny bit… lacking… but just a little, darling, no need to cry — aw, sweetheart, don’t cry…”
“l-l-lacking? i’m… lacking?” you wail as you push away his arms and pace to the kitchen, this time sobbing violently.
when he reaches you, your eyes are all puffy and red, and he panics.
“no, you’re not lacking!” he protests, think, anakin, think, “i’ll… i’ll give you an A, m’kay? so stop crying, please, you’re too pretty to be crying like that over a grade.”
your sobbing stops slowly, and a relieved smile makes its way onto your lips. “r-really? thank you so much, ani! love you so much!”
you squeal and jump into his arms, and it’s like the rainbows have started showing after the storm. anakin laughs at your excitement but mentally slaps himself — he’d sworn himself he wouldn’t give you good grades without you earning them anymore, but it appears he really just can’t say no to his little darling.
“i’ll make it up to you, i promise!” you swear to him, covering his handsome face with kisses, and he grins cheekily.
“oh really? how’re you gonna do that, little lady?” he chuckles good-naturedly.
and you think, you think real hard. and you jump down, out of his embrace, and you thank him in the only way you know.
you lead him to the couch and settle between his legs, and you unbuckle his belt.
“oh, like that? i didn’t mean that—” anakin stops whatever he was going to say when you take him whole. whole.
a choked, throaty moan escapes his lips and almost automatically, his big hands reach for your hand; his hand almost covers the whole back of your head, and his fingers are getting tangled in your soft hair, and he bucks up into your soft lips.
“fuck,” he groans and he closes his eyes, and he looks so breathtaking, so handsome, like a greek god, “god, what did i do to deserve you… such a beautiful, obedient girl… must’ve saved a country in my past life to deserve you.”
he feels your lips curling up at his praise and he looks down, and it’s a sight to behold. big, innocent doe eyes looking up at him like he’s a god you’re worshipping, nothing but pure admiration and love shining in those eyes.
“my god, you’re so adorable,” he praises you, eyes closed and brows furrowed so prettily, moaning when you begin to deepthroat him, your pretty head going up and down, up and down, “so, so, so pretty…”
and then, his chiselled abs tenses, his thighs quiver slightly, and you know he’s close.
“c’mon,” he whispers, “swallow.”
and you obey, like his good little girl.
if he’s getting thanked this dedicatedly by a student, surely he can make exceptions from time to time.
he doesn’t get paid enough anyway.
#anakin skywalker#anakin skywalker smut#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin skywalker x reader smut#anakin smut#anakin x reader#anakin x you#obsessive anakin#star wars#star wars anakin
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HELLO HELLO I HAVE ANOTHER ONE BUT ITS A 2 IN 1????? ALASTOR AND READER REACTING AND HELPING ONE ANOTHER DURING A PANIC ATTACK??????? PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE
I GOTTA DO IT I JUST GOTTA-
Alastor X Reader Headcanons
✅️Romantic
❌️Platonic
TW: Panic attacks
Description: ☝️⬆️
SO-
It's really REALLY difficult to get Alastor to honestly open up to you about ANYTHING, even as his S/O
He will keep everything to himself, not out of any maliciousness but because he's not used to letting his guard down
Hides most of his fears behind his smile and quick wit
But you don't land The Radio Demon himself by not knowing him and his inner turmoil by not seeing the signs
You can see the cracks in his persona before even he can, knowing when he's about to break down
You try to talk to him about it beforehand, but he always brushes you off, telling you that he's fine
He tells himself that he's fine that everything is under control
It's always a little thing that sets him off, the last straw that broke the camel's back
Doesn't even realize that he's losing it until there's tiny tear pricks in the corners of his eyes and he's gripping his head so tight that he's hurt his scalp
Just repeats to himself that everything is fine, everything is okay, he's got everything under control
Breaks your heart when you see his painfully tight smile and watery eyes, shaking like a leaf
"Alastor..? Oh honey..."
Flinches when you place a gentle hand on his back, surprised that you snuck up on him
Tries to lie to you, bottle his emotions back up and may even try to seduce/fluster you depending on how frazzled he is
But you see through it, you always see through him
"Hey no...it's okay to be upset..."
Reluctantly leans on you, letting you hug his head to your chest until his hyperventilating stops and he's soothed by your heartbeat
Will put all of his strength into not letting himself cry, digging his claws into you as he grips you tight
His shaking finally stops once he relaxes into your hold, accepting your comfort
Don't make him explain himself, just help him ride it out until he can be himself again
When you two pull away he'll try to go on as if nothing had happened, springing up with renewed energy
Please don't comment on what happened, he's already embarrassed
"Alastor, come talk to me next time...okay..?"
"...I appreciate the offer, my dear."
That's the most you'll get out of him but he does start listening to you when you tell him to take care of himself
If anybody tries to pry into it then he'll just try to scare them off or redirect their attention
It's hard being so evil
You on the otherhand-
Whether you follow your own advice or not, everyone has a panic every once in a while, it's natural
It sneaks up on you and hits you like a tidal wave when it does happen, you hardly register your body crumpling to the floor
You feel so sick-even the air tastes bad
You can't breathe-where is the air???
Your body is white hot and ice cold all at the same time and your thoughts keep racing and-
You're in someone's lap suddenly, curled into their chest as sharp hand soothing the back of your neck
Your mind is so fuzzy from panic that you can't even recognize who it is, only instinctively leaning into their scent
"Y/N, whatever has you so upset, I promise we can face it together..."
Alastor-
He lets you throw your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder, only holding you tighter in response
Pretends that this is just a normal conversation the entire time, talking endlessly about his day and what he did
Somehow it works and you find yourself calming down, becoming invested in his story
Before you know it, you're laughing at something Alastor said Niffty did and you've forgotten that you were ever even having a panic attack
Alastor doesn't let you go even when you move to get off his lap, unwilling to part with you after seeing you so vulnerable
"Let's just take a little time to be with each other, shall we?"
If you want to talk about it then he'll listen while keeping his lips pressed to your temple, giving you reassuring squeezes
If you don't want to talk about it then that's fine, he's not going to force you or even bring it up again
Either way, the moment you two part ways then he's back to his witty, snarky self and he expects you to be yourself too
If anybody asks, he'll just lie and say you two were playing twister
Charlie two years later: They weren't playing twister...
It's a horrible lie but he doesn't care, he dares them to question him and his precious S/O
I HOPE THIS IS GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU!! I wanted it to be soft 😭
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Hitchin' a ride
Or two times you told John Egan no, and the one time you said yes.
Part 1 of Are You Going My Way?
John "Bucky" Egan x female!reader
Words: 7k
Warnings: mentions of blood, wounds, hospitals
It gets dark early in winter in East Anglia. By the time you leave the ward, it’s pitch dark despite it barely being past dinner time. Huddled in your dark blue wool cape, you trudge along the side of the road, holding a small torch to light your way. There’s a cold, biting wind tonight, and it feels like it’s going through every layer you’re wearing, straight through your bones. Breath shuddering, you pick up your pace, the gravel barrier between the road and the grass crunching under your standard-issue brown boots. The faster you get back to the nurse’s barracks, the faster you’re out of this wind and soaking your sore feet and cold toes.
Thorpe Abbots sprawls strangely, but you usually don’t mind. The quiet walk at the end of the long shifts in the operating room, rounds on the intensive care ward, cleaning, and inventory is your moment of solace. A moment where you can finally let the smile fall off your face, where you can grit out the curses you've bitten back all day, the crinkle in time when you are allowing the tears to well up and drip down your face silently.
There is no textbook or training to prepare you for the horrific reality. Torn flesh, burns, and the blood. The fear and agony. The pained screaming. The blind panic.
You have never felt more that you are where you need to be, yet you are so completely and utterly powerless.
A light catches your eye, reflecting on the trees around you in a ghostly flicker. Glancing over your shoulder, the light floats through the darkness, gliding towards you. The soft ding of a bicycle bell pulls you out of your reverie. Turning fully, the light casting off your torch finally illuminates the figure on the bicycle.
“Major Egan,” You greet him, trying to keep the surprise out of your voice. He has no reason to be here. There’s nothing down this road but the building with the nurses’ quarters. It’s not the first time you’ve encountered Major Egan somewhere he has no reason to be. But you, as an army nurse and merely a first lieutenant, are not about to question him on that.
“You shouldn’t be walking here alone at night, lieutenant,” He tells you, stopping next to you. You stop, too, taking a good look at him—because why wouldn’t you—as he gets off his bike.
A little too friendly, a little too forward. His bright, sharp blue eyes are contrasted by luscious dark curls and that devilish smile. Tall, broad-shouldered, and moving with a confident grace, he is hard to miss. And if you were to somehow overlook him in a crowd, he commands, demands, attention. There is something dangerously magnetic about him, something electric.
You best keep your distance.
“Don’t worry about me, please, Major,” You reply politely. “It’s not late, and I know the way,”
“Are you done for today?” He asks conversationally, smiling, his eyes crinkling happily. The tips of his ears are red from the cold. In the middle of a quiet road, in the dark, in freezing temperatures, it’s an odd place for polite conversation.
“Yes, I’m heading back to my quarters,” You smile. “Long day,” You add, hoping to cut the conversation short, desperately trying to suppress the full body shiver from the cold. You notice with some envy that Major Egan seems wonderfully unbothered by the biting wind in his sheepskin jacket. You nod at him, turning back in the direction you had been heading, gingerly taking a step. Hopefully, he gets the hint.
“I could give you a ride,”
You stop dead in your tracks, looking back at him wide-eyed.
“I’m heading in the same direction, so you’d get there quicker,” He beams at you with that brilliant smile, patting the carrier at the back of the bike. Instinctively, you start shaking your head, trying to keep yourself from vocalizing your thoughts.
You’d be out of the wind. You’d be in the warm faster. You’d have to get close to Major Egan and hold on to him. You bet that that sheepskin jacket is nice and warm. You bet Major Egan is nice and warm.
“Isn’t that the bike you almost lost an eye for?” Your sense of self-preservation is stronger, has to be stronger, than any magnetic force or joking flirtation from Major John Egan.
“Almost?” He seems surprised you brought it up but recovers quickly. “I remember it differently — it was a bullseye, not my eye,”
He looks at you like he’s expecting you to laugh with him, but you just blink in disbelief. That’s an awful joke. For a mere second, in the reflected light of your torch, you see his smile falter—he’s smart; he knew that was a dud. You purse your lips.
“I suppose I like my rides without stories of near-eye trauma attached,” You muse. It’s such a flimsy excuse.
“Do you think it’s bad luck?” It’s a chillingly honest question, and all cheer has suddenly disappeared from his voice. You pause to think. It hadn’t really occurred to you that Major Egan might be a particularly superstitious man; somehow, he didn’t seem the type. But in these times, superstition creeps up on even the most staunch rationalists.
“Luck has nothing to do with it, Major,” you finally admit, eyeing him carefully. He frowns, suddenly unsure of the gravity of the conversation through his own too-candid question. “I would just hate to encourage any of that sort of behavior,” You add lightly.
“So, you would have accepted if I had a different bike?” He sounds on the precipice of hopeful, but the laughter in his voice is evident again. He changes so quickly and bounces back from everything in a mere second — it’s all a joke, after all. He’ll do you a favor and then jokingly ask for a kiss. And then maybe another. And then he’ll move on to whatever or whoever catches his eye next.
You wrinkle your nose. No. You’re not interested, you repeat to yourself. If you were, you might as well have stayed at home and practiced your good graces at dinner parties. You joined the Army Nurse Corps because you wanted to do something, mean something.
“I’m going now,” You clench your jaw to stop your teeth from clattering. “Good night, Major Egan,”
“Suit yourself, lieutenant,” He grins, undeterred, as he watches you turn on your heel, huddling into yourself to protect yourself from the wind. Truthfully, Bucky wasn’t expecting that you would accept his offer. If anything, he wanted to see how you’d react: your replies are always calm and composed, so very proper, but you have a bad poker face. From the way you scrunch up your nose in annoyance to how the corner of your mouth sometimes threatens to pull into a smile at his jokes. And Bucky notices that your gaze lingers just slightly longer than would be polite, although nothing coming out of your mouth would corroborate that. It’s adorable. It’s intriguing. And he knows you won’t make it easy on him.
But that’s not why he keeps thinking about you. That’s not why he goes out of his way to look for you.
You suddenly took root in his thoughts only a few weeks back. It had been a bad day. Worse than Bucky had seen in a while, there had been many bad days lately.
Being Air Exec has some perks, mostly that other people don’t really question why he’s wandering the halls of the infirmary at the dead of night. In the hallway, set up on provisional cots, medics are asleep, still fully dressed. They just collapsed on the first soft spot the moment they could. He can hardly blame them.
His footsteps echo through the dark rooms. The wounded men in the beds are fast asleep — it’s eerily quiet except for the occasional snore.
He’s not sure why he’s here. Maybe it’s to assuage some of the guilt he’s feeling — he’s fine after all. He didn’t go up with them, after all. Maybe because he needs to see the pain with his own eyes, afraid that he’ll forget.
The doctor on duty is doing rounds, his desk empty, when Bucky slips through the swinging double doors to where the heaviest casualties are put up. The air in the room feels different—heavier. It’s not quiet—labored breathing, raspy, sometimes gurgling, groans of pain in artificial sleep. He really shouldn’t be here.
All beds are full.
It’s been a really bad day.
It’s there that he notices you first: sitting on the floor, arms crossed and tucked up against yourself, head leaning against the wall, and legs bent at an uncomfortable angle. In the first second, he thinks someone fell out of their bed. But as Bucky gets closer, he recognizes you — the seersucker cotton dress, the matching cap now crumpled and skewed on your head, and the clearly scuffed and dirty white oxfords. You are one of the OR nurses.
He’s seen you around, just in passing. In chaos between casualties, just from the corner of his eye. Sometimes, you showed up at dances or parties, and Bucky had noticed your cute laugh from across the room, the way your entire face lit up when you smiled. And he knows he’s not the only one who has noticed the delightful sway of your hips as you walk, evident even through your dress uniform. But you made damn sure to make yourself unavailable by sticking with your girlfriends. He’s never seen you accept a drink or dance with someone.
Your mouth is slightly open as you breathe deeply, your form cast in the pale moonlight peeking through the sides of the blinds. Bucky wouldn’t let a woman sleep on the floor in normal circumstances, but in this case, waking you up would be cruel — there isn’t a bed free in the whole hospital. And even bad sleep is better than no sleep.
He moves past you carefully, mentally putting names to all the men here. Those that made it. That’s a good thing, right? They made it. Bucky doesn’t recognize the figure moaning in pain louder and louder, hands desperately grasping at the neatly tucked-in covers — his entire head is covered with a thick layer of white bandages, not even leaving a slit for his eyes, just a small opening for his mouth. He hesitates before his curiosity takes over and moves by the side of the bed to look closer. It’s a good thing, right?
He should do something to help him.
Bucky is so lost in thought that he doesn’t notice you brushing past him. He almost jumps out of his skin when your torch suddenly clicks on at the foot of the bed. You are bleary-eyed, blinking rapidly as your eyes fly over the patient chart.
“He is due for a new round of pain medication,” You state softly, voice still thick with sleep, before looking up at Bucky. “Major,” is all you say in acknowledgment of him.
“Nurse—lieutenant,” He mumbles in reply, increasingly on edge from the patient’s distress. “What are you—” Before he can start running his mouth in confused ramble, you trust the torch at him.
“Hold this, please, Major,” Your voice is barely above a whisper, yet it cuts through the noises easily in its steadiness and calmness. The small torch is now in his hand, your fingers brushing over his palm unintentionally as you move through the dark. It’s like a small spark burned the spot where your fingertip touches his skin. “Up, please,”
Bucky complies, shining the light from a high angle as you prepare a syringe. You look exhausted, but nothing in your movement betrays that. Clinical, precise, and so calm. He watches you speak softly to your patient, your free hand wrapped loosely around his wrist, a syringe poised in the other. But the patient is struggling harder, too panicked, and in too much pain.
It happens in a split second.
The patient sits up so quickly that Bucky almost stumbles back in surprise. The patient now has an iron grip on your lower arm, white knuckles, moving in a blind frenzy, pulling you clean off your feet, half over the bed. You yelp in as much surprise as in pain as your knee collides with the metal bed frame. Your face is contorted in pain as you struggle back, trying to regain your footing.
“It’s okay, I’m here to help you,” You keep repeating patiently. Never let them know you are scared: they can’t calm down if you are not in control.
Your voice doesn’t waver one bit. Bucky clenches the small torch between his teeth, trying to free your arm from the patient’s grip.
“N- no” You breathe, clearly in pain now. “Please, Major, just help me to hold him still,”
You are still holding the syringe, poised to strike. Grabbing the patient by the shoulder and forcing him back against the pillow. In the struggle, the torch falls from his mouth. It clatters on the tile floor and rolls away. He is so focused on his task that it’s almost by surprise when the struggle ends within a few seconds, and the patient drifts off again. He never saw you give the injection.
You both stand there, breathing heavily. Bucky bends down to retrieve the torch from the floor. It’s still shining, although it flickers uncertainly with every move. When he straightens back up, he catches you looking at your arm, the brown sleeve of your vest rolled up messily. When you realize he’s looking at you, you pull the sleeve back down and busy yourself tucking the patient back in. But Bucky has seen the angry red fingerprints imprinted on your forearm.
“Thank you, Major Egan,” Not a quiver in your tone, although your breathing has barely slowed down. “It’s probably best you go now,”
“Are you alright?” He cannot help but ask, gaze traveling to your arm. He can’t help but notice you must have been issued a vest a size up, as the sleeves are a bit too long on you. It’s adorable.
“Please don’t worry about me,” You reply, smiling, but it’s clearly a deflection. The corners of your mouth are quirked up, but your eyes just spell tired. “You should try to get some rest, Major. The sun will be up soon,”
There is a certain sense of irony in you telling him that. At least he has a bed to go to, you think wryly. You start walking towards the ward exit, signaling he should follow you.
“Will you be okay here by yourself, lieutenant?” It’s not his place to worry about you, but you are just… you. And these men are in pain, scared, and -
“The doctor will be back from his rounds soon,” Your soft voice pulls Bucky from his thoughts. You stand at the door, holding it open for him. If he hadn’t just seen that chaos happen, he would have never guessed by your demeanor anything happened. As he passes you, you salute him. He salutes you back, gazing over to you. The tips of your fingers are shaking.
The thought is sudden and overwhelming: he wants to lace his fingers through yours, pull you against him, and hold you until you stop shaking.
“Goodnight, Major,” You whisper with a pointed look. You want him out of here so you can check on your throbbing knee and painful arm away from his prying eyes.
“Goodnight, lieutenant,” He replies, tearing his eyes away from you.
***
In early spring, it seems like the rain never stops, from semi-permanent drizzle to raindrops rhythmically ticking against the window pane to the torrential downpour you find yourself in now. The drab-colored trench coat is putting up a valiant fight to keep you dry.
You’re holding your purse over your head but to no avail. The cold trickle of water from your sodden hair travels down your spine. You’re trailing behind your friends, who are making good time through the storm. Water sloshes in your left boot, making it heavy, the drenched woolen sock rubbing painfully against your foot.
Then you hear it. The all too-happy ding of a bicycle bell.
You try to walk faster, gritting your teeth, but Major Egan has caught up with you in just seconds. You don’t stop to greet him, just glancing over at him with narrowed eyes. Gracefully, he jumps off the bike, matching your pace by foot easily. His dark curls are plastered to his forehead, his cap sagging under the weight of the water it must have absorbed. He shouldn’t look this good, sopping wet, especially when you feel so wretched.
“Lieutenant, I could get you where you need to be a whole lot quicker,” he calls out.
“No, thank you, Major,” Your tone is polite, but you keep walking, falling behind further and further from your friends as your left boot squelches with every step. You know he noticed.
“You’re really not going to take me up on the offer? Even in this downpour?”
“Most drops miss,” You can’t keep the scowl off your face as you march on.
“You are so unbelievably stubborn,” He laughs. You don’t think you’re stubborn; you just don’t like feeling like your hand is being forced.
“I don’t need you to save me, Major.” You tell him evenly, finally stopping and turning to him. You know your friends noticed you stopping but probably figured they were doing you a favor and kept going.
Bucky regards you carefully — you look miserable. The curl has long been rained out of your hair; rivulets of water running down your face, dripping on the collar of your trench coat. The steep downturn of the corners of your mouth pretty much just seals the deal. But despite all the evidence, you would never admit you’re anything but fine.
“Save you?” He sounds incredulous. Like the thought never even crossed his mind.
You bite your lip — you might have said too much. But you are afraid that he might ask you for something if you owe Major Egan a favor. He will ask you for something. And you won’t be strong enough to tell him no maybe because you want him to ask. Who wouldn’t?
You’ve seen him look at you from across the room before, and when you scrape together the courage to meet his gaze, it’s like electricity. Short, intense, and almost painful. And then he looks away, his attention turning so fleetingly. It leaves a bitter taste in your mouth.
“Forget it,” You mumble, clearly embarrassed. Closing your eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, you wish nothing about this moment was happening right now. When you peek through your lashes at Major Egan, you note he looks concerned.
“For what it’s worth,” He clears his throat, not a trace of humor in his voice. “I never considered you to require saving, lieutenant.”
You keep looking at him sharply, finally shaking your head. “You have a funny way of showing it.”
There is something deeply absurd about the whole conversation. Just tell him no. Just bid him goodnight and leave. Why are you even entertaining him with your feelings on this? And it’s clearly entertainment to him.
“I’m going to my quarters now, Major,” You state, feeling the need to be polite despite your increasingly impolite feelings about the situation. “And you’re going in the wrong direction,” You add pointedly as you start walking again. It feels like you have an entire puddle in your boot now.
“So what would you prefer, lieutenant? A more classic approach?” That devastatingly handsome grin is back on his face again as he walks beside you. How is that what he took from your last statement? Your shoulders sag when you feel the butterflies in your stomach. “At the next dance, I buy you a drink and sweep you off your feet on the dance floor?”
“I might be more agreeable when it’s not freezing or raining,” You sigh like it’s paining you to admit it. Maybe he’s imagining it, but Bucky likes to think he saw the shadow of a smile pass over your face as you say it, even though your voice is painfully neutral.
“Is that a yes?” Again, that hopeful edge.
“No,” You reply curtly, but you feel bad the moment you say it because you see his smile fall — he’s staring at you somewhere between confusion and growing frustration. It’s making you feel bad. A horrible little selfish part of you wants him to only smile at you. Major Egan could light up a room with that smile — he regularly does. The selfish little monster in you wants to be the reason that he smiles like that.
“Ask me again at the dance, Major,” You amend carefully.
The way his face breaks out in that broad, beaming smile makes you weak at the knees.
***
Bucky is on pins and needles tonight. Even Buck, usually so even-tempered, is getting irritated with him. Drumming his fingers on the bar, tapping his foot not to the beat of the music but to blow off some of the anxious energy. People are flittering in and out of the hall, but there is no sign of you yet. He’s going through his whiskey too quickly, and it’s doing very little to calm his anticipation.
After an hour of only half-listening to the conversation going on around him, constantly glancing at his watch, he finally sees the pack of nurses come in. Bucky’s heart drops a little because you aren’t with the group. You’re always with that group. Knocking back the rest of his drink, he resolutely makes his way to the table now occupied by five gossiping nurses. All eyes are on him as he approaches.
“Good evening, ladies,” He smiles, eyes searching the table. All chairs are occupied — clearly, your friends aren’t saving you a seat. A chorus of good evenings and giggles comes in reply.
“How can we help you, Major Egan?” A blonde nurse asks, peering up through her lashes.
“I’m actually looking for my favorite nurse,” He replies easily, holding his smile despite feeling mildly annoyed. When he mentiones your name, another chorus of giggles.
“I thought I was your favorite nurse,” One of the girls pipes up. The girls burst out laughing.
“She’s on the night shift,” An earnest, young-looking nurse cuts in, pushing up her glasses. Bucky doesn’t really recognize her — she must be quite new. “I asked to switch shifts because I haven’t been to a dance here before.”
“You should have found someone from the afternoon shift,” the blonde nurse sighs in a bored tone. “The poor girl is putting in a double shift now,”
“No one else would switch with me,” The bespectacled nurse defends herself with a small voice.
Bucky should be annoyed. Did you scheme this out on purpose? You run so hot and cold between your lingering looks and thinly veiled barbs. But then again. Of course, you would switch shifts with the new girl out of kindness. You slept on the floor to stay close to those most needed care. Doc sang your praises in the officer’s mess regularly for staying late to finish inventory, covering in emergencies, and keeping the OR running smoothly. Kindly caring for everyone around you.
He should be annoyed. But instead, he feels jealous. It’s a horrible feeling. But you cared more about the new girl than him? Is it really so bad that he wants your kind attention aimed at him? That he wants to be your choice? You wouldn’t even give him a shot.
It just won’t do. But now, at least, he knows where to find you.
At the end of the dark hall, a faint light. A lone lamp on a lone desk, with a lone nurse sitting at it. You hear him coming, of course. Your bright eyes look straight at him as he emerges from the darkness. You are already getting up out of your chair, ready to greet him, notes and medical textbook forgotten on the desk.
“Good evening, Major Egan,” you greet him, your voice soft. Your gentle tone carries sweetly through the quiet hall. You didn’t expect him to come find you. It feels far too serious, far too earnest. You haven’t seen or spoken to Major Egan for over a week now, and for your own sake, you decide that he hadn’t been serious—that you hadn’t been serious. It was just banter.
Truthfully, you were slightly relieved the new girl asked you to switch shifts. But as you sat at the duty desk by yourself, blankly staring at the pages of your medical textbook, your stomach twisted painfully with regret.
“Good evening, lieutenant -” you cut him off with a sharp shush, tapping your index finger against your lips. You step a bit closer to him, voice a sweet whisper. “Please keep it down,”
A beat of silence as you’re both clearly uncomfortable in the strange situation you have suddenly found yourself in.
“How can I help you, Major?” You whisper politely as your eyes nervously, guiltily, dart around the room—anywhere but him. He looks sharp in his dress uniform. He smells nice. He clearly made an effort. And you’re standing here in your day-old hospital uniform. Self-consciously, you try to straighten the standard-issue white and brown stripe wrap-around dress.
“I came looking for my favorite nurse,” Bucky replies sincerely, eyes boring into yours.
“Then you must not be looking for me,” The words tumble out before you can stop yourself. Bucky nearly bursts out laughing at the pained look that crosses your face as you clamp your mouth shut.
“I was waiting for you to show up at the dance,” He says with that same heavy sincerity. His stance is casual, hands in pockets and shoulders relaxed. But the way he fidgets — tapping and shuffling his foot — as he waits for you to reply hints that he is not nearly as calm as he’d like to appear.
“I had to stay,” You reply, still avoiding his gaze. It’s a half-truth. You could have said no. But the new girl seemed to want to go to the dance more badly than you did. It felt unfair. And you had convinced yourself quite thoroughly that Major Egan wouldn’t care or notice anyway.
Another silence falls. Neither quite sure where to go from here.
“How are the boys doing?” Bucky asks conversationally, reaching out to the large doors leading into the intensive care unit. On a whim, you grab his hand before he touches the handle, your fingers gently wrapping over the top of his large hand. He stills, and for a moment, you think he’ll shake your hand off his. But instead, he waits in acceptance.
“It won’t help you,” You whisper. It took you a while to figure out why Major Egan was in the hospital that night. When people spoke of him, they spoke of how much he cared for his men — a heavy burden to bear.
“Help me?” His voice is suddenly loud. He is offended at the notion that he’s doing it for himself and offended that you called him out like that. He opens his mouth again to argue with you.
Startled by the volume, your brain misfires fully, and instead of replying, your free hand reaches out to his face, your index finger landing on his soft lips to silence him. He stares at you wide-eyed. You are sure you look as shocked as he does. You try to gather your thoughts quickly.
“I - I understand,” You implore him in an urgent whisper, finally looking at him. Bucky sees his own sorrow reflected in your eyes.
Sometimes, you can only wait. There is no next round of medicine; there is no operation that will help. Waiting for the body to do its work can be frustrating and maddeningly slow.
“But there is nothing you can do now, so going in won’t help you or them,” You swallow. Why is your finger still on his lips, and why is he letting you do that? “They need to rest. You need to rest.”
His fingers lace through yours as he steps closer. It’s inappropriate how close he is standing to you. It’s inappropriate how the tips of your fingers caress the seam of his lips. It’s inappropriate how your hand has latched onto his, his thumb drawing lazy circles on the pulse point of your wrist.
“I don’t need rest.” His voice is soft and close. The intimacy of his lips moving against your fingers is intense, each breath setting your nerve endings on fire. He leans into your touch, trailing from the corner of his mouth to his jaw. Finally, you look at him.
“Then what do you need?” Your question comes automatically. Always looking for how to help. Always so kind. He could melt into your soft touch, warm voice, and how you look at him so sweetly.
“I need to know when you’re done here so I can sweep you off your feet,” His eyes meet yours, keenly following your every move.
You want to take a step back and break the increasingly feverish connection, away from his oddly earnest confession, but Bucky pulls you closer with a small tug on your hand. Your head is swimming; your heart is hammering in your chest. You shouldn’t entertain any of this, but it feels like your heart is pouring out of your mouth.
“My shift ends at 0500,”
Bucky grins at you—not in a teasing way, but with that infectious broad smile—the one you cannot help but smile back. It gives you butterflies. You’re smiling at him now, beautifully, genuinely. It feels like a victory to Bucky.
“I’ll keep the party going if you promise me the last dance.” His voice is low and inviting; he is reeling you in further with every word.
“Don’t torture everyone on my account, please,” You feebly try to inject some levity into the situation. You know yourself well enough: you are no match for John Egan and his attentions. From sparks across the room, now it’s like you’ve touched the live wire, and the current has a hold on you. That’s why you always avoided him so.
“Torture? Darling, it’s a party,” He needles you gently, eyes glinting merrily. “Only you would equate that to torture.”
“Major -,”
“Bucky,” He interjects. You blink at him, biting your lip.
“Bucky, please,” The moment you utter his name, so beguilingly, so breathlessly, he presses your palm against his face fully, his hand covering yours. He needs you closer. The golden buttons of his jacket brush against the front of your dress. His lips press against the soft flesh of your hand as he studies your reaction. The hitch in your breath is embarrassingly loud to your ears.
“Please, what?”
“Don’t torment me like this,” It sounds even more pathetic when you say it out loud. And exactly as you’d expect, the admission of your weakness, the slightest chink in your armor, is an in for him.
“How do I torment you, exactly?” His voice is so warm, so encouraging.
“You take far too much pleasure in making fun of me, for one,” You try to play it off in a last-ditch attempt. But under his heated gaze, his breath brushing on the sensitive skin of your wrist, you falter. You frown before you utter in a small voice: “It’s not nice how you toy with me, Bucky, because it’s obvious that… that it’s just a joke to you, and your idea of a joke could get me dismissed, and sent home,”
You look down at your shoes, embarrassed. You want to pull away, but Bucky is not allowing you an inch of slack.
“It’s not a joke to me.” He sounds surprised. You look up at him, unable to keep the skepticism off your face. “It wasn’t a joke from that night I saw how calmly you handled that panicked patient, the moment you saluted me with those shaky fingers, and then every time you denied my help, you stubborn, stubborn girl,” His face is so close to yours now; a finger tracing down the side of your neck, down, just along the collar of your dress, leaving goosebumps in its wake. The way your hand rests on his cheek, you could pull him even closer if you wanted to. “I’ve wanted to grab hold of you, wrap you around me-”
Footsteps. You pull back from Bucky with a jerky movement, who mercifully releases you immediately, stumbling back two steps, almost hitting the desk with your legs. It’s strangely cold suddenly without his hands wrapped around yours, without him so close you could feel the warmth radiating off his body. Blood is rushing in your ears. Bucky looks too collected, but to your relief, you spy a faint blush creeping up his neck.
So it wasn’t just you.
Hands folded, you take another furtive step back behind the desk, making sure there’s a respectable distance between you as the doctor on duty turns the corner. Bucky and the doctor start talking in low voices, but you are not listening. In your mind, you keep returning to his words, trying to put the puzzle pieces together.
That night on the ward. That was the first time you spoke and saw each other in more than passing. That’s when Bucky suddenly formed this habit of popping in places he had no business of being. Places you happened to frequent. You really hadn’t been vain enough to consider that the common denominator in those situations was you. It had to be a coincidence that he had just turned into a joke.
“Nurse,” The doctor turns to you, handing you his clipboard. You nearly jump out of your skin, being so lost in thought. “Please update the log,”
“Yes, doctor,” You nod, trying not to look as flustered as you feel. The men start leaving, still talking.
“Good night, lieutenant,” Bucky turns to you, unable to keep the cocky smile off his face. Before he turns, he winks at you. It makes your knees so weak you nearly collapse back into your chair. Covering your face with your hands, you try to focus, but the smile won’t come off your face.
Seven more hours until your shift ends.
***
It’s a misty summer morning, dew covering every inch. The sun is just breaking through the clouds, and it’s promising to be a beautiful day.
When you leave the infirmary, you blink against the early morning sun. It’s still so early that few people are around. You hesitate. Surely, the party is not still going on. You wouldn’t put it past Bucky to actually do it. Rubbing your eyes and yawning, you’re unsure if you could even stay on your feet long enough for a dance.
Luckily, you don’t have to make a choice.
The sound of the bicycle bell makes you smile now. Bucky’s looking remarkably fresh and well-rested. The party clearly didn’t go that far into the night. He dressed for duty, his signature sheepskin jacket hanging open.
“Are you going my way, darling?”
You purse your lips because you’re fighting to keep the smile off your tired face. You don’t stand a chance. You dart over to him like you are pulled by a magnetic force, the live current arching between you.
Sliding onto the back of the bike, you grab handfuls of the thick sheepskin to steady yourself, trying to find your equilibrium. Bucky’s large, warm hands encircle your wrists and easily pull your hands off his jacket. Instead, he gently nudges you forward by your arms, tucking them under the side of his jacket, wrapping your arms around his waist. The side of your face is resting against his back. You can feel his heartbeat under your palm, resting just under his sternum; you move along with his every breath.
“Ready?” Bucky peers over his shoulder.
“Hm–mh,” You hum in reply, face buried in the folds of Bucky’s jacket. “Drop me off before the last turn?” You mumble, gazing up at him pleadingly. “Matron will be awake and on the prowl by now,”
“Don’t worry, darling,” His free hand wraps over yours, pressing a kiss on your knuckles. “I’m not going to get you into any trouble,”
“I’m holding you to that,” You yawn, wrapping yourself around him tighter. You’re going to make the most of this moment — the quiet morning, the soft sheepskin, the smell of Bucky’s aftershave.
You drift in and out of sleep, even though the trip by bike is tortuously short. After almost twenty hours on shift, you should be allowed this comfort. Whining in protest as Bucky starts to unlatch your arms from him, you feel his chuckle as much as you hear it.
You slide off the back of the bike, ignoring where the metal was jabbing into your backside on the bumpy road, and rub your eyes, trying to get rid of the haze in your vision. A small yelp escapes you as Bucky tugs you against him by the tie at the waist of your wraparound seersucker dress. The bike lays forgotten in the grass by the side of the road. All the tension and anticipation from last night are suddenly back — you feel wide awake again.
Bucky’s fingers are resting lightly against your waist like he is testing the waters, slowly, gently guiding you closer to him until you are inches away from him. Automatically, your hands sneak back up his jacket, running up his sides to the front of his chest. He is so warm against the crisp morning air.
“Are you going to ask me for a kiss now?” It comes out almost naively as you look up at him. God, you hope he says yes.
“I promised not to get you into trouble,” He teases gently, grinning, inclining his face closer anyway, his lips just ghosting over the corner of your mouth. He is rewarded with a shuddering sigh from you — his grip on your waist tightens, prompting you to close the remaining distance between you.
“This, of course, is perfectly innocent,” Only you could be looking at him with those big eyes, full of want, your curious fingers roaming over his chest, and still speak so earnestly. Bucky buries his face in the crook of your neck, shaking from laughter. You wrap yourself around him, head buzzing. It’s like you’re short-circuiting, sparks flying with every move, every breath.
Bucky nips at the sensitive flesh of your neck, hoping to elicit more of those small sounds from you. If it weren’t for the quiet morning, remnants of mist dissolving in the first light, he would have missed the softest moan of his name that falls from your lips. He could do this all day. Just explore every move of your body against his, every way you can say his name, every touch that brings you closer to him. You move in effortless synchronicity with him, purely on instinct.
“Then it’s trouble you want, darling?” Bucky murmurs, pressing kisses along your jaw.
“It’s only trouble if we get caught,” You reply breathlessly.
His finger is under your chin, tilting your face up to him, and finally, Bucky’s lips find yours. For a second, it’s just that: his lips pressed softly, almost chastely, against yours. You push yourself up on your tiptoes to get more leverage, wrapping your arm around his neck. Your other hand stays pressed against his chest, fisting his shirt, feeling how his heartbeat speeds up as you open your mouth for him with a sigh. Bucky doesn’t hesitate to deepen the kiss, cupping your face. His other hand is roaming boldly over your back, applying light pressure on your spine so you arch into him, skimming just over the curve of your behind, playfully tugging at the ribbon of your wraparound dress. He knows exactly what he is doing and how to get exactly what he wants from you, and you’re more than eager to please.
Your mouth starts to tentatively explore the column of his neck as he whispers your name longingly, encouraging your little adventure. When your lips touch a particularly sensitive spot right under his ear, Bucky hisses — you can feel his muscles clench. It’s exhilarating; he feels the sparks as much as you do. Bucky doesn’t allow you to bask in your small victory too long, greedily capturing your mouth with his again, wrapping you around him, tucking you against him. His soft touch turns feverish, grasping at your hip. You match in kind, nails grazing the nape of his neck, just along his hairline — anything to keep the tension, the current arching.
You can feel the sunshine on your skin and see it through closed eyes. Breathlessly, you pull away just a fraction — Bucky’s lips are still ghosting over yours.
“What’s wrong, darling?” He asks so softly you’re unsure if you heard or felt the words against your lips.
“I have to go,” You mumble as you move to stand feet flat on the ground again. It’s like waking up from a dream. Time is getting away from you. You’re not ready to pull away from Bucky yet, wanting to stretch the moment out. You gently fix his collar, running your hands over his front once more, as much in an attempt to straighten out the wrinkles you left on his shirt as to feel him move under your palm again. When he steps away from you, you release a shuddering breath. You feel like you’ve just been hit by lighting.
“I’ll come find you,” He winks at you, grinning. Bucky presses a kiss to your forehead, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. The gesture feels intimate, more personal, than you could have imagined.
It was everything you feared happening when you said yes to John Egan. It was everything you dreamed it to be. As you watch him leave, you know that you’ll have a damn hard time giving that up.
“I’ll be waiting.”
note: this was literally supposed to be a quick 2k words fun meet cute kind of thing, just a quick adventure Morty, but oh god I'm in too deep. forgive me for this detour from Of All The Stars in The Sky, but it was necessary, you understand.
#Or Mila can’t write drabbles#one shot most likely#john egan x reader#bucky egan x reader#john egan fic#john egan imagine#mota fanfic#masters of the air fanfic#john egan x nurse!reader
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Poison Paradise — Aitana Bonmatí x Reader
Warnings: none.
Word count: Around 1,1k
Summary: Enemies to lovers (?) after a match.
Aitana tried to forget about how nervous you made her, but deeply inside, she knew any effort would be in vain.
Spanish camp had been a stressful environment way before Aitana could remember, and that was key to getting closer with you.
Playing for Real Madrid against Barça had always been hell, but something shifted the last time you had to.
Aitana came up to you with a shy smile as she bit her lower lip.
Her eyes were widening and showed a mixture of victory and compassion.
She enjoyed playing against your team, relishing every victory against the historic rival in men's team history.
But watching you console your teammates as the first captain of your team was crushing her heart. You had walked all over the pitch, shaking hands with the Barça players, including Aitana, to then shift your focus to your teammates.
Some of them were on their knees, others were crying or walking off the pitch as they stormed out, and some others did not care at all.
At one moment, the stadium felt way bigger than before, as the crowd sounds seemed to penetrate your ears until you were only able to hear a high-pitched sound.
If you had been more aware of your surroundings, you'd probably have experienced a panic attack, but you were numb, and after another defeat against Barcelona, no one could blame you for not feeling anything anymore.
That's what Aitana noticed. She saw you looking at her as she approached you. Her soft smile quickly disappeared after noticing your blank stare.
“Let's go inside? Do you need anything?”
She only got more worried after not getting any response back, quickly holding your hand to guide you as you both walked off the pitch.
As the two of you headed to your changing room, she got nearer you, her lips dangerously close to yours.
You started to feel more alive as her eyes looked at you.
Aitana looked visibly concerned.
“Let me get you some water.”
You harshly stopped her from leaving your side—maybe too harsh, as she bumped into you.
Your eyes widened, and you quickly apologized, thinking she was going to get mad, but she stayed quiet, looking from your neck to your lips.
You instinctively licked yours.
Your mind tried to regain focus, but could you blame yourself for not being able to?
She brushed your arms softly, as a way of easing you, but your thoughts had turned into a mess of neediness for her body.
You rolled your eyes when your teammate Maite approached you.
Maite had been Aitana's friend for a while, as they both had met some years ago during national camp.
She was visibly affected by the loss, too, so Aitana shifted the closeness of your body to Maite's, leaving you in a state of jealousy.
You weren't a jealous person; you didn't like Aitana, and you couldn't start having feelings for your biggest rival.
Surprisingly, Aitana had managed to get Maite head to your changing room.
She felt awful for brushing her friend off, but she needed to have a moment with you.
“Are you leaving now?”
You nodded.
She was running out of time.
Everything happened so fast.
The game, the aftermath, but somehow whenever she looked into your eyes, she felt time stopping, you being the only source of life.
Her hand rested on your waist.
“I'm proud of you.”
You rolled your eyes.
Not at her words, but at the thought of the match you had just played.
“I appreciate it, but I don't feel like talking about this.”
She nodded and pulled you into a warm hug.
Her embrace made you almost cry, until you tilted your head, finding her neck.
It was an innocent move, the best way you found to stop the tears falling down, but as your nose softly brushed the skin of her neck, you noticed how she shivered and hissed in a low volume, even though you were able to hear it.
You separated a little bit from her, trying to figure out if she was feeling the same way as you.
You took as a confirmation the way she looked around, just in case someone was approaching.
It was not safe to do anything there, so Aitana grabbed your hand and pulled you into her team's changing room.
You froze at first, not wanting to enter the place where the players had been celebrating the victory, but you gave in and let her guide you through it.
The players looked curiously at you, not understanding why you were there or the quickness of Aitana to pull you into the bathroom.
“It's an emergency,” she informed her teammates, causing the opposite of what she had in mind, as they approached you both, who were already into a bathroom facility.
“Yes, she's fine. Don't worry.”
You had to stop laughing as you shook your head, not being able to believe all the mess Aitana had done just to have some privacy with you.
She looked at you and slightly tilted her head to the left as a way of asking for permission, and you nodded.
With her hand placed on your left cheek, Aitana pressed her lips against yours.
Adrenaline rushed throughout your body.
You knew this was wrong; everything about this was awfully wrong.
But you couldn't get enough of the poison paradise Aitana's lips were.
How could something so forbidden taste so good?
Her lips guided you through the kiss.
It started roughly, slowing down as you kissed.
Her knee pressed against your core as she was quick enough to cover your mouth.
You could hear the other players talking in the bathroom.
“Tell me you have some time left before you have to go. You don't know how much I've thought about this,” Aitana whispered.
You had to leave in about ten minutes, and you hadn't even showered.
“I can't...”
She sighed.
“I've wanted this for a long time, too.”
Aitana looked up and smiled when she saw you smiling, warming her heart knowing the day you've been having.
She placed her head on your chest, “This is so wrong... Like so wrong.”
You laughed.
“I think we both know. But I really want— need to kiss you.”
Aitana looked at you as she licked her lips, and you laughed again, making her roll her eyes.
“Do I need to ask you?”
Aitana nodded, enjoying your desperation to feel her lips.
“Can you kiss me, Aitana?”
She softly grabbed your head, bringing it closer to hers but tilting it to the right, so she could reach your ear.
“As you wish, beautiful.”
And with that, she linked her lips to yours, both of you tasting the bittersweet taste of rivalry.
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Ok so, when I was younger, I would hide under the sink cabinet when I was scared, upset, or angry(No one was able to find me cuz I was so quiet lmaooo).
Can you do obey me headcanons for everyone for an MC who hides when they're scared or sad and they're super quiet when they're hiding for those reasons so no one can find them/have a difficult time finding them? can you also write that they also generally hide in the same few spots because they're small enough to not be noticeable but big enough that they can fit inside?
Please and thank you!
hi!! yeah, sure thing!
this took a while so hope you didn't mind!
hope you enjoy :)
Mc who hides when they’re scared
Lucifer
the first time you hid, he couldn’t lie, he freaked out a little and of course he didn’t show it but he was thinking about what he was supposed to tell dia
he dropped everything he was doing and tore up the entire house searching for you
after this, he always made sure to check your favorite hiding spots before going into panic mode
Mammon
he was the one who found you the first time
he immediately thought to check weird spots and was unlucky at first, but eventually discovered you in a box in the twins closet
how tf you got in there without any help is a mystery to him but he made it easier for you to get in and out
Levi
he freaks out when he hears that nobody can finds you and that they all just assumed you were with him
for some reason, nobody had thought to just text you so while you refused to give up your hiding spot, the two of you were able to talk though the situation together
let's you know how much he really cares and how worried he was about you and promises you a hug later
Satan
he understands the feeling of wanting to just disappear so he checks where he would have loved to hide
he makes sure to reassure you when he sees you getting visibly upset
he's always ready to give you the refuge you seek in his room
Asmo
he almost bursts into tears when he learns nobody can find you
he spam calls you and tries to track you with his D.D.D. (and fails)
he throws himself onto you and hugs you tightly and promises never to let go
Beel
he also joins in the search in tearing up the house looking for you
when he finds you, he offers you lots of food because he thinks you might be hungry
food is his love language <3
Belphie
if he happened to be asleep when you went into hiding, he instantly wakes up like he could sense something was wrong
if you happened to be hiding in his closet, he finds you pretty quickly since he’s learnt you like that spot the most
he wraps you up in a blanket cocoon with both of you inside to make you feel safe <3
Diavolo
he joins the search for you himself before anyone can stop him
after you're found he's quick to make sure you're alright and pats you down for injuries
after this, he constantly checks up on you whenever he knows you might be feeling scared or upset
Barbatos
actually, he kind of already knew where you liked to hide in the demon lord's castle because he knows everything about that place
somehow, the first place he checks, you're there
he whisks you away for a mini tea party afterwards to help you relax
Solomon
while he is worried, just like the rest, all he needs to do is essentially summon you to him
he asks why you decided to hide and lets you hide in his room if you want while you talk
after that, he's off to personally deal with the brothers and whoever made you upset
Simeon
he wants to go search but he knows everyone else is already doing that
so instead, he prepares for your arrival with your favorite food <3
also asks if there's anything he can do to make you comfy and sits down to talk with you
Luke
I feel like he’s also in the habit of hiding just like you
the two of you can hide together, especially if it’s at the purgatory hall
the two of you comfort each other with hugs, and playing games such as rock paper scissors
Mephisto
at first, he chalks up your disappearance to stupid human problems but begins to worry
he begins to think about everything that could’ve gone wrong and that it’s his fault that you ran off, potentially into danger
once he finds you, he pretends like he doesn’t care and kinda scolds you, but he’s so relieved that you’re alright
Thirteen
since she's close to you, she's the one who actually raises the alarm since you never showed up for your craft hour together
she hugs you very tightly and asks you never to scare her like that again
always triple checks with you now to see how you're doing
#obey me#obey me!#obey me x reader#obey me satan#obey me mammon#obey me asmo#obey me beel#obey me levi#obey me lucifer#obey me belphie#obey me diavolo#obey me barbatos#obey me solomon#obey me luke#obey me simeon#obey me mephisto#obey me thirteen#omswd#obey me shall we date#obey me! shall we date
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more about loser in love Aventurine <3 (hopefully this is more articulated, last thing I wrote was literally a 2 minute brainstorm with no coherency lol), kinda a mix of pre-relationship and loser in love bf Aventurine :3 of course, this is all lovingly and lighthearted :)
let me know if you'd like more or share your own thoughts! also, I want to write a bit about soft bf! Aventurine, biting my hands so hard not to do it here because . . . thoughts are too loud
dividers by @/cafekitsune :)
Panics with no filter as soon as you are out of his sight. You could be walking down the street together when suddenly something catches your attention making you quickly run away from him. Aventurine will literally freeze for a moment, anxious eyes looking for you as the only thing that slips past his lips is "where are you? where did you go?" as he turns his head around hoping for the best. As he finally spots you, a huge sigh of relief leaves his body. He would scold you with such seriousness, how dare you leave him behind without a word? He isn't a babysitter to watch your every move, so try and behave!
As soon as you reply to him, explaining that you don't need a babysitter, fully capable of taking care of yourself and that he is just an overreacting drama king...he just gasps. How dare you ruin his only method of making himself seem semi-normal? Anyhow, he ignores your rationality and the fact you are not dependent on him in a way that he is on you, in the process making a new decision - as this happens...a lot, he decides to use it as an oppprtunity and a lame excuse for you to hold his hand every time you go out together.
He tries to act like it's not a big deal, but internally he is all over the place as the two of you walk holding hands. (he will get teased for this years later)
He is also a needy for attention type of loser with no personal space who texts you all the time. When he isn't texting, he would call you anytime he can, which seems to be a lot. Even if there is nothing to have a conversation about, he is just asking the same questions...over and over again.
"so, what are you doing?"
"mhm, have you eaten?"
"how are you feeling?"
"mhm, is there anything new going on?"
"mm, sooooo, what are you doing?"
"that sounds fun! anyways, do you miss me?"
You can swear that he kicks his feet anytime you talk over the phone or text. But when you explain to him that you don't have to talk to each other all the time, he is slightly offended and sassy. What do you mean by that? Are you bored of him? Is he simply not worth your time anymore? Fine...he will stop doing it so much. . .for about 2 hours perhaps (his personal record! are you proud?) and then he will continue in his old ways.
Don't be mistaken, he does understand that you need your own time and if you put up a genuine boundary he will certainly respect it. It's just that when it's more playful and chill time, he uses it to the fullest because he is a needy man.
Bonus: Aventurine loves sending you videos that remind him of you or the two of you, especially those little cute animals videos where they cuddle, the little art videos and those adorable encouraging pics (definitely not a loser for this, just thought it was cute as hell)
Bonus 2: anytime you send him a picture of yourself, he puts it as his background. Replies "screaming crying throwing up, pls one chance pls pls pls", somehow you manage not to take it seriously which makes him even more desperately in love
Bonus 3: he saves your contact by some silly, yet cute nickname while adding 50388383 emojis and hearts (preferably the ones that are in your favorite color). He says it's a joke, but...but...well.
Desperate, pathetic, miserable, needy, so sickly in love, he absolutely NEEDS you. He can't take it.
Once you get more comfortable with each other, not even fully in a relationship, this man clings onto you like it's his last day alive. Wrapping his arms around your forearm, playing with your fingers if you are distracted, hugging you from behind anytime you stop walking (yes, even while waiting for a green light to cross the road), throwing his thigh over yours anytime you sit somewhere together, takes any chance to lay on your lap and begs you to play with his hair. He is the type of mess up something, get on his knees and hug your legs until you forgive him. He is also the type to do that...for no reason at all actually. Simply because he wants attention and he loves being close to you.
Anytime he has to go and do something by himself, you can tell how pissy he is afterwards. He walks up to you with an evident disappointment and annoyance on his face, quickly grabbing your hand as he mutters how idiotic it is to have to use the toilet. Let's not even mention when he needs to be by himself for longer periods of time.
Speaking of that, he would also question whether you missed him or not after 2 minutes of separation. You sure did? Hm, is that sarcasm? He doesn't care, he will take it as long as it confirms it. He just wants you to miss him and need him as much he misses and needs you.
Bonus (not really a loser): Now, in a relationship, Aventurine needs you to have eyes for him only as he does for you. Only him and nobody else. He wants you to want him, he needs you to need him and he must feel the desire and love you have for him. He mentions multiple times, you can do whatever you want with him however you want, if you wish to use him as a plaything for a while - he is perfectly okay with that, but the one rule he has is to be your only plaything. His desperation comes cute in certain departments, however...there is a lot of work awaiting in order to teach this man what is a healthy relationship.
He actually confesses his love for you properly when he gets sick. A mild cold, slight fever - should be gone in a few days, if not less. But no! He is certain that this is the end. Immediately sends you tons of panicky messages how you need to come see him immediately. So you do, first time taking him quite seriously.
Only to be met with his red stuffy nose twitching as he tries not to sneeze in the middle of his confession. He is so serious and determined that it makes a laugh stuck in your throat as he slowly explains himself, barely able to take deep breaths, not even looking at you. Talking about all the memories, the feelings, the thoughts he ever had with or about you.
"The only thing that I regret is that I am doing this too late."
He is so melodramatic, coughing loudly afterwards as he finishes up his actually heartwarming confession.
You can't help but giggle at the man in front of you, gently urging him to lay down, not exactly replying to his confession yet, but only mentioning how you will make him some soup and tea. He just nods, a bit exhausted from the all-nighter he pulled to come up with his excellent (miserable) confession. Next thing you know, he is fast asleep, hand mindlessly reaching for yours and as soon as he finds it - he brings it to his chest, almost hugging it. Moments like these are very special to you as he becomes more vulnerable and more himself. He will certainly get your own confession as soon as he gets better and least to say, you are the one to make the full first move since he is just...in shock the whole time. But, that's something to unpack some other time.
#aventurine x reader#aventurine x you#aventurine x yn#aventurine fluff#aventurine x reader fluff#hsr fluff#hsr x y/n#hsr x you#hsr x reader#hsr imagines
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𝐎𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐆𝐀𝐈𝐍
—cw: this is just hella angst and a lil fluffy, character death, jjk au but altered a bit, megumi is reader's son and toji and reader are couples so don't get this twisted because of the tags.
—a/n: please cry. or do inhave to cut onions??? no but fr i was sobbing hard while writing this because yaknow how much i love my man :(( please give feedbacks tho i love reading them.
your eyes were resting close. there was sense of guilt, panic and fear gnawing megumi as he sat on the stool next to your hospital bed. there were a million reasons he could've prevented this. a million. but what is supposed to happen, happens. if he rushed home quicker, you, his mother wouldn't be lying on the hospital bed right now. if only he would've been aside you, keeping you company instead of on a mission, he would've saved you from those corrupt sorcerers. but it happened. and now he was scared, praying every god to turn back time or save you somehow even when the doctor's had announced you wouldn't make it.
you fluttered your eyes open, and slowly adjusted your head to meet your son who was resting his face in his hands, probably sobbing.
"me-gumi..."
"MOM?" his voice was drenched in panic and fear but he eased it out, making sure not to startle you. "you're fine. you're completely alright. just rest and go to sleep okay?"
"since when do you lie to your mom?" he was stunned you caught his lie "i know...i know my body better than anyone else," you stated. his lips quivered in guilt. poor boy. why does he blame himself for everything?
"gumi?" he couldn't form words so he just replied with a hum. "it's not your fault. i don't blame you for anything."
"but—"
"you're the best son i could ever ask for. i know i didn't give birth to you, but not once i ever felt like you weren't my son...not on—not once did i ever feel like you weren't a part of my heart...", a tear rolled of his eye. "so don't blame yourself or you'll be insulting my heart."
"you are the best mother ever." you chuckled lightly because you remembered once he brought an essay home with the same topic. "my mom is the best mom in the world," in his crooked handwriting and drawing of you and his dad holding hands with him. oh right. dad. he knew it was his dad that he fought in shibuya when you told him when he was finally ready. he spiraled into a emotional mess to gulp everything and then your words finally cleared the blurry pictures he had in his head of his childhood.
"is there something you want me to tell your dad when i meet him?" megumi stopped breathing for a few seconds before he finally let out a sigh.
"tell papa...i am sorry." megumi and toji never really had that deep and close father-son bond. there as never a right time in their life.
"he is not mad at you megumi. we're—we're parents. we will always love our child even when they hate us. and you hated him for the right reasons." he was in the verge of sobbing. "megumi...look at me." he lifted his head to meet your eyes. "your dad loved you. he really did. and i am sure when i meet him...he will ask about you first."
"promise me you'll be my mom again in the next life?" he offered his pinky.
"i promise." you entagled your pinky with his.
"i love you mom." you smiled. you didn't say it back. you didn't need to. he knew that you loved him so much.
megumi gently took your hand resting on the hospital mattress and tucked it between his palms. he was warm. or maybe it was your blood running cold. colder and colder till you shut off your eyes, the smile disappearing as your muscles relaxed and heart gave up. megumi's eyes lost inq containing the river of tears and they finally rolled down.
*sounds of waves*
you opened your eyes to bright blue sky mirroring on the ocean, the waves emerging and lacing your feet, the sand tickling your toes. you looked around to find something else but it was all just...beach. till your eyes fell on someone they've been starving to see for years. your husband. the love of your life was right in front of you.
toji smiled and you exhaled in relief, but the exhale bought the years of pent up pain appear on your face, making tears fall constantly.
"i waited for so long, baby." god, his voice. you missed it so much.
you ran. you ran till you were in the arms of your lover, and toji embraced you like he would never let go. "i am here." you cried and he did too. his lips pressed against yours so tightly. he stopped to look at you and ponder at your beautiful face. a face everyday that he tried not to forget. he never could but now you were here finally.
"how's megumi?"
"that idiot. always blaming himself. did you mention how shitty i was?"
"he said "tell papa i am sorry, ha."
toji laughed.
"i did. but he still loves you." you both thought it was funny. "he's your son after all. doesn't show it, but he's stubborn like you inside."
"i am not stubborn."
"yes you are. you got yourself killed even when i told you not to. you left me alone to survive in a world without you even when i told you don't. do you know how hard it was everyday to live without you, toji?" your words getting a little unclear towards the end as you sobbed and yelled.
toji hugged you once again. "i am sorry."
"you should be!"
"i know." he kissed your forehead. "why don't you tell me what happened all these years while we take a walk on a beach?" your puppy eyes peered up at him. "we have forever now."
#jjk x reader#toji x reader#toji angst#jjk angst#jujutsu kaisen#megumi x reader#megumi angst#jjk fluff#toji fluff#jujutsu kaisen x reader#toji fushiguro#toji fushiguro x reader#jjk x fem!reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jjk x you#jjk x y/n#toji x you#toji x y/n#jjk drabbles
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We are all just walking each other home -