#no matter how long they wait or how much they try to make it work
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2:15 am | c. sturniolo
HI yes im alive who’s surprised (me, i am)
self proclaimed mayor of the ‘chris can’t sleep alone’ club (doing gods work, you’re welcome)
summary: chris cant sleep & you’re the perfect remedy
wc: 834
gif by @hotelstares !
you haven’t been asleep very long. maybe twenty minutes or half an hour.
you’re in the midst of a fuzzy dream when your phone starts to vibrate on your dresser next to your bed. the sound is difficult to recognize at first, getting all mixed up with your dream in your mind. eventually it wakes you up, tugging you away from the soft haze you’d been emersed in.
groggily, you reach over for the device, squinting your eyes to try and read the contact. your eyes are bleary, but you’re able to make out your boyfriends name and contact photo after a brief seceond.
“chris?” you wonder through the line upon answering, voice thick with sleep and hardly above a whisper.
“hey ma,” his voice is smooth, like he hasn’t been asleep yet.
“hi…i think i was dreaming about you,” you say as you let your head fall back against the pillow, rubbing gently at your eyes with your other hand.
“yeah?” he says through a deep breath. the smile your confession elicits from him is audible and contagious.
“yeah, either that or i just spent the last four days with you and my brain hasn’t realized we’re apart yet,” you think he must be able to hear your smile as well.
“my brain hasn’t really realized it either,” he mumbles, getting a little bit shy.
you close your eyes, content being soothed by his voice.
“what time is it?” you ask him, even if you could easily look at your phone screen for the answer. opening your eyes feels like too much work.
chris answers of course, without hesitation, “2:15,”
“it’s pretty late, you okay, bub?” you ask him before answering your own question, “can’t sleep?” you know how he gets, always needing someone close by when he drifts off.
you can imagine it’s a bit difficult tonight, considering you spent the last few nights sharing his bed. you’d found it a little harder than normal too, having gotten used to his arms tucked around you, his face pressed against your shoulder blade.
“i miss you,” he mutters and it makes you blush, “and i don’t wanna crawl into bed with matt or nick, i know it won’t help,” he admits, letting out a long breath.
“you wanna come over?”
“would that be okay?” he seems a little bit embarrassed, like he might be inconveniencing you.
“of course, chris,” you open your eyes now, reaching over to turn on your bedside lamp, “i want cuddles now,” you say sheepishly, face still half pressed against your pillow, muffling the words.
“mmk, i’ll get an uber, be there soon,”
“kay, love you,” you sigh, waiting for him to hang up.
“love you too,” he says first, making you smile even if you’ve heard it a thousand times.
in the twenty minutes it takes for chris to show up, you’re drifting in and out of sleep, trying your hardest to keep the lull of exhaustion at bay as you wait, no matter the difficulty.
soon enough, the sound of a key in the lock sends a small jolt of wakefulness through you, and you anticipate the subtle push of the door as he comes through to your bedroom.
“nick or matt’s bed wasn’t good a enough?” you tease, watching him turn a little red as he shuffles into your room.
“i wanted to sleep in your bed,” he mumbles, beanie hanging low and covering his eyebrows, pajama pants hanging lower. he lifts the duvet and crawls in with you, immediately wrapping you in his arms, “nd’ i wanted to sleep with you, not my stinky brothers.”
you laugh, stifling it against the blankets “m glad you’d rather snug with me,”
“you kidding? you’re the best snugger around.”
“i’d say,” you hum, tugging his beanie off and tossing it somewhere on your floor.
he gives you a squeeze before reaching over to turn you so you’re facing him, “thanks for letting me come over,” he mutters, beaming in the low light. he looks so pretty like this, grinning down at you, illuminated by the soft glow of your lamp. he reaches up slightly and brushes your hair from your face.
you have a small moment of realization; he’s admiring you the same way you’re admiring him. you think your heart grows in size, gratitude making it swell up.
“thanks for comin’,” you whisper back, leaning up so your noses touch.
chris closes the gap, giving you a gentle kiss before pulling back and kissing your forehead too.
“night,” he tucks you against him, keeping you close, “i love you,” it’s sweet, how his tone changes. it’s tired now, chalked full of sleep and you can’t help but think it’s because he’s with you now, and that’s what puts him at ease enough to finally relax.
“i love you too,” you whisper into the barely-there space between you, watching as his eyes close and his lashes kiss the tops of his cheeks.
you can’t help yourself, leaning forward just enough to kiss him there too.
.
.
.
.
tags ! @st4rswrld @urfavvev3lyn @mattsturnioloarchive @averysbestyears @its-jennarose @strnilolo @grimholic @tworosesblackthorn @mattscoquette @dazednmatthews @pinkishpearls
#stromboli#chris sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo fic#chris sturniolo blurb#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo drabble#chris sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo
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priorities ₊˚⊹♡
‧₊˚🖇️✩ ₊˚🎧⊹♡
summary: matt gets busy with work and forgets his priorities, leaving his gf, y/n, feeling lonely and sad.
warnings: angsttttt :(
Matt Sturniolo had always been a man with ambition, his mind constantly buzzing with ideas and projects for not only his and his brothers’ channel but also his personal project. But lately, his work had consumed him entirely, leaving little room for anything else, especially his girlfriend, Y/N.
Y/N had been patient, understanding the demands of Matt's career. But as hours turned into days, and days into weeks of him barely talking to her, she found herself feeling neglected and lonely. The late nights filming, the canceled plans, the missed calls—it all added up, chipping away at the foundation of their relationship.
One evening, as Y/N sat alone in her apartment, staring at her phone, frustration boiled over into tears. She clicked on her boyfriend’s contact, the pircture of him sleeping in her arms popping up on her phone, making her sigh with tears streaming down her face, she wiped them and took a deep breath, clicking on the “call” button, a few rings later he finally picked up the phone.
"Hey," he said, his tone lacking its usual warmth.
"Matt, we need to talk," Y/N said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her.
There was a pause on the other end of the line before Matt sighed heavily. "Can it wait? I'm in the middle of something important."
Y/N felt a pang of hurt at his dismissive tone. "No, Matt, it can't wait. This is important too."
"What's wrong, sweetheart?" Matt's voice softened slightly, the term of endearment making her miss him even more but she could still sense the impatience in his tone.
"I miss you," Y/N sniffles, her voice trembling with emotion. "I miss us. It feels like you're always too busy for me, like I'm not even a priority anymore."
Another pause, longer this time. Y/N could almost hear the gears turning in Matt's mind as he searched for the right words to say.
"I'm sorry, Y/N," he said finally, his voice tinged with frustration. "I've just been swamped with filming and working on my project lately. You know how important this is to me."
Y/N felt her frustration bubbling to the surface. "I understand that, Matt, I really do. But that doesn't mean you can just ignore me whenever it's convenient for you. I need you too."
Matt let out a sigh, his tone defensive. "I'm not ignoring you, Y/N. I'm just trying to juggle everything at once. It's not easy, you know."
Y/N felt a surge of anger. "I'm not asking for much, Matt. I just want to feel like I matter to you, like you actually want to spend time with me."
The conversation escalated into a heated argument, accusations flying back and forth as they both struggled to make themselves heard over the phone. Y/N's frustration increased with each passing second, her voice rising in pitch as she tried to convey the depth of her hurt and disappointment until she just couldn't take it anymore.
“if it’s going to keep being like this matt, then I’m not sure we could keep doing this anymore” y/n finalized, her heart thudding in her chest, she couldn’t believe what she had just said, but she couldn’t hold it in anymore, she had to say it.
silence greeted her from the other line.
With a choked sob, she hung up the phone, feeling utterly defeated, her chest felt constricted, as if something was sucking all the air out of her, she felt like she already lost him.
Alone in her apartment, Y/N crumbled. The weight of her emotions pressed down on her chest, suffocating her with a sense of loss and longing. She buried her face in her hands, tears flowing freely as she allowed herself to feel the depth of her pain.
10 minutes later, there was a knock on the door, startling her out of her thoughts. She hesitated, wondering who could be there at this hour. When she peered through the peephole, her heart skipped a beat.
It was him.
Y/N's eyes widened in surprise as she opened the door, her cheeks stained with tears. Matt's expression was one of guilt and desperation as he took in her tear-streaked face.
“don’t break up with me” he almost whispered. “I’ve been such a fucking idiot please don’t leave me” he said shakily, his chest rising and falling in heavy breaths.
her eyes welled with tears as she looked up at him, not knowing what to say.
"Oh, baby.." he murmured, stepping forward and reaching out to cup her face in his hands. "I'm so so sorry." he apologized, his thumbs swiping at the tears falling from her beautiful eyes.
Y/N felt a rush of conflicting emotions, she wanted to push his hands away, to scream at him and tell him to get out but every violent thought seemed to disappear when Matt pulled her into his arms, his embrace warm and comforting. Her arms stayed at her sides, she wanted to stay angry, to make him understand the hurt he had caused, but she also craved the familiarity of his touch, the reassurance of his presence.
As Matt kissed her forehead repeatedly, whispering apologies in a shaky voice, Y/N felt her resolve crumbling. She buried her face in his chest, clinging to him as if afraid he might disappear again.
Finally, Matt led her to the couch, settling her onto his lap as he continued to shower her tear stained cheeks with gentle kisses.
"I'm so sorry, Y/N," Matt said, his voice thick with emotion. "I've been so caught up in work that I forgot what truly matters. you don’t deserve this, you don’t deserve to be treated this way, god I am so fucking stupid for hurting you like this but I promise you, from now on, you will always come first. I'll never let this happen again, please forgive me.”
Y/N felt a surge of hope as she listened to Matt's words, feeling the weight of resentment lifting from her chest. She leaned her forehead against his, her eyes closing as she softly nodded.
“can I kiss you?” he whispered gently, his fingers slowly tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as he gazes into her eyes.
“yes” she softly spoke, her eyes flitting between his as she breathed out shakily.
Matt leaned in, barely grazing her lips with his own, feeling her gentle response as she leaned in closer, her hand finding its place on his chest as he softly pressed his lips to hers, tilting his head to deepen the kiss.
it was a kiss of reassurance and consolation, they both needed it, craved it from one another.
they softly pulled away, resting their foreheads against each other.
“I love you so fucking much and I am so fucking sorry” he apologizes again, his voice heavy with guilt.
y/n moves to rest her chin on his shoulder as her arms go around his waist, squeezing him to her.
“I love you too” she says, kissing his shoulder before burying her face into the familiar spot between his neck and collarbone, inhaling softly as he drew small patterns on her back.
In that moment, as they held each other close, she felt a sense of peace wash over her, knowing that no matter what, they would always find their way back to each other.
° ᡣ𐭩 . ° .
author’s note: I looooove writing angst I love it !!!!
#matt sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#matt sturniolo fanfic#matt sturniolo fluff#matt sturniolo imagine#matt sturniolo smut#matt sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x you#matt x reader#sturniolo fanfic#matthew sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#sturniolo smut#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo fandom
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A Guiding Hand 5
No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.
Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, age gap, parental neglect, depression, inference of self harm, violence, abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.
This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.
Summary: your online academics are affected by your personal struggles but your professor won’t let you give up so easy.
Characters: Raymond Smith, Lee Bodecker in the background
Note: I'm a sleepy baby.
As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.
Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.
I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖
Another unit done. You’re not certain how you’ve kept it up but you’re just waiting for your motivation to fizzle out. Each activity, each page, you teeter on the edge of oblivion. Workbook Five is almost complete and Six will be the final for the course. There’s a shell of disbelief around you. You really did it.
Well, not quite yet.
You sit back and stretch your neck and shoulders. Your teachers always told you to stop hunching but your shoulders always curled forward and your neck sunk anyway. Not out of defiance, just to make yourself small, maybe even, invisible.
You stand, fingers cold and slightly numb. It’s a rainy day and the cold seeps in as your mother keeps the radiator off. You tuck your hands into your hoodie sleeve and find your slippers, a faded old pair that used to be somewhat fluffy.
It’s quiet. You haven’t heard your mother at all. It’s not too unusual. After a binge, sometimes she just sleeps all day and night. You don’t like it, you don’t like that it’s normal, but it’s just how she is. How it is and always will be.
Well, you’re trying to change yourself. You can’t change her or this place.
You open the door slowly and peek out. A habit. You emerge quietly and rub your nose with your cuff, sniffing behind your sleeve as you shuffle into the kitchen. You do your best not to make too much noise as you fill the kettle. You have a few more bags of green tea, the you’re all out. You need to go back to the grocery store but the food credits won’t come until next week.
You turn the dial on the stove and lean against the front as the kettle sits on the back burner. You close your eyes, groggy and slightly dizzy. You’ve been staring at numbers for so long, you don’t even know what time it is. Morning at night, you can’t tell by a glance through the gray window.
You yawn again. Maybe chamomile might be a better choice. You lift your head and lean back on your heels as you mull the decision. The floor creaks with your weight as you shift indecisively. You’re not even sure you have any left.
As you back up, you collide with something, someone, else. You grunt as suddenly there’s a clamp around your neck and you’re shoved forward against the stove. You brace the edge, careful not to touch the top as the heat from the burner radiates across the metal.
Lee’s chuckle brushes over your hair, “there you are, girl. You been hiding.”
“Eek, no--” you squirm and writhe.
He’s too strong. He pushes harder and you’re forced to bend, precariously hovering over the stove, the kettle not far from your cheek. You squeak as your slippers scuff on the floor between his feet.
“Please--”
“You should be begging,” he snarls, “little girl like you, messing where she shouldn’t be.”
“I’m sorry,” you squeal, “you were hurting her--”
“Ain’t none of your business, is it?” He jolts you and you nearly hit your head off the back of the stove. He grabs your wrist with his other hand as he pinches your neck tighter. “Your mama likes it rough, don’t ya know? Walls ain’t that thick.”
You whine and struggle to resist him as he brings your hand up, angling it towards the kettle as you hear that water starting to hum. You can feel the heat roiling from it. You push back against him, pressing your hand to the back of the stove to get better leverage.
“Want me to hurt you? Is that it? Tired of just listening,” he snorts, your hand shaking close to the kettle as you babble, “suppose like this, won’t be too bad.”
He wiggles his pelvis against you and you hiccup in fear. You twitch and he shoves your hand against the kettle. You cry out as it scalds your skin, steam hissing through the spout and towards your face. Your eyes well and you gnash your teeth.
“Pl-please,” you plead and he lets go of your arm, framing your hip instead.
He pulls you back against him, “Mmm,” he shakes his hips again, “think I could. You ain’t bad from behind.”
Horror erupts up your throat as you scramble desperately, trapped by his weight. You grab onto the handle of the kettle, even as your burnt flesh screams, and you hurl yourself back. He staggers as you swing the heavy vessel in his direction but it only splashes on your slippers as he dodges away from you. A flare of anger lights up his blue eyes.
“Ha,” he sneers at you, “you’re funny, girl. Got a whole lotta fight for nothing. Far as I can tell, ain’t no other man around to want you. Not even your daddy.”
You lower the kettle, breathless and terrified. The sting of his word wounds more than the blistering flesh on your fingers. You shake your head.
“Leave me alone,” you croak.
“Hmph,” he curls his lips, “just you wait,” he eyes you up and down.
You stand, paralysed by the stove. He stomps away and you watch him go, not daring to move. When you hear your mother’s door slam, you shakily set the kettle on the countertop. You turn your hand over an examine your palm, the sight of it adding to the agony.
You don’t know how you can write now.
📓
You tap the mousepad twice to get it to react. Your poorly wrapped hand makes everything double the task. You huff as you switch hands, awkwardly navigating to the email icon. You expand the window and find a new email. Professor Smith.
‘Thank you for your last submission. I have reviewed your work and would like to provide feedback via Zoom if possible. Please provide times which work for you.
Looking forward to speaking again.
Take care,
Raymond’
As usual. He is very direct. You can almost appreciate that about him and yet it does not rein in your paranoia. Feedback via Zoom? Why? Can’t he just write it down? Did you do something wrong?
Ugh. You slump and stare at the keyboard. It can’t be avoided. You haven’t even started Six because of your hand. Maybe a review would be helpful. Besides, it would be a waste to give up now. It wasn’t so bad before, was it?
You hit reply and key in your response slowly with one hand.
‘Hello Professor,
I can do anytime tomorrow.
Thank you.’
It isn’t the most academic or professional response. You don’t know what else to say. You have no schedule to adhere too, you can only hope your mom isn’t making a racket.
You send and close up the laptop. You have to rewrap your hand. It’s really hurting but you’ve been rationing the Polysporin. You just want it to heal quick so you can finish your work.
📓
Professor Smith confirms for nine in the morning. You make sure you’re awake but your head is pulsing. Your sleep schedule is all off. You opt for a plain long-sleeved tee over the hoodie, trying to appear as presentable as you can. Nothing you own can compare to his tidy attire; you recall his sweater and stiff collar. Often, you find yourself wilting over how he must think of you. Just like everyone else does, you suppose.
You get set up. Your room isn’t too bad. You’ve been trying to keep up on it. Your laundry is in a basket although the bookshelf is getting a bit cluttered again. Oh well, he won’t be able to see much around you.
You open the laptop. Ten minutes to go. You can hardly sit still. Your anxiety peaks as you hear your mom’s voice from down the hall. It’s early for you, but even earlier for her.
There’s a knock at the door, “honey, do we got any coffee left?”
“Mom,” you get up and go to the door, cracking it open, “I left enough for a pot in the tin. I’m still waiting on the credits.”
“Oh,” she smiles through the narrow space, “Lee musta used them the last of it.” She smiles. She’s drunk. She hasn’t just woken up, she’s been awake all night. She turns and waddles away unsteadily, “baby, we got no coffee.”
You sigh and shut the door. You go back to the computer. Please don’t make a ruckus. You don’t need another scene.
You click the meeting link and fidget. You’re not ready. Are you ever? Life is just doing things you’re unprepared for.
You wince as Professor Smith appears on the screen. He greets you by name and you return a ‘hello, professor’.
“Good morning?” He asks brightly.
You shrug, “yeah, I guess...” you look one way then the other, uncertain, “how are you, professor?”
“Great, thanks for asking,” he reaches for a tall mug and takes a sip before exhaling, “so, I suppose you would just like to get this over with.”
“Um, no, er, I...”
“Not saying anything about you,” he assures as he leans forward, crossing his arms over the desk. His eyes scan through his lens and you realise he must be reading something on the screen, “you’ve done wonderful work. I especially wanted to high light a few things.”
“Oh, uh, yeah, I probably made some mistakes,” you clumsily click around as his image remains in the corner of the screen. You hiss as your fingers throb and open the workbook.
“On the contrary, it’s perfect. In fact, you’ve managed to bring my own error to light. I was certain at first it wasn’t me but I went in a redid the work for Problem Eight. Clever.”
You sit back and nod, surprised.
There’s a thump and your mom’s voice, met by Lee’s rumbling timbre. Muffled enough that their words can be deciphered but you worry it is still heard through the microphone. You clear your throat and move closer, sitting up as you bring your injured hand to rub your neck.
“A lot going on?” Smith wonders.
“No, sir, sorry, I wasn’t expecting it,” you shrug and scratch your cheek, the gauze rough and loose.
“Oh my, what’s happened there? Are you alright?”
You pause and jerk as another bang sounds and your mother’s cackle erupts, stopping sharply
“Yes, sir,” you quickly hide your hand, “I had an accident. Um, I was going to ask... it’s taking me a while to type...”
“By all means, we may discuss accommodations,” he assures, “I am, as ever, patient. Most importantly, you must take care of yourself.”
“Sir,” you nod and your door rattles in the frame. “Um...” you glance over your shoulder. Why now?
“Are you certain this isn’t a bad time?”
“I’m sorry,” you face the laptop, “I didn’t think--”
“Hey, you lazy bitch!” A hard rap shakes the door behind you, “get out here.”
You go wide-eyed and stare at the screen. No. Please. Not again.
Professor Smith’s brow ripples and his jaw squares, “it seems you’ve got some chaos over there.”
“It’s just... I... one sec,” you bring the call full screen and search for the controls and hit mute. You stand up and go to the door, trying to block it out with your body. You open it as Lee smirks back at you, “we’re all outta coffee. Why don’t you go and get us some?”
He holds up a ten dollar bill and flicks it against your nose, “y’ain’t got nothing else to do.”
“I’m busy,” you say, “can it wait a few minutes?”
“Busy?” He snips, “with what? You can watch your damn TV when you get back.”
“Sorry, but I can’t--”
“Lee, she’ll go in a bit,” your mother preens from down the hall.
“I got a damn headache, she can drag her ass out right now,” he barks back at her, “it’s my money, ain’t it?”
“Please, I’m... just after.”
“Why? Whatcha hiding?”
“Nothing, it’s school--”
He shoves the door and you stumble back, hitting the bookshelf with your shoulder. He bulls past you and looks around, his eyes narrowing on your laptop. You turn to see the professor watching intently from his side of the call and you scurry to catch up with Lee and stop him. He elbows you away, tossing you against your bedframe. You hit it and crash to the floor.
“I see, you entertainin’,” he scoffs and hits the keys several times.
“Who are you, sir?” Smith asks, his tone cool but dangerous.
You hear the little blip that signals the mute is off, “should ask ya the same. Whatcha doin’ talkin’ to young girls, eh?”
“Is she your daughter?” Smith challenges and gets a chortle in return.
“Nah, just a whore like her mother, ain’t she? You’d know better than me.”
You get to your knees and grab at his hand, “please, he’s my professor.”
“Don’t lie to me. Irene,” he spins as he hollers for your mother, “come see what your daughter’s doin’." He pauses to grit over his shoulder, "If ya gonna be whorin’ on the internet, you should at least try to get some money outta it.”
“Huh, Lee, leave her alone,” your mom appears in the doorway and you crawl past Lee, keeping low as you reach up to keyboard and feel around.
Professor Smith says your name but you hold the power button until the laptop fan slows and quiets. You sit back on your heels and look over as Lee peers around your room. Your mom sways in the doorway.
“Who was that?” She asks.
“I told him, it’s my professor--”
“You ain’t smart enough for all that book stuff,” Lee growls, “go on and keep lyin’.”
“Why do you care?” You sniff.
“Honey, don’t be rude.”
“Mom,” you whine, “he shouldn’t be in here.”
“Lee, baby, I’ll go get the coffee,” she redirects. You hang your head.
“I want her to go,” he turns and throws the ten at you, “the way she leach of ya, it’s the least she can do.”
You wince, “it’s okay, mom, I can go.” You grab the desk and stand, swiping up the bill. You need to get out of this apartment. Staying will only make him angrier. Staying will only make she shame worse.
#raymond smith#dark raymond smith#dark!raymond smith#raymond smith x reader#the gentlement#series#fic#a guiding hand#dark fic#dark!fic#au
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Rabbit
Rabbit I'm begging you to do stalker headcanons with Mh or EMH guys (you don't gotta ofc! But w o ah)
🐟
AAAA IM SO HAPPY U LIKED THEM !!!! I WAS RLLY HAPPY W HOW THE TOBY ONES CAME OUT :)))) also,,,, watch me hit u w ALL the guys !!!!!!!!!!!!!! (nsfw can come later if u wish fishy, i skipped it cus this is alr a super long post BFJSJFNJS) (also i got to use my rainbow dividers i have saved up cus there's so many ppl YAYYYYYYY)
[📹⛓️💥🚬👁️☠️🐇]
Stalker!Brian Thomas / Hoodie / Tim Wright / Masky / Evan Myers / HABIT x gn!reader headcanons :)
Brian ;
ok we know Brian likes to record
so expect there to be at least one camera on you a majority of the time
sometimes he'll leave it in a tree or placed just right behind a fence post, zoomed in on your bedroom window so he can document you and your routine even when he's busy
he's so thoughtful 😸😸😸
definitely the type to perfectly curate a "meet-cute" for the both of you, writing down the coffee place you stop off at on mondays for a pick-me-up, the stores you go to that have your favorite brand of something, he calculates his every action with you long before it's happened.
he knows what he's doing is wrong, but unlike Toby, he's not exactly ashamed of it. if anything he likes the added excitement that you could still find him out
this is one of the times him and Hoodie kind of blur together a little bit, both in morals and actions
Brian is fully willing to do whatever it takes to keep eyes on you and to keep you under his thumb and his alone; it doesn't matter who gets in his way
Hoodie ;
also a big fan of recording, but tends to get much more risky with it
likes the feeling that you might catch a little camera that's nestled in between some trinkets and books or a pile of blankets you keep on your couch
he is a creepy creeper . he wants to watch EVERYTHING
gets his feelings hurt when you close your curtains cus you feel eyes on you (you're right, but still :(()
it takes a lot to deter him from doing everything in his power to keep watch over you
he's not even sure of his own motives, really. sure, he wants to keep you safe and make sure no one else is watching you, but most of the time he's just there to watch.
you're like a doll to him, something to entertain him.
Masky ;
this isn't even part of this i just wanna say the vibe for stalker Masky (and just him in general tbh) for me feels a lot like the intro to My Meds Aren't Working by Dystopia . very slow, calculating, stuck in your own head but still zeroed in on one thing
and it's you ofc !!!!
i think Masky is one of the more scarier guys to have stalking you on this lineup honestly. hot? yes absolutely. terrifying to see constantly out of the corner of your eye, sitting at the bus stop outside your job, standing in the parking lot of the gas station by your apartment complex and staring up into your window? YES VERY
he's haunting. he doesn't go up to you, will go completely brick wall at you if you try to come up to him, and you can never tell what emotion is going on behind his eyes. the few times you've walked closer to him, likely on the street in the earlier stages, he looked hungry. like he was waiting and watching for your guard to be down to do something.
if he knows you'll be out, he'll get into your house to steal some of your clothes- likely your underwear (creepy crawler) and a sleep shirt
you will never see him without the mask on. point blank. not to smoke, eat, anything. he is not human or himself when he's around you; he needs to absorb everything about you.
i don't think of him to be the type to film you, would rather be there in person 24/7. it feels more personal to him.
Tim ;
one of the few guys that feels guilt about what he's doing- he knows how scary it is to feel watched all the time. how awful it is to find out you were right.
he’s embarrassed of himself; he’s prided himself on being stoic and independent for so long that this sudden urge to love you and watch you and know you gives him waves of shame
watches from afar, would definitely try and avoid letting himself get too close to you in person. he’s ashamed of it, but he can’t help himself- he needs you, even if at a distance.
steals clothes you’ve slept in so he can try and satiate his yearning to be close to you without actually needing to be so vulnerable, with you or anyone
his near dependency on you reminds me of It Will Come Back by Hozier, his obsession is fed by breadcrumbs from the few in-person up close encounters he’s had with you. smiles when he comes into where you work, nervous little waves when you catch him looking at you at the store, soft 'excuse me!'s when you pass by him
you drive him up a wall (lovingly)
Evan ;
Evan feels guilty, but for the ‘wrong’ reasons
i say ‘wrong’ because he’s more concerned with you inevitable introduction to the whole Habit mess, not with the morals of stalking and obsessing over you
despite his guilt, he can’t get enough of you. his persistence rivals Brian's; it’s almost immediate that he tries to get you with him
latches onto you for fear of you leaving- honestly less of a stalker and more on the obsessive side. not good at keeping his hands to himself.
you might be one of the only cases where he tries to bargain and/or work with Habit, in an attempt to keep you safe or keep you near him out of desperation if you're not listening to him when he tries to convince you to stay with him essentially 25/8
touchy obsessive little critter . give him what he wants before he goes sicko mode (being 10 feet away from you at all times)
Habit ;
does not hide himself AT ALL
will actively be letting you know he's watching
seeing him behind you in mirrors, rabbit motifs everywhere, a random blood splatter in plain sight that no one else seems to see.
he watches, he knows, and he learns
what things make you the most paranoid, all the ways he can slowly introduce himself in a more. friendly light to get you to trust him. to love him.
he's what's best for you, whether you like it or not. it just might take some time for you to get there
ironically for him, think 'The Best Is Yet To Come' by Frank Sinatra. it's just a matter of time before things get so much better. for the both of you, of course!
#guys can you tell i love me some creepy crawler masky#🐟#brian thomas x reader#hoodie x reader#tim wright x reader#masky x reader#evan myers x reader#habit emh x reader#emh habit x reader#marble hornets x reader#everymanhybrid x reader#rabbit writings
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THIRSTY BOY
Shy!Ralph Penbury x AFAB!Reader/fem!reader
Warnings: Over 18 only please - Children BEGONE! — shifting POV; shame; nipple play; mommy kink; praise kink; hand job; gentle fdom
*******************
He had been thinking about asking you for a long time. He wasn’t altogether sure that you would allow it, really. Especially considering that you were such a lady in his eyes. The thought of doing that to you made him inwardly cringe and furiously blush. How was he going to express to you that he, Ralph Penbury, would love to suckle at your nipples like a newborn? How was he going to convince you that it was something normal when he himself doubted that what he wanted was entirely sane?
These thoughts plagued his mind more and more ever since the coming of summer. Your light linen summer dress that showed your cleavage made his mouth water. The fan you used to push a breeze along your neck walking back from the estate chapel after church services matched your dress and your eyes. A bead of sweat rolled down your neck, dipped into your sternal notch and settled between your luscious breasts. He couldn’t stop staring.
“What is it, my love?” you asked. His head snapped up, switching his gaze to the path through the trees ahead. Your voice was filled with such innocence. How could he defile your relationship with this primal desire? How could he ruin your view of him like this?
“Oh nothing,” he improvised, “just thinking.”
“Of?”
Drat. He wasn’t good at improvisation. He should have known you’d suss him out. He could feel the blush creeping across his cheeks and ears. “Of- of - of many things…”
“Of cabbages and kings?” you supplied.
“And whether pigs have wings! Yes! Clever girl! Oh you’re so much cleverer than I.”
“Don’t say that! You’re quite clever, really. You figured out what your birthday gift was before you unwrapped it!” You hooked an arm under his and squeezed him close.
“That wasn’t clever,” he said and when you protested further, he added: “I merely guessed correctly. That’s all.”
“Clever guess then,” you said. Your head met the side of his arm for a second before you said: “You didn’t tell me what you were thinking of.”
“When?” he asked. The desperation of needing you to leave well enough alone was overwhelming. Yet a sliver of himself hoped you would just guess the crux of his problem and take the work out of it for him.
“When? Just now, darling! Just as we were leaving the chapel and walking down the lane. Here. Now.” Your smile teased him. “Tell me, bunny. What’s the problem?”
“Problem? There’s no problem.”
“Well you were certainly blushing hard enough to make it seem as though you had a problem.”
Ralph laughed nervously. “I certainly don’t-“
“No. You’re not denying it. As a matter of fact, as you were trying to dodge the question yet again, Mr. Penbury….” You playfully traced a fingertip to the red shell of his ear. He reflexively dodged his head out of the way.
“My goodness!” he cried. “It’s nothing, I promise you.”
“So it is something, then?”
Ralph sighed. You were like a bulldog with a bone. There would be no dissuading you. He took another breath and resigned himself. Normally, he would make confessions to you without thinking about it. But the guilt and embarrassment associated with what he wanted left him with wet hands and red ears. He couldn’t look at you.
“Bunny?” Your nickname for him held a twinge of anxiety. He could see your furrowed brow in his periphery.
“I am so very sorry, my love. What has been plaguing me all these weeks has only gotten worse with every passing day. I’m afraid I cannot hide the truth from you any longer. And I can only apologize to you, my dearest heart. You don’t deserve to be associated with a man such as myself.”
You were silent for a bit too long. Ralph knew you were waiting for the fatal blow. Be a man, Ralph Penbury. The worst she could do is leave your life and render you a husk of a man doomed forever to wander the world unloved and unseen.
Ralph cleared his throat. “I am only too sorry to tell you - and I would never ordinarily because I certainly do know the limits of what a gentleman should reveal to a lady about his innermost thoughts and desires - but you see, my dear… I-“
You sniffled. Turning to you in alarm, he said: “Darling? Oh no. Please don’t cry.”
“If you’ve fallen in love with someone else, Ralph, just tell me. Just please tell me outright.”
“What? No! No no no! Nothing of the kind, my sweetheart!” He offered you his handkerchief and watched anxiously as you dabbed at your eyes and nose and calmed a bit.
“Then what in God’s name is it, Ralph? What’s so difficult to tell me?”
“I want to suck on your breasts like an infant.” Did he just say that out loud?
You blinked at him. Here it comes. Here comes the moment she cries harder and runs away from you forever. Ralph waited motionless, breathless.
“Is that all?”
“What? ‘All’? What do you mean ‘all’? Isn’t that, well, everything?” he cried. “Aren’t you disgusted at all? Revolted by my basest desires? How infantile I am? That I, a grown man, should want such a thing is-“
“Perfectly normal for a grown man?”
“It- it is? I’m not a- a- deviant?” he whispered the last word conspiratorially as if the trees surrounding them were all the bishops in England.
Your light laughter joined the birdsong around you. “Oh, silly bunny.” Your finger slipped into his waistcoat and pulled him in for a small kiss to the side of his mouth. “Let’s get back to the house. Take off these clothes. It so sticky and hot today. I think you could- use a drink?”
*******************
The bedsheets were deliciously cool on your skin. Down pillows were propped behind you in Ralph’s grand bedroom. Yours was the guest bedroom down the hall and while wedding bells were definitely ringing in the near distance, you two had not been fully intimate as of yet. He was so shy. So polite. By the time Ralph was finally kissing your mouth regularly and comfortably, it was practically cause for notifying the press.
The prospect of seeing your Ralph happy, contented, and suckling at your breasts made your own mouth water. Ralph was harder to read. He had been quiet all the way back to the manse. You both had mounted the stairs in tandem, exchanging glances and little smiles. Yet, as soon as you had entered his room, he had tore off for the toilet. You had opened all his bedroom windows, turned on the electric oscillating fan in the corner, and disrobed in the cool breeze it had created. You were not completely revealed. Your undergarments were still in place: bra, panties, and silk slip. The breeze was delicious, but soon it caused gooseflesh to spread along your skin. The bed welcomed you and you arranged the pillows accordingly.
All that time, the bathroom door hadn’t opened. You also heard no noise. “Ralph? Are you quite well?”
“Fine.” A curt answer, to be sure. Very unlike your Ralph.
“Darling, I promise you that you have nothing to be ashamed of. Please come out here.”
“A-are you certain? By that I mean, erm… we aren’t wed, my dear.”
“I am aware we’re not wed, shy boy. Please come here. Let me make you feel good. Please?”
A creak betrayed his presence in the doorway. You craned your neck around and smiled at him. “There you are, bunny.” You held a hand out to him. “Sweet bunny boy. Come here and let’s have cuddles, yeah?”
He stepped into the room, entirely nude save for his underpants. He wore boxer underwear, blue with white stripes, hands clasped self-consciously in front of his crotch. His eyes were wide taking you in as he slowly approached. “You are so beautiful.”
“So are you, love.” He took your hand. “Did you want to get in here with me?”
“I don’t want to defile you. You are so lovely. And I’m- I’m just a neanderthal, beating his chest and ready to drag you off by the hair to his cave like some animal. Full of depraved thoughts. Terrible things.”
“No, sweet,” you said soothingly, “you are the dearest of men. The kindest, gentlest gentleman to ever exist. And now, I want to show you how much you’re loved. Please dear sweet Ralph. Come into my arms.”
*******************
He lay across your lap with one arm wrapped around your waist. His head rested on more pillows, the positioning allowing him full access to your left breast. He hesitated again. “Are you certain?”
A smiling kiss to his forehead told him all he needed to know. “Did you want to help yourself, or did you want me to-“
“No. I want.. this.” He mouthed over your clothing and moaned into you. His eyes fluttered closed and he rested a hand on your breast, not pressing, not pulling, but just lending warmth from his skin to yours. His other hand pressed into your back gently, steadying both of you into the sensation.
Soon his hand crept beneath your chemise and brassiere. He pulled away from you, thumbing at your nipple and watching carefully for your reaction. The love in your eyes was everything. “May I… Mommy?” His cock was already half hard but with the use of that word, he found himself crossing his legs to hide the evidence of his arousal from you.
If the flush in your cheeks was anything to go by, it worked for you too. You swallowed hard and nodded. “Please, my bunny. My- my baby. Go on.” With your help, the material barrier between his mouth and your skin was pulled away. The heat from his mouth set a low burn in your belly and you gasped at his touch. His forehead furrowed. His eyes were tight shut. Dark lashes against his cheek. Sunlight in his hair. He was fucking beautiful. You couldn’t help yourself. You cooed at him running a hand through his hair:
“Such a good boy.”
“I wish you could see how handsome you are right now.”
“Mommy’s good little boy sucks on her tits so well.”
“That’s it, baby. Just suckle. Momma’s got you.”
Fewer things had brought you peace and simultaneously made you incredibly turned on. Ralph’s smile was one. But this? This was the next level of bliss. Your hands moved along his body: one stroking his hair, the other moving along his shoulder and side in slow soothing strokes. Words poured from your mouth as he continued to satiate himself.
“You are so gorgeous like this.”
“Sweet bunny boy. That’s it. You feel so good.”
“Such a strong boy with such a gentle mouth.”
“Momma loves this so much, baby boy.”
Ralph’s erection was becoming painful. Try as he might, he could not hope to conceal it from you and he was seconds from cutting it all short despite his very dreams coming true when your hand brushed his waist. He gasped and stared at you, another blush rising past his collar and ears. “What’s this?” you asked.
“N-nothing!”
“Shh… shh… It’s all alright, my sweet boy. Here.” You guided his mouth back to your nipple. Dumbly, he latched on, big brown cow eyes watching you. “My baby’s excited, yes? Did you want Mommy’s help? Mommy will help you.” He nodded, eyes filled with amazement.
Your hand caressed the unmistakable hardness beneath the material. Ralph whimpered. “Hush, sweet boy. I’ll be gentle. You’ll see.” For lack of any other lubricant, you licked your palm and worked your hand beneath the waistband of his undergarments. Ralph’s resulting moan was everything you had hoped for. “There’s Momma’s good boy. So thick and hard for me. What a lovely gift! Thank you, my sweet boy.” Ralph’s eyes went glassy and unfocused.
The slip of his soft skin in your palm was addicting. Suddenly, you were up for touching him like this any time he wanted you to. If only to see him so content and docile beneath your hands. You could see the tip of his cock leaking pearlescent in the late morning light. You passed a thumb over it, smoothing it along his shaft. His hands pushed into you, squeezing you harder, and his hips bucked. “Feel good, baby?” Ralph hummed in the affirmative. You chuckled. “Thought so. Think you could come for me?”
His eyes flew to yours once more and then just as quickly shut tight. “Please, Mommy. Want to be your good boy. Want to come for you.” It was little more than a whisper before he latched onto you again, his shyness painful and completely sexy.
“Good boy! Telling Mommy what he wants is so important! That’s Mommy’s sweet Ralph. My brave boy.”
The more you cooed and stroked him, the more Ralph’s eyes glassed over until they closed completely. The intimacy of lying there allowing him access to your body in such a specific and nurturing way, your hand providing that much needed friction to help him reach his climax and encouraging him with such sweet praise, Ralph thought he might first burst from happiness and then die from it. This was everything he ever wanted. You were everything he ever wanted.
His hips had a mind of their own. They stuttered and bucked up into your fist seeking completion. It caused him no end of embarrassment. “I’m so sorry, Mommy. I can’t help it. It’s just too-“
“That’s okay, baby. You use Mommy’s hand the way you need to. Come for me. You can do it. You’re doing so well.”
Ralph didn’t need much more encouragement. Soon your hand, his stomach and the bedsheets were spattered with his cum. His sighs as he came were filled with your name mixed with “Mommy” and his desire to be a good boy for you. “Oh my sweet Ralph. You are the best boy for me. Always and forever.”
It took Ralph a few minutes to come back down to earth. Once he did, he managed: “Thank you, darling. This was more than perfect.” His eyes were glassy once more. You kissed him slowly.
“Anytime, my beautiful boy. Just ask. I’ll be more than happy to do this again.”
“And I wasn’t too strange for wanting this?”
“Never. Honestly, I’ve wanted this too. I love taking care of you, Ralph. Thank you for letting me.” Ralph’s sleepy smile was brighter than sunshine. “Now, if you’ll let me take care of you further? Let’s get you cleaned up and tucked in, hmm? Time for a lazy Sunday cuddle and nap with my shy bunny boy. What do you say, sweet boy?”
“Yes, Mommy. That sounds lovely. Thank you.”
#fanfic#writing#joseph quinn#joe quinn#ralph timewasters#ralph penbury#ralph penbury x reader#ralph penbury x you#mommy k!nk#gentle fdom
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Here Without You
Pairing- Yoongi x Named Reader
Word count- 4k
Includes- Based on song Here without you by three doors down, angst, fluff, sex, missionary, oral, pussy eating, cum eating, cock riding, multiple orgasms
youtube
Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa
@borntowalkaway @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @seokwoosmole @meowmeowminnie @realisticnotes @effielumiere @svnbangtansworld @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @marvelfamily3000
Gif Credit- Yooboobies
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📝Masterlists 📝BTS Masterlist 📝Yoongi Masterlist
J POV
Opening the door to my apartment, silence greets me, my eyes tearing up
"Stop it", I whisper to myself, wiping my eyes
I need to stop crying all the time
It doesn't help
It doesn't bring him back
I just have to wait for him to come back
He will
When the tour's done, he'll be home again
Closing and locking the door, I go to our room to undress
I try to think of what I have to do before I can video call him
Undress
Shower
Cook something
Eat
Maybe watch a TV show or YouTube
Some thing to pass the time until he wakes up and can call me
He's in Texas now, so when he wakes up at 10 am, it's 1 am here
Luckily I don't have work tomorrow so I can sleep in
I've stayed up late every night since he went on tour three weeks ago so I can talk to him and I've gone to work exhausted
It doesn't matter though, he's worth it
Sighing, I throw my clothes in the hamper, then go to the bathroom to shower
--------------------------------
I'm laying on the couch with the TV on for noise when my phone rings
Seeing the caller as "naekkeo", I immediately pick it up, his beautiful face filling my screen
"Hi jagi", he says softly, his sad brown eyes gazing at me
"Hi naekkeo", I answer, tears flooding my eyes
This tour has been particularly hard for us
It's the first one after our wedding
And the first one where I can't come to any of the overseas concerts
Not with this video game designer job I have now
I started it last year and the boss is an asshole
He gave me such a hard time to take off for my wedding and honeymoon even though I told the interviewer that I needed certain days off and was guaranteed them at hiring
I'm working on a major game now and I have endless meetings
The thing is I can do everything remotely but my boss is being such an ass, demanding that I come in for meetings
I'm one of three people that come in physically for meetings
The people from other departments come in virtually
Because they have other bosses who aren't pricks
This is the first time I haven't been with him at all on the tour and it's affecting both of us
He's already been gone for three torturous weeks
"How was the concert last night?", I ask, forcing the tears back
"It was good", he answers, his eyes wet, "ARMYS had fun"
"Did you have fun?", I ask
He nods, biting his lip as the tears spill over his eyes
"Naekkeo", I say softly
"I'm sorry", he says as he cries, "I just miss you"
I shake my head, my own tears falling, "I miss you too baby. Don't be sorry"
"I can't....I can't do this jagi. I need you"
I nod, wiping my eyes, trying to calm him down, "I need you too baby. It's just for a little bit"
"It's another six weeks jagi. I can't spend that long without you", he sobs, "We've never been apart this long. It's killing me"
I know exactly how he feels
"Me too naekkeo but there's nothing we can do. You have to be on the tour. I have to work. I wish I could be there, I want to be there with you", I say, more tears falling, making his image blurry, "I don't know how it can happen baby. It's torture for me too naekkeo"
He shakes his head, "I don't want to be here without you. I dream about you every night and when I wake up and you're not there it's devastating"
"I want to be with you naekkeo", I whisper, "So much. I dream about you too Yoongi and I miss you more than anything"
"I can't handle it", he sobs, "I can't sleep without you. I hate knowing you're not backstage waiting for me. I hate not seeing your smile. Hearing your voice. Holding you. I don't know how I'm supposed to keep doing this tour"
I really have no idea how he's supposed to do it either
I don't know how I'm supposed to keep going without him
Video calls, it's not enough
Like he said, I need to be in his arms, I need to feel him, hug him, kiss him
I can't do that through a screen
"We just have to keep counting down the days baby", I tell him, "Just get through each day at a time"
It sounds lame but there's nothing else I can think of to make this better
It's hard for both of us
He just shakes his head, wiping his eyes
"Tell me about the concert naekkeo", I ask him in a effort to distract us both, "What's the set list? What was your favorite part about this concert?"
He smiles sadly, knowing exactly what I'm doing
But he nods and begins talking
--------------------------------
Three days later
I toss and turn in bed, trying it get comfortable
I can't sleep
I've been laying in bed for hours
I know it's because I wasn't able to talk to Yoongi tonight
BTS had a concert last night and when they have concerts he can't call me
I know they did a vlive too and he went to bed really late
He's probably exhausted and slept all day
I understand
I'm not mad, I know how he operates on concert days
On little to no sleep and he crashes all day the next day
I just miss him
As I'm turning again, I hear a noise
It sounds like it's coming from the front door
Like jiggling
I quiet down and listen hard
I hear the front door open and I'm immediately alert
The door shouldn't be opening
The only ones who have keys are me and Yoongi
And Yoongi is thousands of miles away
Carefully, I get up from the bed, tip toeing to the open door
Quietly, I leave the room, going out into the hallway, ready to run or fight if I need to
A figure steps into the long hallway from the living room and I gape, not sure I'm seeing who I'm seeing
"Yoongi?", I gasp
"Jagi", he whispers, starting to come to me
I don't think, my body immediately goes into a run towards him
I get to him in seconds, crashing into him as he picks me up, his lips immediately against mine
I kiss him desperately, so shocked he's here but so fucking happy and relieved
His arms hold me tightly, keeping me against him, my legs and arms locked around his waist and neck
I don't know how long we kissed for but for me it's never enough
When the kiss does end, I lean my forehead against his, just basking in him being home
"I missed you so much", I whisper
"I missed you jagi"
"How...how are you here naekkeo? Shouldn't you be in the U.S.?"
As much as I want him here, I don't want him to get into trouble
"I couldn't stay away from you a minute longer jagi", he tells me softly, "I just can't. I can't spend another six weeks away from you, Jo. I can't do it baby"
"I can't either naekkeo", I say, knowing exactly how he feels
Like everything is colorless, lifeless without him
"I think about you all day jagi. I miss you so fucking much it hurts. I hate that you're so far from me. I don't think I ever cried so much from being away from you"
I know
This whole time has been so fucking hard, so heartbreaking
I want him to be on tour, I know how much he loves performing, I just hate that he has to be away from me to do it
"It's the same for me baby", I tell him, "I just want you so much it hurts. I want you to be able to perform naekkeo but I don't want you to be away"
"I don't want to be away either jagi"
"What are we going to do baby?", I ask, worried
He's here now but he can't stay
He has the rest of the tour to do, his ARMYS are counting on him
"You're coming back with me", he says
"Yoongi", I start, "My job naekkeo"
The stupid reason I had to stay behind
There was no way my boss would let me take two months off to go with him
"I called him jagi", he tells me, "I spoke to your boss and after a lot of convincing and proving who I was, he agreed to let you have the time off for the rest of the tour"
I gape at him, in shock
My asshole boss caved to Yoongi?
What did Yoongi say to him?
"You won't be paid for the time jagi but it doesn't matter. We have enough money"
"That's your money Yoongi"
He shakes his head, "You keep saying that jagi but it's not. It's ours. You're my wife, the love of my life, everything that's mine is yours from even before we were married baby. You know you don't even have to work jagi but you insist on it"
Of course I do
I'm not a mooch
Just because he's rich doesn't mean I can spend his money
I was never with him for the money or the potential money as we met in high school and have been together since then, when we were both broke
He works hard, he sacrificed in the beginning of BTS, the money and success he has is because of him
I even offered to sign a pre-nup before we got married and he was actually offended I even suggested it
He declined it, shocking me and he always maintains that the money and everything that comes from it is ours
"Yoongi-"
"You know you don't jagi. You know I would give you anything you ask for, do anything for you", he says softly, "And I'm good with you wanting to work baby but I need you with me. I can't go back without you. Please jagi, say you'll come with me. Please"
"Of course I'm going to come with you", I whisper, running my fingers in his black hair, "Even if I had to quit, find another job after the tour, I would come naekkeo. I can't be apart from you any more baby. I need you"
His entire body relaxes as he breathes in relief
"Ok jagi. Thank you"
"Shh baby, don't thank me. Just like you, I'll do anything for you naekkeo, give you anything you want", I assure him, "I want to be wherever you are. And if you have to be in the U.S. I'm going with you"
He nods, "Ok jagi. I love you"
"I love you Yoongi"
His lips press against mine, my heart filling with utter joy that he's here
He carries me to our room, laying me on the bed, his lips never leaving mine
He moves next to me, my body turning to his, our arms around each other
I kiss him passionately, falling into him after weeks of missing him
His kiss is everything, his arms around me is heaven
He's my everything, my world
The kiss becomes heated, his tongue against mine, our hands desperately touching each other
"I missed you", I murmur between kisses while pulling his shirt up
Her separates from me long enough to get his shirt off mine following
"I missed you too, you have no idea"
"I do naekkeo, I missed you just as much"
He smiles his gorgeous smile right before kissing me, his hand slowly pulling down my pj pants and panties
Once they're off, I slide my hands down his sweatpants, getting them and his boxers off
I want him so badly
Three weeks of no physical contact is catching up to us
He moves on top of me, laying between my open legs, his warm smooth skin right against mine
His forehead leans against mine as I move my arms around him, my hand on his back, slowly running my palms up and down, feeling him
He moans softly, his skin trembling under my hands
I slide my hands up, moving over and along his strong shoulders, up his neck, sinking my fingers in his soft hair
We shift slightly, our lips against each other's, kissing desperately
I feel his length at my entrance and I drop my hands to his hips, pulling him closer to me
He takes the hint, his cock sliding inside, my pussy stretching around his thick shaft, pleasure tingling throughout every cell of my body
He whimpers into the kiss as he pushes in inch by inch, my pussy getting wetter and wetter, impaling me on his huge thick dick
My body arches from the pleasure, letting him slide in faster, bottoming out quicker, his head nestled against my spot
I shiver under him, squeezing his cock involuntarily hard
"Fuck", he groans, moving his arm around my waist and holding me against him, "You feel so good jagi. Always so tight for me. So wet"
"Mmm", I murmur, shivering against his lips that found their way to my neck, "And you feel good naekkeo. So hard, all the fucking time"
I purposely clench around his cock, his moan so hot as I enjoy the hard feeling of him buried inside me
"You make me this way jagi", he whimpers, "Fuck, anything you do turns me on. If I could stay inside you all fucking day, I would"
I giggle, kissing the top of his head, "I'd definitely let you baby"
I happen to really enjoy having him inside my pussy
Even if we're just laying here
We don't have to have sex
Cock warming is a huge thing with us, it's something we both love
He lifts his head from my neck, smiling, then kissing me softly
I fall into his kiss as he begins to move, slowly pulling out a little bit then slamming back inside
His head hits my spot, stars blasting in my vision, every nerve on my body alive and electrified
With every stroke he pulls out more and more, until he pulls out to his head, then buries back inside me
He moves at a good pace, fucking me into the bed and my head is in the clouds from the sheer pleasure
He press kisses against every inch of skin he can, my body trembling under his lips
His hand slides slowly up my body from my waist, up my arm, his hand taking mine, intertwining our fingers
I close my hand around his, holding on tightly
His other arm is next to my head, leaning on it as he moves, thrusting into my pussy again and again
"Yoongi", I moan in bliss, closing my eyes as I just feel him
Feel his body against mine, his skin against mine, his cock moving inside me
I'm loving every single second of it
Each smack against my spot brings me closer, my legs tighting around his waist, my pussy throbbing around his cock hard
I'm so hot and sweaty, panting for breath, my fingers digging into his back, my other hand clenching his
"You're so fucking beautiful", he whispers
I open my eyes to find him looking down at me, watching, love pouring from his eyes, "My God, I'm so fucking lucky you're mine"
I smile shyly, "No naekkeo, I'm so lucky you're mine. I love you"
"I love you Jo", he murmurs, his lips finding mine
His kiss combined with him sliding back into me, right into my spot, have me shaking and coming on his thick cock
"Yoongi", I moan between kisses, the intense pleasure washing over me, my pussy clenching around him hard
He moans, his hips not stopping, rolling into me, fucking me through my orgasm
As the pleasure fades, I relax into the bed, Yoongi kissing all over my body as he pulls out
My skin jumps with every press of his lips, his hot kisses feeling so fucking good
He kisses my lower stomach, my hand finding its way into his damp hair, tangling in the strands
He moves down slowly, now pressing kisses against my pussy, pushing my legs wide open
I feel his tongue on me, licking up slowly, my body shivering in bliss
He groans loudly, his tongue moving a bit faster, "So fucking good"
"Yoongi", I whine, feeling so fucking good
My god, I missed this, missed him
His hands grip my legs tightly, his tongue dipping into my hole, my pussy clenching down on it immediately
He licks out and up, his tongue rolling over my clit, my body arching from the increased pleasure swarming over me
His tongue slides back down, circling my hole before dipping in, shoving as much in as he can, then pulling out, sliding up and flicking my clit
He repeats the motions over and over, my cunt getting wetter with every move of his talented tongue
I know I'm completely soaking his face and I know he loves it
"My baby tastes so good", he groans, tongue swirling around my clit, driving me fucking insane, "My baby's pussy is so fucking good. So fucking sweet"
God, he's so hot
The way he's so into eating me out makes everything feel ten times better
I like knowing that he really enjoys doing it instead of feeling like he has to
His tongue move faster, all over my clit, my hips moving on their own, fucking his face, knowing that this is another thing he loves
"Yes baby, fuck yes", he urges, "Don't stop jagi"
His mouth wraps around my clit, sucking hard and I scream his name, squirting a little on his face
"Mmm", he moans, his mouth moving faster, slurping around my clit, the pleasure so fucking intense, my entire body is shaking and my head is empty
I tug his hair tightly, his next suck sending me straight into a mind shattering orgasm
"Yoongi!", I scream, coming on his face, his tongue driving right into my hole, his mouth sucking and swallowing my cum
I can't think, don't know which way is up, all I can do is ride the waves of bliss
It's so intense, so mind numbingly pleasurable
God, Yoongi is the king of oral
His licking slows down as I finish, his eyes already on me when I look down at him
He smirks, kissing my inner thigh, his tongue licking up my cunt one more time
"So good jagi"
I sit up just as he does and I move closer to him, kissing him hard
His tongue moves in my mouth as I climb in his lap, pushing him down on the bed
I follow, kissing him silly, running my fingers in his sweaty hair
He moves me over his length and I sit, taking him in immediately
I'm so wet, I slide all the way down his cock so easily, moving my hips to rock on him
His hands grab my ass, holding on as his hips lift, keeping his cock as deep as he can inside me while I grind on him
Breaking the kiss, I lean on his shoulders, starting to bounce softly on his cock
"Fuck jagi", he groans, his fingers digging into my skin, "Fuck"
"God Yoongi", I cry, his cock spreading my pussy so deliciously, tingles are running up my spine, "So good baby, so fucking good"
He nods, his eyes glued on me as I ride him faster, harder, "Fuck baby, that pussy looks so good on my dick. Creaming my cock so much, it's pouring out of you"
It is, I can feel it, all over this cock, all over his lap, the sticky feeling making me so horny
"Mmm do you hear how loud your pussy is?", he asks as I indeed hear how loud the squelching is, "Fuck, missed me this much?"
"Yes naekkeo", I moan, grinding down on his cock when I take him all in, his head rubbing my spot, making my body shiver, "Missed you so fucking much"
"Missed you too jagi", he groans
"I know", I smirk, his throbbing cock so stiff inside my cunt, "I feel how much you missed me"
He smiles his gorgeous smile, his eyes travelling from my pussy up my body to my face
"So pretty baby", he says softly, "So good at riding my cock"
I smirk, nodding, our skin slamming together loudly with every move, "You know how much I love riding you"
He nods
It's our favorite position, the one we fuck in the most
I don't know, my legs do get tired sometimes but it takes awhile for that to happen and when it does, I still don't stop
I can get him in so much deeper, bounce on him, rock or grind on his dick
And he can fuck me too so it's not just me always fucking him
The best part, for me, is that I get to watch him
Watch him in pleasure, watch him cum
He's so fucking beautiful it's insane
And that's what I do now
Looking down at him, watching him in pleasure, the sight such a fucking turn on
His eyes closed, his head pushed back into the pillow, his mouth slightly open, breathing hard, his hair wet with sweat, his fingers digging into my hips, sweat shortening on his skin as he whimpers my name, begging me to not stop in his sexy voice
He's so fucking stunning without even trying
And he's all mine
Leaning down, I whisper in his ear, "Cum for me naekkeo"
"Oh god, fuck", he groans, holding my hips hard and thrusting up, meeting my bounces, sliding deep inside
We move together, fucking each other, both of us getting fucked out and desperate to cum, moaning loudly
"Yoongi! Yoongi!", I cry, unbelievable ecstacy slamming into every crevice of my body as he fucks me into an earth shattering orgasm
"Fuck Joanne! Jagi!", he cries, his cock pulsing, his warm cum filling me, his body shaking under me
I force my eyes open and watch the complete ethereal sight of him orgasming
I never want to miss seeing this
I rock on his cock, making the pleasure last a little longer for both of us, our bodies relaxing as the bliss so slowly leaves
I move off him but don't go far, snuggling in his arm, my head on his chest, listening to his rapid heartbeat
His fingers run slowly up and down my back, giving me shivers
"When do we have to leave tomorrow?", I ask
He looks down at me, smiling, "Don't worry jagi, I got a later flight. 5 pm"
"Oh thank God", I giggle
He laughs, "I knew you'd want to spend as much time in bed together as you can"
I raise my eyebrow, "As if you don't want that either"
"Of course I want that baby", he agrees, "We can slack off for awhile, then I'll help you pack and we can go"
"Back to Texas?"
"California", he answers
I nod, "Ok"
"Ok", he nods
I gaze in his beautiful dark brown eyes, reaching up and running my fingers in his hair, "I love you so much Yoongi"
"I love you so much Jo. So fucking much"
I know he does
I'm so lucky to have found someone who loves me as much as I love them
Yoongi is the best thing that has ever happened to me
He's my everything
I lean closer, my lips against his in a soft loving kiss
His arms hold me tightly as he kisses me back and I'm so glad he came back for me
#bts yoongi fanfic#min yoongi fanfic#yoongi fanfic#suga fanfic#bts suga fanfic#bts yoongi smut#min yoongi smut#yoongi smut#bts suga smut#suga smut#bts fanfic#bts smut#Youtube
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The Arcana M6 When MC Is Crunchy
For context, MC can crack every joint in their body (knuckles, back, knees, hips, the whole shebang) and one day they just get on all fours before twisting and bending and making this horrific cracking crunching bone noise right in front of their terrified LI
(This is extremely self servient)
Asra
In all fairness, they already knew. Does that mean they're used to it? It's complicated
You were gone for a long enough time that he forgot what it was like to live with a human sheet of bubble wrap
The first time he heard your crunching after they brought you back, happy tears flooded his eyes, because it was such a you thing, if that makes sense
They're a little sad they can't do it too, though
Of all the LIs, he's absolutely the least disturbed, and at the end of the day, he thinks it's pretty sick
Nadia
Oh dear. That's not right
More concerned than anything, immediately takes you to the court physician to figure out just what's wrong with you
You will be rushed there as quickly as possible before you even realize what's wrong or have the opportunity to say anything
When you gently explain to her that you're just built a little strangely she'll just sit there and stare at you, dumbfounded
Then she'll throw her head back and let out a relieved, hearty laugh
You see a shiver go up her spine every time you do the crunch ritual though (she's trying really hard to be supportive)
Julian
Holy shit. Him too.
Imagine all the mischief you two could get up to! Crawling out from beneath the bar tables and scaring the shit out of everyone in the joint (pun intended) with your full-body crunches? If you're down he's down is all he's saying–
He's mostly sure that it's not bad for you or anything. Probably. Actually he never really cared to check, seeing as he's lacking a little in the self-care department
Mazelinka can sense when it's about to happen and gives you the most soul devouring glare whenever either of you is about to crunch
Portia
She's devastated.
Growing up, Julian could always do that, and you know what? She was always really jealous. She cannot physically pop one joint in her whole entire being
And she hates it with a passion
She doesn't hate you, of course... but she will work until she inevitably burns out trying to distract herself from you and her brother's shared ability
She comes home one day, declaring that she's come to terms with not being able to do it as well, but she is glad that you and Julian have something in common. You're glad she's happy, even though it's been three weeks since the crackening
This will make for great teasing material in the future if you're willing to utilize it
Muriel
He does posess the ability to crack his knuckles and neck, but anything beyond that is a little much
The first time he saw/heard your full body crunches it was on the trip with Morga, who stood next to him, watching in morbid fascination
His right hand flew up over his mouth and he started towards you like he thought he should help, before stepping back. He realized he has no idea how to help you and waited it out in horror
Now the joint cracking just puts the fear of god into him a little bit
He has SO many questions (he'll never ask but he definitely has them)
He still loves and accepts you, no matter what quirks or flaws you have (but seriously though what the heck)
Lucio
MC what are you doing...?
OH GOD.
He hates it. The sound makes his skin crawl and he thinks there's something wrong with you, no matter how many times you explain to him that you're okay
...but he's not going to give up on you. He goes to dozens of "medical professionals" to try and find some sort of miracle cure to fix you (your poor wallet lol)
Still brags about it to random people for no reason, even though he seriously, genuinely, honestly, truly DESPISES the crunch
Morga thinks it's great
Btw just thought I should clarify, these full body joint crunches are genuinely horrific, which is why the M6 had such strong reactions 😭😭
Imagine bending into horrible knotted shapes while the loudest most eardrum shattering crunches come from you, for an extended period of time if that helps 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
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until it doesn't hurt
pairing: Bruce Banner/Reader
the reader's race and gender are ambiguous; no pronouns or physical descriptors are used.
summary: “I could’ve caused you irreversible harm,” Bruce says. It’s almost a practiced recitation at this point, and you have to wonder if he truly believes that—or if he’s just been conditioned by everyone around him to believe he is only capable of inflicting pain.
“You didn’t,” you maintain, for what feels like the thousandth time. Bruce is so caught up in the hypotheticals that he refuses to see the success right in front of him: the fact that he didn’t so much as lay a finger on you.
word count: 2.9k | ao3 version
warnings: canon-typical violence
Being an Avenger means you have to be ready for anything at all times. That spontaneity is difficult to adjust to at first, but as time passes, you grow used to it. You grow used to sleeping lightly; to stashing weapons just about anywhere you can keep them; to having few restful days and many restless ones. The moment your powers manifested, you knew you would be a hero: not because you wanted to be one, but because it would be your responsibility to protect those who needed protecting.
You weren’t always an Avenger. At first, you were just a rogue—kind of a vigilante. But then the attack on New York happened—Loki happened—and everything flew out the window. Suddenly, you were out on the street in broad daylight, trying your best to keep the civilians safe. That was how you crashed into Iron Man of all people. You exchanged banter and insults, but when it came down to it, you protected him, and he protected you. And Tony is extremely persistent—it didn’t take long for him to sink his claws into you and drag you back to the Avengers Tower.
From there, you gradually get to know the other Avengers. Steve and Clint are relatively friendly right off the bat. Natasha is a bit more difficult—you have to earn her trust before she starts to open up to you. But eventually, somehow, you manage to bond with all of the other occupants of the Tower. At least, all of them except Bruce Banner.
Bruce is an interesting case. He almost immediately dismissed you when Tony first introduced you, instead deigning to focus on his experiments. You hadn’t taken offense to Bruce’s reclusive behavior, nor had you taken the hint that he didn’t want to get to know you. Instead, you had all but forced him to acknowledge you. This manifested in a multitude of ways: from going out of your way to talk to him to offering to help with his research. Bruce is extremely protective of his laboratory, but somehow he deemed you capable enough to serve as his laboratory assistant. You were more than content to hand him capsules and adjust minor things, while he did the brunt of the work. You took the gifted opportunities to attempt to get to know him better. At first, it was like speaking to a brick wall. But somewhere along the way, his cold and uncaring façade began to crack. You slowly worked your way up to meaningless small talk—and, later, casual conversation.
Truthfully, you really enjoy spending time with Bruce. But he’s rather unpredictable—sometimes he’ll push you away, and other times he’ll play along. You know that he has a lot of baggage—what with his childhood and his alter-ego. You’ve been trying to convince him that you care about him—that you’re not going to abandon him or villainize him—but he doesn’t ever seem to believe you. He always conducts himself with some semblance of suspicion and doubt; it almost seems like he’s waiting for you to wake up to reality and run away screaming.
Still, progress is progress—no matter how slow. You’re happy with how you’ve slowly bonded with him, and you can only hope that there’s more on the horizon for the both of you.
…You never consider the possibility that something could happen to make things worse—to destroy your progress and send you right back to the start.
“We need you for something.”
You’re brutally torn from your reverie, forced to slowly come back to yourself. You’re sitting in the living room, staring ahead at the blank wall. How long have you been sitting here? All you know is that it’s no longer light outside, and that Natasha is standing in front of you with a firm expression.
“I- what?” You stammer, still processing what’s happening. “Nat-”
“It’s important,” she says. You get to your feet before she can continue speaking. “Trust me.” You do trust her. Natasha isn’t one for over-exaggeration or dramatics; when she says something is important, she means it. And the grave expression on her face is only worrying you more. You follow after her as she walks down the hall and towards the elevators. The two of you step into the space and she presses a button, before the elevator slowly rises.
In hindsight, perhaps you should’ve been a bit more suspicious. Why would she be taking you to another floor in the Tower? Typically, when there’s a new development or an imminent threat, you’ll be directed to another location—either to combat the threat or to strategize. Furthermore, there’s a strained silence in the air between Natasha and you. Nat’s shoulders are drawn tight and she’s staring ahead pointedly, as if avoiding your eyes.
The elevator dings and you breathe an internal sigh of relief, hoping to get rid of this needless tension. But before you can begin to take a step, you’re being roughly shoved out of the elevator and into the hallway. It takes you several moments to get your bearings—at which point you recognize the telltale sounds of the doors behind you closing, and the elevator dropping back down to where you came. You stare at the closed doors in disbelief, before turning to look back down the hall. One of the recreational rooms is straight ahead, and you hear yelling.
Once you’re standing in the doorway, you’re able to place the inexplicable noises you were hearing. Bruce is in his Hulk form, green and raging as he throws anything within his grasp at the walls around him. You’re willing to bet Natasha brought you here to do something about this. Why she thinks you’re the best person to calm Bruce down, you’re not sure.
“Bruce,” you say slowly. Bruce promptly freezes, an exercise machine lifted over his head. He stares down at you; you stare up at him. He’s momentarily distracted by you. “It’s okay.” He’s silent. You hold your hands out at your sides in mock surrender. “I’m not here to hurt you,” you continue. “You’re safe.”
Silence. You take a slow breath. The machine he’s holding over his head drops a fraction of an inch.
“It’s okay, Bruce.” You repeat, pushing as much conviction into your voice as you can. Your effort seems to work, as his eyebrows furrow. For a moment, there’s nothing but silence as the two of you stare at each other. Then, his visage shifts and you’re suddenly looking at Bruce Banner—disheveled and exhausted.
“Are you alright-?” You’re compelled to ask. The scientist is back in human form, wearing nothing but a tattered pair of pants; bruises and scratches litter his skin; and there’s a distant expression on his face. He seems to snap out of his trance when he hears your voice.
“What the hell are you doing?” Bruce then spits. You immediately flinch at the unexpected anger. “Seriously, what the fuck are you doing here?” His gaze is flitting about the room quickly, before settling on you with fevered intensity. You’ve never seen Bruce look so irate before. He’s a remarkably composed man (although you suspect he bottles up anger and rage and lets it out in bursts as the Hulk). Indeed, this kind of fury is typical for the Hulk, but exceedingly rare for Bruce.
“I didn’t-” You choke out helplessly, glancing back at the hall and, by extension, the elevator. “They-” It’s inexplicably difficult for you to get the words out.
“That was our doing.” A voice confesses from behind you. You turn around to find Nat and Tony standing behind you. The two of them approach and come to a stop at your side.
Bruce’s gaze locks on them with fiery focus. He brings a hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose. His glasses are nowhere to be seen—he must’ve dropped them somewhere as he transformed. “I expected better from both of you.”
“Bruce-” Tony tries to say, an apologetic expression on his face.
“What on earth made you think that throwing them out as bait was a good idea?” Bruce interjects furiously, motioning towards you. “You could’ve gotten them seriously injured!” He exclaims. Tony has the good grace to look embarrassed; Nat is staring ahead with a flat expression and her arms crossed over her chest.
“Bruce, I’m fine-” You try to say, quickly growing uncomfortable with the tension settling in the air.
“I could’ve harmed you,” Bruce is quick to assert. “Easily.” His voice is cold.
“But you didn’t,” you maintain. He’s not giving himself enough credit. More troubling is the idea that he has faith in his own cruelty—that he only sees himself as capable of harming someone. You don’t know what else to say, don’t know what could possibly be said to repair the evident years of damage done to this man’s psyche. The entire world has treated him as a weapon at best and an uncontrollable, irredeemable monster at worst.
“That doesn’t matter,” Bruce says with unshakeable certainty. He retreats from the room, leaving you to stare after him in confusion and shock. You turn to face Natasha and Tony, who are both staring at the doorway with complex looks.
You want to tell them off, but the words that leave your lips are far different than you intend them to be. “Should I go after him?” You ask instead. Bruce is the primary concern right now—you can chew Tony and Nat out later. You’ve known him for a bit now, and have grown to interpret his expressions fairly easily. You’ve seen Bruce express a lot of emotions… but the look on his face just now is completely foreign to you.
“Probably,” Tony admits.
“I don’t think we should,” Natasha says, motioning towards Tony and herself. “He’s mad at us. And… rightfully so.” She exchanges a glance with Tony, whose lips are pressed in a thin line. It’s clear they didn’t give enough thought to their whole plan.
“You’ll be fine, though,” Tony says with unfounded conviction. Nat places a hand on your shoulder and grips it reassuringly. You take a deep breath and come to a decision, walking down the hall and towards the elevator doors.
Moments later, you’re walking out of the lift and down the dim hallway leading to Bruce’s bedroom. He’s entirely alone on this floor of the tower. You pause in front of his door for a few seconds, wondering if you should walk away. But you can’t. Instead, you knock on the door four times. “Bruce?” You ask. Despite the clear sturdiness of the door, he’s able to hear you.
“Go away.” Bruce responds. His voice is a little muffled, and you have to strain to hear him.
You’re hurt for the briefest of moments. Then you shelf the feeling and resolve yourself to tackling it later. “I’m coming in,” you announce, placing your hand against the scanner at the edge of the doorway. The scanner flashes green and the door slides open, revealing Bruce’s bedroom. You’ve never been here before. It’s modestly decorated, with mostly monotone shades. Nothing particularly strikes you, save for the giant desk in the corner of the room. Papers litter the entire surface of the desk, and a few are covered by Bruce’s arms.
The man doesn’t look up as you approach. “I don’t want to see you,” Bruce says. His back is turned and you’re unable to see his expression.
“I don’t care,” you respond, taking a few steps into the space until you’re a short (yet seemingly insurmountable) distance from Bruce. He’s sitting at his desk, rubbing his hands over his eyes roughly. It doesn’t take long for you to remember your guilt. “Bruce, I don’t want you to torture yourself over this.” Maybe you shouldn’t have interfered in the first place.
“I could’ve caused you irreversible harm,” Bruce says. It’s almost a practiced recitation at this point, and you have to wonder if he truly believes that—or if he’s just been conditioned by everyone around him to believe he is only capable of inflicting pain.
“You didn’t,” you maintain, for what feels like the thousandth time. Bruce is so caught up in the hypotheticals that he refuses to see the success right in front of him: the fact that he didn’t so much as lay a finger on you.
“No, I don’t think you understand,” Bruce says with a shake of his head. He pushes himself out of his chair and gets to his feet, turning around to face you. Your eyes widen as you notice the torn expression on his face, the dark circles under his eyes, and the determination written in every line of his form. “My eyes locked onto you and, for a split second, I envisioned harming you. Deliberately.” The confession clings to the air like a vice.
“But you didn’t act on that impulse,” you assert. “You suppressed it.”
“So?” Bruce argues. “I still had the urge. You should be disgusted, afraid-”
“I’m not afraid of you, Bruce,” you interrupt. The statement lingers heavily in the air between the two of you. For a long moment, there’s nothing but the faint hum you’ve grown to associate with the Tower itself.
“You should be,” Bruce then mutters. And suddenly he’s standing in front of you, staring at you with a dark gaze. His fists are clenched at his sides and you see his skin flicker with shades of green, before it returns to normal. The man maneuvers you to the side and shoves you, until you’re hitting the wall behind you. Bruce’s hands move up to your shirt collar and he clenches at it, his fingers almost spasming as he tightens his grip. You just stare at him. “I could ruin you.” He murmurs, so quietly that you have to strain to hear it.
You want to argue with him so badly, but that strategy hasn’t been working so far. For some reason, Bruce has convinced himself that he not only has the capacity to hurt you, but that he wants to. You know that can’t be true, but how can you convince him? If he thinks he can ruin you… “Then do it,” you challenge him. He meets your eyes once more and you stare back unflinchingly, trying to convey how much you trust him.
If you thought the tension was suffocating before, it’s practically ripping the breath from your lungs now. Everything around you seems to fade into obscurity. All you can see is Bruce; all you can feel is Bruce. His fingers twitch and his grip falls from your collar. For an awful moment, you think he’s going to walk away—turn his back on you as he has done so many times before. But he doesn’t. Instead, he leans closer. If he’s trying to get you to back down, then it isn’t working.
At first, you want to think that Bruce is testing you. But the way he’s regarding you right now—with glittering desire in his eyes—makes you think otherwise. His hands move from the wall to your shoulders, back to the nape of your neck, until he gently tugs you forward. It’s hardly a strong pull, and you understand the choice he’s giving you.
But, you think fondly, there was never much of a choice. From the moment you locked eyes with him, you knew he would dominate your thoughts. And indeed, he has. You think about the hard-won look of approval in his eyes when you make an astute observation; the way he almost frantically looks across the battlefield, his posture instantly relaxing once he sees you; the contradictions written all over his skin; the rare smiles you felt privileged to see.
You lean forward and press your lips to his. Bruce is quick to reciprocate, his hands lingering at the nape of your neck before slipping down to your waist. You lock your arms around his shoulders, practically trapping him in your embrace. But from the strength of his grip, you can ascertain that the gesture is more than welcome.
Later, when you break apart, Bruce has a disbelieving expression on his face. He looks slightly dazed, as if suspicious of the reality he now finds himself in. You grasp his wrist gently.
“You can’t get rid of me, Bruce,” You murmur insistently, “...no matter how hard you try.”
He stares at you for another long moment. “And I have tried,” Bruce admits through a dry huff. You want to be offended by the comment, but you know it’s true. Bruce is stupidly self-sacrificing—he purposefully keeps his distance from people to protect them. But the reality of the situation is that people will come to harm regardless of his presence. “But you’re too stubborn.” That statement is spoken with a significant amount of fondness, and his hand comes up to cradle your cheek. You bring your hand up to rest on top of his.
“I’ll always be here, even when you don’t want me to be.” You promise. And maybe that promise isn’t yours to make, because one can never truly predict what will come next. But somehow, deep down, you know it to be true.
Bruce brings you close once more, an uncharacteristic note of boldness in the fluid movement. When you step back moments later, you find that he has a hint of a smile on his face. “I know,” Bruce says, the traces of apprehension on his face breaking and cracking to reveal a rare sight: unrestrained affection.
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fix | l.dh
haechan x gn!reader
slightly suggestive, angst
found this buried in the drafts, not proofread soooo yeah :)
wc: ~1.2k
---
you wonder if you could have fixed donghyuck. the thought plagues your mind with each waking moment. it knocks at your self-esteem and draws an abundance of salty tears from your pretty eyes he once said he loved oh so much.
all your friends tell you that no, you couldn't have fixed him. you couldn't mend the scars that marred his heart no matter how hard you tried. in spite of the soft touches between silk bedsheets, warm kisses in the morning sunbeams, and the loving exchanges of glances and giggles, you couldn't fix him and his issues.
because lee donghyuck is beyond repair.
that's what you tell yourself when you lock gazes with him from across a busy house party. in an instant, your conversation with jisung and chenle seems to fade into the background as the bass radiating from the speakers is drowned out by the pace of your heart. it's been six months since you last laid eyes on him, but he still has a dizzying effect on you.
the black jean jacket he's wearing makes your brain short-circuit. you recognize it as the one you got him for his birthday last year. the tan peaks of his collarbones look more alluring than ever in his familiar white tank top, the one that you used to tear off him each night. his hair is longer, coming down and creating messy frills at the base of his neck, just the way you liked it. for someone who ghosted you when you needed him most, he seems to keep up well with your preferences.
the world stops for a second when he meets your gaze. even with bumping music and the obnoxious laughter of wasted seniors, you swear you can hear a pin drop. because nothing matters in that moment.
because it's just you and donghyuck. that's how he makes you feel. when you're with him, the worries of the world fry away and become muffled static.
he's always made you feel like this. ever since the day you met him at one of jaehyun's themed christmas parties, you'd been completely enthralled in his carefree nature, honey-dripped voice, and witty tongue. it all came crashing down the moment you brought up your messy relationship status after months of being trapped in friends-with-benefits limbo and found yourself blocked on all social media platforms.
"you okay?"
a soft nudge from jeno brings you back to reality. you force yourself to tear your eyes away from your ex.
"yeah," you hum, opting to focus on the sickening red liquid in your cup. "i'm alright."
you can tell jeno's concerned, but he doesn't pry. instead, he offers you a comforting smile and a pat on the shoulder. "let's find nana, he's probably waiting for us to get back with the drinks."
the two of you collect an array of beer cans, oversized soda bottles, and a few cups of whatever was left in the punch bowl before heading towards a quiet corner of the house. the only noise emanating from jeno's bedroom door is the hushed chatter of the television.
"you're back. i got the tv working." jaemin helps you with the drinks, setting them carefully on the bedside drawer while he sneaks a glance at your troubled expression. "what happened to you? you look like you've seen a ghost."
you can only give him a strained smile. "nothing... i just.. donghyuck's here."
jeno's face contorts for a few uneasy seconds of silence before he speaks.
"i invited him, i'm sorry," he sighs. he looks apologetic as he runs a hand through his messy black hair. "he wouldn't quit bugging me about it, so i just told him he could come.. as long as he stayed away from you and didn't try anything."
jaemin scoffs. "he's donghyuck. of course he's going to try something." he stands to shut the door to jeno's room and plops himself right onto the bed. "but let's forget about it for now, okay? he can't do anything if we're up here watching movies like losers."
that makes you laugh. you nod your head in approval, this time flashing a genuine smile to jaemin and a small nod to jeno, who takes it as a sign of forgiveness and settles in his seat next to you on the scratchy old rug he's had since freshman year.
the hours fly by as the three of you get through movie after movie, making snarky comments and gasping at unexpected twists and turns. by the time the third movie ends, jaemin's snoozing upright on the floor, an empty beer bottle still in his hand. jeno's eyes are wide open and focused on netflix's overwhelming catalog of rom-coms when your bladder decides it's time.
"bathroom break," you say as you stand and dust your sweater off.
"want me to wait?"
"no, i'll be quick." you yawn and slip out of the secluded bedroom.
by this time, the party has died down and the house is quiet save for some soft whispers. you can see the lights on in renjun's room as you pass and hear a few voices discussing inside on your way to the bathroom.
you jump when the door opens. you nearly have a heart attack when you notice who's coming out.
"y/n?"
your blood runs cold. you could recognize his voice anywhere.
you're quick to compose yourself before you turn to greet him, your brain forcibly tugging the corners of your mouth up into a fake smile. "hey, donghyuck. didn't know you'd be here."
his lips twitch a bit in amusement as he examines you. you can feel his sultry eyes wandering along your frame as he takes in the familiar sight of you, one that he vividly remembers waking up to on a regular basis.
"damn, full name? what happened to 'hyuck'?" he banters. his slight smirk widens a bit as he sees through your obvious act. "jeno didn't tell you i was coming?" he seems entertained, a small chuckle leaving his plush lips.
you shake your head and avert your gaze to the floor. you're afraid if you stare at him any longer the last of your emotional resolve will crumble and you'll end up crying. you can already feel your eyes welling up, and if this goes on you know you'll burst into tears.
"n-no, he didn't. but i actually have to go now so i'll just.." you shakily gesture towards the end of the hallway.
donghyuck stops you before you can make your mad dash, closing in on your figure. his footsteps are light against the carpeted floor. he stops just in front of you and reaches a hand up, gently lifting your chin.
"so soon?" he asks. his voice is seductive and feathery.
it's alarming how fast your brain short-circuits when you finally meet his gaze. he's always known how to bother you, annoy you, seduce you. you have the hots for him, and he knows it well. he plays the game of love like he owns it, like he owns you.
in an attempt to escape, you push his hand away and take a step back. "yeah. jaemin and jeno are asleep anyways so i-i was just gonna head out."
he pauses for a bit before responding. his response nearly puts you into cardiac arrest.
"alone? it's two a.m." he hums. "maybe i should drive you home."
"i-i don't think that's necessary, donghyuck. i can walk or call an uber or something. and you've been drinking right? so it's just not a great idea—"
"i haven't been drinking." you feel small under his gaze. "and it's dangerous. just let me take you home."
his tone is more demanding this time, like he knows that's all it takes to get you to give in. he's spot-on.
the car ride to your apartment is quiet, with only the soft chatter from the late-night radio filling the space. you sit stiffly in a seat you once owned as donghyuck's passenger princess, spotting a few remnants of previous affairs in this cupholders and floor mats. bobbie pins, scrunchies, and even a few pieces of jewelry are scattered on the outskirts of his car.
when you finally arrive, you sense him turning towards you. he stops you as you move to unbuckle your seat belt.
"i miss you." he says softly.
it's incredible how he draws tears from you with just three words. the affirmation is all it takes for your walls to crumble completely. it's the last crack that demolishes the dam keeping your watery eyes and emotions in check.
"hyuck.." the first few tears flow down your cheeks. "stop."
"stop what?"
"this. you ghosted me after i told you i loved you. i don't need to be reminded of that."
he sighs, a twinge of annoyance present. "that's in the past. you're still mad about that? it's not even that big of a deal. i mean, come on, you knew we were never that serious, it was less than two years so—"
you cut him off before he can even begin speaking. "hyuck, you really haven't changed at all. you're just like back then. you don't miss me, you miss feeling like you're in control. i'm not there anymore to boost your shitty ego or be your go-to every time you need a quick fuck. i'm not begging you to stay and crying every time i hear you're out with a new girl. i bet you miss making me cry. you're probably really enjoying this now, you fucking monster."
if there's one good thing this interaction is bringing, it's the truth.
there's a sense of catharsis that bellows from your core as you ream him in his own car. for months, you'd been wanting to tell him how much you resented him for leaving you without any answers, but he'd made it clear he had no intention of seeking you out or hearing your inquiries. not until today, at least. even with your answers now, you're not satisfied.
"are you done?" he asks. it feels incredibly condescending, but there's a familiarity to it that makes you whimper internally.
donghyuck always made you feel like it was just you and him. because he made you feel special. because he called you love and swatted off anxious texts regarding your whereabouts from friends and family. because he completely isolated you from the world and made you incredibly reliant on him. he blamed you for anything and everything. that was just who he was. and you learned the hard way that there was no fixing him, no matter how much you thought you could.
regardless, you gave in then.
and you give in again now, pulling him into your apartment he knows like the back of his hand while feverishly pressing your lips against his.
#nct dream#nct dream x reader#haechan#lee donghyuck#nct donghyuck#donghyuck x reader#haechan x reader#haechan angst#nct 127
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you ever think about how when it comes to bruce and his friends/family/love interests the same reason they fall in love is also the same reason they give him up?
#meaning his dedication to justice and gotham#like they just realize bruce will only efer truly belong to hus cause and his city?#and that they’ll never really have him - not completely#no matter how long they wait or how much they try to make it work#why do u think this mf’s been divorced to hell and back my lord#bruce wayne#ghostbat#brutalia#batcat#bruharvey#dc#batman#dc comics#this mf is soooo tragic i love him
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Odypen definitely and equivalently adore each other BUT I weirdly can't see them as the type to actually say "I Love you".
They still definitely vocalize their love for each other but it's more so in "My Joy", and "Extraordinary Woman", "Strange Woman/Man", etc. And very cheesy lines (both say some cheesy shit in the Odyssey, and he definitely does in the Iliad as well. "Joy like a drowning sailor seeing land" bit???)
I could see "I adore you" but even then, that's probably during very specific moments but the actual "I love you"??? I just typed it just now for fic shit and... It weirdly just didn't feel right and I don't know why. 😅
Idk maybe it's kind of because I see them as over the top in ways, they love wordplay and riddles and I think they'd almost think "...That's not good enough >:( " about it??? I don't know???😂
#I wrote this last night. I'll do the asks I got later. don't worry! :D#I am the cheese god remember?😅#I think these two would try to “out-cheese” each other and whoever is left speechless first loses#“I would forget my own name before I would ever forget you” bullshit. CHEESY#And yes. “I sleep in our nest with you or outside on the dirt” stupidity >:D#I plan for Odysseus as a beggar to ask why she waits so long. As he's been gone a longer amount of time than the time they had together#(Simply asking as reassurance. He knows his answer. Calypso asked him. but what about Penelope?) but she gets mad at the#“Beggar” and pities him as he must be telling the truth about having a miserable life if he never got the chance to know such devotion#How what they have could never be sullied by#something as trivial as distance and years. How the years with him were the best in her life. Only made better by their son.#'My dear Joy made songs and poems about love a reality as that was simply the life we shared. Even separated our 'song' will always echo#no matter how long it's been. I'LL make sure it always does. And I know he's doing the same... That strange man used to say that#even if he died his corpse would drag itself back to us before he'd ever give up.'#...I'm not one for 'odyssey zombie au' but when I first heard it yeah. :'D Came up with this back then#“His eyes as hard as flint or horn-” Bullshit! The sad lil fuck is hiding sobs with coughs and telling her to keep away for fear of her#catching whatever “illness” he has. The nice thing about being disguised as old means sickly old man works.#...#I'm noticing that Odysseus has a lot of silly oneliners while I write Penelope with a shit ton of set up :'D#They are so silly and I love them so much#...I wrote a lot :'D#Mad rambles#shot by odysseus#my headcanons#odypen#yahoo!!!#sometimes I wonder if I should tag this with more things but I don't want to taint the regular tags with my bullshit :'D I KNOW I'm insane
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god wants me to kill myself sooooo fucking bad lately lol nice try bitch im queer
#you dont even fuxking know#the number of. literally impossible coincidences that have taken place to make my life just so much shittier lately#i have been sooo strong ive written like two dozen text posts just bitching and bitching about the sheer fuxking insanity of it and i only#posted like one of them im doing so good being so strong#that said i want to fucking die today lol this shit is melting my brain#it just never ends#the past two weeks have just been... so bad lol#i havent been able to see my bank balance in weeks i just know im so in the fucking hole it doesnt even matter#i havent had a working phone in a month#my family just vacationed in hawaii and im living in a moldy trailer#and the physical and mental health just go and go and go#and the mold grows and groes and grows#my friend offered me a top of the line pc for free and it felt like offering a homeless guy who loves music a grand piano#like yeah lemme just keep that under the bridge downtown where i stay lol#itll be fine#its like all the nice things id love to experience are dangled just out of reach of my fuckin cell bars lol#might fuck around and get addicted to a third substance in light of hope being a fool's errand in a truly random universe#life isnt guarunteed to get better no matter how long you wait or how hard you try actually and that is a hard fucking truth for everyone#alcohol is free and can keep your mind off how much mold & dust you breathe daily & breathed in the past 2 years & thats also a hard truth#also reading this i need to clarify in case anyone else reads this shitsheet. i do not want to vacation in hawaii. colonizer shit#what i wouldnt fucking do for just a week up by priest lake tho :(
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Task force 141 reacting to their very pregnant wife still trying to clean, cook etc
This turned more into ‘Task force 141 preventing their very pregnant wife from trying to clean, cook, etc’ lmaooooo I hope that's alright
Price
HA! Good one!
No seriously, it's actually hilarious that you think you'd do anything for yourself when your hubby's around
That man has been waiting on you hand and foot since you first got together. So now that you're pregnant and you think he'd let you so much as lift a finger? You must have a serious case of pregnancy brain, sweetheart
Price is doing all the cooking, the cleaning, the running errands, etc. throughout the entirety of your pregnancy (and at least the first several months postpartum)
He's kept you practically bed bound these last few months to the point where you think there's a perfect indent of your body molded into the mattress
Seven months in, he's suddenly called away to a quick mission halfway across the globe, and you think finally you'll get some of your autonomy back...
Well, think again because who should show up at your door the next morning than your mother-in-law herself, ready to pick up where her son left off
She came at the behest of your husband, of course, and was armed with a detailed set of care instructions
What does your husband think you are? Some sort of one-of-a-kind, priceless artifact that needs special handling? (Actually that's exactly what you are. Price-less… I'll see myself out 🚶🏻♀️)
Ghost
When it comes to having some semblance of independence during your pregnancy, Ghost will give you a bit of a longer leash than Price, but only just so
You’re going for a walk around the neighborhood? Hold on, let him grab his coat to join you. Or you're going into the backyard to tend the garden? He'll pull the weeds while you water the plants
But when it comes to letting you do certain things, there are some hard nos that he will absolutely not budge on
You try to use a stepladder to reach the top of the cupboard? Stop! You'll break your neck! You try to pick up anything heavier than 10 pounds? Stop! Give it here! You try to drive?... Don't even fuckin' think about it, precious.
The farther along your pregnancy progresses, the better he gets at predicting (and intercepting) your next move
You were gonna do laundry today? Well, wouldn't you know, he's already got a load going in the washer. You were about to make dinner? Well shucks, he just ordered takeaway from that Greek place you love
His ability to read your mind is honestly impressive once you get past how damn annoying you find it. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're incapable of fending for yourself, and you're tired of him acting as if otherwise
But really, you can never get mad at anything he does for you. After all, what kind of a husband would he be if he didn't take care of his missus and your little one?
Soap
If you take Ghost’s cautiousness, mix it with Price’s thoroughness, and crank it up to an 11, you get Soap
From the moment he found out you were pregnant, he put your house into full lockdown mode, stopping just short of booby trapping the front door in case you got any funny ideas
You want some fresh air? Just open a window. You want to go for a walk and stretch your legs? Just take a few turns about the living room like you're some Austenian heroine
Don't let him catch you doing any kind of physical labor, because so help him Jesus he will grab a spray bottle and use it like you're a feral alleycat he's trying to house-train (he wouldn't really... but don't test him)
You try to unload the dishwasher? Ehrr! Wrong move. You try to remake the bed? Ehrr! Nice try. You try to mop up your own mess. Ehrr! Enough already. You try to– OCH, WOULD YE BLOODY SIT DOWN, WOMAN?!
For nine long months during his requested leave from work, your husband is attached to you like some kind of loving, smothering barnacle
But doesn't he miss his job, or the lads for that matter? What if the world needs saving? What will they do without him?
Well, (in his exact words) fuck the rest of the world! You're his world, bonnie, and he'll give you everything you could ever wish for and then some
Gaz
By far, you have the most independence with Gaz than you would with any of the other three men… at least, at the beginning of your pregnancy, that is
Once you get to around five or six months he becomes just as helicopter-y as all the others; he's just ever so slightly more bearable, perhaps
There's lots of peeking his head around the corner to check on you throughout the day or appearing seemingly out of thin air whenever you're doing something he'd rather you wouldn't
You've lost count of the number of times you've been in the middle of cooking or hanging up the laundry or whatever and his hand has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gently taking the object from you before directing you to sit and rest
And like, look. He knows you can handle yourself. He knows you could conquer the whole world if you wanted to. That's one of the things he loves about you the most
But seeing you like this – so fragile, so vulnerable, so beautiful and soft and pregnant with his child; his child – it just… It makes him…
He just needs to do these things for you, alright, love? Just let him take care of you, please? Would you let him do that?
You already have so much you have to carry. Let him ease some of the burden off your shoulders. Let him do these small things for you because they don't even compare to all that you're doing for him 🥲
#wiw asks#john price x reader#captain john price x reader#captain price x reader#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost x reader#john mactavish x reader#john soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#kyle garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#gaz x reader#john price#simon riley#john mactavish#kyle garrick#tf 141 x reader#task force 141 x reader#cod x reader#cod mw3#call of duty#modern warfare 3#female reader
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the more i try to force myself to be positive and try and find things i like abt this job the more i miss my old job
#what a cruel twist of fate#idk. i think the thing i hated the most abt my last job was just#ppl look down on u if u do something with cleaning#but even though it got kinda draining towards the end there……i did like cleaning#so i’m like. maybe i should go back ..#who cares what other ppl think i HAVE to start prioritizing my mental well-being#and if i can go back to a job with hours that won’t take a major physical and mental toll on me#with work i don’t actually mind doing and decent pay..why not..#i wanted to try something new but. it’s not going well so far#idk how long i should give it before i make a decision i know it’s only the second day#but good god#how long should i wait idk…i wanna talk to my grandparents#i wanna go home#i’m not as tired today but#i don’t think i’ll ever get used to mornings fully but i think i could get to the point where i can manage#but. this might sound batshit. i don’t want that.#im not a morning person full stop. i’m happier at night and have more energy. i don’t wanna have to adapt i just wanna be able to live….#idk idk idk idk#and it just seems like so much responsibility. now that i’m learning more about the intricacies i’m just intimidated i guess#and if i don’t function well in mornings no matter what…i’m actually not sure if it’d be responsible for me to do this job#like u literally have ppls lives in ur hands. id feel terrible if i messed something up just cause i was sleepy or in major depressive#episode and not thinking straight#and i just need something for a few more months…hopefully up to a year#i still wanna try and keep a goal of moving out next year#after that idk what i’ll do for work but if all goes well i’ll have way more options than i do here#i guess for now i should focus on this job and what i wanna do about it ..#but it’s not looking good#snow.txt
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look. either you agree with me or you don’t - either way it doesn’t matter - but i truly think that at some point - after time, a lot of heavy conversations, some yelling, and crying, and a whole lot of honesty and apologies from her parents - annabeth and her family would work things out and become semi-close. which means eventually percy would be on good terms with them too.
that said, you cannot convince me otherwise that at some point, probably soon after moving to new rome, percy gets into a screaming match with mr. and mrs. chase about how they treated annabeth. and he absolutely blows out the pipes of every house within a mile radius.
not because annabeth needs him to fight her battles. not because percy thinks he has to fight annabeth’s battles. but because he can’t even begin to grasp how someone could treat a child - their own child - like they treated annabeth. the man who was raised by sally jackson cannot even begin to fathom how they blamed their child for the danger that followed her, and then gaslit her when she went to them for help. he can’t even begin to understand how they put her brothers before her, because now that he has his own little sister, his mom has never been more clear about how much she loves him.
he’s gonna lose his shit.
(“what kind of father doesn’t do everything in his power to protect this child?” “it doesn’t matter that you didn’t sign up for it. it’s your fucking job.” “what kind of monster encourages her husband to turn his back on his 5 year old daughter?” “yeah you didn’t choose to have a child, but she didn’t choose to be born!” “what? did you hear that demigods don’t have long lifespans and were just waiting for her funeral so you could get on with your lives?” “what kind of parents make it clear to their daughter that their new babies are the priority? that she’s a danger to them? that they are more important?” “would you fall into hell to save her?… if your immediate answer isn’t yes, then making you a father was the dumbest thing athena ever did.” “she was a scared little kid. you were supposed to protect her.”)
the minute they try to defend themselves, the chases are getting soaked. and part of that is from peeing their pants with fear becasue we all know how terrifying percy is when he’s angry. and nothing makes him angrier than someone who’s hurt the girl, the woman, who is his entire world.
you cannot convince me otherwise. don’t even try.
#percy is gonna lose his shit#someone has to say it#and annabeth won’t#it’s canon to me#i want to sob for annabeth#but i really do think they would all make up eventually and get along well#annabeth chase#percy jackson#heroes of olympus#percabeth#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians
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Request/Idea-
Male Yandere Lawyer x Female Embroider Reader (a lady who works as a tailor is fine too)
Imagine a man falling head over heels for that newly employed lady who hand embroiders beautiful handkerchiefs in a luxury shop he visits to get his custom suits! And he just trying to coax her into dating him, marrying him, and becoming his stay at home wife (and mother of his children eventually) 🥰🤭
Age difference? I need some DILF Daddy energy more in my life (but don’t make him an actual father…yet)
P.S. I adore your OCs and writing. And your artwork is way too fucking good! You’re art is just *chef’s kiss* infuckingcredible
-👘
Ooh, you know what this reminds me of? I have a yaoi volume from Scarlet Beriko, “Queen and the tailor”, about an interior designer that visits a legendary tailor whose suits will supposedly help you achieve success. The tailor turns out to be a scary looking, blunt man but nonetheless extremely talented. I liked the premise a lot, so it’s definitely interesting to try out a different perspective.
In this case I have the image of a patient, soft-spoken reader and a hurried, short tempered lawyer. Comically different but in a way that eventually works out, you know? Also thank you for the kind words!
Yandere!Lawyer x Embroiderer!Reader Headcanons
Featuring a Reader that is blissfully unaware the lawyer she just stared dating has their entire life together already sorted out.
Content: female reader, age gap, older yandere, obsessive behavior
Your eyes begin to hurt mildly, so you look out the window and blink repeatedly, trying to refresh your poor sight. Such detailed works always strain you terribly, but you love seeing the finished result. Others must, too, given your handkerchiefs are often sold out the very same day. Right before your needle pierces the silk canvas anew, the door opens with a burst and you jolt. An older man in a suit, arguing loudly over the phone. He’s drumming his fingers over the counter, eyes darting around in search for an attendant. You know the type quite well, so you hurry over with the hoop still in your hand. “Might I help you with anything?” You mouth discreetly. He turns to you, stares for a couple of seconds, and promptly ends his call.
Out of all the places, he certainly didn’t expect regretting his rusty, unpolished flirting skills in a luxury tailor shop. Yet here he is now, clumsily mumbling something about his new suit he’s come to pick up and wondering how to connect that with your number. The name’s the easy part, as it’s neatly and conveniently printed out on the little badge pinned to your collar. Everything else, not so much. You excuse yourself and return moments later with his order. Shit. You tilt your head, confused by the delayed response, worrying whether you forgot something. Next time. He’ll figure it out for sure next time he comes here.
If there’s one good thing about his career, it’s that his eyes have been trained to spot every detail. For example the embroidery hoop you gently held while speaking to him, so he knows exactly what his next custom order will be. Truth be told, he didn’t anticipate your popularity and long waiting times, but a calculated raised tone with a sprinkle of intimidation has convinced the employee to assign him to you as earliest priority. Whether he can flirt remains to be seen, but arguing with others? Child’s play.
“Thank you for coming again today.” You bow slightly and extend the gift bag. “Although, I must say…I’ve never seen you using these before. What has caused your sudden interest in handkerchiefs?” Rather bold of you to begin such conversations, but your curiosity is too great. No matter how hard you try, you can’t imagine why a blunt, nonchalant man like him would abruptly become passionate about embroidery. A lover? You smile faintly at the idea. Whoever it is, they’ve taken quite the challenge upon themselves. The lawyer frowns at the inquiry. It seems you’re just as observant as him. Maybe this shall be the pretext he can finally cling onto. So he presents it in the factual truth you’d hear in a courthouse: it’s his excuse to see you. You raise your eyebrows in surprise. Well now, isn’t it just silly? He could’ve simply asked. Buying countless expensive handmade items instead of plainly confessing his intentions…He stumbles, flustered. The same man whose ruthless reputation has even reached your humble ears is anxiously awaiting your response with a deep blush on his face.
The childlike innocence doesn’t last long. You’ve agreed to date him and that’s great, but he’s a man with little time that has known exactly what he wants for many years. When he laid his eyes on you he didn’t imagine cheesy coffee dates as you discuss your favorite color and cautiously breach the topic of intimacy. What’s the point? He’s already certain he’ll spend the rest of his life with you. Skip the unnecessary steps. On the other hand, you’re not as cooperative as he’d wish. Truly, the tangible proof that opposites attract. You’re always calm and take your time with everything. It’s almost frustrating how easygoing you are. When asked when you’re moving in with him, you just smiled and wondered out loud what could be wrong with your small studio above the shop. Marriage? Good question, you never thought about it.
Oh, the irony. Last time a client was being particularly difficult, your lawyer boyfriend pulled him out by the collar under the mortified stares of the other attendants and shoppers. The exact attitude he himself would’ve shown before, yet this time it’s different. Of course it is, it involves you. His thin patience runs out if it’s you. That’s all there is to it. Can you blame a man for following his heart? They say you should always chase your dreams; he prefers hunting them down efficiently, and the shotgun is pointed in your direction. His sweet, exquisite prey he can never get enough of.
Finally you agree to move in with him. Your hesitation was maddening and he’d started coming up with downright psychotic alternatives to convince you, such as your studio burning down after a vicious attack of some unknown hooligans. So it was rather wise of you not to push someone that knows the law like the back of his hand, even if you aren’t aware of it yet. He enthusiastically guides you around your new forever home, omitting unimportant details. The spare office he emptied for a future nursery? You’ll get to that later.
He can’t wait to spoil you. See, that’s the advantage of dating an older man. He’s gotten his life sorted out a long time ago. All that was left was finding you. You just need to be a darling and behave. He knows you will. After all, you’re his talented little embroideress that won’t have to worry about anything else ever again.
#female reader#yandere#yandere x you#yandere x reader#yandere x darling#male yandere x reader#yandere imagine#yandere imagines#yandere scenarios#yandere headcanons#yandere fic#yandere lawyer#tw yandere#yandere oc#yandere original character#original work
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