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xythlia · 4 months

Text

› he's obsessed w you (and your pussy)

mdni. f!reader. pussy worshipping satoru. fingering. clit play. edging. multiple orgasms. biting mention. squirting.

satoru who loves playing with your pussy, getting you situated between his legs and creeping his hands up your thighs. especially if you wore those cute sleep shorts to bed last night, the ones that bunch up around your ass when you wake up and sleepily pad into the kitchen looking for coffee.

you don't have to worry, he's got something that can wake you up much better than a cup of steaming hot caffeine ever could. he's practically addicted to the way you moan, quiet and breathy, as his fingers stroke you through your shorts at first. squirming in his hold as you feel his erection press against your lower back but he's not concerned about himself just yet.

placing wet, sloppy kisses against the side of your neck, trailing his tongue against your warm skin makes his head spin and he's gotta use his other hand to hold your hip firmly in place. no wiggling away from him, not when the thought of you has been tempting him since last night. when you whine out his name and paw as his forearms it just urges him on, pulling the fabric to the side to swipe his fingers against you and feel just how wet you are.

"woke up like this, huh? you know I can help," he purrs against the back of your neck as your head rolls back to rest against his chest. Your lips are parted and little puffs of air are coming harshly from between them as his index delicately circles your clit. He doesn't apply much pressure, it's almost like the ghost of a touch against you but it's enough to already have you whining and begging for him to touch you more, stop being so mean 'toru.

but you don't know he's not being mean, quite the opposite it's just that the slick feeling of your pussy drives him insane and feeling the sticky warmth inside you as he slides two fingers against your fluttering walls makes curses drop from his mouth instantly. The way you massage his fingers in a pulsing rhythm is beyond sinful, your body begging him to indulge more, more, more.

and who is he to deny you?

"shit," he grips a handful of your inner thigh as his fingers keep working you open at a lazy pace. there's no rush, not this morning when the sun's barely up and the sounds of the world waking have yet to reach through the exterior of your home. he can feel the way your muscles tense, flexing and holding taut every time he scissors his long fingers against your silky walls.

the squelching sound that fills the apartment makes him salivate, if it was possible he'd have hearts in his eyes from that alone. you're absolutely soaked now, arousal coating his fingers and seeping into the palm of his hand as your hips buck and jerk in a sporadic rhythm shamelessly desperate to chase your release.

but he doesn't want this to be over too soon, not when he's only just started. so he switches, fingers pulling out of you and moving back up to rub your adorably puffy clit. it makes your voice crack and he knows without even looking that there's tears in your eyes now, and you're beyond the point of being able to speak now it's just hiccuped moans and broken cries of his name joining the squishy sound of him toying with you.

it may as well be his own personal platinum record, he could have this cacophony on repeat for a week and die a happy man. his other hand drifts up to grope and massage your breasts intermittently through your t-shirt, one stolen from his wardrobe that you look so jaw dropping in. he groans feeling your nails bite into his forearm, his teeth returning the favor against the side of your neck while you sob and your body goes rigid in his lap.

he knows this is it, feels the stray tears splash against his hand as they drop from your face while your gasps turn silent, mouth hung open and body rigid while his fingers never stop playing with your clit as you ride out the orgasm and he feels, somehow, even more of your slick mixed with cum dripping out of you and making even more of a mess between your legs.

but even after you start coming down satoru doesn't stop. rolling your cute little clit between his fingers and making you nearly jump out of your skin from the unrelenting pleasure, squeezing his arm and begging for a break.

"don't wanna leave my favorite girl just yet," and you just know he's talking about both you and your pussy. it makes you groan and grind your hips again as his fingers dip back inside you, languidly exploring every inch of you while your body can't help but spam intermittently, aftershocks of your previous orgasm hitting against the new waves of pleasure building towards a second.

"toru please," you cry out, the sounds getting mangled by the way your breathing gets so harsh. you're practically crying now, and it's not just your thighs shaking by your whole body because he's taking advantage of the fact that your first orgasm left you so raw.

he shushes you, coos at you so sweetly while his thumb presses against your clit again and you sob, clawing at his skin as he settles on a more rapid pace this time, just to see you come fully undone in his lap. it doesn't take long at all, and he can feel the way liquid spurts against his hand. a lovesick grin works it's way across his face at that and he pulls his hand away fully, situating your shorts back in place over his favorite little treat as he places a sweet kiss to your temple.

satoru knows you're basically made of jello now, answering him in little grunts when he asks if you'd like to sit with him in the bath for a bit, let him hold you and work your body and mind back to full consciousness. carefully he gathers you in his arms, peppering more kisses across your face in silent thanks for always being so good to him, good for him.

#he'd basically have a telepathic connection to it in ur relationship lmao #would spend every night going to town on you if you let him #jjk smut #jjk x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo x reader #jjk drabble #gojo thirst

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bunny-yan · 11 months

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Masterlist

Total written works: 60 not sure if i'm going to add the imagines or leave them as little treats for those who find themselves bored and decide to scroll through ;) Bully Friends Cyborg Warmth

Delinquent ~ Sax Savior Chase Headshot Fight Duke Different Second Son Theodore Fae ~ Aereon Runaway Headshot Names Gently

Fan ~ Harper Number One Secret Bedroom

Giant Heart Privacy Needs Storytime

Hacker & AI ~ ? & Eve Blocked Greetings First Meeting(?)

Hero ~ Tasman Selfish Dreams Fears Silent Treatment Fool Propose Desert Fix You Cicada

Incubus ~ Ambrose Sleep Stamina Wet Fever

King ~ Idris His Possession Fears Sane Sorry Your Highness Stockholm Positive Fiancéed

Priest Faith Picnic Prayer

Serial Killer ~ Ellis Saw Hugs Monster

Soldier ~ Winter Kidnapped Captive Headshot Notice

Stalker ~ Valentino Valentine's Day Headshot Careless Popular Greetings Mask

Telepath Ex

Sharing is Caring ~ Series Fears (Hero & King) Greetings (Hacker, AI & Stalker)

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allur1ngs · 5 months

Note

BEBE being shocked at y/n’s ability to get Bada to dress up for Xmas so easily when previously it took years for tatter to get her to wear a Christmas themed tie or pair of socks 🤧🤧 them asking her how she does it and y/n shrugging like “idk :3” — @aericrys

AERI I SWEAR TO GOD WE ARE ON THE SAME WAVELENGTH RN CAUSE I WAS LITERALLY JUST THINKING ABT THIS.

"so what's your secret, unnie?" tatter whines, tugging at your arm. "the most i could make bada do was wear socks with little santa hats on them."

bada lee, the most influential and powerful mafia boss stands before both you and tatter, dressed in a full santa outfit, (looking rather regretful, if you're being honest) but still so jolly.

"i don't know." you smile carefreely and shrug, feeling bada wrapping her arms around you from behind. "i just asked."

"it's called 'wife privileges'." bada mumbles into the crook of your neck. "and pretty privilege, tatter. only she could ever convince me to wear something like this."

you nod while smiling, "i guess that's the secret, then."

"unnie holds more power than any of us in this house!" lusher screams from across the hallway, munching on a christmas cookie.

#౨ৎ melody's newsletter #౨ৎ cutie aeri #bada lee x reader #seriously aeri we are telepathic at this point

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musings-of-miss-j · 1 month

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no rest for the wicked (nor the foolish)

part seven: in which the obscenely wealthy resident makes himself a permanent fixture to your list of problems, even after you find comfort in the normality of Snezhnaya's city (and its firewater)

a harbingers x gn reader series!! (includes dottore, childe, arlecchino and pantalone x reader. the rest of the harbingers will most likely not be romantic interests)

notes: cuz i set fire to the rain but rain won't fucking catch fire fuck's sake (slowburn), gn neutral sarcastic legend sick of ppl's bs reader, slightly suggestive

series masterlist

author's notes: *throws this chapter at u like its crumbs and ur pigeons on the pavement*

reblog the crumbs my pigeons <3

word count: 5134 words

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚*

Snezhnaya was so cold. Bitingly, piercingly, mercilessly cold. But the city was warmer, more welcoming. Despite the icy wasteland surrounding it, the rows of shops and frosted-over streetlights boasted an almost friendly atmosphere, tinny music trickling through the cracks of some of the doors and stalls advertising ‘the greatest hot chocolate ever sold!’. Childe took hold of your hand under the guise of not wanting to lose you when you passed through a particularly busy street, but neglected to let go even after the crowd dispersed. You let him, and dragged him into a cosy bookstore piled high with well-loved stories. He insisted on carrying every book you chose while you browsed, following you through the shelves with hardcovers piled high in his arms, leading the owner of the shop to shoot the two of you a knowing glance you didn’t particularly like. A clothes shop nestled into a corner also caught your eye, and after a pleasant half hour of perusing the finest selection of furs and suits and dresses you’d ever seen you left with a brand new cloak to replace your lost one, black with silver clasps and a fur trim that would have been expensive enough to haunt you for a week or so, if Childe hadn’t sneakily paid for it the moment you picked it up. He led you to the city’s landmarks; the frozen fountains and an ice rink you refused to step onto, and you even let him drag you into a tavern.

“Eleven, please. I’m far from a good drinking partner.” Your protest sounded weak even to your own ears; you were quite curious to try the infamous Snezhnayan firewater, and the tavern was wonderfully warm.

“Don’t shoot it ‘til you’ve tried it,” he cheerfully replied, pulling you through the door by your joined hands and steering you towards a table near the window. The place was rowdier than you’d expected; a bard sang and danced on a tabletop, strumming a ukulele while the clattering of coins hitting the surface melded with the people’s laughter and clapping hands. You were reminded of the irresponsible, green-clad bard from Mondstadt who’d avoided you at every turn yet shone onstage. Before you knew it, you were laughing and knocking back a drink yourself, leaning back in your seat and letting your voice join the cheers and chatter. Childe marvelled at how much more relaxed you were outside of the palace, the tenseness in your shoulders gone and the sceptical furrow between your brows softened, one arm hooked around the back of your chair while you swirled your drink with the other hand.

“Say, Eleven,” you half-yelled to be heard over the ruckus. “What possessed you to join this Archons-forsaken association?”

“Quickest way to become a better fighter.”

You laughed under your breath, downing the rest of your drink. No more for you tonight, that was certain; pleasantly tipsy was one thing but you were far from keen on being flat-out drunk.

“Is that so?” You quipped back, appraising him thoughtfully. “You know, Eleven, I’ve heard some gut-churning things about you,” you mused, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the table. “That you’re a bloodthirsty maniac. A murderous villain. That your only home is the battlefield.”

His breath caught in his throat. Here you were, tearing out any last semblances of goodness he still thought he had and laying them before him, tattered and bleeding. And you did it all with that small, thoughtful smile. The ambience of the tavern flickered like a faulty speaker, his ears filling with anxious static.

“I think you’re more than half-decent, though.” Alcohol certainly loosened tongues. The cacophony of the bar came rushing back.

You stacked a few coins on the table to pay for your drink, heedless of the relief coursing through his veins like the most potent drug. You knew. He didn’t know how, but you knew about the savagery lurking so near to the surface of the charm that had once come so naturally to him but now took an effort to maintain, and you didn’t hate him for it. More than half-decent. You might as well have called him a prince. He felt giddy, drunk on your praise.

Breaking out of his trance, he firmly pushed your mora back in your direction and paid for the drinks himself despite your objections. You bickered over the matter the entire trek back to the palace, settling into the easy familiarity of squabbling back and forth with him. He accompanied you to the dining hall, too, claiming he had nothing to do at all even though Pierro was getting impatient at the lack of progress he’d made on tracking the Geo Gnosis; after all, what significance did godhood hold compared to you and the divine splendour of your laughter?

You found Arlie idling just outside. Preposterous, that she’d be reduced to dawdling around in hopes to see you, but there she was nonetheless, with the last plate of your favourite dessert that she’d snagged before a poor recruit could get his hands on it to boot. All damning evidence of her budding affection. Pleasantly surprised to see her, you made to introduce her to Childe.

“Oh, Arlie! I didn’t expect to see you today.”

She and Childe’s gazes met over the top of your head, the latter stupefied at seeing one of the most high-ranking Harbingers being referred to so casually, and by you, upholder of titles, no less, while the former shot him a formidable glare that warned him to hold his tongue lest she rip it out for him. She nodded shortly at your introduction.

“Childe and I are familiar.”

You hummed and pursed your lips. Surely this was ample confirmation that she was a Harbinger.

“Lovely, we’re all friends here then,” you said with just a touch of sardonic humour. “Why don’t we take lunch together?” You suggested, mostly as a way to further observe their dynamic and gather more evidence to support your theory. Arlie handed you the plate without ceremony.

“I’ve already had lunch, but I’d be happy to accompany you.” Even if she found Childe exuberantly foolish.

“I could eat,” Childe seconded, slinging an arm around your shoulders, not missing the way you beamed at her little gift.

Thus you found yourself seated under a gazebo in the palace gardens, pointedly ignoring the strained tension between your two companions while you admired the snow you’d once lamented and contentedly ate the berries from your pavlova. What a funny situation. You weren’t quite sure how you’d ended up befriending two higher-ups from a supposedly dangerous organisation and willingly spending time in their company over a plate of such exquisite dessert, but you supposed life had a way of being funny like that.

“Do enlighten me as to how the two of you know each other,” you said, waving your spoon vaguely. They let an ear-splitting silence fall, tense and rigid. You pointedly ignored the on-edge atmosphere, taking another bite of your pavlova.

“Well?” You prompted.

Childe clenched his teeth momentarily. “We were assigned on the same mission this reconnaissance cycle.” Arlie offered a non-committal hum of agreement.

“Interesting. And why is it that you seem on the verge of lunging at each other with the intent of causing as much bodily harm as possible?” You asked in a deceptively innocent tone. Childe wished you weren’t so clever sometimes, while Arlie turned her head away to hide her smile.

“Enough about us,” she interjected, leaning forward slightly to adjust the insignia you had pinned to the shoulder of your new cloak. “Tell me how you liked the city.”

“Snezhnayan firewater certainly lives up to its reputation for being extremely potent,” you replied with a shrug, setting aside your empty plate. “And Lord Eleven has similarly scandalous reputation outside the palace,” you added slyly, just to push his buttons. A bit of payback for not telling the truth about how he knew Arlie.

He choked on air. “What?”

Arlie raised an eyebrow. “What, indeed. Care to explain, Childe?”

“Not really,” he responded airily, tugging at his collar and clearing his throat. One advantage of Arlecchino being disguised like this was that he could somewhat safely dodge her authority under the guise of protecting her alibi.

Childe was saved from describing the reason for his less-than-ideal reputation when a young recruit, barely eighteen from the looks of it, came marching hurriedly towards you. Apparently the Director of the Harbingers himself was requesting Childe’s presence, and he left with more than a little reluctance and a wave goodbye. Arlie watched him rush off and allowed herself a moment’s satisfaction at the timely intervention. You touched her shoulder to catch her attention again, a small leather box in hand.

“I bought you something from the city,” you said, offering it to her. She stared at it in silence for so long you feared you might have offended her, when really her mind was spinning with the implications of you buying her a gift.

You swallowed nervously. She still hadn’t accepted the gift from your outstretched hand, staring blankly at the little box.

“Do you not want it?”

“I do,” she all but snapped, finally taking it. “I was… surprised, is all.”

A four-leafed brooch lay inside, gleaming black metal inlaid with red gemstones that glittered as they caught the light.

Her silence left you a little nervous, and you found yourself rambling uncharacteristically to fill it. “The merchant was adamant that it’s crafted entirely from the finest silver, but I didn’t test it in the lab yet. But I can confirm that the jewels have a purity of at least seventy five percent, and it’ll fetch a handsome bit of mora if you choose to sell it”-

“Thank you. It’s…” Stunning? Lovely? Beautiful? Arlecchino was truly at a loss for words, and fought not to stare at you. What a warming thought, that you’d spotted a little trinket and your mind had conjured her as a recipient for a gift. How lovely, to think that she occupied your thoughts enough to become a regular visitor. “It’s exceptionally well-made.”

You beamed. “I’m glad to hear that. You seem to prefer black and white clothing, I think the red will serve as a striking contrast.”

“Indeed,” she agreed mechanically, offering you the barest hint of a smile. You could tell her the sun rose in the west and paper was inflammable and she’d probably agree at that moment. A part of her despised how much power that gave you. You took out your pocket watch.

“Ah, perhaps we should go back inside,” you suggested, rising from the bench and brushing away the layer of snow on your shoulders. “According to my observations, the temperature drops quite rapidly at around this time, and I have a few letters to write.”

Arlie quickly excused herself once inside the palace (to ruminate alone over her gift), leaving you to take a pile of your best parchment and a pot of your smoothest, most pigmented ink to the Regrator’s library. It took a moment of fumbling with your stationery to kneel and get the door open, but the sight within was as rewarding as it had been the last time you stumbled upon the place; bathed in the late afternoon’s pale golden light, the fire crackling merrily and glinting off the silver etched into the bookshelves, chairs comfortable and inviting. You gladly dropped into one of them, sighing contentedly as the plush leather enveloped you, and began penning addresses onto envelopes with magnificent blue and purple quill you’d received from your friends as a graduation gift. You still didn’t know where such a large, vibrantly coloured feather could have come from.

Sumeru – Sumeru City – The Akademiya – Scribe Alhaitham

Mondstadt – Mondstadt City – Mona Megistus

Inazuma – Watatsumi Island – Sangonomiya Kokomi

Liyue – Wangsheng Funeral Parlour – Director Hu Tao

Fontaine – Opera Epiclese – Duellist Clorinde

With some reluctance, you also marked an envelope Inazuma, Narukami Shrine for Yae Miko. The contract you’d signed all those years ago to provide her publishing house with what she called ‘light novels’ would never end.

How far-flung your friends seemed, scattered throughout Teyvat with seemingly no rhyme or reason. Maybe you’d take to travelling again once your diploma was finished, a vacation of sorts to see everyone … You filed that thought away for later contemplation.

For a while, the only sounds in the library were the scratching of your quill on parchment, the slight rattling of the stained glass windows as the late afternoon breeze whooshed by and… faint talking? You frowned slightly, glancing up from your writing. Two voices, vaguely familiar and gradually rising in volume; an argument, then. How irritating. You ignored it for as long as you could, until the shouting was clearly decipherable and loud enough to make your quill pause every few sentences to rearrange your thoughts (you and Lisa’s correspondence was mainly in the form of original poetry, and the distraction was making it even more difficult to find a rhyme for ‘Harbinger’.) The noise grew unbearable, and with an aggravated huff you left your things laying on the armchair to ascertain the source and perhaps ask them to quiet down.

Honestly. People’s utter disregard for a library’s rules is intolerable.

After spending some time weaving through the towering bookshelves and past iced-over windows, angry voices growing louder and louder, you finally located the culprits.

It seemed you wouldn’t be asking anyone to quiet down, considering the argument was between Signora and the Regrator. Just your luck, really. Resigned to sealing the envelopes and finalising the calculations of your lab report back at the dorm, you turned to leave only for them to fall silent.

“(Name?)”

You cursed under your breath and pivoted on your heel to face the mortifying situation you’d found yourself in.

“My lord, my lady,” you managed after a strained moment of trying to collect yourself. “I heard shouting”- Signora and the Regrator shot each other a heated glare- “and thought it might be wise to investigate.” You conveniently left out the part where you’d gotten so riled up that you were quite prepared to admonish whoever it was. They didn’t need to know that.

“Nothing to worry about,” the Regrator assured smoothly, brushing invisible dust off his shoulders. He wore velvet today, supple and sophisticated, while Signora sported a lavish fur collar that she angrily swept back around her neck. You had to admit her elegance indisputably came naturally to her; even with her face twisted into a frown and no one to impress, she still radiated an effortless air of refinement and superiority.

The Regrator was different. Those endless eyes, that deliberate half-smile, his tasteful-bordering on-excessive attire, the guarded disposition… all of it hinted at a man who’d started low and clawed his way to the top. You were willing to bet he still had the blood under his fingernails to prove it, and wondered if it haunted him at all. There wasn’t any hint of remorse in his polished smile or fathomless eyes. An apprehensive shiver ran up your spine, and you averted your gaze.

“If you’ll excuse me”-

“No, no. Sit down, little one, we could use a mediator,” Signora cut in, gesturing towards an empty chair with a tilt of her head, never once breaking the intense glare she pointed at the Regrator. You sighed, thinking of your yet-to-be-delivered letters and the lab report that still needed writing.

“As much as I’d love to act as the referee for your dispute”- the Regrator had to suppress a genuine laugh at your carefully derisive wording, while Signora let an imperceptible, fond smile take over her face- “I’m afraid I have some rather urgent matters to attend to.”

“Surely not so urgent that you’d risk upsetting us?”

How he managed to sound so innocent yet sly was beyond you. The mischievous slant of his lips betrayed the true intention behind his deceptively benign tone; to embarrass its recipient for his own entertainment. Not to mention how breaching etiquette felt akin to throwing yourself to the sharks when it came to him. Something about the Regrator exuded propriety and demanded a similar demeanour to be maintained, unlike the rest of the Harbingers around whom a certain degree of sarcasm could safely be upheld; Childe could even be described as friendly, and despite the Doctor’s terrible reputation and a justifiable ego thanks to his unparalleled intellect your mutual inclination towards scientific progress made him more approachable, while Signora had yet to berate you for any lapse in politeness, instead regarding you with a sharp smile and an air of superiority that made it quite clear to you that she found you funny. Demeaning, really.

Still, your current problem was how to escape the cage of social obligation Regrator had managed to weave.

“I’m afraid so, Lord Regrator,” you confirmed drily, offering him and Signora a shallow bow. “Here’s to hoping your dispute comes to a swift and satisfying end.”

You moved to leave, gladdened by your evidently inoffensive departure. He couldn’t have that, of course; you’d caught his interest and he’d decided to indulge in his curiosity.

“Allow me to join you,” he proposed, falling into step next to you. Signora let out a very audible tsk. You couldn’t help but agree with her.

“I really don’t think that’ll be necessary”-

“Many of the best things in life aren’t,” he responded, guiding you towards the door with a hand on your back. Annoyed by him trying to steer you, you sped up and went to collect the letters; the Regrator, undeterred by how you’d shrugged away his touch, took the stack of envelopes from you. Wary of accepting any help from a Harbinger, you attempted to retrieve them with an array of pleasantries such as ‘there’s really no need, I can carry them myself’ and ‘you’re really too kind’.

To no avail; in the end, he even managed to nick your satchel right off your shoulder and carry it the entire way back to your dorm, much to your embarrassment. You supposed it was only polite to invite him inside, not that you’d expected him to graciously accept your invitation and make himself comfortable in the armchair across the fireplace. You didn’t miss the way his fingers traced the patches of embroidery you’d painstakingly made along the seams, rows of tiny colourful flowers stitched for the purpose of improving your dexterity before a particularly finicky experiment and maybe even to leave a mark of your stay here; the fact he’d noticed them at all indicated an impressive attention to detail that made you wonder what else might stand out to him about your living space. Perhaps he found your accommodations excessively modest. The thought amused you no end; a rich boy out of his depth would never not be funny, after all. He seemed utterly at ease, though, content to watch you shed your new cloak and pick out leaves and cups for tea without any conversation, those dark eyes following your every move.

“You’re staring quite intently, my lord,” you remarked, handing him a cup of tea and wrapping your gloved fingers around your own.

“Beauty should be appreciated, no?”

You laughed under your breath, hoping you weren’t blushing at such a clichéd line. “I suppose I walked into that one,” you conceded, resting your weight against the edge of your desk and wondering how best to broach the topic of why he accepted your invitation to come inside. He smiled and lifted the teacup to his lips, as if aware of your internal dilemma. You cursed every aspect of his polished personality for making you feel like you had to be especially polite.

“Is the tea to your liking?”

“Delectable,” he assured. That vexing half-smile on his face was starting to get on your nerves; it was as though he was contemplating something awfully hilarious about your countenance that you weren’t aware of.

You offered him a nod of acknowledgement, turning to sort through the pages upon pages of calculations you’d made for your next experiment. It pertained to the various elemental crystals that apparently gave Vision holders extra power; a relatively recent discovery you’d made in your last year at the Akademiya and one you were quite proud of. It still needed further testing before you could guarantee the benefits of using them and how to do so, but the theoretical efficiency you’d calculated was very high at a whopping ninety-four point seven per cent. You really were quite proud of this potential breakthrough, and were excited to share it with the Doctor, someone who’d appreciate the complexities of an experiment even before it came to fruition. Maybe you’d gift Childe a gemstone of the Varunada Lazurite variety after the testing stage was concluded, since he was so incessantly obsessed with improving his combat prowess. You doubted Arlie’s illusionary magic would benefit from such a crystal, though. It didn’t quite shock you as much as it should’ve that you were so casually thinking of gifting a Harbinger something, as though you were friends. Perhaps you did consider them friends. Your brows furrowed infinitesimally. How bizarre.

The Regrator interrupted your musings with a slight laugh.

“I must know what’s on your mind to have such a puzzled expression cross your face.”

Embarrassed by his scrutiny, you cleared your throat and neatly stacked your paperwork into the wooden case to avoid looking at those eyes.

“Nothing at all,” you insisted. “Just my research.”

It was becoming a familiar lie.

“Well then, do enlighten me,” he said, peering up at you over his glasses. You paused in the act of rewriting a horribly complex chemical equation with the correct stoichiometric ratios. You couldn’t believeyou’d made such a foolish mistake, and you grimaced at the thought of the ridicule you would’ve no doubt received from the Doctor if you ended up submitting it.

“I doubt it’ll be of much interest to you, my lord.”

“I suspect I may surprise you yet,” he replied, gazing up at you expectantly.

You drummed your fingers against the wooden surface of your desk, deep in thought. From your perspective, common sense dictated that you should not under any circumstances share the details of your research lest someone apply for a patent of the invention before you, and thus take all the credit for the discovery. You suppressed a shudder of revulsion at the thought. No, the Regrator was not to be trusted with the minutiae of your research.

Celestia’s sake, he’s a banker. He’s not to be trusted, period!

You turned to face him, the beginnings of an idea just barely discernible in the quirk of your brows, the smile on your lips that was a little too devious to be written off as merely polite.

“Why not enlighten me with details about your work instead?”

You sly little trickster.

He surveyed you with a half-smile not unlike the one on your own face, impressed by your deflection.

“Hm. Seems we’ve hit an impasse,” he remarked, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back in the armchair, the picture of immovable and infuriatingly self-assured calm. A side effect of being rich, you supposed, watching him get comfortable with mental sigh. You’d hoped he’d be on his way soon; evidently that would not be the case. “We’re both unwilling to part with the secrets of our trade.”

“Yes, quite,” you agreed with a laugh you couldn’t suppress. It was amusing to think that the Regrator, a man who obviously dealt in meticulously worded phrases with a penchant for hiding his true intentions behind walls of elegance, was being forced to get straight to the point with no purposeful stalling whatsoever. Because of you, no less. Oddly enough, he found himself not quite as incensed as he would’ve expected at being the subject of your hilarity. Perhaps that had something to do with how agreeable mirth looked on you, softening the ever-present suspicion even if only for a moment.

What an interesting little thing you were turning out to be.

He watched as your eyes began to wander in the silence that followed, first to your window and the glowing flowers sprouting from the cracks around it, then to the fire in the hearth where it lingered for a little longer, along the walls, tracing the silver lines engraved on them, before finally resting on his hand. He wondered which of his many rings you were so fixated on.

“Perhaps we should both retire for the night, my lord,” you suggested, tearing your gaze away from the diamond ring you were still quite interested in testing. He raised his eyebrows, his smile turning devious.

“What, together? I didn’t think you were so forward, (Name.)”

You almost wished his insinuation was lost on you. It wasn’t, tragically, and you had to contend with the mortifying ordeal of flushing crimson and briefly debating on whether to say the first thing that came to mind, if nothing else to rile him up as much as he did you (‘Well, I wouldn’t oppose to the idea unless you did.’)

Damned banker and his damned dirty mind…

His fingers were still running over your little garden of embroidered flowers, eyes crinkling ever so slightly at the corners from the wideness of his smile. Abandoning any semblance of courtesy, you opened the door and gestured pointedly at him to leave. Your fear of the Harbingers seemed inconsequential compared to the sheer magnitude of the frustration they caused you. You could only maintain a façade of perfect grace for so long, after all.

“With all due respect, my lord”- (how wonderful you sounded without anything to filter your opinion of him in that moment. Even if said opinion was decidedly negative) – “I’d like you to leave. You’re disturbing me. And there’s a cursed redox apparatus I need to wake up at an ungodly hour to check on.” You muttered the last part testily under your breath, dragging a hand down your face and lamenting the fact you hadn’t waited until later to set it up.

“Come, now. Surely you won’t just kick me out like this?” Regrator implored, sounding more relaxed than upset. “The night is young. Let us at least have a proper conversation.”

How you longed to understand why he insisted on pestering you. Surely he had better things to do. Although, you mused to yourself as you openly sized him up, maybe he’ll leave if I talk to him. Just for a while.

“What would you have us speak of?” You asked wryly, folding your legs to perch cross-legged on your desk chair. “It doesn’t seem likely that we’ll find a shared topic of interest.”

“Why ever not?” He returned, raising his eyebrows. “Do you have such a negative impression of me that you think I can’t keep up with you in conversation?”

“Of course not. I never implied that, my lord.”

He laughed at your swift denial. Clearly you were still apprehensive of his status as a Harbinger, not that he blamed you.

“I hear you’ve received an invitation to the annual gala.”

Your face contorted at the reminder, brows drawing inwards and a frown tugging your lips further away from a smile as your jaw tensed.

“Ah, yes. I’d almost forgotten about that. Lady Eight was so kind as to invite me.” Your real meaning was clear despite the unwavering civility of your words: Lady Eight could very well eat her left shoe. Beautiful women can really get away with anything, you mused to yourself.

“Yet you seem less than overjoyed by the situation,” he remarked, sliding one of his rings up and down his finger as he watched you.

With a sigh, you rested your elbows on your knees and your chin in your hands, proper posture be damned to the lowest ring of hell. “It’s just not my scene, I suppose.”

“Uncomfortable with large crowds of people?”

You scowled at the floor in response to his mocking tone. “Displeased by the public’s general idiocy, more like,” you muttered under your breath, hating the Regrator just a little more for coaxing you into revealing your weakness then taunting you for it.

The Regrator was beginning to think that he enjoyed your scorn even more than your artificial flattery. He’d be hard-pressed to think of a more artful way ridicule his opponent in a verbal altercation without being too direct and ruining the element of subtlety he so valued.

“But you’ll still be attending, no?”

“Unless divine intervention occurs for the first time in this century, yes, I will.”

“Good, good,” he all but purred, relaxing even further back in the armchair. You glowered at the floor. Your armchair. That he was sitting in. He effectively snapped you out of your trance of gradually building wrath with his next question.

“Would you do me the honour of a dance, when the gala does roll around?”

It took a moment of unconvinced staring for you to realise that he was, in fact, being serious.

“If you insist, my lord.” You were confident in your ability to sneak off and prevent such a thing from ever happening, in the unlikely scenario that he even remembered. He smiled entirely too cunningly for your liking, as though he knew exactly what you were planning. You shook off the feeling, rising to your feet when he did the same and throwing a mental celebration when he made his way to the door.

“Let’s not make this our last conversation,” were his parting words before he left. You consoled yourself with the fact that speaking to the Regrator was intellectually stimulating if nothing else, what with having to constantly dodge his questions and avoid offending him too much while making sure your own pride didn’t end up bruised. A raven warbled outside your window, and you cracked the window open despite the sigh of frigid air that sneaked its way into the room to feed it.

“Hello there, pretty,” you murmured, scattering an array of seeds and nuts across the windowsill and watching as the raven, one of the flock you’d so tenuously befriended, hopped across the stone and pecked at your offerings. You hadn’t expected them to be so open to human interaction, but the ravens were quite comfortable with waking you at dawn with their incessant squawking and arriving at your window in a flurry of black feathers to demand more food. You liked them, with all their melancholy glory and sharp little eyes and the symbolism of death they were so often associated with. There were worse visitors clad in ebony to have, you decided, an image of the Regrator appearing in your mind’s eye.

* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚* ੈ✩‧₊˚** ੈ✩‧₊˚*

cult members taglist peeps: @viridian-coffer, @vvzhyxx, @darifes, @whore-of-many-hot-men, @aenishas, @love13tter, @crownohomo, @redcherrypineapple

if you want to be added or removed then please reply to this post or the series masterlist post !!

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miguelobsession · 11 months

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Miguel O'Hara accidentally telepathy linking with your spidersona and hearing all of your love thoughts about him and him being embarrassed to say anything because he doesn't want you to think he invaded your privacy on purpose but also he can't handle you thinking everytime you meet about how much you want to kiss him

#just a friendly reminder that miguel hes telepathic powers #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #astv #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x reader

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luimagines · 1 month

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Weird request but what if reader was able to read minds but didn't tell anyone, and one day they got curious and decided to read links mind? And found out either the intrusive thoughts or find out how much link likes them

Oh!! There was actually a whole other era we had on the blog with a concept similar to this.

The tag is telepath! reader if you want to check out all the posts that have to do with this type of reader. :)

I think throughout the whole idea the Reader got paired more with Warrior because he would be the one who would have the most interesting dynamic with someone who can read minds. Since he would already have a problem with being under surveillance all the time. His thought would have been his safe space, and to have someone who can pop in without him know?!?

Not to mention to easily be used as a mole to dig out secrets and confidential information and sell them all out to the enemy.

It was fun. :D

#pinky replies #telepath! reader #pinky answers

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mypimpademia · 7 months

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Only ever writing certain characters w black readers and black readers only bc some of them just belong w a black partner

#pimptalks #i don’t make the rules #and if black reader isn’t explicitly stated trust and believe they were heavily kept in mind #sending telepathic messages to all the brothas and sista

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miguelswifey04 · 10 months

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telekinetic!spidey!fem! reader

note: my spidersona + my own headcanons of her <3

first of she’s from earth 1213 where superhero’s and supervillans don’t exist & if they somehow ‘miraculously’ do exist they are shunned by the world—that’s why there isn’t superheroes anywhere to be seen because they are most likely hiding their true selves.

she had already had telekinetic powers every since she was very young!! she was raised and born to a mexican mother and an african american father!! her first language was spanish then later on as she gotten older she’d learned english

currently a college student in her 20s!! the timeline takes present day 2023–she studies computer science at a prestigious university & works as a barista at her university’s coffee shop <3

she was bitten by a radioactive spider when she got out the shower 😭 & she didn’t know she was bitten after she saw a red lump on her knee but she brushed it off until her spider abilities on top of telekinetic ones manifested

her hero name is starlight spider & her suit consists of golden outlines and pink stars ✨ that glitter her suit—she got it tailored and had her artist friend design it for her (they’re the only ones who know her true identity)

her parents are long gone so she only has herself and she’s trying her best to juggle her college and hero life—it’s hard at times but with the help of her roommate she’s able to persevere 😣

now her telepathic abilities are a strong one—she’s able to levitate (float but can’t fly for long distances) short distance teleportation, can manipulate and control objects with just her mind, very good with creating strong energy fields & a telepathic <3 but for her spider abilities she uses webshooters, has increased speed and agility, increased strength, spider senses (don’t rly need em when you’re a telekinetic) can do pretty much what a spider can do <3

extremely flexible…she does gymnastics 🤸🏽‍♀️ and does yoga 🧘🏽‍♀️ to help center herself and it’s kind of an escape from her reality

miguel had an eye on her because he was curious and surprise to stumble upon a spider person with telekinesis—he eventually comes to her earth and scouts her…she’s very stubborn and snarky at first but agrees to join

i’d like to think that she would challenge him and be reluctant to follow him and in a way it’s a game of push and pull between them; she keeps him on his toes while he simply puts up with her because it’s something he looks forward to everyday

at first they wouldn’t get along pretty well just because they both think differently and are polar opposites 😭

when they do start to get along they form a rare bond it’s just an unspoken thing between them and many of the spider people don’t get how 2 diff people have a thing for each other but they make it work

miguel would be cautious of her but NEVER underestimates her just because she’s a rare gem and has such cool powers & a lot of the spider people admire her for that—she’d be close to spider people who have unique abilities like her tbh !!

she’s super close to the spidey gang and probably has a soft spot for miles, margo, & gwen LOL + hobie & pav would treat her as a sibiling more so :p

———

a/n: please let me know if you want a pt. 2 & elaborate more with the relationship between her and miguel <3 also these are mine headcanons so if you seen a similar one out there i didn’t take inspo from that!!

tags 🏷️: @kairiscorner

#spiderman atsv #spider man: across the spider verse #miguel o'hara #miguel o’hara x reader #atsv x reader #miguel spiderman #spider person #miguel o’hara x y/n #spidersona #ao3 works #telekenisis #telepathic #telekinetic!spidey!fem!reader #my headcanons #🌱 lin writes

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melon-cream-enmu · 1 year

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Cw monsters/sentient monstrous animals. Actual octopus Azul actual eel Floyd but they’re more monster than animal, monster research au(?), afab reader, tentacle sex, octopus sex, I wouldn’t label this as Azul fucking you because he likes you, more so he is curious and feels a way he can’t yet describe about you, plus size body descriptions but not in a ‘sexual’ way, Azul is just observing you, you get ‘walked in on’ by a coworker/boss/head researcher whatever, you don’t get fired it’s fine, I could do more to this if you would like, my ask box should be fixed and working. I can absolutely write for all of the characters, will just need a lil help finding creatures for some of them (help meaning I’d love to hear your ideas pwease:3) they can speak with humans telepathically, and maybe I can give them more humanoid forms too. Just would need to find a way to explain that

Hhmmmmmm……………twst ‘monsters’ au……Azul is a new species of giant octomonster in the aquarium, which is more like a giant facility to house these sentient life forms while they are studied and allow people to observe something they’d otherwise never see, and he gains an interest in you. You talk with him, about your day, about his food, about lab results and his test work, about nearly anything. The eelmonsters that he was snared with keep teasing him, wondering why he hasn’t eaten you yet.

But the way you gently stroke his mantle and fiddle with the stray tentacle that he lets wander to investigate you, there’s something about it. It makes him feel…he doesn’t know. His primal instincts are confused and it makes him angry, he’s a docile monster, but still a monster.

There’s a day where Floyd had become restless, splashing near the surface and trying to escape, and while standing over him and observing, his tail lashed out of the water and swept your feet from under you, a giant wave of water following to add insult to injury quite literally. Your ass was definitely sore, but you couldn’t dwell on it when familiar tentacles crawled out of the water and picked you up slowly.

You were set back down in front of him, Azul’s eyes just barely above the water and looking at you. You were stunned but stuttered out a thank you. He’s so much bigger than you, tentacles thicker than your body at some points, eyes nearly as big as your head, it was intimidating and a bit frightening to be handled by something of his size. You look down at your soaked clothes. You’d have to go grab your spare clothes from your locker.

He wonders why he helped as he watches you leave, and grows annoyed and Floyd’s yelling and frantic movements. He begins to slap at him, trying to shoo him away but the eelmonster is too fast and slippery. All he ends up doing causing a ruckus and even more of a mess. Your shouts are heard above the noise and he stops. “Please don’t do that, your friend in there already made enough of a mess!” You scold lightly. “I didn’t even have time to change…” There were no cameras above the water and the tanks, all visually recorded research was done inside them, so it would be ok to change here.

You wipe down your table nearby and set your clothes down before beginning to take off your soaked ones. Peeling away wet and sticky fabric, you decided it was best to take everything off and dry off before trying to put anything else on. As you do so, you don’t notice the tentacles slowly inching out of the water, over the cold metal floor, atop the wet rubber mat you stand on, and near your body.

Azul couldn’t help it. He’d never seen a human before being taken here with the two others after that bad storm that snared all three of them. He’d never seen a human, and he’d absolutely never seen one in this state. Your skin was shiny and wet, and your chest was heavy, flesh hanging and shifting as you moved, and your abdomen did the same. Heavy flesh with textures not unlike some monsters under the sea, but you were of course much warmer in comparison. Your legs were big as well, and between there was more hair. He didn’t know humans could have so much hair, he’d seen that your arms have it before but this was of course new. All of it was new, and he couldn’t help but want to touch and know more.

You flinch as something cold, slimy, and wet touches your foot. When you try to step back the suctions of what you know is his tentacle grasp your skin and soon wrap around your ankle. “Hey, stop it.” He doesn’t. The octomonster only continues to reach tentacles forward with creeping motions until more of your body is being held. You struggle and kick, thinking he’s going to drown and eat you.

Your wild flailing allows him to see what’s between your legs, past the hair. There’s a parting of skin, one that doesn’t look too foreign, but he understands that he doesn’t know what it is. He gets poked and prodded at, he should be able to able to poke and prod at you.

A curled tentacle feels your skin, pushing slightly to feel your folds part. You squeak, trying to force your legs closed but the monsters tentacles hold them apart. Your flesh is warm, so warm he feels he may burn, and you’re slick. He didn’t think human skin could be like this, as he slides the back of the tentacle back and forth. He feels that it can go deeper, and when he presses at that spot, he can’t tell how deep it goes. You’ve gone quiet, and he looks up at your face.

Your eyes are shut tight and your lips pressed together. He pushes and pulls away several times, watching how your face scrunches with each push. Your bottom lip pushes out in a pout when he pushes the tentacle inside you. It’s squishy, with bumps and soft spots and something stopping him from going further, and though he can feel a small opening, the way you grit your teeth tells him not to try. He wiggles the tentacle inside, petting with the smooth back, letting his suckers suction lightly and pop wetly. When he decides he’s explored enough he withdraws his limb, slowly, careful not to hurt you.

But he stops when you make a sound he’s never heard. Maybe he did hurt you, he thinks as he looks at your face again. But you’re squeezing him, so much that it’s hard to pull out of you, as if you don’t want him to. He watches as your legs open wider and you try to move your hips down. So you want him to keep going? Ok,

He withdraws much of the tentacle before plunging it back in, and you whine. He does it again and you lips part this time, a moan slipping past them. So he gains a rhythm and a moderate pace and your sounds get nicer, louder. You seem to be enjoying yourself. He brings you closer to his face and your arms struggle against him. He lets them go, tightening those tentacles around your body to support you instead and he feels your hand reach down your body to touch the slimy limb moving in and out of you.

Soon your hips are writhing and your body squeezing him tight, pulsing sporadically. He feels something, maybe slimy but it’s not from him. He pulls his limb from inside you and looks at it. Something white-ish covers it’s in a semi transparent sheen, mixing with his own slickness in a strange and hypnotic way. You fall forward while he’s distracted and you land softly on his mantle. He’s still holding you securely but it startles him, his body flinching and flashing a pale color.

He sets you down gently, removing tentacles one by one as you breathe heavily, eyes fluttering as they try to stay open and looking at him. He watches for a moment then sinks back into the water. On the way to the bottom, searching for a place to curl up in, that eel comes to pester him. ‘That’s not fair. I can’t go up there and play with them!’ He says, to which Azul bites back. ‘I wasn’t playing’ ‘then what were you doing’ he squeezes into a crevice between rocks and settles into the small space before responding. ‘…I don’t know.’

#I love monsters #I imagine Azul to just be a giant octopus with sentience like in monster stories #maybe I’ll have them speak telepathically to the reader #yo separate them a bit more from animals #the twins are more monstrous looking #with big fangs that often protrude from the mouths and very expressive eyes and lips #purposely biting and visibly giggling as they writhe #they’d be like #really thick #big enough to easily swallow you without even unhinging their jaws #and maybe more then 8 feet long #I’m not sure #toasted for monster #toasted sugar cream #cream afab #cream wonderland #cream writes

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monpalace · 2 years

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When the telekinetic-telepathic has a mental bond with her soulmate. Teasing from ensues.

So, you're an omega-level mutant, right? You're telepathic-telekinetic? I know we've talked about it before, but it's always interesting to hear things about you, Jean.

There's a laugh from the other side of the link and Ms. Marvel Girl closes her mind off to the bustling students around her. It's a lot easier to deal with when it's only you, she responds. She was working on something for Professor Xavier— his mutant psychology and physiology class from what you could interpret. It's just.. so many things at once. I've recently learned how to shut it all up, but it still takes a lot of effort on my part, y'know?

I can figure, you respond with a fluttery feeling of your own. The softness of her voice and exhausted sincerity in her words made something in you fill with sympathy and pity. It sucks we aren't anywhere near each other. Do you think it'd be any better if we were?

Some part of Jean flusters at your thoughts. The mutant part her tries to recede into the further corners of her mind, but the soulmate part is unable to do the same. While a conversation is with you could never dull to be boring (she found you the most interesting in the world), she could still feel it start to become awkward from her side.

She'd think herself better equipped than this. She'd never probe someone's mind to know their innermost feelings, only figure out what next they wanted to talk about; but she doesn't want to do that to you.

Instead, she goes for (probably) the worst option on the list.

I can feel you're a mutant too. You can— What? What's wrong? What'd I do?

No, no! You didn't do anything. I just forget that you can do that— I didn't expect you to..

I really, truly am sorry! I just— I assumed and I shouldn't have and I— Jean stops herself when she feels you start to calm. The thought of helping your process by sending the feeling of lying down in a soft bed, the sensation of an animal putting their full weight on your lap, the sun beating against your skin while sunbathing on the beach— she quickly stops when she realizes you could hear her thoughts as though she were yelling them at the top of her lungs.

You encourage the train of thought, much to the befuddlement of Jean, and offer some of your own. You can keep going, if you want. I don't mind. You tease, trying to get her mind off of what happened seconds prior. Bringing them back to both of your attentions. Is that how you see me? It's so..

Accurate? Jean finished for you, bashfulness emanating from her. I don't think you'd want to know how..

I have a stalker?

Soulmate, she corrects, but.. yes.

Is it because you looked around with cerebro? You pry, a sly feeling washing over you. Jean was more than in-tuned with your mind, feeling you already knew the answer. Or did you look me up online? I don't recall a connection giving you any clues for your soulmate's looks.

Jean went quiet, lips pressed thin before she jumps out of her thoughts (and you). A rough knock on her door causes whatever subconscious mental gymnastics her mutation was working through, all the items in her dorm drop to the floor, thumps coming from the room beneath her's at all the noise.

Hold on, she grunts as she stands, feeling bruises form all over her body. Scott's here.

You're hurt?

I wasn't entirely mentally present.

Ouch. You reply with an airy noise of amusement. What does he want?

There was no feeling of jealousy in you or your words. Both of you were comfortable with where you stood in your situation-ship.

Another mission, Jean sighs. Putting on a knowing smile, she opens the door and offers a soft greeting to Scott. I have to go and get ready. Think about you later?

There's a hum of confirmation from you, Jean able to sense the adoration and worry as though they were trying to pull her under. Remember to check in every-so often?

Of course.

Then I'll think to you later.

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bunny-yan · 1 year

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Telepathic!Yandere x GN!Reader

TW: language, this one is pretty tame, still no minors

—

This sucked.

You were at the supermarket, walking lackadaisically through the produce aisle, shivering your ass off because you refused to bring your jacket due to it being eighty-five degrees outside. The sweat, from the natural sauna you called a planet, had begun to dry and you were in this weird area between moist and dry that made you want to take a cheese grater to your skin.

You felt gross. You wanted a bath, but your ex-boyfriend insisted that you get groceries because your fridge was bordering empty from the last get together you hosted with your friends, so cleanliness would have to wait.

“Boyfriend.”

What was that? You couldn’t hear anything over the sound of your pores wailing at the cruel frozen torture they endured.

“Boyfriend. And I told you that you could wear my jacket. You’re just being stubborn.”

There it was again. Maybe the abrupt change in temperature your body endured was causing you to hear things. It wasn’t the craziest assumption. You often got light-headed or nosebleeds when it was too hot so you couldn’t be too far off.

“You aren’t funny.”

If only you were joking. If this was a light, happy moment you might’ve teased him about the two of of you still being together but you didn’t want to be. You didn’t want to be here, getting groceries with him.

“Okay first of all, ouch. Second, can we not do this right now? I don’t feel like having this talk.”

Talk. A funny way to phrase it considering you weren’t speaking. You’d been giving him the silent treatment ever since you found out, trying to figure if there was some way you could keep your private thoughts private, but it was a concept that wouldn’t exist as long as you were near him. He didn’t care about your privacy as long as he could spy on you.

“I don’t spy. We’ve had this conversation. You act like I’m doing this on purpose.”

Whether he was doing it on purpose or not didn’t matter. It was the fact that he could. And he did.

You’d spent the majority of your relationship ignorant of what your seemingly perfect boyfriend could do, feeling like a dumbass when it slipped out during one of the many fights you had.

He mentioned something about how handsy a drunk guy was getting with you at a party to somehow insinuate that you were being unfaithful, something that he shouldn’t have known considering he was allegedly visiting his parents.

“I was visiting my parents. You don’t have to be suspicious about every thing I said I was doing.”

You supposed it was true. He didn’t have to follow you around in order to know what you were doing. Just a quick scan of your brain and he knew everything down to what you had for breakfast. It was you who were left wondering if everything in your relationship was a lie.

You wished he’d never told you the truth.

You wouldn’t spend every moment of your relationship wondering whether or not each moment you shared was a fabricated. You could ask, but how would you know the truth? You always felt like it was odd that there was never an uncomfortable silence hanging awkwardly between the two of you. You’d never had a conversation last for as long as it usually did between the two of you. He always seem to know just what to say, especially on those dark days and it made you feel like he was the one. But he wasn’t. He just cheated his way into your heart.

“So, what? You would’ve preferred our relationship be a lie?”

That’s what it was. Built on lies. It was strange that you considered it a relationship at all considering you were just dating a replica of your ideal person. This wasn’t real. You wanted to end it so you could move on with your life.

“You’re not breaking up with me. As soon as you allow yourself to take a moment, you’ll realize that you’re being ridiculous. I’m not going to let you end this on a selfish whim. You know what? Fine.”

He grabbed your hand, placing the keys in them before going to push the basket forward.

“You can go wait in the car where you’ll be out of my range. I’m tired of hearing this. We’ll talk about it when we get home.”

You could just take the car and leave him stranded in the middle of the supermarket.

“You won’t. Now will you stop being such a brat and go wait for me in the car? Please?”

You glared at him, unable to find refuge in your thoughts. The silent treatment only served to make you more frustrated since he wasn’t cut off from communicating with you. Walking towards the car, you couldn’t believe you didn’t realize you had been dating such an asshole.

“Always for you.”

You didn’t like it one bit.

#telepathy #yandere #yandere oc #male yandere #telepathic yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x you #yandere x reader #yandere x gn reader #gn reader

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thesoftieanon · 1 year

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Writing Master List

Gandani/Daughter of Ganon AU

Concept

Concept pt. 2

Ghirahim (Father vs Daughter)

FD and First

Story Incoming?

Names and Reforging

The Past

Possible Ships

Hyrule’s Gift

Just Die

Spice Tolerance

Adoption (Dad! Ganondorf)

Spite (Rebellion)

So… Oops? (Sorry Wars-)

The Exception to the Redhead Rule

I Am Not You

You Get A Snippet

Hesper (Daughter of Nyx)

Shadows

Childhood (Trauma)

Ship Song

If the Curse Gets Lifted

The Parasol/Gifts

Weapons

FD and Hesper Get Along

How the Chain Feels

Cards Dealt

Four’s Shadow Adores Her

Demigod! And Twi’s Relationship

Shared Custody

Oh? What is This?

Hesper and Blind! Reader

Momma Hesper

Someday

Sleep

The Sheep

Blind and Sol

Thoughts on Blind

Momma Hesper Gets Angry

Hesper and Time

Them in a Nutshell

Hesper Sounds Like Aurora (The Singer)

Dangerous to Be Alone (Ongoing? Maybe-)

If Time Went Down

Telepath! Reader

Introductions

Loftwing Isn’t a Number

Lore

2080

Memories

Don’t Tell Him(Favorites)

ACT NORMAL

Jealousy?

The Post That Inspired FD! Telepath

FD! Telepath

Enough Damage (Demigod! Reader)

Flirting (What You Should Have Said)

Break Formation

Pining

Guess

Abuse of Power

Kid Hero! Reader

Ghosts

From Telepath to Ghost

Destiny (Ongoing)

Blind and Monster! Reader

Others 1 2

Thoughts and Secrets

Telepath and Warriors

The Assassin

A Selfish Man

Twilight Checks In

Legend Checks In (Ongoing)

I Can Hear You (Ongoing)

Anon Request

FD! Sky

#Softie reblogs #Softie writes #Softie rambles #telepath! reader #Gandani #Daughter of Ganon AU #Softie has an Oc for everything #Hesper

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