#feminine reader

THE PARTY X SOFT! FEM READER

Summary: soft girl of the party has a soft heart. The heart who gains all the hearts of the party no matter what she doesn’t mean to do.

Info: this is implied as a fluttershy!reader cause look at the pic I chose as a header?? Anyways will is platonic of cuz he’s gay tf?? Lumax x reader and then mileven x reader. Just greedy yall, and also Dustin is more of a brother figure that now has a little sister figure.

Genre: fluff

Wordcount: 1,190

The softest girl to ever be in Hawkins.

Y/n L/N, friends to Mike Wheeler, Lucas Sinclair, Dustin Henderson, Max Mayfield, and Jane Hopper.

She’s homeschooled due to her anxiety peaking every second someone stares at her. Feeling the stares of people, feeling like they’re just gonna laugh at her makes her sick to her stomach.

She used to eat alone in Mr. Clark’s classroom, not handling school life very well. Dustin was always there for her, like a brother, as he tried to also eat lunch with her. He even suggested eating in the AV club room.

She enjoyed his comfort a lot, and Dustin enjoyed making her comfortable.

Will and Y/n always had drawing contests because Dustin said she could beat Will at anything he could draw. Which prompted the two quiet kids to immediately click due to their interest in drawings be art.

Lucas was always there to back her up, if someone was talking over her, he would shut everything down to make sure people heard her.

Even Mike did it mostly, he’d always look at y/n to make sure she was comfortable. If she’s too silent and is looking down at her fingers. Chewing on her nails, picking at the flesh of her fingers.

He’d put his hand on her shoulder or just put his hand on hers.

Having eleven in the party’s life brought more things to the table.

After Will went missing, y/n felt sick, sick physically at the thought her beloved friend was dead.

She missed all the action being homeschooled and grieving the potential loss of a friend. But she didn’t know that Mike was practically ranting about her to a girl named eleven.

Eleven saw a picture of Y/n, immediately stalking the poor soft girl in the void. She saw y/n writing, wearing a soft yellow cardigan and a pink and white dress.

Y/n didn’t know how eleven was just staring at the pretty girl.

“Pretty.” Eleven repeated out loud, eleven got out of the void. Knowing who y/n now is. She understands how Mike can just bring her up every 3 minutes.

Time passed, Will was actually alive and well, bringing y/n to a soft relief. Hugging him at the hospital, the party felt restored.

Meeting Max, was kinda weird to say. Y/n was taking a fresh breath of air after being home all evening. While she walked on the sidewalk, wearing her favorite palette clothing of pink, yellow, and white, a girl came rushing in with her skateboard towards her.

Not that she meant it on purpose, it’s just y/n didn’t see her clearly.

She ran y/n over with her skateboard, making her fall on her back, and Max fell on her side.

“SHIT!” Max yells, getting up to even grab her skateboard. Y/n got up to also get her skateboard, trying to ignore the stinging feeling in her hands and butt.

“Are you okay?” Y/n’s soft voice did her magic. Ring through someone’s head. Max felt her hands touch hers, but they left as she got electrocuted. Making the redhead pull her hand back.

“Yeah.. I’m okay. But I should be asking you that.” Max quickly said, ignoring the feeling she felt. She grabbed y/n’s hand, seeing the small bruises on the skin.

“I’m fine,” Y/n spoke, looking at Max. She realized the girl hadn’t practically seen before. “Are you new here?” She asked.

Max nodded as she started to grab her skateboard and pull y/n towards the other way. “I’m Max, what’s your name?” Max says, finding this an opportunity to just know more about this girl who has gotten her attention. And maybe even heart oddly.

“I’m y/n!” Y/n said excitedly, happy to make a friend.

And it went from there as soon as the party had fully known one thing as time grew. The party made a devoted rule towards the girl, and that was never to yell or speak loudly towards her at all.

Everyone took it seriously.

A little too seriously, eleven was by y/n who was shopping. During the summer was fun as y/n softly smiled towards the teenage girl.

“I think this cardigan would look good on me.” She says, Eleven smiled back. Loving the soft smile she and Mike adored.

“Yes. It’s perfect, for you.” She says in the same tone you spoke.

Nodding, you go to the cashier to get this. The cashier seemed to be cranky, not liking how the poor girl was trying to get her wallet from her purse.

“Can you hurry up?? This isn’t the retirement home sweetie.” The man said, gruffly and roughly which made y/n flinch a bit while she felt her heart spike. Not cause of the man’s voice. No. Cause was she really holding up the line?

“Sorry sir I’m just—”

“I don’t need a backstory, hurry up.”

Eleven’s brows narrowed, not liking how the man was talking to the girl. After getting the money on the counter and quickly leaving.

Eleven stayed a bit behind, squeezing her hand, making most of the clothing rackets fall to the ground. The man was in shock and stumbled at what happened.

“What the?!”

Eleven wiped her nose with her hand. Walking quietly by the girl’s side.

Summer came quicker than blinking.

Will and y/n would have a drawing contest at his house, he’d even let y/n play a bit of D&D mostly. She understood most of it, it was nice to know what the boys liked.

“That’s beautiful y/n!” Will complimented the girl who smiled widely. “But check mine out!” He exclaimed, showing a picture of him and y/n dancing around with music notes in medieval times.

Y/n put her work down to do some happy claps. “Omg!! That’s amazing, you should be an all-time artist.”

Her soft voice mixed with praise and excitement, and even encouragement. It brought will even more up to being open to her.

Sadly she couldn’t hang out with Dustin since he was mostly hanging out with Steve instead. But that was fine since she got to hang out with the other party members during the summer.

Although it felt like she was third wheeling.

During the summer, Mike and eleven would persuade y/n to hang out with them a lot at Hopper’s cabin. Due to of course eleven can’t be seen out in public.

Not without her pet bunny, named Angel of course. Eleven seemed to freeze seeing the bunny, y/n forgot about the lab while she goes to hide Angel away. But eleven wanted to show that she can get over her trauma.

For their girl, as Mike has said once to eleven. Practically claiming the girl for him and eleven.

And eleven liked that.

Meanwhile, Lucas and Max would plan movie dates at y/n’s house. Making sure they had her perfectly between them both.

Lucas felt like a king, having two beautiful girls with him was heaven. Max and Lucas squeezed both of y/n’s hands

Not even bothering to tell how flushed the girl was.

“What is happening…” y/n thought to herself.

She didn’t know that she was the butterfly surrounded by flowers needing her attention.

────୨ৎ────

₊˚ෆ Simon who told himself he was too old to date now (late 30's is not old), but somehow found you, his beautiful girl.

₊˚ෆ Simon who knew he had to have you the moment he saw your soft expression. His guarded-up heart melted those icy walls with one bat of your eyes.

₊˚ෆ The same Simon who held a gun for weeks on end, started to house your hand in his instead.

₊˚ෆ He was obsessed with the smell of your hair. Not in a creepy, stalker way, but in the way he'd always make sure to restock your favorite shampoos and conditioners.

₊˚ෆ Rough and scar ridden Simon, who loved to spoil his sweet girl. Whether it be with new clothes, or good morning kisses, he was spoiling you rotten.

₊˚ෆ Not one for PDA, but he can never say no to a quick hug and kiss from you.

₊˚ෆ Simon who has made himself softer over the years of being with you. His once defined body was now gentler. Thanks to your amazing cooking/baking, he can never say no to an extra plate.

₊˚ෆ The same Simon who would tell dad jokes on missions, would tell the jokes to you in the quiet mornings. He would say the silliest of things just to see you laugh.

₊˚ෆ Simon Riley who never gets nervous on the field, but the second he thinks about starting a life with you, to truly settle down--he's nothing but nervous. Nervous he won't be a good husband to you, or even a good father if you ever decided to have kids. But he knows he can do it if it's with you.

────୨ৎ────

Eminem x reader

Caution: sexual content ♡

𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖻𝗒 © 𝗮𝗺𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗳𝗹𝗼𝗿𝗲𝘀.

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 𓄲 when fire turns everything into ashes , even love. or in which ──── rhaenyra realises her feelings for the woman whose loyalty has never faltered with time .

𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒 : romance , contents , warnings : cheating ( it’s daemon nobody cares about his groomer ass ) suggestive ( making out ) angst reader has long and curly hair female reader with feminine characteristics fluff ⠀wc : 1.6 k

scented notes : happy birthday to my special girl @faiszt whom i love very very much ! i love you with all my heart i hope this fanfiction will make you happy <33

The sea always brought comfort to her agitated mind. Waves crashed on the shore, the same as those invading thoughts. When it happened , she always left her rock on Syrax to find the ocean. It offered a comfort different from flying on her dearest dragon’s back, different from her long-gone mother Aemma , different from the arms of the man she was supposed to love.

Today , she was exhausted. She didn’t want to rejoin Syrax , storming off like a child whose mother had refused to give her something. Anger ravaged her guts like fire consuming a forest. In those moments , she wished to kill him. Daemon was a man who lacked compassion. To be frank , he lacked empathy and understanding when it came to the living world surrounding him. Her mind wondered if he even loved her , late at night as he slept in their shared bed while those doubts tormented her awake.

Leaning forward , her hands flattened on the rock before her. The blue and eternal ocean was extending before her. 

I am so sorry for the literal months long wait, Anon, I had so much going on these last few months. I'll make it longer to compensate.

Sniper NSFW Headcanons:

Sniper has always been a bit of an outcast, even among his fellow group of mercenaries, and in turn this lead to him being relatively socially awkward.

Despite being rather aloof, he does find himself craving some forms of personal relations, whether that be some camaraderie, romance, etc. Even some small talk would soothe him, really.

So when the both of you finally realized you shared some common ground and a mutual trust, he was nearly a different person than when you first met. Much more talkative, much more touchy, though he never lost his distant edge. And due to his line of work, this supposed distance could be rather long, longer than both of you wished for.

When he finally gets back home, you can tell he missed you just as much as you missed him. But not just in the emotional sense. He missed every last bit of you. And Mundy was always one to claim what he believes is rightfully his.

He starts off relatively slow, relishing in the softness of your lips, moving a stray strand of hair, gazing into your eyes, sharing a smile with you.

And before you knew it, you were smitten again. But just as he believes he can claim what is rightfully his, he also believes in ravishing every last inch of his muse, preferring to enjoy himself thoroughly.

Expect bite marks and hickies all over the place. Since he's claiming you, expect them to be in places where all can see. From your head to your toes, you will be marked. His favorite spots to mark you are your neck, arms, shoulders, and collarbone.

He also enjoys leaving hickies on the trace of your happy trail.

Whenever he fingers you, don't expect him to show any form of reluctance. You're his, and he's yours. His fingers will forever curve deeply inside your vaginal canal, swishing around as he watches the wetness drip from your tight, swollen hole.

He also enjoys stretching you out with both of his hands, watching the pink internal flesh pulsate, all while leaking with your cum. Do expect him to stick his tongue in very deeply when ravishing you, and he is no stranger to light biting as well.

He'll bury his face deeply inside of your pussy, enjoying the musky scent you emit, occasionally licking and sucking your thighs, leaving many more hickies in the process.

Do expect him to thrust very deeply inside, he'll definitely leave it in much longer than you'd prefer, but he just loves watching your over stimulated face contort into phases of pleasure. Most notably how you go crossed eyed from him deeply hitting your sweet spot.

If you're alright with it, he'll even piss inside of you. There's just something about the musky stench of sex, mixed in with the tangy scent of piss that drives him wild, and it happens to be coming out of you, no less.

Despite all of this, he is one who enjoys aftercare post climax.

If you're too overwhelmed, he'll place your head onto his chest, gently stroking your hair, and whispering strong reassurance into your ears. That thick, raspy, yet soothing Australian accent is a heart shot that sends chills down your spine.

Secondly, I wanted to take a request for a yandere baki? Like, he falls for a classmate who is really shy and insecure but she secretly trains to become more confident and stronger? Maybe Baki wants to help her (or not depends on how you think yandere baki would be) and also protect her?

Sorry if my request is a little bit confusing ^^" If it's too random for you, you can just write general yandere baki headcanons :") I hope you have a nice day and thank you in advance :D<3

𝐀 𝐇𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝

𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚!𝘽𝙖𝙠𝙞 𝙭 𝙁𝙚𝙢!𝙍𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

Trigger Warnings; Bad writing, she/her pronouns, possessive thoughts, not really yandere, reader is depicted as really socially awkward and clumsy, uhhh Kozue doesn't exist in this universe ig (I'm sorry bbg) It's no problem, nonny! I love it when ya'll give me random scenarios lol. Though I write really slowly, so sorry that it's been so long... Enjoy and give me any feedback! I'm still trying to tweak Baki's character profile!

“C’mon, do one more. You got this,” 

You panted, stretching your muscles to the extent you could, bringing your chin above the bar, trying to focus on the searing stretch in your muscles, and using it to motivate you as you lifted yourself up once more. Your thighs were clenched, trying to fight gravity, and get twenty pull-ups, surprising yourself when your head gets above the bar. 

Seventeen… that’s Baki’s age, you think with a small smile gracing your face as you go for another one, only to whine, wincing as your arms refuse to move. Just as you’re about to drop, you feel your classmate, who you’re too nervous to call a friend, hands grab your waist, helping you down from the pull-up bar. His hands cupped your waist, practically carrying your weight in his hands, catching you off-guard.

“I-thank you, Baki,” You mumbled, glancing over your shoulder as he set you on the ground, and smiling. A warm feeling fluttered in your chest, feeling accomplished at how many pull-ups you did. Only just a month ago, you couldn’t even hang from the bar without getting sore, but with Baki’s help, you’ve improved so much! It makes you giddy as you think of your progress, of how far you’ve come, and how much stronger you’ll be in the future. It gives you a surge of confidence whenever you find yourself exerting some of your newfound strength, beginning to love yourself a little more. 

“No problemo,” Baki shrugs, trying to remain lax, ignoring the throbbing of his heart. He got to touch you, place his hands on your waist, and carry your weight. God, you’re so pretty, even when you’re all sweaty. He felt like a lovesick schoolboy (he is). Your presence feels like a punch to the gut, giving him a newfound energy, the same feeling he chases when he fights. His heart pumping blood throughout his body, forcing it through his veins as his brain races with thoughts, thoughts, and more thoughts. He can almost feel his hands shake, practically begging his conscience for a chance to grab, hold, and smother you with affection, to pepper kisses all over your face, and praise your body in a way you deserve. 

He can’t even describe the surge of joy he got when you asked him for help, looking at him… well you didn’t look at him, preferring the ground’s gaze whenever you talk to him, but that didn’t matter too much. Your words were far more important. The moment your soft voice shyly asked for him to train you, to help you out because you wanted to be better, to be more confident. 

And while Baki loved you for who you were and the way you were he understood. He understood wanting to be better, to strive for more and more until your nails have gone raw and bloody, unable to claw away. He understands the feeling of not being where you want to be, of not being stronger, or accomplishing more. 

Though you both have different reasons for training, he understands the core values of it. You’re training to help build confidence and find value in yourself, while Baki does it because it’s a staple in his life, the only consistent pillar throughout his short years. But you both share the determination and though you likely will never be as strong as him, which is completely okay and likely how he’d prefer it, he admires how you had the confidence to approach him, asking him for help with something so personal.

Of course, he said yes. What kind of man would he be if he denied you help? Especially when you asked so sweetly? He still remembers how his cheeks grew warm and how he could hear his heart thud against his ribs at the idea of watching you work out. And though, Baki will never admit to it… you’re just so pretty, the prettiest thing he’s ever seen. You’re so soft, so kind, and just so cute. There’s no way he can’t gawk, respectfully, whenever he sees you squat, or how you smile whenever you complete a set, looking at him with amazement. Sometimes you’ll even hug him! And, honestly, he could die a happy man!

He tries his hardest, never wanting to make you uncomfortable, keeping your best interests in mind, and that’s why he absolutely refuses to let you work out in public. Nope, nope, nope, that’s not going to happen. Sure, you two can go on a run together, but he makes sure to give you one of his athletic zip-ups, not wanting guys to gawk at you, knowing that they will. 

It doesn’t matter that you’re only sixteen, he knows how men think, how they reduce you to your body. You’re so much more than that, and that’s why his blood boiled when he saw a guy let his eyes trail across your body as you did some push-ups. Yeah, no, you’re never going to a public gym again, that was the first and last time he’d ever let you do that. 

And if you were to ask, he’ll just say that you can’t even imagine the amount of sweat and bacteria on those machines. Can’t you imagine how many sweaty, grubby hands have touched those dumbbells? Or how many people have sat on that bench? Yeah, you can’t give him a number, and after that, you refused to touch your face without washing your hands and wiping away any grime from your face with a wet wipe, even upping your skincare a little.

Don’t get it wrong, you’re not a germaphobe or anything, but you had to agree with Baki, though you weren’t going to challenge him either way. You had noticed the gleam in his eyes as he pulled you up and off the floor, stopping you in the middle of your rep. Of course, you pouted a little, seeing as you were about to do ten push-ups! But you didn’t say anything, not wanting to stir any trouble, so you just kept your head down as Baki said you guys were going to end early. 

You didn’t want to, but you trusted Baki, and you weren’t going to say no when he looked so sure of himself. You hadn’t noticed the way his eyes seemingly darkened when he walked behind you, noticing how your leggings hugged you too tightly, nor did you seem to care when he handed you a jacket, saying you looked a little cold. If anything, you thought it was extremely sweet, and it made your cheeks grow warm, and your stomach does flips. 

“Well, it’s getting pretty late; you want me to take you home?” Baki’s voice draws you out of your little trip down memory lane, causing you to look up from your hands, which you were probably staring at for an embarrassing amount of time. With a small smile, you nod your head, turning to face Baki, and wiping some sweat from your brow. 

“Um, sure! That sounds like a plan-” You cut yourself off with an awkward chuckle, internally cursing yourself for being such a dork. I mean, what could Baki, probably the strongest man in the world, be thinking of you? He probably thinks you're super duper weird and that you sweat too much, oh God. What if you smell! 

Slowly losing yourself in your thoughts, Baki quirked a brow, noticing that you seemingly were spacing out, so, like any normal person who definitely hasn’t been daydreaming about his moment since he first met you, he placed his hand on your shoulder and tilts his head, “*Hey, are you good? You’re not lightheaded or anything, right? That wouldn’t be too good, yeah?*”

Baki had a small, reassuring smile on his lips, and the small mole on his upper lip stretched slightly, catching your attention. Feeling your cheeks heat up, your brain went into override, becoming overwhelmed with how close Baki was. You could see all the pores in his skin, and you could feel him too. His palm was oddly warm, maybe a little sweaty, but that was probably just you… ew. His hand cupped your shoulder, thumb drumming against your colder skin softly as he awaited your response, but you just looked at him with parted lips, eyes wide, and mind blank. 

You definitely looked like an idiot, you were sure of it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, feeling a little awestruck. Let’s just say that conversations have really never been your thing, especially when they’re cute guys without a shirt. Trying your best, you succeeded in keeping your eyes locked on his face, not letting them linger and drift down to his neck, where his SCM muscle flowed down to his clavicle and mended with the infrahyoid muscle group, only for his trapezius muscle to lay over his shoulder blade and peak from his back. His pectoralis majors were bulging against his sternum, making him seem more like a bodybuilder than a normal, teenage boy, not even to mention his serratus anterior, which was clearly defined and wrapped around his sides-

“Geez, man, you’re such a creep, staring at my muscles,” Baki chuckled, hiding how giddy he felt with your eyes on him, him, him.  His hand moved from your shoulder to your head, ruffling your hair with a cheeky grin as he tilted his head teasingly, “Is that a little drool I see there?” The hand on your head moved to cup your cheek, rubbing his thumb over your lower lip, as if there were really drool (there wasn’t, he just wanted to make you flustered). His calloused fingers teased your cheek, almost covering your whole face, and you thought you might just die. 

“Pphha-Oh, my God! I’m so, so sorry, Baki! That was so weird-” You fumbled over yourself, practically jumping away from his hand with a warm face. Your lips were trembling slightly, your nerves dripping through your veins as you cracked your knuckles, unsure of what to do with yourself as you felt your blood turn into molten lava. Standing with your arms straight and hands by your side, you quickly maneuvered to get your stuff, quickly remembering what the conversation was. Slinging your duffle bag over your shoulder, your legs were unstable as you steadied yourself and glanced around Baki’s home, not wanting to come anywhere near his gaze. 

“Well, anyways-I, um… I think I should go, um, home.” I spoke unceremoniously, ending your words with an out-of-place cough, only fueling Baki’s amusement as he looked you up and down. You were just so cute. He could just eat you up. His syrupy brown eyes swirled with amusement, taking in your nervous form. He really is obsessed, isn’t he?

He can’t get enough of your flustered smile, the way your lips quirk and tremble as you let meaningless words slip from your lips. Your eyes always got so scattered, flickering across whatever room, just to avoid his gaze. Although he’d love for you to get more comfortable, to just relax around him, he does enjoy these moments where you slur your speech and wave your hands around; it’s comforting in a sense. Deciding not to push any further, knowing your heart would probably thump out of your chest, he shrugs his shoulders and gives your bicep a small tap, “Sure thing, I’ll let you off this time.”

His voice was soft and playful as to coax you out of being so nervous. You just smile stiffly, feeling your heart thump, thump, thump, going crazy in your ribcage as you try to cool your tense figure, to slow the blood flooding in your ears. Giving him a nervous, wonky smile, you shrug your bag further up your shoulders, needing to do anything to distract you from the situation at hand. Baki was just so cool, and everything about him was amazing, but you were just… you. For God’s sake! Baki is probably the strongest man in the world, for all you know! And he’s training you of all people? He must be an angel or something… 

That’s what you think. You don’t know the gleam that flickers through his eyes whenever you turn away, the pure, utterless obsession that flows through his veins. Though Baki wouldn’t consider himself to be a jealous man, by any means, he can’t help but worry about you. You also don’t know the amount of men he’s dealt with through the school year; the amount of people he’s had to… steer away from you, just to keep you safe. But that’s good. You don’t need to know, ever. 

And you still don’t know as you walk side-by-side through the residential neighborhood, Baki holding your bag, of course. He always insists that he helps you out, seeing as you must be oh so tired from your workout, so just let him help you out, yeah?

To you, it was a smooth night, although a little awkward and embarrassing, it was nice. There was a soft breeze, so it was pleasing on the back of your neck, and you could feel your hair tussle and flow. Humming under your breath, you glance around the neighborhood you know like the back of your hand, and observe the different houses. Many were more 1970s-stylized architecture, but it was pretty nonetheless. They all had dark, wooden frames and sloped roofs, guarded by flimsy, wooden fences. With your eyes locked onto your surroundings, you lost track of how long you’d been walking until Baki suddenly stopped, nudging you for your attention. 

“Oh, thanks for walking me home, Baki…” You chuckle, catching yourself before you could make you look like more of an airhead. Scratching your cheek, you turned your back, standing in front of the gate that led to your small home, where your parents were probably snooping out the window to see what cute boy had brought you home…

“Nah, we’re chillin’. I just want to make sure you’re safe, you know how it is.” He shrugged, giving you a small, endearing smile before shoving his hands into his jean pockets, glancing at the ground before looking back at you. Giggling sheepishly, you messed with the hem of your shirt, before clearing your throat and straightening your posture. The air was oddly relaxing, though still a little stiff.

“Yeah, but you really didn’t need to, especially since you’re carrying my bag, too!” You sighed dramatically, pursing your lips slightly as you tried to make the mood a little lighter, more for yourself than Baki. He chuckled, rolling his eyes a little with some sass, handing you your bag as you motioned for it. 

“Geez, what d’ya think of me? I’d be a pretty shitty friend if I let you walk out here by yourself.” Baki flicked your forehead with a quirked brow, continuing, “But really don’t mention it. You’re like my best friend, practically my responsibility.” He added with a nonchalant grin. 

Nodding your head with a smile, trying to ignore the growing warmth on the back of your neck. God, talking to Baki was so easy, even if you fumbled your words an embarrassing amount of times, and you couldn’t help but feel your brain speed up, racing a million miles per hour. Subconsciously, your eyes kept lingering, down, down, down toward his lips, watching them move as he spoke. No matter how much you tried to ignore it, there was a tug on your heart, feeling a pull toward Baki, and he felt it, too. 

Just do it. Just do it. Just do it. Oh, c’mon! Just do it! You hyped yourself up, adjusting your duffle bag on your shoulder as I leaned your weight onto one foot to another, slightly nudging yourself closer to Baki. Your heart was pounding, ringing in your ears as you kept your eyes nervously locked on his face. Baki had continued talking, rambling off about some fight he had recently. Of course, you loved hearing Baki talk, but you couldn’t think straight, hyper-fixating on this inner turmoil that took over your thoughts. Though Baki had noticed your fidgeting and shift in behavior, he brushed it off as you just being antsy to go to sleep. Wait; why are you so close?

And just like that your lips brushed against his cheek, only there for half a second that Baki thought that he had imagined it. A slip of electricity had shot through both of you, a lingering warmth on his cheek as Baki stared at you with wide eyes. You just kissed him! Baki’s brain went into overload, standing there with his lips parted like a fish. Of course, your face had blossomed with an overwhelming amount of warmth, so hot that even Baki could feel it radiate off of you. Without a second thought, you rushed into your home, though not without running into the half-opened gate and tripping up the steps. 

Baki hadn’t even noticed your clumsy movements, far too focused on the warmth that swelled under his skin, a feeling he wasn’t used to. The tips of his fingers were pulsing, feeling static as he urged himself to do something, but his mind was caught up on what he felt. Everything was upside down, his world spinning, and the rhythm of his heart kept him in a jumble. It felt like his brain was empty but swirling with more thoughts than it should. Your lips felt oh so soft, and he couldn’t forget; he didn’t want to forget. 

“You’re just too much.” He mumbled under his breath, a newfound determination blossomed in his heart, and a lovesick gleam in his brown eyes. You just confirmed everything he’s ever wanted and dreamed of; you were his. You want to be his. That just means that you don’t need them either, all you need is him, and he’s sure you wouldn’t mind just staying at his place, right? You’re practically dating now, and it’s only right that you live together; that’s what couples do, right? 

As he walked away, steps a little off-center, a plan formed in his head, obsessive delusions fueling it. With just one, small kiss, you had decided your fate. No longer could you get off as just being his “best friend”, no. You were his lover now, his future wife. Though you didn’t seem to fully grasp that, Baki’s glad to give a helping hand.

‎ ‎ ‎ feitan portor ♥︎ songstress!reader

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ׅ⏝ׄ⏝࡛⏝ׄ⏝‌୨‌୧ׅ⏝ׄ⏝࡛⏝ׄ⏝ׅ

suggestive, violent, mentions of kidnapping

Your voice was everywhere.

It was mainstream—top listening voices ever in York New City.

You sang in stages with your figure fitted in satin dresses, pink frilly gowns, white veils, and anything gold or silver.

You were the face of songs, and anything feminine or pink.

You were also known for sitting on a rose laced swing on stage, singing with the organ or orchestra.

Your voice emitted melodies that differed from any normal singer.

Your voice soothed nerves, anxiety, and stiff shoulders.

After all, this was your special ability.

You had a cadence that left people turning heads towards you.

It wasn’t so interesting or important at first, but the thought of people who despise you could easily have their knees shaken with just a few words you say—your ability could actually be useful at times.

The stages that made you star were filled to the brim with all the seats occupied with souls eager to hear you sing at least one ballad.

Just anything that was relative to you talking or singing was enough to make someone swoon or sigh.

Not only were you popular for your enamouring, and enchanting voice, your family were even kin to the government officials.

Your name held status, and power.

Something the Phantom Troupe would want to deflower.

However it would be difficult for them to take your wealth away.

Your voice was one thing, and your name was another.

Bodyguard, after bodyguard from all around the world, protected every inch of you.

Especially your voice.

Your voice was a trophy.

A medal hanging on your parents’, and music hall industries’ necks.

Feitan was especially enamoured by you.

This is explained when one of the Phantom Troupe’s missions required slipping into one of your shows.

Their target was one of your loyal fans, and often watched you from the back seats.

He had a whole bag of valuables stored away in his residence.

What’s great about this mission was that it had a perfect setting, and atmosphere for an assassination.

That was truly something the troupe wanted.

They tiptoed into the operahouse, wearing their polished disguises when your voice reached their ears.

You were singing on an aerial hoop, and you were just dazzling all over on the stage.

Your hair was done beautifully.

Your dress was donned with pink flowers down to the train.

It draped along the slim column of your legs—pooling on the floor elegantly.

Your fingers gently clasped around your microphone, and you sang your most favoured andante.

You usually closed your eyes when you sang because it helped you focus on your inner core, but you wanted to peek at the audience a little.

You wondered what kind of people were your fans.

“What are the things they wear?” You often thought to yourself.

You blinked, noticing the variety of people on the balcony seats.

Your gaze traced towards the faces smeared with stoic looks.

You wondered if these were your fans.

You caught a glimpse of one of the gloomy, snarky looking boys’ shoulders slump in relief, and relaxation.

That particular group on the balcony seats all had a similar style to them.

Dark, and mute colours, gothic aesthetics.

It was all different to your appearance that assaulted everyone’s eyes with your pinks, light fabrics, and sparkling jewels.

You slipped, and you accidentally let out a giggle between the rhythms of your legato.

The audience hushed, and you heard a bunch from the back seats fainting.

It was an honour to hear you laugh.

Meanwhile, the Phantom Troupe had almost forgotten all about their original target.

Their eyes widened.

It was hard to resist this immaculate power that radiated from your throat.

They felt their butts practically glued on the stolen seats.

They wanted to watch, and listen more.

It’s not everyday a lady could soften the nerves in Feitan’s heart.

The warmth, fuzzy feeling was short lived however.

Chrollo turned to look at the other legs with a smug look plastered on his face.

It was clear what the Troupe was after now.

Your voice.

After your show, you curtsied, and smiled into the crowd.

It was another melodic night for your fans.

You slipped into the backrooms then left to go back home.

You sat on your carriage, patting a powder cushion on your nose as you looked into your reflection on the tiny makeup compartment.

The day had proceeded like any other day for you.

You were now dressed in your nightgown, and you combed your hair that was still a bit slick from your rose petal bath.

Then you applied your body lotions that left you smelling like paradise.

You hummed one of your tunes as the candles lit your room into a soft, peaceful atmosphere.

The flame feathered your face while the waning moon kissed your features.

Your damp tresses fell to your shoulders, and then you heard it.

Your parents were discussing your performance, and the deal with your sponsorships.

Your interest was sparked when they mentioned your patronages.

You flicked your gaze to the entrance of your bedroom.

The Phantom Troupe on the other hand was already planning a masterplan to steal your voice.

The music industry’s prized possession.

Feitan watched the other members discuss the plan.

His eyes dilated when your name was mentioned.

So that was your name?

Your name suits your face was what Feitan thought.

He pondered for a moment.

Something about you pulled him in a trance.

It was certainly your voice, and perhaps it was also something else too.

But he couldn’t put his finger to it.

Maybe it was your pretty face.

And that was something rare for Feitan to think about or even admit.

“Her voice could be put into better use than singing away on a stage.” Chrollo adjusted his collar in the dimly lit room.

“Right.” Another member replied.

Feitan blinked.

“When we see her again?”

“She has another show coming next week.” Machi clarified. “I saw on the posters hanging on the walls.”

Feitan hummed, and nodded.

He wondered if you sounded even more beautiful if you were at his mercy, screaming at the top of your lungs.

The adrenaline manifested in his veins, and he felt himself clenching his fists.

His fingernails poked, and probed his skin.

Blood pricked down his palms.

It’s about time he heard an attractive, hoarse screech mincing out of a mouth for once.

Well, it was settled then.

Everyone was looking forward to your next show.

And this time, it was going to be in the biggest music hall in the city.

Your patrons will be watching on the stand lines.

Your face will be on every article, and bulletin.

The whole city was buzzing about your next performance.

And so was the Phantom Troupe, anticipating your grand reveal before they steal your everything away from you.

On the day before your show, you were on your way to the library, alone.

You wanted some to go outside alone.

You felt isolated in that little room of yours while also having to worry about these pressuring voice lessons, and voice warmups.

You made sure you wore your disguise perfectly.

And you also made sure you didn’t talk at all.

Just a few simple nods, and shakes would do it.

Stepping into the library, your lips curled into a soft smile as the bookshelves, and stacks of books hanging around came into view.

You liked reading this particular genre, and you just so happened to see your favourite book’s sequel you haven’t finished reading yet on the top shelves—unfortunately.

You looked around the room for any stepping stool, but there weren’t anywhere.

You hummed, and looked away for a moment when you suddenly heard the sounds of small wheels rolling toward your way.

You turned around, and saw the missing stepping stool (with wheels) you were looking for.

You blinked.

Wow, it was just what you needed.

How surprising.

You wondered how it found you like this.

Feitan was stalking you from the dark corners.

He was quenched.

He was thirsting to hear at least one sigh come from your mouth.

He drastically changed that day when he heard your singing for the first time.

The cracks, and ripples in his heart were unravelling each time you sang a music note.

Gosh, his broken English could possibly even improve if everything sounded like you.

You sat down on a table with your book, and read silently.

The room was empty, but full of books.

Most of the readers preferred the other side of the room.

Feitan’s tongue dragged along the crease of his bottom lip.

He stared down at you before he walked away from the crests of the darkness.

His heart skipped a beat when he caught himself.

He’d get a whooping if he proceeded.

But he just couldn’t control himself whenever you’re near.

He liked your voice.

He was obsessed with it.

The stark contrast between his, and your’s was overwhelming.

He only wanted to hear you in his mind.

He cracked his knuckles.

But again, his thoughts stopped him from continuing.

A part of him confronted him.

He will be able to do everything he wants if he waits for tomorrow.

And so he did.

On the front seats.

Just like Feitan wanted.

He wanted to see you up close as much as he wanted to hear you sing.

Today, you were extravagant as always.

You were the epitome of beauty.

Your voice could say the same.

Feitan doesn’t know much about love, but he firmly believed this obsession for you stemmed from that.

He chuckled under his breath as he watched you sing.

You were singing this high note that scratched the right parts of his brain.

Your hums made him feel warm.

And his blood rushed toward his favourite vein.

One of the legs nudged his shoulder as if to grab his attention.

He was definitely going crazy over you.

It was the rarest sight for the Phantom Troupe.

You were singing a few pieces tonight.

You were still on your first one, wrapping it up with one last note.

You also noticed the same people from before now on the front seats.

You found that kind of funny.

You glanced at the orchestra below you before flicking your gaze back to your audience.

“This next piece is called ‘Romance’. Your guys’ favourite.” She smiled, and then her eyes dipped down to Feitan.

Feitan almost exploded.

His heart was screaming to take you.

He wanted to smear that smile off your face.

He was getting too eager to feel, and touch you now.

Just what was this?

Then he felt a harsh pinch on his thigh coming from Shalnark.

He shook his head, and felt the stars warping around his head vanish.

You were like a siren, and Feitan was about to fall for your tricks.

Machi handed Feitan a pair of earplugs, and subtly pointed at the backrooms to join the rest to start the mission.

Feitan was a bit hesitant at first.

He was tempted to listen to you again, but if he did, he would probably lose himself.

…

He reluctantly took the earplugs, and disappeared to the backrooms.

So this is what the backstage looked like.

The other members had already knocked out the recruiters too it seemed.

Feitan stared at your back from the side.

Your gown had a V cut on your back that revealed most of your nape, and down.

Feitan breathed in your lingering fragrance wafting throughout the whole room.

Your perfume was pleasurable.

You were too oblivious, and naïve to feel the weight of Feitan’s stare.

Then the lights suddenly went off.

You blinked at the sudden change of events.

The whole orchestra halted, and you looked behind toward the backstage, wondering what had happened.

The audience shifted, and murmured amongst themselves.

“Oh, I’m so sorry guys,” you called out, trying to calm the whole situation with just a few words.

But it seemed the screams that erupted from the balcony seats had torn the rest of the audience’s attention away from you.

You yelped, and you found yourself abducted, and taken away into the rough hands of Feitan.

He called dibs to take you away.

No matter how much you struggled, you only received a crackling slap as your punishment.

The consequences were severe.

You yelped, and you were now shoved into a tight space.

You caught a glimpse of your kidnapper’s appearance before he closed the trapdoor.

You took note that his face was mostly covered with a scarf.

He had felt your throat, and lips all over.

You shifted, and squirmed in this dark, tight place.

You couldn’t scream for help because of the gag inserted in your mouth, and your whole body was bound in those merciless ropes.

It felt like they were made out of steel.

You cried, sulking away in that box of isolation.

You soon woke up in another dark room.

A pair of lips were pecking your throat.

Hands painfully gripped your waist, it bruised.

“Goodness, when are you done? You can’t hog all of her.” A voice called out.

Your eyes were all blurry from your tears.

They were half opened, and you tried looking down to see who this was with their hands all over you.

You wanted to sob, but you couldn’t.

You were exhausted, and sore everywhere.

“She’s mine.” The man who peppered your throat with kisses growled back to the other voice.

This is what fame leads to, huh?

You began to break out into tears all over again.

The members were hushed, watching you.

But this only encouraged Feitan.

“You waked.” He whispered in his hoarse tone.

He pulled away to look at you.

And for a moment, both your eyes met.

You opened your mouth, but no words came out.

Your voice was gone.

This made the man before you smirk smugly.

It quickly turned into a grin, and it progressed to an evil laugh.

He cackled, and sent a fist flying to your cheek.

You squeaked, coughed, and cried.

You tried rubbing your cheek that was now red in pain, but again, you were bound.

You struggled, sulking away as the many pairs of eyes watched you intently.

How did this happen?

You couldn’t speak at all.

Your voice was gone—your nen was stolen.

You were born mute after all.

“She still makes noises though.”

Feitan hummed, now rubbing your nape.

He nipped your throat, and groaned at the taste of your skin.

It was as pleasurable as hearing you sing songs.

Your groupie is a maniac.