#'ten favorite ____ from ten separate ____'

[thisbrilliantsky]

saw these going around and i wanted to try it so here u go! i chose strictly from books only, tho if any of yall want to do it don't feel constrained! i had to or i'd never narrow it down to 10 :|

[lock-my-feelings-in-a-jar]

thank you @memorial-sewer !!!

rules: list your ten favorite characters from ten separate fandoms then tag ten people!

okay so i don't really have favorite characters of things. at least none that come to mind, which, i feel like if they were that much of a favorite, they would probably be in mind. i don't watch shows or movies much, or read or anything else. i like some games but not usually for the characters.

i can, however, make a list of favorite musicians because they're all i ever think about. so i'm gonna do that instead.

so let me just change this:

rules: list your ten favorite musicians from ten separate bands then tag ten people!

there we go, that feels like something i can do. unless i run out of musicians that i consider favorites for whatever reason(which i'm very picky about so there's not that many)

okayyy, in no particular order (except for russ at 1 because he is the light of my life)

russ ballard

pete ham

bruce dickinson

brian connolly

malcolm allured

annnd i think. i think 5 is all i got.

i tag EVERYONE (do your characters or musicians or anything else if you want)

[luvsupa]

a/n two posts in one day… ruh roh… (I miss gojo </3)

ex!satoru who doesn’t really understand the concept of being an ex. he just thinks you want a break from him. but permanently separated? hell no, he could never understand that.

“‘toru… things aren’t gonna work out between us,” you begin as he sits in front of you at your dinner table in your shared apartment. he looks at you with no emotion, as if you didn’t just end things. “we’re growing in separate ways, and i feel i would only—satoru.”

you could scream at him—he’s not paying attention, scrolling on his phone instead. he shows you the order he placed for dinner, coming in twenty minutes. of course, he bought your favorite.

“satoru, can you please be serious for one minute?” you huff, clearly annoyed that he’s not listening while he’s purchasing things he knows will make you swoon.

“i am serious,” he says, placing his phone down to observe your breathtaking features.

“you weren’t even listening,” you say, crossing your arms as you slouch in the seat.

“baby, of course i’m listening—you’re crazy if you think i’m leaving you,” he coos condescendingly, and you roll your eyes.

ex!satoru who, in fact, respected your decision and gave you your personal space, not exactly broken up in his eyes, just a temporary break.

ex!satoru who stays over at suguru’s place for a few months, whining every day and night about how he missed being in your arms.

“i miss her,” gojo says as he pets geto’s cat, miyu, while geto himself groans as he cleans his apartment.

“can you at least help out and stop whining like a bitch,” geto says, adjusting the pillows neatly on his couch. this only causes gojo to frown and embrace miyu in a tight hug, nuzzling his face in her soft fur as she tries to get away from his grasp.

“and let go of miyu, she doesn’t want you holding her.”

ex!satoru who continues to send you money, always sending you hundreds and hundreds of dollars for food, shopping, and especially paying for your necessities. he doesn’t care that you work for yourself—you’re still his baby, and he loves spoiling you. his money is your money.

unknown number sent $500! —go get some food, baby~ ♡

unknown number sent $600! —please unblock me on insta

unknown number sent $300! —i love u, mama

ex!satoru who chokes on his breakfast when shoko says you’re going on a date. gojo, never in his life, was speechless, and that really creeped out shoko and geto.

“satoru… are you good?” geto asks concernedly—even miyu jumps on gojo’s lap, sensing a difference in his character.

“yeah, i’m good…” he says calmly, placing down his utensils to pet miyu’s soft fur.

ex!satoru who does a little investigating of who this mysterious man is, finding his identity within ten minutes. he scoffs when he finds his social media—he’s nowhere near as handsome as he is. what do you see in him?

ex!satoru who sits comfortably in the luxurious restaurant where you and the mysterious man planned to go. little did you know, gojo texted the man, telling him that you’re married.

“aiko?” gojo hears a soft voice call as he turns to look at you. your eyes widen when you see gojo. this has to be some kind of joke—he is fucking crazy. you turn around, going back to the entrance, but gojo grabs your wrist.

“no, no, no, baby, please let me talk,” he pleads, and you fold from the way he calls you baby. oh, how you loved and missed the way he called you baby and claimed you as his own.

he guides you to the chair in front of him as he holds your hand, your pretty acrylics grazing his hands. he loved the way you looked well put together, his baby doll.

“my love, i promise to leave you,” he says, rubbing small circles on your hand. your heart pangs at his confession. “i just want to know how you’re doing.”

“i-i miss you so much,” you say. gojo feels like he’s hallucinating at what you just said. “shoko told me you were having a date today, and i felt so jealous—” you stammer, and gojo blinks multiple times, stunned at what you’re saying.

“this guy aiko asked me on a date, and i wanted to make you jealous,” you continue, frowning at being confused with your emotions. but gojo, on the other hand, is putting two and two together.

“give me your phone,” he sternly says. you stare at him in confusion, but you oblige, taking out your phone from your purse and handing it to him. gojo smiles as your lockscreen is still a baby photo of him. he unlocks your phone—the password still the same, his birthday.

“i was meaning to change the lockscreen,” you quickly state, not trying to look like a weirdo in front of him.

gojo goes into your contacts and clicks aiko’s contact information, calling the number. multiple rings go by, and the man on the other line picks up.

“hello—”

“shoko, i know this is you.”

you look at him and your phone in horror. shoko set you guys up by making a fake number to make you go on a date with ‘aiko’ but really you’d be with gojo.

“ahh, did my plan work? both of you kept whining about each other—it was infuriating. i had to do something,” she says on the other line, gojo clearly hearing geto’s giggles in the background.

“don’t ever do this again,” gojo says as he hangs up the phone. the two of you burst out in laughter, but for you, it’s more embarrassing that you were flirting with shoko through texts!

fiancé!satoru who proposed to you a few weeks later, he’s beyond happy to be in the arms of his baby again <3

[ghoulphile]

janey's dad | c.h./the ghoul | part 01

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 3.7k ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; age gap, hair pulling, teasing, making out, mutual pining, lipstick kink, stockings, frottage, porn w/ feelings, porn w/ plot, mild angst w/ happy ending, divorced!coop, babysitter!reader, pre-war/bomb ➥ summary | “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --” ➥ notes | i'm so sorry this is later than it should be. i am unfortunately a corporate slave and this fic just did not want to cooperate 🫠 there are a lot more things planned and this fic is turning into a bit of a beast (20+ pages and counting rip lmao) so i've decided to split it into two parts to make it more manageable for myself mostly un-beta'd atm a special thanks to @corinthianism for all her lovely help ❤️!!

feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | masterlist

Divorce is hard, but being a divorcé is downright hellish.

One of the ugliest things in the world, if Cooper Howard has any say. At least when he was a Marine, they told him where to point his gun, where to aim; nameless threats vanishing with a quick squeeze of the trigger.

Here, these ‘enemies’ aren’t enemies — not really.

It’d be easier if they were.

Worse still, they have names he holds as dearly as his own. There’s Barb, whip smart and always so clever. Then Janey, the light of his life and so sweet his teeth ache.

Once upon a time, life was sweeter than apple pie on Sundays.

Then came the separation.

Afterwards, he finds it hard to look at what’s left of his family without losing breath like a horse kick to the chest. Their absence rips open a hole inside him ten miles wide, its edges jagged and wrong.

And when he can’t take the silence anymore, fingers of malt liquor help dull the ache, though it’ll never be enough to mend what’s broken.

See, war’s something he understands.

But these domestic battlefields where he sits across from his ex-wife while lawyers barter this weekend and that holiday?

How he struggles to meet his daughter’s eye every time she asks if he’s coming home?

When Barb keeps the house and the money while he keeps the scrapbooks and the dog?

He doesn’t — can't — refuses to comprehend.

Because in what world can you reconcile looking down the barrel of a smoking gun only to find the woman you love staring back, finger on the trigger? Left out to hang as Vault-Tec orchestrates his downfall.

The true depth of their involvement is unknown, but it’s no coincidence his bank accounts dried up faster than the Mojave in June. The ink still wet when the media snapped up the story of his failed marriage.

Thus, his reputation (rather what’s left of it) unraveled faster than a spool of thread.

Knocked on his ass and kept there by a boot heel crushing his windpipe. Whose? He hasn’t got a fucking clue.

But whoever they are, they’re making sure he stays a washed up nobody who struggles to land a call back, much less pay his monthly alimony on time.

See what we can do? You were America’s favorite gunslinger - now look at you. Mind your place.

Hell, millions used to scream his name.

Nowadays people whisper it behind their hands like a dirty secret, “Oh, did you hear? Cooper Howard…” as they dissect pieces of his life into bite-sized Before’s and After’s. “Hah! Serves him right. Y’know, I never liked him much.”

While he grits his teeth and swallows his bitterness with a smile, he hates how he can’t protect Janey from snide reporters and nosy strangers. Juggling actor-father-divorcé with fumbling hands.

It’s only been six months; a heartbeat, a lifetime, and already he’s scraped thin like butter over too much bread.

Something’s gotta give.

After all, he’s only one man.

But just when it's bleakest, the clouds part.

A young woman moves in next door, the first bright thing that’s come his way in a long, long while.

At first, he kept his distance.

Exchanged vague hello’s and how-are-you’s. Then Janey took a shine; always so friendly and eager to talk about her latest books.

Any reservations he might’ve had died when he saw how enamored you are with her.

Only made sense that over time small pleasantries turned into playdates. Then those playdates turned into sleepovers.

Before long, you’re watching her when a gig runs late.

Rustling up grub and tucking her into bed more often than not these days. And when he slinks in through the door, knees aching and stripped to the bone, there you are with a shy smile and a warm meal.

So what if he takes himself in hand after you leave, stroking his cock to the thought of you down on your knees in that pretty little sundress?

Imagines the wide stretch of your ruby lips as you swallow him down, lipstick smeared an awful mess?

Cums hard to the fantasy of your teary eyes and hiccupy breaths as you choke?

What you don’t know can’t hurt you.

After all, he’s a gentleman... he promises to keep his hands to himself.

“All right, Sugar Bomb, it’s bedtime.”

Bundled in navy bedding up to her nose, Janey’s wide brown eyes peer up at you from beneath a riot of frizzy curls. Roosevelt, her ever faithful companion, plasters himself to her side. The tip of his tail swishes once, twice before falling limp.

“Ah, c’mon guys. Don’t look at me like that.” You sigh with a fond shake of the head, hip popping out to rest against the doorframe. “I don’t make the rules, I just follow ‘em.”

A muffled response sounds from the lump of little girl, “Nmfhm.”

Squinting, you dip your head and tap the side of your ear, "Pardon?"

“Mnhfmmmm.”

“Ye—eah… Didn’t catch that, Mumbler.”

Janey tugs down the blanket, her mouth pursed in a moue of displeasure. “I said,” she crosses her arms with a huff, “not until Dad gets home.”

Shit.

“M’sorry, baby. He’s still gonna be a while.” Walking across the room, you stop beside the bed and motion your hand back and forth. “Scooch over.”

Gangly limbs fumble as Janey wiggles into the middle of the mattress, her feet tangling in the blankets. Roosevelt takes a toe to the nose during the transition, but flops across her knees all the same.

Together they settle with a bounce of springs.

In the open space, you slide in.

The bed sinks under your weight, a plume of rich cologne tickling your nose; mint-spiced citrus. Cooper. Your stomach swoops, and your heart trips.

“I didn’t see him at breakfast — or lunch!” A pout tugs at her mouth. “Not even dinner. I gotta go home tomorrow. So when am I gonna see him?”

“Oh, bug.” You sigh, propping yourself up on your elbow. “Your dad’s been real busy at work. And I know that’s been hard for you, but I promise to make sure he’s here for breakfast tomorrow.”

“D’you mean it?” Her cold nose digs into your skin. “Me and Roosevelt miss him so much.”

Cuddled into your chest, Janey tosses an arm around your back. Her fuzzy head rests in the crook of your arm, springy curls tickling your skin.

You squeeze her tight and trace your fingertips over her forehead.

“I can do you one better,” you say, bopping the tip of her nose just to hear her giggle - a soft sound that sits warm and gooey in your chest. “I pinkie-promise.”

Her finger loops around yours, so small and fragile.

“I’ll even make pancakes. How’s that sound for a promise?”

“Oh, yes, please! I think Dad will like that,” a wide yawn cuts her off mid-sentence. “He’s sad, but he always smiles when you make food.”

Janey’s words — unexpected as they are sudden — cut so deep it steals the breath from your lungs. You flounder, your heart a throbbing bruise in your chest.

“... Then pancakes it is.”

As if nothing happened at all, she asks, “Do I have to go to bed now?”

“Afraid so, little miss.” Your responding chuckle sounds stilted even to your own ears. “Just you wait. When you wake up, Dad’ll be home.”

“Fi—ine, but I want extra pancakes.” Janey pauses, considers you with narrow eyes, then adds, “With syrup!”

“Whatever you want,” you say with an indulgent smile. “Now... time to sleep. It’s really past your bedtime.”

She gives you one last squeeze then lets you tuck her in nice and tight, blankets pulled up to her chin. You drop a kiss on her forehead while Roosevelt re-settles on the pillow beside her after a quick scratch behind the ears. 

Everything in order, you turn to go only for a little hand to stop you.

“Yes?” you reply, glancing at her from over your shoulder.

“... can you put on one of Dad's movies?”

The tremble in her voice - like she’s about to get scolded - breaks your heart clean down the middle. Stitching on a soft smile, you nod and walk to the darkened TV set in the room's corner.

After fiddling with the nobs, static flashes to life.

“The Man from Deadhorse okay?”

The holotape sliding into the track swallows the sound of her tiny “Yeah.” Starting up with a whirl of machinery, the second-hand Radiation King flickers to life in black-and-white.

A vast plain and bright sky stretches across the screen.

Then Sugarfoot creeps into frame with the one and only Cooper Howard sitting astride the noble steed. The sheriff’s badge on his chest glints in the sun.

“Thank you,” she mumbles, already half-way to sleep.

“Anything for you, baby. Sleep tight.”

Flicking off the lights, you leave the door cracked. Walk away pretending like hearing her whisper goodnight to the TV doesn’t lance through you like lightning.

The desire to whisk her into your arms and soothe all of her ails is almost impossible to ignore.

Somehow, you distract yourself by wiping up the table, then by fixing a plate of dinner for whenever Cooper rolls in. Though all the while, how brokenhearted Janey sounded sits in the back of your mind like a leaden weight.

When Cooper stumbles into the living room, it’s half past midnight.

You’d gotten up to greet him, curled as you were in an armchair reading, when something about the stern line of his mouth gave you pause.

Where the usual lighthearted greetings lingered, a pensive stillness trembled to life.

Tension crackles through the air; a held breath of agitation. By the faraway gaze and defeated slump of his broad shoulders, it’s plain to see the night didn’t go as intended. And no matter how much you long to soothe, you can’t.

After all, he’s not yours to touch.

Instead, you offer a sympathetic smile and ask, “Rough night, huh?”

Cooper ignores the prompt, squeezing past with a brief touch to your elbow as he makes a beeline for the dry bar. The heat of his body is there and gone in a flash, his cologne teasing your senses. He says, “Thought you’d be asleep by now.”

Your heart flutters in your throat. “Ah,” you lick your lips, “well, I was going to finish my chapter first.”

Humming, he turns his back to you and fiddles with high balls and decanters. The tink of crystal glassware fills the air as he speculates which alcohol goes best with his mood. 

“Thanks again for watching Janey.” He nods in approval and fixes his whiskey neat. “I don’t know what we’d do without you.”

“Oh, it’s no trouble, Mr. Howard.” You shrug. “She’s a sweetheart.”

He shoots you a dry look from over his shoulder, stirring the dark amber of his drink with a forefinger. When he sucks his skin clean with a soft pop - a flash of a pink tongue taunting, teasing - your stomach swoops.

God, I wonder what else his mouth can do.

Flustered, you clear your throat and stare at a spot on the wall.

“How many times do I gotta tell you to call me Coop?” he says, digging through some drawers until he finds what he’s searching for: a lighter. “It must be a million and one by now.”

Flint sparks as flames jump, eating away at the end of a cigarette. Cooper inhales in short little puffs, pulling on the filter. His cheeks hollow, the shadows enhancing the cut of his jaw before the tip catches alight.

“Well,” he exhales, his gaze catching yours through a plume of smoke as he turns, brow raised. “Anything to say for yourself?”

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” you chuckle.

The corner of his mouth lifts in a lopsided smirk. “I’ll drink to that.” He knocks back the last finger of whiskey before refilling with gin.

Springs groan in protest when he drops to the couch, settling in with an outstretched arm and wide spread thighs.

“It’s been a long fucking day,” he rasps.

Gulping, you try to ignore the space at his feet.

The stirrings of desire provoked by the urge to sink to your knees and fill it with your body, to ease tension from those shoulders with your hands, your mouth, your cunt — if he’d let you.

“You heading home?” Nursing the fresh drink, he swallows a mouthful, only to hiss low through his teeth at the chemical burn. His throat bobs, framed by the open collar of his shirt. “Whew! Goddamn, that’s strong.”

“No, I can stay for a while.” A bird on a wire, you perch on the cushion beside him. “Got nothing else planned for tonight, anyhow.”

Cooper snorts. “I doubt that very much. A sweet young thing like you,” he motions towards you with his glass, “I’m sure you’ve got plenty of fellas calling, especially on a Friday night. Don’t waste your time with me.”

“That’s not why I--” you stop yourself short.

Save for the bustling LA avenue right outside the complex, the apartment itself is stone silent for several heartbeats. Words hover on the back of your tongue, catching in the bend of your throat molasses thick.

Meanwhile, Cooper continues to swirl the alcohol in his glass.

Maybe in a different life, you wouldn’t hesitate to express yourself.

But here — with him — you shouldn’t.

Christ sake, he’s a grieving divorcé, you chastise yourself. The last thing he needs is me trying to lay one on him.

When you speak, his name glides off your lips for the first time, clementine sweet, “... Cooper, I’m not wasting my time. I enjoy spending it with Janey - and you.”

“Well,” he husks, hooded eyes dragging down your visage in a slow once-over, “you’re the first one in a long while to feel that way, sweetheart.”

Dripping like honey whiskey from Cooper’s lips, the simple phrase burns its way down-down-down until it blooms like liquid fire in your belly. Warms you all the way to your toes as your heart pounds against your ribcage.

“I mean it.” Your knuckles twist in the pleats of your sundress, bolts of blue fabric bunched around your knees. “Everything I do is because I want to.”

The flash of red nails plucking at the sheer nylon of your stockings snaps up his attention, his gaze snagging - staying as he chases the curve of your exposed leg, hungry.

He wets his lips, and tenses his jaw when he spots how the soft fat of your thigh dimples in because of your garter. “That’s awful sweet of you to say.”

You tremble beneath the intensity of his attention.

Greedy.

Little kisses of awareness spark bright along the path his eyes carve like the caress of shy fingertips.

However, before you’re able to confront him about his interest, the heat leaches from his expression, grows mute and cold like a muzzled dog. 

Readjusting the waistband of his slacks with a tug, he says, “I know you got better things to do than keep an old man company.”

Irritation sparks. “Cooper--”

“If this is about paying you for tonight,” his lips quirk into a sheepish smile, “I won’t be able to yet.” He scrubs a hand through the stubble peppered along his jaw. “The gig tonight didn’t… Well, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, that’s not what I --”

He plows on, “Anyway, the one I’ve got tomorrow should be enough. How about I stop by around seven o’clock? I’ll treat you to dinner as an apology.”

Frustration bubbles beneath the surface of your skin, antagonism thrumming through your veins. Your hands shake almost as much as your voice. “Cooper!”

“I… uh, yes?” He blinks.

Your brows furrow. “You don’t get it,” you say. “I mean, you truly don’t know?”

“I’m afraid there’s a lot I don’t get. You’re gonna have to be more particular.”

Maybe not said in so many words (or at all) but actions speak far louder.

Otherwise, why else would you spend most of your time in his apartment, fill every spare moment with Janey, and reserve evenings for his company?

Hell, you even cook and clean!

Almost scream your interest from the rooftops, and it’s obvious to everyone but him, it seems.

Here you are thinking he was preserving your dignity whenever he ignored a passing comment or lingering touch when, in fact, he’d been oblivious to their existence to begin with.

How a man can be so obtuse when you’re throwing yourself at him is beyond you.

If he wasn’t so captivating…

“Are you kidding me,” you ask, mindful of your tone, “how could you not know?” You throw your hands in the air. “I’ve been — for months!”

“Well, I don’t have a goddamn clue what you’re talking about, sweetheart,” he snarks, setting his glass on the table. “Care to enlighten me?”

Fine. If that’s how he wants to play, let’s play.

When he moves to take another drag from his cigarette, you strike, fingers locking around his wrist mid-lift. And although his glassy eyes narrow, he keeps his hand still.

Waiting to see what you'll do.

Tucking your knee under you for balance, you bend forward and watch his face from beneath your lashes. When your lips wrap around the filter, a dark hunger bleeds into his expression, his pulse a steady thud against the pad of your thumb.

Inhaling, the cherry lights up, a flashbang in the dim overhead light.

Cooper’s breath hitches, and then you’re pulling away with a lungful of smoke; the taste of ash heavy on your tongue.

He tracks your movements with greed, gaze flicking for the briefest of moments past your chin before refocusing on the ring of red lipstick staining white paper.

“If you wanted one,” he chokes, gripping the back of the couch with white knuckles, “all you had to do was ask.”

With a coquettish grin, you exhale to the side and stare at him with hooded eyes. “Is that so?” Plucking the cigarette out of his limp hold, you stub it out in the ashtray. “What if I wanted to ask for something else, Mr. Howard?”

The next moment finds you deposited in his lap, his hands shooting out to grab at your waist only to freeze before they make contact.

“Woah! I--”

“Tell me something.”

Your lips caress the shell of his ear, sharing breath - sharing space as you plaster yourself to his front, arms looped over his shoulders. He jolts, body trembling with restraint.

“Would you give me what I wanted if I said please?”

The distance between you snaps taut with anticipation. “C-Coop,” he stutters. “Call me Coop.”

You hum. “Well, Coop, would you?”

“That depends almost entirely on what you’re asking for, sweetheart.”

Red nails skate along the back of his neck, play in the downy soft hair of his nape just to feel him shiver. And then you’re leaning back with your hands braced on his knees, your legs falling open in invitation.

The hem of your dress bunches around your waist, exposing the soft cotton of your underwear, and the darkened patch of slick soaking through.

“I think you know exactly what I want,” you purr. “Because you want it too. Don’t you?”

He bites down on a strangled moan when your hips arch forward, rocking the soft plush of your ass against the heavy weight of his thickening cock. The zipper digs into your skin as he tents the front of his slacks.

Mouth dropping open, his tongue flicks out to wet his lips - a slick circle of temptation that makes you clench. “I, uh, I don’t…”

Reaching between your splayed thighs, you hook a finger beneath your panties and pull the fabric aside. He jerks forward, exhaling hard at the flash of your soaked cunt and twitching clit.

“C’mon, be honest.”

With a sigh, you gather your arousal on the tips of your fingers.

Cooper’s gaze is a heavy weight pinning you in place as you pretend it’s him dragging his knuckles over the top of your mond. Him dragging calloused fingers up along sticky folds to play with your sensitive clit, ripping soft little mewls from your lips.

“Can’t you see what you do to me, Coop?” you say, pulling your hand away to show the webs of slick stretching between your fingers. “I’m so wet. Please, I’ve wanted you for so long…”

His hips rock against your ass in an aborted thrust. “Shit - shit!” Eyes slamming shut, he grits his teeth and digs his fingers into your sides hard enough to bruise. “We really, uh, shouldn’t - oh fuck, you look --”

“Why not?” Your hand brushes over his groin. “I can feel how hard you are.”

“It isn’t right, that’s why.” He stutters, stumbles over his words, “Besides, Janey…”

“I can be quiet,” you say, lips trembling. “I promise.”

“Goddamnit, you can’t say things like that and expect me not to --” Cutting himself off, strong fingers seize your chin and tilt until you’re met with Cooper’s severe expression, his scorching gaze. “You need to tell me now: are you sure this is what you want?”

There’s no hesitation, “Yes.”

In what world would you refuse?

The words barely pass your lips before Cooper’s bowing his dark head, mouth ravenous as it captures yours in a slick glide of bruising lips and hungry tongues.

He steals your breath, licks into your mouth and traces along the sensitive inside of your lip.

Pulse jump starting, your toes curl over the edge of the cushion and your thighs squeeze the barrel of his chest, kneecaps digging into his ribs.

“Oh,” a moan punches itself out of your throat - a breathy little thing swallowed up by his lips. “That’s--”

Anticipation swells, simmers between you like a band before it snaps. A strong forearm locks around your waist, tugging you into the cradle of his chest until you’re plastered from stem to stern.

Too hungry for tenderness as his free hand slips up to cup the back of your head, fingers catching in the briar of your hair and tugging at the roots.

You claw at his shoulders while sparks of pain ricochet down your neck, sufficing into a prickly flush that heats your blood. “Hnn, Cooper,” you gasp.

He murmurs your name through languid flicks of his tongue and sharp little nips of skin that leave your mouth tender and swollen. When he pulls away to survey his handiwork, his eyes are dark. Fathomless.

"I never thought I'd get the chance to kiss you like this," he says, wicking his thumb over the pillow of your bottom lip. "You taste as good as I imagined."

Dragging your nails across his scalp, you plead, “No more teasing - I can't take it.”

"Well," he grunts, fingers twisting up in your dress, “If that’s how you feel, then you better put those hips to good use and work for it, sweetheart."

part 2 dropping soon

[tibialtybalt]

Actually let's make a separate post for this one. Look at this piece of official rain world art.

It's sick af it might be my favorite rw piece. So I'm gonna ramble about technical art stuff that it does that I think is neat.

First let's look at the layout. It's got a very distinct foreground middle ground background layering that you can break down like this

With these layers you can put a lot of Stuff in the background without any of the important parts getting lost. If you look at any small section of the piece you'll see Ten Billion wires, plants, metal sticking out, shadows, anything and everything. But since it's all grouped together on the same layer, it sorta fades into the background as Background and you don't lose the main shapes.

The scant use of purple/pink is also very neat. The purple is eye catching. The artist wants you to look at the purple stuff. But some of it isn't important at all, like the curling plants - they aren't supposed to be looked at directly, exactly, but they still lead the eyes around where they're wanted.

Your eye goes from the pink lizard at the top to the dragonslayer symbol to the slugcat, where it lingers for a moment, framed by the purple plants, then you eventually follow the plants and the pole up, the chain left, back to the lizard. The path your eye is supposed to follow is highlighted for you.

Okay last thing I want to talk about. The thing the tags at the beginning of the post actually mention. The secondary light source.

It's pink yeah like I was saying about eye movement. But also. It defines the slugcat. Look at this edited version without the pink light.

The tail gets lost. The foot gets lost. The slugcat becomes part of the scenery instead of the focus. The intended focus is so much more boring to look at then the little lizard.

So yeah I'm obsessed with rain world art I'm obsessed with this piece in particular. Study it and break it down ok <3

[remi-thirsts]

𝐂𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐂𝐓 !

pairing: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, and toji x fem!reader (separate) summary: when you catch them with a suggestive piece of clothing from your wardrobe... content: kinda suggestive, established relationships, toji has no shame at all, allusions to sexual themes, jerking off, pillow humping(?), roommates to lovers (for geto's) pet names, cursing. lmk if I missed anything. wc: 2.5k

♡ 𝐒. 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎

The house was awfully quiet when you arrived home with your shopping bags in hand. "Satoru?" You call out setting all of your stuff down. Nothing. No over dramatic gasps, no 'babyyyyyy you're back!!!!!!" Absolutely nothing.

Satoru hadn't told you he was going anywhere, had he? Sometimes the man talks so much that you drown out his voice, so you can focus on whatever you need to get done. Which means you could have missed something.

Or maybe he's asleep? Only, Satoru doesn't nap if it isn't with you. So... where could he be?

Before going deeper into your home, you remove your shoes and place them neatly on the wobbly shoe rack he built. He insisted he could build anything, when he'd never even picked up a screwdriver in his life. That's kind of what happens when you belong to a wealthy family, but you didn't want to hurt his pride, so you let him build it.

You tread quietly toward your bedroom in hopes of finding him there. The door is cracked open suspiciously, with caution you slowly push the door open, "Satoru are you- uhhh what are you doing?"

The man in question tenses up when he hears your voice. As if you hadn't seen him he hides your lace panties behind his back.

"I was uh," He does that little coughing thing to make him look less suspicious, but if anything it makes him even more suspicious .

"You were 'uh' what?" Satoru thinks you look like a mother scolding a child the way you stand with your hands on your hips.

"I- I was hah- are you really gonna make me say it, baby?" He looks so red, cute.

"Yeah, go ahead and tell me what you were doing snooping through my underwear drawer." He sighs, but it's soon replaced with a sneaky smile.

"Ineedednewjerkmaterial." He says all jumbled up and quietly.

"Speak up, 'Toru." A whine leaves his lips. What a little baby he is.

"I needed something to help me when I think about you while jerking off." He spoke clearly this time, so you stop teasing him.

"Well you can't use those ones, 'cuz those are my favorites. Let me find you a different pair." He's in shock the whole time while watching you dig through the dresser.

"Really? You're just gonna give me a pair?"

"Why not? All you had to do was ask. I'm sure you'll buy me more anyway, knowing you." He snorts at that. It's true, Satoru likes to buy you anything and everything, sexy underwear is no exception.

♡ 𝐒. 𝐆𝐄𝐓𝐎

You've noticed that some of your favorite bras have gone missing since you asked your roommate, Geto, to do your laundry when you get too busy. It was a little suspicious when he seemed more than happy to do your laundry, but who were you to think anything of it when he was making one less chore for you?

Sweet, little, and innocent you, didn't suspect that Geto could be the one stealing your bras, though. He's too much of a gentleman, you think. He always opens doors for you, lets you use the bathroom before he does, and when you aren't up to make something, he'll cook you dinner.

He's a picture perfect roommate so there's no way he could be the one. You'll still ask him his opinion on the matter though, because your bras are not cheap, and if they keep going missing you'll have to buy more.

It's Wednesday, which is the day Geto usually washes your laundry for you. There is a very important job interview you have to leave for in ten minutes so you rush to get your hamper to him.

"Suguru- I um I need your help with something." Geto cannot help but stare you down. You're dressed in a black blazer with a white dress shirt underneath, and a pencil skirt that should reach around to your knees, but because you had bend down earlier to pick something up, the skirt hiked up just a little bit.

"What's up, princess?" The first time he had called you 'princess' you just about had a meltdown. He told you not to think too much of it, it was just a nickname.

The smell of his lotion fills your nostrils and his hair is still wet from his shower. There's also no shirt covering his perfectly built body.

"Well.. uh. Some of my bras are going missing. Can you keep an eye out to make sure there's no pervert at the laundromat stealing my bras?" A chuckle almost leaves his throat. You are too cute for him, of course you wouldn't blame him for the disappearance of your bras.

"Of course, I'll keep watch." Since you are running short on time you give him a tight lipped smile and quickly make a run out of your apartment.

"Cute." Slips from his lips, although no one hears it.

-------

There's hope. The interview had seemed to go great, the woman interviewing you said she'd give you a call letting you know if you got the job or not.

To celebrate the potential job, you bought yourself a pint of ice cream on the way home.

When you unlocked the door you didn't even announce yourself, assuming he might have been out or napping.

Before going to your room, you grab a spoon from the kitchen in order to eat the deliciously sweet treat you bought for yourself.

Your room was at the end of the hallway so you would have to pass Geto's room to get to yours. As you walk past his room, you almost drop your spoon in shock when you hear your supposed goody two shoes roommate moan out your name.

A series of grunts and 'fucks' leave his lips after the sudden call of your name. Curiosity killed the cat, huh? Well you don't care enough to let that stop you. It's rude not to knock but when Geto's calling out your name like that you think you have plenty of reason to barge in.

"Suguru what are you-" You should have just went to your room. The sight you walked in on had you dropping your ice cream and spoon on the floor. Geto is not as innocent as you thought he was, not when he's got your favorite laced bra attached to his pillow while he fucks it like they're your tits.

You would think he'd have the decency to stop when you caught him, but you catching him only made him speed up, his hips snapping at an extraordinary pace.

"Fuck, princess. Didn't want you to find out like this. Shit- need your tits so bad." He cums with no shame over the part of the pillow that would be the crevice of your breasts.

You can't even be mad at him, it's hot, but you'll still give him a peace of your mind.

"Suguru! That's- that's my bra! And you- gosh you are so perverted!!!! I never would have thought-" It takes him a minute, but when he comes down from his high, he apologizes sincerely for taking your bras.

And now that you know he wants you just as much as you want him, you indulge in his fantasies of fucking your pretty tits.

♡ 𝐊. 𝐍𝐀𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐈

He was going on a business trip for a few weeks and took a pair or two with him so he wouldn't have to bother you.

It doesn't even register that any are missing either, because he picks the pairs that you don't care too much about. They don't have to be sexy, Nanami loves anything you wear.

The only reason he does get caught is because he allows it to happen.

It's the second week, day two of his business trip and he decided to have a drink with his coworker, which he never does, but he misses you and a drink would help, even if only for a little while.

Nanami's toleration is high, so one drink turns into seven and he starts to feel the effects around the 8th one, which his coworker cuts him off after that.

"Dude, that's a lot, even for you." He says to Nanami, which he has to agree with, but his drunk mind doesn't want to.

"'s not nearly the 'mount I drink when 'm at home." His coworker chuckles and pays his tab along with Nanami's. (nanami will pay him back in the morning when he's in his right mind)

Said coworker drops him off at his hotel room and makes sure he gets in okay, he also reminds him to, "Call your wife, she might get worried if she doesn't hear from you."

He will. He'll call you as soon as this boner goes away... just thinking about you along with the alcohol in his body has him hard.

He stumbles through his suit case looking for the panties he'd packed in there. A smile graces his face when he finds them, they aren't cute, at all by any means.

He chose them not because they're sexy but because they're just normal, meaning you wear them a lot more often.

His steps are heavy as he about marches to the bed he's been sleeping in for the past two weeks. His conscious starts screaming at him not to jerk off with your panties but in the end, his dick wins.

-------

It's about 11:43 pm when you receive a face time call from your husband. He called you earlier, telling you about his day, so you find it a little unusual for him to be calling at this hour.

When you slide the accept button, you're met with your husband's dick and your panties covering his tip. For a second your eyes widen trying to register what exactly is going on, once you do, arousal pools in your gut.

"What's this honey?" He strokes his dick faster when he hears your voice.

"Keep talking, pretty." He's completely gone, you notice. His cheeks flushed a pretty pink and his eyes rolled back.

"I see you have my panties, what's that about?" A low groan leaves his throat but it's cut off by his words.

"Knew I would miss you. Packed them in my suitcase." The chances of him remembering any of this in the morning was low. Nanami usually has a hard time remembering anything from when he was drunk.

So, being the tease you are, you take a screenshot of him in this state.

"Fuck fuck fuck, gonna cum, please keep talking, Honey." You do as he wishes, saying random little things to help him reach his orgasm. It happens so fast and he's got you rubbing yourself through your shorts.

"You still with me baby?" You ask after he goes quiet for a few seconds. It doesn't take a genius to realize that he was knocked out.

You

[image attached] pervert 😊 sent 11:58 pm

My love 💖

I'm not going to drink anymore on this trip. sent 7:39 am

You

You should, it's hot when I get phone calls from my needy husband 😝 sent 7:40 am

♡ 𝐂. 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐎

He can't hide it. In fact, he gets caught before he even makes it anywhere with them.

Last night was another night shift so you got home at the dawn hours of the night. A shower and a hot pocket later you were in bed. You made the assumption that Choso had gone out to see his brother, since you didn't see him anywhere in the apartment.

The sound of rustling around awakes you from your sleep.

"Cho? Is that you, baby?" It didn't sound concerned or anything, just a sleepy mumble.

"Oh uh- yes. Hi, good morning." His words are rushed like a kid who's trying not to get into trouble for something they did.

Your pretty eyes peek open to see Choso digging through your drawer for something.

"What are you looking for, babe?" He starts to stutter and try to come up with something you'll believe.

"You were picking out a shirt for me in my bra drawer?" His cheeks turn a bright red as he tries to explain himself.

"It's not what you think-! Okay it is what you think... but I haven't been seeing you much, since you always work late so I wanted to take one of your bras..." He's so cute. Gosh how could you not give him one.

"Okay, pick one out and I'll tell you if you can take it or not. You have to bring it back later though, it's not for you to keep.

He shakes his head furiously fast like a bobble head, and you can't help but laugh.

Choso is the most adorable thing to walk this earth.

♡ 𝐓. 𝐅𝐔𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐔𝐑𝐎

He doesn't even try to hide it, AT ALL. Today was the day of your once a week girls night with your friends. It was usually just some karaoke and dinner and on the occasion; shopping.

Instead of the usual your girls had taken you partying at a club. It was fun to dance around with your friends and scream song lyrics while being slightly intoxicated. Luckily, you aren't the designated driver.

When you had clumsily slipped your shoes off in your drunken stupor you realized that it was quiet in the house.

Too quiet, even for your husband. Toji's definitely up to something, because he'd usually be waiting on the couch for you to return home, and he's not.

"Oh baby~" It's slurred tremendously but you still get it out. Silence returns your call, so you take it upon yourself to find him.

The first and most obvious place to look is the bedroom; you'll start there and keep going. The door was closed but you could still hear him. Upon contrary belief Toji is loud during sex. He probably couldn't shut up to save his life.

His loud groans and moans start to cut off meaning he must be close. Is he watching a video he's recorded of you? Potentially.

Most would probably leave their boyfriend alone to finish so he doesn't get embarrassed, but this Toji Fushiguro we are talking about; he does not care.

You slowly pull the door open only to find out that your husband is not in fact watching a video, but getting off to your panties around his dick.

"Tojiiii, without me?" It doesn't even click that he's using your underwear at the moment.

"Fuck- I thought you weren't gonna be back until-" You must have shocked the shit out of him, because he stops touching himself to check his phone.

"Oh. You're home on time." He throws his phone down onto the bed and sighs.

"Waita' minute," It finally registers that those are your panties he's jerking off too.

"Toji, why do you have my panties? Pervert." And to nobody's surprise, Toji gets off to that kind of stuff. He likes when you call him out.

"Hah- shit. Don't ask such stupid questions... are you gonna come over here and help me finish?" A little smirk covers your face as you walk over to the bed.

©𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐈-𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓𝐒 All works are written by me! Please do not copy, translate, or upload onto other sites thanks!

note: lmaoooo geto's got a little bit out of control

[chlorinecake]

— 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 | 𝐩.𝐬𝐡 ׅ ㅤ֢ ㅤׄㅤ .

▹ PAIRING: long distance boyfriend sunghoon x f. reader

▹ WORD COUNT: 2.8k — 𝓇𝑒𝓆𝓊𝑒𝓈𝓉𝑒𝒹

▹ SUMMARY: What better way to celebrate the return of contact between you and your long distance boyfriend than with some good ole sexy time ?

▹ WARNINGS: SOFT DOM SUNGHOON who can’t help but tease you for struggling to take his cock after going without it for so long, kissing, somewhat inexperienced reader x clingy hoon, throat fucking, choking (m. receiving), tit + nipple play, cheek pinching, spitting, petnames (angel, puppy, princess, good girl), switch dynamics, rough unprotected sex, that’s about it !!

Sunghoon had just step foot inside your shared apartment upon finally getting to see you after returning from his lengthy business trip.

Meeting him at the front door, your boyfriend instantly dropped his belongings at the sight of you, locking the door promptly before pulling you into the biggest hug his wingspan could muster.

That's when you felt him take your chin in his grasp, turning your cheek to face him before licking a long stripe along your skin with his tongue. 

"Oh my fucking God," you shriek at the sudden sensation, eliciting a fit of giggles from your lovestruck boyfriend, "so much for saying hello first, you freak."

"Sorry, baby," he chuckles, kissing you on the cheek as he mumbles, "couldn't help myself when you look so delicious..."

"What're you, a dog?"

"I can be," he smirks this time, playfully raising his eyebrows at you.

"Damn... you're getting real comfortable with the idea of being anything but a grown man, huh Hoon?" You question through a squeaky voice given how tightly he held you against him.

"I'm literally one second away from biting your cheeks right now..."

You scoff at the desperate nature of his words, "You're ridiculous..."

"Yup, and it's your fault I have such emotional issues," he shrugs, eyes taking in the view of your face under the dim apartment lighting, and boy did you look amazing-

"Tell me about it," you roll your eyes, which only makes his smile widen, displaying the faint impression of his dimples.

"And being around youuuu is my therapy..."

"Wonderful-"

"And I would really appreciate it if you stood on your tippy toes to hug me closer and scratch my back a little bit when you do it, too," your boyfriend blinks now, batting his feathery eyelashes at you as you sigh in compliance, not being able to withstand his needy antics.

"C'mere, puppy," you say, making him blush through a bitten lip as he loosened his hold around you so you could return the hug this time.

Cute and sexy, you thought to yourself... your favorite combination on your favorite person...

As of today, it had been ten whole days since you last saw your boyfriend, and the distance was really starting to take a toll on his physical willpower.

The reason behind your brief separation was work obligations on Sunghoon’s behalf, but that still didn’t stop him from having to see your face or hear your voice every single night.

You remember just the other night over FaceTime that he brought up the idea of e-sex, being so pent up with sexual tension that his brain could hardly function...

"Hmmm," he hummed against you, making your heart swell until you realized his cold nose was nuzzled against the top of your head.

"You're sniffing me, aren't you?"

"Mhm," he said, kissing the spot there, "you look sweet... taste sweet... smell sweet..."

"Thank you?" You said while giggling, only to shriek slightly when you felt one of his hands grope your tit, his free hand guiding your hips against his pelvis.

"God, you even sound sweet," he practically groaned, smirking now at the way you tried squirming away from his touch, but he didn't plan on letting you go just yet.

“Looks like someone’s needier than usual,” you say through mumbled words, given the way his soft lips are attacking yours, slowly kissing you into submission.

“I just can’t help myself when I get like this,” he hums, tilting his head as he keeps his lips moving against yours. "I missed you so much, angel.”

“Missed you more,” you return within the contact, letting your hand find his face now as his touch travels from your hips to your thighs, his strength guiding your legs around his waist.

“Not possible,” he smirks, guiding you to your shared bedroom, where he plopped you on the mattress, only to cage you beneath his frame as the passionate kiss continued.

And the room is a mess in this moment, considering how you were too lazy to do any cleaning without Sunghoon’s help, but he doesn’t mind.

The cluttered nature somehow helps him feel more cozy, anyway.

You broke away from his lips, looking him straight in the eyes as you whispered:

“I think you’re wrong about that, Hoonie.”

“Oh, am I now?” He challenged back, pinching your cheek between his thumb and index finger, to which you winced, smacking his hand away.

“Prove it to me,” he went on, holding eye contact as a familiarly menacing smirk overtook his face.

“Always so competitive,” you tsk, “but I’ll play along.”

That’s when you grab the neckline of his shirt, pulling him onto the bed while telling him to sit tight as you got situated between his thighs, doing away with the leather belt he wore.

And he doesn’t have to be a rocket scientist to know what you’re about to do next—getting comfortable on your knees before your hands went to find your hair to tie it off into a ponytail.

"No, no, no, keep it down; it looks nice,” your boyfriend protests, making your hands slowly retreat from your head, “and you look way fucking hotter with those glasses on in person, too.”

“You say that like it almost surprises you?” You tease, but only as a way to stop yourself from gawking at his dick that was now out and in the open, free from the confines of his pants with the prettiest little vein trailing the underside.

His tip glistened with a pearly sheen, the sight alone making your core warm up slightly.

“It doesn’t,” Sunghoon answers dryly, especially now that you were taking his length into your grasp, “but that’s still not going to stop me from praising my pretty girl.”

“Aww,” you coo while stroking him slightly, the cum leaking from his tip helping to keep everything lubricated. “You’re too sweet, baby.”

“Yeah?” He asks with a smirk, hips tensing up and relaxing given the stimulation your hand was providing, “Why don’t you give me a little taste then?”

You look at him through your glasses with the sluttiest look you can muster, still fisting his shaft in your palm but with slower strokes now as you lower your head, letting your breath just ghost over his burning tip at first.

“C’mon baby, don’t tease,” he says, eyes falling lazy as lust renders his mind an utter mess of fuzz and desperation.

You let your tongue circle his head first, feeling his length twitch in your grasp before you fully sealed your lips around him, your own core throbbing now with all the sounds he was making.

“Take all of it, princess,” he demands, pushing your head down slightly for motivation. “Wanna feel myself in the back of your throat so bad...”

And you hum in response, sending gentle vibrations through his cock that made his thighs tense up.

Sunghoon groans softly, just as you started to bob half of his length with your mouth and stroke the remaining half with your hand.

He could tell that you really wanted to deep throat him, but you still hadn’t warmed up to his size yet.

“You want to prove how much you miss me, right?” He whispers through a shaky breath, drawing your glossy eyes back up to meet his face, cheeks dusted a light pink from his arousal.

You nod your head around him this time, knowing that he would rather you stay right there than move to try speaking properly.

He was just so enthralled by the warmth of you around him, a bit of your own saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth given the way your gag reflex was in hyperdrive right now.

“Good girl,” he smirks, but with furrowed brows, his voice trailing off as his hands found the side of your head, cupping your stuffed cheeks as he whispers, “This is only going to hurt a little bit then.”

That’s when you feel your throat opening now as Sunghoon forces himself in, guiding your head up and down along his shaft as he makes your mouth his personal fuck toy.

And you’re whimpering at the pain, eyes tearing up behind your foggy glasses, but it’s not like you mind. You found his desperation for you to be pretty hot, actually.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises, hissing at the way your hands are gripping at his thighs now. “I knew you could take me like a good little slut.”

There’s a little tear trailed down your cheek that he swipes with his thumb, only to throw his head as he keeps using your head, surely bruising your throat somewhere considering all the action he’s putting it through.

“Just hold out a little longer for me, baby; I’m almost there,” he grunts, making your eyes roll in the back of your head as his thrusts grow faster, sloppier, and deeper.

Tapping at his thighs slightly, he knows that’s your usual cue that he’s going a little too far or that you need him to stop for something, and so he does, pulling his dick out of your mouth with a loud and wet smack.

“Was I too rough for you, pretty?” He cues, leaning down to caress your face.

“Not at all,” you say through a raspy, seductive voice, given how sore your throat was feeling.

“So why’d you stop my fun?” He asks, pinching your cheek once again as a way to tease you.

“Because,” you begin, finding his cock with your hand and gripping tightly, just enough to make him wince, “I’m not in the mood to sit here and hump the carpet like a bitch in heat while you destroy my throat.”

He lets out a dry chuckle at your words, trying his best to seem unfazed by the way you’re jerking him off again, up until you spit on the tip, standing up from the ground on wobbly legs.

And your boyfriend lets his back find the bed almost instantly, taking off his jacket and tossing it in the corner as you crawl on top of him, still stroking him in your hand.

“Sorry about that, angel,” he whispers sarcastically, eyes half-lidded and desperate like a hentai wet dream as you straddle him now, slowing down the pumps of your hand. "I guess I just got a little carried away there.”

“Mhm,” you cut him off, releasing his veiny and throbbing cock from your grasp and letting the same hand find his neck, not to choke him but for stability as you straddle his hips.

Your pants are still on at this point, but he does a good job of helping you take them off.

"I bet I can guess the color of your panties now," he smirks as your pants dropped to the floor, revealing your bareness, his eyes widening slightly as he realizes you're not wearing any underwear.

Lining him up with your entrance, you let your weight fall with gravity help you take him.

But his girth is so wide that you have to bite your lip in order to hide your sounds, and he catches onto this, too, finding your hips with his free hands and pushing you most of the way down.

“Mmm,” you mewl, arching your back at the way his tip immediately finds your g-spot in the position.

“What is it, princess? T-t-too much?” He teases, thrusting into you given the delayed movement of your hips.

“I can do it myself, Sunghoon,” you breathe out, the sound of his full name making him raise a brow at you just as your hands now found the mattress, bracing yourself at either side of his head.

“Do what, huh? Fuck me with those weak little knees?” He tsks, rutting up into you once more as a tiny yelp slips past your tired throat. "I didn't think so,” he continued to taunt.

“So mean,” you say, gripping at the sheets now, “you didn't even give me a chance to try...”

"Well, I'm afraid I don't have patience for that today, pretty,” he coos, finding your clothed tits with his hands before teasing your sensitive nipples in between his delicate fingers. “Just let me show you how it's properly done, yea? Promise, I’ll be more gentle this time.”

Struggling to meet his eyes, you couldn’t help but get distracted by how full you felt between your legs, especially with the way he toyed with your tits now, making heat rush from your core to your face.

“I’m not talking to myself, am I princess?” His voice comes out raspy, just as his hand finds your chin, pulling it down so you’d face him.

“S-Sunghoon,” you stammer, being so stuffed to the brim with his deliciously thick cock that you could hardly form a coherent thought right now.

“Go on, baby, I’m listening,” he says in between, sitting up slightly to place a kiss on your jaw. “Want me to take the lead?”

You hate what his condescending words are doing to your mind, but at the same time, his constant teasing was always such a turn-on for you.

“Fine, you insufferable worm,” you manage to say, making him chuckle at the pet name. “I didn’t wanna ride you anyways...”

“Mhm,” he smirks, guiding you to lay on your back now, but being careful not to accidentally pull out of your heat.

You then let out a shriek of pleasurable pain as Sunghoon slams his hips down, thick cocks pounding into your sensitive depths, making your back arch.

“F-fuck,” you whine, digging your nails into his shoulders to which he hisses.

“I’m holding back for you, so you know,” he groans, stalling the pace of his hips as your face obviously scrunches up with every thrust.

“Then don’t,” you say, finding his neck in your hands again as you apply just enough pressure to make him smirk, “fuck me like you mean it...”

He grinds his cock inside you a little harder this time, making your open legs tremble as you held a fierce eye contact with him, not breaking it even as he snapped into you faster now, making you whimper at how good he was fucking you now.

Grabbing your wrist, he moves your hand from his neck, interlacing his fingers with yours before pinning them to the mattress.

“I don’t know why it’s so hard for you to just ask nicely,” he says, a somewhat gentle look on his face despite how rough he was pounding into you, “you could’ve been had me fucking you like this if you weren’t such a brat...”

“Sh-shut up, Hoon,” you hiss, voice coming out in tiny wobbles given the way his forceful thrusts made your tits bounce up and down.

And your glasses are crooked on your face at this point, making him chuckle at how cute you looked while taking his cock, still trying to brat your way out of accepting the fact that you had been just as needy for intimacy with him, too.

“So much for saying thank you,” he huffed, right before releasing his weight from your hands to instead angle your thighs higher in his grip, picking up the pace as his thrusts become faster, harder, and deeper...

“Nghhh-” you whimpered, desperately clinging to his shoulders now as his ego grew with every whimper you let out for him, his own mind practically short-circuiting with the way your slick walls clenched around him now.

Leaning down, Sunghoon lowered his face near yours, swiftly taking off your glasses and tossing them on the pillow before letting his lips sink into yours, humming at the taste of you on his tongue.

“You're lucky I love you,” he slurs with a whisper, making you smile into the contact.

“I love you too, baby,” you return in between your labored breaths, just as your voice was broken by a moan ripping past your throat.

But at this point, Sunghoon couldn't hold back any longer, breaking from the kiss given the way his body shuddered with pleasure now, melting into your touch as you held him impossibly close to you.

“Oh- fuck~,” your boyfriend groaned, nuzzling his face into your neck and leaving a few sloppy kisses there, just as you felt his load burst deep into your cunt.

And as sensitive as he was growing while inside you, he kept thrusting, with no intention of stopping until he felt your thighs shake beside him as you finally reached your high.

With all your squirming, your boyfriend ceased the movement of his hips, collapsing on top of you as your sweaty bodies fought to catch your breaths.

You two lay just like that for a while, Sunghoon's gentle touch caressing the curve of your shoulder while your own delicate fingers moved a few stray hairs out of his face.

“I don't know how I survived ten days without this,” he says to break the silence, making you giggle slightly at his random remark.

“Well y'know what they say... distance makes the heart grow fonder,” you reply, feeling his length slowly leave your walls as he tugs the nearby blanket over your half naked-bodies.

“Uh huh, as if either of us needed any help to feel more fond for each other anyways,” he smirks, placing a feather-light kiss to your shoulder one last time before laying down beside you, basking in the aftermath of your long over-due lovemaking...

Thank you all so much for reading this fic! I haven't really been feeling up to write anything these days, but hopefully you guys still enjoyed reading this nonetheless... Also, here's the link to my ENHYPEN MASTERLIST if you're interested in more works like this!! { PART 1 }

[rafeandonlyrafe]

inspections

words: 1k

warnings: 18+ only!, smut, dom/sub dynamic, daddy kink, daily c*nt inspections 😭, fingering, mentions of p in v sex, edging, i think rafe calls reader kiddo once, reader is described briefly as small chested, mentions of past punishments/spankings/tit slapping

“come on, baby.” rafe taps your thigh. “it's time.”

“im so tired, just let me sleep for five more minutes.” you whine, snuggling your head deeper into the pillow.

“are you being bratty?” rafes words have your eyes snapping open.

“no, daddy, of course not.” you giggle. you both know you were just being a bit naughty by refusing to wake up, but you don't want to face any punishment, sitting up to give rafe a good morning kiss.

“mhm, that's what i thought.” he sighs. “i have to go into work today.”

“what?” you whine. “you can't work from home?”

“nope, got in person meetings today. sorry baby girl.” rafe hates leaving you as much as you hate him having to go anywhere without you.

“okay, gonna miss you so much.” you give rafe another kiss, now noticing that he's already ready and dressed.

“ive got enough time for inspections. open up.” rafe taps your thigh again.

“mkay.” you nod, laying your head back on the pillow, spreading your legs open.

“no wet spot on your panties, wow.” rafe nods, hands moving to rub over your inner thighs.

you smile, proud of yourself for keeping your panties clean overnight, always struggling with rafe pressed up against you.

rafe hooks his finger under the center of your underwear, pulling it to the side to reveal your cunt.

“gosh, so pretty.” rafe smiles down. “my favorite pussy in the world.”

“thank you daddy.” you blush, feeling your cheeks heat up pink.

“makes me not wanna leave you, kiddo.” rafe sighs, knowing he certainly doesn't have time to fuck you, not in the way he wants to.

“will you be home for lunch?” you ask, eyes fluttering closed as rafe swipes his fingers through your folds absentmindedly.

“yeah.” rafe nods. “will bring you home some candy.” he can't help himself but bring his fingertips to his mouth, tasting your wetness with a low moan.

“thank you daddy.” you manage to speak out, voice already wobbly from his touches.

“gonna stick a finger inside, okay? make sure you're still nice and tight for me.” the inspections became mandatory after rafe found out you were touching yourself overnight, not even always consciously, rutting against his thigh while you both slept, wet dreams of your daddy running through your head.

“mkay.” you nod, letting out a breath to relax your body as rafe uses one hand to separate your folds, holding your cunt open as your hole flutters in anticipation.

rafe circles his finger around your entrance before plunging it inside your hole. you always try your best to stay quiet during inspections as rafe likes, but you can't help but squeal out.

rafe just laughs at how pathetic your noises are, beginning to thrust his finger in and out slowly, feeling the way you constrict around him.

“nice and tight, so good baby.” rafe smiles down at you. “you've been such a good girl lately, i can't even remember the last time i had to punish you!”

“two weeks ago.” you pout, remembering it well. “ten spankings because i flashed you while you were in a meeting.”

“that's right.” rafe shakes his head. “you got some tit slaps too, didn't you baby?” rafe looks up your body. there's not much tits there to slap, and rafe always prefers to bend you over his knee and punish your ass instead.

“mhm, but i liked it so you stopped.” you giggle, remembering how you moaned when rafes palm hit your nipples.

“my dirty girl.” rafe shakes his head, moving his thumb to your clit, keeping your cunt pulled apart with his other hand so he can see all of you. sure, it's part of his daily morning inspections to check your cunt, but he usually just pushes a finger in and claims it's good.

“daddy?” you whimper out, a rush of wetness flooding your pussy.

“what is it baby? don't you want me to touch your little clit since im gonna be gone for work for hours.”

“yeah.” you whine, nodding your head as his finger thrusting inside of you moves faster, resisting the urge to add a second, loving how it's just his cock that stretches you open. 

“good girl. you deserve a kiss.” rafe says, and you pucker your lips, waiting for him to bend over your body, but rafe drops down lower, pressing a kiss directly over your clit.

“daddy!” you squeal, back arching off the bed. despite always touching your pussy, rafe rarely gives you head, preferring to get right to fucking you.

rafe moves his thumb to help keep you spread open, stretching the skin around your cunt as his tongue flicks out, rubbing over your clit, now tasting your wetness as well as hearing it with every push of his finger inside of you, a sick squelching sound filling the room.

“can i-can i touch your hair daddy?” you manage to ask, fingers twitching.

“no.” rafe smirks, his voice vibrating your clit as he barely pulls away to speak.

“o-okay.” you grip the bed sheets instead, wishing you could push rafes head further into your pussy, but you know better than to disobey an order.

“can feel you clenching ‘round my finger.” rafe laughs against your cunt.

“feels so good.” you mumble, used to waking up in the morning to rafe inspecting your pussy, but it's never this much as you moan, thighs twitching with the urge to close.

“too bad you're not gonna cum.” rafe sighs, pulling his mouth and finger suddenly out, sitting up.

“no!” you scream out. “no, daddy, please, ive been so good, let me cum, please!”

rafe sighs, leaning over your body to press a kiss to your lips. “sorry, princess, gotta go to work.”

rafe glances at the clock. truth is, he has plenty of time to make you cum, knowing you're only seconds away, but he likes the idea of keeping you wet and horny for him, ready to thrust his cock into the moment he gets back from work.

“and remember princess.” he taps your nose, making your eyes flutter before focusing on rafe. “if you touch yourself while im gone, there will be punishments.”

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @sil @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @kamninaries @buckyswhxre @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @die4niyahhh @mysticallystilinski @https-luvvia @aerangi @folklorsweet

[magicalmanhattanproject]

man im just like. thinking about egg signs and how they've evolved over the course of the qsmp and how the qsmp has evolved over the course of the qsmp and just feeling so much love and affection for every part of the project. i dont have any grand overarching point with this just. like. here's a history of egg comms bc of the kind of person that i am

so wayyyy back ten months ago now at the start of the short and sweet egg event that was planned to last maybe a month at most, the eggs had their own custom, decorated signs!

[ID: Leo with a pink sign with an egg on the bottom corner that reads "hello" in all caps. Her nametag reads Leonardo. End ID]

They were extremely simple, single word signs. There was hello, hola, story, feed, sleep, and maybe one or two more and each was its own separate sign. The eggs could only communicate the most basic needs in words and everything else was through minecraft body language or just hoping their parents guessed right.

But obviously, there was a lot more that parents wanted to hear from their children. I'm not sure who was actually first, but the earliest departure from this system I know about is BadBoyHalo giving Dapper a simple oak sign so he could name his pet slime. (Screenshot from @/lxrd-ren)

[ID: Dapper wearing a diver's helmet standing next to a tiny slime in a boat with an oak sign reading "Bouncy (slmecicle but better)" End ID]

Parents quickly realized how much more convenient this was and pretty soon every single egg had stacks of signs to communicate with.

The next innovation came from Vegetta, who was the resident mod knower at the time. He knew about colored canvas signs and gave Leo signs in her favorite color purple because he loved her and gave her everything she wanted.

[ID: Leo's bed in her room under some Fooligetta fanart with a purple sign reading "<3" End ID]

Colored signs obviously had a lot of advantages. Being able to tell at a glance which egg placed which sign was a huge step forward in eggs being able to have long, complicated conversations as well as leaving obvious marks of their personality everywhere they went. It took a little while for them to be standard for every egg though. Bobby never stopped using oak signs even after Richas and Pomme both showed up with colored signs.

[ID: Two signs reading from right to left a red Pomme sign reading "we already started working on a guillotine factory" and a dark grey Dapper sign reading "thats the most french u have said so far pomme" End ID]

And this was the system for a while! And it worked pretty well for most people! The biggest struggle most people had was egg signs not being translated, but streamers adjusted to that by reading signs out loud so the translators would pick up on them. This also lead to adorable and fascinating dynamics like Richas swearing in signs he wrote for Bad and then warning Bad not to read them out. There was also the genuinely phenomenal development of Leolingo where Leo writes only in Spanish to Foolish because it's easier for her to write and he takes his time to puzzle his way through it and learn in a way that's super cool to watch someone else do onscreen.

Then Tubbo joined the server. And Tubbo himself had no problems at all with the system, but he is dyslexic and he casually mentioned offhand that it was getting kind of annoying to read signs after a ten hour long stream and the admin team Fucking Cooked.

Within 24 hours, they had TTS working on the signs. Within 48 hours, it was working on books too. I can't remember how long it took to get translation working, but it was definitely under a week.

And this opened up a whole new world of possibilities for the entire QSMP. The admin team has been on top of capitalizing on it for story purposes, but also just allowing the egg admins to speak in their native languages to everyone whenever they want has been so enriching for everyone involved. Leolingo is awesome but Foolish has been learning Spanish insanely fast and his process is a lot slower and more frustrating than most people can do in front of an audience of thousands of people without feeling discouraged. That's also one language. We've had everything from Foolish being able to check his work a bit more faster to Phil insisting on his eggs taking a day to speak to him in their native languages to Ramón writing a book for Fit in Cantonese, a language we haven't even seen on the server in any other context!

And all of it is fully understood and fully communicated! Sometimes the translators mess up but no one expects them to be perfect and people ask for clarification if the translator says something that doesn't sound right. It's not only a massive step forward in communication technology, but it's a great demonstration of how to use it and when you can and can't rely on it.

And finally, the most recent innovation! One of BBH's viewers sent him a dono saying they had trouble reading certain signs because they were too low-contrast. Bad, Richas, and Pomme just. Took it upon themselves to fix the problem right there and then. Based on One (1) bringing up their own personal struggle, those three came up with new signs that innovate tremendously on the originals.

[ID: Two separate images of the before and after. The first is the egg signs in their original colors with the corresponding egg's name written on them to demonstrate the font color and the second is in the new, higher contrast colors with the same text. The new signs also have custom decorations for each egg. The second picture also has two signs from Pomme in all caps that read "Send all the love to Richas he spent a whole night making this he's the best <3" End ID]

There are three main innovations visible in the above pictures

1: Obviously, the colors are higher contrast. The signs with white text have darker colors and the signs with black text have lighter colors.

2: The colors themselves are lower saturation. Richas said this made it easier for him personally to read them so he corrected that way, but that's open to change if it causes difficulties for more people than it helps

3: The decorations are for accessibility reasons! People with various different forms of colorblindness will find different sets of colors easier or harder to distinguish, but any of them can look at the decorations and use them to identify whose sign is whose instead.

But! Those innovations are not why I made this post! It's these ones!

[ID: The backs of the new signs when placed on the ground. Most visible are Chayanne's with vines and a hardcore heart, Sunny's with shining sunglasses, and Pomme's with an apple and the Eiffel Tower. End ID]

Richas added distinguishing marks to the backs of the signs too! This is something that Bad brought up specifically as something he wanted because it was hard for him to tell who was talking when he was using TTS from behind signs and couldn't see the colors at all.

We went from custom egg signs (a hotbar or so of words and nothing else to communicate with) through a long journey of expanding communication and expanding who we're bringing along on the communication and how easily they can join in and we've circled all the way back around to custom egg signs (they can say anything they want in any language they want and anyone will know it's them saying it from any angle)

and i guess i have enough feelings abotu that to write All This about it

[catboyieejeno]

bf! intak who falls asleep on your shoulder during car rides and plane rides instead of the other way around. probably drools a little too, but you don’t have it in you to wake him up because his eyes are half opened and his cheek is completely smooshed. so endearing, it would be a crime to disturb him :(

bf! intak who blushes furiously when you kiss his cheek. kisses on the lips are phenomenal, and they are his absolute favorite—but there’s something so sweet about you giving him a kiss on the cheek, especially when you have to stand on your tippy toes and rest your hands on his chest.

proceeds to hold your hands where they rest, looking down to hide the flustered, dorky smile that takes over his features.

“one more” he’ll ask, giving you the softest, pleading eyes. “please?”

bf! intak who blows raspberries on your tummy, and kisses it after. who also has a habit of playing with your fingers, or your rings if you’re wearing any. who has to be touching you at all times, whether it’s a hand on your hip, or your knee, or the small of your back. has to be touching you, and if he isn’t because you’re not nearby, he’ll perk his head up, and look around until he spots you. jogs over and fits his hand into yours with a kiss to your knuckles, mumbling “i was wondering where you went :(“ “but it’s okay!” he beams “cause i found you!”

bf! intak who wakes you up by accident every morning when his lips press into your shoulder or your neck or your jaw. the funny thing is: he’s still asleep. he’s kissing you and nuzzling into you in his sleep with his warm cheek pressing against yours and his hair tickling your face. his arm pulls you tighter to him when you stir, and finally, he wakes up when you stretch, in fear that you actually meant to get up.

“don’t get up yet… please, you’re s’warm..”

“intak, baby, i was just stretching.”

“come closer >:(“

scowls but with his eyes closed until you’re completely wrapped around him and under the mountain of blankets again.

bf! intak who always insists on showering with you. 9/10 times, he’s in there with you, and 6/10 times, it isn’t even sexual. he’s making a mohawk out of your hair with shampoo, and molding his own hair to match with a silly grin on his face. he’s scrubbing your face wash lovingly onto your cheeks and kissing your nose as you smile up at him (then proceeds to wash his face like a MAN all rough and crazy, which earns him a bit of a scolding from you). he holds you under the water and steals little pecks as the water bill gets higher and higher (at this point, you would’ve saved more water taking separate showers).

if you guys are playing music he’s singing loudly between giggles and designating parts so that you guys can put on a little concert. If there’s no music then he’s bickering with you about how you’re hogging the hot water, so he pushes you out of the way. only stays there for a few seconds though, cause the thought of you being cold makes his heart break a little. switches sides with you again with a little feigned annoyance, but even when you insist you aren’t cold he convinces you to stay under the hot stream.

bf! intak who tries his best to cook for you, following recipes of foods you’ve liked to the very last detail. refuses to let you help, but will allow you to sit on the counter as his personal cheerleader so he can steal a kiss or two or ten as he works.

is so careful to measure everything right, letting you try it along the way (only after he’s approved of the taste himself). watches for your reaction so so eagerly and smiles SO big if you say it’s good.

bf! intak who loves being praised by you. sometimes even fishes for compliments because any kind of approval from makes his heart so full and makes him feel so loved! “don’t i look handsome today?” or “did i do a good job?”

whether you compliment his outfit or his looks, or you simply tell him thank you for something, he’s over the moon

bf! intak who is has such a huge heart and gives it over to you completely. it’s yours! so don’t break it. falls first and falls harder, from the very first moment he sees you is so whipped. willing to give you absolutely everything and anything you want.

is so gentle, so considerate, so caring, so intak.

truly your best friend & lover all in one.

[pupkashi]

oranges

gojo knows how to peel oranges

a/n: just something simple inspired by the poem oranges by jean little, i cried the first time i read it, hope you guys enjoy <3

wordcount: 843

masterlist

there was a lot you did for satoru.

you helped ground him, reminded him to drink water, made him food, taught him how to fold clothes and do laundry, showed him all your favorites- from places to eat and videos to play.

you reminded him what love felt like, your tender touches late at night, gentle thumb pads wiping away hot tears, soft whispers and proclamations of love.

satoru always wondered what he did for you.

he didn’t think much of the quality time he’d spend with you, he thought that was a given. he often brushed past the shower of compliments he gave you daily, figuring that was the standard. the little gestures of holding doors open, buying you flowers, remembering your favorite candle scent and buying your shampoo seemed too natural to him for it to be considered and outward act of love.

“you want some oranges?” you asked, looking at him with a smile from the kitchen.

“i could go for some oranges” he replies, getting up from the couch and joining you in the kitchen, taking an orange in his hand.

his thumbs easily tear into through the peel, gently digging his finger and separating it seamlessly from the sweet fruit, continuing his motion until the peel comes completely off, all in one piece.

you on the other hand, are putting too much force into your thumb, your finger piercing straight into the flesh of the fruit, shrieking when the juice gets on your face a bit.

“how do you always peel it so neatly? i have never once been able to” you huff, setting the now punctured Orange on a towel, washing your hands in the sink before drying them off.

“cmon sweetheart it really isn’t that hard!” satoru grins, taking your orange and easily peeling it apart neatly. “you have to do this, and then… get it there and boom!” his smile widening as he stares at you, a pout on your lips and an annoyed look in your eyes.

“yeah yeah mr. ‘I’m so good at everything’” you tease, tasking the orange from his hand and munching on a piece. “they’re sweet today” you smile, putting both your pieces and satoru’s in a bowl, heading back to the couch the two of you were on.

two weeks later the two of you are cooking dinner, reading off the recipe and realizing the dish called for an orange.

“can you hand me an orange?” you ask, turning around and thanking him as he hands it to you. you were determined to not make a mess this time, it’s just an orange after all.

but as gentle as you were, the peel wouldn’t budge, and the little force you applied proved to be just a little too much as your fingers pierced through the flesh again. you groaned in frustrations satoru already taking it from his hands, a smile on his face as he so easily peeled it.

“coulda just asked” he hums, handing you the orange, you’re glaring at him, giggling when he misses your nose.

“thank you angel boy,” you mumble, chopping the orange and adding it in.

one year later you’re sitting together in a grassy field, the wild blowing past the two of you, your laughter and love filled gazes scattered in the wind.

“i got some oranges from the market today!” you grin, taking them out of the wicker basket and showing them to your snowy haired lover. “you owe me breakfast in bed if i can finally peel this damn citrus fruit” you wager, satoru easily sitting back, a small smirk on his face as he nodded.

“I’ll do so breakfast in bed for a month if you peel it in one piece” your eyes widen at his proposition, nodding before looking at the fruit in your hands.

it’s only ten seconds later that you’re throwing yourself back, saying the fruit was obviously defective because ‘there’s no way the peel was that easy to cut through!’

satoru takes the oranges from you, peeling them perfectly and separating them into neat sections.

“I’m glad i have you to peel my citrus” you smile one night, taking the mandarin slices from his hand and humming in delight as the sweet taste hits your tastebuds.

“I’ll always peel your oranges for you” he replies, voice soft, his blue eyes seem a little lighter and his face a bit more relaxed as he looks at you.

it’s been years since then, and you never learned to peel oranges, the times you’d attempt to, juice would get everywhere and the peel coming off in chunks, the aftermath looked like an orange massacre.

satoru’s heart flutters when he sees the citrus fruit, knowing you’ll hand it to him, for him to peel for you. he knows you’ll always ask him to do this for you.

satoru is grateful everyday that you can’t peel oranges, because with the boundless things you do for him, he knows this is the one thing he’ll always be able to do for you.

taglist (send an ask to be added!): @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @4sat0ruu @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @luna0713hunter @torusmochi

[syoddeye]

consequence / shopping

price x f!reader | 1.5k words series directory tags: stalking mention, white lies, jp fears no 'friend zone', entitled cats a/n: john price vs. his feelings. john price vs. old man allegations. john price vs. his barista . ☕

john’s grip tightens on the wheel as he turns onto her street. he’s imagined this moment since he set her in his sight. possessing the patience of a sniper comes in handy with endeavors such as this, and it’s good to pull a trigger that isn’t lethal for once.

she’s waiting outside. good girl.

nose-deep in her phone, she doesn’t notice him until he’s a building away. his heart jumps into his throat when her eyes lift, and her face follows. she squints, then shades her eyes with a hand. a smile breaks the mild confusion, and she rises to her feet from the steps outside her door.

he forces himself to relax, painfully aware of the intensity of his gaze. he can’t risk running her off, but he has to see it—the moment of realization.

~~

it cannot be the same car. calm down, you order yourself, plastering a small smile on your face as john rolls to a stop, grinning back through the window. it’s statistically impossible. there are thousands of cars in town, plenty of the same make and model. this is just the universe’s idea of a cruel joke: giving your favorite customer the same car you smashed your face and arm into. your good hand shakes as you open the door and sink into the passenger seat.

coincidences happen.

~~

“hey.”

“afternoon. you look nice.”

“yeah? i was worried you wouldn’t recognize me without the apron.” she says wryly, draping her bags over her lap.

i’ve memorized your face and more. which one would think would help decipher the minutiae of her expressions. does she recognize the car? remember it? she was drunk and crashed hard enough to break bone—fuck, he hadn’t thought of the effects of the impact. too caught up.

he watches her buckle, eyes falling to her cast. it’s filling with signatures fast. the space that held his number is covered in a drawing of a cat. all that remains is ‘john’. 

“did you draw over my number?”

“i didn’t think you’d want the free advertising.”

smart girl. the number isn’t traceable further than falsified records, but it's best to avoid nuisance. he lets the doodle eclipse his grand scheme and pretends to adjust the mirror. he’ll wait until the time is right. “that i don’t.”

the drive to her preferred market is ten minutes by car. she might’ve managed alone, but he’s done some of his best work in ten minutes. performed miracles and misdeeds. he spends this bit on recon.

he susses out a little more information about her life: she’s worked, on and off, as a barista for nearly a decade. she recently took in a kitten, the very one depicted on her arm, and named her chicken cutlet a tortoiseshell.

“it's all i had for food. now cece’s a snob.”

“points for uniqueness.” he grins and gestures at the doodle on her arm. though he doesn’t have much of an eye for art, it’s obviously stylized. “and creativity. bet you did her justice, like a regular artist.”

the comment, meant as a compliment, makes her wince. she ducks her head in poorly concealed shame, pretending to check something in her wallet. it comes out casually, like a weather report—she dropped out of an mfa program to move here, for the ex, a year ago.

the details resurrect his anger. 

the tremble in her hand tells him to leave it. he will. for now.

the car park is packed, and it’s all he can do to not celebrate when he finds a space on the first go. he cannot be much older than her, but he’d rather avoid feeding the ‘old man’ reputation his sergeants encourage.

she separates her reusable bags as they climb out of the car. “do you have any pets?”

he circles to her side and takes them without asking, “no. afraid my schedule doesn’t allow for it.”

“oh.” 

he beats her to the baskets, tossing her bags into the bottom, and she strolls past him. he traipses behind, head on a subtle swivel, inwardly tickled at how normal it feels. it’s not often he shops, let alone in the company of a bird. it makes him puff up. go a bit softer in the face, especially when a woman roughly his mother’s age gives them a long, wistful look in produce.

it’s nice playing house, even in the middle of a bustling supermarket, dodging the less spatially aware and rogue children. it strokes his ego to flex an arm over her head to reach the shelves she can’t and carry a bag of cat litter in the other. he cracks a joke about tinned fish, and though she doesn’t laugh, he can tell she wants to. how she ignores his suggestions and color commentary on other shoppers. it’s fascinating to watch her, all business, as if she were behind the coffee bar. tapping items off the list on her phone, triple-checking a recipe.

while she’s distracted, slowly loading the conveyor belt one item at a time, john pushes his luck. he slips his card and pays.

her focus breaks when she sidles up, reaching for her wallet, only for the cashier to offer the receipt. she takes it, confusion turning to understanding, and her jaw clenches. her thanks are muttered, and she promptly joins him in bagging what’s left.

he knows she’s upset before she speaks, practically punching items into the bag.

“please don’t do that again.” she whispers. “my wrist is broken. i am not broke.”

angry as she is, she sails out the doors without waiting. clearly expecting him to tote her bags like a porter and follow.

which he does, of course. it’s what he signed on for.

good view, at least.

the ride back to her place is quiet, but he feels the tension burning away with the light. it’s damn distracting how the sun plays off her skin and hair. ten minutes fly by. she turns to him as the car idles, a storm of thoughts in her eyes. severe, tempestuous, and pretty.

“park. you’re not off the clock.”

“yes, ma’am.”

the bag handles loop into one fist, and the litter rests on his shoulder. he beams, and with the complete confidence he usually carries himself, he starts up the steps of her building.

“uh…john?” 

he glances over his shoulder and sees her fidgeting at the bottom of the stairs.

“that’s…not actually my address.”

his brows raise, fall, and pinch in rapid succession. the minx. a fake address. smart.

she sheepishly apologizes on the walk to one street over and explains. 

“i mean, this part’s weird.” 

“what part?”

“befriending regulars,” she shrugs. “the counter’s there for a reason—to sling espresso, yeah, but it’s also a social barrier.”

“do you often befriend regulars?” he hopes not.

“god, no.”

thank christ. he’ll start memorizing faces on his next trip, just in case.

“but being polite to people is part of my job.”

he cracks a careful grin. “do you get reprimanded for that?”

her eyes roll. “ha. ha. no. my manager’s a coward and afraid of me. what i mean is, it’s a tightrope. be nice, but don’t be too nice to the wrong people, else they’ll stalk you or something.”

john’s gut tightens. what was his plan again? expose her? he manages a chuckle. “and am i one of those…wrong people?” effortless.

“well, you’re a minute from my kitchen with an invitation. so.” she smirks after a second. “are you fishing for a compliment? for me to say you’re special?”

heat shoots up his neck and colors his cheeks. “i am not–”

“relax. i’m joking. but you are the first customer i’ve brought back to my place.”

the phrasing instantly sets him on high alert. it could mean nothing. it could mean anything.

her place is markedly worse than her fake one. he does not like the look of the neighbors, but the exterior light reaches the walk. he bites his tongue when she veers to the side, cutting down a set of steep stairs to the basement. it won’t do, not long-term.

but the interior of her flat—it’s everything he did and did not expect. 

it’s sensibly furnished and lit to compensate for its floor plan and limited windows. it’s cozy and colorful, with artwork fixed to the walls and littering various surfaces. some pieces are more notable than others: tiny statuettes of women, a diptych of a cow, and a collage of what looks like found notes. in the living area, there is a console and a headset, a small collection of games and dvds, and ten too many knickknacks. a stuffed backpack occupies a seat at the table.

he moves mechanically behind her, toeing off his shoes and treading straight into the surprisingly decently sized kitchen. he sets the bags and litter down, rolling his shoulder as he soaks it all in.

might be his only chance, after all.

something bumps his shin. two big amber-colored eyes stare up at him, unblinking.

“you must be the famous cece.” 

“the one and only.”

the young cat weaves through his legs, then jumps, immediately sticking her pointy head into the bag containing the chicken. she meows, indignant, when her human automatically hooks her around the middle without looking and returns her to the floor.

“bad.” she murmurs, unpacking. “would you mind setting the litter next to the door down the hall?”  

john obeys, though he lingers outside of said door, staring through a crack into the dark of her room. she has a big, comfortable-looking bed. a shudder passes over him. an unhelpful throb. christ. feels like a fucking teenager. he pulls himself together, retreating toward the door to leave. probably overstayed his welcome.

just as he turns to say his goodbyes, she glares from the kitchen. around her neck, untied, hangs an apron—don’t be afraid to take whisks.

“where are you going? i’m making dinner.”

it’s not an invitation. it’s an order.

he slips his shoe off.

“yes, ma’am.”

[writella]

Fuckin’ Favorite

Synopsis: Whose the fairest of them all? It’s you. It’s always been you. Negan’s prepared to let each one of his wives know just that tonight.

— or: Oh Lord, does Negan love his fuckin’ favorite wife!

Details: Negan Smith x fem!reader, smut— fingering, thigh riding, and penetration without protection; reader at the Sanctuary, “wife”!reader, guilty!reader because when am I not feeling guilty for wanting Negan, Negan being rude in one small part, I’m pretty sure I changed the layout of the wives quarters from the show, and a fuck load of ‘fucks’ from Negan. Mostly proofread. wc: 2.2k.

A/N: I mostly get right to it, so buckle up! And if you like this one, check out this daydream I wrote because I think it’s really cute.

—with love from writella ♡

He comes in without a knock.

The door, though brittle as it is, slams shut. The metal and leather of his jacket clink and slap as his back pounds against it. He has no care that he could break the door, or for the noise and late hour of his arrival.

This was his house. His rules.

“Good evenin’, sweetheart.”

If it wasn’t for that slight twang in his accent, or that wiley look that punctuates the end of his sentences, making everything he says just as comical as unsettling, it would have sounded more like a, Hello, Clarice— nonetheless, you still hold your breath.

“It’s half past ten,” you decide to say, looking down, making sure you don’t sound too sarcastic or displeased with his appearance. It’s just that you hated it when he came to your room, especially when all the other girls were right outside in the common room or in their bedrooms that neighbored yours. You much rather go to his room if you have to. It’s quiet and separate from the rest of the habitants of the Sanctuary. He could be as loud as he wanted— even though he always was anyway— but that would mostly be for you— so you didn’t have to feel so ashamed.

“Well would you prefer a Hey, sexy. Strip down. Ass up. then? Just get right to it?” You say nothing. “Cause I could.” Negan tilts his head sideways with a slight grin, his forehead protruding forward as he tries to find your eyes. All he sees is cheeks starting to flush, an embarrassed shake of your head, and eyes that stay stuck on your black ballerina flats.

You were sitting on the rear of your bed, only looking up sometimes. Recently, you were trying to get better with eye contact. You wanted to show that you’re not afraid of him anymore. It was supposed to be a silent statement that he wasn’t fooling you and that you weren’t softening up to him. That you know what this is, who he is; you’re cognizant of what he does to you, to the others girls, to people outside these walls. But, this didn’t work. No matter if you were looking down or up, you could never seem to get rid of that deer in the headlights look— The Roadkill Stare or The Corpse’s Bride as Negan called it— wide and bewildered, like he was going to run you over. Sometimes it made him feel sad. That there were moments where he could see you trying to resist your natural instinct to flinch when he comes near. But other times, it made him feel powerful. Not the fact that he scared you, but that he could see what was underneath it— that you were scared of yourself. He knows you like him. He knows from the way your face slightly twists as you suppress your snickers and smiles at his jokes when you two are alone, or when he makes fun of Simon for yet another one of his bad attempts at acting like him; when you think you’re doing well at maintaining that timid Tim Burton eyed version of a poker face. He knows you’re not completely scared of him, at least not anymore. Little by little, he’s learning to clock the nuances of your expressions: he sees how your eyes trail his body when he undresses in front of you, or the way you follow him as he walks to talk to this person or that, how you’re acutely aware of when and how he moves, your eyes flickering towards his hands before he gestures with them. It’s like you know too. As if you see his underneath the way he can for you. You’re becoming as familiar as he is.

He’s aware.

You can’t fool him any longer.

“Get up for me.” It’s a soft command said in his darkened voice. On instinct, you oblige. This is how it is. He walks closer, his fingertips lightly brushing slowly down your shoulder until he reaches your waist. He grabs you quick and close on both sides, pulling you straight against him. You gasp, arms swinging back slightly, back arching against him as he presses you on his lower abdomen and groin. You can feel his breath, and the heat of his intense gaze. “Kiss me.”

Your mouth is agape. Your breath shudders. You’re frozen.

You do nothing.

There you go again, his little fawn bride. If eyes could be any more rounder, symmetrical spheres, they’re yours. He could laugh but he doesn’t. He only repeats himself. Quietly, sternly, “You kiss me first this time.”

You had never done that before.

“Do I gotta say it a third?”

You shake your head. No.

Hesitantly, you reach up, touching his face with ghostlike fingertips, feeling the bristles of his beard as you bring yourself closer. Your lips are light and tentative as you finally press yours on his. For him, it was like being kissed by an angel. It makes him soften up for a moment, tilt your head up higher for you to give you more leverage. He kisses you just as sweetly. His thumb strokes your jaw.

After a few more kisses, you pull back to look at him. You hold his shoulders and he holds you by your waist. Your faces are so close, his eyes could almost be as wide as yours, and for a moment, it all feels so soft and dream-like. But quickly, the iridescence fades: before you realize it, he puts his tongue in your mouth forcefully, making your head roll back. The unexpected shift makes you gasp into his mouth.

He turns you around, slams you again your door. Your tall bureau near it bangs against the wall with you. Some of your folded clothes you had yet to put away and jewelry falls off the top as your head bounces.

Negan’s left hand runs down your body, sliding two fingers down under your dress and over your panties, pressing in at your slit. He finds wetness forming. His fingers make it more pronounced as he creates a wet spot.

“Tell me you want me,” he says as he starts to rub your clit.

You take a shaky breath inwards, covering a small moan.

Negan’s fingers slide inside your underwear and down right into your hole. He pumps slowly three times, never losing eye contact with you and then he takes them out. “Cause I want you,” and he proves it by putting the two fingers in his mouth and licking them clean, wiping his lips afterwards with his tongue. “Tell me you do too.”

Your breath remains heavy. Finally, you whisper, “I want you.”

He spins you around again. His back against the door once more, producing another slam you know all the girls will hear. He raises one of his legs and slots his thigh in between yours. His hands rest on your hips, rocking you against him. It feels good. Your thin cotton panties and bare thighs brushing and rocking against his that are rough and denim clad. You try to resist the urge to make any sounds because of how much you like it. “Tell me you need me.”

This makes you whine. “Can we—” you start to ask— and you can’t believe you’re even going to say it— “Can we just go to your room? Please?” Oh God, what would everyone at Alexandria think? They’d be so disappointed. They’d hate you. The wives have never been mean, they accepted you, understood your condition more than anyone else, but where you only had very educated guesses of what everyone at home would think of you, you had a stone hard fact of how the other girls were starting to see you. Their eyes could not lie as much as yours: you felt women’s growing glares of silent resentment whenever you were seen with Negan. He was more forgiving with you; never got too nasty about your habit of not speaking when you’re spoke to; he was gentle with his touch when others were watching; never made you hang out with any of the other men if you didn’t want to; and he talked to you, communicated more. They saw it. They knew it. They figured you were more in the know about things outside the Sancutary than they were. You tried to use it to keep them informed as well, as a way to preserve what little favor you had left, but now look at you, ruining it all as they’re forced to listen. Not only submitting to whatever he may do to you, but asking to change the location before it begins.

“No. You get me here or not at all.” You knew he wasn’t lying. His voice was stern. He looked you in the eye even if you weren’t looking back, you felt it. It told you that he wouldn’t budge, not even a little. “And you can sleep in those panties if that’s the case.”

You stay silent for a moment. Eyes peering into his wishing just your look could say it all. “Negan…” you whisper.

“Yes, baby?”

“I- I need you.”

In an instant, Negan pushes you off of him. His hands go to the ends of your dress and pull it off of you with your arms and hair flying.

“Take it off,” he demands after he throws you down on your bed.

You feet kick off your flats and you raise your hips to discard your panties, never losing sight of him as he rips off his jacket, unbuckles his belt, and crosses his arms to get rid of his shirt. You loved the look of his years-faded tattoos against his tan skin and the curves of his light muscles when he raises his arms.

You’re in a trance, not seeing that he sees that you’re doing it again. Bambi eyes trailing him down. It’s every time you guys do this. And fuck, you must think he’s sexy. He loves it. Because he knows he’s fucking sexy. He knows that pretty girls like you will always come around. You just can’t help it. His grin is as wide as your eyes because of it.

Negan is hard and he wastes no time. He’s been thinking about claiming you all day. He hooks his hands under your knees as you lay with your back flat on the bed.

Negan lines himself against you and immediately starts to piston himself inside of you, never completely pulling out. Your breast shake as his thrusts keep pushing you back. You felt like you were vibrating.

He is obsessed with this angle. Getting to see your face scrunch and twist and contort. Getting to hear your heavy pants and sighs. Getting to feel the squeeze of your pussy and he continues to push inside you fast, fast, fast.

And he’s mesmerized by your breast. The continuous bounce of your perky tits that were now his. He wants his mouth on them, he wants his dick between them, but for now he’ll just watch them jump and spring— it’s just as sexy to him. He might even have to cancel all of tomorrow's plans just to watch them fly all day like this.

Your head turns to your left side and you catch yourself in your full length mirror— the view is from head to the top of your waist. You see your left tit bouncing along with your head and stomach as Negan keeps pushing into it with no relent. Instantly you moan at the sight. Your hand swings to your face right after, your eyes closing shut.

Negan rips your fingers from off your mouth. “No,” he warns. “I know you like it—” you whine when he says that— “Stop hiding it. Look at yourself or I’ll stop.”

You don’t open them.

He stops.

“You gonna fuckin’ listen?”

Slowly, you ynclose your scrunched eyes, seeing yourself and your parted lips again.

“Good girl.” And then, Negan starts splitting you open again, making you shake. The sudden movement makes you moan, “oh- uh.”

“Tell me you want it.”

You don’t resist anymore. You continue to look at yourself in the mirror as you say, “I want it.”

“Tell me you need it.”

Your head turns to watch where your body connects with his. “Ohmygod, I need it.”

He growls as he follows your gaze, voice strained and rough like he’s going to punch something as he repeats, thrusting faster, “Tell me you fucking need it.”

“I need it.” Then you moan, “Negan, please!” You chant, “Please. Please, Negan, I need it!”

“You need it, baby?” He jeers. “You want me to give it to ya?”

You nod as you whine, tears almost coming out. Your breasts still bounce for him and you love it as much as you hate it. “Yes, Negan.”

“You know what I came in here to do, baby?”

You’re still whining, you're practically incoherent. His little fuck doll. All you can say is his name.

“Look at me when I tell you.”

Your eyes go up to his. Watching him as he continues to pump into you. You see how his body vigorously shakes in unison with yours. His skin and his pushing up and down, in and out, as he makes your body jump.

“I came in here,” he starts, losing his breath and trying not to falter from his thrusts as his face places itself above yours, “To show every single bitch in the goddamn house that you’re mine. And that you’re the only fuckin’ one.” You respond with only sex-filled sounds. You’re close to exploding. Your body still jumps along with his. Your bouncing breasts rubbing against his pex as he commands, “Tell me you want me to do it. You want me to make you come.”

As always, though this time it was because you were on the verge of losing all control, you give no answer.

His words bite at your parted lips as he repeats, “Tell me!” And he slaps the side of your ass.

The pang forces you to speak: “I want you to do it Negan please!”

Negan rises. His mouth circles as he moans. He holds your hips now, raising them off the bed as he pumps into your harder. “Say it again.”

“Do it, Negan, please. Please make me come.” With each word ending in moaning pants as you repeats, “Please- Please- Please- Please- Please-”

“Oh fuck,” his gutteral voice rasps and roars for all to hear. Your absolute submission brings him closer to the edge. He smiles widely knowing he’s about to come so hard in that tiny pussy of yours. “OH FUCKIN BOY,” he laughs, knowing he has the whole floor’s attention, not caring a single bit how any of it sounds. “GOD DAMN. THAT’S FUCKIN RIGHT. IM GONNA MAKE MY PRETTY LITTLE FUCKIN WIFE FUCKIN COME BECAUSE SHE’S- MY FUCKIN’- FAVORITE.”

[applepie-enthusiast]

10 characters, 10 fandoms

RULES: List your ten favorite characters from ten separate fandoms, then tag ten people

I got tagged by: @sukiluvvs 💗

In alphabetical order:

Ai Enma (Jigoku Shoujo)

Chuuya Nakahara (Bungou Stray Dogs)

Emilia (Re:Zero)

Giyuu Tomioka (Kimetsu no Yaiba)

Saeyoung Choi aka 707 (Mystic Messenger)

Shinya Hiiragi (Owari no Seraph)

Sunako Nakahara (Yamato Nadeshiko Shichi Henge)

Toph (Avatar the Last Airbender)

Yor Briar/Forger (SpyxFamily)

Yuuko (xxxHolic)

Tagging!! @getsuuna @marurumai @mikuyuuss @octoooo and others who wants to do this ahaha idk anyone here much sorry :D

[jeff-the-innkeeper]

10 Characters, 10 Fandoms

RULES: List your ten favorite characters from ten separate fandoms, then tag ten people!

Thank you @vvatchword for tagging me!!

A few of my favourite characters are the ones that I hyperfixated on years ago and then daydreamed/wrote a ton of fic about so the versions that exist in my head are probably incredibly different than canon, bare with me on this lmao

in some vague sort of order…

1. Joel (The Last of Us)

2. Atlas (Bioshock)

3. Emily Kaldwin (Dishonored 2)

4. Ed Teach (Our Flag Means Death)

5. Crowley (Good Omens)

6. Yang Xiao Long (RWBY)

7. Cass (Fallout New Vegas)

8. Jotaro Kujo (Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure)

9. Vergil (DmC Devil May Cry)

10. Baragon (Godzilla)

i tag uhhh

@stedebonnit @everything-is-by-design @viperra1 @paleoleigh @falloutnewnobody @annihilatius @f0ntainefuturistics @skripsy @firey-the-blaze @iightbringer

[okwons]

my one and only

♡ enhypen ﹒ female reader genre fluff established relationship word count 400 warnings skinship mentions of food — bookshelf

heeseung | having you close to him

in most cases, he does it subconsciously; an arm or hand of his snaking around your waist whenever you enter his bubble of proximity.

he adores the elicited reactions from such minute gestures; frequently glancing back at you to engrave the flustered expression smothered over your face in his memory.

jay | saving you the last bite

when making a meal, he tends to cook a serving of two—despite your insistent protests. he’d rather have you eat well than himself; always making sure to leave you the last bite.

it wouldn’t just be a spoonful, it would most likely be half the dish. his way with words would have you persuaded to finish eating the other half, occasionally feeding you himself.

jake | opening the door for you

following his gentleman agenda, he never lets you open a door yourself. often times, he races to the door handle before you can even lay a finger on it.

an example being, opening the car door for you before he gets in himself, managing to slip in a cheesy petname like “m’lady” in the process.

sunghoon | eye contact

a simple, but heart fluttering gesture that he does unknowingly. no matter how many people in the room, his gaze would always linger back to you.

he finds himself full on admiring you; his mouth slightly agape while his orbs are pouring with love. the lengthy eye contact between you two never fails to make his heart skip a beat.

sunoo | touching up your hair

if he happens to see a strand of your hair in its unjust place, he wouldn’t hesitate to fix it. he’s quite observant when it comes to you; taking into account your usual way of doing things.

he would probably be the type to buy you cute hair pins that compliment your hair perfectly. the way your face lights up whenever you receive them only makes him want to shower you with hundreds more.

jungwon | remembering the smallest details

he holds onto every word you say to him, no matter how futile it may seem to you, he makes sure to encapsulate them in a separate corner of his mind.

he notes even the smallest details you share with him, adding in things like “oh! i remember you telling me this.” or “isn’t this your favorite?”

riki | lending you his clothes

a privilege only given to you, given the fact that you look ten times better in his clothes rather than your own. it’s completely off limits to others, but when it comes to you; he simply turns a blind eye.

he finds you adorable in clothes that are twice your size, never giving up the chance to gawk at you whenever he sees you enter his room with one of his oversized tees.

© okwons ot7 headcanons take so long to write hhh

@hysgf @beomgyu-stan-present @okwonyo @byhees