#I think I could talk to him for days and never get bored

[zoieru]

thoughts about parts of hsr men's bodies, and how they react to your attention on them (mostly cute, not quite nsfw)

Just sum thots I wanted to get down n share, perchance with some like-minded individualss. I sort of yap when I write, not written in perfect grammar or prose. Maybe spoilers for 3.0. no gender, not nsfw, but suggestions splatted about ♡

Aventurine, Sunday, Phainon, Mydei

Aventurine

His hands, fingers, the whole lot. They're so dextrous and slender and nimble, probably from playfully flicking chips between his fingers as a taunt to those at the table. The way the chips twirl between them effortlessly has you often watching in a momentary trance. You sort of chide yourself internally when your thoughts start to drift at how they move, how *able* they are, and the implications of such...

You know he pays a lot of attention to his appearance, so his nails are always seemingly perfect, softly rounded at the edges, clean. It's to an extent that seems kind of impossible, as you find yourself captivated by them when you play with his fingers as you sit together. They're just...pretty. "You got a thing for hands, or is it just me?" He teases, a little smirk tickling the edge of his lips as his eyes glint with that familiar spark of mischief. He's always playing it off, of course, but he can't deny the little flutter he feels in his chest when you kinda admire him like that. There's something different about the way you do it, makes him feel special and wanted. Which the boy deserves in bounds.

Plus he looooves touching you with them. He's just a sort of handsy person, but in a cheeky-reverent kind of way, especially once he notices your attention on them. He'll fiddle purposefully, that frustrating smirk on his mouth, he'll run his fingers over your skin gently, pinching and squeezing here and there, and trace your bottom lip with his thumb when he's got you a bit flustered.

Sunday

For Sunday my first thought was his head-wings, of course, but that would be boring since everyone talks about the way the lil things flutter and fluff up, so we're going for his hair.

Now, Sunday obviously paid attention to his appearance as the Bronze Melodia, and all of his positions. He had to look the part, after all, and his tendency for control seeped into this aspect of his life too. But I like to think he never really saw his hair as anything but a sort of tool, something on him to be viewed and consumed by other people, just as a lot of his life was. (Thinking about Sunday makes me so sad aaa). He looked after it, liked it, but didn't see the utility or pleasure of it outside of that use much.

But when he fell with broken wings, and ended up in the strangely soft and uncomfy-comfy laps of the astral express crew, and others, like you, he, along with other things, started to realise the pleasure and softness that could come from his hair. For instance, along with his wings, if you touch his hair, he's a goner. He's just so...sensitive, and it sends little shivers down his whole body, to where he's almost made docile and incoherent. His brain short circuits a little and he becomes like when you touch a shark on that part of their body where they just become all floppy.

He doesn't even have the energy to be self conscious about it much when you're lacing your fingers through the grey strands, and if he does he'll blush a bit, cutely, and avert his eyes almost grumpily as he just shifts in your lap so his face doesn't have to meet your gaze. Plus, he finds it's one of the only time his yappy brain quiets a little, the sensations like a soothing silk wrapping around the thoughts and making them a bit less intrusive. Basically he's cute as hell, it hurts my soul.

Phainon

Okay, so, I'm gonna go with the expected here but HEAR ME OUT. His eyes are so expressive, even ignoring how intensely blue they are to the point it feels as though a droplet of the sky had just plopped into their depths one day and decided to take up residence hello Satoru ♡.

They're always moving slightly, narrowing a touch when thinking along with that slight pout of his mouth, widening with a gentle spark when he gets an idea or sees something he finds cool (imagine him like...seeing a stupid meme and showing mydei, and mydei just like -_-). When his face lights up, eyes catching that spark of excitement, it's just so sweet and beautiful. You find yourself desperate to keep seeing that light flicker in his eyes, finding things that make him light up.

Then there's when they soften. Usually when he's looking at you. Or mydei stop. He'll be talking or into something and then turn to look at you half way through, his eyes instantly softening ever so slightly. It's enough to make your heart flutter, just that. It's pathetic really, but that's what this puppy will do to you.

If you ever comment on them he'll chuckle a little, maybe bring his hand to his nape, the classic, looking around like 'really? hehe'. He takes the compliment and thinks about it a bit during the day at intervals, feeling warmer inside.

ALSO WHEN HE TILTS HIS HEAD SUBTLY WHEN CONFUSED LIKE A PUPPY OKAY BYE

Mydei

Mydei is hard because (get your mind out of the gutter) I feel like he would be so enthralled and slightly confused by all of your touch, since he hasn't felt much soft and tender affection in his whole damn life. So let's go with his skin, namely, tracing soft and idle patterns on it, anywhere really.

I'm picturing it starting with like...you just idly drawing circles or swirls on his arm or hand while you're relaxing, maybe before sleeping, just at some point. It didn't even really cross your mind that you were doing it, it was just natural. But this man had his eyes locked onto your fingers as they moved, eyeing the movements and taking note of the sensations almost with suspicion, like -what the hell is this and why do I like it-. Basically bro is shook, it's cute.

You'll catch him staring and be like ?? And he'll get a touch embarrassed, try to play it off a bit, grunt and look away a little, but after a bit he'll admit it feels kinda nice and you couldddd do it more if you wanted to. He wouldn't mind. Yknow. And he'll end up enjoying it a lot, anywhere you do it, letting you trace his skin more purposefully, the muscles rippling underneath it, his tattoos. He finds his muscles relax under your touch as if you're weaving some of Aglaea's golden thread over them, soothing them more than he's really felt before. And he'll give you a bit of a grumpy cat face when you stop, like...excuse me what? Keep going???

Anyway kinda thinking about doing more now but like, their reactions to each of these things individually, like playing with their hair or hands. Brainrot. Anyway make sure u ate something today or I'll haunt your dreams bye.

[munsonsmixtapes]

Smutty Steve request! Steve and reader are longtime friends, but he never thought of her *that* way until she shows up at a party or whatever in a this dress (that she got to finally get him to notice her) - like Dress by Taylor Swift inspired!

I got a little carried away with this one but I hope that’s okay lol

cw: MDNI (18+) smut (p in v) fingering, oral (f receiving)

Everyone knows how hopelessly in love with Steve you are. They can see how pathetically you look at him when he’s flirting with another girl. They can see it in the way you always go out of your way to touch him in a flirty manner. Everyone knows that you’re in love with Steve, well except for Steve.

You don’t know how obvious you can make it. You’ve asked him out multiple times and he always agrees, but he’s never aware that it’s a date. It’s just two friends hanging out. It’s to the point where you could tell him exactly how you feel and he still wouldn’t get it.

Steve isn’t stupid, you know that to be true, so why is he not getting your hints? How much longer are you going to have to spell it out for him until he finally gets it?

You stand in front of the house and take a deep breath as you smooth out your dress. It’s a little black thing. Something you would normally never wear, but after some convincing from Robin and Nancy at the mall, you caved and bought it.

It’s tight, hugging every single curve and heels you’re wearing make your legs look long even though it doesn’t matter because you can barely walk in there.

You hold on to Robin and Nancy for support as they lead you into the house, knowing that without them, you’d be walking like an animal who’s learning to walk for the first time. This is just saving you the embarrassment.

The second you walk through the door, Steve can’t seem to keep his eyes off of you. He’s not even paying attention to what Eddie, Jonathan, or Argyle are talking about. All he cares about is you.

Before he can stop himself, he’s making his way into the kitchen where you’re headed. Robin and Nancy let go of you and you hold onto the counter, trying to not make it obvious that you’re struggling.

“Can I get you a drink?” He asks and you nod enthusiastically. That would definitely make you forget about the pain of these stupid shoes.

“Please,” you nod and he’s quick to grab a solo cup and the red wine he knows you love. He pours it into the cup and watches you take a few sips, wondering what your pretty, red lips would look like with your mouth wide open as you moan his name over and over.

“Doesn’t y/n look great tonight, Steve?” Robin moves to stand beside him, nudging his shoulder with hers.

“Y-yeah,” he stutters, letting his eyes rake over your body. He’s never thought about you that way, but now he can’t stop thinking about burying his face between your thighs as your hands grab fistfuls of his hair, tugging on it.

You finally look at him and notice his cheeks flushing. You assume it’s the alcohol, but you can’t help but think that maybe it’s something else. Something dirty.

The tension between the two of you is now palpable as Steve steps forward and Robin and Nancy flee the kitchen, deciding that their work is now done.

You mimic Steve, stepping forward, only for your ankle to roll as you do so. Steve is quick to catch you, preventing you from falling to the floor. Those honey eyes are looking down at you in concern and you feel like you could just melt under his gaze.

He’s leaning so close that you’re sure he’s going to kiss you, but he doesn’t. He’s whispering something to you, those beautiful eyes boring into yours, but you can’t quite make out the words.

“Are you okay?” He asks, concern etching his features and you’re honored that he cares, but Steve always cares about you. About everyone. Always quick to take care of anyone who needs the attention.

You still remember the moment you fell in love with him. You were all park riding bikes because it was such a nice day. You didn’t know how to ride, but you wanted to feel included so you borrowed one of his bikes without having any prior experience.

You couldn’t stay steady, the bike moving this way and that and eventually, you fell over, the bike landing on top of you. Steve was quick to hurry over to you. Without a word, he pushed the bike off of you then carried you over to the blanket where the others who weren’t riding were sitting.

He pulled out a first aid kit from his pocket and cared for your scraped up knee. He was just so sweet and no one had ever done anything like that for you. He was your knight in shining armor and he didn’t even know it.

You’re brought to the present as helps you stand up, but your ankle gives out again as you wince at the pain coursing through it. Without another thought, Steve picks you up and carries you down the hallway to the nearest empty room which happens to be a bedroom.

Steve sets you on the bed and kneels in front of you, quick bring his hands up to your shoes, unbuckling the ankle straps. He pulls the shoes off your feet and without a word, he begins to massage your ankle that you rolled.

An involuntary moan falls from your lips at the feeling, his fingers working magic on your muscles. It’s easily the most pleasure you’ve ever felt and you wonder if he’s this talented with his fingers in other areas.

“Does that feel good?” He asks and you can just imagine him asking you the same question with his hand between your legs, his fingers pumping in and out as you moan over and over.

“Mhm,” you nod as he presses even harder into your skin, causing you to moan even louder and he’s trying his best to hide his hard on as he moves back ever so slightly, but it’s so obvious now, sticking straight out.

You need him to touch you now, your mind not even focused on your pain as all you can think about now is having his fingers inside you. You’re desperate for it now as he continues to massage your ankle. You’re focused on his touch, his soft skin against yours.

It’s torture to think about but you can’t help it. You want him, need him so bad that you feel like you could cry.

You grab him by the wrist and guide his hand towards your cunt as you spread your legs. His eyes widen and you can clearly see his pupils dilate as his hands grab hold of the waist band of your panties. He pulls them down as you spread your legs even wider, looking up at him with a flirty look.

Steve presses his his middle and ring fingers together before he brings them to your cunt slowly, looking you in the eye, giving you every opportunity to back out if this isn’t what you want.

As soon as his fingers slide inside, he knows he’s made the right choice as you moan again. He never thought he’d do this kind of thing with you, but now that he is, there’s no way he’s backing out. Watching you splayed out on the bed just for him, he feels like he’s in heaven.

His pumps are slow at first as he tries to get the hang of it, only using the tips of his fingers. But as he picks up the pace, he pushes in further with each pump, eating up the way you’re enjoying it.

You lie back flat, spreading your legs even wider, each knee pressing against the bed. As you lie back, he’s able to get a much better view of your sopping wet cunt as well as feeling it.

You’re so wet, and for him. He wonders if you’ve ever thought about him this way. If you’ve fantasized about the two of you in this position. He hasn’t. Not until tonight. And he’s kicking himself for just now realizing how hot you are. He’s always found you attractive, he has eyes, but never sexually.

Up until now, you’ve always been just a friend to him. But now he’s itching to get inside you, desperate to know what your lips look like, what you look like underneath your dress. He wants to rip it to shreds with his teeth until you’re in your underwear. He’ll then rip apart your bra until you’re naked underneath him, whining, begging for you to fuck him.

His fingers are pumping so hard and fast as you moan and whine, your nails digging into the bedding underneath you, not even trying to stifle the sounds you’re making considering that there are other people in the house, but it’s not like they can hear you anyway. The stereo is up too loud and they’re all too busy mingling.

You can feel your eyes rolling into the back of your head, on the verge of an orgasm. You feel his fingers curl, hitting just the right spot to make you climax, to make you feel better than you ever have in the bedroom.

He clearly knows what he’s doing as he curls his fingers again and again, making you moan over and over until you’re absolutely spent. Once he’s, he removes his fingers, licking up the slick from his fingers as his well deserved reward and now that he’s gotten a taste, he thinks he needs another, but this time directly from the source.

Steve looks down between your legs, his mouth watering as his need to get a taste of you intensifies. God, he wants it so bad, so desperate that he’s drooling, spit dribbling down his chin.

“Can’t believe this is all for me,” he tells you as his hands rest gently on your knees. You’re so wet now that it’s trailing down your thighs and before he can stop himself, Steve grabs hold of one of your thighs. He brings it to his mouth and licks the trail all the way up until he’s just inches from your cunt.

You gasp as he does this, but you can’t deny how good it feels, especially when he goes for another lick, his tongue leaving behind a stripe of spit as he does so. He then goes for your other thigh, doing the exact same thing, but going slower now, chuckling to himself as you squirm underneath him, begging for him to eat you out already.

“Alright, relax,” he tells you as he pulls away. He pushes you back down onto the mattress, keeping his hands on your shoulders as he leans in, his lips just inches from yours. You close your eyes, expecting a kiss, but when you open them, Steve’s on his knees again, grabbing hold of your thighs.

“Steve-” you sit up to look him in the eye, to show him how upset you are by his teasing.

“Yes, honey?” He asks, that mischievous glint in his eye as throws your legs onto his shoulders. You instantly melt at the nickname then lie back again. He’s got you right where he wants you and you know it. He still doesn’t seem to understand that you’d do anything he’d say because you’re just that much in love with him.

He buries his face into your cunt and you gasp as his mouth licks and sucks on your clit, your hands subconsciously sliding into his hair. He pushes your dress up to your waist as you push down into your cunt even more. Steve decides right there that if he’s going to die like this that it’s a pretty fucking good way to go.

You let up and tug on his hair instead as he continues to lick and suck on your clit. Your heels are digging into his back as your toes curl in pleasure. You’ve been eaten out before, but not like this, never like this.

He’s definitely done this before as he knows exactly what he’s doing, knows exactly how to make you feel good. His mouth moves down to your slit as he bites down, his teeth sliding across the sensitive skin as you moan, your nails digging into his scalp in response.

Your thighs press tightly against the side of his head as he continues with his teeth, biting down even harder, making you feel so good. He then goes back in with his tongue, needing yet another taste of you, desperate for it.

This is the best pussy he’s ever tasted and he’s fully content right now, deciding that he could do this for hours without getting tired. Especially with how you’re reacting to the whole thing.

Steve sticks his tongue inside you and that’s where you absolutely lose it. You’re coming again and he can your slick leaking out onto his tongue. It’s the sweetest thing, almost resembling candy and he can get enough as he swirls his tongue around, desperate for more.

You come one more time and he’s reluctant to remove himself from you, but he has to if he wants to continue. He pulls away from you as you orgasm one more time as sits back on his knees, watching you, thinking that you’re the most beautiful creature that ever was.

You reach out for him and he’s quick to take your hands, bringing himself down to hover over you. His lips hesitantly press against yours as his hands pin yours against the bed.

The kiss is messy, clumsy at first, but the two of you eventually get the hang of it as it becomes progressively more hungry, especially on your end. You need him. You need him in ways that are concerning. And if his rock hard cock is any indication, you think you’re going to get pretty lucky.

His tongue slides into your mouth as you move to untuck his shirt from his jeans. He parts from you only to let you slip it over his head and as soon as his shirt is on the floor, his lips are on yours again, even more hungry this time as he takes exactly what he wants from you.

Your hands move to his belt and unbuckle it quickly before moving on to the button of his jeans. Before he knows it, you’re unzipping them and pulling them as much as you can. Steve reaches into his pocket for a condom and tosses it to the side before finishing the job, tossing his jeans to the side, followed by his underwear.

You always knew he had a big dick, but now the proof is right in front of you. He’s so hard and all you want is to make him feel as good as he made you feel. You want to make him come over and over, to return to favor.

He then helps you sit up then reaches up and unzips your dress with ease, pulling it up over your head. It drops next to him as he stares at the pretty, black, lacy bra you’re wearing.

“God, you’re perfect,” he sighs as he stares at you, almost completely naked, and for him.

“You’re the perfect one,” you reply and Steve doesn’t know why he feels his cheeks heat. You’ve complimented so many times, but this time, it feels different. “Now c’mere,” you waved him over and he scoots closer as your hands cradle his face.

You press a kiss to his lips as you feel around the mattress for the condom. Once you have it in your hands, you push Steve onto the mattress before straddling his waist.

“Now it’s your turn to come,” you tell him as you rip the packet open with your teeth. Steve watches you roll the condom onto him then discard your bra before settling yourself onto his cock, not even giving him a chance to think before begin to ride him.

His hands move to your waist as his hips buck against yours, the two of you working together. He’s working harder than you are, pushing all of himself inside of you, or at least, trying to.

“Hey,” you tell him, taking on an authoritative tone and he immediately stops. “You don’t have to try so hard. Let me take care of you, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods then lies back, his fingers still digging into your waist as you pick it up again. He’s already moaning so you know you’ve gotten it right, already knowing what he likes.

You continue, moving even faster and his nails are digging so far into you that you’re sure that he’s going to break skin, but he quickly eases up, probably sensing that he’s hurting you.

“You sound so hot. Wanna make some more sounds for me?”

“Mhm,” he nods and he moans again as you lean over, your lips finding his once again, moving against his so softly which juxtaposes how you’re fucking him so hard.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he whines into your mouth, already feeling he’s close which is so embarrassing for him since you’ve barely started, but he can’t help it. You’re just fucking him so good that he doesn’t think he’s not going to be able to walk afterwards. And he doesn’t even care. He wants you to do whatever you want to him. He wants to be your good boy.

“I knew you liked it rough,” you laugh as you watch him come completely undone underneath you. He’s already coming and he can’t stop, his orgasm completely taking over his body.

“Fuck, so good,” he whines as you keep up, trying to get one last climax out of him before you get off, watching him come down from it as you hurry to get dressed, but he reaches out and grabs hold of your waist, stopping you from going any where.

He discards the condom then gets under the covers, holding the blanket up for you. You get in beside him and he pulls you to his chest, bare skin to bare skin as he drops a kiss to your forehead.

The two of you lay there in the quiet, his hands moving up and down your back while yours plays with his hair, the only sound that can be heard is your breathing as the two of you think about nothing except what you’ve just done.

“Do you think we could do this again tomorrow night?” He asks, breaking the silence.

“Definitely,” you nod.

“Do you think that we could do it as a couple?” You move that you’re hovering over him, trying to make sure that you hear him right. There have been too many times when your fantasies took over so now you want to be one hundred percent sure.

“What did you just say?” You ask, maybe a bit too harshly and now you’ve got Steve stammering.

“Well, I was wondering if it would be okay if I was your boyfriend. Is that a tacky thing to ask after sex? Because I-”

You cut him off by pressing your lips to his, smiling into the kiss as his hand moves up to cradle the back of your head, his smile mimicking yours as you pull away far too soon for his liking.

“So is that a yes?”

“Of course it’s a yes,” you roll your eyes, giving him another kiss before lying back down on his chest.

[beans-core]

Some batkid reactions to being hassled by the press and other PR related shenanigan (inspired by this post by @timdrakewhump, it got the brainworms shmoovin)

(edit: added a cut here because DAMN this post is fucking LONG and I know it’s clogging up other people’s pages too)

Dick: the humble founder of the batkid “troll the press” train, so he has a lot of experience and stories. As a kid, he charmed the pants off of everyone but was a handful to interview because he kept going off on random tangents. And it was just. the most unrelated and weird shit ever, like his favorite species of beetle or how he used to think when he was little that all clouds were pollution so he hated cloudy days. Things so off-topic it was practically unusable material. Bruce once asked if it was on purpose, and Dick responded “sometimes!”. He’s also the king of petty but ultimately inconsequential pranks because of growing up where he did, a place where the job was bringing joy and entertainment. If someone was an asshole to him (or anyone really) in his presence, they’d better prepare to be on the receiving end of the most manipulative, career-devastating smackdown delivered by a pink-cheeked, gift-to-the-world, curly-Q babychild— who’s now got tears running down his face because of them. It’s joever. This performer stuff helps when he’s trying not to get caught (ex: the pranks). As an adult, he wears the most butt ugly outfits (even to “important” events) but can dress stylishly if he wants. That’s usually how the press will notice which events Dick actually cares about, and Dick utilizes this to get better coverage on the more meaningful events. It’s fucking hilarious when ppl can't even really comment on the outfits because even if the clothes aren’t great, Dick somehow manages to make it look decent. When he’s out casually in public, he’s notorious for wearing shirts with puns and dad jokes on them. The shirts started ironically, but now it’s a whole thing. He gets them as presents too, Tim giving him shirts that have horrible brainrot on them. Additionally, when someone is more comfortable talking in a language other than English and Dick can speak it, he’ll switch over. But the flip side is that he knows the best insults in that language too, so if you piss him off, his roasts are both more accessible, personal, and devastating.

Jason: Snuck books to read into boring events like clockwork, and Bruce never really tried to stop him. (It’s hard to be upset at your kid for reading of all things, especially when you’d rather be doing the same too.) But Jason’s favorite activity was spreading lies and slander. He dragged everyone into it whether you were kind or bitchy, and had barely any limits. (Dick was really proud, even of the particularly wicked rumors, but tried not to show it too much else Jason go wilder.) Jason has the most fun with the gossip-distribution method of old-rich gossips who are just incapable of shutting the hell up— it’s like one big maze traversing the social cliques and making a plan of action. He gets to map out how it all works and then find the best way to wreck it, and he lives for it. Overall, he made up such an astronomical amount of bullshit that photographs were practically the only thing the paparazzi could reliably use. And even then, Jason still trolled them by wearing the same type of common plain hoodie over every outfit out in public (when he wasn’t at some special event). Present day (post-death), anytime Jason goes into the manor (not often if possible), he sneaks in. Absolutely refuses to use a door. One time, someone gets a blurry picture of Jason sneaking in, and the figure is visibly packing heat. The person who got the photo went to the police immediately, and it sent the media into a frenzy. Bruce had to make up some story about an attempted robbery and how the (non-existent) security guards he’d hired were able to take care of it. Jason thinks it’s the funniest thing ever, and can barely keep his face blank whenever he remembers it. Tim got the articles/papers printed and framed as a gift, and Jason begrudgingly accepted it (it’s proudly displayed on a shelf). He’s also secretly pissy that he can’t blatantly make up rumors for the gossips anymore because of the whole “being dead” thing.

Tim: holds grudges to hell and back if you’re not a loved one. If you happen to be more than just an average-everyday amount of douchebag and mess with him or someone he cares about, he’ll make sure you know he dislikes you by basically passive-aggressively harassing you back (when it won’t have immediate/future bad-time consequences). It’s obvious he’s being unkind only to the person/people it’s directed at, and it’s an art form Tim has been honing since the age he first understood what ‘passive aggressive’ meant. One example: once, some person said how odd it was for Mr. Wayne to keep taking in children who looked like him and “forcing them” to take the Wayne last name. The man said it in that condescending tone of people who try to imply something’s “wrong” with you without actually saying it (you know what I’m referring to). Even though Tim was visibly disgruntled in the video, it was still published. (Tim hacked the site, unpublished, and deleted the recordings out of spite… but it’s the fact that they did it in the first place!) So now whenever he sees that news station he refuses to answer them until they address him by “Timothy Wayne” (his last name is hyphenated and he doesn’t mind answering to either— usually). When Tim’s not in the mood to be passive about his aggression, he’ll just fuck with rude ppl anonymously. Hacking to mess with files/programs, deleting important info, digging up dirt and publicizing it, recruiting Jason’s help to concoct a fake scandal (Jason tries to pretend that he doesn’t love the chaos but he really obviously does), and other ways to constantly annoy/inconvenience them. Tim also accidentally adopts Jason’s habit of scoping out and analyzing the famous gossips of Gotham. It was something he’s been proficient at as a kid out of necessity, but he actually gets into it when he becomes Robin, beginning to view it like one big puzzle he can solve and use to his advantage. As a child, he’s not in the immediate focus of the news as much as you’d think. The Drake’s keep him out of the way unless he can be useful somehow (PR mostly— the Idealistic Loving Family tactic and Cute Kid Distraction are utilized often). (This becomes Pretty Boy Distraction and Desirable Man Distraction as he gets older.) They think that controlling his media presence is easier than doing damage control if he makes a mistake, as all children tend to do, which inadvertently ends up protecting him from some of the more despicable side of modern media… as long as he doesn’t seek it out himself… but as we know, Tim Drake is a very curious kid.

Damian: the perfectly behaved Wayne child, but rude without realizing (of course he realizes, but the press doesn’t know that… or won’t mention it, at least). The Wayne family PR team has long-standing beef with this kid and has had to put up with him repeatedly for PR training and other PR nightmares of his creation. He refuses to act childish in front of the media unless it’s for a mission or some other gain. (He can look like the cutiest patootie on command now, but it’s something he had to work on in his PR training, unlike some of his other siblings who have charm oozing from their pores.) The only thing that reveals Damian’s discomfort to those who know him is how he’ll stay near his family members' side, following them around like he’s stuck with glue. Once he got overwhelmed by a sudden crowd, and didn’t notice one mic coming his way until it was shoved in his face— he reacted instinctively, punched the mic (it goes flying), and ducked low into a fighting stance next to Bruce. The others poke fun until they realize he’s genuinely upset he couldn’t stay calm, so they don’t mention it again. Even though Damian loudly rebukes and scoffs at his family’s shenanigans against the press, he still secretly wants to be included. So, when he doesn’t want to be talking to someone, he’ll slowly shift into speaking Arabic and pretend not to notice. More than half the time, the listener will feel too awkward to point it out and will find some way to leave the conversation. Dick takes him to his favorite dessert place when he does this for the first time, and brags about Damian finally joining in on the family tradition all day, so he keeps doing it.

Cassandra: leans heavily into the “can’t speak” thing that she’s been mistakenly assigned just so she doesn’t have to talk to the press as much or be a center of attention. If someone does approach her she just stares at them with wide unblinking bug eyes until they back off and/or are distracted by something else. But really, she isn’t even approached that often because she sneaks around everywhere. When she is found, it’s because she feels like teasing someone that day. (It’s a bonus when her family gets all giggly seeing her mess with the press because yeah, it’s practically a Wayne family tradition at this point.) Also, everyone knows by now that Brucie will unabashedly raise hell to defend his loved ones, so even years later, when media people are like “okay wait shouldn’t she be able to talk by now??” they keep their ignorant mouths shut lest Bruce Wayne descend upon them with the power of a thousand suns lawyers. Misinformed media-people assume she’s deaf or hard of hearing all the time because of her use of sign language, and sometimes, in the spirit of trolling, she’ll feed into it indirectly. Because if you’re calling over to her for a comment and she happens to not answer, it’s your fault if you “connect the dots” and assume she didn’t hear you because she’s deaf/HOH. This also leads to her getting away with absolutely everything, because she’s a (assumed) deaf woman which means she gets infantilized, meaning she can obviously do no wrong! /s It would piss her off more if she gave a fuck about what the media thinks, but she really doesn’t, so she just uses it as another tool when she wants to cause havoc.

Duke: doesn’t get bothered too often compared to most of the others, and subsequently doesn’t give a fuck. Was offered PR training just in case by Bruce and he took it, but he could hold his own just fine before. Sometimes he’ll get approached by those sidewalk interviewers as Signal, and if he has the time he’ll stick around to quickly answer a few questions because he finds them funny. He’s always terribly vague though, and taken out of context you just have no earthly idea what he’s on about. Clarification? Duke doesn’t know her. As someone who hangs out with a family consisting of some rich white people who are often in the public eye of other rich white people, he likes to make the annoying ones squirm by interpreting everything they say to be offensive, just. Fucking with them until they’re panicking, having mini heart attacks thinking of the PR nightmare they’re gonna have. “So young man, do you think you’ll go to college?” “Why do you ask? Think a black kid wouldn’t be able to?“ “I didn’t—” “Think I’m not as capable as anyone else?” “NO no no of COURSE NOT—” Damian, Cass, and Dick think it’s genius so they take inspiration from him and do it too in their own ways. Duke usually goes straight from Bat Business to the manor, entering from the batcave but when he does visit normally, he’s pretty discreet. All that to say that when he’s first noticed hanging around the batkids + co. it’s in public areas. There are definitely some rumors going around because Duke hangs out with them like all the time. the media are left wondering where the fuck another kid came from, why Bruce hadn’t introduced his new kid, etc. Bruce comes out with a vague summary story to get the majority of the press (the ones who didn’t bother to do more research) off dukes back, and after a while, they go back their normal level of invasive.

Stephanie: will get pissy if someone calls her Bruce’s child but won’t deny being part of the family. Loves to spread misinformation like Jason, but it’s only ever fake news about herself. At one point, half of Gotham is convinced she’s some estranged Wayne (some third cousin, or was it second?) and the other half thinks that she’s the secret affair child of Martha Wayne (even though the timeline zero sense). She drives the celeb-focused conspiracy theorists bonkers by introducing herself by different names, bringing up fake relatives, sharing absurd fake stories, etc. Then, she’ll throw in an absurd truth, someone will connect the dots about that one thing being real, and it’ll start another conspiracy frenzy because wait, if that’s true, what else is??? She's also mastered how to use makeup to make her features look different for undercover missions, but will wear it out in public too so it makes sneaky pictures and videos look doctored/fake. One time, she applied some fake facial prosthetics too for fun, and a paparazzo got into hot water for trying to pass off a picture of ‘some random woman’ as Stephanie Brown. She decided to frame the best of those articles written (framing “best-of” incidents is kind of a thing now). She’ll always be excited when one of the bats comes to her asking her to disguise them for a mission because they all know that the price of her work is that she gets free reign of what the disguise looks like (as free as you can be within the mission parameters, but she finds a LOT of little ways to entertain herself).

[cupidkenji]

Gnaw

Now Playing: Gnaw - Alex G everything I knew was looking just as it should Pairing: Nam gyu (player 124) x AFAB!reader CW: smut, oral (r receiving), choking but not in a freaky way he literally chokes reader to get them unconscious (no somno), kidnapping kind of (he takes them back to their house), knifeplay 💀, restraints being used (reader's wrists are tied), noncon technically but again mentally reader is into it, toxic ex bf, he's really whipped tho, minor bloodplay, undertones of sadism, lokey father figure vibes from Nam gyu (i'm so sorry), probably kind of OOC, university AU Summary: After that night, you ran. You should know by now you can never get far from him. Disclaimer: Reader is always thought of to be chubby/bigger when writing but I do my best to not physically describe reader at all with stuff like skin tone or body type. Anyone can read this as reader is not depicted but if there's a slip up please let me know. <3 WC: 3.7k (again) this is a part 2! read part 1 here.

the worms are eating away at my brain i am going crazy. please for this story just imagine you have one of those bed frames that are individual bars w space in between them instead of like one solid thing. also i really need to start writing these earlier in the day so i have the energy to proof read them. i'm sorry for my sins have mercy on me.

The sunlight seared through a pair of shitty motel curtains, attempting to penetrate your shut eyelids. It was the sixth day you were waking up in a scratchy bed on the run down side of your already dirty town. It was the sixth day you would spend missing him. 

You knew it was wrong, immoral to even think of returning to the man who had done such a thing. Who was clearly at a place in his life where he could do such a thing. Even through all the intellectualizing of his actions, the pleading you did with yourself to be disgusted, you weren’t. You knew it the second he cleaned you up and went to sleep, and it was terrifying, so you ran. As soon as you were sober, you ran to the only sanctuary you could afford as a college student who was also renting an apartment and a vehicle. You had already overstayed your welcome, knowing that the six days would cost you more than you wanted to shell out. You didn’t know how long you planned to be gone, originally fleeing the scene to be able to think. It was only proving more difficult as the days ticked on. You’d come all the way out here to talk yourself into hating him, only to carve out an even bigger space within yourself that he was to occupy. You missed him. The more you thought about it, the more apparent it became, and that just pushed you to stay longer. To wait out the bruising feeling eating at you the more you forced yourself away. 

You skipped class, not daring to step foot on campus lest he be waiting for her. The thought made your head fizz, a horrified and excited feeling mingling as they wrapped around the nerves in your stomach. Just the possibility of seeing him overwhelmed you, but you were simultaneously sick from the distance. You were sick of your surroundings, too. The walls were gray and stained, and you feared the hygiene status of the bed you were sleeping in. You hadn’t had much time to pack when you’d left, grabbing miscellaneous clothing that had yet to be put away and shoving it in a backpack. You hadn’t brought a blanket or a pillow, something you regretted. The suffocating nature of the beige room prompted the nightly walks you’d been taking. It was a bearable temperature, and the full perimeter of the building provided a decent amount of ground to cover. You hadn’t grabbed a charger, leaving your phone dead and you bored. Without any artificial stimulation to occupy your head, you took notice of the normally unnoticeable aspects of such a place. There were bits of a wired fence on the right side of the parking lot, the few lamps that lit the outside up had security cameras on them that didn’t work. You couldn't sleep one night, so you’d gone to look at them, finding that when the cords reached the end of the pole, they’d been haphazardly cut. It looked rushed and frayed, like a child had done it with safety scissors. It was deceiving, truly. There was no safety in an already dim parking lot. 

On tonight’s walk, you mulled over the date you’d return by. You still needed to graduate, and realistically, you couldn’t avoid your life forever. You were getting progressively more tired, sleeping less each night you stayed, missing the comfort of your own bed. The ground was uneven and cracked under your shoes, reminding you of the gray, crumbling building you were supposed to retrieve your roommate from. Reminding you of him, how stupid all of this was. There was a familiar smell in the air as you rounded a corner, nearly back to your room. It was distinct, heady and musky, as if you were back on that street and looking up at the flowing smoke again. You did your usual observation of the desolate asphalt full of empty parking spots.

And what the fuck were the odds?

He was already looking at you, the end of his cigarette glowing orange as he took a drag, like a sniper taking aim. He was a mere silhouette being poorly lit up by a streetlight that barely worked, but you knew. It was this feeling of magnetism, the same way he knew exactly who he was looking at, you felt the world around you melt, the air around you became irrelevant as your eyes locked on him. There was another man there, leaning against the hood of his car with Nam gyu right next to him, taking no notice of you as he spoke. You couldn’t make out his words with how far away you were. The man you’d been avoiding making little sounds of acknowledgement while being completely trained on you, posture relaxed and comfortable. He found you.

His friend nudged him, mumbling something and standing up. The both of them walked back into what was presumably the man’s room after snuffing out what they were smoking. You didn’t even register your legs beelining for your room. You threw whatever you had into the backpack you’d brought. You needed to get the fuck out of here. It was an unfathomable cruel move from whatever higher power was in charge of this situation. The two of you were being forced together like sand and water. He was everywhere, no matter where you were he would inevitably catch up. Maybe it took him three months the first time, but clearly he was done waiting. You rushed the check out process, not knowing how long his friend would keep him occupied now that he knew you were here. Maybe he wouldn’t even care. The thought made your stomach twist, but still, you needed to go. Your car seemed like an endless walk from the front doors, parked in the corner closest to your room, dark and unsuspecting. In such an empty place, you didn’t want your car to sit illuminated, as if advertised. This motel had a reputation, and you wanted to keep your means of travel safe. 

Your hands shook slightly as you hit the unlock button on your keys, yanking the handle to the backseat and throwing your bag somewhere in the back. It was just clothes, you didn’t care if it rolled around or hit the floor during the commute to wherever you were going, you just cared about getting out. The slam of the back door shutting seemed louder than what was appropriate for such a bone-deep silence for this time of night. Opening the driver’s side, you barely had enough room to squeeze through before it was being shoved closed from behind you. On impulse, you tried to turn around, startled and drowning in adrenaline; but before you could, the crook of his right arm encompassed your neck, tightening like a snake who was readying the prey for consumption. Your hands shot up, grasping his forearm with a futile grip, as if you could will his arm away from you. The pressure on your windpipe was bleeding black into the edges of your sight, static mingling with your hearing as your head got lighter. You could hear quiet shushes and reassurances coming from the man behind you, as though talking a child back into sleep after a nightmare. You dug your nails into the fabric of his sweatshirt as a weak sob barreled out of your mouth. He only pushed a little harder, pulling you into him. The proximity comforted you despite his actions, and you used the last little bit of energy you had to condemn yourself, body going limp against him after the last internal inquiry of what the fuck was wrong with you. He had also noticed the camera situation, knowing that his actions would go undocumented in the empty little place. He walked you over the passenger seat, hauling you in and buckling you up like a kid in a car seat. He started the route to your house, it was a Friday, your roommate would surely be out. He knew she was barely ever at the house, after staying there on and off for two years, he thinks he could probably count how many times he saw her sleep there on one hand. It wasn’t a long drive, twenty minutes or so, and you’d be home.

–

The normally disarming lamplight of your bedroom reeled in your consciousness from the void it had been thrown to. It didn’t feel particularly calming - not now. Your head was on your pillow, a focused Nam gyu diligently knotting a rope around your wrists, bundling them together and lacing the restraint through your headboard. Your neck felt bruised, sore and pulsing with a light pain as the blood rushed to your head. Your legs tensed on instinct, noticing the motion was not detained. He hadn’t tied your legs. You tugged once at the rope, testing the endurance just as much as you were testing your own strength. Your muscles felt nearly atrophied, the action making an ache ricochet through the oxygen-depleted muscles. Your whole body felt tired, heavy. Your exhale was shaky, slowly deflating from your lungs as if your body was made of stone. 

“Oh, good.” He double checked the knot, tugging once to solidify it’s hold on you before standing up to look down on you. “I didn’t know how long you’d be out.” He sounded so casual, as if instead of choking you unconscious and dragging you home, he’d simply carried you in from the car after you’d fallen asleep in it. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Your voice was quiet and gravelly, like your throat was coated in sand. Your lip trembled at the feeling of being so close to him. God, you were like a fucking puppy; can’t even be away from him for a week without turning into a weird sentimental puddle upon seeing him again. “Please untie me.” Your eyes watered as you spoke. You’d barely been awake five minutes and you were on the brink of tears. Pathetic. 

His eyes flicked over your face at the sight of your eyes welling up, a little glint of something familiar sparking in them for just a moment. “I can’t.” He shrugged, imitating disappointment at the notion. “You keep running from me. How are we supposed to resolve this if you can’t even keep still?”

Resolve this. Your eyes closed at the words, attempting to stop the tears from spilling at the thought. You’d left him for a reason. It was repeated over and over in your head like a mantra. You had to stick to it even if you couldn’t remember what the desire to be away from him felt like. Even as your chest heaved slightly with panic, you hoped he wouldn’t move. You hoped he would keep talking just so you could hear his voice, be near him. It wasn’t a rational wish by any means, but you could feel the intensity of it in your fucking bones with how consuming it was. 

“I’m not a patient man, honey. I waited for so fucking long.” He leaned over your dormant frame, putting one knee on the bed and moving his other to mirror the motion, effectively pinning your hips down under his weight. “You know, it wasn’t even your roommate who wanted you there. She just left her phone unlocked, and I knew you’d show up if she asked.”

“What-” Your words halted in your throat as he drew a pocket knife from the pocket of his sweatshirt. Jesus.  “Please - you don’t understand-” 

“Relax.” The word was chuckled slightly as he cut you off, like the panic that shot through your eyes at the sight of the blade in his hands was unjustified, like you were being irrational. “I think I was too selfish that night, hm?” The look he was giving you felt like it could kill you if he really wanted it to. Intense and suffocating, full of excitement and devotion. “You clearly hadn’t been touched in months and I got ahead of myself.” He shook his head slightly as his eyes looked over you, your chest was moving quick and shallow as you breathed, stomach tensing as he lifted your shirt up just an inch, caressing the skin above the waistband with his thumb. It barely even seemed intentional, as if his hands subconsciously drew themselves to you, needed to be touching you. 

Any urge you had to respond kept dying before it could be expelled. What do you even say to a situation like this? He was so at ease, explaining himself like a truly remorseful lover would. To anyone who didn’t know his inflection, that’s where it would end;  but you were so in tune with him, you could hear the edge of entertainment that his words carried. Maybe he was sorry, maybe he just liked seeing you unsure.

“I’m gonna make it up to you.” Your breath stumbled as he said it, your wrists grating unconsciously against the confines. “But it hurt my feelings when you ran like that.” He put a hand to his heart as he spoke, emphasizing his words. “So I’m gonna hurt you a little, too.” You felt the point of the blade make contact with the skin that his thumb had been smoothing over minutes before. It was enough to make the first tear fall from the corner of your eye. There was no pressure, just the threat of his words ringing true. Even in this scenario out of most peoples’ nightmares, you still didn’t think he’d truly hurt you, not irreparably. He’d always had sadistic tendencies, you even sometimes - shamefully - thought about the potential that was undoubtedly lurking beneath the surface of his presentability. He could get mean sometimes, especially when he was high, but never like this. He was sober, you could see it in his eyes and the way he moved. He just wanted to do this, wanted to be in control. 

He could practically feel the mesh of emotion seeping from your veins, taking longer than necessary to talk just to watch you soak in it. “Just enough to teach you some manners, honey.” His thumb trailed a line of pure heat along your jaw. “Don’t worry. You’ll probably even like it, knowing you.” 

A weird feeling jolted through the active nerves in your stomach. It was such a direct callout, based in certainty that he carried in his voice. You felt caught, recalling all the times he most likely knew exactly what you were thinking. Another tear streamed down the side of your face. 

The steel in his hand glistened in the low light of your bedroom, the sharpness of it being dragged down the fabric of your shirt, severing the only semblance of modesty you had left; the material draping open and bearing your skin to him. You’d been practically ready for bed by the time you took your walk, foregoing any additional coverage underneath the shirt, leaving all of you vulnerable to the exploration of his eyes. He pushed the sagging cloth to hang more off your shoulders, grazing his hands over the naked parts of you. It was gentle, restrained, like he couldn’t bear the time it would take to touch all of you because he needed it that badly. 

You felt the sting of an opening wound a second later, a whimper barely fleeing your throat. It wasn’t deep, he didn’t push hard. His lips parted as the blood rose to the surface of the small cut, pooling within it and releasing a single drop to pour down the side of your stomach. Before it could gain traction, he smeared the runny crimson, letting the liquid coat the print of his thumb. His pupils dilated at the sight, his breath coming out shakier than he’d like as his blood seemed to thrum in his veins. 

Your face twisted at the feeling, molten lava pooling in your stomach and burning you from the inside out. You felt hot, immune responses and arousal both running rampant in your body. You’d never felt more awake. He lowered his head to your exposed collarbone, brutally reminiscent of the night that predated this one. “See? Not so bad.” He led his hand up to your mouth, palm skimming your side as he hovered his thumb above your sealed lips, muttering out a request to open your mouth for me and you did because he was inexplicably intoxicating. Your tongue was coated in bitter metal combining with the discreet and slight flavor of his skin. You felt dizzy. 

He mouthed down the expanse of your upper body, leaving patches of your skin shiny with his saliva and stinging from the occasional love bite he would leave. He marked his places of affection with small cuts, each one sending a wave of warmth lower and lower, fanning the flames down to where he would ultimately end up. He would kiss over each future scar he left on you, a bloody comparison to your relationship as a whole, his actions making your heart ache and your back arch. You had been trying your hardest to stay quiet, trembling exhales being the only thing you couldn’t suppress; but he had a way of wearing you down in the most pleasurable ways imaginable, gradually building you up to the whimpers that were slipping past your crumbling resolve. 

With caring hands, he pulled at the waistband of your pants, folding them out from under your hips and bending each of your legs forward to get them fully off of your legs, laying them back down once he had. The room felt colder than it ever had. He stared with pride at the state of your perpetually clenched thighs, groping at the tense muscles. “What’d I tell you, huh?” He tucked the blade of the knife under the seam of your underwear, pulling up and slicing clean through them. “I don’t know why you want out when you like it so much.” Cutting the other seam, he let the fabric slide off of you, discarding the shreds of useless hindrance and taking in the full sight of you. 

You didn’t know why you ran either. You did like it. You liked it so fucking much that it scared you. Maybe it was a fear of feeling good, or a fear of what this kind of connection would inevitably do to you, what kind of a man he was. You’d tried to leave him and ended up panting, wet skin glistening and covered in gashes; and the worst part was you liked it. How the fuck could you like something like this?

He left various other claims of territory on your thighs. Teeth marks, nicks from the knife, worshipping kisses of a man in love. Everything action committed against your wanting flesh had so much emotion laced in it that you could barely take it. You were overwhelmed, your brain half shut down, only stopping itself from going dark because then you wouldn’t be able to feel him, to accept what he was giving you. 

He pushed your thighs out of their locked state, soothing over the irritation littered on them with his thumbs and his lips, dulling the sting with an even greater ache that was bleeding directly into the center of you. You felt like he’d lit you on fire. 

The tip of his index finger scorched a line up the place you’d been anticipating, shamelessly gliding in copious arousal that had been pooling since you saw him leaning on the hood of that car. It was a touch that seemed to pump life back into you, invigorating and familiar. Something you missed so much that you were sure you’d never be able to fathom the depth of it. He cursed, quiet and breathy; and you groaned at the feeling of friction, even if it was just a little. 

His mouth on you was sudden, but not rushed; the spontaneity of it forcing a gasp from you. His actions were calculated, arms wrapping around your thighs to keep you open, malleable and pinned. His hands were tense on your legs, fingers digging in tight as if he was struggling with his own internal grievances. You weren’t sure if it was restraint, or desperation, or something uncharted between the two of you. It was scary to think that something could be undefined right now, that maybe he was lost too. 

The warmth of his mouth on you after already having your body thoroughly overworked nearly knocked you unconscious for the second time that night. Your head was as thrown back as it could be given the state of your arms, chest reaching for the ceiling. Your poor wrists burned in the grit of the rope, but it only seemed to add to the peak you were being pushed to. He brought his index finger to sweep through the bountiful wetness in between your legs, this time pushing in and curling up, his second finger joining soon after. 

“Gyu - please -” The nickname was so domestic, something that hadn’t left your lips in months but seemed to feel as natural as breathing in this moment. The loving tone hit him like a wave, drawing a reflexive groan from his mouth. His eyes were practically black from how much his pupils encompassed the iris, his own eyes looking a little watery as a less extreme mimic of yours.

“Missed the way you taste.” The auditory affirmation paired with his fingers and his mouth sent you toppling. His fingers never let up, his mouth detaching to plant light kisses on the bone of your hip, looking up at your breathtaking form with an awestruck gaze that you couldn’t see through your closed eyes and tilted back head. 

You panted, thinking it was over. Maybe he’d fuck you, or maybe he would make you tea and the two of you would finally talk about things. He just moved his soaking fingers up to your clit, your body jumping slightly at the sensitivity. 

“Wait-” 

“Shh, just take it.” He spoke low and moved back to where he was, starting again when you had barely started coming down. His declaration of making it up to you rung in your ears. How long was long enough to be considered even? You writhed with overstimulation as you thought about it. Ten minutes? Thirty minutes? An hour? Your second orgasm hit you hard in the middle of your useless inquiries, and you realize it didn’t really matter.

You were in for a long fucking night regardless.

𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃❮𓁿❯𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃𓂃

tags: @mitsxuri @citarnosis @namgyunation (tagging you lovely folks because you all mentioned wanting more content. please let me know if you want your @ removed and i will do it ASAP <3)

[illubean]

Sex Ed !

Characters: Satoru Gojo Type: NoCurse!AU, Oneshot, Gn!Reader? (will explain in warnings), NSFW reader discretion advised

i got the initial concept from this post by @reignpage and added my own twist ^^ also I'm lwky a little embarassed by this so uhh yeah..

Warnings: NSFW, might be considered monster fucking?, reader has alien anatomy and therefore has parts that resemble both female and male reproductive organs because it's my fanfic and I said so, Gojo a bit of a loser perv

Satoru Gojo never expected for a giant space rock to land in a forest trail near his home. He especially didn't expect to come across it on an evening stroll, only to realize that this thing wasn't a rock at all.

Curiously, Gojo climbed down into the crater created by the initial impact of the thing. Upon further inspection, it seemed to be some sort of metal pod, a large tinted window shielding him from seeing what could be inside.

Before he could step closer, the glass window popped open, teal smoke seeping from the inside as a person crawled out of it.

Wait, a person!?

As the smoke cleared and the figure stood to their feet, he noticed the faint glow emitting from your skin as well as the two, long antennas sprouting from your head. You were clad in tight garments that only really covered your private bits.

Your outfit didn't leave much to the imagination.

Gojo was slack jawed at the sight before him. There was a totally gorgeous otherworldly species standing mere feet from him on a random tuesday afternoon. This was a nerd's biggest dream!

Your large eyes blinked open as you took in your surroundings before your gaze landed on the snowy haired man nearby.

You blinked at him a few more times before your clueless gaze morphed into a wide smile.

"EARTH!"

Finally breaking out of his tranze at the sound of your voice, Gojo closed his mouth and straightened his posture.

"Umm yeah, this is Earth.."

Suddenly, you were far to close for comfort, nearly touching noses with the shocked man, studying every detail of his face.

"Human!" you say excitedly, poking a finger into his chest.

Stepping back, you bring your hands up to gesture to yourself.

"Me Y/n. From (insert fake planet name here)!"

It was obvious that your knowledge of human speech was limited. Gojo didn't really know what to do in this situation, thinking of ways to talk to you when his eyes landed back on your space pod ship thing.

"You can call me Toru. Maybe I can help fix your ship?"

Your body stiffened at the word "ship" before you took off to frantically search for a strong, sturdy object. After finding a sizable rock, you ran back towards the previously mention vehicle and raised your weapon of choice above your head, bringing it down to repeatedly smash the control panel.

Gojo watched in shock, confusion evident on his face while you dusted off your hands and turned back to face him.

"They track me and take me back," you explained, expression souring at the thought. "Me stay with Toru?"

Gojo didn't really know what he was getting himself into, but what he did know was that he couldn't deny you when you had such a sweet look on your face.

"Sure, I guess you could stay with me."

It's been months since Gojo met you. In that time, he attempted to teach you grammar and about different things that you had questions about. You were learning fairly quickly, but there were still times where you would slip up and use certain words incorrectly.

That's alright though, it makes you, you.

You spent most of your days lazing around Gojo's home, reading different food labels or the back of his video game cases while you awaited his return from work. Soon you began to grow bored, running out of things that piqued your curiosity in the finite space. Noticing this, Gojo decided to introduce you to something he might grow to regret later.

The internet.

Your white haired companion was oh so nice enough to write down the pin to his pc down for you, allowing you to use it however you wished while he was away.

Typically you played simple games like snake or scrolled through coolmath, occasionally searching for and downloading random images like "8 leg water creature" or "cool galaxy wallpaper".

But today, it seems Gojo forgot to close one of his tabs before leaving.

Twitter

With a curious gaze, you mindlessly clicked away, scrolling through random threads and looking through different tags. One thing led to another and you ended up under a specific tag which you had no clue what it meant.

NSFW.

While scrolling through, you were met with various different displays of the naked human body, some even of multiple humans interacting with each other in ways that were vaguely familiar, but still enough to fill your mind with questions.

At the familiar sound of Gojo's keys jiggling in the door knob, you bolted down the stairs and began dragging him up towards his room before he could even get a word in. Ignoring his questions and protests momentarily, you stop in front of his computer and point to the screen.

"What that?"

The man's eyes nearly popped out of his skull when he looked to the screen to see that you've managed to discover Twitter porn.

Quickly he shut off the monitor as you stared up at him with wide, curious eyes.

"Uhhh, that's nothing!"

"Tell meee," you whined, yanking on the sleeves of his hoodie and shaking him lightly, urging him to explain what you just saw.

"Well, when two people love each other very much-"

Never did Gojo ever think he would be giving someone the sex talk, let alone an alien that quite literally fell from the sky not too long ago. A very attractive alien, at that.

"And that's how babies are made. Some people just do it for fun though..."

Your face lights up at the word 'fun', immediately alerting Gojo.

Damn it, he shouldn't have mentioned that part.

"Let's do, Toru! Let's have sex!"

Satoru has never felt this embarassed before. He was sitting against the headboard of his bed, cheeks were dusted a shade of pink as he avoided looking at you, settled between his legs and staring at his crotch so intensely. And the worst part was, he was the only one naked.

What kind of ecchi shit is this!?

You watched in awe as his shaft began to stiffen under your gaze, looking at it from all different angles, fascinated by the human body. Grabbing his length, you moved it up and peeked under his balls as if looking for something.

"Only one hole?" you asked, taking your finger and tracing a line down from his balls to his asshole, gently prodding at the entrance.

He yelped at the sensation before swatting your hand away, finally looking down to meet your wide eyed, inquisitive gaze.

He huffed in embarrassment before muttering a response.

"What does that even mean? But yes, human men only have one hole.."

You got up from your position between Satoru's legs, shimmying off your shorts and shamelessly presenting your, now naked, lower half to him.

You sat back with your legs propped up and spread open, revealing something resemblant of a human vagina and a large, blue, tentacle like apendage mounted where the clit should be.

Satoru couldn't believe his eyes. You looked like a scene straight out of some pervy manga that he read on occasion; never did he think that it could be real.

"All my people have same parts. Male and female."

Satoru's boner quickly became painful, the lewd image of you sprawled out in front of him causing all his resolve to snap. Without a second thought, he grabbed you by the waist and flipped you on to your back, pushing your thighs to your chest and positioning himself at your entrance.

"You said you wanted to have sex, right? Then let's stop wasting time."

You yelped as he slammed balls deep into you, the slick sound of plap! plap! plap! punctuating every trust. Your juices coated his cock making it impossibly easy for him to reach all the way inside of you.

Letting out a string of whines, your large pupils were practically heart shaped while your skin began to glow a faint shade of blue.

You've never felt sensations like this before.

Satoru wasn't faring much better. A buzzing heat settled across every inch of his skin, balls growing impossibly tight upon feeling you. Not only your sloppy hole drooling around his cock, but your length wiggling between your bodies.

The appendage secreted a syrupy substance, the color matching that of your luminescent skin, which clung to the both of your tummies which created sticky strings that kept the two of you together. Satoru adjusts his position, letting your legs fall to his sides and wrapping his arms around your waist in order to pull your front flush to his. Without warning he kisses you, swallowing your mewls and relishing in the feeling of his lips on yours.

Despite not completely understanding what was going on, you accepted it, back arching up into him while your hands go to tangle themselves in his ivory locks.

"Fuucckk baby, feel good? 's your Toru making you feel good?" he asked, one hand coming up to grab your face as he looked deeply into your eyes.

"Mmfh, Toru! I...I feel...hot!"

The glow of your skin began to intensify and your whole being felt as if it were set ablaze. Satoru's cock caressed and kissed places you hadn't even known existed before, causing the coil inside of your core to tighten.

"Yeah? You feel hot right here?"

The large hand that was once gripping your cheeks was now resting beneath your belly button, applying minimal pressure that was still enough to evoke a loud moan from you. You nodded profusely in response to the man's question while his pace intensified.

Your senses were overwhelmed with pleasure, and not knowing what to do you wrapped your legs around Satoru and tightened your grip on his hair in response. A shiver runs down his spine and his hips stutter at the sensation. His bodyweight slumps into you, face burring itself into the crook of your neck. Your touch had him feeling weak.

With you tugging on his hair and the insane grip your other worldly pussy had on him, Satoru wouldn't be able to last much longer.

"Feel funny," you said, meekly. He felt your body stiffen underneath him, instinctually trying to clamp your legs shut around his hips.

"Relax for me," he cooed, planting soothing kisses up the side of your neck and underneath your jaw. "'ll take care of you, okay? Promise."

Trusting his word, you try relaxing back into the mattress while he continues to plow into you. Your mewls and moans began to increase in volume until your body reached its peek, juices gushing around Satoru's length while more spurted against both of your tummies.

Feeling your cunt practically weeping around him set Satoru over the edge, his own release mixing with yours and dripping to pool in the bedsheets underneath you when he pulled out.

Both of your spent bodies lied still, your blue glow settling into something more faint while the both of you panted.

"How was it?" Satoru asks you, suddenly feeling shy. You stayed silent, which alerted him. "...Y/n?"

Before he could sit up to check on you, with tremendous speed you picked up his lean body and slammed him onto the mattress underneath you. A wide smile was spread across your face while your energy buzzed with excitement. The poor guy was barely able to comprehend what happened before you spread his legs and positioned yourself in front of his puckered hole.

"Me turn!"

I am not confident in my smut skills at all bear w me...

[heart-writesss]

it had been 2 weeks since you originally met connie. you guys had been casually texting which turned into being on the phone multiple times a day. conversations just flowed so easily between you guys. it was never a moment of awkward silence for you guys. connie loved your positive energy and hearing you ramble on about the things you love. hearing your sweet giggles over the phone weren’t enough anymore he had to see you soon.

you were at home tidying up when your music paused meaning you were getting a phone call. walking over to the phone you say it was connie calling. you smiled big before answering.

“hellllloo pretty girl.” connie cheeses when you pick up the phone. he loves seeing your smile whenever he calls you little petnames so he makes sure to do it often. he was sitting at home bored and just wanted to hear your voice. “so what are you doing?” connie asks and you begin listing all the little things you had to do around the house. water your plants, mop the kitchen, do some laundry but nothing too crazy. before you could finish he says a set of words that almost make you audibly gasp. “so do you think i could come over? y’know just to hang out.” and before you could think about it you had already said “yes.”

it was 2 hours after you and connie had spoken and 1 hour until connie was supposed to show up. from the moment you hung up the phone you’d been freaking out. connie in your home was absolutely mind boggling for you to process but you had no choice but to get ready. you took a shower with all your best smell goods and did a little shaving for extra precaution. not that you planned on doing anything crazy. this was a simple friendly hang out. right. you put on a pair of black oversized sweatpants and a white tank top. as you were refreshing your curls you heard a knock on the door involuntarily you squeal. looking in the mirror you double check your appearance and take a few deep breaths. it’s kind of embarrassing that you were so nervous about a guy coming over at your big age but it had been a while.

you and connie were sitting on your couch with the tv playing but neither of you were paying it any attention. when connie first came in it was crazy to see this tall man covered in tattoos in your pretty pink apartment. he came in and admired your decor he thought to himself how he couldn’t have imagined a more you looking home. all the little knick knacks and plushies everywhere suited your vibes so well. it was just very cozy. sitting across from you on the couch he was able to admire your features better than over the phone. the way your cheeks looked when you smiled or laughed. the way you spoken with your hands. the intense way you look at him when he’s speaking showing you’re really listening. you had connie feeling a way he had never felt before. and it was just the beginning.

“why are you looking at me like that?” you ask connie who’s been staring at you as you rambled on about your doll shelf that was by your tv. he was watching you talk with a look on his face you couldn’t decipher. “no reason.” connie responds with a smile. a few beats of silence linger in the room.

“c’mere” connie almost whispers. without protest you made your way towards him and he took over having you straddle his lap. you and him sat face to face. you were certain he could probably hear your heart pounding in your chest. despite the nerves you felt your bodies seemingly fit together perfectly as if you had been made for each other. connie’s hands roamed aimlessly across your back and over your hips somehow ending up underneath your tank top. still no one broke the silence. when connie looked as if he was going to say something you took a leap you were surprised by yourself. you leaned forward and pressed your lips to his. it took connie no less than a millisecond to catch up and follow suit. your hands made their way around his neck and your hips began to against his. pulling apart to catch your breath you look at connie and get out a breathy , “hi.”

connie had officially accepted you were going to be his and you knew in your mind you wanted the same.

[33max]

3 times GP uses the force to speak to Max | 1000ish words of padawan max and master lambiase ✨

“Max,” Gianpiero sighs, “would you mind?”

It takes Max a moment to understand what his Master is talking about, Max hadn’t been doing anything… copiloting is boring and he had completely zoned out while Gianpiero navigated them around the fourth moon and into the nearest hyperspace lane. Max was just daydreaming about getting back to the temple and finally having his own quarters, away from his Master, where he could- oh.

“Sorry,” Max blushes, looking over at his Master and shifting in his seat uncomfortably. He can suddenly feel where the leather belts are digging into his shoulders and his groin.

It’s embarrassing how often this happens. He shares a strong training bond with his Master, as most Padawans do during their Jedi training. They can share thoughts, feelings, and even images across the bond when they concentrate – Max both loves and hates it, especially when GP insists on cracking the most ridiculous Dad jokes directly into Max’s brain in the middle of briefings from the Jedi Council.

Max does try to shield his personal thoughts from GP, but he’s not very good at it yet. His peers seem to have mastered this skill, and his Master worries that Max is not practising enough. GP is probably right, Max is very good at shielding from others, but his bond with GP is too strong… when he shuts it out it feels like part of him is missing. So he doesn’t shut it out.

“It is okay, Padawan,” Gianpiero smirks, “It has happened to us all.”

“It doesn’t happen to you,” Max groans. His Master never shares anything without intending to.

“No,” Gianpiero laughs, “but that is because I practised shielding from my master, Max.”

Max glares at him.

“Don’t look at me like that,” Gianpiero says, calmly. “You need to practice.”

“I don’t want to. I don’t like it. I like having you there.”

“I know, Max, but it is an important skill that you must learn before you can become a Jedi Knight. Not to mention I do not want to be sent indecent thoughts of Padawan Leclerc while I am flying.”

“You could have let me fly,” Max says, shaking off the embarrassment of GP witnessing some of his more lewd daydreams.

You can fly when you practice your shielding.

Max frowns. “Fine.”

—————

If there is one thing that Max knows he’s good at, it’s lightsaber combat. He knows all of the lightsaber forms well, he can fight in any of them, and he knows that he’s the best in his class. Padawan Leclerc is very good, especially at Djem So, but Max refuses to lose. Especially to Charles because Charles is good at everything. Even hyperspace theory. All of the Masters love Charles.

Anyway, Jar’Kai comes naturally to Max. And he’s not just good at it, he’s the best.

The first time he had tried Jar’Kai, he knew. He felt it in the force. He didn’t even have to think about his next move, his body already knew it, and the force hummed around him pleasantly.

He was practising Ataru with his Master, and Gianpiero had looked at him, tilted his head, and said “You’re fighting like something is missing. Maybe you should try a second blade in your left hand.”

And then Gianpiero was handing across his own blade for Max to try.

“Are you sure?” Max asked, holding his Master’s weapon so carefully. The hilt was still warm from where Gianpiero had been gripping.

“Of course,” Gianpiero laughed. “Come on, let’s set up the training droid.”

The moment Max ignited both blades it felt right. One orange blade and one blue, glowing in each of his hands. He had found his lightsaber form, but it was not just that, holding his Master’s ignited blade he felt like he was two halves made whole.

“It suits you,” Gianpiero commented as Max took his opening stance against the training droid.

Guess we found your form.

Can you feel that, Master? The force…

Yes, Padawan. I can feel it. ——————

“This sucks,” Max shivers.

It has been three days since their ship crashed in the middle of fucking nowhere on an ice planet of all things.

He is sick of being cold. He is sick of having to light a fire to defrost ice to have water to drink. He is sick of eating ration packs. He can’t feel his toes. He wants to go home.

“Sharing a tent with me or being stuck on Hoth?” Gianpiero asks, amused. He’s way too relaxed for someone who might freeze to death soon.

Max doesn’t blame his Master for the crash, not at all, very few star pilots could have avoided being shot down by the seventeen vulture droids that the separatists had sent to ambush them. He just can’t help but be irritated at his Master’s inhuman ability to stay completely calm and level-headed about their current situation.

“Both,” Max says, curling up further into his sleeping bag and turning his back on his Master. This isn’t the time for jokes.

“Max…” Gianpiero says, “Someone will come for us.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do. I can feel it.”

“You said that three days ago.”

“And I was right three days ago.”

Max lets out a frustrated scream into his stupid too thin and slightly damp pillow. He is sick of waiting for a rescue that might not be coming.

Padawan, come here.

“No.”

Max, you’re cold. Come here.

“I am not cold,” Max says stubbornly, even though his teeth are chattering.

“Padawan,” Gianpiero sighs. You don’t always have to be so strong, part of being a Jedi is being able to acknowledge what we are feeling and be vulnerable before letting that emotion go.

Max’s eyes water. He’s fine.

His Master must feel Max’s misery in the force, because the next thing Max knows he is being force-pulled, sleeping bag and all, into his Master’s arms.

It startles a laugh out of him. “Master!”

I’ve missed this, you’ve not snuggled your old Master in years.

I’m too old for this.

You’re never too old to be comforted, Max. Remember that.

[mrs-monaghan]

Not to go into detail and make this long but I remember how a while ago, I was in your blog and I came across you saying;

But, it is of my personal opinion that if they broke up it would destroy JK. Jimin would be heartbroken and devastated too but it would hit JK harder.

And now that we found out Jungkook was the one to sign up for the buddy system and wrote Jimins name for who he wanted to be his partner.

https://x.com/thekmlogic/status/1881424425972814167?s=46&t=DiZ6pHHxW3ahpd70quaKnA

And it really does prove your point to a whole other level. Not that I needed another reason to believe it but because this type of love doesn’t exist for “just friends” and I’ll never know why or how people don’t see it.

We seen how deeply not having Jimin there effected Jungkook. The man was crying on live..

They went on vacations for AYS together, even back to Juju Island again, without V. Who knows about Busan after the last Juju trip.

They could last 18 months away from friends, family, ARMY, but never each other.

That’s why they’re still out and about together even on vacation.

https://x.com/stopkookminpls/status/1882055760152347025?s=46&t=DiZ6pHHxW3ahpd70quaKnA

Vmin. JiHope. Namkook. JinKook.

(My baby, Yoongi isn’t an option.)

So many close friends in BTS who could have went together. Nobody but Jikook went together. Is that not a sign something is different compared to the others?

Anybody could have went with Namjoon seeing how bad he’s struggling to be happy but no.. At the end of the day, this is just more proof on how real their relationship is.

Oh yeah! 1300% So many reasons to believe in Jikook but enlisting together... that was... that was definitely something. From what I've heard, K-taekookers stopped existing after get out of your imagination happened. Then we lost more vermin after GCF. Matter of fact many of them became jkkrs. (Unfortunately that's also when so many more were created thanks to tkk-lives, but whatever) Then more were lost after Rosebowl. And some more left after the talk during ITS 1. and of course we lost a good number after the Taennie walk in Paris. A few more left after AYS dropped but not enough stopped shipping tkk when Jikook enlisted together. But if you ask me, this is what should have had them all leaving fr fr. This... enlisting together was no small fit. Not only has it never been done before, but they really didn't have to. You know? Like u said, RM too should have enlisted with a member if it doesn't carry as much weight as we jkkrs think it does. Know it does.

It was a huge risk they took but they did it anyway because to them it was necessary.

JIKOOK👏🏽IS👏🏽MOTHERFUCKIN👏🏽REAL!!!👏🏽

So, anon is talking about this post. And while there are deeper reasons connected with their enlistment, we already know how bored JK can be without Jimin. We've seen it

(Thanks @chicknbunny13 😘)

Sidebar: boyfriend V is right there on his phone doing nothing and yet, JK is bored out of his mind. Hmm 🤔✍🏽✍🏽✍🏽✍🏽

We've seen it with every single time he came live only when Jimin left the country, talking about how he got bored and missed us.

JK is a lying liar who lies 😂 but we forgive him. If I had a Jimin I would do the same 🤣

So back to your tweet, anon. My friends and I did suspect that that's what the numbers on their helmets meant

But there was no way to be sure. All we knew to be fact was that it had to have been JK's idea.

What i love about being a Joker is that, we are never wrong. We have earned the right to be cocky. You know what I mean?

It's what happens when you actually stan the real couple. Couples, have patterns. That's why the vermin are always changing their stories... nothing about being a tkkr is consistent. Their theories change overnight depending on what they discover or decide to make up that day.

Meanwhile, Jikook are predictable because they are the true couple. And that's why when we make guesses we are rarely ever wrong.

Thanks for the tweets anon. Support Jikook for clear skin

Damn, they're fine as hell!

[thus-wrote-mrs-zeppeli]

Hear me out Jofoes with a Reader whose stand that can temporarily bring people from the dead or Jofoes and how they treat Reader when they are sick? Since you needed some requests/ideas related to them. There you go, i can try to come up with more ideas if you want!

I am HEARING you out and I like I like I like. Gonna go with sick reader~

Jofoes x sick reader

Content: some relationship power imbalance and mean behavior, dating/married/undefined but romantic depending on character

Characters: DIO, Kars, Yoshikage Kira, Diavolo, Enrico Pucci, Funny Valentine

DIO: He can’t catch anything from you because he’s not human anymore but…you’re boring when you’re sick and miserable and only want to lay around in bed all day recovering. It was funny at first, watching you whine and sniffle and ask for his attention, but after a day he’s ready for you to be back to normal.

He’s definitely not a caretaker and will not be playing your bedside nurse. At most he will make Vanilla Ice tend to your needs, and only if you’re Really sick, but otherwise he’s not gonna dote on you.

You better hurry up and heal. He’s growing bored of you when you can’t do anything but sleep and complain about not feeling well.

Don’t expect him to spend much time with you like this, and even though he can’t get sick from you he won’t be spending his day with you because he finds your sniffling and coughing annoying and distracting. He tells you that you’re not allowed to get sick again for the entire extent of your relationship with him. You’re really not sure how you’re supposed to make that happen…

But you’ll try-

Kars: He also can’t get ill from any of your human illnesses…but he will take you getting sick as a perfect opportunity to once again observe the frailty of humans, and tease you a bit for your weakness.

You’re not sure if he’s trying to get in your head or just playing with you when he pulls your sick, sorry self into his lap and begins telling you about how he’s never been sick and wants to know if he should be concerned for your life while you battle the common cold. You can try to match his sass, but you interrupt yourself with a pathetic cough.

Ugh. He thinks it’s So funny. Your body is trying to heal itself, and yet you look and feel miserable…how ridiculous.

He’s not going to be a doting and caring partner, but he will spend some time watching over you and observing your condition. Not so much a silent guardian watching over you, and more so a haughty bully teasing you with his arrogant gaze. When you’re feeling especially clingy due to your sickness, he’ll lay your head in his lap and talk to you.

You should feel honored he’s spending time with you, especially now that you’re even weaker than usual. Fortunately, he finds you entertaining, so he’s going to make sure you’re safe for a while yet.

Yoshikage Kira: He’s a bit annoyed when you get sick, because if it’s bad enough he has to take a few days off work and take care of you. And he’ll be even more upset if you get him sick too, so he takes care not to catch whatever you’ve got.

He greatly dislikes the interruption to his routine, but since he has no choice, he will adjust to sleeping on the couch for a few nights so you can keep all your sickness to yourself in the bedroom.

He’ll tend to you, making you soup and keeping track of your medicines for you, but sometimes he doesn’t hide how irritated he is, especially if you stay sick for a while. As soon as you’re able to get out of bed and get stuff for yourself he’s back to work, leaving you to fend for yourself.

But he’s still paying attention, making sure you’re taking proper care of yourself and getting better. His mood will improve as your health does, and once you’re back to normal, he’ll be back to normal too.

He understands that getting sick is just a normal part of life, but please, try not to get sick often. It’s frustrating to have to tend to a needy spouse for a few days when he could be focusing on other things.

Diavolo: He’s a bit annoyed at you, like you chose to get sick just to hinder him for a week. He can’t move you around as easily when you’re too ill to leave bed for long, so he’ll begrudgingly tend to you.

But he’s not a gentle man, prone to impatience and frustration…so he’ll try for maybe half a day before deciding to just let Doppio handle you until you’re less miserable and easier for his fragile nerves to deal with.

Doppio’s…fine. He’ll just get you whatever you request, and chat with you a bit if you really want. Your health is a priority.

The Boss would like you back to normal as soon as possible. Staying in one place too long makes him agitated, so hurry up or he’s gonna give you a hard time.

His example of that is pacing around your bed and nagging you to take your medicine and get over your sickness. And he doesn’t talk very gently to you ever, but it’s especially stressful when you’re sick and he Still cannot take it easy on you.

He’s so damn selfish, sheesh-

Enrico Pucci: He doesn’t feel like catching whatever you have, but does feel that sense of duty to ensure your recovery is comfortable. He’ll try to be outwardly patient with you, but you can tell from his mannerisms that he thinks he has something better he could be doing than tending to a needy, sick spouse.

He’ll make sure you have what you need to be okay stuck in bed for a whole day. Water, healthy snacks, medicines and painkillers…and if you really need anything else that you can’t get yourself for whatever reason…then just call him. He’ll be a little irritated if he has to abandon whatever he’s doing at Green Dolphin Street Prison just to tend to you…

But he knows you can’t help it. And it’s not like it’ll last forever. So he’ll put up with it for now, but please recover soon. He’s not used to you needing this much attention.

Funny Valentine: It’s super easy for him to deal with you when you’re sick, because he can just bring some alternate universe versions of himself to tend to you while he carries on as usual.

He’s not worried about you, and he’ll only check on you when he begins to notice your absence. Such as when he’s been working on paperwork for a while and you haven’t checked on him, since you’re recovering in bed.

He gets bored taking a break from you while you’re sick. He liked you because you were interesting…an escape from stuffy offices and irritating politicians breathing down his neck all the time…

Since he doesn’t have to worry about getting sick, he’ll give up on using this opportunity to be more productive and instead try once to spend some time with you while you’re healing. But like he suspected, you’re boring when you just sleep all day and complain about feeling bad in the few moments you are awake. You won’t be seeing the real Funny often when you’re being“boring”, which he openly calls you when you’re sick.

Unfortunately for him, making alternate versions of himself take care of you made you grow real tired of seeing his face, so by the time you’re feeling better you’re already planning a nice long vacation that he’s not invited on.

-

I’m so serious when I say Diavolo would be SO annoying lol. And Valentine. And Kars. Annoying men, smh.

[venusentranced]

can you write smth abttt sunghoon who acts so cool and stoic in public but is actually the biggest clingiest crybaby who acts so good for his domme ?? 🙏🙏🙏

i will always push the good boy hoon agenda!

parties and events have never been sunghoon's favorite thing in the world, he tends to just linger around the quietest area he can find or follow you around wherever you go. he didn't really want to come but the promise of you in a tight dress and his friends in attendance made him come along anyway. the party was hosted by jake who wanted to throw a party for valentine's day, heart themed decor and pink and red alcohol, love is in the air, or at least that's his goal. sunghoon was standing behind you in the kitchen, spaced out and waiting for you to tell him it was time to go home. "let's dance," your invitation sits in the air for a moment as a song by jeremih plays, "you go, i'll be here." his voice is pretty quiet in comparison to the loudest of the stereo but you shrug it off. you disappear into the crowd to find some of your friends and enjoy the music; the large house isn't exactly packed but there is certainly enough people to cause you to bump into a few people along the way. around the kitchen island friendly (and invasive) banter took place, casual conversations about the progression and failure of each other's relationships, the vitalization of their sex lives, and other topics of drunken discussion. "what about you, sunghoon?" there's no harm in jay's question, his hand placed on his friend's shoulder, sunghoon lets out a scoffed laugh. your relationship is the longest of the bunch, three years and some odd months, you live together, you've settled into domestic life with one another very well. "it's good, nothing much to say about it." the guys all chuckled at his lack of details, "wow, are you that boring?" jake teases while pushing sunghoon gently, a few more playful jabs are taken at him and his vagueness. truth is, there is a lot he could say, but it's nothing he wants to share, not out of shame or cowardness but out of protecting the sanctity of your relationship and his safe space. he wants you to come back, to come rescue him from answering these questions and he wants to go home, it's been a few hours and a few drinks—he's ready to leave. after a few minutes he decides to go find you, you're still with your friends but he's sure you wouldn't mind going home. he greets you with a kiss and whispers in your ear, "can we go home?" the buzzing feeling of someone talking in your ear makes you giggle and you grab his arm, "you're that impatient?" your voice is seductive and playful, he wasn't impatient but now he is and he gives you a nod before pointing to the exit.

the bedroom is dim and sunghoon is holding onto your waist like his life depends on it, you're trying to turn the light on but he won't let you go. "baby, let me go," your laugh is so sweet to him and he just shakes his head against your shoulder. "i can't see you in the dark." at the realization that he can't see you in the dark he backs up a little, hands still on you like they're glued. you search the wall for a moment before the white light stuns you both momentarily. "need you, now." he's short and straight to the point despite you just getting home, putting kisses along your neck and the back of your ear. you manage to pry his hands off of you and he whines rather loudly, "what's got you so impatient, hm?" you ask while gesturing him toward the bed, he sits down without a word and just stares up at for a moment. "i just need you," he reaches out to hold you but his attempt is failed and that upset him. "got asked about you, saw people staring at you, can't i just think about you?" your head turns slightly to the side as you get within arms reach of him, you card your fingers through his hair and his eyes are fluttering closed. with a short quick motion you're pushing him back a little bit to straddle his legs, sunghoon's head hits the mattress and he already feels like he's going to explode. your weight bears down on him, leaning down to kiss along his jaw and neck, your hand snaking up his chest to gently hold his throat. a whimper escapes him and you can't help but smile against his skin, he's returned to holding onto you but his time he's gripping your hips like you're about to vanish into thin air. you sit up to peel his shirt off and undo do his belt, he looks like a mess already—his hair is everywhere, his eyes are watery, his lips are pouty, you wanted to burn the image in your mind. you place a small kiss on his lips and that's all it takes for tears to start spilling, "awww, what's wrong, baby?" sunghoon always does this, he's easily overwhelmed and when he wants something—he needs it. "i need you." he answers with a shaky voice and you almost feel bad for not having the ability to move at the speed of light. you hand slips under his jeans and he takes a sharp inhale, taking over of his hands to cover his face, he's not allowed to do most things without your explicit permission and you've come to know that his only form of self restraint is preoccupying his hands. your hand works it's way up and down his covered dick and he needs more but he doesn't want to sound demanding or bratty so he just mewls quietly, balling his hand up into a fist and holding your hip just a little harder. "are you my good boy, sunghoon?" he's nodding his head as fast as he can and before you can scold him, "yes, i'm your good boy!" you tap his hips and he automatically lifts them up for you, pulling both his pants and his boxers down to get to where you want to be. a shaky inhale fills his lungs at the cool air on his fevered body, his tip has formed a small sheen of precum that’s been spread around by his boxers and there’s another bead forming. you return your hand to his throat and use your free hand to tease the sensitive tip. sunghoon is normally very vocal, but when he’s really worked up, he’s borderline pornographic; his loud opens followed a loud and erotic moan, he bites down on his lip at feeling of you poking at his slit and swiping your thumb around and across the entire top. after a few moments of collecting the sticky slick substance, you begin to stroke him slowly, his eye squeezing shut with shiny crystal-like tears flowing from the corners of his eyes. “can i-” he’s interrupted by a groan shattering its ways through, “touch you?” if the room was any quieter you may have missed his question. “of course you can, babydoll.” when you could see his face again you wasted no time to kiss him, the combination of your hands and the kiss sunghoon was a mess; hands on your chest and trying to pull your dress off at the same time, he was lost.

“let me help you.” you rid yourself of the dress and slowly removed your bra and panties, sunghoon gasps when you sit back on top of him—you’re wet and it only furthers his need. a strangled moan escapes him when you begin rocking back and forth at a pace that can only be described as agonizing. his hand sneaks down to rub small concise circles on your clit and you let out a breathy sigh, “you really are such a good boy.” sunghoon gets off on your praise. he timidly takes your hand and places it back on his throat causing you to let out a small laugh at his eagerness; you apply more pressure than you previously had and his eyes fall closed almost immediately. the sound of your bodies rubbing against each other has become noticeable, sunghoon is panting like a dog and you can tell by the relaxed open mouth expression he has on that he’s getting closer to his release. you stop moving and he whines in response to the lack of stimulation, yet he continues to works his fingers. there’s a pause to take him in before you readjust to push him in and sink down, he lets out these beautiful breathy moans and tiny gasps at the feeling. tears spilled out of his eyes again and he mutters out an “i love you,” you kiss his cheek and repeat it back to him, you’d never miss the weak smile that adorns his face. “are you going to be good and make me cum?” your pace is moderate but your force is not, the mixture between his fingers and him inside of you is just right. “yes!” he nodded along, trying his hardest to focus on you and not the overwhelming urge to fall over the edge into complete bliss. sunghoon moans in a way that is so melodic, he lets out little whimpers and whines every now and again but he’s mostly a symphony of “pleases” and “ahs.” you never know what he’s asking for when he says please, he never gets further than that, but he just sounds so pretty begging and it comes so naturally for him. you can feel the sensation in your stomach like a rubber band about to snap, leaning down you kiss sunghoon and he attempts to return the kiss but he’s sloppy and messy trying to do so many things at once. you place little pecks along his cheek to his ear, “you can cum, you’ve been a very good boy.” he’ll never get tired of hearing that phrase. he lets out a small monologue of “thank yous” as he finally falls down the pit of pleasure. even in the middle of and after completing his orgasm, he continues to work at you until you too are in the pool of ecstasy. a messy, sticky pool of pure adoration and physical satisfaction.

this came out kind of long, i am very sorry but i hope it lives up to your desires! this is also not proofread… i’m sorry

[godhandler]

Tokyo Day 

| s. geto x reader, mentions of n. zenin x reader, infidelity, angst, fluff ending, geto is an unstable maniac in love as he was created to be, porn with serious plot, 1.7k words, part 3 |

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The Modern Japanese Suite at the Tokyo Ritz is the one that matches closest to the Jujutsu High school dorm rooms, as far as Suguru could glean from his offhand perusal of the rooming catalogue. 

“It has a well serviced dining area,” he tells you. “Private enough for a fugitive.”

You’re catching your breath from the long walk, slumped over the foyer sofa. “You’re anything but one, Suguru, you’ve never even tried to hide.” 

He smiles. “I was talking about you.” 

Ever the gentleman, he leads you up to the 53rd floor, having waved off the bellboy. The Modern Japanese Suite has a huge, unending window with no curtains. Is that the fashion now? To flash your neighbours? You shrug, collapsing onto a chair immediately after entering the room. 

“Are you pregnant?” The polite, restrained, socially cognizant Geto Suguru vanishes the second the door is closed behind you. 

“Do I look pregnant?” 

“No! I just meant– Sorry, but how are you tired already? You are one of the fastest fighters we have.” 

‘Were’, you correct him in your mind. “Suguru, when is the room service coming with our lunch?” 

“About 20 minutes, why?” 

It’s just Suguru. More than your boyfriend, he was your best friend. It’s okay, it’s just Suguru. 

You toss off your overcoat and pull up the hem of your blouse, just a little, to show a hint of your belly. When he doesn’t join the dots immediately, you pull down your skirt a little too. The C-section scar speaks of a missed lifetime that neither of you can get back.

“I have to pee a lot more too.” You tell Suguru, who kneels down by your feet, his eyes set tight on the scar. “And I’m allergic to aubergines now. There’s so many small things like that. My body just never bounced back like those supermodels. I love my son, I truly do, but my body is just ruined.” 

“Not ruined.” It slips out before he can help it. Maybe he’s just blind, unable to see all the creased flabby skin over your belly or the trench-like stretch marks or the blue veins running all over. Nothing like the athletic teenage body he last remembered seeing you with. Maybe he does and cannot admire it enough. 

“Is he..?”

“...No.” You caress his cheek. Not your son. “I’m sorry.” 

“I waited for you.” His accusing eyes bore into yours. Who were you a fugitive from? Your legally married husband whom you were dishonoring as of now? Or Suguru, your destiny, who you avoided for the past decade? “I stayed unmarried and childless for 10 fucking years. Do you think I didn’t want a wife or kids, huh? You knew I did. I told you I did!” He gnashes his molars, an eye twitching in his mercurial anger. “You went and got yourself all settled down, didn’t you? Were you just playing with me back then?” His shouting drills through your skull, panic rising as you try to calm him down and fail. “Here- do you see a ring on my finger? No? Then why’s there one on yours? Where’s the ring I got you?”

“Suguru, I can–”

“Where’s-my-ring!?” 

“I–”

We’re not us. That is all that runs through your head. The shock of Suguru griping you by the collar, the sudden fear that you are locked in with a savage murderer, the dismay that you are scared of Suguru of all people. We’re not us. 

You can’t tell if he's saying ‘are you scared of me?’ or ‘aren’t you scared of me?’

All you can reply is this – “I love you.”

He would’ve banged your head against the wall at your terrible answer if he hadn’t spotted the glint of your locket tucked under your collar. A clear diamond the size of his thumbnail, teardrop shape ominously prophetic. 

He was kneeling the first time he put it on you, too. The diamond sat on a white gold ring band at the time. It glinted and glimmered all over his laughing face. You had tears in your eyes, ‘of joy’, as you claimed. 

He could not blame you for how it all turned out. His own devotion never in question, he could not point a finger at you and claim that you broke apart his perfect love story. You never wavered either. Has he not sacrificed enough? Has he not starved enough? Was it just never meant to be? 

Geto Suguru weeps into your lap, his face buried in your soft belly. 

xxxxx 

The room service folks serve the table as you watch. Suguru, now in the washroom, had ordered the menu– a recreation of your cheap student-era lunches. Rice drenched in miso, sausages that he used to steal from you, tamagoyaki, chicken karaage, shredded cabbage, two full bottles of soju. 

“The sausages are all mine!” He screams from the washroom, a lot more upbeat at the sight of lunch. 

True to the theme, there’s only one plate to eat off of. The little family diner you used to visit back then charged by the plate, so all 6 of you would order a variety of food and eat off only one plate. The owner hated watching your little troop come in. 

Suguru claims his spot next to you. Your husband’s wedding ring has been tossed under the dresser and the locket is out in full view. 

“I adopted two little kids,” he tells you, mouth full of sausage. “Twins, Nanako and Mimiko Hasaba. They’re in 9th grade, about our age when we met.”

“And how is it, raising daughters? I know that I have my hands full with my son.”

“Listen, I love them, alright? I’d give them both my kidneys. If only they would stop telling me about their school projects last minute, I would be a happier man. That’s why I’m here, actually.” He tells you all about the school trip and the canvases they forgot.

You laugh. “Mine too! He’s turning 7 soon, so he’s still in 2nd grade. Just last week I had to send people out for black chart papers in the middle of the night.” 

“He’s still little, enjoy that age as much as you can.” Suguru smiles. “They grow up so fast and then have crushes on all sorts of morons. Turns my hair grey. You can’t trust these boys nowadays. Remember how I courted you, with bouquets of flowers and lover letters? Why can’t my daughters pick a standup guy like that? They just have to pick a fool wearing Crocs–” 

“Oh, ease up, Suguru. That age is just like that. You know that before you, I had a crush on Justin Beiber.” 

“Not Justin Beiber.” 

“Can it, you snob. He’s pretty and sang well. I’m just saying that most people don’t end up actually dating their crushes!”

 “I did.” It’s a wonder that Suguru can make you blush hard as a teenage girl even at your age. “Tell me about your boy.”

“He likes to play baseball and is super into traffic lights now. I just dropped him off at school this morning. He’d reach to your knees. He was so small when he was born, we were so worried that he wouldn’t make it. Go–” You glance at him, ascertaining that the name was okay in his presence. “–Gojo helped out with his RCT.”

“Rough delivery?” 

“Very.” You shudder at the memory. “Hemorrhage and blood clots. I almost died. Gojo saved me too. Difficult pregnancy to start with.” 

It would’ve gone different had you been mine– unsaid words hung in the air. I’d be so much better than your useless husband.

“What did you name him? Let me guess, Ryuuto? You were so stubborn about that name.” 

“Ah, about that–”

“Yes?” A pause. Was it so bad that you couldn’t even tell him? “Did you name him Suguru or something? See, I would find that sweet.”

“I– he’s named Naosuke.”

“Naosuke… Zenin?” 

“Yes,” you admit, tang of shame heavy on your tongue.   

“Of all people, Naoya is wh–”

Before his blood pressure spikes again, you cut in to explain. “No! It’s not like that, Naoya is the one who started all this. I didn’t want to! I promise!”

“So you’d rather marry Naoya Zenin of all people than come to me–”

“I was tossed out of Jujutsu High after you left!” You hurry to explain before he melts into his rage again. “I had no money, no education, not even a place to live. Then mom was diagnosed with cervical cancer and we needed so much money, we didn’t even have insurance, I wasn’t well either– I started using and couldn’t stop, and then one day Naoya Zenin appeared talking of marriage. What else could I do? I had no better opportunities in life. I was just 18 then. I didn’t know any better. Everyone was dealing with their own shit. Who could’ve helped me?” 

“Me, you fool, me!” He grabs your wrist, flinging his chopsticks off the table. 

But you simply laugh in his face. “You? I didn’t want to be associated with you. Not just because of the jujutsu laws, but because I didn’t want to be associated with you. You killed innocent people!” 

“And you must be sooo happy with your holy choices, aren’t you? Getting your asshole fucked by that herpes-laden Naoya every night? Tell me, does he put his foot over your fac–” 

“I didn’t marry Naoya, alright?” You shout above him. “Naoya took me to his house for his father to approve of me and then he decided that he wanted me for himself. Naoya is Naosuki’s half brother.” 

“Don’t tell me…” 

“Suguru,” you clasp his face. “I had nowhere else to go. We needed the money.” 

For a second, disgusting images of an almost 70 year old perverted drunkard defiling you filled his head. Did he kiss your pretty face with his warty one? Hold you down while he pushed his small cock to your rosebud lips, hairy balls hanging to his knees, covered under rolls of belly fat? 

In your face all he saw was exhaustion. 

“Eat.” He chose a piece of karaage, dipped it in miso and fed you with his own hand. “We’ll talk after.” 

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[divinedelusional]

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐲 𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬

nate archibald x fem reader

word count: 1130

synopsis: you watch challengers with nate and he relates to art, which leads him to reflections about himself and your relationship

warnings: none except for small age gap (nate is 33 and reader would be in her late 20s, so they're like 5 yrs apart)

a/n: watched challengers couple days ago (ik im so late) and surprise surprise i adore art... i think nate would really vibe with his character. anyway it takes place in 2024 so nate being born in 1991 would make him 33 and probably that would be time when he is a mayor of nyc

title from the song lucky ones by lana del rey

You really didn't understand Tashi. Well, you could understand her but you certainly didn't relate to her. Of course, you never played sports professionally but you thought even if you did, you wouldn't be so driven by it to put some game above a man like Art Donaldson. And your boyfriend apparently agreed with you as he constantly was making comments about her like:

"Oh she doesn't wanna be homewrecker? Will see about that"

"What is going on with her? Like can't she just give it a rest?"

"This thing between all three of them... i don't like it, seems like type of schemes Blair and Chuck would be into back in a day, but not me".

You laughed at the last comment, running your hand through Nate's hair as he eased into your touch.

"Come here, tiger" you moved aside a little bit, gesturing to your boyfriend that you wanted him to sit closer to you. You made space for him and now he's back was glued to your chest and you could rest your chin on his head, your arms wrapped around his frame. You loved to have him like this. Not a lot of people knew that the youngest mayor of New York City, Nate Archibald, your boyfriend was such a teddy bear at home. Of course the public knew about your relationship, but it was a definition of private but not secret. As much as Nate loved to shower you with his love and affection you also loved to spoil him back. You knew how stressful his profession could be and you were always there for him, always assuring him of your love for him. Yeah, you were a total opposite of Tashi Duncan.

You also were grateful of every minute spend with Nate as you often were busy with your jobs. So to have him next to you commenting on the movie and getting excited about the plot meant a lot to you.

As the movie went by, Nate became more quiet. At first you thought that he was getting bored but that was not a thing. You tried to talk to him but he sushed you gently.

"Baby i need to know what's gonna happen"

"Okay, babe" you said pressing a light kiss to his hair.

You felt your boyfriend shifting as he moved to lay across the couch, his head on your lap and he held your hand.

"Better?" you chuckled.

"Yeah" he said kissing the palm of your hand and you knew by the tone of his voice that his mood had dropped.

Final credits rolled and usually Nate would speak his mind on what he just saw and you'd head to the kitchen to make dinner together as you usually did if you spent an afternoon watching a movie. Today it was different though.

"I'm gonna shower" Nate sighed getting up from the couch.

"Kay, baby" you answered a little confused. "What are you in the mood for dinner?"

"I don't know figure it out later?" he asked and you nodded.

You laid on your shared bed as you were waiting for Nate to come out of the shower. It was beautiful may late afternoon and days were so much longer now and you loved it. You were so stunned by the golden light in your bedroom that you didn't even notice that Nate was taking shower for twenty minutes. You sat on a bed wondering what's going on with him.

He finally came into the bedroom. Wearing beige linen pants he sported around the house. Thin silver chain with a small charm of your birthstone on his neck. You couldn't believe that this was your man. You looked at him, eyes full of love as you made eye contact with him and reached out your hand towards him. He came up to you and knelt by the bed, his head on your thighs. You didn't think that he realized that he hit the exact same pose as Art in the movie.

"What's bothering you sweetheart?" you asked running your hand through his hair gently.

"Nothing is bothering me, I've just been thinking" he said and small smile appeared on his face.

"Bout what?"

"You. Me. Us" he said pressing small kisses to your legs.

"Uh huh? And?" you chuckled as your heart quickened a bit.

"I'm just grateful you're not Tashi" he said.

You laughed and let a sigh of relief.

"Oh god, Nate" you knew what he meant just by that one sentence. Before you met Nate, he'd been in a fair share of relationships. And he always loved his partner. That didn't mean he received the same love he gave. He met women like Tashi on his way. Successful, strong women, who sure enjoyed his company but did they love him? At some point yes, but not as much as he loved them.

"Relate to Art a little bit too much huh?" you asked. He nodded. "I'm just so grateful that I'm yours you know?" he mumbled into your legs.

"And you have to remember that I'm as much grateful as you, okay? Get up here I can't kiss you"

Nate got up from his knees as he pushed you to lay on your back. He kissed you slowly almost shyly just like he did on your first date almost 6 years ago. Your pulled on his hair, which always caused him to moan. You hooked your legs around his waits as he lift you up. You sat comfortably and pressed your lips to his again. You've been kissing like that for a while, slowly gently. You've been giving his lips kitten licks like you were afraid of breaking him. Finally you pulled away. Nate laid down on his side and you did the same. You were lying like that just looking at each other for a while. You were smiling, tracing shapes on his naked chest.

"Nate I wouldn't want to live in a lifetime where I'm not in love with you." you said.

"I'm pretty sure a lifetime like that doesn't exist, I would search for you in each one of them".

You pulled him in another kiss, though you couldn't kiss him much longer as you heard small rumble.

"Guess we have to head to the kitchen" you sighed.

Later when you were chopping cherry tomatoes and Nate was setting the table you asked.

"But did you like the movie?"

"Oh yeah, it was phenomenal. Art deserve better though. A life with a girl like I have" he smiled at you. You felt butterflies in your stomach at what he said. A life. Little did you know that at Tiffany & Co. a certain custom ring was in development on request of Nate Archibald.

reblogs highy appreciated! it keeps me motivated if my work is shared♡

natie's taglist: @luluartpop @lanawinterscigarettes if anyone else wants to be added lmk

divider by: @dollywons

[thefreelancebioexorcist]

Betelgeuse fought the urge to grin at the look of abject horror that had spread across Barbara’s face at his appearance. Normally, he’d be clicking his heels and stomping his feet with glee over such a reaction to his visage. But, he only caught it out of the corner of his eye, as his primary focus was on Lydia at the moment. When he had first pulled her into his arms, he could feel her heart hammering in her chest, and he was doing his best to calm her now, running his fingers through her hair as she hid her face in his chest, and doing his best to ignore that Barbara was shouting at them—even Juno, which he knew would NOT go over well with the old bat.

“I had taken care of him, Barbara. Betel was locked in Solitary for years. He was without any contact with anyone, even his actual friends and family in the Nether,” Juno explained, still sitting calmly on the bed. “But a bond is a bond, and sticking him in Solitary for a long period of time was no good for either him or Lydia. And that ring you see on Lydia’s finger has been there since their ill advised ceremony when she was a teen. She just didn’t want to say anything to you, or anyone. She couldn’t remove it, but…Betel was gone, so what did it matter?” There was more to their bond than that and why it was as strong as it was, of course, but Juno’d leave that to Betelgeuse and Lydia to explain to their family if they wanted. “As for what he tried to do, I remember it very well. It took me weeks to file that paperwork and get everything back to normal. It was a disaster on both sides. I won’t downplay how awful it was. However, those were the actions of an extremely powerful, cursed ghost with a memory and location binding, who found himself bored, trapped, and angry. The powers that be hoped that having such a level of control over him would keep him from hurting anyone, but a poltergeist with no access to proper emotional or physical release of any kind is more dangerous than one with one. They’ll never put this in writing, of course, but those above me in the hierarchy concede that what all of you went through was at least in part, their fault, for not properly…managing Betel from the get go.”

Betelgeuse, of course, was listening to every word, though he didn’t look it, but he could multitask. Once he was sure that Lydia was calm and no longer panicked about their proverbial cat being launched out of the bag, he might jump into the fray with this situation, if only to stoke the ire of Barbara. But for now, he was content (and delighted) to let Juno handle the Maitland’s. Juno sounded calm, but he could tell even she was annoyed by Barbara’s demands.

Lydia’s shoulders became very tense at the sound of Adam’s voice at the door before Juno let him in with a flick of her cigarette. When the door shut again behind him, Betelgeuse suddenly had two more arms that rubbed up and down the tense muscles of Lydia’s arms and back. He’d half a mind to toss a peace sign at the three other ghosts and disappear off to the Nether with Lydia, but he didn’t think Juno would appreciate that very much in the long run. Now, Betelgeuse didn’t really care what Juno thought of him at the end of the day…but he’d prefer her to remain on their side of this whole thing.

“Did I know about what? Them?” She started laughing at the question, and it took her a moment to start talking again. “Yes, I did. Mind you, I didn’t place Betelwith Lydia with the hope that this WOULD happen. The bond that was made years ago with their marriage had no intentional emotional attachment on Betelgeuse’s part or Lydia’s. He just wanted out. And with Lydia as his haunt, and the bond an his tether, he got what he wanted, with some limitations. It was a win for us. He was mostly out of our and dare I say, happy with the initial arrangement. And she could send him back to his house in the Nether anytime she wanted, if he got to be annoying. So, I kept an eye on them, naturally, making sure Betel was behaving, and then THAT happened all on its own.” She pointed at the couple with her almost spent cigarette.

“They’ve been together for quite awhile now, and you two might have noticed it yourselves if you ever stepped one foot out of your little home in the suburbs of the Nether and maybe go downtown.” Juno rolled her eyes. She really didn’t understand that Maitland’s. They worked so hard to get to live in the Nether and they seemed to have never really explored it? “He’s been bringing her over to the Nether for small periods of time and showing her the sights. Tells anyone who asks that she’s his wife.” Juno began to laugh again. “The relationship has been REALLY good for the Nether. Betelgeuse doesn’t wreak havoc on our side anymore or try to truly expose our world. He doesn’t even touch anyone unless they’ve upset or hurt Lydia in any way. And she, by some miracle, can get him to do or stop doing just about anything.”

“So, if you’re wanting to stop this…be it on your heads, Maitlands.” Juno ended with a shrug, her eyes now moving to Betelgeuse and Lydia. “Now, you two, you’ve been very quiet and let me talk…I’m both concerned and proud. Are you intending to take any negative action against the Maitland’s?”

“If Barb continues to upset Lydia, y’ can’t reallt expect me not t’ do somethin’, June Bug,” Betelgeuse answered, his raspy voice a deep rumble, as his eyes cut in the direction of Barbara. His two extra arms had disappeared. Juno just rolled her eyes at the nickname. “As y’ said…I don’t take kindly t’ people doin’ that. Doesn’t matter if they’re livin’ or dead.” Now his attention was fully on Barbara and by some small extension, Adam, though he didn’t seem as mad as his wife. “Though yer Lydia’s family…Maybe I should let her handle y’; She’s kinda magnificent when she’s pissed off.” He grinned down at Lydia.

The panic that was tightening in her chest began to subside the very moment Betelgeuse embraced her.  Lydia closed her eyes and inhaled deeply as he placed a gentle kiss against the top of her head. She gazed adoringly at him as he gave Barbara what-for, and she couldn’t help the faint smile that began to play at the corners of her mouth.

God, I love him, she thought to herself.  

Barbara, however, stood completely still, her chocolate brown eyes wide as dinner plates. Adam, too, was shocked, his jaw gone slack in awe at how this complete stranger was speaking to them as if he knew them. 

But he was passionately defending Lydia, and wouldn’t he do the very same for Barbara? Adam took note of the man’s gentle nature as he silently comforted Lydia, and how the young woman completely melted into his arms. He saw how Byron’s hand gripped Lydia’s shoulder–soft, yet with an undertone of possessiveness. As a man, he read the body language easily. It screamed “She’s mine, and you’re hurting her. This is a warning.”

Byron’s spiel ended as Charles appeared in the doorway, blissfully ignorant of what had just transpired between everyone. There was a moment of terribly awkward silence as they just stood there, not knowing how to react. 

“Oh! Uhm! I changed my mind!” Delia called out, her voice cracking a bit. She immediately started bringing out skillets and placing them on top of the stove. “How does sausage, eggs, and bacon sound? Hm? Want some toast as well? There’s orange juice in the refrigerator!” 

Lydia smiled inwardly and gave her dad a good morning kiss on the cheek. She lead Byron into the living room to sit for a bit, just so she could decompress after what had just happened. Barbara’s eyes followed them all the while, until Charles and Adam began exchanging pleasantries. 

“Thank you,” Lydia whispered, her hand finding Betelgeuse’s and giving it a tight squeeze. 

[k-martins]

Guys, I'm flirting with a guy calling him Megumi from My Yuji and it's been so fun to see his reactions when he finds out that I ship Itafushi.

[lamefish]

when fratboy!satoru takes your virginity you kind of expect him to be an ass about it. he's cocky as it is, and has a habit of gassing himself up too much when it comes to his... skills in the bedroom. if you're not listening to him talk about how he's the strongest, you're listening to him talk about how he's the biggest.

being the only virgin of your friend group was starting to grate on you and... a small part of you might've wanted to find out if there's any bite to satoru's bark. it's not like the two of you were dating or anything, but you felt comfortable enough to walk up to him one day during lunch and ask, in front of his best friend:

"will you take my virginity?"

maybe you expected him to blush. or freeze up. or at least trip over his words. but instead, the stupid white-haired prick looked up at you with the most relaxed expression possible and shrugged.

"okay."

and that's how you ended up here, sitting criss-cross applesauce on his messy dorm-room bed with his tongue halfway down your throat. a few empty cans of beer and abandoned cheat sheets lay strewn over his floor, and you hate yourself for letting this be the backdrop of your entry into the sex-having life.

but you can’t hate yourself for long because as he runs a hand up your thigh and under your skirt, you start to feel more excited than you thought you’d feel. he pushes you back, slots his knee between your thighs and bites at your bottom lip before trailing down to your throat.

still, it’s satoru, so when he pushes your panties to the side and feels just how wet you are for him, he laughs. “you get this wet when you touch yourself or is all of this just for me?”

“shut up,” you groan as he nips at the skin of your throat and gently runs his finger through your folds and up to your clit. you’re surprised he knows where your clit is, even.

and he’s not wrong—you’ve never been wet like this before. you can feel just how damp the fabric of your panties are you as satoru pulls them down your thighs and hikes your skirt up to get a clearer look at your soaked cunt.

“pretty,” he licks his lips. “wannna taste her, that okay baby?”

his eyes search yours for consent and you’re stunned for a moment as he waits for ‘enthusiastic consent’. you didn’t expect this sort of check-in from a frat boy. your nod seems enthusiastic enough to him, but just for clarity—“use your words.”

“yes. please, gojo.”

“satoru,” he corrects you. “want to hear that name when you cum on my tongue. cant believe no ones tasted her before.”

the use of referring to your pussy as ‘her’ is odd but quickly overlooked when he delves into your pussy like he’s dehydrated. tongue flat against your heat just to flex and circle around your clit. he sucks and bites a little and pulls you to your first orgasm in nasty speeds.

you cum on his tongue whilst his eyes bore into yours from between your thighs. white hair pulled out of his face by your hand as you tug the strands in hopes that he’ll stop licking at your overstimulated clit. it takes until you’re shaking for him to finally pull back and free his angry cock from his pants.

you think you gasp when you see it. he said he was big but you didn’t think he was a truthful man in the slightest. his cock is so heavy it doesn’t even stand at full mast—it fights gravity. satoru sees the look on your face and instead of sporting a shit-eating grin like you expect, he climbs over you and presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“let’s stop here?” he asks. “we could watch a movie. oooh what about die hard?”

you giggle, your nerves melting a little at his words. “i’m okay, i want this. i am not graduating as a virgin.”

satoru snorts and, after rolling a condom on, gently pries your legs apart enough for him to slot his wait in between them. he guides your ankles to link behind his back and slowly runs the tip of his cock through your slick folds. “tell me if you need me to stop,” he says. “just relax. i’ve got you, baby.”

you actually manage to relax a little, focus on the feeling of being stretched as satoru slowly pushes into you until his tip is completely hidden in your cunt. it’s uncomfortable, but not unbearable. “keep going.”

one of his long fingers dips down to rub soft circles over your clit to relax you a little more as he pushes deeper. you’ve never felt so full, so sore yet desperate for more… you wonder if it’s always going to feel like this, or if it’s just because satoru is the one breaking you open to find pleasure in your insides.

he lets out a pretty moan as he bottoms out inside of you, the weight of his heavy balls resting against your ass as he stills and catches your lips in a wet kiss. his tongue slips into your mouth, runs over your teeth and pushes against your tongue as he slowly draws out of you and then, with a grunt that you taste, snaps his hips forwards into you.

that hurts, but there’s an odd stitch of pleasure in the way he’s broken you open. “sorry,” he speaks against your lips. “it’s better that i just got it out of the way, it can start feeling real good soon. gonna make you cum on my cock, baby. you want that?”

you nod, eyes staring into his as your foreheads meet. satoru nods back, licking his lips and smiling. “yeah? you wanna be stuffed full, huh? always knew you were filthy. but i’m the only one that gets to see it.”

his arrogance pulls at your lips. “until i fuck the next guy.”

snap. his cock splits you open at that, and though you wince and screw your face us, you’re letting out moans made for porn too. his finger on your clit starts working a little faster as he draws back again just to drive into you even harder.

“no,” he dips his head down to bite at your neck. “not until you fuck the next guy. i mean you can try, baby, but it’s not happening.”

“ngh, what do you mean?”

another thrust into you sends you further up the bed. you’re sure you look a mess but satoru looks down at you with such wide blown eyes that you could be convinced you’re from the heavens. “not giving you up that easy,” he groans. “you know, i fucked someone last week just because they had your name. got to moan it without being slapped. again.”

your hand flies up to his chest, almost in an attempt to slow his now mean pace. “wait you—ngh god—you like me?”

“i’m far fucking past like,” he moans, hips starting to stutter. any discomfort has faded into glorious pleasure. your stomach starts to tighten again and you know you’re close enough that he’s going to try and time your orgasms. “you’re so perfect. so much better than i imagined.”

your eyes roll back a little at the thought of satoru fucking his fist late at night to the thought of you. how nonchalant he was when you asked him to take your virginity, you wonder if he went home last night and stroked himself to the sheer anticipation of being inside of you.

“satoru i’m gonna—”

he cuts you off with a deep kiss. it’s sex and want and lust, but it’s also soft in a way you can’t describe—maybe even a little anxious after his confession. it might just be his pending orgasm, but you swear his lips tremble between yours.

his cock throbs as he drills it into you, hits your most sensitive spot with every single thrust. it’s like he already has you mapped out, because you’re both cumming in tandem with each other before long.

a part of you aches to feel his cum spill into you instead of the condom he wears, to be claimed and filled by his seed over and over. would he fuck it back into you? clean you off with his talented tongue? would he plug you with his cock until he’s ready to overfill you with a second load?

he moans into your mouth and pulls back a little to revel in your fucked out expression. your legs still wrap around his waist, boxing him in and keeping him close. you worry that in typical frat boy fashion he’ll make an excuse and run off to recount the fuck with his friends. but satoru pecks at your lips, then your chin, then down your neck again.

“what are you doing?” you ask, vision slightly blurred from the intensity of your orgasm.

“gonna make you cum again,” he smiles against your skin. “didn’t you hear?”

“hear what?”

he pulls back to look at you, a soft smile pulling at his pretty lips. “that if you cum at least five times when you lose your virginity, you’ll fall in loooove.”

[loveanddeepdick]

nerd!choso who is so unknown at school that people go, “who?” when he’s mentioned. you’re pretty sure that only five people knew who he even was.

nerd!choso who is most definitely the president of some club like chess or dead poets society. he saw you at the club fair and fell in love

he thinks he went to heaven when you approach his table at club rush. yuji, although not in chess, was helping choso recruit people since his poor brother was too shy to talk to anyone. you go up to your friend yuji, making small talk with him.

“i’ve never played chess, yuji”, you giggled

“my brother can teach you!”

you glanced over at choso, not even noticing him at first. he was.. pretty. not pretty as in a way your friends would giggle at you when they saw you in a new outfit, not pretty as in the comments you got under your instagram post, but he was a natural beauty.

yuji had to snap you out of it. of course he noticed though, the way you two looked at each other.

nerd!choso who teaches you how to play chess, not letting the two other members of the small club play with you.

nerd!choso who helps you study, helps you carry textbooks, and helps you with midterms and any exams you have.

nerd!choso who has a nosebleed when you give him a small peck on the cheek when he finally confesses to you after months of pining for you.

you two had been studying in his dorm, comfortable with each other as your head was leaning against his shoulder as you two relished in each other’s presence.

“i like you.”

“oh! i like you t—“

“no. i like you.”

you turn to him. a small smile creeping onto your face. you didn’t say anything, only pressing a short kiss on his cheek. he immediately freezes up, his hands turning clammy and sweaty.

“i—uh..”

then, a trickle of blood comes from his nose, dripping onto his cupid’s bow.

“oh my god, cho!”, you gasped as you jump up, running to grab a tissue from his nightstand where he also kept a picture of you two and a bottle of lotion

you leaned in, wiping his nose attentively. as you chide and nurse him while mumbling, choso can’t help but stare down to take a peep at your tank top. he could see the valley of your boobs and the top of your bra. he choked, letting out a startled gasp before his eyes rolled to the back of his head.

he knocked out cold on the spot

nerd!choso who keeps a special picture of you in his wallet. he’ll be at his chess club meetings, at lectures, out with his family, and he keeps a hand on his wallet, knowing you’re in there.

the picture was a polaroid he took with your camera, your eyes were just out of frame but he could see a portion of your fucked out face, his cum dripping from your mouth and splattered on your cheeks. you were completely naked and sprawled out on his bed in his childhood home

it was almost funny how a hot goddess of a girl was naked, covered in his cum, and sprawled out, pussy on display on his old lego ninjago bedsheets.

nerd!choso who dedicates every single one of his orgasms to you. if you were with him, he’d find a way to cum inside you. in your mouth or your pussy, he’s find a way inside. of course, he’d also opt for cumming on your tits or on your face, he wasn’t greedy. but what he really wants, is to cum inside your cute little ass! he’s too shy to ask, of course, but the day would come eventually

if you weren’t here though, he’d pull up his personal secret album for you, filled photos and videos with shots of under your skirt, through the crack of your bedroom, from your window, when you just walking around with a tank top. he loved it all.

but his favorites were videos you’d allowed him to take while he was fucking you from the back or in missionary. he loved watching them on repeat, never getting bored of them. after a while, he gained the courage to show you as well.

you checked your phone to see a notification from your boyfriend and gasped when you opened it.

it was an image of the picture he kept of you beside his bed, covered in his semen. in the corner of the photo was his hand wrapped around his throbbing cock.

‘i miss you 🖤’