#Rings of Supervision

[maranull]

watching vaati's new vid and he mentions a lot of 1.0 item descriptions, so far only using them as add ons to one or two theories

but I'm thinking, if the developers decided to remove those old descriptions, can we still rely on them as canon/reliable sources?

I don't have an answer, just asking

EDIT: nvm, later on he dismisses a 1.0 description for the one that came after

[hanaasbananas]

think i might wear my bird hijab every week when i have forest school bc we all need a little bit of whimsy and also it just makes me laugh every time I think ab it. who knew a random charity shop find ten years ago would still spark such joy?

[beauty-grace-outer-space]

People sure do be testing my patience today. 

[yanderenightmare]

Yandere Days of the Week

♡ TW: a lot of different stuff today, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, yandere, stalking, drugging, alcohol/poisoning, vomiting/forced/emeto, abuse of power, plotting murder, waterboarding-ish, squirting, implied bottle-fucking

♡ FEM reader

♡ INSPO: this by the lovely @yanderedrabbles

Monday is your strict boss.

He’s always breathing down your neck around the office, checking if you come in on time, laying into you when you’re anything but perfectly on the dot—not even allowing you to get settled into your cubicle before dumping a workload onto your desk on top of the one you already have, coming back with a fresh one right after lunch again.

You know you’re probably just being sensitive, but you feel as though he singles you out. Barking at you to redo things, even after you’d gone through the extra measure of running it by a coworker who’d given you the thumbs up. You don’t know, it sort of feels as if he has it out for you.

Being yelled at is already bad enough, not to mention how he’ll demand you work late to make up for the slack. And yet, that’s not even the worst part! 

No, the absolute worst part is that he’ll insist on staying behind, too—to supervise you. 

It’s utterly nerve-wracking. ‘Cause he isn’t only your boss, he’s also sort of… well… really hot. Always dressed sharply in a tailored pin-striped suit and those sharp-tipped newly-polished shoes—hair slick with a fresh barbershop cut and a chiseled face to match.

He smells good, too. And it all just makes it extra awkward for you. Especially when you stay late together, alone. He’ll remove his tie and jacket, then button up his collar and roll up his sleeves—flexing those burly arms of his and that fat wristwatch that’s worth more than your entire life savings. 

That neat hair of his will start to fall apart as the late hours take their toll, getting disheveled and only sexier for it—and the way he’ll drag his ring-clad fingers through it with a groan, looking at you with such a fierce glare, you actually have to calm your breath and suppress the urge to rub your thighs together.

But although his voice is definitely something you could dream about, you could do without it when he talks down to you, always admonishing you, grumbling about what a poor employee you are, how you only give him more work to do, how he should be compensated for it. 

You’re certain he’s going to fire you soon.

And it turns out soon is even sooner than you’d thought or hoped.

This is it, you think, once he calls you into his office. He’s finally going to do it. You’re going to have to find a new job now—without a good recommendation to help you out, no less. Knowing him and how much he despises you, he’ll probably give you a really poor review on top of it all—he might even call around to make sure no one ever hires you again. 

You’re almost about to cry.

“You’re about the worst employee I’ve ever had,” he states, sitting behind his desk with you standing before him, twiddling your fingers while looking sorrowfully down at your heels, hoping he’d have enough mercy to at least make it quick. “But since firing people is fucking impossible nowadays, I’m just gonna haf’to relocate you somewhere else you won’t be damn useless.” 

You look up at that. Tears held back in surprise. 

Wait, so… he’s not firing you?

He sighs, looking through your employee files, making the changes, “And given it’s the only job open right now, starting today, you’ll be my new personal assistant.”

Gathering everything, he brandishes the documents with his signature, then looks up at you while sliding the pen and papers over.

“Think you can handle that?”

Stunned, you only briefly think about how you’re overqualified to be a personal assistant, but at the same time, you couldn’t really find it in yourself to care, blinded with relief that you hadn’t been sacked.

You just nod your head all prettily, signing just as quickly while vowing, “I’ll try my best, sir.”

He becomes significantly nicer after that—always praising you for a job well done and giving you pretty gifts on top of your paycheck, which, funny enough, is nearly double what it used to be, all the while telling you how lost he’d be without you there keeping his life together. 

You can’t help but let it all go to your head, completely forgetting that you had bigger plans than being an assistant.

He brings you everywhere he goes now. Out of the building on business meetings, out of the country on business trips. Expensive dinners, fancy hotel rooms, big yachts and galas. You can’t complain—too busy picking your jaw up from the floor—too busy to notice his leer and how he plans to keep you by his side for the rest of his life—too busy to understand that when he stays work late, he doesn’t mean doing paperwork.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Enji, Aizawa, Overhaul ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Nanami, Geto, Naoya, Megumi, Toji, Higuruma, Kusakabe ♡ HQ – Tsukishima, Sakusa ♡ BLLK – Reo, Rin, Sae ♡ AOT – Levi ♡ DS – Muzan, Sanemi ♡ HxH – Chrollo

Tuesday is your old classmate who just moved in across the hall. 

It’s a funny coincidence, you both agree, as neither of you lives in your hometown anymore—what a small world, huh?

You’ll meet each other in the mornings when you both set out for work and small talk on your way down the stairs, then up the stairs when coming home again. It’s impressive how often it happens.

He’s always asking for the two of you to catch up—always inviting you over for dinner to talk about old times and what you’ve gotten up to since. 

You never know what to say… You don’t feel like the two of you were all that close during school, so you’ve turned him down each time, hoping if you ask him for a rain check enough times, he’ll eventually just forget.

But after coming home, tired after a grueling Monday and an even harder Tuesday, on top of realizing you didn’t have anything stocked up in the fridge, you end up agreeing to his home-cooked meal when he offers in favor of ordering takeout.

He lights up at once, “Great!”

It’s a bit of an overreaction, you think. But hey, he just moved here—maybe he hasn’t made any friends yet. It’s not easy being in a new place—he’s probably dying for some company. 

Shoot, now you feel a little bad for not having agreed earlier. You remember how it had been yourself when all you ever did was go to work every day—not knowing what else to get up to in the city. Maybe you could give him a hand, tell him about a few places—just to help him get on his feet.

“Yeah, just let me shower and change, and I’ll come over,” you say, unlocking your apartment. 

“Sure thing! See you soon!” he cheers, watching you go with a big beaming smile on his face, only turning around to unlock his own place when you’d closed your door.

He’s a little strange, you can’t help but think—or maybe he’s just that eager. Thinking about it, you don’t remember much about him from college. Honestly, he’s one of those faces that just sort of end up blending into the background. He never made any impact in class or at any parties or other gatherings. You don’t know, he was always rather quiet. You don’t remember him having any friends either. 

But whatever, people change, and he seems nice enough—maybe he was just more concerned with his average. Fucks knows you weren’t.

You shower quickly, not bothering to wash your hair or put on anything too nice. It’s only a Tuesday, after all—it should be casual. A bralette, boxers, baggy T-shirt, shorts, and slippers later, and you pop out the door and knock on his.

He’s quick to answer. “Hey! Come in, come in—it’s almost done!”

“Cool, thanks,” you say. “Smells good.”

He ushers you to take a seat at the tiny kitchen table he has. Similar to yours, actually—these apartments aren’t all that big. Still, his place is poorly furnished. But then again, he only moved in a little while ago, so you won’t judge.

He rushes over with dinner shortly. Spaghetti, meatballs, and red sauce. A classic. You’re not complaining. However, you could have done without the candles and moody lighting. It’s the kind of thing you’d expect from a corny date, but you decide to ignore it.

“Wine?” he offers despite it being only Tuesday. 

You know you probably shouldn’t, but the start of the week has been hard, and you honestly wouldn’t mind the good night's sleep that follows a few glasses of red or anything that would make the affair go over a little more smoothly.

“Sure, why not.”

And yet, it’s still a little awkward. You don’t know what to talk about—you just end up droning on about work, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Then you remember what you’d thought about earlier and start talking about some of the places and things he should check out now that he lives here. You try asking him about his work and why he decided to move here, but he doesn’t seem very interested in talking about himself.

After finishing, it isn’t long before you feel drowsy. You blame it on the wine at first—starting to think it was time you thank him for the hospitality and excuse yourself. But as soon as you get up, you’re already falling over.

No worries, though. He’s been waiting and ready to catch you for a while.

“It took you some time to agree to come—I was afraid you’d never say yes, but I’m glad you finally did… I was about to take other drastic measures…”

You’re so sleepy it’s suddenly impossible to grasp what he’s saying—as well as have any sort of grasp on the situation while you’re being carried bridal style away from the living room, through a door into a very dark room.

“I bet you don’t remember me that well, huh?” he continues as he lays you down on something soft, something that swallows your body in a way you can’t really decide if it feels nice or not. 

He keeps talking while you try to figure it out, “Hm, that’s fine. I remember you very well.”

You connect one and two associations and come to conclude the thing beneath you is a bed. It ripples and dips with the added weight once your neighbor crawls over you. Your body doesn’t yet recognize being alarmed, but something behind the fuzz that’s taken over your mind still has enough common sense to make you feel as if something’s not right.

“I just had to follow after you, you know?” he keeps rambling, but you’re only barely able to listen. “I just needed some time to save up the money and all, but I was right behind you. And made sure I’d get this apartment right next to yours.”

He looks at your pretty face—all spaced out—stroking your cheek all slow and delicately.

He sighs, “Heh, I know they say that if you love someone, you should let them go—but I just couldn’t find it in me.”

His hand travels further down—eyes following the trail. Down, down, down, until reaching the hem of your shirt.

“I had a crush on you since day one, you know?” he confesses while pulling your tee up over your bra, exposing your pretty chest to him. He licks his lips, breath shuddering, and yet he keeps preaching despite it, “All three years. I wanted to tell you, but you were always surrounded by those pesky friends of yours. It was impossible to catch you alone.”

He feels your skin with a gentle touch as if in reverence. Still, now that you’re getting used to the effects of whatever it is he’s drugged you with, you’re lucid enough to feel the treacherous hard-on he has rubbing against you. 

“Unlike me…” He stills for a moment, and something dark takes over. “I was always alone.”

Beyond uncomfortable, beyond alarmed, you’re fully terrified now. You want to scream, but you can’t find the strength to move, even just a finger. Completely limb, and yet not numb, but sensitive to all his awful touches.

“But that’s all in the past.” He smiles. “Now that I finally have you all to myself.”

♡ BNHA – Deku, Tenko ♡ JJK – Yuuta ♡ HQ – Yamaguchi ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ DS – Zenitsu ♡ WB – Nirei

Wednesday is the cheerful clerk who works at your local grocery store. 

You like doing your grocery shopping on Hump day. It only makes sense, after all—you’ve made it through the first half of the week and deserve to spoil yourself a little! 

He’s only just a bit older than you and yet still plays the older and wiser card—all in good fun, though, making a few comments about your lifestyle, jokingly telling you that “Candies are strictly  for the weekend, you know?” A brow quirked while looking at you slyly.

And you’ll return his banter, giggling while saying, “A little fun never killed no one.”

It’s an innocent flirt the two of you share—neither of you really expects anything in return. He’s just a really friendly guy—always coming over to help you in the store. Tall as he is, he reaches the top shelf, barely needing to stretch his arm. Sometimes, he’ll even take a look at your shopping list and help you gather everything, bag your items, and then carry them out to your car as if the two of you are the people around and the store isn’t filled with dozens of other shoppers in bigger need of his assistance.

He mostly only sees you on Wednesday, but he knows your entire life story and your day-to-day schedule the way the two of you end up talking. Usually, people would be wary of sharing things with strangers, but you trust him with so much exactly because he is a stranger—treating him no different from a confidant. No one knows you as intimately as him. He knows all your little habits—from what you eat on a daily basis to what brand of soap you use, even what type of tampons and pads you like. 

He doesn’t appreciate you eating things outside of the groceries the two of you pick together. He fucking hates it, actually—it makes it feel like you’re cheating on him. Every time you eat out, order in, go to a bar or cafe, even a fucking candy store is like a stab to his back and heart all at the same time. It drives him crazy—he might just burn all those places down to the ground. 

But he never lets any of that show when you’re in the store. It’s not your fault after all that there are so many temptations out in the world. You just need a little help saying no.

You don’t have to worry though. After he becomes your boyfriend, he’ll be that help for you. 

Yeah, all you have to do is stay home and he’ll make sure you get what you need. He won’t let you indulge as much as you do now, of course, but he won’t be too strict either, so don’t fret. 

He’ll make sure you get all the right nutrients to lead a long, happy, healthy life—get your body ripe and ready to start a family. 

♡ BNHA – Deku, Kirishima, Hawks, Natsuo, Mirio ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo ♡ HQ – Daichi, Kuro, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Yukimiya, Aiku ♡ WB – Suo, Umemiya, Togame

Thursday is your is your random-ass friend who’ll drop by unannounced. It’s never anything crazy, though—no, just a fun hang-out to get a little headstart on the weekend. He’ll bring a joint or maybe some gummies—he likes to keep you guessing. And the two of you will watch cartoons or shitty reality TV, play a round or a dozen of Mario Cart or the like—giggling over each other’s commentary.

He’s chill, laidback, a fan of both comfortable silences and making good conversation. A really good friend.

Yeah, a really good friend who likes sticking his tongue down your throat when you’re knocked out from all the laced drugs he keeps passing you. 

“God, you’re so clueless,” he moans when bearing over your passed-out body where you lie all comfortably oblivious on the couch. “Just a naive cutie pie who’s gonna get her gullible little pussy used.”

You make him so hard—you have no idea how he licks your face and kisses your eyelids. Drunk of the power he has over you and feeling all but unhinged because of it. 

He feels your limp tongue with his fingers, playing with it while grinding against your thigh. Breaths thick with lust—eyes half-mast, getting overstimulated by all the nasty things he’s going to do to you and how you will never ever find out about any of it.

“You know I fuck you raw every time I come over? That’s right, every single time,” he laughs and shudders in delight, whispering the truth into your ear despite knowing you’re in no state to hear it. 

“Mh, I use this body like my own personal sex doll. There’s not a spot left I haven’t touched.” He tugs down your top and takes both your tits in his hand, squeezing them as if they belong to him because, in his mind, in these special precious moments he shares with you, there’s not a part of you that doesn’t belong to him and there’s not a part of you he can’t do whatever he wishes with.

And so, he sucks and licks your pretty tits too and keeps raving, “You’re all mine, every single part of you—I own it all.”

He pulls up your skirt and strokes your cunt through your panties, sliding his fingertip through the slit as if he’s teasing you even though you’re going to stay just as unresponsive no matter what. But in his mind, he imagines it wants him—that your pussy desperately craves him without you knowing—that it’s a secret the two of them share with each other and that they're somehow in cahoots on keeping you oblivious.

“You’re always so tight and wet—it takes everything in me not to cum inside, but we wouldn’t want you figuring things out and ruining our fun, now would we?” he rambles, finally sliding your panties to the side so that he could slip his digits within, pumping you sweetly while you sleep oh-so-soundly and blissfully unaware, getting you good and ready to take his cock in the next minute.

“Yeah, it’s gonna stay our fun little secret forever.” 

♡ BNHA – Denki, Kirishima, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo ♡ HQ – Kuro, Lev, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ BLLK – Nagi, Karasu, Shido ♡ WB – Togame

Friday is the bartender at your go-to club. 

He’s seen you in every state of drunkenness possible—from tipsy, plastered, sloppily drunk to flat-out shit-faced. You’re a bit of an alcoholic, you know that? Once you start, you can’t seem to stop yourself. If someone puts a drink in front of your face, you dont even think before grabbing it—all laughs and zero critical thinking.

Of course, the way he overserves you, you’re bound to get fucked up.

“Wanna go home…”

He holds your drowsy body against his chest, keeping you upright.

“My shift’s done, and my place is right above here, so you don’t gotta worry,” he says, soothing you as you cling to his side, utterly unable to stand on your own two feet, flinching at the flashing strobe lights and wincing from the blaring party music—feeling as if there’s a seismic eight earthquake raging on inside your poor head.

“Where’ my friends?” your words are so slurred, they’re barely audible. 

But he hears you, chuckling before cooing at you, “Let’s get you someplace comfortable, and then we’ll contact your friends, okay? Sound good?”

You burble a few incoherent sounds before uttering out a weak, “Okay…”

“Alright then, baby, don’t worry, I got you,” he purrs in return, getting a better grip around your body as he leads you out of the club, into the elevator, and up to his flat.

“I feel sick…” you mumble, whimpering.

And he coos, “I know, baby, it’s okay, I’ll help you.”

He leads you to his bathroom, setting you down on your knees in front of the toilet. You don’t think much of it when he lifts up your little party dress and tugs it off over your head—feeling as if he’s just making you comfortable. Yeah, he's just taking care of you.

“Let’s empty that system of trash, yeah?” 

He gets down on his own knees just behind you, cradling you as he gathers your hair back with both hands—gripping it a little too tightly in a single fist before being just as rough, sticking two of his thick digits deep into the back of your throat. 

You immediately gag and throw up. 

And he hums, sounding pleased while praising you, “That’s a good girl—get it all out.” 

He doesn’t pull his digits out despite you struggling, trying to wrench away—no, he just uses his bigger body to keep you pressed and hunched over the toilet bowl while finger-fucking the back of your throat—smiling sadistically while at it.

“Come on now, baby, I know you got more in there. Let it out.”

He keeps you there for half an hour, making you dry gag and spit, mascara streaming down your pretty face as he feels your smaller body convulse under his weight. Fuck, it’s enough to make his cock pre.

“Good girl,” he purrs, petting your hair and placing a kiss on your temple, all while you shudder and sniffle. “Let’s get you washed up, hm?” 

He reclaims his harsh grip on your hair, just as tightfisted, using it to make you crawl across the tiles until reaching the tub. He takes his place behind you—trapping you between his legs, thighs, and crotch, keeping you locked against the porcelain edge while he fetches the showerhead and immediately sprays your face with the cold at full force. 

“Open up, baby, let’s wash your mouth out.”

You yelp, whining, but he finds your protesting more amusing. Finding your nose with his other hand, he pinches it shut. Making you gape and gasp for breath through the water stream. 

But he doesn’t leave it at that. No. The shower head is about the same size as your fist and proving to be just small enough to allow him to force it into your mouth—all but waterboarding you.

He has to chuckle at your fussing—you’re so weak he barely has to put in any effort keeping you in place—he nearly busts in his pants feeling it. But the best part is how when he lets go of your nose, the water starts coming up and out your nostrils.

He let’s go before you drown, of course. Snuff isn’t on the menu tonight. He’s been stalking you for far too long—he can’t just waste it with foreplay.

You collapse on the floor, shivering and coughing—head a spinning mess, still wasted, riddled with shock yet stifled by exhaustion to do anything but lie there, trembling against the wet tiles.

“No, no, no, baby, you can't fall asleep yet. The party’s still far from over,” he admonishes, giving your cheek a few small slaps before grabbing your upper arm and pulling you up. “Yeah, come here—I’m far from finished with you...”

He carries you out of the bathroom and drops you on his bed. 

“God, you’re fucking dumb,” he grabs your face, pinching your lips while giving it an ugly kiss. “Did your mommy never tell you not to go home with strangers, huh?”

Leaving you there, he goes off to find your purse.

“Let’s let your friends know you’re home safe, hm.”

You try getting up while he’s gone, crawling around in the bedsheet like a worm, but not managing to get anywhere. 

He watches you and scoffs while typing up a message, hitting send to your most recent group chat. It only takes a minute before all the dumb bitches you call friends send hearts in return, saying how fun tonight was.

They have no idea what they’re missing out on.

He saunters back to you. Enjoying every second of watching you squirm. Thank fuck for alcohol, and god bless dumb party girls.

“Where do you think you’re going, huh?” He grins while grabbing your ankles and pulling you to the edge of the bed. “You’re not going anywhere, baby—you’re staying right here with me where I can have my fun with you.” 

His hands go up and down your soft skin, thinking of all the pretty marks he’s going to leave on you before curling his fingers around your slutty string panties.

The lace is all wet from his earlier actions as he tugs it down your thighs and legs, tossing it over his shoulder before spreading your legs and pulling you even closer. 

“Aw, you got your pussy all clean-shaven for me?” he awes with a smirk, “What a good girl you are.”

He’d planned on having a bit more fun with you before giving in to his urges, but seeing your pretty little cunt so ready to be fucked, he couldn't be asked to wait any longer, needing to fuck you like he’d been wanting to ever since he first spotted you in the club so many TGIFs ago.

“You sure like to party, don’t you?” he rasps while buckling up his belt and zipping himself down, letting his pants drop before grabbing his painfully hard cock. “Always at the club shaking this pretty little ass of yours—just a dumb party animal, huh?” He just knows your little cunt’s going to squeeze him tight like a trap—he isn’t even going to give you a finger test before bullying himself inside.

“Yeah, you like having fun—you havin’ fun now, babe?” he bows down, biting your cheek while putting his head to your entrance, pressing inside despite the resistance. 

He was right—you are fucking tight, taking his cock just the way he thought you would.

“Fucking slut,” he groans as he starts thrusting, hugging your thighs tight. “Begging to get gangbanged out on that fucking dance floor—dancin’ like a fucking stripper for free and for all to see.”

Fuck, how he’s going to ruin you—give you a necklace of hickies all around your throat as he fucks you into a mess, then press a beer bottle inside you once he’s done—keep his cum in you all night long.

“You deserve to be used. And I’m gonna use yah for all you’re worth.”

♡ BNHA – Shigaraki, Dabi, Hawks, Shinso ♡ JJK – Geto, Gojo, Naoya ♡ HQ – Kuro, Sakusa, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Karasu, Shido, Aiku ♡ DS – Sanemi ♡ WB – Kaji, Togame

Saturday is a gym-bro. There isn’t a day he doesn’t go. Yep, not even Saturday.

You try to go as often as you can muster. But no, you don’t go every day, especially during the weekend—and that gives him a good reason to come up to when you do—teasing you about how he missed you last time. Acting all smug and cocky when asking you what bad habits you got up to on Friday that made you skip out.

He makes you feel sheepish standing next to him as he all but bullies you for being an itty-bitty weakling. 

He’s not exactly being fair. It’s not as if you’re especially weak compared to everyone else. It’s just that absolutely everyone’s an itty-bitty weakling standing next to him. The guy’s pure muscle and taller than most of the equipment, for crying out loud!

One time, he’d demonstrated his strength by daring you to hang from his bicep. And sure enough, he could lift you like you were nothing. Using you like a dumbbell—which is what he’ll sometimes call you.

You’re pretty sure he’s flirting with you. It’s flattering, but honestly, you think guys like him are a bit too much. His leg has the same girth as your thigh, and so does his neck—not to mention how you think he has enough strength in his hand alone to pulverize your skull in one simple squeeze.

Besides, he’s way too full of himself. You get being proud about health and fitness, but holy shit, does he never shut up? He’s always bragging about how much he benches and how many reps he does every day—and on top of everything, he seems to always be watching and studying you, commenting about your form, and mansplaining how you can get better.

He gets on your nerves. 

But then again, the guy does seem to know what he’s talking about. And after several weeks of neither seeing nor feeling much results, you finally decide to let him help you out.

And he does. Taking you through all the motions, from warm-ups to really pushing yourself, and now, the cool-down stretches. 

Though… you can’t exactly say there’s much cooling down involved in the way he has you full-feverish, sweating more than you did during the actual workout. In the locker room, suspended against his swole chest with his arms locked around your thighs, folding you clean in half, fingers locked behind your neck as he bounces you on his thick length. And fuck, even his fucking dick is riddled with muscles and veins—feeling as if he’s fucking you with an arm the way he’s stretching you out and punching your guts to mush.

“You holdin’ out, dumbbell?” he mocks, knowing you’re a mess. “Tap out any time, yeah?” 

Fuck him, you think—as if you can move your arms in this position—as if you can even speak or make any sound except full-on panting like a bitch and drooling like one too.

One more hit, and you’re spraying—and he insists on fucking you just as hard through it. Straight pounding your wet cunt until he’s sure you’re empty before dropping you back down on your own two feet.

But just because you’ve cum like a shower doesn’t mean he’s done. No, far from it, as he rushes you up against the lockers next and continues where he left off. 

The cool metal feels good against your cheek, so good you don’t even mind how he’s pressing you flat and free of air—keeping your neck in a chokehold and your hair in his other fist while fucking into you from behind.

“Trust me, this is way better exercise for someone like you,” he grunts with a grin, feeling you go limp. Your knees shot and your whole body listless, kept up solely by his strength like a puppet on strings.

He rasps out a laugh, “I’ll be your personal trainer, free of charge—just meet me after my reps, and I’ll put you to work and make sure you go home feeling proud.”

Yeah, sure, if you don’t pass out before then.

♡ BNHA – Bakugou, Kirishima, Hawks ♡ JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Toji ♡ HQ – Kuro, Miya twins ♡ BLLK – Kunigami, Shido, Baro, Aiku ♡ DS – Akaza ♡ WB – Togame

Sunday is the religious guy who always comes and knocks on your door to share his faith. 

You don’t share his views, but you’d invited him in for lemonade and pastries once. 

You don’t know exactly why. You usually just say no thank you and close the door, but that time, well, you’d just finished making cupcakes, and the house smelled like a bakery—it seemed like a waste not to have company.

Sundays were usually so anticlimactic you never really knew what to make of them. But after that, you came to really enjoy spending them baking, always trying out new fun recipes. And before you even knew it, since he always came knocking on your door on Sundays to enlighten you bout God, it quickly became a thing of ritual for you to invite him in.

You’d always thought strictly religious people such as him were more… how do you say… fanatic? Or, at the very least, be somewhat passionate about talking about their God. But he doesn’t seem to be very interested in telling you about that at all. No, he seems much more invested in you and how you’ve been since last time.

Oh well, you think—maybe he’s more accepting of people having different life views and isn’t deadset on changing minds after all. Maybe that was never his agenda—maybe he’s simply a good samaritan going door to door to see if he’s needed or wanted. That is what religion is all about, after all.

Little do you know, though… he’s not really a religious guy at all… 

No, he’s actually a serial killer who’d been hunting for his next victim. 

He thought you were just perfect, exactly his type—pretty and kind and dumb, just like prey should be. Oh, but then, you became a little too perfect, didn’t you? Inviting him in with such big doe eyes, despite living all alone, feeding him cupcakes, and telling him tales about your life as if he isn’t a total stranger. You might as well be begging him to make you his victim.

But he can’t waste perfection. 

And so, instead of abducting you and frolicking in your screams as he cuts you up into a dozen pieces, he abducts you and frolics in your screams as he sucks your pussy into a dozen orgasms.

♡ BNHA – Deku, Shoto, Denki, Hawks, Mirio ♡ JJK – Mahito, Geto, Gojo ♡ HQ – Kuro, Lev, Miya twins, Tendou ♡ CSM – Yoshida ♡ BLLK – Reo, Nagi, Bachira ♡ DS – Doma ♡ WB – Suo, Tomiyama

♡ FEM x M INSERT masterlist ♡ GN x M INSERT masterlist

[yeyinde]

extremely dubious consent. power/class imbalance. implied breeding. manipulation.

but regency era John Price paying off your chaperone to get you alone in a carriage for few hours and the whole time, your guardians think you're being properly supervised during this unorthodox courtship.

And sure, he's so much older than you, a widower with specks of grey along his temples and peppered in his beard, and more established in class and life compared to you, the poor thing that only just entered society and already got snatched up by the surly, gruff Duke. But it's John Price. Despite his temperament, he's such a respectable man, isn't he? They can trust him to protect you, of course.

And he does.

Your virtue, however? Not so much.

He does away with that little problem on the second outing he takes you on, smothering the protests that draw up, shaky and uncertain on your lips when the chaperone your guardians paid to watch over you walks away, swallowing it down with a searing kiss. Shushes you through it as he slips his thick fingers over the seam of you, arm buried beneath a dense layer of fabric, snuffing out those little gasps.

Don't worry about it, he rasps into the burning apple of your cheek. "s'how it's supposed to be, mm?" and when that doesn't quell the quiver in your brow, he adds:

"s'what I want, love. Jus' a little taste, mm?"

And the problem with gently reared girls is that they turn into such obliging women. Your eyes flicker downward—soft in your acquiescence even though your shoulders draw up cutely towards your ears. Pretty little thing. He couldn't possibly resist.

So he doesn't.

Taking such a lovely creature on the dirty floor of the carriage with your prim, proper skirts trussed up over your hips, shift in utter disarray from the scorching attention he lavished your breasts earlier is nothing short of euphoric. Aided by the adorable little whines you make when he finally notches his cock against your soft flesh. Worry flashing over your brow because he's just too big, too thick, for you to take, and maybe we shouldn't, Mr Price—

But you swallow him just as sweetly as he imagined you would when he pushes inside of you. Pussy fluttering around him in a panic at the blunt, thick intrusion, unused to such brutal treatment. And it's heaven, of course. Nirvana between the split of your pretty thighs. Pussy just made to take his cock. Loving it so tenderly like this

"Taking me so well, aren't you?"

Tears on your lashline. Nose scrunched up. He's sure it's a trial for you, but this is just a prelude. Ripping the bandaid off.

A necessary evil.

And if the altruistic facade falters under the blunt weight of his desire, his greed, then at least he has a failsafe to keep you in his pocket should your guardians decide he—in his age, his callousness—is not a good fit for their daughter. They are the doting type, after all. Romantics. Idealists.

(If they can't come to reason and see why he's a good match, then the swell of your belly in a few months time will surely sway them—)

The thought breaks across his spine, molten heat puddling in his loins. Fuck—

Despite the viciousness of thrusts at the idea, you take his desire so goddamn well.

It doesn't take him much at all to reach the apex of his pleasure, not when your hands press tight to chest as he bears his weight down, grinding his throbbing cock into the deepest part of you. Your moans, delicious little keens ringing so sweetly in his ears. Letting him ride you hard against the dirty floor, chasing his pleasure even as your knees dig into his sides, brows pinced but nodding along when he rasps in your ear about how good you feel and how it'll only get better, and next time—since you're bein' so bloody sweet f'im—he'll show you how to suck his cock between those damnably soft lips, keep his fingers buried inside of you while you fold yourself over the bench on your knees, mouth swallowing him down deep—

It sends him over the edge with a grunt. A belly deep groan. And just in time, too.

After he puts your clothes in order and slides you back into the seat, groaning when you squeeze your thighs tight together, keeping his cum from spilling out, your chaperone arrives with a nervous smile and a glint of guilt that's easily diminished with another slip of cash between palms. You stare, dazed and flushed, out the window, and barely even flinch when he lays his hand on your thigh, hold possessive. Proprietary.

"Time to go home, mm?"

And if he brings you back to your guardians flustered, limping, and a little dazed—well. The roads were just terrible, weren't they, sweetheart? Quite the rough ride, mm? He's sure next time will be better.

[fulloflambing]

࣪ . ִֶָ๋ CAPITANO: husband headcanons ♡

pairing: capitano x afab!reader/you warnings: reader is addressed as 'wife', canon and modern!au cho's note: the kinich one did rlly good, so now lets try it with our big boi hehe. happy reads everyone! lmk if u guys want an nsfw ver. of either/both characters ;3

this man is the definition of YEARNING.

he wasnt comfortable with the label of him being your boyfriend. with all his eternal affection and love for you? to just be a mere boyfriend? absolutely not. he just HAD to be your husband. proposed the moment he realized he loved you.

definitely proposed with a big stone :p

wears his ring 24/7 and kisses it whenever your not around and he misses you dearly.

he abuses the power of his mask and never misses the chance to stare and just admire your beauty. underneath his mask his eyes are full of love and admiration for you.

discreetly clingy. if your going out somewhere he wants to go with you 'to keep you safe' or he 'needed to pass by that area later anyway'.

hates taking off his helmet, but never stops you from sliding it off of his head to shower him with praise.

his nicknames for you are my love, dear, darling, prince/princess

his love language for you is physical touch, and words of affirmation

his favorite spots to kiss you on is your forehead, lips, the palm of your hands and your knuckles.

engraved your initials into his sword, and because of that he makes sure he takes good care of it always.

his kisses are always slow and intimate.

he is a quick-kisses or pecks HATER. he has to kiss you for atleast 10 seconds. he doesn't care if hes late, if theres someone right infront of you— he kisses you like its the last time, everytime.

more of a listener than a speaker

he likes to go on dates or do activities with you where you both have to talk to eachother a lot. like fine dining dates, late night walks or driving!

very touchy in private. he likes to snake his arm around your waist, pull your hair to the side and kiss the back of your neck.. hes just addicted to praising and carressing your body.

ever since he married you, he absolutely despises overtime. he gets bossier and meaner to his subordinates when he realizes he might have to stay a little later to supervise them. sometimes he even leaves his job or his expeditions early just to get home to you.

frequently brings you gifts. a bouquet of rare flowers, a jewelry set with special ore customized just for you, lavish wine.. you name it.

never wants to argue with you. the second you tell him he's wrong, he just immediately agrees with you, spewing "yes ma'am." "your absolutely right. i didn't think of it properly.. apologies my love."

ever since he married you, he likes to subtly flex he has you as his wife.

"Sorry, i must end this conversation early. My wife is waiting on my presence." and you can just HEAR how cocky he is to say that.

writes you longgggg letters when he has to get away from business for awhile.

regarding his letters, he made you scribble/draw a design which he got custom made to become his wax seal for said letters :) a very keen man

got you a coat matching his own!

when your crying, he likes to hug you in silence, just letting you soak him in your tears. when you've calmed down, he tells you hes there to listen if you want to talk about your feelings, and theres no problem of yours hes not willing to help you solve. in his mind, your pain is his own, and he'll always be there to support you through any troubles.

very possessive. he wants people to know your his, and hes yours.

princess treatment on TOP. carries you easily when your tired of walking, idly massages your hands or feet when your both lounging together, regularly brings you flowers

during misunderstandings, he likes to take a minute of silence to compose himself and his thoughts to make sure he doesnt say anything he doesnt mean

likes to properly sit down with you to talk out problems between the both of you, and keeps an open mind. he doesnt rush you or cut you off when your talking about your feelings, and lets you know hes present and he cares about how you feel

takes extra time and effort after an argument to remind you he loves you.

overall, capitano is a very romantic lover despite his cold resolve, and honors your wishes with his life.

[thee-horny-thicky]

Okay hear me out. Gaz is a sucker for MILFs, Ghost likes his ladies sweet and thick, and Soap melts at the sight of a pretty smile. And Price, the lucky bastard, bagged a wife that had all their dream qualities.

You.

Ghost fell first. He'd known about you longer than anyone. When the Captain took him under his wing, you were by his side, feeding him without complaint, offering up the guest bedroom whenever he needed it, and applying a special balm to his scars whenever they bothered him. You made him feel cared for, sneaking your way into his traumatized heart.

However, if the ring on your finger wasn't enough to stop him, his loyalty to Price and his deep trauma did. And when you announced your first pregnancy, he knew his crush could never be actualized.

But damn if he didn't dream about it.

Soap and Gas found out about you by accident, years later when you needed an emergency C-section for your second child. Price dropped everything to be by your side, which obviously raised questions among his men. To say they were shocked when they found out was an understatement. As far as they knew, their Captain was single. Sure, he turned down anyone who hit on him whenever they went out to a pub, but they thought nothing of it.

Turns out, he was hiding a whole wife.

It was nothing against them. Long ago, Price flaunted you. Then, an enemy name dropped you, and he realized what a mistake that was. Thankfully, nothing came of it, but he knew luck only lasted so long. So, once he extinguished the bastard and his friends, he made sure to never speak of you at work or to his colleagues.

Soap and Gaz were a little peeved at first, yes, but their hurt feelings disappeared when they laid eyes on you. When they finally got to you, you'd awakened, and were holding your baby girl. You looked radiant, and when you aimed a gentle smile their way, they were goners.

Despite their attempts to hide their crushes, Price was an astute man. He was aware that his team was attracted to you, and didn't mind one bit. In his eyes, you were perfection, so it made sense why the lads would pine after you.

And maybe, just maybe, he got off on having a woman they fancied, of flaunting you as subtly as possible. And perhaps, just perhaps, he wasn't against the idea of his boys sampling you, under his supervision, of course.

Now, the only challenge was to convince you to get on board.

[cheapshrimpysheep]

Yuutsum 3

SUMMARY: What if you also have a Tsum? Then your Tsum and the Tsum of the person you like keep giving signs that they like each other?

CHARACTERS: Twisted Tsumderland 3 Tsumsitters (Ace; Trey; Ruggie; Jamil; Vil; Idia; Malleus; Silver)

TAGS: Fluff; GN Reader 

WARNING: Spoilers for the Twisted Tsumderland 3 Event and the Tsumsitter cards Vignettes.

WORD COUNT: An average of 810 words per character.

COMMENTS: This was originally a request from @taruruchi for my 1k celebration. Which you can read here. And since so many readers liked it, I decided to do what I normally do when this happens: Do this for ALL the characters! Grouped by event in this case.

The request also includes Jamil's and Silver's tsums, but I wrote them before part 3 was even announced on the JP server. In other words, I had to pretty much guess what their tsums would be like, but now I could write them more accurately.

And I ended up get carried away writing Vil's and Idia's parts. 😅

I hope you enjoy 😉

Yuutsum 1 (Riddle; Cater; Leona; Jack; Floyd; Epel; Sebek)

Yuutsum 2 (Deuce; Azul; Jade; Kalim; Rook; Ortho; Lilia)

CONTEXT: Like the original Twisted Tsumderland 3 event, this takes place after the events of the first and second Twisted Tsumderland. And, surprise, your Tsum is back! But it’s the only one, all the other Tsums that came with it are completely new visitors.

Just like the other times, your Tsum seemed restless and wanted to leave Ramshackle Dorm, probably to go look for the other tsums. You decide to take a walk around the school building first and you notice a gathering in the cafeteria.

“If you give it devoted, loving care, I'm sure it'd be willing to show its gratitude!” You hear Ace's voice say from behind a wall of other students.

You come closer, with your tsum in your arms.

“So... Who wants to look after the tsum?!”

“I'll do it!” a Scarabia student offers.

“What are you talking about?” A Pomefiore student counterposes. “That's gonna be me!”

And an argue begins. You stand on your tiptoes and crane your neck to look over some students' shoulders and see an Ace-tsum on the table.

“Okay, easy, guys. You can all take turns trying your hand at looking after it.” Ace interrupts. “If things go well, you might get to see more tricks. And hey, if they don't do any, you can just return it tonight.”

Even though you know this is about Ace and his tsum, you can't help but feel a little sorry for the things Ace is saying. It's like he just wants to get rid of his tsum. Poor little guy. And your tsum agrees.

“I can take care of it!” Your voice rings out, Ace and Deuce recognizing it immediately.

The students in front of you turn and see that you have another tsum in your arms. They make way for you while commenting on how cute it is.

“(Y/N)?!” Ace and Deuce say in unison.

You lean over to look at Ace-tsum who is looking at you with bright, surprised eyes. You say you can take care of it since Ace doesn't want to. Your tsum jumps from your arms to Ace-tsum's side. You add that you have your tsum to help you supervise it and that you already have some experience with an Ace. He blushes a little.

“Wait (Y/N)!” Deuce says.“This is supposed to be Ace and my task. And you already have your tsum to take care of.”

“Don't worry, Deuce. We both can take care of it. Right, Tsum?” Your Tsum agrees and rubs its cheek against Ace-Tsum's cheek. “Better us than someone who treats it like a burden.” But Ace-tsum moves away from your tsum and Ace grabs your arm to pull you with him to talk to you alone.

“You dummy!” He tells you in a lower voice. “Listen, I'm not just trying to get rid of my tsum, okay?! I'm trying to find someone who adores it so much that they would love to fawn over it and take care of it. This will be better than being with someone who is only taking care of it out of obligation.”

You ask, then, why can't you take care of his tsum.

“Because I was trying to get some idiot to do it, not you!”

Then you hear and see that more students have joined the group that fawns over Ace-tsum. And it seemed like they were finding something cute?

You two go back to the table and see your tsums having fun with each other. Ace-tsum was showing magic tricks to your Tsum and seemed happier with your Tsum's surprised reaction than with the students' applause. Your tsum approached Ace-tsum and began to rub their cheeks against each other, like cuddling. Ace blushed again.

“Fine...” Ace gives up. “It seems like it wants to be with your tsum anyway.��

“Why don't we all take care of the tsums together again?” Deuce suggests, “Like we did when mine was here.”

You and your tsum agree.

“Yeah, I guess we can do that.” Ace says, then smirks. “At least now I can split the work between three.”

Surprisingly, Ace's Tsum is much calmer when it's around your Tsum. In addition to being extremely affectionate with your Tsum, it also seems to really enjoy impressing it with magic tricks and things like that. As if it loved having your tsum's attention and affection back, completely ignoring Ace's embarrassment.

Your tsum wanted to go somewhere, so you pick it up and let it guide you out of Ramshackle Dorm. You pass the Botanical Garden and the Alchemy Workshop and arrive at the Hall of Mirrors. Your tsum wants you to cross the mirror to Heartslabyul.

You do so, enter the building and you end up crossing paths with Trey in the hallway. He was carrying a cake container. You feel your tsum move slightly in your arms when it sees him.

“Hello (Y/N).” Trey greets you. “I see your tsum is back.” He smiles at it and you feel it move again. “This time one similar to me showed up too, so I'm also tsumsitting. I assume you're here to see it.” He chuckles seeing you and your tsum nodding. “It is in the lounge. But before that.” He opens the cake container revealing a beautiful cake with icing and grapes decorating it, and some slices already missing. “Do you want to try a slice? Tsum decorated it.”

If you like grapes, he will be happy to see you eating a slice. If you don't like them and are sad because you would like to try the cake, He will suggest that you go to the kitchen and take out just one piece that doesn't have grapes for you to taste.

“Here.” He says taking just a forkful of the icing cake. “This one doesn't have grapes.” He holds out the fork with the piece of cake in your direction.

You can take the fork and eat it yourself or you can eat it while he holds the fork. If you do this last one, he will laugh and then smirk slightly. Independently of what you do, you'll feel your tsum moving in your arms again, but not enthusiastically.

Trey asks if everything is okay with your tsum and you answer that it might be sad because it can't taste the cake, after all tsum don't eat.

“Oh, don't worry.” He says to your tsum with a sweet smile. “You liking the way it looks is good enough already.”

Your tsum makes that happy tsum sound and suddenly jumps out of your arms towards Trey who catches it and you see it nestling in his arms.

“Ha ha ha. Your tsum is more cheeky than mine. No, that's not a bad thing. I find it quite cute actually.”

If you are more outgoing, your tsum will make that happy sound again and smile at him with its eyes. If you are shy, your tsum will shrink a little and hide its face in his arms.

He will, happily, carry your Tsum in his arms to the lounge where his Tsum and other students are, but when the three of you get there...

“Is everyone done? I'll get the dishes - uh...” Trey and you see what appears to be his tsum attacking students with a toothbrush. “What’s going on here?”

Cater explains the whole madness with Tsum wanting everyone to brush their teeth. Trey ends up taking his Tsum's side and the students run to brush their teeth. Cater tries to apologize by saying that it took him longer to eat and even tries to say that he wanted to spend some time with your tsum. But it's no use, both Treys look at him with a menacing smile.

“Ah, I'm sorry! I swear I'll brush therm! Don't come near me with that smile on your face!” And he leaves the lounge as well.

Only Riddle, you, Trey and your two tsums remain. Trey-tsum points his toothbrush at you with that smile.

“Let's give (Y/N) a pass this time.” Trey defends you. “They are from another dorm so their toothbrush and toothpaste are not here.”

Trey-tsum lowers the toothbrush in agreement. Your Tsum jumps out of Trey's arms and lands next to his Tsum. They both make a happy sound and the two begin to rub their cheeks against each other as if cuddling.

“Your tsum is very affectionate, isn't it?” Trey comments with a smile.

Trey-tsum jumps onto your shoulder, presses its face against your cheek as if it were giving you a kiss, and jumps back to your tsum’s side. Then the two jump onto one of the sofas and snuggle up together as if they were nesting.

“How cute.” Riddle comments with a slightly mocking smile seeing Trey blush.

You were taking a walk around the school campus with your tsum in your arms when you heard Jack's voice calling you.

“Hey (Y/N), glad I found you.” Jack says. You turn around and he sees your Tsum in your arms who greets him smiling with its eyes. “Your tsum is back? So you should already know that other tsums have appeared too.”

You say you had already assumed that and ask if he was looking for you.

“More or less. The truth is that I was looking for someone who could help Ruggie with his tsum.”

You feel your tsum move in your arms when it hears Ruggie's name. Jack tells you that everything seemed to be going well between them until they started arguing, or rather fighting over the money they earned. Your tsum has the same reaction as you, probably an unsurprised sigh.

You agree to help and go with Jack to Savanaclaw. You find Ruggie and his tsum in the lounge fighting with each other. Riggie has an envelope in his outstretched hand trying to get it away from the tsum, while the tsum jumps at Ruggie to try to get to the envelope while hitting him.

Your tsum jumps out of your arms and sneaks up on them while they are focused on fighting each other. When it is close enough, it prepares itself and as soon as it sees an opening, it jumps and takes the envelope from Ruggie's hands. Then it runs to you with the envelope where its mouth would be and jumps back into your arms, handing you the envelope.

Ruggie looked at your tsum and you with the most threatening look you've ever seen on him, until he realized it was you and his expression changed drastically and his ears went down. His Tsum's reaction was the same. He even stutters your name in surprise.

“And h-hey, your tsum is back!” He tries to divert the conversation and ease the situation.

You don't fall for that and ask why they were fighting over the money. Ruggie explained to you that he still tried to give 20% to his Tsum since it doesn't need money to eat or things like that and that's why it seemed fair to him. But his tsum didn't like the idea and was trying to keep most of the money.

You ask your own tsum if that money is the same as in the tsum world, basically asking if it would be of any use to Ruggie-tsum, and your tsum shakes its head no.

“See?! It's not even any use to you. And I would be generous enough to give you twenty percent.”

Ruggie's tsum turns against him again, your tsum jumps out of your arms and throws itself at Ruggie-stum, hitting it. But it doesn't hit your tsum to retaliate, instead it tucks its tail between its legs and lowers its ears while your tsum seems to scold it.

Ruggie laughs at that situation and approaches you asking, also with his ears down and his tail between his legs, if you could give him back the envelope. But you reveal that, knowing him, you knew that he was not taking care of the tsum, but rather taking advantage of it to earn more money with its work.

“Hey, The tsum was the one who wanted to work for m- I mean with me. We earned that money by working together by choice.”

“So why not split it fifty-fifty?” You suggest.

“WHAT?! Are you cra-”

“If one of you worked as hard as the other then you deserve the same amount, don't you?”

He tries to bargain by reiterating that Tsums don't need to eat, but you continue the discussion saying that if it's not like that they won't stop fighting and it will never be resolved. If Ruggie keeps rejecting ot, your tsum will throw itself at his head to hit him. And then he will finally give in and split the money 50-50.

After that your tsum will convince Ruggie-tsum to just rest with it, trying to push it onto one of the lounge chairs. But instead Ruggie-tsum seemed to want to play with your tsum and the two of them started play fighting like two cubs. Which ends up looking more like they are hugging and cuddling.

Ruggie comments that despite what happened they seem to really like each other. After playing with each other for a while, Ruggie-tsum will come over to you to see if it can get some petting from you for being so cute. And if so, it'll turn over on its back so you can give it belly rubs. Ruggie will tell you that you're spoiling his tsum while trying not to show that he's jealous.

You find out that a Tsum similar to Jamil has appeared and is with him in Scarabia by crossing paths with Kalim while you were taking a walk with your Tsum around the school campus. Needless to say, Kalim was super happy to see your tsum again.

On the way to Scarabia you could feel the enthusiasm of your tsum. When you arrive, Jamil and his tsum are in the lounge playing a card game.

The two Jamils realize that someone has entered the lounge. They look at whoever has entered just to greet them, but as soon as they see that it is you, they both smile.

“Hello (Y/N). I see your tsum is back.”

Your tsum jumps from your arms and approaches Jamil's tsum. When it gets close enough, they brush each other's cheeks. Jamil blushes and pulls his hood a little tighter.

They will finish the game they were playing and then invite you and your tsum to play with them. You will play against your tsum, Jamil will teach you and his tsum will teach your tsum while you both play. Jamil will try to make you win, while Jamil-tsum is trying to make your tsum win. And perhaps for this reason, he teaches you by whispering in your ear so that the tsums don't hear your plays. Even if you don't win, Jamil will say that you played well and will be happy that you understood how to play.

You play two or three more times. Whenever you or your tsum win, it's because Jamil and his tsum agreed to lose to see you both happy. But in the last round Jamil-tsum climbs onto your lap while your tsum goes onto Jamil's lap. Thus forming pairs for the last round.

While Jamil-tsum helps you with the best moves, Jamil asks your tsum for its opinion with a cute smile. They both know that your tsum can't help him win, but he enjoys interacting with it in the same way he enjoys interacting with you.

The two teams end up tied. There is a good chance that the bouth Jamils planned this result.

You were going to get up so Jamil could prepare something for the two of you to have a snack, when you heard something. The sound of an insect coming in and cetting closer to you. Jamil jumps and runs to the door leaving your tsum behind while his tsum uses you to hide. You feel it trembling against you. The insect lands on one of your cards and you see that it is a... little ladybug.

If your reaction is something like, ‘Aww, a cute ladybug.’ Jamil will complain, outraged.

You ask Jamil to bring you some jar with a lid with holes and leaves inside. When he asks you what for, you say that you're going to put the ladybug inside and release it in Ramshackle Dorm's garden. He thinks you're crazy but that's okay as long as you lock that thing up and take it away. He brings you an empty spice jar with two leaves inside. You ask if they are poisonous plants, he sighs and says no. You smell the leaves and they seem normal.

The ladybug was on your finger, you open the jar to put it inside but it flies back towards Jamil who screams and runs away again. When the ladybug returns, it goes after Jamil-tsum, who also starts to run away through the lounge. The ladybug finally lands on your tsum's head and the two of you put the insect in the jar and close it. You tell Jamil it's done.

When he comes back, you try your best to contain your laughter as you remember him running away from a ladybug, but he notices your little smile and looks at you sullenly, despite thanking you.

Something similar seems to happen with the tsums, but your tsum dosen't contain its laughter and Jamil-tsum attacks it with what appears to be tickles. After your tsum surrenders the two seem to start cuddling each other.

Jamil is embarrassed by this and pulls his hood even further to hide his blushing face.

You were walking around the school campus with your tsum in your arms when you arrived at the Courtyard. A group of Pomefiore students focused on photographing something separated you from Vil and Rook on the other side. You and your tsum noticed that they were photographing Vil's tsum, and it seemed to be enjoying the photoshoot itself.

Your tsum jumps from your arms to the ground and tries to pass between the feet of some students to get closer to Vil-tsum. But those students notice something moving near them and look down at your tsum.

“Aw, it's another tsum.” One of the students says.

“Yeah, but this one doesn't look like anything special.” Another student comments.

“In fact, it looks so ordinary.” A third student agrees. “Could you please not interfere with Vil's Tsum photos?”

Your tsum still tried to advance a little further, but the students stopped it by putting their feet in its way. And even if you were complaining, they didn't care, they were in the middle of a photo shoot, the staff and spectators shouldn't interfere.

“Listen, if your tsum was half as beautiful as Vil's tsum we might still consider it, but I don't believe his tsum would even want to be seen with yours.”

With this, your tsum becomes too sad to keep trying and returns depressed to you. It doesn't even jump into your arms, you have to bend down and pick it up.

Meanwhile, the photo shoot stops abruptly and you hear some students say: “What's wrong?”, “Why do you want to stop suddenly?”, “Did we do something wrong?”, “Have we crossed boundaries?”

You see the students in front of you make way for Vil's tsum. When it sees you, its eyes shine, but when it sees your tsum, sad and curled up in your arms it gets upset and turns aggressively towards the students.

They realize that the tsum is upset with them for insulting your tsum, but it doesn't know which one was and they start saying it was the other one.

“You're the one who said it didn't look like anything special!”

“’In fact, it looks so ordinary.’ that's what YOU said”

“And who said their tsum wasn't even half as beautiful as Vil's tsum?”

“At least have the decency to admit your rudeness.” Vil appears, also unpleased, and with Rook beside him. “None of you have the right to decide who can or cannot approach the tsum. It is the one who decides who deserves such a privilege.”

“What a disappointment to have dormmates with such little tolerance for other unique types of beauty.” Rook says sadly. “And so insensitive too. ‘I don't believe his tsum would even want to be seen with yours.’ Which of you has the courage to claim such a phrase?” Rook looks at the three main suspects with an amused smile but a menacing look.

Both Vil and his tsum got angry upon hearing this.

“It was him!” The other two pointed to the culprit.

“It is also quite ugly to denounce someone so shamelessly.” Vil rebuked them and clapped his hands decisively twice. “The photo shoot is over. Go back to your duties. And the three of you have a meeting scheduled with me later in the Pomefiore dorm. Do I make myself clear?”

“Y-yes Housewarden. We regret our words.”

“I sure hope you do. But that won't lessen your punishment. You may go now.”

As the Pomefiore students leave, the others glaring at the three who insulted your tsum, Vil-tsum turns back to you and jumps into your arms, knowing that you would catch it. It cuddles up to your tsum as if it were comforting it, rubbing their cheeks and giving it kisses, or at least that's what it seemed like since tsum don't have mouths.

“How can they belittle such a demonstration of love and such a beautiful couple!” Rook says dramatically. “Je suis choqué!”

When you start having trouble holding two tsums at once, Vil approaches you and puts his arms around yours to help you.

“I am deeply sorry for the atrocities you heard.” He tells you in a soft voice but then smiled smugly. “You can help me think of an appropriate punishment if you like.”

Knowing that you were having difficulty holding them, your tsums end up jumping from your embrace to the ground. Your tsum still looks a little sad and Vil's tsum doesn't take its attention away from your tsum.

“Don't listen to them.” Vil says to your tsum. “Just because you don't fit their standards doesn't mean you're not beautiful. You should only care about the opinion of those who you really care about and who care about you.” He looks at you. “They are right about one thing, you two look ordinary.” He will smile in amusement if you look at him sulkily. “But who said that was ugly? The beauty of the ordinary is the most difficult to perceive, only those who truly recognize it deserve to appreciate it. And if you want to know my opinion, two extraordinary things become flashy, but one common thing brings balance and harmony. The kind of thing whose value and importance you only realize when it disappears.” He looks back at your tsum. “Don't listen to the opinions of ignorant people.”

Rook was crying with emotion and murmured how beautiful that moment had been. Your tsum, also moved by his words, jumps into Vil's arms. He almost got a fright, but he caught your tsum.

“*sigh* How cheeky.” Vil said, smiling softly. He holds your tsum as if he were holding a beloved baby.

Vil-tsum approaches you calmly, with an aura of dignity and sophistication. You lower yourself, kneeling on the ground and it climbs onto your lap. Like a cat demanding in the way you pet it.

Vil-tsum won't let anyone else take a picture of it unless they want to take a picture of it and your tsum together. If your tsum is too shy and doesn't want to take pictures, then Vil-tsum will also refuse.

Vil's tsum will try to convince him to give you and your tsum a beauty treatment. And if it doesn't succeed the first time, he'll steal Vil's cosmetics for your tsum. But since it's you, Vil ends up accepting.

Vil will have to keep an eye on Rook because he will become obsessed with your tsums together.

Your tsum was restless in Ramshackle Dorm and seemed to want to go somewhere. You picked it up and let it lead you out of the dorm. Your tsum made you pass through the Botanical Garden and the Alchemy Workshop until you reached the Hall of Mirrors, where it made you pass through the mirror that lead to Ignihyde. Once inside it doesn't take long for Ortho to appear to greet you.

“Hi (Y/N)!” He looks at the tsum in your arms. “Oh! You're back too. It's great to see you again! Are you here because of my big brother's tsum?”

And now you know why your tsum wanted to go there. Your tsum nods its little head. Ortho doesn't even bother to tell you where they are because they can only be in one place, but he says he'll have to leave because of the meeting with the Film Research Club and wishes you luck in dealing with his brother and his tsum. You go to Idia's room and knock on the door.

“Ortho? Did you forget something?” Idea asks instead of opening the door.

“No. It's me, (Y/N).”

He stammers your name in surprise. “W-w-w-what are you doing here?!”

You explain that your tsum was the one who took you to Ignihyde and that Ortho told you that an Idia lookalike had also appeared. Suddenly you hear a commotion inside the room and Idia asking in panic what it was doing.

The bedroom door opens. You see Idia lying on the floor in the middle of the room and in front of you an Idia-tsum staring at you. When your eyes meet his, his own sparkle and the blue in his hair takes on pink hues at the tips.

Your tsum jumps out of your arms and lands right on top of Idia-tsum. What no one expected, not even your tsum, was that Idia-tsum's reflex would be to take advantage of this to take your tsum, as if kidnapping it, to a kind of fortress made of cardboard boxes in the corner of the room.

“Welcome to the club.” Idia tells you as he stands up. “It also kidnapped my tablet. Now it has two captives.”

As soon as you enter, the door closes behind you again. You go to the cardboard boxes, kneel down and look inside. You see, through a gap in the boxes, the two tsums very close together playing a co-op game on the tablet.

“S-sorry about that.” Idia tells you embarrassed. “I can't get along with this tsum. I've been trying to get my tablet back for hours but it is so stubborn. ...What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

You think about it and say that if they stay calm like that until it's time for them to go back to their world, there shouldn't be any problems, right?

“OF COURSE THERE IS! MY LOGIN BONUSES! Why do you think I'm trying to get my tablet back?! Listen, I don't care what the tsums do as long as they don't cause me any problems or interfere with my games. And this tsum manages to do both. My room wasn't this disorganized before, but it keeps fighting me. You're good with delinquents, help me!”

If your tsum is really like you, it wants to get Idia-tsum out of those cardboard boxes like you want to get Idia out of his room. Which means if you have an idea you know your tsum will help you. You think about that co-op games and how Idia can be competitive when he believes he have a good chance of winning. Aka: in video games.

So you have an idea, but to do so you have to whisper the idea in the Idia's ear so the tsums don't hear. When you get closer he gets flustered. You suggest playing a 2 vs 2 game and invite the tsums to play, and encourages him to be as provocative as possible to ensure that his tsum accepts the challenge.

“And then what?" He whispers back to you "We'll have to entertain it while I get the tablet back.”

“I can handle that part.” you guarantee him.

You both follow the plan, luckily Idia has 4 controllers, probably because they are all different models. At first, Idia-tsum doesn't fall into the trap, but soon Idia's smugness kicks in

“Of course you don't accept the challenge. You don't even have opposing thumbs, how could you beat us?” The boxes move. “Or is it because you're a noob?” The boxes move again and it looks like Idia has an idea for the ultimate strike. “Oh, I see, it’s because your teammate is a normie who sucks at games.”

One of the boxes jumps like a spring and almost hits Idia in the face, as if whatever was underneath it had exploded. Idia-tsum jumps towards one of the controls with an irritated look and his hair completely red. Idia himself gives one of those scared YEPs, but for some reason he smiles when he sees that reaction from his tsum.

Your tsum jumps to the other controller next to Idia-tsum who looks at it and waves like a true duo preparing for battle. Idia gets prepered beside you and gives you a similar determined smile before he starts the game.

During the fighting game, it was as if Idia had forgotten about his tablet and whenever it seemed like you were having trouble he would get upset on your behalf and defend your character with his. His tsum did the same to your tsum.

It was only at the end of the round that Idia suddenly remembered the tablet and jumped out of his chair to pick it up from the floor next to the cardboard boxes. His tsum did the same thing, but you managed to catch it in time and held it in your arms with a strong hug. It struggled at first, but when it remembered that it was you who was grabbing it, its hair turned completely pink and it covered its eyes with its little hands.

“I collected...”  Idia raises the tablet in his hands. “The Tablet!”

He looks at you with a triumphant smile, but if you are giving his tsum affection and kisses because it’s so cute, the tips of Idia's hair will also turn pink and he will be flustered.

Your tsum will jump right up to his face and give him some affection too, like rubbing its little face against his cheek.

“H-h-h-h-have you never heard of personal space?!”

You were walking with your tsum in your arms around the school campus when Lilia suddenly appeared.

“You're back!” Lilia surprises you and your tsum by appearing upside down in front of you. “Hi (Y/N)-tsum. It's so good to see you again. This is actually perfect.” He turns around and puts his feet on the ground. “You see, a Malleus-like tsum also appeared.” You feel your tsum move happily in your arms. “And Malleus decided to throw a party for it. I was looking for you to invite you, but now that I see that your tsum is back I know that both Malleus would love to have both of you at the party.

Your tsum gets so excited that it almost falls out of your arms.

“Good thing you're excited, because we're already late. Come with me. The party has already started.”

Lilia accompanies you and your tsum to Diasomnia. The lounge is full of Diasomnia students paying attention to Malleus and his tsum. Lilia asks you to follow him down the stairs and when you reach the last step the students in front of you look at you and respectfully make way between you and the two Malleus. Like soldiers taking positions on both sides of the road.

The two Malleus look confused to see what the students were doing and when the two tsums' eyes meet your tsum jumps out of your arms and hops towards Malleus-tsum very quickly. Some of the students (Sebek included) took one step forward to stop your tsum from "attacking" Malleus' tsum, but stop immediately at Lilia's signal.

Malleus-tsum did not move, excitedly waiting for your tsum to reach it. Your tsum did indeed attack Malleus' tsum, but with love and affection. Your tsum gave it a lot of affection and Malleus' tsum simply accepted it with smiling eyes, only occasionally reciprocating the affection. Malleus also looked at your tsum with a special affection in his eyes.

You approached the tsums to get a better look at Malleus’s. It approached you with that dignity that Malleus himself also has, looked at you for a few seconds and bowed. All the other students at Diasmonia suddenly did the same. Even Sebek, although he did so a little reluctantly.

You bowed back and asked if you could pet it. The other students looked at you again with extreme attention and some held their breath. Malleus-tsum pondered, creating suspense in the lounge, but then it made that happy tsum sound and jumped into your arms, super happy. It accepts any and all affection coming from you and it doesn't matter how strong your hug is, just like Malleus his tsum is also extremely strong and resistant.

Meanwhile, your tsum also jumps into Malleus' arms without warning. Hence the students' gasps echoing through the lounge.

“So fearless, jumping towards me like that.” Malleus smiled smugly. “You really don't fear that I might crush you?”

The other students were wary, but your tsum didn't seem to care what he was saying and jumped onto the top of his head, nestling between his two horns. Once again the students gasped in fear. Only Lilia and Silver were calm. Lilia was laughing.

“My liege, please forgive this insulting-” Sebek said, but was quickly interrupted by Malleus's good-natured laughter.

“How cheeky. I wonder who gave you permission to go up there.” He raises his arm to bring his hand closer to your Tsum in his head, touching its little nose affectionately before patting its head.

While you were hugging Malleus-tsum, one of its horns stung your cheek. It immediately stopped and looked at you worriedly when it heard you say ‘ouch’. When it realized it had hurt you, its little eyes watered. You said it was okay, that it hadn't really hurt you, it was just a little sting, you were fine, you hadn't even gotten a mark. But even so, you had to keep comforting it.

After that, Malleus-tsum wanted to dance with you and Malleus with your tsum. You did so. And the next one, the two tsums wanted to dance together. Following this same logic, Malleus invited you to dance.

At the end of the party, when your tsum gets tired, Malleus-tsum will accompany it to you and Malleus who are sitting together. But your tsum will lie on Malleus' lap, and he will pet it lovingly. Likewise, Malleus-tsum will lie down on your lap, even if it is not tired. It is extremely happy for you to pet it.

Malleus laughs happily when your tsum turns over onto its back so he can give it belly rubs.

Malleus-tsum looks at you and Malleus and thinks you're not close enough. It jumps from your lap to your side and gives you a little nudge on the leg with one of its little horns. You jump and lean against Malleus. You apologize, but Malleus still puts an arm around you. And now satisfied, his tsum returns to your lap, which is so close to Malleus' lap that the two tsums can nestle together too.

You were walking around the school campus with your tsum, but it got tired of always walking in your arms and now it was jumping around by your side.

You were crossing the bridge that led to the Mystery Shop grounds when your tsum, who was jumping on the edge of the bridge, slipped and fell into the water below you. The current took your tsum to the lake in front of the Hall of Mirrors building, you followed it running. Your tsum managed to grab onto a ledge in the rocks very close to the waterfall.

You didn't know what to do. You couldn't get down there and there was nothing to help you.

But at that moment something jumped into the water near your Tsum, grabbed onto it and grew so big that it was blocking the passage to the waterfall. It was Silver's tsum!

And speaking of him, Silver appears right after and uses his magic to make your tsum levitate and fly back into your arms. But what about his tsum? The water coming from the lake was accumulating and creating more pressure on the tsum.

But the two Silvers seemed to understand each other well and the Tsum quickly returned to its normal size and let itself fall down the waterfall, but Silver managed to use his magic to catch it in the middle of the fall and bring it back to land safe and sound.

Your tsum jumped out of your arms to hug Silver-tsum, who hugged it back, or at least the tsum version of a strong and affectionate hug.

If you do the same to Silver to thank him, he will be surprised at first, but will hug you back gently with a smile on his face.

“I'm glad you and your tsum are safe now.” Silver tells you. “My tsum and I fell asleep nearby. We both woke up to the sound of something falling into the water and your fright.”

Neither your tsum nor silver's tsum wanted to let go of each other.

“Were you heading back to your dorm? We will accompany you.”

He used his magic to dry your tsum and you for grabbing it right after it came out of the water. Your tsums seemed to agree on something and then your tsum jumped into Silver's arms while Silver-tsum jumped into yours. Your tsum was nestling in Silver's arms, while his tsum was on guard and alert to your surroundings.

“I think they want me to protect your tsum while my lookalike protects you.” Silver assumes, placing his arms protectively around your tsum.

You go to Ramshackle Dorm together and as soon as you arrive in the lounge, your two tsums go to the sofa and snuggle up very close. And now in a safe place and next to your tsum, Silver-tsum falls asleep very soundly. Both you and your tsum find it funny how soft he looks when he sleeps so deeply.

“There goes another attempt to stay awake for as long as possible.” Silver says smiling, also finding it funny. “But I can't blame it. I also feel very relaxed around you.”

You stay with your tsums in the lounge. There's a good chance Silver will fall asleep next to you. Or on your lap if you let him.

If you would like to read more from me, you can find it in my pinned post: INDEX

[oneforthemunny]

idk if he's included but i'm going to shoot my shot anyways. what's something ex-husband!eddie does for ex-wife!reader, that others would think nothing of, that turns her on & has her second guessing the divorce solely bc of how hot he is? if that makes any sense at all lolll

shoot it bc i love him lmao. he's so hot. and there's honestly nothing hotter than him just being a dad sorry!!!! he's hot at it!!!!!

contains: a little smut but nothing graphic. they're fighting ofc lol.

"Luce, where's your tap shoes?" You frown, looking around the three year old's messy room, cluttered with toys and clothes that you hadn't got a chance to clean, or supervise her cleaning.

"I dunno," Lucy hummed, dragging her stuffed elephant along her sheets towards the other stuffed animals. "I thinks Daddy has them."

"You left them at dad's?" You swallow back a huff of irritation, eyes pinching closed.

You and Eddie weren't exactly on speaking terms at the moment. After a few weeks of bliss, of you nearly caving and letting him move back in, agreeing to work it out in therapy and give it another shot, he'd done what he always had- pissed you off. A bickering that turned into a fight, that led you both back to your separate spaces. Over what? You weren't exactly sure you even remembered.

It had been four days exactly that you had managed to avoid Eddie. Not speaking at the exchanging of the kids, you'd flat out ignored his greeting to you, and now, because of a stupid pair of tap shoes, you'd have to give in and speak to him.

"Hello?" He picked up on the third ring.

"Hey, it's me." You quipped, lips rolling around your snippy tone. "Lucy said she left her tap shoes at your house."

"Yeah, she did." Eddie's tone was just as biting, matching your lack of amusement.

You huffed. "Well, she needs them. She has dance in thirty minutes."

"So come get them?" Eddie scoffed.

"Nice. Sure, Ed, I'll just go out of my way to come get them because you couldn't remember to pack them. Way to go." You snapped sarcastically, venom dripping in your tone. You hoped he could feel your glare.

"Oh? This is my- of course, it's my fuckin' fault."

"It is your fuck-" You turned, looking to make sure Lucy was still in front of the television eating her snack. "It is your fuckin' fault, you ass. You want to act like you're dad of the year, and you don't even know her dance schedule?"

"I'm not doin' this with you, alright? I'm gonna hang up if you're just going to be a bitch." Eddie snapped. You could picture him, that tone too familiar. His jaw clenched tight, nostrils flaring the way they did when he was pissed. Maybe his fists clenched, forearm veins popping out.

"Just- Can you just bring them to the dance studio by four please?" You rolled your eyes. "I'm already running late. I have to get gas and get Lucy dressed."

"Fine." Eddie snapped. You didn't get a chance to reply, the other line ending with a harsh click.

Twenty-six minutes later, you were pulling into the dance studio. Between a three year old who refused to get dressed, waiting for pumps, and the unusual traffic in Hawkins, your nerves were shot and you were cutting it close. You were glad Jude was at a sleepover at the Harrington's for the night.

Eddie was there when you pulled in, standing outside his car, smoking a cigarette. You grit your teeth at the sight of him, lips wrapped around the stick, blowing smoke. You hated how your stomach flipped with excitement.

"Do you have them?" You stepped out of the car, moving to the backseat, barely glancing over at him.

"Hello to you too, Sunshine." Eddie huffed sarcastically, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stepping on it.

You rolled your eyes, trying to soften your face when you opened the back car door to get Lucy out. "Daddy brought your shoes, so let's put them on so you'll be ready to go." You cooed gently, unstrapping her out, hoisting her on your hip.

"Eddie, can you hurry-" You stopped when he emerged, little tiny tap shoes hooked on his pinky, Lucy's pink dance bag slung over his shoulder.

"I got it, Mama." Eddie's tone was light but more of a snarl. You didn't respond, eyes rolling down his frame instead.

Your tongue rolled over your bottom lip, watching him put her little shoes on, fastening the tiny buckles. You lingered behind them when he walked her in, her little hand in his, the pink bag slung over his shoulder. You hated how weak in the knees it made you, seeing him be a dad- be a good dad. And dammit, he might have been a shit husband at times, but he was a good dad.

"Thank you." Your arms stayed folded over your chest but your tone was lighter when he came back out from dropping Lucy off. "That really saved me a lot of time."

"Don't mention it." Eddie's tone was still tight, nerves rattled with built up tension from the past days.

He started towards his car, you followed close behind him. "What are you doing now?"

Eddie turned at your tone, carefully. "What?"

You huffed, eyes rolling big and dramatic. "What are you doing now?" You repeated.

"Nothing." Eddie was cautious, unsure- even if he was sure, he was always a little unsure with you these days.

"Well, I mean, do you want to wait with me? Then maybe we can go get dinner. Me, you, and Luce? It's just us girls tonight." Your eyes rolled over his frame, his tight band tee.

Eddie squinted lightly. "Yeah? Sure. That'd be nice."

"Good." You hummed, opening the back seat. "Could you help me out? I can't get this back seat to lay down again. I think it might be stuck." It was not nearly as smooth as you wanted it to be, you never really were, but Eddie didn't mind. He swallowed back his smirk, scanning the parking lot. Good thing he'd picked the back spot, away from everyone.

He had you pinned against the seats, rutting into you mercilessly while you clawed at him, hands tangling in his hair pulling him closer and close. It was quick then, fulfilling but quick. You both had a giddy glow when you picked up Lucy, hoping the other parents wouldn't notice your tousled hair.

Later that night, after the dinner invitation had turned into an invite over, Eddie got to have you the way he wanted. Face buried between your thighs, his way of apologizing, while you shoved your face into a pillow- his pillow, trying to muffle your moans.

[ohimsummer]

suguru and his puppyboy! satoru, who gets so, so lonely whenever suguru goes away. he waits faithfully by the door and, if too much time passes, eventually acts out in retaliation, whether it be by ransacking the pantry, chewing marks into the furniture, or ripping suguru’s clothes to shreds. anything that may deter suguru from leaving him for too long.

so, suguru decides to get satoru a gift: his own puppy! hybrid companion. he brings you home the very next day after satoru emptied out the pantry and got himself sick. no more of that (hopefully).

suguru pulls out the keys to the front door. he doesn't even need to give a call—satoru is pouncing on him as soon as the door opens, attracted by the jingle of his keys in the lock.

“suguuu!”, he yips, wrapping arms around suguru and nosing against his cheek. “i missed you so, so mu–“

he pauses. the new scent on his owner has satoru’s ears perked, tail stiff with apprehension, and head cocked to one side. and it’s then that he notices the pretty, new friend in front of him.

suguru leads you both to the living room, where he gestures towards the couch. satoru is quick to plop down on the cushions, dragging you with him, where he immediately puts his nose to work, holding you by the shoulders as he sniffs you from head to toe. he gives you a few licks seemingly at random, lingering in certain spots and his bushy, white tail gives a few tentative wags. you're similar, sniffing at any part of him your nose can reach, a curious tail also wagging behind you.

suguru keeps a watchful eye as his two puppies grow acquainted, ready to pull satoru away at the first sign of aggression, though thankfully there is none. he thinks it's safe enough to turn his back for a few minutes to go get a drink from the kitchen. when he leaves, you two are sniffing around each other's faces. he thinks satoru likes you. things are going well.

suguru realizes just how well things are going when he comes back to satoru mounting you already.

it takes a considerable amount of tugging at satoru's collar before suguru can separate you both. you have the nerve to look confused, sprawled out on the couch, wagging tail slowing to a stop, ears perked and head tilted. you look over through wide, puppy-dog eyes as you’re no longer caged between satoru’s arms. you're cute, suguru thinks. he's trying to get you acquainted with your new surroundings in a new home, and here you are ready to be acquainted with satoru's cock.

ever since the first incident, suguru can't leave the two of you alone for more than a minute. satoru takes every opportunity as a chance to breed you. most of the time, suguru can come back in time to catch him licking at you through your panties, or shoving your legs up to fold you in half. except that one time on your third day when satoru already had your panties ripped off and his tongue shoved between your folds. and suguru can tell from the way your tail wags, claws digging into the mattress, curious whines falling from your lips, that you don't have a single complaint.

suguru is pretty on top of things for the first few weeks. he didn’t want to heavily supervise the two of you like children, but he also knows that if he looks away for a second too long, he will end up with a pregnant hybrid and then an apartment full of puppies.

though, despite his precautions, suguru was not careful enough.

it was just a quick trip to the store, he wasn't even gone for more than fifteen minutes. you two are in a different position than when he left, but satoru is fidgety and cuddly anyway so that doesn't ring any alarm bells. everything looks as it should. surely his satoru—the messy one who can barely move an inch after cumming—couldn't have bred you and then cleaned up everything to look normal in less than fifteen minutes?

"your puppy is doing well so far.", the vet tells suguru during what was supposed to be a routine checkup. "they should be expecting in a couple months."

he's confused. "uhm...expecting what...?"

she looks up from her clipboard, a curious brow raised. "...a litter? sir, your hybrid is pregnant."

and that’s how satoru is introduced to a chastity cage.

suguru’s intention was never to end up taking care of so many hybrids—not so soon, anyway. just you and satoru were more than enough. but now, things have changed: you’re expecting two little babies soon and it’s all because satoru couldn’t keep his urges in check. so, a few weeks before you’re due, suguru pulls out the cage he ordered.

it’s a tough battle—of course satoru doesn’t want those privileges revoked, but in the end, suguru pins him down and locks him in. it’s a punishment satoru will have to endure.

to be fair, it’s not 24/7. only when suguru knows he’ll be away, even if it’s a mere twenty minutes because apparently that’s more than enough time for satoru to finish what he can start.

and satoru despises it. he whines, he begs, he cries to suguru to please take the cage off, that he can behave this time around, that he won’t get you pregnant again ‘i swear!’. when that doesn’t work, he resorts to the silent treatment, though with how clingy and attention-driven he is, that of course results in failure a few days in.

it takes a year before suguru considers removing the cage for good. satoru is adamant that he can control himself around you better, and has even been on his best behavior since suguru put him in the chastity cage (besides a few incidents when you were in heat, but those were understandable for suguru).

with the cage now off, suguru finds himself lingering around a little longer before ever leaving satoru alone with you. but his worries seem to be in vain. satoru is busy caring for you and his pups, and showing suguru he can be fully trusted once more.

during heats or ruts, suguru locks satoru away again because it would be stupid not to, but otherwise, satoru remains a newly freed hybrid. sure, he’s extra, extra cuddly and he eats you out like his life depends on it, but there hasn’t been another surprise pregnancy (suguru made sure to get you checked at the vet multiple times for the first six months).

time flies by, and satoru remains an obedient hybrid. there were maybe a handful of times suguru had to stop him from going too far, but it was never so bad that he thought about putting satoru back in the chastity cage. it seemed there wouldn’t be another 'accident', and suguru eventually decides, after a few more months, that he doesn't need to watch you two as closely, anymore.

it is maybe a week after this decision that he comes home to loud moans and the wet sounds of skin on skin.

he follows the noise to the bedroom and discovers satoru bending you over, shoving your face into the sheets as he lets out a loud groan—evidently having came in you again for the nth time.

satoru yelps as he's yanked away by the collar, but the damage has been done. you're gushing cum down your legs, body trembling with exhaustion as you collapse into a heap, stuttering out breaths with fingers clinging onto the comforter.

your black-haired owner looks you over to make sure you're alright, before casting a dirty glare at the perpetrator with ready excuses on his tongue.

"listen, listen, it's not my fault, okay!", satoru huffs, ears folded back as he avoids suguru's stare. "i couldn't help myself, they smelled so sweet and it's been so longgg!"

suguru doesn't even care to listen. "once i'm done bathing them, you're going back in the cage."

a fuzzy, white tail droops in defeat. he doesn't even argue, but in satoru's head he thinks those final creampies were worth it.

🐶: @staryukis @teddybeartoji @lxnarphase @deepenthevoid @bubblez-blop @luvvmae @risuola @bunnymacaron @hellkaiserinphoenix @cinnamoneve @satoruxsc @starlightanyaaa @domainexpansionmypants @gigiiiiislife @sherb3t @jianyuu4mii @xinfvl @blindbabycadder @kisstoru @the-monster-under-the-bed @manyno @sugu-love @leilalilox @sataraxia @apatauaia @luvvforliaa @purplegemadventures @v0ctin @kissesfrombelle @babytoshiii @biscuitsngravie @panthrology @blkkizzat

[sixeyesonathiel]

what happens when an overworked magical girl from another anime franchise crashes into satoru gojo’s world?

a/n : consider this as a pilot or something so pleeeasee do tell if y’all see the vision hehe. i might write this either as oneshot or series, crack treated seriously, fluff and fix it :3 this is pre-hidden inventory arc.

the sky tears.

satoru doesn’t notice it at first. he’s too busy kicking the hell out of a training dummy, sweat clinging to the back of his neck as the sun swelters high above jujutsu tech’s back field. his shirt clings damply to his back, white hair tousled and sticking to his forehead in unruly, sweat-drenched clumps. every kick sends a dull echo through the otherwise quiet yard, and his brows are furrowed, teeth gritted—not out of effort, but boredom.

it’s supposed to be a solo mission—a recon exercise, or so yaga said, but more like a punishment for cutting class again. the kind that comes with no supervision, no curse threats, just him, a dummy, and the blistering heat. satoru checks his watch for the fifth time in ten minutes. detention by any other name would still be just as tedious.

then the air goes still.

the cicadas stop screaming. the clouds part with unnatural precision, like curtains pulled by unseen hands. the temperature spikes—no, drops—and something surges through the atmosphere with a pulse so loud it rattles his bones. his body stiffens, spine prickling with instinct. midnight blue eyes narrow behind tinted lenses, sensing the shift in reality before his other senses can process it.

and then you crash into the earth.

not fall. not descend. crash. like a meteor. like a magical girl-shaped missile. light explodes in a pastel burst of ribbons, iridescent butterflies, and shattering sakura petals. the air rings with the high-pitched chime of otherworldly bells, the tinkle of crystal stars, and the unmistakable sugary pop of transformation magic gone sideways. the ground trembles beneath it.

the training field goes silent except for the sound of scorched grass and the faint, whimsical hum of residual transformation magic. a stray butterfly, translucent and shimmering with cosmic dust, flutters past satoru’s ear before dissolving into sparkles.

satoru blinks behind his sunglasses, now slightly askew on his nose. he adjusts them with a slow push of his index finger, head tilting, brows raised beneath snowy bangs that flutter faintly in the shifting breeze.

“…huh.”

in the crater, you groan.

you’re face-down in a shallow pit, skirt ruffled, hair scorched at the ends, and your transformation outfit—sky-pink bodice with cream lace trim, crystalline brooch shaped like a winking star, thigh-high boots with wing-shaped heels that somehow remain pristinely white despite your crash landing—is smoking gently at the edges. your star-shaped wand lies beside you like a fallen weapon of cosmic justice, occasionally sputtering pathetic little sparks as if trying to reboot itself.

above your head, a tiny, winged creature that looks like a deranged mix between a rabbit and a plushie on its fifth espresso flutters in frantic circles, trailing stardust and anxiety in equal measure.

“you’ve breached the astral veil! the interdimensional tether’s fried! we overshot by three star realms!” it shrieks, voice unnaturally high, paws clutching at its fuzzy cheeks in distress. “this is NOT how galactic school exchanges are supposed to go! we’re so off-schedule! the stellar alignment council is going to have my tail!”

satoru approaches cautiously, one hand in his pocket, the other hovering near his weapon just in case. his steps are deliberate, almost lazy, yet somehow soundless. the breeze tugs lightly at the hem of his uniform jacket, ruffling his collar and loosening the tension in his shoulders. cursed energy flows through him, ready but controlled, his limitless technique humming just beneath his skin.

“uh,” he says, peering over the crater’s edge. “you okay down there?”

“no,” you groan, rolling onto your back. your eyes are half-lidded, voice hoarse, lashes clumped with ash and what might be leftover mascara from yesterday. there are dark circles under your eyes that no amount of magical transformation can hide. “i have two essays due, i haven’t slept in thirty-six hours, i still have cram school, i fought six darklings at dawn, had to seal a nightmare portal during lunch break, my transformation pen is running on fumes, and now i’ve apparently crash-landed in a world with no ley lines.”

you pause.

“…and mipple won’t shut up.”

“you ripped a hole in space,” mipple screeches, buzzing frantically around your head, leaving a trail of panicked sparkles. “this is not sustainable hero behavior! you need rest! regulation mana! a snack! the magical girl handbook specifically states that cosmic defenders should maintain a balanced sleep schedule and nutrient intake! page forty-seven, paragraph three!”

satoru blinks, slowly crouching beside the crater. his weight settles on the balls of his feet, elbows resting loosely on his knees. his expression is unreadable behind the glare of his glasses, but there’s a hint of genuine curiosity in the tilt of his head. “you’re not from around here, huh.”

“gee, what gave it away?” you mutter, dragging your gloved hand down your face. a heart-shaped gem on your glove catches the light, flickering weakly. “was it the interdimensional wormhole or the talking plushie?”

satoru grins. his teeth flash white in the sun, a hint of mischief curling at the edge of his lips. “the sparkles.”

mipple flits a fast, nervous circle around him, sniffing the cursed energy. its tiny nose twitches, ears flattening against its head. “her readings are flat. nothing’s reacting. it’s like this whole place runs on… rot.” mipple’s eyes widen to comical proportions. “this isn’t a darkness realm, is it? please tell me we haven’t crashed into a darkness realm. the paperwork for that is a nightmare.”

“charming,” you deadpan.

“you’re leaking glitter,” satoru says helpfully, pointing to the trail of iridescent dust that seems to be following your every movement like dejected confetti.

you sit up with a scowl, brushing at your skirt with short, angry movements. flecks of glitter and ash catch the sunlight, making you shimmer like a very irate disco ball. the ribbon in your hair droops sadly to one side, and your magical girl tiara is slightly crooked. “great. fantastic. this is exactly what i needed today. another crisis. do you people have dimensional transit hubs or are you still in the dirt age?”

“dirt age?”

“never mind,” you sigh, pushing back a strand of hair that falls immediately back into your face. “point me to your nearest leyline stabilizer and maybe i can reverse the jump. preferably before i miss another math test. i’m barely passing as it is.”

“uh,” satoru squints, pushing his glasses higher with a knuckle, fingers smudged with sweat and dust. “we’ve got vending machines? and i think i saw a fortune teller at the corner store once.” he pauses, then adds with complete seriousness, “the milk bread is pretty good.”

mipple facepalms in mid-air with an audible poof, leaving a tiny puff of glitter.

“okay,” you say, standing slowly, wobbling. your knees wobble like a newborn deer’s. “okay. it’s fine. i just need a second. maybe ten. maybe an hour. or a nap. or the sweet release of death. or caffeine. ideally all of the above.”

you stumble.

there’s a flicker of light. your form glitches slightly—one ribbon vanishing, then another, your skirt shortening then lengthening, your magical aura flickering like a dying lightbulb—and with a tired sigh and the sad deflating sound of a party balloon, your transformation dissolves into a shimmer of pale light. your star-shaped wand vanishes with a chime, and the magical embellishments melt away like soap bubbles.

you’re left in a rumpled high school uniform: blazer, skirt, tie askew, one sock missing, the other scrunched around your ankle. your hair’s a mess, sticking to your cheeks. your face is streaked with dirt and interstellar ash. your school bag materializes with a sad plop beside you, spilling out a half-finished homework assignment, three empty energy drink cans, and what appears to be emergency chocolate.

satoru catches your elbow without thinking, touch light and instinctive. ��whoa there, sparkles.”

you slap his hand away with the strength of a very tired moth batting at a streetlamp. “don’t touch me, i’m radioactive with stress. also, i shock people sometimes when i’m low on magic. it’s not pretty.”

he snorts—then, belatedly, catches a proper glimpse of your face.

he goes still.

there’s ash in your lashes, a scratch on your cheek, and you look like you’ve clawed your way out of a magical apocalypse—your hair is a mess, your uniform is wrinkled in ways that defy physics, and there’s a sparkly band-aid on your knee with little moons on it—but still, for some reason, all he can think is: she’s pretty.

heat prickles across his ears. he shoves his sunglasses back up his nose, suddenly very interested in a patch of grass beside his foot. he scratches the back of his neck, pretending to study a dandelion like it’s the most complex thing he’s ever seen. like he hasn’t faced down curses ten times more dangerous than a tired high school girl who occasionally sparkles.

and for a second, everything’s quiet again. awkward. your breathing slows, the wind picks up. somewhere, a cicada remembers how to scream.

“listen,” he says, voice a little lower, a little softer. “this isn’t a leyline whatever, but we’ve got a place to crash nearby. and sugar. and air conditioning. i mean, if you don’t mind hanging out with some weirdos.” he gestures vaguely in the direction of the school building. “though, from what i’m seeing, you’d probably fit right in.”

you glare at him, narrowing your eyes like you’re trying to set him on fire with sheer willpower. you cross your arms, wobble slightly, then uncross them when you realize it’s taking too much energy to maintain the posture. mipple lands on your shoulder, tiny paws patting at your cheek in a comforting gesture.

“mipple,” you say slowly. “scan him for monster corruption.”

“he’s clean,” mipple says, whiskers twitching as it sniffs the air around satoru. “just stupid. and full of something weird. but not evil-weird. more like… chaos-weird.” it pauses, then adds helpfully, “he smells like blue raspberry slushies and bad decisions.”

“fine,” you grumble, bending down to stuff your homework back into your bag. “lead the way, mister. but if you try anything funny, i still have enough magic to turn you into something small and amphibious.”

satoru flashes a grin that tugs crooked at the corner, brushing a hand through his damp hair. it fluffs back into place, soft and silver, catching the sun in a halo-bright sheen. “that’s what i thought.”

the glitter trails behind you as you limp off the field, exhausted, annoyed, and absolutely, cosmically done with today. a butterfly manifestation charm falls from your pocket, too depleted to even flutter. your magical girl compact beeps once, twice, then falls silent, the battery icon blinking sadly in the corner.

satoru watches you from the corner of his eye, still grinning, a faint pink on his cheeks. his hand drifts briefly to the spot where your elbow had been, fingers curling slightly. the residual warmth lingers, along with the faintest trace of stardust.

he’s never met anyone like you before.

and watching you now—dragging your feet but still holding your head high—he knows he never will again. behind him, the training dummy collapses with a defeated thud, like even it can’t keep up with the kind of day you’re having.

you don’t notice.

you’re already walking off, one hand adjusting your sleeve like you didn’t just nearly destroy the field. it’s the kind of tired that comes from trying too hard, too often. but you carry it like it’s nothing.

satoru watches you go, something warm and strange curling in his chest.

yeah.

he’s definitely in trouble.

[kdyq]

A Warrior’s vigil

Ambessa x fem!reader

Context: ambessa takes care of you while your sick

The first sign that your illness came in the form of a soft cough a sound Ambessa would usually dismiss if it weren’t for how it lingered filled by a faint wince.

She turned from the window of your shared grand estate she had been gazing at the distant horizon and fixed her gaze on the source of the sound.

You, her Darling your usual high energy dulled as you’re seated in a velvet chair by the fire. “ You’re unwell..” Ambessa stated her tone leaving no room for denial.

You move your eyes from the fire and glanced up at her “It’s just a cold. Nothing to worry about” you say as your lips curling into a weak smile.

Ambessa stepped forward. Her heavy boots echoing across the stone floor. “ I don’t tolerate lies, especially from you.” She says as she place the back of her hand against your forehead her expression darking front the warmth. “ You have a fever. Go to bed, now.”

“I can mange—“ she cuts you off. “Y/N.” Her voice was a low growl not harsh but commanding “Do not argue with me.”

Within moments Ambessa swept you into your shared bedroom her efficiency t even someone meticulous as her. The silk sheets were freshly changed and the servant went rushing to fetch a physician.

You lay against a mountain of pillows as you watch Ambessa with amused and exhaustion. “You’re resting me as one of your soldiers.” You say

Ambessa raised an eyebrow as she placed a of tea and broth on the nightstand .”If my soldiers had half of your worth I would. Now drink this.”

You chuckled softly our laughter turning into a cough. Ambessa’s jaw tightened as she handed you the steaming hot ginger tea.

The physician arrived swiftly a nervous young woman who avoided Ambessa’s sharp gaze. She examined you under the warrior’s scrutinizing supervision stammering her recommendations for rest and to hydrate before scurrying out.

Ambessa stayed by your side, her usual air of dominance tempered by quiet vigilance. She brought soup, adjusted blankets, and even read aloud from one of your favorite books, though her deep, commanding voice seemed ill suited to the whimsical tale.

“You’re softer than I expected,” you teased her your voice hoarse but playful. Ambessa smirked. “Do not mistake care for softness. I protect what is mine whether from armies or illnesses.” She leaned closer her hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your damp forehead. “You happen to be mine.”

The days passed, and though your fever subsided Ambessa’s attention never wavered. Even when you began to regain your strength the warrior insisted you rest with no argument.

“Ambessa, I can walk to the garden without fainting,” You protested one morning, your color returned.

“You’ll stay in bed until I say otherwise,” Ambessa replied, crossing her arms over her broad chest.

You sighed dramatically, but her eyes were soft. “You’re insufferable, you know.”

“And you’re reckless. A perfect match.”

When you were finally well enough to move about freely, Ambessa resumed her usual composure, though she still watched you like a hawk.

“You should let me dote on you sometime,” you say as you sat by the fire one evening, her hand brushing against Ambessa’s.

The warrior raised an eyebrow. “Unlikely.” But the faintest smile tugged at her lips.

“You’re lucky I’m patient,” You quipped.

Ambessa leaned in, her voice a low murmur. “And you’re lucky I’ll move mountains for you. Just don’t get sick again. It’s inefficient.”

You laughed, your laughter ringing through the room like music, and Ambessa allowed herself a rare moment of softness, her hand resting gently over your hand.

“THE END”

AN/ : OMGGGG MY FIRST STORY EVERRRR. MORE IS TO COMEEEE I’ve literally really written a lot.

[solxamber]

Receiving Gifts on White Day with: Ignihyde

go here for other dorms

(platonic ortho)

Idia Shroud

The door opens to reveal... nothing.

Then—slowly—a mechanical arm extends from the shadows, shoving a perfectly wrapped box into your hands before retracting at the speed of light.

“…Idia?”

There is a long silence.

Then, from around the corner:

“…H-Hey.”

You step outside to find Idia lurking behind the wall, hood up, head down from pure social anxiety. He refuses to meet your eyes.

“…Are you hiding?”

“Nooooo,” he drawls, clearly lying.

You sigh and open the box. Inside, you find an incredible assortment of sweets, each one so ridiculously precise that you know he used some kind of advanced tech to make them.

“These are amazing,” you say honestly, popping one into your mouth. “How’d you make them?”

Idia fidgets. “Um. Okay, so. Technically I made Ortho do the physical assembly part because precision is kinda important for confectionery, but like, I supervised the whole process and—uh—calculated the best temperature and consistency for each—”

“Idia.” You grin, stepping closer. “You researched candy science for me?”

His hair immediately flares pink.

“W-WHAT? NO. SHUT UP.”

Before he can bolt, you grab his hoodie and pull him in for a quick kiss.

He short-circuits.

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips, grinning.

His soul leaves his body.

Ortho Shroud

Your doorbell rings. When you open it, you are met with Ortho—floating midair with a perfectly wrapped gift box in his hands.

“Good morning!” he chirps. “Happy White Day!”

You blink. “Ortho? This is for me?”

He nods enthusiastically. “Yep! I synthesized special data to determine what kind of sweets you’d like most, and then I custom-programmed the cooking process to create the ultimate White Day treat!”

You open the box and find an absolutely stunning array of confections—flawless in every way.

“…Ortho, these look incredible.”

Ortho beams. “I optimized the process to ensure they’d be both aesthetically pleasing and delicious! Plus, I made sure to use the highest quality ingredients possible for maximum flavor and texture satisfaction!”

You grin. “This is amazing. Thank you so much, Ortho.”

He tilts his head. “No problem! You’re one of my favorite people, so I wanted to make sure you got something extra special!”

Your heart melts.

Then, Ortho suddenly perks up. “Oh! And if anyone tries to give you subpar White Day gifts, let me know! I can issue a gentle warning.”

You squint. “Ortho. What kind of warning.”

Ortho smiles innocently. “Just a little reminder that inferior gifts are unacceptable.”

….You have concerns.

Masterlist

[honeyncherry]

we never tell - joe burrow

summary some mistakes only happen once — others walk through the front door and say "hi" to your mom

content 18+, suggestive, angst

"Did you take the pie out?!"

Your mother’s voice slices through the kitchen, sharp enough to rattle the glassware. You jump, nearly dropping the bowl of mashed potatoes you’ve been absently stirring for the last five minutes.

“What pie?” you ask, half-turning, but she’s already storming past you, yanking the oven door open with the kind of urgency that suggests an actual crisis is unfolding.

“The pecan pie!” she exclaims, fanning at the billowing heat. “The only thing your Grandma asked for, and I swore I told someone to take it out fifteen minutes ago.”

From outside, your dad’s voice drifts in, relaxed and completely unconcerned. “Everything alright in there?”

“No, it is not alright,” your mother yells, slamming the oven shut with enough force to rattle the stovetop. “It’s burnt.”

Your brother, who has been supervising (read: drinking beer while Dad does all the work), slides the back door open and peers inside. He takes one look at the situation: the scorched pie, your mom’s mounting frustration, the way you’re gripping the counter like bracing for impact.

“Doesn’t look that bad,” he mutters.

Your mother whirls around on him so fast that he takes an instinctive step back. He quickly retreats outside without another word — back to whatever life-threatening experiment he and your father are attempting with the turkey.

The kitchen reeks of cinnamon, nutmeg, and impending disaster. The house is thick with the kind of tension that comes from too many relatives packed into one space for a holiday. The sound of football blares from the living room, clashing with your aunts' chatter at the dining table.

And yet, beneath all of it — beneath the burnt pie, the inevitable migraine, the impending cycle of small talk you’d rather gouge your eyes out than endure; there’s something else.

Something off.

It’s been crawling up your spine all morning. Clinging to you like static. No matter how many times you roll your shoulders, shake out your hands, try to shove it down, it sticks.

Because you’re carrying a secret.

A big one.

The doorbell rings. A welcome interruption.

“Can someone get that?!” your mom huffs while elbow-deep in pie dough, already moving on from disaster to damage control.

Your feet move on autopilot.

You pull open the door.

Robin Burrow beams at you, bundled against the November chill, her blond hair peeking out from under a knitted beanie. “Happy Thanksgiving, sweetheart!” she says, pulling you into a warm hug before you can even register the cold seeping into the house.

Robin Burrow, who has been in your life for as long as you can remember.

Robin Burrow, who’s practically a second mom.

Robin Burrow — who is very much not the problem.

She and your mother met in elementary school and never really drifted apart. Not through high school, not through college, not even after careers and marriages and kids forced miles between them. They always found their way back to each other, the kind of lifelong friendship that made family out of people who weren’t technically blood.

The Burrows were always there.

When you were little, Robin was the mom who never let you feel left out. The one who snuck you extra cookies when no one was looking. Who let you curl up next to her on their couch during sleepovers when the boys had long since passed out. Who kept bandaids in her purse for scraped knees, and kissed the tops of your heads before sending you back outside to play.

And there was Jimmy whose deep voice and easy laughter always filled a room. If Robin was a second mom, then Jimmy was a second dad. Miraculously, one of your father’s closest friends. Always at every backyard barbecue and every football game. All milestones your families celebrated together.

Then, of course, there were the boys.

You were always a little on the outside when it came to them. Not in a bad way, just in a natural way.

The Burrow brothers were thick as thieves, and your brother fit seamlessly into their chaos. You were the wildcard, the youngest, always just a step behind.

At first, it was all of them: Jamie, Dan, Joe, and your brother. A whirlwind of shoving and shouting and sprinting barefoot across the backyard. But as the years passed, the older Burrow boys got driver’s licenses, girlfriends, and jobs. They didn’t have time for reckless backyard football or pointless dares anymore.

Eventually, it was just Joe and your brother.

Their bond only tightened as the others moved on.

And you?

You were still on the outskirts.

Your brother and Joe let you join in on football games when they needed an extra person, but even then, you weren’t really one of them.

Joe was polite. Quiet. A familiar presence, never more, never less.

A fixture at every family event, a familiar face in a sea of familiar faces. You exchanged small talk: How’s school? How’s football? when your moms forced you into conversation, but it never went deeper than that.

Joe was your brother’s friend.

A name you knew.

A person you’d never really known.

And yet, your breath catches — because now, that Joe is stepping inside.

Except he’s not the same to you.

His broad frame fills the doorway, cold air curling around him like it doesn’t want to let go. He drops a duffel bag (no doubt packed for the annual flag football game) to the floor with a quiet thud.

His shoulders rise with an exhale, the muscles in his neck flexing before his hands shove into the pockets of his LSU sweatshirt. The sweatshirt hangs loose over his frame, but you know what’s underneath.

You remember it.

His hair is still damp, fresh from a shower. The sight of it sends a jolt straight through you because you can recall what it looked like last night — messy from your hands, sticking to his forehead, his jaw slack, breath ragged.

He was wrecked.

Because of you.

You remember the way he tipped his head back with a groan, the way his fingers dug into your skin, the way his voice cracked when he said your name.

And now?

Now, he’s the picture of control. Completely casual and unbothered.

He scans the room like he doesn’t feel the weight of your stare. Like this is just another Thanksgiving. Like he didn’t have you pinned beneath him, dragging desperate noises from your swollen lips.

He pretends his hands hadn’t been everywhere — gripping, teasing, taking.

Like his mouth hadn’t been on your skin, branding you, unraveling you, ruining you.

Your stomach twists violently.

Because he had.

You slept with Joe Burrow, and now he’s standing in your parents’ entryway — smiling, hugging your mother and shaking your dad’s hand like he wasn’t inside you less than twelve hours ago.

The warmth of the house turns suffocating.

Your mother gushes over Joe, her voice painfully oblivious. Oh, you’ve grown so much! You look amazing! It’s so good to have you home!

His eyes flicker to you. Quick. Too quick.

But you feel it.

Because the last time he looked at you like that, he was above you.

One drink turned into another.

A conversation turned into a touch.

A touch turned into his lips dragging over your jaw. 

"Tell me you want this." 

Your answer wasn’t a simple yes. It was a plea. A confession. A surrender.

Yet now, his jaw tightens. He blinks once and looks away.

Like nothing happened.

Like you don’t still feel him everywhere.

And somehow, that makes it worse.

a/n: i have lotsss of ideas for this au but send in any specific requests of what you'd like to see !

[pricetagged]

Idk how to label this. Wifehunter John?

The idea of possessive/obsessive John manipulating a situation and stealing a wife for himself struck me, so just coughing the idea up while I sneak away for a coffee before I actually have to start work in 20 mins 💖 entirely unedited, abrupt ending

Masterlist l Part Two

________

For someone married to his job, he has put quite a bit of thought into what he is looking for in a wife. Namely, that she's already married.

His reasoning is threefold. He can admit to himself, firstly, that it satisfies his need for control. Competency. He's a busy man with a demanding job. Not quite retired yet, no time to build his own from scratch. With this, he gets a wife boxed up and ready-trained. Broken in.

Secondly, the need for control bleeds into his saviour complex. She'll need a shoulder to cry on, someone strong and capable to get her back on her feet. She'll be feeling a little fragile. Needy. Perfect.

And thirdly, it does something wild to his jealous, possessive streak. The idea of taking something precious, of breaking her bond to another man and tying it to him? Delicious. The idea that she used to be someone else's, that he has to imprint himself onto her knowing that in doing so he is erasing the imprint of another man? It has his teeth aching, grinding even as heat rises in his belly. Stirs at him.

The idea swirls lazily in the back of his mind, never quite finding the right time or right partner. He bats at it a few times, lazy cat playing with the notion, seeing how far it can stretch before it snaps. Eyes up pretty things everywhere he goes, glancing down at their left hands just to check, but nothing quite tugs on that string. Until one day it does when he's outfitting the security system at your house.

It's side work. Cash in hand, word of mouth. Something to keep him busy when on mandated leave. Something to keep in mind as his retirement from active duty creeps closer. And your husband is a real piece of work, all blustering braggadocio energy. Young buck, not knowing his place in the herd. Not knowing that he'd be better scratching his antlers off on a tree than going head-to-head with a gristled thing like John.

It's like John's energy, his presence in the house, sends alarm bells ringing in your husband's mind (Be the man. Don't back down. Puff up your chest and strut). And it plays so perfectly into John's hands because your young buck doesn't realise that what he's really doing is fawning. To John. (Look at me, be impressed by me!) He makes his biggest mistake in putting you down in front of him, trying to sidle up to John and create some kind of desperate camaraderie. Ordering you to bring tea to the men at work. Rolling his eyes at your attempts to talk, to ask questions about the work being done. Waving you off so he can stand and watch the proceedings. Like he could supervise. Like he has any clue what he's doing.

Only the promise of the long game keeps John from levelling him with a hard look, from calling him outblike he'd love to.

He hears you both in the in the other room, having swatted the young buck off like a particularly virulent pest. Noisy and bothersome. Not needed - or wanted- in this home. And entirely too stupid to realise that John wasn't being jocular in his dismissal.

You've been scribbling away for the past few days, something occupying your time, keeping you happy and hidden away in the kitchen.

"You're not serious, are you?"

"Well, yes," he hears the slight quaver in your voice before you find your footing. You've got at least a bit of spine. Good. "You said that I should find an occupation. Not just 'laze around the house playing housewife'. This is what I-"

"Oh come on, I didn't mean- You don't think that this is viable, do you?"

"Well... I love gardening. And I'm good at it. And there's no reason that it can't be more accessible for people, especially with the current economic-"

He cuts you off with a scoff. "Dear, just- I don't want you to be disappointed. I think you don't quite understand the time and effort this will take. And you know nothing of marketing, publishing. Why don't you put that away and start on dinner?"

And oh, isn't that delicious. He can taste it now, that idea that has been swirling. It's thick, almost tangible on his tongue. The tension in the house, the bitter lacryma of stifled tears. The slight acidity of words you left unsaid. It has his mouth watering, pupils dilating.

And when he's packing up that evening, tools and materials tucked in to the heavy workman's case, he swings by the kitchen on his way out. Catches the way something is jutting out slightly from the bin, lid slightly askew. When he pulls it out he realises it's some kind of notebook, carefully (lovingly) bound. Pictures pasted, mindmaps and notes and plans scribbled in the margins. Your gardening tips. Kitchen scraps, window boxes, rooftop plots. Urban gardening. It's deeply thoughtful, well researched.

A labour of love, lying in the rubbish.

Sweet, clever little thing. That just won't do.

He leaves your house with a little piece of you tucked away in his toolkit and a nice plan forming. He'll be back, of course, not quite finished with his work. He'd planted a few little links into the system he'd almost installed, projecting not just to the monitor in your home but also in his. Got to keep his eyes on you, keep you safe and cared for in ways that your useless husband can't.

Finding that book was a boon. He'd say it was divinely ordained if he believed in all that. It weighs heavy in his toolbox as he whistles out the door.

Now, how to get you alone and return it to you..

________________

This idea may have been done before? I'm not sure, sorry! I've seen a lot of possessive John floating around. Tagging @stellewriites because I said I would last time, and you've been so encouraging of my nonsense.

Anyway I've got like 4 long-form WIPs that I'm working on, so I may never actually write this one but thought I'd share since that image set I just reblogged made me feral 💖

[keferon]

Mecha headquarters is attacked. The building collapses. Blurr goes in and doesn't come back out. And Swindle's the one that's got to deal with the fallout. As far as nightmare scenarios go, this is pretty high up on Swindle's list.

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Swindle only pulls his phone out of his pocket when he reaches the shadows off to the side of where rescue crews are digging through the rubble of mecha headquarters.  Digging they only started because Blurr, the face of mecha, went into that building and didn't come out.  Digging they are only continuing because they believe they've found signs of life buried in the rock.  Which is why Swindle's phone has been buzzing nonstop for the past several minutes.

He looks at the names next to the missed calls.  Shockwave.  Shockwave again.  Pharma.  Unknown number. (Shockwave?)….  The list goes on.

Swindle doesn't know how Shockwave or Pharma knows already, but they must.  Swindle's first call since Blurr disappeared under that ton of rubble had been to emergency services.  Every call since has been to call in favors, pull strings – exert as much influence as he can to keep the details of what's going on out of the news.  To keep the potential damage this could do to a minimum.

Somehow, it hasn't been enough.  Which means this situation is fast heading towards something more than what Swindle can handle on his own.

Swindle pulls a second phone from his pocket and hits the number on speed dial.

"Hello?" A voice answers within one ring of Swindle dialing.  Onslaught.  He relaxes slightly.

"You watching the news?"  Swindle skips over customary greetings, security measures – there's no time for them now.  He knows it is Onslaught on the other end of the line.  Onslaught will recognize it is him by his voice.  That much, they still have to be able to trust.

What exactly will be on the news, Swindle doesn't know.  But, it's a safe bet that at least some of the basics of the mecha attack will be broadcast.  Beyond that, it all depends on how much Swindle's contacts came through.

"Yeah.  Mecha was attacked.  They're saying no casualties, so why are you calling me?"  Onslaught asks.

"That's all they're saying?" Swindle asks in return. "No casualties?"

"That's all.  No casualties," Onslaught confirms.  "Showed some footage of the fighting.  Pretty standard stuff.  Cut in some impressive footage of Blurr's mech.  What's going on? Not that I'm not glad to hear personal confirmation you're not dead, but this line is for emergencies."

"There is one.  Shockwave."  Swindle says the name as though there's no further justification needed for why he's calling on this line.  And really, there isn't.  They had agreed to that from the start of this venture.  "He's been calling me.  Non-stop."

Swindle thinks he hears a soft curse on the other end of the line then, "Why would he care?  What's his interest?"

"Blurr," Swindle says.  "That footage, of his mech – was the actual fight.  A fight he never should have been in.  But he did it anyways because there was no other option.  He went into the building and he never came out.  He's the reason they're still here digging – the reason I'm still here."

"And the reason Shockwave's calling," Onslaught fills in.

"Yes.  Him.  And Pharma." Swindle adds.

"Pharma is a medic, you know.  With ratchet going more or less of the grid and First Aid and Ambulon tied up with Vortex he's the highest ranked medic in mecha.  It would be his job to supervise pilot injuries."  Swindle can tell even over the line that Onslaught doesn't really believe his own words.  But they need to make sure they've covered everything if they're going to stay ahead of this.

"He shouldn't know though.  I called in favors to delay the news of Blurr's status until after excavation is complete and you said yourself the news only confirmed no casualties yet," Swindle points out. "I've sent no internal communications.  Pharma shouldn't know yet.  He's too close to Shockwave.  Neither of them should know.  But they've both been calling since the collapse – within minutes of each other."

Swindle definitely hears Onslaught swear at that.  "I don't know exactly what the connection is between Shockwave and Pharma – but I don't want Pharma – or Shockwave – anywhere near this, anywhere near Blurr," he finishes.

"Blurr's alive?"  The question is stated matter-of-factly, though Swindle wouldn't have blamed Onslaught for expressing a note of skepticism.  If the man is still alive, there's no way he's walking away from this without serious injuries.  Swindle would bet every dollar in his accounts on it.

"Possibly.  There are signs of life under the rubble.  We paid Blurr to be the part of a hero for the media.  Turns out when it mattered it wasn't entirely an act.  He saved a lot of lives today – including mine."  If Blurr is pulled from that rubble alive, Swindle will give every dollar it takes from his bank account to ensure it stays that way.  They need Blurr.  More than he knows.

"I never told Blurr the truth behind why it was so important that mecha hire him," Swindle's voice drops as he says the words.

"I am not repaying what he did today by letting him find out firsthand whatever it is Shockwave does in those labs of his.  We're not going to sit back and watch the creation of another Vortex.  It was bad enough when we didn't know.  Now…. Right now, I need you to distract Shockwave and Pharma."

"How long do you need?" As Swindle had at the beginning of their call, Onslaught skips the unnecessary validation and asks the question that gets at the point.  It has Swindle breathing a sigh of relief.

"A few hours, minimum.  But I'll take anything you can give me, just stall them as long as you can.  I've got to go."  Swindle hangs up without waiting for Onslaught's reply.  A stretcher is being carried out of the ruins towards a waiting helicopter.

Swindle manages to make it onboard just before take-off.  He rides all the way to the hospital with Blurr.  Handles all the forms.  Tells the receptionists to put the bills on his card.  He knows (hopes) Blurr could do it when the time came (the man certain has the money; Swindle's been writing his checks) – but he shouldn't have to.  All Blurr should have to focus on is his recovery, and what comes next.  Blurr should have friends, family, a partner – someone to support him in this. 

Swindle knows – has known since early on in working with Blurr – that that is not the case.  He's observed enough to see that Blurr asks for help if he truly needs it, but no one just offers it to him.  Because no one knows to.  In this case, Blurr cannot ask, so Swindle manages instead.

In an ideal world, someone would stay by Blurr's hospital bed, simply so the man didn't have to wake up alone in unfamiliar surroundings with no explanations.  But this is not an ideal world.  And Swindle is not that person.  His time runs out long before then. 

Fresh blood has been spilled.  The predators are circling.  Swindle has a show to put on.  The best he can do is leave his card on the bedside table as a reminder and hope Blurr actually calls if he needs anything. 

I. LOVE THIS. SO FUCKING MUCH YOU CANNOT EVEN IMAGINE

Absolutely in love with this conspiracy thing Onslaught and Swindle have going on. Because YES. OF COURSE. Gosh this is why I love Combaticons. They’re on their own side. Whatever system they are forced to be part of - it doesn’t have full control on them. They’re doing their own thing ehehehehhehe