#and i cant even voice them properly!!!!!

[sweetsweetloverlover]

AAUGHGFAAGHHHUGSSHKL HSGHHH (<- having gender thoughts)

[echoesofadream]

im sad if bts are quitting as a group. Even if i hate on them so much and their last good song is film out ill be so sad if they r not together anymore. I mean how many times can you perform mic drop. I think at least a few more years:(

[autism-corner]

muse etc etc

[kibblemode]

its so sad nobody will know how noodle sounds in my head + how he talks bc its awesome but cant be accurately captured in writing....like he stutters a lot & makes weird noises its like if david cross was mexican & talked like a weird mixture of gazpacho from chowder & jerma & jesse pinkman breaking bad. im crazay

[b1mbodoll]

hung virgin jake is too good!!! he watches too much porn and thinks he can just slide into you, surprised and a little mad at your whining, mocking you when you tell him it's too much

pairings: sim jaeyun x f! reader

warnings: noncon + use of the word r*pe + big dick! jake + virgin! jake + blood + creampies + breeding + degradation + impact play + manipulation + fingering

💌: shut up i just moaned /pos /lh ☆ ok hi this is gabi after writing. i didn’t mean to make this so dark, but what is b1mbodoll without noncon.

jakey thinkin he can just slide in with no prep…. i actually feel insane. you’re whimpering and begging him to take it slow n be gentle because he’s so big. so fucking girthy, too. he thinks a little spit on your tight pussy and the steady dribbles of precum trailing along his length are enough to spread you open.

his cock is heavy where it rests over your cunt and genuine fear courses through you because there’s no way he’ll fit like this. “j-jakey, wait,” you pant, hands reaching out to push at his abdomen, eyes wide. “you need to prep me, baby, look at you. you’re too big, ‘s gonna hurt.”

“no, sweetheart, you’re wrong. i’ve seen a buncha videos before, it’ll feel good, jus’ take it, yeah?”

he sounds so earnest; there’s no way he truly thinks porn is real, right? you can’t take him and you’re unsure how else to convince him of that. “i can’t! jakey, you’re not listeni — fuck! oh god, stopstop.”

it feels like you’re being split in two, tiny pussy stretched beyond it’s limits despite your pleas for jake to fucking stop as he forces the blunt head of his fat cock inside; just the tip and it’s already too much, your inner walls spasming and clenching around him, eyes squeezed tightly because it hurts so bad and he hasn’t even filled you up completely yet.

jake stops once his cockhead slips in, afraid to cum before he’s had the chance to properly fuck you, nostrils flaring while he tries to hold off his orgasm, dick pulsing and his balls tight, more and more precum drooling from his slit and wetting your hole, teeth sinking into his lip so hard the soft skin breaks, the taste of blood bringing him back to his senses.

you feel so good wrapped around him n he cant help but continue to sheath himself in your pussy, pressing his hips forward and groaning as his cock bullies its way into you, inch after inch causing you to let out pained cries that make his chest ache but he can’t stop, not until you’re stuffed full of his thick cum.

you’re hitting him now, throwing your fists at his chest in a weak attempt to get him off, full on sobs making the guilt he felt a second ago shift into something meaner.

“you’re fucking weak,” he spits, and gone is your sweet boyfriend. you don’t recognize the man above you. “y’wanna cry so bad, i’ll give you something to cry about, whore.”

jake’s earlier fear of cumming too soon is long forgotten; he catches your hands when you go to strike him again and pins them to the mattress before slamming his hips against yours, remaining inches now fully inside and you can feel him snug against your cervix, prodding at the entrance of your womb.

he doesn’t give you a chance to at least try accomodating to the discomfort, setting a brutal pace immediately, headboard knocking against the wall as his cock ruins you, hurts you, violates you.

you don’t want this anymore, so why is he continuing this torment?

jake believes you were made for him, for his cock. it shouldn’t hurt.. you’re lying. you have to be. it’s supposed to feel good. crocodile tears and yelps wont change his mind. you’re his little plaything. his pocket pussy. he’ll only get better at fucking you with practice, so he’ll use you whenever and however he wants.

you can’t do anything except let him have his way with you, too tired to continue fighting him, but just coherent enough to try convincing him with your words.

your voice is strained, throat raw but you ignore the soreness and attempt to speak through whines. “jake, y’gotta stop. i don’t — oh god — don’t want this. y’know what the means don’t you? this is…”

tears blur your vision.

“this is what, huh? ‘s rape? is that what you were gonna say?” the condescending tone like a knife to your heart. “you’re such a fuckin’ dummy — hah fuck, so tight —” he groans. “this isn’t rape. you like it, i know you do. your pussy’s so tight, so fucking wet, all for me.”

your face crumples at his words; there really is no getting through to him.

jake continues to abuse your poor, sensitive cunt. it’s sickening how every brutal thrust allows for his cock to kiss the opening of your uterus, his balls slapping your ass creating an audible plap, plap, plap that makes you cringe and your hole gushes, drenching the sheets with your combined juices; the realization that you’re wet makes you wonder… was jake right? do you like this? it’s too much for you to process, body beginning to go limp beneath him.

“stay with me,” barks jake, clapping his palm against your cheek, “‘m not — fuck! — done, haven’t even cum yet. can’t pass out on me, i won’t let you.”

as if to prove his point, jake speeds up the pace, driving his length so deep it’s agonizing. “pretty pussy gripped me even tighter when i did this,” he backhands you this time and again, your walls contract, squeezing him so tight it makes him think you don’t wanna let go.

“are you a..” he starts, wracking his brain for the word used in a particularly violent porn clip he saw, split lip reopening when he smiles, “are you a painslut? like bein’ fucked open and slapped around, hm?”

you shake your head in denial, but jake’s having none of it. “yeah you fucking do, slut. say it. tell me you like this or i’ll do so much worse.”

“y-yes!” you all but scream, “yes i like it, jakey. i like it, i do, i do, i do! j-jus’ cum, ‘kay? fill me up, do it!”

god, jake really is stupid. you’re only agreeing and urging him to cum to get this over with but he seems to think you actually want him to cream your insides.

maybe you really do; if the way you wrap your legs around him are any indication.

his orgasm’s building with every drag of his impossibly thick cock, your body surrendering to him, forcibly used for his own pleasure and he presses his mouth to yours, his eyes shutting as your lips meet, your own wide open due to the taste of iron flooding your senses, a mess of spit and jake’s blood smearing onto your skin

he humps at you like a dog; desperate, sloppy, uncoordinated.

and although you hate to admit it, you can feel your own impending climax, not quite there but close. you need more; you need — oh fuck.

jake stills once he’s fucked into your womb, ropes of his thick, sticky cum painting you white and there’s so much, it feels neverending; despite the pain, despite the rough treatment you received and despite the fact that he did all of this without your consent; you cum.

you clamp around him tighter, if that were even possible, and pleasure makes your mind go blank. you try to block him out, unable to believe he did this and the fact that you came, but he makes it impossible.

how are you supposed to ignore jaeyun when two of his thick fingers join his cock inside of you after catching the globs of sperm that have dribbled out of you.

“said i’d fill you up,” he reminds you. “now i gotta make sure it sticks.”

[quickestgold]

1) Love your writing and cant wait to see more!! 2) For the prompt inspiration, what about something along the lines of Jack's girlfriend, that Dana and Robby don't particularly like, shows up seriously injured at the Pitt?

Someone New: Dr. Jack Abbot x Reader

Synopsis: After witnessing the fallout from Jack's failed marriage, Dana and Robby have been skeptical of his new relationship. But when a freak accident forces them to see the depth of Jack’s feelings, their perspectives shift.

Warnings: Canon-typical depictions of trauma; traffic accident, death, injuries, mentions of a failed marriage, divorce

Word count: 1.9k

A/n: LMFAO guys, most of my requests rn are for injured readers are we okay? Anyway... enjoy xoxo (also, thanks so much for the compliment!! messages/comments like these are super motivating <3)

Mistress. Homewrecker. The Other Woman.

You’ve called yourself worse a thousand times. The guilt over how things started with Jack weighs on you. And though his love feels sweet and pure, it offers little comfort in the face of their judgment.

You wish you’d met under different circumstances. Started things the right way.

But in your heart you know it’s real. Even if they don’t.

The truth is, Jack’s marriage was over long before you came into the picture. They were separated when you met, though the divorce wasn’t final.

So you let others believe that it was your fault. Made little effort to dispel the rumors. To introduce yourself properly.

Maybe you were embarrassed.

Definitely ashamed.

Perhaps they had a point and you destroyed a perfectly good relationship. Or at least got in the way of Jack and his ex trying to salvage what was left.

But it doesn’t matter now. Not anymore. Nothing does.

“Female. 30s. Car vs. pedestrian. In and out of consciousness. Possible head injury. Probable femoral fracture”, the EMT presents.

The cold metal of the gurney beneath you makes you shiver, harsh sterile lights flickering overhead.

“Woah. What happened?” Dana’s voice is laced with concern.

“I’m fine", you murmur, but your voice betrays you, weak and unconvincing. “Just a bit sleepy.”

Why is everything spinning?

“You hit your head?” Robby's voice is sharp and suddenly close, the light of his pen so bright it feels like it’s burning through your skull. He instructs you to follow his finger. You try, but your vision is distorted, like shattered glass. You can barely manage to focus.

“I- I’m not sure”, you confess, struggling to catch your breath, your lungs burning.

“Someone pushed her into oncoming traffic", the EMT continues, calm and clinical, part of his routine. "A bicycle hit her head-on and a car slammed into her hip."

His words hit you like a punch to the gut and your stomach twists with horror.

You can't remember any of it.

You try to move, to sit up, but your body refuses.

Why is your face wet? You beg, pray, it’s just tears. It has to be.

But it’s thick and warm. And the familiar, metallic smell makes your head swim.

“J-Jack… I-“, you plead.

Robby’s movements are faster now. His commands sharp and alert. He gestures to Whittaker, who immediately reacts, moving swiftly, as he rushes out of the room, a quiet urgency in his steps.

Everyone knows about you and Jack. Though it feels like no one approves. Almost no one.

“Y/N, it’s okay. Just keep your eyes open for me, alright?” Collins’ voice is warm, grounding. She takes your hand and squeezes it tightly. You’re thankful. Thankful for her presence. To see a friendly face amidst the chaos.

But you can't shake the quiet fear that maybe... it’s the last one you’ll ever see.

Heather is one of the few who welcomed you, made an effort to get to know you.

You’ve become friends.

You meet up for coffee, chat for hours about the boys. And though her and Robby’s relationship ended, you can tell there is unresolved sadness between them. You wonder if either of them will ever admit it.

“Heather… I-I’m…” Your voice is barely audible now. You're slipping. Slipping fast.

You fight to stay awake. To hold on. Just a little longer. At least until you see Jack.

Until you get to say goodbye.

But your eyes grow heavier by the second, something pulling at you, each blink slower than the last.

You can hear yourself saying something. But it’s far away.

You’re shaking. Why is this hospital so goddamn cold?

Before you can say another word, everything fades to black.

“Male. 20s. Cyclist vs. pedestrian. Unconscious. Blunt force trauma to the head. Multiple fractures", another EMT announces, as they rush the gurney into Trauma Two, the team prepared and ready to work in perfect sync.

Jack's moves are quick, methodical. Driven by one clear, urgent goal: to stabilize the patient first, then assess for further injuries.

“Dr. Abbot?” Whittaker’s voice is tentative, his gaze flicking nervously between Jack and the patient on the table. He hovers just inside the doorframe, not quite sure whether to disturb Jack or not.

Jack glances up briefly, his hands moving over the patient's chest, steady and determined.

Whittaker hesitates, his voice shaky. “We need you in Trauma One.”

“I’m a little busy.” Jack mutters. “Get Robby!” His voice laced with authority. An order, not a suggestion.

He isn’t finished with this patient yet, not ready to be pulled away.

Whittaker hesitates, before he nods and steps back. Jack watches him go, but there's no time to think about what might be waiting in Trauma One.

His focus is here, the young patient's life literally in his hands.

“Abbot?” Robby growls, frustrated at Whittaker’s failed attempt.

Whittaker shakes his head, his expression tense. “He’s treating the cyclist in Trauma Two”, Whittaker answers, almost apologetic.

Robby curses under his breath, his eyes flashing to Dana.

He knows Jack will never forgive them if something happens to you and they didn’t tell him. If Jack doesn't get to you in time.

Dana knows, too. She knows that this isn’t just about the accident. It’s about what they owe Jack and what they owe you.

“Hold compressions.” Jack orders.

Everyone’s eyes are fixated on the monitor, but the flatline continues.

“Okay." Jack’s voice drops. "That’s it.”

“Time of death: 10:35”

Jack takes a minute of silent reflection. He’s been here before. Too many times. But it never gets any easier.

He steps out into the bay, taking a breath. His eyes search the nurse’s station, which is unusually empty.

Javadi almost crashes into him, gripping a blood bag tight to her chest. Jack steps back, putting distance between them.

“Slow down. If you trip and fall you’re no good to anybody.” Always the teacher, calm and collected. “Where’s Robby?”

Javadi stumbles over her words, struggling to catch her breath. “Trauma One, a- a pedestrian got hit.”

“Shit." Jack mutters. "I just called it on the cyclist.” His brows furrow. “Need any help?”

“Not sure… it’s not looking good.” And with that, she rushes back in.

Jack watches her go, making sure she doesn’t run into anyone else. His gaze flicks to the glass doors of Trauma One, catching Robby’s eyes. He's pressing into someone’s chest with practiced ease.

But there’s something else. Panic.

Jack’s alarm bells go off. He moves, quickly.

But before Jack reaches the door, Dana steps into his path. She places her palm against his chest, gently pushing him back.

“Jack”, her voice calm but firm. “You can come in, but we need to do this the right way, honey.” Her eyes soften, full of compassion. “Robby’s doing everything he can.”

In that moment, Jack catches a glimpse of the patient’s face. Your bloodied, gorgeous, beautiful face. The woman he loves.

Multiple hands are on you, your own dangling off the side of the gurney.

His eyes lock on the delicate ring he gave you only a few days ago.

The one that was supposed to be forever.

“What the fuck”, Jack tries to push past Dana, but Langdon and Matteo are already there, hands on his arms, holding him back.

“Dana”, Jack’s voice cracks.

“I know, hon. Take a breath”, she rubs soothing circles on his chest, then steps back. “We’ve got her!”

The sincerity in her voice, comforts him, if only slightly.

The fact that he just called his patient’s death a few minutes ago, tells him everything about the severity of your injuries.

There's a deep ache in Jack’s chest as he follows Dana into the room. He steps to your side, his hand brushing gently over your forehead, the way you like it. The way he’s always calmed you.

“I’m here, baby”, he whispers, his voice raw. “I’m here.”

He watches Robby and the team work, each movement calculated, each second agonizing.

He knows his place. He won’t overstep. His only focus is you.

Like many times before, Jack finds himself on the rooftop. Each inhale of the harsh midnight air a painful reminder of you in that hospital bed, fighting for every breath.

Jack feels someone approaching, doesn’t have to turn around to know who. “Who pushed her?” Jack's voice is low and raw with pain.

“They’re…-" Robby pauses, scratching his neck nervously. "They're still looking.” His tone is soft.

Jack nods, but the corners of his mouth turn downward. “You’ve been too hard on her, man.” He exhales sharply.

“I know, brother.” Robby's words are filled with guilt and regret. He wants to make this right. Needs to.

Jack's gaze hardens. “She was afraid, you know. Felt like you were judging her… more than me.” He huffs out a humorless laugh.

Robby’s remorse is palpable. “We were worried about you. Didn’t want to see you get hurt. We had no idea it was serious between you.”

“Does it matter?” Jack’s voice cracks on the last word.

“I- I suppose not.” Robby shakes his head. “I’m so sorry.”

Jack nods. He doesn’t need Robby’s apology. You do.

“She gets it. She gets me.” Jack's looking straight at Robby now, barely bringing himself to say the words. “I wish you’d had the chance to get to know her. You would've loved her…” He tries to hold in a strangled sob, but it escapes anyway.

Robby steps closer, placing a hand on Jack's back, voice gentle and reassuring. “I still can… If she’ll let me.” He realizes he needs to carry that hope for both of them right now.

Jack isn’t convinced, but Robby’s belief gives him a moment’s peace.

The door to the rooftop suddenly slams open. Jack and Robby both turn instinctively.

Dana stands in the doorway, her pulse racing. “Jack.”

Jack is terrified to hear what she has to say, assuming the worst.

The midnight air suddenly feels suffocating.

“Jack?” Your voice is barely a whisper, fragile and tired, the effort of speaking taking all of your energy.

“Hi, gorgeous.” He moves closer to your bed. “Are you in pain?” The concern in his eyes certainly isn't helping, it hurts to see him like this.

You shake your head, but it’s a lie. You know it and Jack knows it too. He doesn’t hesitate, moving swiftly to the IV to adjust the meds with practiced hands.

Warmth floods you and you exhale slowly. The deep physical ache subsides and your thoughts clear. Only now, you can fully appreciate that you’re alive. That Jack’s here.

“I’m here," he repeats, more to himself than to you and for a second you wonder if you said the words out loud.

Jack's hand is gentle against your skin, brushing a loose strand of hair from your face. “Robby and Dana feel badly about how they’ve treated you.” The words heavy with sorrow.

“They shouldn’t.” You're exhausted, but you mean it. “They don’t even know me.” You give him a smile, weak but genuine.

“Maybe it’s time we change that?” Jack leans in gently stroking your forehead, like he always does. Like he always will.

His other hand traces the space where your ring used to rest. You realize it’s no longer there. It was taken off during the chaos of saving you. But Jack knows where it belongs.

With a tender, deliberate touch, he slides the ring back onto your finger, a symbol of the forever he’s promised.

Hahahah aaall the fluff!! It was needed after so many angsty requests lol Pls comment/share your thoughts below. ♡

[bowxs]

thinking about soldier boy comforting girlygirl!reader after a date gone wrong

a/n • had the wettest dream about this the other night, i hope i did it justice

part two part three part four

divider from @uzmacchiato

ben didnt have a second to react as he opened the door. not before you were hanging off of him like a lifeline, arms around his neck and head buried against his stupidly muscular chest as small sniffles exited you

“woah doll- what the hell happened, huh? you were a ball of sunshine when you left.” he says, but his voice is gentle as his arms wrap around you, hands smoothing down your back.

“he- didnt show” you manage to say without crying

you can feel bens hands still for a second- feel him freeze up at the idea of some idiot ditching you on a date

“oh baby,” he coos, hands resuming their position of rubbing your back comfortingly “he doesnt deserve you, y’know that? i bet he wouldnt even take care of you properly.”

whatever stupid movie ben put on to make you feel better is long forgotten as his dick pumps in and out of you, the wet plap plap plap sound coming out of every thrust

“fuck baby- no one takes care of you like this- just me-” he mumbles on

he had you on your back, legs spread wide to fit him between them. he had both of your hands pinned with just one of his own, his free hand roaming your body, groping every inch of skin he could reach

moans were punched out of you with every thrust, your mouth hung open, head thrown back against the couch

“c’mon doll- i take care of you so well, huh? fuck some idiot kid couldnt fuck you this good- just need me” he grunts out, his movements only speeding up at the thought of someone else fucking you. taking care of you

“just you- oh-! just you ben- fuck- m’gonna-” you start but cant finish as his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, muffling your words and your moans.

you feel bens hand move lower and lower, his skilled fingers finding your clit and rubbing tight circles

“cum on my cock, baby. show me how good i take care of you” he grumbles against your lips, his movements never faltering.

and you did. you came harder than ever before, because ben always took care of you.

[starkeymeow]

plot ── after you undergo a procedure to erase rafe from your memory, rafe, devastated by the realization, decides to do the same, only to find himself fighting to hold onto the love you shared, proving that some connections can never truly be forgotten.

content ── another fucking mini series bc i cant stop, rafes perspective, memory loss, emotional distress & heartbreak obvi, dysfunctional relationships, existential themes

authors note ── sorry guys ive been so busy w my new life that i have NOT touched tumblr in a good while. plus this semester is more demanding in terms of my workload ugh so im never writing anym its so lame

main masterlist | next

rafe stares at the card, his fingers gripping the edges so tightly the paper starts to bend. his breath is slow, shallow, like his body is forgetting how to function properly. the words blur together, but it doesn’t matter. he’s already memorized them.

he lifts his gaze to his father. ward stands stiff, arms crossed, staring down at his shoes like he’s the one who’s been blindsided. like he’s the one who just had his entire world gutted out of him in a single fucking sentence.

there’s guilt in the way he exhales through his nose, in the way his jaw slides ever so slightly, but rafe doesn’t give him the chance to speak.

“this is real?” his voice comes out rough, barely above a whisper, as if saying it too loud will make it more true.

ward hesitates, then nods.

rafe lets out a short, breathless laugh, his chest rising sharply before sinking under the weight of it all. he shakes his head, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek as he looks down at the card again, like maybe this time the words will rearrange themselves into something less impossible.

“so, what?” he scoffs, wetness pricking at his eyes. “they just . . . deleted me? like a fucking file on a computer?”

ward sighs. long, slow, through his nose. he knew this would be hard to explain.

“how many?” rafe asks. how many memories are gone now?

his father doesn’t answer right away. his jaw shifts, gaze dropping to the floor like he doesn’t want to say it. or maybe he’s just trying to soften the blow of something that can’t be softened.

when he finally speaks, his voice is careful. deliberate. “all of ‘em, bud.”

rafe scoffs again, but it’s weaker this time, like his body is struggling to keep up with his disbelief. he smiles, but it’s the kind that only comes when someone is trying not to fall apart.

“no . . . no. she didn’t. she wouldn’t do that.” he shakes his head again, faster this time. “that’s not even a fucking thing— i mean, erasing someone from your mind? since when did we have the tech for that bullshit? that didn’t happen.”

he throws the card onto the table like it burns to hold it any longer. gets up so fast his chair scrapes loudly against the floor. his chest is rising and falling too quickly, hands threading behind his head as he paces across the kitchen, back and forth, back and forth, his fingers digging into his scalp.

ward doesn’t stop him. he just watches, his own grief settling deep in his expression. and maybe it’s not the same kind of grief. maybe it’s not the gut-wrenching, all-consuming, ‘i’ve lost the love of my life kind’, but it’s still there.

because he’s seen lucuna inc. before, out near the edge of the island, where no one really looks unless they’re desperate enough to. he’s seen it and he’s hoped no one he loves would ever consider walking through its doors.

but you did. a girl who once sat at his dinner table, who used to laugh with his family, who was supposed to be his daughter-in-law one day.

was rafe really that bad? bad enough to make you want to erase him?

rafe stops pacing so suddenly it’s like something clicks into place inside him. he turns, slipping out of the kitchen without another word. his father calls after him, but he doesn’t listen. his hands move on their own, grabbing his keys from the hook by the front door, pushing outside, stepping into the thick outer banks air like he’s coming up for air after drowning.

he doesn’t know where he’s going.

apparently, he can’t go to you.

but he’ll do something.

a/n: just the short little prologue so def let me know if ud like to be tagged for this one!

[meowdei]

river what are your thoughts on husband ayato guiding you through giving him a blowjob for the first time… 🎤

me and my (darling) husband — ft. kamisato ayato

ayato is happy to show you how to please him. you are happy to take care of your darling husband. the gods themselves are not powerful enough to come between you both and your desires

before you read: 2.4k words of pure cock sucking i’m sorry ; fem wife reader ; obsessive, morally gray husband ayato ; slight, slight corruption kink in you squint ; blow jobs ; reader doesn’t have a gag reflex in this ; teasing ; praise ; orgasm delay ; cock worship ; throat fucking ; cum eating ; reader straddles his waist ; implied vaginal sex at the end

notes: risu this ask sent me into cardiac arrest. i would say i need to lay down but i have been laying down since i read this ask (help ive fallen and i cant get up)

Sometimes Ayato wonders if you want to kill him. It wouldn’t be the first assassination attempt he’s faced—but it would be the hardest to escape. He could never deny you of anything.

“Teach me how to please you,” you pout, “just like you always do me. It’s only fair, wouldn’t you agree?”

You’re inexperienced. Innocent. Ayato likes tainting that sense of purity about you—and he’s extra delighted that it means he’s the first one to see you like this.

(He’ll be the only one, actually—he’s not letting you go. Ever. If anyone else were to even think about how you’d look on your knees, knelt between their thighs, he’d slice through their neck with his own blade.)

But you look so beautiful like this, it’s unearthly. His cock is thick, erect between his bare thighs as they spread enough to allow you a space between them. You gently trace along the vein at the underside, curious from seeing it so up close for the first time. You’ve seen him before, of course, but never near enough to properly appreciate the details.

The hair he trims neatly. The mole he has at his v-line. The slight curve to the left of his girth. The way he twitches from any delicate touch on reflex.

That last part is your favorite—you trace a finger around his tip, circling it in awe as he lets out a soft gasp. The way his cock jumps at the touch makes you eye him hungrily.

“Teasing, are we, my love?” He drawls through grit teeth, holding himself back from burying the aching length down your throat, “do you wish to torture your poor husband?”

“No,” you breathe, giggling as you press a sweet kiss to the tip, “of course not. Just…show me how, Ayato.”

You’ve never done this before. Ayato is fine with being the one busy buried between the other’s legs. He doesn’t mind being the one to taste the sweet, dripping proof of pleasure lingering at the apex of your thighs. But if you insist that you’d like to switch places for once…well, he can’t lie and say he hasn’t pictured your beautiful lips struggling to take all of him.

With a gentle hand cupping the back of your head, he pulls you closer, closer, closer—until the head of his cock is tapping against your lips.

“Open, my love,” he whispers—you do. Instantly, your tongue darts out, swirling around his tip and licking a stripe along his slit. He groans, eyes fluttering shut as he tenses.

“Sensitive?” You hum, teasingly.

“Is that a surprise?” He grins down at you, sweat collecting at his forehead as his skin flushes, “have I not always shown I am far too sensitive to my wife’s touches?”

“I suppose that’s true,” you bite back a smile.

Slowly, you part your lips and take him in, staring up at him for his reactions, as if trying to see if you’re doing things right. He groans at the wetness of your mouth surrounding him, head falling back as he grips the sheets tightly with tense fists.

“That’s it, darling,” he says, voice a strained choke as he guides you down his length, “hollow your cheeks. I’m…I’m more sensitive here—pay close attention there, won’t you?”

He guides you his cock, stopping you just at his tip. You suck around him, swirling your tongue again as he lets out a loud moan and shudders under your hand as it rubs his thigh soothingly.

“Like that?” You pop off, blinking up at him with innocent eyes—they’re anything but innocent. There’s an amused twinkle in them at the way he barely bites back a whimper at the loss of you.

“Evil,” he huffs, “you’re most evil, dear wife.”

“I’m only trying to make you feel good, my darling husband,” you gasp. Your hand trails up his thigh to his taut abs, rubbing more soothing circles into the skin as you eye the moles that little his skin. “Did it feel good, Ayato?”

“Yes,” he nods, swallowing thickly.

“Did I do well?” You press, eyes hopeful.

He groans at that, letting out a shaky breath as he whispers, “you are always perfect, my dear. Unfairly so. Now please, give me more—I want more.”

“Then tell me how you want it,” you rub a thumb over a mole just under his belly button, admiring the flex of his abs as he breathes raggedly. “Surely the Yashiro commissioner is an effective communicator.”

“Such dedicated efforts to tease me,” he chuckles hoarsely, “very well. I shall indulge my wife in her wicked desires, then. Take me deep, my love, and swallow around my cock until I can spill my release down your throat. Do have mercy on me, will you my darling? I am feeling rather impatient.”

“Anything for my precious husband,” you say sweetly, giving his tip one last kiss, smearing the pre cum against your lips before you take him in your mouth.

Ayato, true to his word, has always shown you how sensitive he is to your touch. Now is no different, his fists fighting their grip around the sheets, knuckles turning a ghostly pale white from the pressure. He moans—it’s a beautiful sound. Low and just a tad bit whiny as your tongue traces his thick vein as he travels down his length.

You manage to take him almost down to the base, refraining from gagging as he hits the back of your throat. He’d be impressed if he wasn’t so dizzy with pleasure, the friction of your tongue and the walls of your mouth rubbing against the sensitive skin of his cock.

You bob your head up and down his length, hollowing your cheeks as you swallow around his tip. Just as he said, he’s sensitive there. Almost too sensitive, whimpering as you tease the tip of your tongue along his slit and taste the beads of pre cum that dribble from the head of his girth.

“Th-that’s it, my love,” he stutters, “fuck, yes—you spoil me with that precious mouth.”

Your hand trails down from his abs, slowly rubbing up and down his inner thigh, still as comforting and grounding as earlier. Ayato has other desires, however—far more insatiable desires as he grabs your hand and laces your fingers for a moment, squeezing slightly around you with a shaky grasp.

“You’d like me to show you what I want, yes?” He looks down at you, eyes hazy and mouth slightly swollen from the way he’s bitten down on the swell of his bottom lip.

You nod around his cock, jaw loose and tongue flat as you bob along his length skillfully. He’s almost scared this isn’t your first time from how good you take him down your throat—but the eager look you give him from his question assures him enough to relax.

“Then here,” he grunts, guiding your hand to his balls as he spreads his legs wider, hand encompassing yours as he murmurs, “be sure not to neglect me here, either.”

You fondle his balls delicately, teasing them with a light tough before you apply more pressure. They’re heavy, aching for your attention, and the gentle way you massage them as you suck around his tip once more pulls a jolt through his entire body. He whines at the feeling—a sweet, melodic sound that makes you fall in love deeper with your husband.

Your needy, filthy husband who adores you so.

You work your mouth along his cock a few more times before you pop off again, earning a whimper he can’t hold back this time as he stares down at you with a crestfallen expression.

He was close. You could tell—whether he’s in your mouth or your cunt, you can always tell when Ayato is just at the precipice of his pleasure. The slight twitch of his girth and the breathiness of his pants as they get more labored will always give him away.

You kiss up the underside of him, from base to tip. “Such a pretty cock,” you marvel, “and it’s all mine, isn’t it?”

“Surely you didn’t stop just to ask something you already know?” He clenches his jaw as the throb between his leg intensifies, the near-orgasm you deny him of serving as a painful reminder of how much power you hold over him.

You continue kissing the expanse of his girth, admiring him as you murmur, “don’t give me that look, you insatiable man. You’ll get what you wish for soon enough.”

“Why must you insist on being so cruel? I am a most doting husband, am I not? Surely I don’t deserve this,” he stares down at you miserably, making you roll your eyes.

“I merely meant to ask you where you’d like to cum, you impatient fool,” you click your teeth. But you love him—so much so, that your fist slowly strokes him so his poor, throbbing length isn’t neglected as his earlier orgasm slowly dies back down. “Down my throat? On my face? Perhaps on my tits? You’ve always paid close attention to those, you know. Anything my darling husband wants, he shall get.”

“Anything?” He hums, shivering as you tighten your fist around the base of his cock before stroking upwards, rolling your palm along the head.

“Anything,” you confirm. “It is my turn to spoil you, my sweet love.”

Ayato is vocal. He is, perhaps, shameless in that regard. When he takes you in the back of the gardens, when he takes you in the shadowy corners of the estate, when he takes you in his office without the door locked, he is vocal. You are usually horrified by it even if a little—not a lot when you’re so drunk on his cock, but still enough to know his voice could raise suspicion from anyone who happens to pass by.

Such a shameful, disgusting act it would be, to be caught by someone. The clan head and his wife, incapable of having any sense of respect and dignity.

But here, in the safety of your chambers, in the private quarters meant for just you and your husband, you appreciate how vocal Ayato is. How utterly sincere he is with letting you hear just how good you make him feel.

The term of endearment on your tongue and the tightened stroke of your fist makes him whimper softly, panting erratically as he murmurs, “your mouth. Your mouth—please, I need to feel your mouth, my love. I’m…I’m close. So close. Let me feel you swallow every drop, please. Please.”

Mercifully, your lips are wrapped around the pulsing length of his erection, taking him down your throat generously once more. A union as sacred as the one of your wedding, as blessed as the day you became his.

Ayato bucks his hips up, fucking into your throat as he finally becomes too impatient to be gentle anymore. You let him. Like a good, doting wife, you slack your jaw and let him use you, hand bracing yourself against his thigh as he chases his orgasm.

“F-fuck, my darling wife,” he curses, “you have no idea. You could not fathom how ardently I desire you. Take me, take every part of me.”

He spills down your throat with one last thrust of his hips, a soft, desperate moan tearing from his lips as he chants your name like a prayer. Ayato does not pray to his own God, the very one he serves every living day. But you—you are the only one who can answer his prayers. Who can bless him with his desires. Who can bring him to his knees and make him a believer of any and all that you say.

It’s why he says your name like that, like he’s calling out to divinity and not his wife who’s sat between his legs, swallowing around his cock as though it’s not the unholiest of activities. You make even sin feel holy. Blessed. Divine.

He spills thick, hot ropes of cum. It spills from the corners of your mouth, dribbling along your chin slightly as you try your best to swallow what you can.

“Good,” you hear him pant above you. He looks utterly wrecked. “You…you always feel so good. You have possessed me,” he breathes.

Finally, when the last drops of cum have finished spilling from his twitching cock, he collapses back against the mattress, chest rising and falling as he catches his breath.

You slowly pull away from his softening length, earning a small sound from him as the cool air hits his wet, spent cock.

“Was it alright?” You ask softly, resting your cheek against his thigh as you rub your hand along the other. He groans faintly, one last shuddering breath before he slowly rises to sit up again.

“Was my performance lacking?” He raises a brow, “did I not make clear enough how blissful your mouth feels?”

You giggle, biting your lip as you murmur, “is it a crime to ask my husband if I please him properly?”

“Of course,” he gasps in mock offense, “it means your husband is not doing his due diligence of praising his wife’s generosity. Shall we try again?”

“You are utterly insatiable, Ayato,” you say in exasperation.

He chuckles. He looks beautiful—sweat clinging to his soft, porcelain skin, eyes crinkled in a warm smile, and a rosy flush that almost urges you to move up to kiss the swells of his cheeks.

“It is only natural, my dear. I hardly believe any man could get enough of such a treasure that is you.”

“We would never know. I have my suspicions that no man would ever survive even thinking about me with you around.”

“A most correct assumption,” he agrees, cupping your cheek, bringing his thumb to collect the sticky, lingering remnants of his release from the corners of your lips before pushing the finger into your mouth.

You swallow around his thumb obediently, humming as you savor the taste of him on your tongue once more.

His expression grows dark. Your core burns with arousal at the sight.

“My darling husband,” you sing sweetly, “I do hope you’re not too exhausted. There is much more I’d like to enjoy with you.”

“Of course not,” he grins, grabbing your wrist and dragging you up to straddle his hips as he lays back once more. You rub your clothed cunt against his once-more growing erection. “I’ve hardly had my way with you yet, sweet wife.”

If it were up to me, I’d stay attached to his dick all day every day. Sucking on that thing would help calm me 🙏

[keferon]

I should be asleep but this is consuming me.

So have this poorly thought out fic drabble idea of mine:

Prowl is in pain, hurt and agony, physically and emotionally. He shouldn't have let Jazz convince him, he should have listened to that tingly uncertain feeling on his spark about this

But dammit was Jazz so...so convincing. It pained him to realise how much he wanted to trust the organic.

What didn't help was that bastard in front of him giving him mock grief. Prowl knew he did not care at all about how he feels, he knew there was some sort of sick enjoyment to all of this.

"Sorry, he couldn't come visit again. He actually had to help out with the newest mech, in fact, this prototype had one of your own parts in it!" Prowl wanted to sob, twisted asshole.

Suddenly, something seemed to have caught the organic's attention. Prowl didn't hear it at first, but once the man in front of him turned around in confusion, he heard it, there was some sort of commotion on the other side of the door.

Suddenly, before any of them could question what was going on, the doors burst out open with an explosion, causing many tools to clatter to the ground as the ground shook.

"GET AWAY FROM MY PARTNER!" Prowl, in a weak yet desperate attempt, turned his head to look at the direction of the voice. He recognised it-

"Jazz?" He spoke weakly. That seemed to have crushed the organic's soul, his face crumbling from his previous rage, before, in a blink of an eye, it turned back to fury. Fury so strong it could kill whoever dared look.

"Jazz?!" The twisted man standing in front of Prowl's face looked offended if not straight out annoyed at the other's presence. "What are you-?" He couldn't even finish his sentence before the other dropped whatever it was he had been holding and jumped on top of him. The two fought for a while, Jazz punching the guy a few times on the face before grabbing him by the neck of his shirt and throwing him to the other side of the room.

Jazz huffed, making sure to keep his eyes on his target for a second to see if that was enough to have knocked him out. It was. And once he was sure the guy wouldn't come back at him, he turned to look at Prowl, who so far, has only made move to watch the whole thing go down.

It took a while for the mech to properly process how Jazz looked, how he looked at him. Guilt, pain, sadness, exasperation even. It almost seemed like he was...crying?

"Prowl!" His partner? Ex-partner? (He wasn't sure anymore), ran to grasp his face, and he let him, to weak to fight back like he wanted to. Then he felt it, small droplets of water fall down his faceplates, 'Oh, so he was crying'. "I'm so sorry, i shouldn't have brought you here- we, we need to get you out-" as he moved, Prowl took notice of how dishevelled the other looked, the sudden smell of iron making him realise that he seemed to be covered in blood, if it was his own or not, Prowl wasn't sure, perhaps it was both. Taking a closer look, he started to notice all the small bruises and scratches on Jazz's face, in fact he took notice of a limp on his left leg too.

The other just seemed to be mumbling to himself as he tried to free Prowl, who so far has not spoken all that much, he felt too weak and tired, and he really had nothing to say other than a simple reply to what Jazz said before but he didn’t process it till now

"You really shouldn't have..."

---

Ok that's all i have rn, bc I'm not much of a writer and idk how to write these characters so they might be a bit OOC sorry ^^;;

But feel free to like add and/or fix anything to this.

Just wanna add the note that maybe, the reason Jazz found out is bc he recognised Prowl's plating on the new mech thing they built ;)

OH MY GOD I CANT EVEN

RAAAAHHHHHHHHHH THIS IS. OH FUCK. THI s. SO GOOD AND PAINFUL IM ASCENDING TO SOME NEW UNDISCOVERED DIMENSIONS

ALSO. oh my fucking god you have galaxy brain for this. imagine the horror Jazz feels when he sees this random new robot his boss wants to test. And it’s plating is so freaking familiar. He runs his hands along the panels. And he recognises them, even repainted. Because he spent so much time sitting on them, repairing them, crawling on them with his magnets. Sleeping on them even. He sees the “scar” from the time he helped Prowl to fix his armor and welded some cracks in it.

And now the fucking plates are here but Prowl isn’t.

[moluvies]

yearning ꔛ hange zoe x f!reader

a/n: i seriously cant say y/n anymore without thinking of the tiktok memes please save me . read part two here !!

words: 5.3k

cw: minor injury, confessions, they/them pronouns for hange, she/her pronouns for reader, hange w/ female anatomy, reader has female anatomy, reader is the #1 yearner!!, SMUT!! hange is a freak lowkey (obvi), face sitting, fingering hange, MDNI !!

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡

You wanted to follow them into the wooded area nearby, but it seemed Commander Erwin knew you weren’t exactly prepared for whatever Hange was up to during these scouting missions. Levi was frequently tasked with following them instead, known for his abilities to keep people from dying but also his annoyance in having to do so.

You stayed back at camp, shoulders slumped where you sat at a nearby picnic table. Commander Erwin was right, obviously. You’d just be a liability if you went with them, but it didn’t stop from making you worry. Hange and Levi were fully capable soldiers. Perhaps the most capable, actually. But being apart from them always made your heart beat faster and your head begin to ache. Despite their technical skills, Hange still always managed to put themselves in danger.

"Chin up, (Y/N)!"

You looked up, finding Petra alongside Oluo with jugs of water in their arms. You simply sighed. It wasn’t a secret to your comrades how much you cared for Hange — not by a long shot. It didn’t make the constant teasing any less annoying, though.

"Your little Hange will be back in no time, dear," Oluo had added, his voice taking on a twinge of teasing that had you rolling your eyes.

"I know that. I'm just... I dont know," you shrugged, "bored."

Petra let out a lighthearted laugh, placing the jug of water onto the table beside you. "Oh, so we bore you now?" She teased.

"It's not like that," you replied with look of embarassment. "You know I enjoy your company. It's just—"

"You'd rather be with Hange," Oluo finished for you, setting his water jug down with a smug grin. "We understand, don't we, Petra?"

Petra nudged him with her elbow but couldn't hide her smile. "Leave her alone, Oluo. Not everyone can be as stoic as you pretend to be."

Oluo scoffed, crossing his arms. "I don't pretend anything. I—" His words cut off as he accidentally bit his tongue, causing both you and Petra to stifle laughter.

The sound of commotion from the edge of camp caught your attention. Rising to your feet, you squinted toward the tree line, heart immediately racing when you spotted the returning group. Levi was in the lead, his expression even more sour than usual. Behind him was Hange, but they weren't walking properly—they were leaning heavily on another scout.

Without thinking, you broke into a run.

"What happened?" you called out, reaching them before anyone else from camp.

Levi clicked his tongue in annoyance. "Four-eyes decided to get too close to a cliff edge. Turns out unstable rock is still unstable, even for scientists."

Hange looked up at you with a bright smile despite the dirty bandage wrapped around their thigh and the various scratches on their face. "It was worth it though! The view from that position let me see exactly how the terrain affects titan movement patterns when—"

"Shut up," Levi cut them off. "Get them to the medical tent," he ordered the scout supporting Hange.

"I can help," you blurted, moving to Hange's other side and slipping their arm around your shoulders. The contact made your pulse race, even under these circumstances.

As you helped Hange toward the medical tent, you couldn't stop the worried questions tumbling from your lips. "How bad is it? Did you break anything? How much blood did you lose? Why weren't you being more careful?"

Hange laughed, their voice still enthusiastic despite their obvious pain. "It's just a flesh wound! Some rocks gave way, I slid about twenty feet down a slope. The cut on my leg is the worst of it."

"That's still serious!" you protested, helping them inside the tent where medical supplies awaited.

Your hands trembled slightly as you eased them onto a cot. Being this close, touching them, supporting their weight—it was both heaven and torture knowing it came at the cost of their injury.

"Really, (Y/N), I'm fine," Hange insisted as you and the other scout helped them onto a cot. "I've had much worse. Remember that time with the experimental trap and I—"

"I remember," you cut them off, not wanting to relive that particular memory. "That doesn't make this okay."

Levi appeared at the tent entrance, arms crossed. "The bandage needs changing. It's filthy, like everything else about you," he said pointedly towards Hange.

Despite his harsh words, Levi moved efficiently around the tent, gathering clean bandages and antiseptic. You helped Hange remove their gear and boots while they continued rambling excitedly about their findings, seemingly oblivious to both their injury and your distress.

"You should have seen it, (Y/N)! The formation of the ravine suggests that titans might be using these natural passages to travel undetected! If we map them all, we could potentially predict—"

"Hold still," you murmured, gently rolling up their pant leg to reveal the bloodied bandage. Your fingers brushed against their skin, and you hoped they wouldn't notice the way your hands shook.

When you unwrapped it, you couldn't help but gasp at the jagged gash that ran along their thigh. It wasn't life-threatening, but it was deep and angry-looking.

"See? Just a scratch," Hange said dismissively, then winced when Levi approached with the antiseptic.

"Some scratch," Levi muttered. "Hold them still," he instructed you.

You placed your hands on Hange's shoulders, hyper-aware of the warmth radiating through their shirt. They smelled like earth and sweat and blood, and still, somehow, it made your heart race. Hange's face contorted in pain as Levi cleaned the wound, and you found yourself wishing you could take their pain away.

Their eyes met yours, and they tried to mask their discomfort with a smile. "This is nothing compared to what I'm going to discover with this new information," they said through gritted teeth. "The commander will be pleased once I explain my theory about—"

"The commander," Levi interrupted, "will be pleased if you return with all your limbs attached. Which almost wasn't the case today."

Your grip on Hange's shoulders tightened involuntarily. "Please be more careful next time," you whispered, your voice betraying far more emotion than you intended. "I know your research is important, but..."

Hange reached up, placing their hand over yours. The casual touch sent electricity through your veins. Their eyes softened behind their glasses, and for a moment, the manic scientist facade fell away. "I know. I'll try to be more careful."

"No, you won't," Levi said flatly as he finished bandaging the wound. "But next time, maybe we'll let (Y/N) come along. She can't possibly do a worse job of keeping you alive than I did."

Your eyes widened in surprise. Was that Levi's way of complimenting you? Even Levi may have noticed your devotion to Hange, much to your embarassment.

"That's a wonderful idea!" Hange exclaimed, suddenly reinvigorated. Their hand was still on yours, and they gave it a squeeze that made your heart flutter embarrassingly. "Next time you can come with us, (Y/N)! I could use an assistant who actually cares about my research."

The thought of being alone with Hange in the field made your stomach do somersaults. You quickly looked away, certain your face betrayed every emotion you were trying to hide.

Levi scoffed as he packed away the medical supplies. "I didn't say anything about being an assistant to your suicidal experiments, Four-eyes. Just someone to make sure you don't break your neck."

Despite his harsh words, Levi had taken obvious care with the bandaging. He might act annoyed, but you knew he cared for Hange—just not in the same breathless, aching way you did.

"There," Levi said, straightening up. "Try not to reopen it with your constant fidgeting." He turned to leave but paused at the tent entrance. "And (Y/N), make sure they actually rest. Tie them down if you have to."

After he left, Hange chuckled, then winced again at the movement. "He's such a mother hen under all that scowling."

You sat down on the edge of the cot, closer than was strictly necessary. With the immediate crisis past, your body finally remembered how to breathe normally. "You really scared me today," you admitted softly.

Hange's smile faded into something more serious, more genuine, the slight quirk of their lips remained. Like they were genuinely very sorry for worrying you. "I'm sorry about that. But you know how important this research is. Every bit of information could save lives."

"I know," you sighed, finding the courage to meet their gaze. "Just... try to remember that your life is important too. To the regiment." You bit your lower lip, heart pounding in your ears before adding, "To me."

The words hung between you, more revealing than you'd intended. You looked down quickly, studying the threadbare blanket, terrified of what you might see in their eyes.

Hange was technically your superior, but still someone you had trained with. Their passion for knowledge about the titans was always intriguing to you, their approach to leading being much different from other section commanders in the regiment. Hange's intelligence was always really attractive to you, causing you to admire them since you met them. Your admiration was always from afar, though, at least until graduation from the cadet corps and when you began serving in a squad under their command.

However, despite everyone in your proximity being able to see how attached and borderline obsessed with Hange you were, Hange never said a word about it. You were unsure if they saw what everyone else saw.

Hange was quiet for a moment—an unusual state for them. "I'll keep that in mind," they said, voice uncharacteristically soft.

When you dared to look up, their expression had changed to something you couldn't quite read—something warm and focused entirely on you instead of titans or experiments. "And next time, you'll be right there with me. I promise it'll be exciting!"

You couldn't help but smile, despite knowing that "exciting" in Hange's vocabulary usually meant "dangerous." But as you looked at their eager expression, bright eyes shining with passion despite their injury, you knew you'd follow them anywhere—cliff edges and all.

"I'll hold you to that," you said. "Now get some rest before Levi comes back and really does tie you down."

"Stay," Hange said suddenly, making your body freeze momentarily. "I'm not going to be able to sleep anyway."

It didn't take much convincing, obviously. With the most brief hint of hesitation, you nod, heart racing rapidly in your chest. "Okay, I'll stay as long as you need."

It was pathetic, you thought. Sometimes you hated how much it showed when it came to your interactions with Hange, how much your devotion and attachment was present in your every word towards them.

"It's just nice to have someone who listens to my rambling without telling me to shut up every 2 seconds," Hange says with a fond smile, adjusting their glasses momentarily as they stared off at the medical supplies in the room.

"Oh, come on," you laugh, feeling your heart flutter at even the smallest amount of praise. "I tell you to shut up plenty."

"Only when you're worried," Hange countered, turning to look at you. "Which is all the time with you."

Their words made your breath catch and a flush creep up your neck. "I'm... I just... It's not really like that," you stuttered out, the implication that you worried all the time seemed vague and wasn't necessarily accurate to your character. The worrying was specifically reserved for Hange. Everyone knew that. You just weren't sure if Hange did.

"I only really worry about you, if I'm honest," you finally said quietly.

"Am I that reckless?" Hange asked sarcastically with a grin, obviously teasing you. After a beat of silence, they sigh. "I know. Moblit and Levi have been telling me for months about a soldier who's seemed attached to me at the hip, but I guess I was too preoccupied to realize who he was even talking about. Until now, at least."

You hum, not trusting yourself to speak. The confirmation that not only Levi and Moblit knew, but now Hange was beginning to understand made your heart race to the point you might've felt a bit dizzy. "I'm sorry," you say finally. "I don't mean to smother you or anything."

"Oh, not at all!" Hange assured you, waving their hands around, dismissing any insecurities you may have had a moment ago. "I actually find it rather endearing."

You genuinely were at a loss for words, still not trusting yourself to formulate a proper response that didn't involve stuttering.

Hange shifted on the cot, wincing slightly as they adjusted their injured leg, but their eyes never left your side profile. There was something different in their gaze now—a focused intensity that was usually reserved for their research.

"You know," Hange continued, their voice dropping to a softer tone, "for someone who notices everything about titans, I've been remarkably oblivious about what's been right in front of me."

You still weren't sure how to respond. You knew you probably looked or seemed ridiculous now. Just sitting there with your mouth closed, heart racing and your foot nervously tapping on the ground.

"Hange," you started. "I'm really sorry."

"For what?" They asked, confidence in their tone (as there usually was) and a pleased smile on their face. "I may be a bit slow on these matters," they admitted with a slight chuckle, "but I'm not completely hopeless The way you look at me sometimes... it's the same way I look at a breakthrough in my research."

The statement was so distinctively Hange that you had to smile, a bit of the tension leaving your shoulders. Hange said your name, making you look towards them. Their smile was warm on their face, eyebrows twisted up in something that may have been pity. Or that's just what you told yourself.

Hange's hand came up and gently cupped your cheek, their thumb swiping along your cheekbone tenderly. The touch made your breath hitch, but the kind smile on their face eased a lot of the nervousness you held moments ago.

"I'm sorry, for not realizing," Hange stated. "It must have been hard."

You shook your head, the gesture causing Hange's hand to drop from your face. "It wasn't, just..." you hesitated, unsure where the conversation was even going. Hange wasn't normally difficult to read, but with matters of the heart maybe you were also a bit ignorant. "Just being near you made me happy," you finally said, your voice shaky and soft.

Hange said nothing for a second before turning their body more towards you, their fingers coming up to brush some hair out of your face. The gesture was intimate, but most of all gentle. Gentle with your feelings but also of you in general.

"For what it's worth, every time I'm with you I'm happy, too," Hange said. "What that says about me, I never knew," their fingers pushed hair behind your ear, staying there motionless for a moment. "Until now."

You hummed, even you not oblivious to the tension accumulating here. The way Hange smiled at you, the way your gaze kept dropping to their lips, and the way Hange seemed to encourage it with their expression. None of it passed you by, but it didn't make you feel any less nervous.

"May I?" Hange whispered, gaze dropping to your lips.

Unable to find your voice, you simply nodded.

The first press of their lips against yours was gentle, questioning. Your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned into the kiss, years of longing finally finding release. Hange's hand slid from your cheek to the back of your neck, drawing you closer as the kiss deepened.

You felt pathetic when an involuntary whimper left your lips against theirs. Until you felt the grin forming on their lips, which made you feel more at ease. Hange tilted their head slightly, nose brushing against yours as their tongue found your mouth.

You felt completely under their control, completely theirs. When Hange's hand met the small of your back, you shivered, but then pulled away, breathless and dizzy with the same pounding in your chest.

"We shouldn't—your leg—"

"Don't care," Hange murmured against your lips, already leaned in again, their voice taking on that familiar stubborn tone that both frustrated and endeared them to you.

Their hands tangled in your hair as they pulled you back into the kiss, more insistent this time. You could feel their smile against your lips, feel the way their breath hitched when you tentatively placed your hands on their shoulders, fingers digging slightly into the fabric of their shirt.

You melted into their touch, years of silent longing pouring into each caress. Hange kissed with the same enthusiasm they approached everything else—thoroughly, passionately, with complete abandon. Their tongue traced the seam of your lips, requesting entry that you eagerly granted.

"I've wanted this," you confessed against their mouth, "for a really long time."

Hange hummed in response, one hand sliding down to your waist to pull you closer on the narrow cot. "How long?" they asked, breaking the kiss to trail their lips along your jawline.

"Since training," you admitted, tilting your head to grant them better access. Your breath caught when their teeth grazed the sensitive skin below your ear.

"That long?" Hange pulled back slightly, looking genuinely surprised. Their glasses had fogged slightly, and you couldn't help but smile at the sight. "I'm even more oblivious than I thought."

You reached up to remove their glasses, folding them carefully and placing them aside. Without the barrier, their eyes seemed even more intense, more vulnerable. "I didn't mind," you said, pressing your lips against theirs once more.

Soon, you found yourself kissing Hange more desperately, but not as pushy as someone else might've been. Instead, you gently eased them onto the cot, their head meeting the pillow.

"You're so pretty, Hange," you said, your expression carrying the weight of the words you spoke. And they were. Their brown hair, cut choppy and usually messy in a way that you found endearing and Levi found revolting, was now splayed across the light fabric of the pillowcase. Their eyes slightly hooded and lips parted. "So pretty," you repeated more to yourself, leaning down and kissing at their jawline.

"Can I touch you?" You ask, your body hovering above theirs and your hand carefully placed on their abdomen, making sure you put no pressure on their injured leg.

"What kind of question is that?" Hange joked, but still, they grabbed your hand, placing it where they wanted it against their breast. "Don't hold back. I know you're a shy one but don't let that stop you," they said with a smile.

Your heart raced furiously just at the contact of your hand on their breast. "But, your leg..." you started.

"Will be fine. Just touch me, I really could use this anyway," Hange said, grinning. "Especially from you," they added, their hand caressing the top of your head.

You nodded with a grunt of confirmation, your head dipping again to capture their lips. Your hands met the buttons of their shirt, popping them open as quick as you could. Once the shirt was opened, you moved your mouth to kiss at their neck and then collarbone, noting the way Hange gasped out when your hands touched their waist.

Your hands trailed upwards to dip beneath the fabric of their bra, feeling the soft flesh of their breasts and the hardening of their nipples. The moment your skin met theirs, Hange arched into your touch with a quiet moan, their fingers tangling in your hair to keep you close.

"Fuck," they sighed.

Your shyness warred with the hunger coiling in your belly, but the way they looked at you—like you were the only thing that mattered—made you bold. You dipped your head, taking one of their nipples into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the stiff peak before sucking gently.

"You're so good at that," Hange whimpered, body trembling beneath you at the contact that was so foreign to them until now.

Encouraged, you switched to the other nipple, lavishing it with the same attention while your hand slid down their stomach, fingers tracing the waistband of their pants. You hesitated only for a second before slipping beneath, finding the wet heat between their thighs through the fabric of their underwear. You were careful to not put any pressure on their hurt leg, continuing to lap at their nipple as they looked down at you.

"You're really wet," you breathed in admiration, your fingers touching and feeling outside of their underwear.

Hange bucked their hips impatiently.

"Please," they whined, their voice thick with need.

You exhaled shakily, finally pushing their panties to the side and letting your fingers touch their bare heat. The moment you touched their cunt, you felt how wet they were, how ready. Your fingers slid through their slick folds, feeling all the moisture that you caused physically evident.

"Hange," you said, your gaze looking down at them with a soft expression, one that expressed care and fondness.

Hange's hand met your forearm, obviously they were holding on by a thread in their restraint.

Getting the hint, you pressed your fingers against their clit, instantly hearing the sharp intake of breath it caused. You bit your lip, eyes locked with Hange's face, desperate to see their reactions to your touch.

You rub tight circles on their clit, relishing in the way Hange gasped, the way their thighs trembled.

Then, your fingers dipped lower. You started with one, pushing it into the core of their pussy. "God," Hange gasped, their grip on your forearm tightening enough to hurt but not enough to make you care. You then pushed another in, seeing the way Hange's lips parted as you did so.

“That’s it,” Hange panted, their thighs trembling around your wrist. “Just like that—fuck—don’t stop—”

You didn’t. You kept your pace relentless, watching their face twist in pleasure, their lips parted in silent moans. Their cunt was dripping now, your fingers sliding in and out with ease, each thrust drawing another breathy whimper from their lips.

Your thumb circled their clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves in time with the push and pull of your fingers. The wet sounds of your fingers pumping in and out of their needy pussy filled the tent, along with Hange's increasingly desperate moans and whimpers.

Your fingers delved deeper, sinking knuckle-deep into their tight heat. Hange moaned long and low, their hips undulating. "Oh fuck," their hand fisted in your hair as they pulled you into a messy kiss, all tongue and teeth and desperation.

You fingered them with clumsy fervor, pouring all your pent-up longing into each thrust. Hange met each pump of your wrist with a roll of their hips, fucking themselves on your hand.

"That's it, baby..." Hange panted against your lips, "fuck me with your fingers...wanna cum all over your hand..."

The filthy words falling from their lips only heightened your own need, but didn't stop the way your heart pounded and your face warmed in embarassment. It was a given that Hange of all people would talk like that during, well, this, but it still made your head short-circuit momentarily. You could feel your panties growing damp, your clit throbbing in time with the frantic hammer of your heart. But right now, your focus was on Hange, on bringing them pleasure.

You curved your fingers just so, rubbing insistently over that special spot inside. Hange cried out, their pussy clamping down like a vice. "I'm coming, shit!" Their body went rigid, then shook with the force of their orgasm.

Watching Hange come undone by your touch was the most erotic thing you'd ever seen. Their face was flushed, mouth open in a silent scream of ecstasy. You felt a rush of feminine pride and desire seeing the effect you had on them.

Finally, Hange collapsed back onto the cot, chest heaving. You slowly withdrew your fingers from their fluttering heat, bringing them to your mouth. Tasting Hange's essence for the first time. The flavor was salty and sweet, and you knew you wanted to spend a lifetime learning the taste of their skin.

Hange watched you through hooded eyes as you licked your fingers clean, their kiss-swollen lips curling into a satisfied grin. "I knew you'd be good at that," they murmured, reaching up to caress your cheek.

"What makes you say that?" You ask with a nervous laugh.

"If I say it, I'll be outed as a creep," Hange said ominously, making you laugh sincerely this time. You leaned down and kissed them tenderly, wanting to show them that your affection didn't come from just attraction and lust but because you've spent years admiring them.

"Now," Hange smiled, their hands wandering down your sides until they met your ass through your pants, "I want to taste you," they murmured, their voice rough with desire but the smile on their face remained. "I want to bury my face in your pussy and eat you out until you scream."

Your cheeks flushed an even deeper shade of red, arousal and nerves warring within you. "Oh god, Hange..." you laughed nervously, but it didn't stop the way your thighs trembled slightly. The idea of having their mouth on you, their tongue delving into your most intimate places...it was almost too much to comprehend.

"Please..." Hange pleaded with your name, fingers finding the button of your pants. "Let me taste you. Sit on my face," they said.

"What?" You nearly stuttered, eyes widened. "Hange, I can't-"

"Please," they repeated. "I can't really do it any other way," they added with a grin that showed you just how serious they were, "what with my hurt leg and all."

"Hange, what if—what if I hurt you more?"

They chuckled. "The only thing that’ll hurt is if you don’t let me eat you out right fucking now."

You bit your lip, the position that they suggested seeming dirty and not traditional to what you viewed as "normal" sex. But you nodded, understanding Hange's perspective and also the way your cunt ached beaneath your clothes.

Finally, you nodded, sitting up as Hange helped you slide your pants off. Now clad in just your underwear, Hange smiled at you. "Don't be nervous," they said, fingers already hooked at the hem of your underwear. "You're beautiful."

Soon, your underwear was removed, revealing the aching wetness of your pussy all in full view of Hange's eager gaze. Hange's hands gripped your ass, encouraging you to shift until you hovered over their face. You could feel their breath, hot and heavy, fanning over your dripping sex. Your heart pounded, but the ache between your legs was impossible to ignore.

Biting your lip, you slowly lowered yourself, straddling Hange's face. You let out a shocked gasp as you felt their mouth press against your wet pussy, their nose nestling into your mound. Hange groaned, their hands kneading the globes of your ass.

Hange didn't waste a second before diving in, their tongue delving between your swollen lips to lap at your dripping folds.

"Oh god, Hange!" you cried out, your hips jerking in surprise at the sudden, intense sensation. Their tongue explored your most intimate places, stroking and probing, tracing the shape of your slit. You could feel your arousal flooding out, coating Hange's chin and cheeks.

Hange groaned in approval, the vibrations of their voice adding a new layer of sensation. Their hands tightened on your ass, pulling you harder against their face. You knew they were injured, but right now all they cared about was the pleasure they were giving you.

You could feel their tongue circling your clit, flicking over the sensitive nub. Your head fell back and you moaned softly, too lost in sensation to feel shy anymore. You rolled your hips faster, fucking yourself on their face with abandon.

You moaned, fingers tangling in their hair as they devoured you, their nose pressing against your clit while their tongue fucked into you. The sounds were obscene—wet, sloppy, filthy—and your face burned at the realization that anyone outside the tent could probably hear.

You whimpered, rocking your hips against their mouth as they lapped at your dripping pussy. Their tongue plunged inside you, fucking you deep before withdrawing to tease your swollen clit again.

“H-Hange—” you gasped, hips jerking forward as their tongue curled inside you. “You—you feel so good—”

They groaned against your cunt, the vibration making you cry out. Their hands gripped your ass harder, pulling you down onto their mouth as they sucked your clit between their lips, tongue flicking rapidly.

You couldn’t stop yourself—your hips rolled shamelessly, grinding against their mouth as pleasure coiled tight in your belly. Hange moaned like they were the one being pleasured, their tongue working faster, their lips sucking harder—

And then you broke.

A strangled cry tore from your throat as you came, your pussy clenching around nothing, your thighs shaking as Hange lapped up every drop of your release. They didn’t stop until you were squirming from oversensitivity, your legs too weak to hold yourself up.

Slowly, you pushed yourself up, your body still thrumming with lingering pleasure. "We should… probably get dressed," you murmured, cheeks heating as you glanced at Hange’s disheveled state. Their hair was a wild mess, their shirt unbuttoned, and their pants still pushed down just enough to expose the bandage on their thigh.

Hange grinned, lazy and satisfied. "Mmm, shame. I was enjoying the view."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress your smile as you reached for your discarded clothes. Hange watched you with a lazy, satisfied smile as you pulled your pants back up, your fingers fumbling slightly with the fastenings.

"You’re adorable," they stated, their voice still rough. You shook your head with a big smile on your face.

As you pulled your shirt back on, you glanced over at Hange, who was struggling to sit up without aggravating their injury.

"Here, let me," you said softly, moving to help them.

You carefully adjusted their pants, smoothing the fabric over their hips before gently tugging them back into place. Then, you reached for their hair, combing your fingers through the tangled brown strands, trying to tame some of the chaos. Hange sighed contentedly, leaning into your touch like a cat.

"You’re good at this," they murmured.

You huffed a quiet laugh. "At fixing your hair?"

"At taking care of me," they corrected, their voice softer than usual.

Your hands stilled for a moment, heart swelling in your chest. "I… like taking care of you," you admitted, barely above a whisper.

Your hands lingered in their hair, your heart suddenly pounding for an entirely different reason. Now that the heat of the moment had passed, the weight of what just happened settled over you.

"...I really like you, Hange," you admitted softly, your voice barely above a whisper. "Like, really like you."

Hange’s expression softened, their usual manic energy replaced by something quieter, warmer. They reached up, cupping your cheek.

"I know," they teased with a smile, laughing when you rolled your eyes. "I like you ,too. More than I thought I did, I think."

Your heart raced. You didn't even know where to go from here, but when Hange's hand met yours it put your mind at ease.

Then, from outside the tent, Levi’s voice cut through the moment like a knife. "(Y/N)!" Your head whipped around to where he was calling, seeing his short silhouette. "If you two are done defiling medical supplies, Erwin wants a debrief."

"Okay!" You called back, then turned to Hange.

"I'll, uh, check on you later, okay?" You said, turning to leave.

Hange nodded, stretching their arms with a sigh as their fingers ran through your hair once. "Levi definitely heard, by the way."

[arminsumi]

I want to kiss you / キスしたい

G. Satoru

NOTE: i recently started learning to write in japanese for not much reason other than to occupy my mind with something new. this little daydream came to me and i can't stop thinking about it, i think falling in love despite a language barrier is one of the purest and sweetest ways to fall in love.

WARNINGS — it might be fem reader idk, kissing 👍, ur married w him at the end, not proofread lol i'm snuggled up in bed ok

Satoru cant speak english and you cant speak japanese; Suguru is the translator friend. You met him online years ago, who knows how. But you hit it off, and four years of friendship rolled by.

Satoru heard all about Y/n and saw you many times when Suguru facetimed or called you. You and him had many cute, playful interactions, ranging from making hearthands at each other to flipping each other off and laughing about it. Sometimes Satoru would be sat off-camera, overloading Suguru with things to translate, because he had a lot to say to you. One time, Suguru left for a few minutes to get a pizza delivery, and then Satoru got very quiet and the two of you blinked at your screens.

"Hi."

"Hi."

And then you two for some reason started laughing with your whole chests, Suguru walked in with a confused smirk. He joked, "Sooo... what did you and Satoru talk about while I was gone?" He asked, gentle accent coming through in soft waves. "The mysteries of the universe." You replied. Satoru was already diving into the pizza box, but he still listened to you speak; he wondered what you had said, maybe you used some fancy words to say that you liked him? He'd be lying if he said he didn't memorize variations of "i like you" after that. He was paranoid that he could miss you saying that you liked him.

You managed a slow, meticulously-pronounced nice to meet you in Japanese when you finally visited Tokyo. It was at the airport. You and Suguru had shared many hugs — good grief, you'd seen height comparisons many times but none painted a real idea of just how big these boys were. But Satoru? He was loudmouthed on a screen and surprisingly shy in person. Eventually he hugged you and didn't let go. He even got so comfy as to hang and cling to your body like you saw him doing with Suguru in countless photos and videos.

Though you could barely pronounce the little Japanese that you picked up, Satoru felt giddy to hear your pretty voice in his language. He listened to you like you were reciting love poetry to him, fists under his chin and eyes starry. But you were just saying basic phrases, boring things — nothing that articulated your thoughts properly.

He was far too embarrassed to try and speak any English when he first met you, even though after developing a crush on you he did start learning some English on the side. He knew quite a bit, but listening was so impossibly difficult it frustrated him like nothing else. He was also self-conscious of his English accent, though Suguru tried to assure him that he sounded very cute and almost oddly British.

So often instead of attempting to speak tiny phrases to you, Satoru threw a lot of hand motions and signals your way which got the two of you and Suguru laughing — poor Sugie, he was always translating even the smallest things you said even if you muttered them under your breath, because Satoru was eager to know every little thought and expression you had, even if you were simply commenting on the weather.

Once you commented that it was so hot, you were visiting during a heatwave-filled summer. Satoru raised his brows at Suguru expectantly, and you heard a familiar translation;

暑い。

It's hot.

There was such a frustrating language barrier between the two of you, it became more evident when you had finally flown over the sea to meet them.

Yet you and satoru fell in love silently and beautifully, your love flowing like a river in the most unexpected directions. You felt his affection emanating from his irises. You and him joked around, and talked — though you had no idea what the other meant most of the time. Sometimes the two of you gave up and you talked in English, he responded with Japanese, and it went on like that very comedically until Suguru came back to bridge the gap.

Lots of time was spent putting your heads together over your phone, reading translations of what you wanted to say to each other.

One day, when Suguru left the two of you alone in his apartment kitchen so that he could hop to the convenience store, Satoru typed something into the translator and let you read it. Your face warmed up.

キスしたい。

I want to kiss you.

He looks at you expectantly.

You type back to him.

Then kiss me.

それからキスして。

He blushed and hesistated, the two of you making electric eye contact for a while before he boyishly pecked your lips to test if you liked his kiss, but oh that's all the two of you needed to realize just how much you liked each other. You melted into each other like your bodies were made for nothing else but to embrace and be one. He shook a little, tentatively gliding his lips over yours. His hands nervously cupped your cheeks. With the way he handled you so carefully, you'd think you were made of porcelain.

Your reciprocation meant everything to him. His confidence flourished. The soft smacking, wet sounds got louder when he kissed you more passionately. Those gentle hands found their way to the back of your neck, and he softly pressed you closer to him as if he was scared you would pull away. What if you changed your mind mid-kiss? He was overthinking and you wouldn't have even guessed it, because you thought he was in the same blissed out dream state as you were. So high on kissing that the world fell away.

The two of you started smiling embarrassedly, grinning so hard that you couldn't continue kissing. Then the two of you just giggled against each other's faces — a subconscious realization swept him; laughter and kissing are their own languages.

Yes as years passed and you visited time and time again, your Japanese improved and his English improved. When you moved to Japan, eventually you adopted a messy mix of Japanese and English with Satoru. He liked showing off how perfectly he could pronounce things, and you liked showing off that you could write very neat kana.

Years and years and years passed and when you and him were married in your own little apartment, starting a life together, a very fluent Satoru reminisced about how the two of you fell in love despite barely speaking to each other.

"It was your eyes for me." You said.

"Oh really? It was your voice for me. I didn't know what you were saying, but it sounded nice." He said.

"Mmm I liked your voice, too." You said, snuggling your head on his shoulder. He basked in the attention, though it was common, it always felt special for him. The smallest hand touches and wrist kisses made his heart lurch.

"Remember when I always nagged Suguru to translate every little thing you said?"

"Yeah, you worked him to the bone." You chuckled.

"I just wanted to know what you were saying. I had such a crush on you, looking back now it was even ridiculous how much I liked you considering the barrier and all."

"Ooh, did you?"

"How is this surprising? We're married??"

"Oh yeah."

[st4rgiirll]

first i love you

s2!jj maybank x gf!reader

creds: roseraris for dividers!

the sunrise painted kildare island in shades of gold, and for once, jj was awake to see it. he sat at the end of the dock, legs dangling over the water, his usual bravado stripped away by the early morning quiet.

you found him there after waking up to a cold bed, with no protective arm around you. you knew where he’d be, he always sat by the water when his thoughts got too loud.

“couldnt sleep?” you ask, settling beside him.

you lean your head on his shoulder, you felt his head rest on your own.

“nah.” he replied, his signature half-smile playing at his lips. “too much thinking. dangerous activity, i know.”

you smiled slightly, pushing his side lightly. after months of being together, you’d learned to read between the lines when it came to him, to understand when his jokes were armour rather than humour.

”want to talk about it?” jj was quiet for a long moment, his eyes fixated on the horizon where the sun was climbing higher in the sky.

his fingers fidgeted with the bandana tied around his wrist - one you’d given him months ago when he’d cut his hand trying to fix his bike. he washed it and kept it, asking you to tie it around his wrist and of course you obliged.

“my old man showed up yesterday,” he finally said, his voice barely about a whisper.

“started spouting the same old shit, ‘bout how im just like him, how i’ll never amount to anything.”

your heart clenched. you’d seen the shadow his father had cast on him, how deep those wounds ran. “jj…” you started, but he shook his head.

“that’s not even the part that kept me up.” he continued, finally turning to look at you. his blue eyes were intense, vulnerable in a way you rarely saw them.

“what kept me up was thinkin’ about how different everything is now. how different i am. ‘cause of you.” your breath caught in your throat.

jj maybank didnt do serious conversations, didnt bare his soul unless something was really eating at him.

“you make me want to be better.” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “you make me believe i can he. and thats…” he swallowed hard.

“that’s fucking terrifying.”

“why is it terrifying?” you asked softly, despite already knowing the answer.

“because i love you.” he blurted out, then immediately looked away, as if bracing for impact. “and everyone i’ve ever loved has either left or hirt me and i cant… i cant lose you too.”

the vulnerability in his voice made your heart ache. this was jj maybank, the real one - no swagger, no deflecting jokes, just raw honesty from a boy who’d never been taught how to love or be loved properly.

you reached out, gently turning his face back toward you. his eyes met yours, uncertainty warring with hope in their depths.

“jj maybank.” you said firmly. “i love you too. and im not going anywhere.”

the smile that broke across his face was like watching the sun come out after a storm - brilliant and a little disbelieving. before you could say anything else, he pulled you into a kiss that tasted of salt air and promise.

when you finally broke apart, he pressed his forehead against yours, letting out a shaky breath. “say it again.” he whispered, and you could hear the smile in his voice.

“i love you.” you repeated, feeling him pull you closer.

“one more time?” you laughed, the sound carrying across the water.

“i love you, you idiot.”

“good.” he murmured, pressing a kiss to your temple. “‘cause i love you too, and i plan on saying it until you’re sick of hearing it.”

“i dont think that’s possible..” you smile, nuzzling your face into him.

the sun was fully up now, turning the water to diamonds, and jj’s arms were warm around you. you stayed there together, watching the island wake up, both understanding that something had shifted between you – something as vast and deep as the ocean stretching out before you.

and for the first time in his life, jj maybank wasn't scared of falling. he was already caught.

[1x1x1x1x1x1x1x1]

Can I get a headless horsemen!reader thats one of the killer's with the other in forsaken? Please and thank you!🙏😔

OH MY GOD THIS IS SUCH A GENIUS IDEA WHAAAATTTTT

oh this will be FUNN🤤🤤

im deadass half asleep writing this so there are gonna be some typos but ion care and i will NOT be rereading 🤞💔

defo OOC,, coughs loudly

enjoy mwah

Forsaken Killers × Headless Horseman!Reader

1×1×1×1｡𖦹°‧

Well he was,, quite shocked to see you here.

She HAS met you once, before you got stuck in this living hell, it was during halloween when you were haunting some robloxians, it was just a quick pass by and you probably didnt even notice them,,

You're probably one of the only 'people' that she has even a bit respect for, after all, you are the infamous legend that makes robloxians shiver.

He tried talking to you once, although after hearing your voice, basically thundering, she stammered a bit before giving up and saying that they have something to do, some kind of cheap excuse not to embarras himself further. NOBODY needs to know that he stuttered. She will rip any witnesses to shreds.

He likes spectating you, watching your gameplay as you server-wipe with incredible speed,

She hopes that somehow you DID notice him and think of them too,,,, you just keep spinning around in her head

John Doe

Hes,,,, confused, (as always)

He has also met you before, he just doesnt remember.

Sometimes when he looks at you, his memories go back a little bit, small glimpses of his past coming back to him.

Hes one of the only robloxians that arent scared of you, its pretty hard for him to be scared when he cant proxess emotions properly

Most of the time he just,, stares. and thats pretty much it. He stares and stares, his gaze completely blank.

You cant really tell what hes thinking about, you can only guess,,

forsaken!Jason𓌏་༘࿐

Well, hes seen you a few times

You guys are both one of the more 'popular' horror mascots when it comes to halloween, so there was no need for introduction when you arrived once again.

You guys,, didnt talk a lot,, but still got along pretty well

Silent nods of acknowledgement and pats on the back for a server wipe mostly.

it was a pretty healthy 'relationship', if you can call it that.

C00lkidd.✶ ⋆ (PLANTONIC!!)

he thinks youre REALLY cool,,

although, he was a bit scared at first

Mostly because his dad, on halloween night, used to tell him stories about you, that you punish bad kids for staying up past their bedtime or something along these lines,,

Youre not so scary tho!!1! (in his eyes)

Definetly gives you his drawing from time to time, mostly starring you and Daredevil(your horse)

Wether you accept them or deny them is your choice (He will be really sad and walk away with a frown for the rest of the day if you dont take them,,)

He annoys you from time to time, but youre just used to it, so you just go along with it,,

Noli-.ᐟ.ᐟ

Jesus,, this guy,,

The first killer to come up to you, and the one with the balls to even do it.

He immediately starts asking some random questions about you, about your head and how that hole in your neck (where your head is supposed to be) works, i think you know where hes trying to get with this,,

A nuisance to you, is what he is. His flirty remarks and empty promises on what he will do once you all get out of here. Its all just to get under your skin (at least from your point of view)

He does it mostly to piss you off, and for the love of the game. But a part of him has to admit that you are quite attractive (at least from what HE finds attractive,,,,)

He just thinks youre playing hard to get, and you think hes just annoying. Pretty much it.

Mafioso🂱⚔

Well, hes quite scared of you.

No thats not true,, hes not scared of anything! Maybe just a little bit,, wary of you,,

He has given you some nasty looks (mostly on accident,) and when you turn to look at him, he quickly turns away from embarrasment.

Pretty mixed signals,,

He told his men multiple times to watch out if they are next to you, probably cause hes worried about them. AND hes heard a lot of diffrent things about you from multiple legends,

After a while, when he sees you as a bit,, less,, of a threat he tries talking to you. And aside from the way you talk mostly in fancy, old words (similar to Dusekkar) you were quite nice, enjoyable company, even.

Maybe youre not so bad after all

erm,, hi!!1!

*gets booed and thrown with tomatoes

owh,,,,.. ow,, owguys,, guys,, cut it out guys,,,,ouch,,,,,,,

[lynbels]

KEEP IT DOWN ⟡ sjy

pairing jake x reader

⟡ synopsis: he said “meet his parents,” ‘not try to stay quiet while I ruin you.’ ✉️ 870 wc ‼️ - Sexual content / smut, public risk of being caught (semi-public play) power dynamics (light dom/sub undertones), degration (mild—e.g., “good girl”), language 📝: down fucking bad for this man. Guys pls send me requests I’m bored out of my life

You step inside the house and are immediately enveloped by the scent of rosemary, garlic, and something sweet baking in the oven. Jake’s hand settles at the small of your back as he closes the door behind you, his touch subtle, yet grounding — like he’s anchoring you to him even in this domestic space.

“There you are!” his mother says warmly, stepping forward and pulling you into a soft hug before you can even properly greet her. “It’s so lovely to finally meet you.”

His father, more reserved, offers a firm handshake. “Y/n! We’re glad to have you.”

“Thank you,” you reply with a polite smile. “It’s really nice to be here.”

“Dinner’s nearly ready,” his mother continues. “Why don’t you two go upstairs and get settled?”

Jake brushes his hand against yours discreetly, the touch fleeting but deliberate.

You nod, following Jake up the stairs, each step sending your heart thudding louder in your chest — from nerves, sure, but also from the heat radiating off of him. You can already feel the way his fingers itch to touch you, the way he’s been restraining himself ever since you pulled into the driveway.

The moment his bedroom door shuts behind you with a quiet click, he’s on you.

Jake doesn’t waste time. His lips find yours in a heated kiss, rough with urgency, his hands cradling your jaw as he walks you backwards until your spine meets the wall.

“Been thinking about this all day,” he whispers between kisses, voice low and husky. “The way you act so innocent in front of them — knowing exactly what I want to do to you.”

Your breath catches as his fingers slip beneath your shirt, splaying across your waist and dragging slowly up to cup your breast. His thumb brushes over your nipple through your bra, making you inhale sharply.

“Jake, they’re right downstairs,” you whisper, barely audible.

“I know,” he murmurs, mouth grazing the shell of your ear. “That’s what makes it so hot. Cant help myself—just missed my girl so much.”

You shiver as he sinks to his knees, hands trailing down to your waistband. He unbuttons your jeans, pulling them down with practiced ease, followed by your underwear. You instinctively clamp your thighs together — not from shyness, but from the anticipation already pooling low in your belly.

Jake spreads your legs gently, lifting one of them over his shoulder as he leans in, breath warm against your core. But he doesn’t go straight to it. His fingers slide along your folds first, dragging through your slick with agonizing slowness.

“You’re already this wet for me?” he says, gaze flicking up to meet yours. “Fuck, baby.”

You swallow hard, trying not to whimper as he presses one finger inside you — slow and deliberate. The stretch is sweet, easing in smoothly as he curls it slightly.

“Need to get you ready,” he mutters, adding a second finger. “Want you to take me so well, baby. Gotta stretch you out first, nice and slow.”

Your hands grip the edge of his dresser for support as his fingers move in slow, scissoring motions, coaxing your body open. His thumb rubs tight circles on your clit, and your legs nearly give out.

“Don’t make a sound,” he warns gently, lips brushing your inner thigh. “You don’t want them to hear how good I’m making you feel, do you?”

You bite your lip, nodding frantically as he keeps working you open, his fingers slick with your arousal, his voice a sinful whisper of praise and filth.

“That’s it,” he groans. “So tight and wet. I can feel you clenching already.”

By the time he rises to his feet, pulling his jeans down and guiding himself against your entrance, you’re trembling. He eases into you slowly, both hands braced against the wall on either side of your head.

“Jesus, you feel perfect,” he breathes. “Made for me.”

Your eyes flutter shut, lips parting in a gasp that he quickly swallows with a kiss. He moves carefully, shallow at first, hips rolling into you with a rhythm that keeps you quiet, keeps you on edge.

“Gonna fill you up,” he mutters, voice rough. “And you’re gonna take it like a good girl — quietly.”

You bite into his shoulder to muffle your moans, fingers gripping the back of his shirt like a lifeline as he drives into you, harder now but still controlled — calculated. You can feel it building, heat curling in your stomach, every thrust sending sparks through your core.

“Come for me,” he whispers against your lips. “Right here, against this wall, while my parents are downstairs.”

That’s all it takes.

You fall apart around him, your body tightening, pulsing, trembling as you cling to him and ride the wave — silent but intense. Jake follows soon after, pressing his forehead to yours as he groans softly, his release warm and deep.

You both stay there for a moment, panting, bodies tangled and still pressed to the wall.

Then, a voice floats up from downstairs.

“Jake, honey? Dinner’s ready!”

Jake grins, breathless. “Guess we better freshen up.”

You can barely speak, but you nod. And as you grab your jeans, trying to look even remotely composed, he leans in with a wicked smirk.

“Think they noticed?”

enjoy my fics? Read my full length ones at @shy9-29

[manmuncher777]

Hello lovely! I have another sharing Gojo and Geto x reader request 🫣 Could you do one where they are all laying in bed together and it gets very handsy then [reader] gets thigh fucked, or just very based on grinding?

CUDDLES

Satoru Gojo x reader x Suguru Geto SMUT 18+MDNI

You were meant to be just sleeping. Just relaxing after a movie night.

But you couldn’t exactly fall asleep with Satoru drinking into you gently from behind. Suguru’s wandering hands didnt help either. No matter how hard you tried to keep your eyes closed and resist their touches, you couldn’t help the way your body moved with them, craving their touches.

And they could tell as well, giving them both the confidence to keep toying with you. Just the way they knew you liked.

“She’s squirming,” Suguru mumbled, fingers tracing over the damp patch on your sleep shorts. “You feel this Satoru?”

Gojo let out a hum of agreement, nuzzling deeper into your neck “how could I not?”

You inhaled shakily, pulse hammering “I wasn’t… I wasn’t trying to do anything.”

“You didnt have to sweets” his voice low and breathless as his hips rocked into you, slow and deep.

Your moan catches in your throat, Suguru’s fingers applying more and more pressure now, causing your hips to buck

“You’re falling apart” Suguru said softly, voice edged with dark amusement. “What a pretty little mess”

“Shit sweetheart.” Satoru keens into your neck, hands finding your waist you can feel every thick inch of him pressed into your backside. Only to be met with Suguru at your front. “What are you trying to do to me?”

“I can’t-“ you whisper, voice crackling with need “y-youre both so close, I just - cant think.”

You let out a soft cry, the attention too much. Gojo’s hips rocked into you into you lazily, teasing. The thick weight of him sliding against the curve of your ass like hes testing your limits.

“That’s okay, pretty” Suguru murmurs. Groaning as his fingers slip underneath your shorts. Tracing over your soaked cunt “we’ll do the thinking for you”

“She’s shaking,” he murmurs, kissing at your neck so hungrily, nipping at the skin. “Suguru, she’s fucking trembling.”

You are. Hands gripping the sheets, whole body thrumming with anticipation as Gojo’s pace increases, and then suddenly for him to pull back—freeing his cock from his joggers.

“Tell us,” Suguru murmurs near your ear, voice deep and slow like syrup. “You like this, don’t you? Having us both here. Touching you. Watching you fall apart.” His fingers stop their movements on your clit, dragging your short down your legs, leaving your bare for them both

Your chest rises and falls, breath caught between a sob and a moan. “Y-Yes,” you whimper. “I need it—need you.”

Gojo smirks. “No no, baby,” he coos, dragging his cock along your folds, coating himself in your slick. Only to pull back, slipping away from you once shin. “Say it properly. Say you like being used by us.”

You’re flushed, pulse racing—brain fogged with desire. It’s humiliating, how fast you answer.

“I l-like being used,” you gasp. “By you—both of you.”

“Good girl,” Suguru praises, hand gently cradling your jaw as he watches you squirm. “You’re so honest when you’re this wet.”

Gojo doesn’t say anything this time. Dead set on bringing you to tears this evening. Slipping his cock between the plush skin of your thighs, his length just missing where you needed him.

Suguru’s fingers finding you once more, meeting the growing wetness of your pussy, fingers rubbing cruel circles over your clit.

You cry out instantly, hips lifting off the bed as his fingers slides through your folds, firm and slow, before flattening over your clit. He groans against you—like he’s the one who’s been desperate.

“Oh my god—” you moan, legs kicking slightly, held still by his grip. “Suguru—”

“Fuck,” he groans, dragging the head of his cock along your inner thighs, rubbing through the mess he made. “Look at this. You’re still dripping, baby.”

You whimper, back arching, your thighs instinctively squeezing around him. The feeling of his cock sliding between them, wet and hot and twitching, has you dizzy all over again.

“Oh, she likes this,” Suguru mutters from beside you, watching the way your lips part and eyes flutter. “Just being touched has you gone, huh?”

Gojo grins down at you, eyes half-lidded, hair a tousled mess. “You’re gonna let me fuck these pretty thighs till I cum, yeah?”

You nod fast, dazed and needy. “Yes—yes, please—”

He groans and starts to thrust, slow at first, the slick slide obscene and filthy. Your skin sticks to his with every motion, and your thighs squeeze tighter just to feel more of him.

“God, you feel so good,” Gojo pants, staring down at the spot where his cock disappears between your thighs. “Fuckin’ perfect. You were made for this, weren’t you?”

You can barely breathe. Every rut of his hips sends heat back into your core, every low moan of his makes your pulse spike again.

“You gonna cum like this, Satoru?” Suguru asks lazily, eyes sharp as he watches.

“Oh yeah,” Gojo breathes, thrusts getting faster, rougher now, as he fucks between your thighs with reckless, wet rhythm. “You gonna let me make a mess all over you, princess?”

You whimper, head lolling back. “Please—want it—want all of it—”

“Oh, she likes that,” Gojo grins down at you, breathless as he fucks harder between your thighs, cock twitching against the sensitive skin. “Look at her, Suguru. Fucking gone.”

You’re whining now, completely undone, eyes glassy and lips parted as Suguru keeps teasing your clit. His fingers get rougher, rubbing you just right as you writhe beneath the two of them.

“Go on,” Suguru breathes, lips brushing your ear, voice like sin. “Let go for us. Let Satoru feel how wet you get when you cum.”

“I—I can’t—” you gasp, overwhelmed, but Suguru shushes you.

“Yes, you can. You’re so close. Give it to us, pretty girl.”

Gojo groans above you, his rhythm stuttering between your thighs. “Fuck, fuck—she’s squeezing her legs—shit, Suguru, she’s gonna—”

And then you break.

Your entire body locks up as pleasure tears through you, hard and messy. You cry out, thighs clenching tight around Gojo, grinding desperately against Suguru’s hand while you cum—wet and pulsing, slick gushing onto both of them.

That’s all it takes.

“Fuck—fuck—baby—”

With a loud groan and one final snap of his hips, Gojo spills between your thighs, hot and thick and so much it coats your skin and drips down. He moans through it, eyes locked on yours, hips twitching as he rides out every last pulse of pleasure.

“God damn,” he pants, collapsing onto his elbows, face close to yours. “That’s your fault. You’re too perfect.”

Suguru hums. “Better clean her up. We’re not done yet.”