#and talk about saps thighs | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

heartkaji · 3 months

Text

2O WOMEN VS 1 EGOIST !

bllk boys if they were in the videos by the sidemen + beta squad

includes: michael kaiser, isagi yoichi, nagi seishiro, itoshi sae

MICHAEL KAISER !

“kaiser, ask her if she’d let you put your balls in her jaw.”

isagi’s voice is only a static crackle through the ear piece speaker, but it’s more than enough to have kaiser gnashing teeth & wrinkling nose. it was taking everything in his power not to snap the headset between his fingers. kaiser wasn’t even sure why he had to do this ; fuck yoichi and fuck bastard münchen’s publicity team.

he tries for an exhale but his dignity accompanies it, “would you let me put my balls in your jaw ?”

you’re the third girl who’s sat with kaiser so far & fuck his heart is aching— you’re far too pretty for this, blood drenched cheeks & freckled nose & silver draped around your neck like rings of vined ivy. kaiser can’t help but wonder why a pretty thing like you is here seeking male validation in thigh highs & skimpy bralette. surely someone of your beauty would know better, no ?

“what ?”

you ask so sweetly, lashes fluttering as you blink hurriedly as if it’ll help you hear better. if you were actually somebody, michael kaiser would be almost embarrassed by now, but you’re only pink painted lips & syrupy sweet voice so kaiser clears his throat & swallows his pride. he parts his lips to repeat the query but a hiss in his ear interrupts him, “she didn’t hear you, say it a—“

kaiser snaps the headset between his fingers & tosses it somewhere behind him. “i said, can i take you out sometime ?”

ISAGI YOICHI !

“try to sit on her lap while she’s talking.”

“you lot can’t be serious.”

unfortunately for yoichi, hiori & kurona were dead serious. he picked at the earpiece as you babbled on about your ideal first date, teeth kissing as he plotted on how he’d sit himself between your thighs.

“— and i’m not trying to be different or anything, but i think dinner dates are rather boring. i’d rather go to an amusement park or—“

“same, honestly,” yoichi was a charmer with a voice heavier than tree sap. his baritone alone had your guts knotting & spilling. “rides are way more exciting, really get your adrenaline going huh ? and then at the end of the date you share a kiss on the ferris wheel. i fuck with that.”

you blink, flesh pinkening & blush crawling up your throat as your fingers play with your bag strap. yoichi thinks you’re cute. you’re a fucking doll really, a pretty little thing isagi has decided he likes staring at.

yoichi can’t help but tease your further, “you wouldn’t mind if i kissed you on a ferris wheel, right ?”

you bite your inner cheek & yoichi swears you’re the cutest thing in the world. as if rehearsed, you cross your legs, shoulders tucking as you straighten your spine,

“on the first date, isagi ? quite the manwhore aren’t you ?”

it catches him by surprise but also pulls him back to earth. he bites his tongue, “oh ? when would you let me kiss you then ?”

he gets off his seat as he speaks, striding towards you like it’s the most normal thing in the world. you choke on your tongue, “um, me ? on the first date is a bit too— isagi ? what are you—?”

he positions himself on your lap. “you were saying ?”

yoichi’s ear piece blares with booms of laughter. “nah this man’s not real ! man said—“

NAGI SEISHIRO !

“are you a magician ? because when i look at you, everyone else disappears.”

“next.”

this was the eighth girl nagi had rejected. each girl came in with a new pick up line, and to nagi, each one seemed to be worse than the last.

“nagi, you have to say yes to someone already. you’ve rejected almost every— don’t listen to chigiri, nagi ! you don’t have to say yes to any of these bitches—“

nagi was about mid eye roll when you walked in.

you were rose dappled cheeks & fluffy jacket upon crème tee. your eyes met the room before his, scanning the seemingly infinite white walls & high ceiling. you even did a little wave to the camera before taking your seat. cute

even then, your eyes settled everywhere except him.

“hi,” he broke you out of your trance.

“ah— hello !” you flash him a shy grin, dimpled cheeks & freckled nose. “i was supposed to say a pick up line, right ? are you french, because—“

“no, no, please don’t,” nagi interrupts. you’re a pretty thing, red bruised knee bouncing over the other as you tuck away a strand of hair. fuck, you’re like candy for the eye.

“you get a pass.”

“huh ? but my pick up line—“

“no need, it’s a yes from me.”

pretty pink lips bend into a pout & nagi is almost tempted to let you say your line, but he shudders at the thought of your incomplete statement. you nod a bow & show yourself out with another tiny wave to the camera. perhaps this game isn’t all that bad after all.

mid thought, nagi’s earpiece crackles to life. “nagi, why’d you say yes ?! what’s she got that—“

ITOSHI SAE !

“ask her if she’d get with a bisexual dude.”

“what ? stop it shidou he doesn’t like dudes. ask her if she—“

“how about i ask her to shut the fuck up?”

sae says it a bit too loudly so your eyes widen a bit before you seemingly shrink in on yourself. sae hadn’t actually meant it—he was only trying to put a stop to the squabbling in his ears but now your nose is red & you’re biting your lip like you’re about to cry.

truthfully, he doesn’t give a fuck.

but his PR team sure does. sae was live right now & his public image already wasn’t the prettiest. he’d also rather not receive yet another lecture from his manager.

“um, girl number nine ?”

the sound of a facepalm rattles in his earpiece. “isn’t she like, the fourth girl ?”

sae bites his bottom lip. you’re fidgeting with your nails & your breathing seems heavy & your eyes seem to be everywhere but his. you don’t even respond to his call. he sighs.

“that wasn’t meant for you, sorry.” he swallows. “you were talking about red flags in a relationship, right ?”

you seem to perk up—perhaps you thought he wasn’t listening ? you were going on & on but how could sae not pay you any mind when your voice seemed smoother than redwine & myrrh ?

“yes—yes i was ! um, what about you ? any red flags ?”

“when they’re too horny.” a damn-it ! blares through his ear piece.

you nod, “i get that. though honestly, i’m a bit of a freak myself.”

you say it like you didn’t just admit to being a professional dick sucker. “sae, ask her for her number—“

he taps a button & the humming in his ear ceases. “a freak, you say ? do elaborate.”

805 notes · View notes

aothotties · 4 months

Text

Telling Choso you want a baby

Word count: 1635

Warnings: MDNI, best friend!Choso, fluff, smut, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of kids, swearing, riding, overstimulation, creampie, the ending is so cute to me.

~~~~~~

You and your best friend are currently lying in his bed while watching random videos as they come and go. You stumble upon a video of a mom showing flashbacks of her body during pregnancy and you can’t help but pout.

“What's wrong?” He mumbles and yawns for a few seconds, followed by a stretch after he throws his phone to the side.

“It’s nothing, I’m just being a sap.” You show him the video on your phone and he shrugs in return.

“Yeah, cute kid I guess. Mom’s got a nice body though.” He rests his chin on your shoulder and you roll your eyes.

“Of course, that’s all you notice, you’re such a man.” You scroll to another video and double tap the screen.

He shakes his head at your reaction and takes the phone from your hand so he can scroll through your feed himself.

“So you’re on some baby kick, huh?” You shrug in return and pull your legs up to your chest.

“I don’t know maybe, I think I want a baby, Cho.” You confess and he nearly drops the phone on his face at the confession.

“Where in the hell did that come from?” He sits up in bed and gives you his full attention.

You shy away from the question and cover your face with your hands in embarrassment. Choso finds it adorable at how flustered you become over the simple question.

“I’m not sure, I’ve wanted a baby for a while now. You know I’ve always wanted to be a mother. I just could never find the right guy to settle down with.” You explain to him and he listens to every word you say.

“I’ll have a baby with you.” He says nonchalantly and you look at him as if you’ve seen a ghost.

“Excuse me?! Cho, are you high or something?” You scan over his face for a sign of his words being a joke, but there isn’t one.

“Well for starters, I’m typically always high, you know that. And yeah, why not? You want a baby, I don’t hate the thought of having kids either. You don’t think we’d make cute babies? He pretends to be offended and you slap his shoulder.

You don’t hate the idea of having a baby with him. No, you guys aren’t together, but you’ve been friends for more than 10 years. You two have had sex in the past, so it’s not like you haven’t seen each other naked. And you won’t deny the fact that he is quite handsome.

“If you’re as serious about this as you seem…then I guess we can have a baby together.” You give him your final answer and he gives you a gentle smile.

“But if we’re going to do this then we have a bunch of things to figure out first. Are we gonna live together and-“ Your sentence is cut off by the feeling of soft lips against your own.

He pulls you into his lap quickly and reaches for the buttons on your shirt, quickly trying to pull it off. He slides his tongue in your mouth and you happily invite him in.

Your shirt is thrown to the corner of the room and your leggings soon follow after.

“You wanna make a baby, don’t you? You can’t talk and make a baby. Well, you shouldn’t be able to at least.”

And boy was he right, Choso currently has you riding his sensitive cock after god knows how long. Your thighs shake in sensitivity and you let out another whimper as he bottoms out inside of you.

“C-Cho, my legs are burning.” You pout and huff as you struggle to continue bouncing on top of him.

Choso ignores your cries for help and hisses as another orgasm is ripped from his body and he stuffs your poor cunt with more of his cum. You throw your head back at the feeling of him fucking it back inside of you.

“ ‘m sorry mama, j-just wanna make sure you get all of it. Let me help you baby.” He sits up against the headboard and takes hold of your hips.

“Fuck!” You scream and grab the headboard when his hips piston upwards and his angry red tip fucks into your sweet spot.

“Shit, shit! Feels so good, so tight and warm.” Choso’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the feeling of your wet, gummy walls bringing him to the brink yet again.

“C-coming! I’m gonna come, Cho!” He holds your hips in place and continues his assault on your poor g-spot.

You can’t control your orgasm and how quickly it hits you. You dig your nails into the skin of his shoulder as your left shaking from overstimulation.

The man below you watches in awe as your body convulses on top of his exhausted one. At this moment, Choso has never seen you look more beautiful.

Your thick lips are red and messy from all the kissing and drooling, his eyes trail down your body, and the way your breasts move up and down with each bounce. His eyes land on where you’re both connected and he can’t help but rub your neglected clit with his thumb.

You shake your head and attempt to swat his hand away, quickly losing that battle when he pulls you down for another messy kiss. You whimper against his lips when he flips both of you over.

He lifts your legs and rests your calves on his shoulder. He slides back into you at a teasingly slow pace and you grip the sheets in pleasure. The dark-haired man lets out a moan at the way your walls continuously suck him in each time.

He plants a small kiss on your ankle before his hips go from slow and steady to hard and fast.

“Oh shit!” You gasp as you grip the sheets, pleasure courses through your body at the feeling of the new angle.

The sound of skin slapping can be heard throughout the room and probably through the walls if you listen close enough.

“I’m so close baby, so fucking close.” He warns, his hips begin to lose their rhythm as his climax builds within him.

“C-cum inside me Cho. I want it so bad please!” You beg, tears build up in your eyes as another orgasm pools in your lower belly.

“Y-yeah baby? Want me to fill you up real good?” He leans down so his forehead is only inches from yours and you nod shyly.

He smirks at your lack of words and presses his lips to yours one last time before overfiowing your insides with his warm speed. You moan into his mouth and drag your nails down his arms in ecstasy as you come one last time.

Your body finally relaxes after one last thrust of his hips.

“You okay princess?” He runs his fingers through his raven locks and you nod with your eyes closed, the need for sleep is growing stronger by the second.

“Thank you for doing this with me, there’s truly nobody else I think I would want a baby with.” You confess, he takes your hand in his and kisses over your knuckles.

“Don’t worry about it, anything I can do to make my best friend a happy lady.”

~~~

“Oh, Dad that’s so cheesy.” Your eight year old daughter rolls her eyes at the story and he shrugs his shoulders.

“It’s what happened! Your mom and I were best friends, she wanted a baby and the stork delivered!You asked me to tell you the story of how you guys were born, and I did.” He huffs and pulls the young girl in his lap, planting small kisses all over her face.

“Dad! Please no more.” She laughs as he continues his assault of kisses on her face.

The sound of tiny feet and screaming can be heard from down the hall, Choso and his mini-me follow the noise and he has to refrain from laughing at the sight.

You’re attempting to put your boys to bed with a bedtime story, but not without acting out the details of course.

“I’ll huff, and I’ll puff, and I’ll blow your house down!” You blow raspberries over their little faces and they break out into a fit of giggles.

“Mommy does a good wolf, right guys?” Your boys nod simultaneously and you smile up at your fiancé.

“Did you know it’s actually because she is one? Why do you think she’s so hairy?” He teases and you hit his shoulder playfully.

“Haha papa, so funny.” He helps you up to your feet and plants a kiss on your lips.

Your three munchkins groan in disgust and you and Choso can’t help but laugh.

“Alright guys it’s time for bed, we’ve got a busy week coming up!” You announce, you tuck the boys in bed and kiss their foreheads.

“Goodnight Mama, goodnight Papa, goodnight Junior!”

Junior is the nickname for your oldest daughter since she’s a carbon copy of her father. The only thing she got from you is her pretty brown skin and her tight coils.

“Goodnight boys, I love you, mama and Papa.” She hugs you both simultaneously and you lean down so she can kiss your faces.

“Goodnight pretty girl, sweet dreams.” You watch as she closes her bedroom door, and cheer quietly at another successful night.

“We’re such awesome parents Cho.” He wraps an arm around your shoulder and cups your cheeks as he kisses you.

“Yeah, we kinda know what we’re doing I guess.” He smiles down at you and pulls you in by your waist.

“And to think we were gonna stop with Junior. How crazy would that have been?” You ask as you reminisce.

Once you learned about your pregnancy, you two decided that it was just going to be a one-and-done situation. Then Choso realized that not only are you an amazing mother, but that you’re an even better significant other.

He proposed to you on the night of her first birthday, and nine months later your boys arrived. He truly wouldn’t want his life to go any other way, he has everything he’s ever wanted and more.

Ari

#jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk x black reader #jjk scenarios #choso scenario #choso smut #choso x y/n #choso x reader #choso x you #choso x female reader #jjk x y/n #jjk imagines #jjk x you

592 notes · View notes

luveline · 13 hours

Note

Hotch request w Jack and new baby!!! Coming back from the hospital and reader is in bed with new baby and Jack while Aaron is in another part of the house (maybe making food in the kitchen) and reader starts crying because she’s in pain and jack is all concerned and sweet and goes to get Aaron??

thank you for requesting, sorry I messed up where everyone was! fem, 1.3k

“He’s gonna stab him!”

You blink from the spot you’d been staring at, pain momentarily forgotten. “What! Where’d you learn that word?” you ask in surprise.

Jack leans back against his big velvet pillow, blue with silver stars, looking as though he’s in the lap of luxury. “At school.”

The cartoon mouse on the TV raises his fencing sword high in the air.

“He’s not stabbing anyone, they’re fencing,” you say, reaching for his hand to hold. “Stabbing… that’s pretty scary. How did that make you feel?”

“Well, I’m not gonna stab anyone,” Jack says.

He’s confused that you’re making a fuss, just old enough to realise you’re poking around for his feelings. You worry lately that you aren’t paying him enough attention because of his new brother, and the word stab isn’t exactly age appropriate.

But maybe that’s what the boys his age are talking about? You frown more, your hand slipping along his arm to curl behind him. You pull him toward you. “Come on, handsome. Cuddle me.”

You’re too sore to move, so Jack has to come to you. He crawls across the couch until his arms can wrap around you and his cheek can rest against your chest. Stab is an apt word for the feeling in your stomach. Jack’s arm squeezes at you and the pain worsens, so you move it up your front and curl your arm around him.

“Is it a bad word?” he asks.

“No, it’s just like hit or slap, I guess. And I know you’re not gonna do any of that to anyone. You’re too gentle.”

“Gentle is a good word.”

“Yeah.” You kiss his forehead, a moment of self indulgence. You love your stepson, and he is oh so kissable. “Oh no, look at the mouse.”

Charlie sleeps in his swing seat, the soft whirring of its constant motion almost as comforting as the sound of his soft breaths. You watch him for a while, Jack climbing up at your side to press his face to your neck, leg on your thigh, slowly pressing against the tenderness that is your abdomen. “Uh, Jack,” you breathe, trying to pick him up, “you’re gonna have to climb off of me, my tummy hurts too much.”

“Sorry,” he says quickly, slipping off of you and onto the couch cushion. His foot kicks out as he rights himself, a jamming of his toes against the pain like a spike.

You take a deep breath. Ouch.

“It’s okay,” you say, groaning softly as the pain thrums, hand on your stomach as though your touch can make it stop, “just a tummy ache. I– I’m okay.”

“You got little tears?” he says, his voice going wobbly. You try to blink away tears and end up with a straggler curving down the slope of your cheek. “I’ll go get dad!”

“Jack, I’m okay,” you say.

Too late. Jack scrambles from the couch and away from you, up the stairs to find his father. You’re not sure what Aaron’s up to, he’d only said, “I’ll be right back,” twenty minutes ago. You’d guessed laundry.

You’re glad Jack’s run upstairs when you realise the pain isn’t going away. It’s not bad, not half as bad as your contractions had been, but the whole labour process has sapped you, and you feel weak as a willow branch in bad weather. You shift heavily onto one leg and cross them, uncross them when the pain spikes again, letting out a weird and breathless whine as it turns to a full blown cramp.

Jack returns with Aaron in tow. His hair is dripping wet, soap suds on his neck and his shirt stuck to his chest. He’s rushed out of the shower to see you.

“What’s wrong?” he asks as he rounds the couch. “Jack told me you’re not feeling well.”

You hold your arms out for a hug. He doesn’t falter, simply does as you want, his hair wringing wet and dripping onto your shoulder as he gathers you in his arms.

You hold onto him like a lifeline. The cramp curls, and tightens, has you seizing up against him.

“What is it?” he asks softly. “Stomach pains again?”

The nurse said it’s your uterus shrinking. Whatever it is, it’s sudden agony. You shudder into Aaron’s shoulder until the pain pangs and fades, leaving your stomach a tense mess. It hurts to move, so you stay clinging to your husband and let him hover over you.

“Are you okay?” Jack asks.

You sniff.

Aaron pulls away to take your face into his hands. He holds you with care, his thumbs under your jaw, index fingers running diagonally under each eye, tips at your brows. Just a stolen few seconds for him to check you over. No tears to be wiped away.

“Still hurting?”

You shake your head, eyebrows pulled down in a bad frown.

“Okay. Alright. Motrin?” he asks.

“No,” you whisper, “can you just stay here?”

Jack says your name.

You peek past Aaron’s body. “Jack, sorry.”

“Are you okay now?”

You grimace, “I’m gonna be fine, it just hurts sometimes and I didn’t have any medicine today. That’s all. Sorry, I scared you.”

“You didn’t scare me,” he denies.

You can’t help smiling, then. “Okay, I didn’t. Thanks for getting dad for me.”

“He’s our hero,” Aaron says. He sits down beside you carefully, his voice quiet and his hand gentle as he holds your thigh. “I’m glad he did.”

Jack climbs into his dad’s lap. Aaron wraps an arm around him, the other at your side, fingers tapping at you.

You rub your forehead. Tip your head back and take a deep breath.

“Jack,” you whisper, breathing out, “I’m sorry if I startled you. It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“It wasn’t scary, I said that already.”

“Oh, you did?” Aaron teases.

“It was okay, I just don’t want you to hurt.”

“Only baby pains,” you say.

For a few minutes, you and your small family sit there in silence. Aaron works a hand behind your back to hug you, Jack snuggles into his chest, and Charlie stirs in his swing seat. The quiet calms him, and he goes back to his soft snoring seconds later.

“I’m sorry about your shower,” you whisper.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry about my baby,” Aaron whispers back, drawing circles into your lower back, “he didn’t mean to chew you up.”

“Ugh, I know.”

Jack raises his nose. “What? Chew? Do babies bite?”

“It’s an expression, babe.”

“Oh.” He looks at his baby brother with suspicion anyways. “He doesn’t even have teeth?”

“Buddy, it’s just a joke,” Aaron says, laughing as Jack slips out of his lap to go and look at Charlie in the seat.

“Maybe he did have teeth,” you say.

Aaron ushers you toward him, rests his cheek on your forehead. “It’ll feel better soon. You need to rest, that’s all.”

“Your hair is so wet.”

“I was in the shower.”

“Sorry…”

“Don’t be,” he says. “Don’t be.”

You reach up to tousle his wet hair. “Miss showering with you.”

“We showered last night.”

“No, I stood there and you helped me wash my back, that’s not the same.”

“Well, I enjoyed it.”

“I bet you did.”

Your fondness attracts many, many kisses, his nose nuzzling your cheek. You settle under the weight of him and watch Jack where he frowns at Charlie, big brown eyes squinted, waiting for a show of teeth that won’t happen. Aaron brings a hand to your tense stomach, waiting for you to lean back before he begins massaging the tensed muscle there with a slowness that borders unmoving.

“Tell me if it hurts too much,” he says.

“You can go finish your shower.”

“I was finished. M’gonna start pressing in, okay?”

You wince as Aaron begins, but slowly, slowly, the tenseness from your cramp softens. It still hurts, but he makes it manageable. Jack delivered your rescuer, and your rescuer loves a soft touch.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

375 notes · View notes

fanaticsnail · 1 month

Text

It's not what it looks like!

Masterlist Here

Word Count: 2,800+

Synopsis: The ship has taken on a few more guests, the overcrowded Straw-Hat vessel now struggling to accommodate the number. Offering your room to the prisoner, Caesar Clown, you returned to find a sight you were ill-prepared to meet. Caesar had found your secret, and had them over his nose and mouth while chasing his high into his gloved fist.

Warnings: Caesar Clown x f!reader, MDNI, NSFW, 18+, smut, panty sniffing, finger sucking, masturbating, praise kink, exhibitionism, dirty talk, prisoner x captor, Straw-Hat reader, Caesar is a yandere creep - but we love him like that, lingerie kink, you like to dress up beneath your clothes for yourself.

Notes: a gift for @imveryyellow who said they recently ran out of Caesar content. I have been wanting to write him for a while, and this was exactly the opportunity I needed to take him to a solo fic. I hope you like your present!

Legs hanging limply over the edge of the much smaller bed frame, Caesar whimpered and panted into the shroud of lace covering his lips and nose. Eyes scrunched tightly shut, chains rattled together in a sinful shuffle over his thighs. Larger, white coat removed, his yellow jumpsuit was as far down his arms as he could stretch it, his feet and legs exposed while the fabric danced over his body like a flag waving in surrender.

Hands circling the girth of his cock, he pumped it maniacally in his gloved hands. Each rough motion was complemented by a deep inhale of the clean pair of lace panties covering his nose and mouth. The scent of floral fabric softener, clean eucalyptus detergent, and the scent of your lingering perfume from your wrists flooded his senses as he desperately pistoned his cock in his leather gloves.

He was close, his breaths coming out in rough and desperate pants. Inhaling deeply, his tongue lulled out and gently dampened the crotch of your panties, pleading for just a taste of what they shroud on the regular. His cock bobbed, pearlescent precum rolling down the clothed thumb of his right hand while his left rose to his face. His middle and unity finger collected the fabric and thrust it into his parted lips, mouthing and fucking his gloved fingers with his lips.

“ Hha-h, fuck. Just a little more, nghh-,” he whimpered, crying into the fabric and muffling his moans. A soft fall of pathetic tears fled from the corners of his eyes as his hips bucked up into his hands. He knew he didn’t have much longer until one of the other straw-hats would come and get him, but he needed this release. He was so pent up from the capture, so needy and desperate to cum it almost hurt.

Just as he nearly hit the pinnacle of his release, the handle of the door clicked and began to creak wide. Caesar’s eyes widened, having no time to hook the holes of his jumpsuit back over his body, nor discard the panties from covering his face.

“Caesar, looks like you’ve got me today! I hope you’re ready to get out to the mess hall for some break- Ah-!” you gasped, your eyes meeting the golden hue of his panicked orbs. Shock wrote itself over your features, leaning against the door and clicking it shut hastily with your ass. “What the fuck are you-? Are those my panties!?”

The mercy of the straw-hats, the softness after the carnage that placed him on their vessel and in their hands. That was who you were. The ship’s botanist, specializing in different types of plants and their uses for medicinal and weaponizing purposes. Usopp, Sanji and you all worked quite well together, the surgeon of death also enjoying your informative knowledge regarding uses of leaves, saps, and bark as balm for wounds.

As soon as Caesar’s eyes initially found yours, he was welcomed to a kindness that was foreign for a man such as him. He was smitten, willing to do just about anything to find himself in your good graces. At the offer of your room to house him, willing to bunk with Robin in Nami’s quarters: who gave up her own room to house Law, Caesar’s heart was swollen and as engorged as his large cock pulsating in his hand.

This was the first night he had slept in your room, swearing to himself that he wouldn’t peruse the drawers and cabinets for your personal effects. The room smelled as sweet as you did, plants and dried flowers pressed within pages of your extensive collection of journals.

Expecting to find more of your books and findings within your desk, he was shocked to spy an array of clean lingerie. Lightning struck his heart as his eyes widened, the innocent image of you within his mind shattering and replaced by a sexual lust he had no business in rising. The next few steps were made in haste: springing himself from his clothes and viciously fisting the rising bulge in his pants while inhaling the sweet fragrance of a random pair of your collection of panties.

“I-I-I can explain-!” he desperately attempted to relay, spitting the lace from his lips and scrambling to find the words he needed to sate your wrath, “-It’s not what it looks like! I swear! I wasn’t-.”

“-Masturbating with my lingerie in your mouth?!” you whisper in a curt hiss, flicking the lock on your door behind you and stomping over to your desk, “You had to pick that pair?” Your whine caught him off guard, lips pouting as you adjusted your collection and refolded the mess he made by hastily grabbing the lace, “I was going to wear those today, damn it.”

Caesar’s eyes widened, his jaw shuddering, and throat gulping back a collection of saliva behind his lips.

“You’re not upset that I’m-,” he begins, halted by your hissed whisper to cut him off.

“-Touching your cock? No, it’s yours. It’s a part of you,” you offer him quickly over your shoulder, ignoring him as you shut the drawer in your desk, “It’s natural. I get it, truly. We’re all pent up after that battle, and thinking about what’s likely waiting for us in Dressrosa is only making it worse.” Turning to face the ten foot giant on your bed, you cross your arms and scowl at him.

“What I am angry about is the fact that you were slobbering all over my panties while doing it. Those don’t belong to you. They’re mine,” you curl up your lip in a grimace, eyes falling to where your lacey pair of bottoms were pooled on the floor. Rolling your head back over your shoulders, you huff out an exhale of frustration, “I don’t get many luxuries while sailing with my crew. My collection of lingerie is one of my few interests that are explicitly mine. I don’t share them, that’s why they’re in my desk and not in my bedside table.”

Caesar slunk back against your mattress, wanting to become one with the pillow and duvet. At this turn in conversation, he didn’t know if he should feel validated in pleasuring himself, or ashamed at the fact he was using your panties as a channel for his obsession. Looking down to your toes tapping on the wooden floor, arms crossed over your chest, and brow raised at his slinking position, Caesar couldn’t help the twitch in his cock.

He was so close to release, he could barely contain it. The way you scowled at him made his desire worsen. His cock needed it, his balls sucked into his abdomen and swelling the veins engorging his shaft, prompting his eyes to round and plead at you.

Truthfully, you had no idea what you expected when you offered the prisoner your room. Perhaps someone else should’ve given him theirs, likely Franky. Considering the ship had no brig, you had nowhere to place him. You knew he needed at least some autonomy, truly not wanting to see the scientist be target practice for Zoro’s throwing knife skills anymore. In honesty, you both pitied him and found him attractive. Using his knowledge and skills with elixirs and potions to craft and chanel his genius had you interested, but the fact he was so willing to listen to you and follow your instructions like a giant puppy had you smitten.

Eyes traveling down to his bobbing cock, glistening with the first pearls of his sticky release on your bed had a possessive wave overcome you.

“Well, don’t stop on my account,” you offered him with a smirk, leaning your hips back on your desk and nodding towards his cock. Caesar felt his heart palpitate, expanding in his chest and flooding his cheeks with a rosy blush.

“Y-You-... You want-... I can-...?” he stuttered and fell over his words, the jumpsuit and shackles jingling as he hastily covered his cock, “You want-... Me to finish?”

“Do you want to finish?” you giggled at him, floating your gaze over his body before peering into his soul through his widened eyes, “Or do you want to be all rigid and frustrated at the breakfast table?” He choked on his breath, sputtering as he hastily moved to sit up on your bed.

“I can’t with you watching me like that!” he exclaimed, his brows furrowing and scrambling his thoughts, “It’s private.”

“My, my. How the tables have turned,” you chuckle, stepping forward towards the bed. “Need I remind you,” you give him a shove on the shoulders, “You’re in my quarters,” you move your head to his forehead, pushing him back so he lies flat on your pillows, “And in my bed.” Reaching down, you collect your damp pair of saliva-coated panties and place them on his chest, “And have been using my panties in your mouth to stifle your cute little moans. Now, go on. Finish.”

Reaching forward, you collect his right hand and draw it beneath the shroud of his jumpsuit, wrapping it around his cock without touching it.

“I-I-I can’t,” he whimpered, his cock betraying him as his hips automatically bucked up into his fist at the first form of contact. He searched your face, his eyes begging and pleading with you to not watch him while he does this.

“Urgh, Caesar,” you roll your eyes, stepping away from his hands and hovering over his face. Gently flicking your index finger over his dewy cheek, you hum down at him with your eyes half-lidded, “We both know you can, you want to, and you need to. Just do it already so I can go to breakfast.” You purr down at him.

He gulps back a whine at your orders, feeling humiliated at how close you were to him while being ordered to complete his shame to its conclusion. He looked down at the panties on his chest and back up into your eyes, his lips quivering and begging.

“I-... Do you think…?” he stuttered, darting his rounded eyes between yours, “Can you…?” His eyes flickered down to your panties on his chest, down to your waist, and back up to your eyes once more. “...Can you put them in my mouth again?”

“Absolutely not,” you giggle at him, gently caressing his cheek with mischief twinkling in your eyes. “Those are mine. I’ve only put them on your chest to serve as a reminder as to why I’m pissed off at you in the first place. You’re too cute to stay angry at, Clown. Gotta keep them where I can see them, while not stifling those little sounds I know you make.”

“Nghhm-!” Caesar groaned as he began pumping his cock at your praise. He kept eye contact with you, his shame evident in each slow thrust. He pleaded, begged and whined for you to break away your attention so he could focus on meeting his bliss. He had a thought that floated over his eyes that he quickly stifled away in a bid to not catch your focus.

“What was that, Clown? What just floated into that intelligent, pretty head of yours, hm?” you asked him, gently cooing at him while he rocked his body into his cock. He whined, trying not to cum immediately at more of your praise.

Looking down at your body once more, he gulped back his nerves and spat out his confession.

“Please sit on my face,” he hurriedly cried out for you, “Sit on my face, grab my horns, and let me taste the panties you have on. I need you to, please. Please sit on me.”

A laugh fled from your lips as you considered his request. Catching your breath, you offered him a soft purred, “But if I sit on your face, I'd miss the show-.”

“-Face my chest and hold onto my horns behind you. Let me feel you, please. I need you,” he whispered, gently using your name to further emphasize his words. You shook your head at him, slowly reaching beneath your larger shirt and hooking your pants down your thighs to pool at the floor. The larger shirt you were wearing was girdled at the smallest point of your waist, the hem falling just above the middle of your thighs.

Hooking your panties over your thumbs, you step out of your pants and gently draw your used panties up to his face.

“I'm not going to sit on your face, Caesar,” you wrap the crotch of your underwear over your fingers and raise it to his lips, “But I will let you suck on this pair while I watch you fuck yourself. It's the least I can do.”

Pressing your fingers to his lips, Caesar moaned and opened his mouth to welcome your digits in. Gently rocking your fingers on his tongue, the larger clown desperately sucked around the damp pair of lingerie you were grinding over his palate.

Whining and keening, he eagerly sucked the essence of your honeyed slick from the pair. His cock desperately twitched and his motions picked up. The chains rattled and his jumpsuit flopped with each rustling motion. You giggled at his eagerness, clenching your thighs together and watching in earnest as he began to unravel himself.

“You gonna cum, big boy? Gonna make a mess?” you pout at him, catching his eyes as his movements pick up. Circling his tip, he used shallow thrusts up to keep from spilling over completely. “C'mon, baby. Let me see. Cum for me. Put on a little show for me. Make a mess in my bed and let me see you cum.”

“Mmmmph-! 'Umming-!” he muffled around your fingers, tears of joy slipping from his eyes as he chased his high. Feeling his abdomen snap, hot spurts of his release shot up and painted his yellow jumpsuit and chest with wave after wave of uncoiling ropes. Sticky ribbons of his ecstasy painted his body, prompting you to empathetically moan at the display.

He rutt against his body, bucking his hips in languid thrusts as he rode through his high. Be felt humiliated, overjoyed, supported, and chastised by your attention while he completed his moment in solitude.

Pulling your panties from his lips, you curtly rose your hand up and slapped him across the cheek with the heel of your palm. He squealed out a soft scream in horror, more shocked as you met him with a smile.

“That was for taking my panties without my permission,” you nodded sternly at him, stooping down to be at eye level. Parting your lips, you hastily collect his beneath yours and kiss him earnestly. Pulling away with a humming pop, you gaze up through your eyelashes at him, “And that was for using your listening ears and putting on a little performance for me.”

You stroll over to your desk and search through your assortment of lingerie before settling on a fresh pair. Undressing the rest of the way, you unclasped your corsetted bralette and began to assemble a more scandalous assortment of lingerie over your body. Fishnets, cut outs, garters, girdles, and body chains: items that nobody would even know was beneath your flowy shirts and tanned pants, were put casually over your skin. Completing the look with a strappy thong, you turn to Caesar and give him a soft wink.

“Clean yourself up, Clown,” you giggle at him, watching as his jaw fell slack and eyes glazed over at your body. “I want breakfast, and it's my job to look after you today-.”

“-Do you always wear something like that beneath your baggy clothes?” he whined in a loud moan, hastily using the two pairs of panties you left on him to clean himself with. You nod in glee, your smile warm in contrast to your scandalous assortment of clothes.

“Yes. I like to feel pretty while I work,” you shrug, looking down at the arrangement and giving it a final nod, “Now hurry up. I'm hungry.”

Caesar emitted a shuddering moan as he cleaned and redressed himself, stealing glances at you as you shrouded yourself in a fresh shirt and pair of pants. He gulped back his nerves once more, gently offering a soft question out like a puppy returning a ball thrown by their owner and placing it timidly at their feet.

“Do you think I could convince you to ride my face later?” he asked you, peering at you over your shoulder. You laugh wholeheartedly at the question, finally both dressed, and sauntering over to Caesar Clown’s looming form. Reaching for his hand, you gave him a gentle squeeze while darting your eyes down at the shackles.

“The thong I'm wearing…” you nod down to your pants, Caesar knowing exactly what was under them and visualizing it while you spoke, “...is crotchless. Yes, I will ride your face in it later, thank you for asking so nicely. Again, we're all a little pent up, and I think you're quite sweet beneath all that insanity.”

Caesar’s cock, regardless as to the earlier release, remained half-hard for the duration of the day. Each time he gawked at you, he remembered the assortment of lingerie hiding beneath and eyes blackened at the promise of what was to come. He was going to smile up at you, eagerly lap at your cunt with a smile on his face, while you keened and whined, gripping his horns and chasing your bliss on his lengthy tongue and pointed nose.

He could hardly wait.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @sordidmusings @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane

#one piece #x reader #one piece smut #x f!reader #caesar clown #op caesar #caesar x reader #op ceasar x reader #moots mooting #one piece x reader #the one piece oc discord server is to blame for this

265 notes · View notes

satoruhour · 1 year

Note

While I know Suguru is the og girldad, there’s something so endearing about Satoru with a daughter.

First time she’s in his arms and it’s like somebody put the sun into his palms. She has his white hair and six eyes but in shape of your facial features, his loud and boisterous personality and his sweet tooth, and there’s not a thing on this planet he cherishes more than her. Spoils her, wants to be her “superhero” dad children look up to, you best believe everything she draws for him is kept secure in a folder in his room. He never lets anyone treat her as inferior to boys (knowing the misogyny in jjk universe), and both of them love you to piecessssss🥹

Like I just randomly imagine him baking a cake with his little daughter for your birthday and MY HEARTHNSJ😭

WHEN US MEANS MORE THAN ME & U

a/n: literal tears. bye. i love dad gojo sm. wrote this through tears while listening to this. tagging @crysugu @jabamin @hyomagiri @seeingivy ✶

wc: 3k plus?? man idfk cant see thru my tears

✶ dad!gojo . . .

. . . who ages so well the more he grows older. if you think he looks good at 28, just wait until he’s 34, or 40. although he still has a baby face, his features have matured way more, now, crinkle lines on his forehead and around his lips that accentuate his dimples even more. he just looked… so damn good, truly keeping his physique well into his thirties, except you wouldn’t have known if his hair is turning grey, though, since it’s already white, but you can tell he’s happy when his body hair is not just white upon white.

. . . who has the palest skin, so when he starts to grow a noticeable moustache and goatee he shows you the short strands excitedly, pointing to the various parts of his face with an excited finger and a beaming smile. he annoys you by rubbing his chin and cupid’s bow along your skin in the morning or when he returns home — it’s a little funny seeing you jump in surprise.

. . . who only lets you dictate whether he should keep the facial hair and when you hesitate even one moment (“nope! let’s shave it!”) you’re pulled into the bathroom and handed a shaver and shaving cream. he hums when the blade glides along his skin, knowing you were too afraid to be too rough. gojo liked the tenderness of these moments, you perched upon his lap and bottom lip caught in between your lips as you focused on his chin and cupid’s bow. the grip on your waist is firm, loving the way your thighs close around his own so snugly.

“okay — last one,” you voice out softly, eyes squinting because it was so difficult trying to see white hair from skin. gojo simply giggles at your struggle and you tsk, telling to stop moving! before you’re yelping and the shaver leaves your hand, the soft, plump lips of satoru moving against yours. behind you, there’s a plop! of water, and gojo just laughs when he sees the shaver lodged into the toilet. “ah. well, let’s use yours.” and your mouth twists, “no! i use that to shave…” you trail off and you swear you can hear gojo’s grin and the insult of pervert on your lips. “well! all the more to use it!” ✶

. . . whose vision from the start is slowly turning true. the jujutsu world is in the good hands of his students that he’s able to spend time with you and the (unborn) baby more. he smiles more freely now that he works less missions, but still as cheeky and playful as ever, squishing your cheeks and moving them around as he plants kisses on them. he also shows his feelings more, not afraid to bury his face in your neck and ask for head rubs or tell you he might be thinking about suguru a little too much; the first time satoru put his head to your swelling belly and heard the kid kick he teared up right away, baby talking to the baby bump like the sap he is.

. . . who at first hated his family name because it was only ever associated with his powerful father and then him, with both of his renowned techniques, how it pointed straight to him being the strongest and a cog in the machine to overwork. but now, gojo rather likes it, referring to you as “my wife” and “mrs. gojo” more times than necessary. you gave him his surname meaning by saying your vows and slipping his (rather expensive) ring on your fourth finger. you gave the family name a sense of warmth and homeliness whenever he’d come home to you humming a tune from high school and cooking up some dinner. you gave ‘gojo’ a worth that means more than just the six eyes and limitless — that it’d mean that gojo was the penthouse in some far off tokyo district coupled with you and the baby growing in you.

. . . who when first handed his baby girl, cried full on tears in the hospital, both arms wrapped so snugly around his baby because he was afraid he was going to hurt her or drop her in some way. gojo is generally pretty large in stature that he makes your baby girl look so small that it’s endearing. your cheeks hurt from smiling so much at them, not having the energy to capture the moment since you just quite literally delivered. but satoru much rather have his girls in the picture, handing the baby back to you before he reveals his phone to snap a picture.

“w-would ya look at her?” satoru coos, rocking and bouncing his body gently to ease your baby back into slumber. there’s an ugly show of a mess on his face — snot falling everywhere and tear stains lining his cheeks. but there’s one final thing that has gojo choking up all over again; the baby is curious and feels up his hand, your husband letting a finger out before she curls her small fist around his finger. “oh my god.” it’s cute seeing gojo so distraught as tears spring to his eyes again and he can’t even form words. it makes the baby laugh and he sobers up a little, sniffing and raising a brow. “love seeing your papa cry, huh?” and the baby sputters again and giggles and satoru swears he ascends to heaven and mutters a promise more to himself than your darling girl. “i’ll protect that little smile for as long as i live, okay?” ✶

. . . who is entirely enamoured with his baby girl, carrying her a little too much when she should be in the crib, singing her little songs or pointing out the colours of the sky in the nursery. you watch the scenes like a proud wife and mother, still not used to the beautiful scenes and childlike decorations of the room — only because satoru would not let you in after learning why ellie from up couldn’t conceive even if the paint now was safe. but you don’t have the heart to turn away your husband when this is what you get out of it, reminiscent of when gojo had playfully done to tsumiki and megumi before (“the scenery is beautiful today, gojo-san!” vs. “i already know what colours are, dumbass.”).

. . . who only asks you to rest while he takes on most of the diaper-changing and feeding duties. you weren’t even that old to begin with, but it seemed like just like you were pregnant, satoru found it offensive that you’d think of even lifting a finger. you let him, for a while, until you find out he’s putting on the diaper wrongly and putting a little too much formula in the bottle, but you simply pat his cheek when he tears again. by god, he doesn’t want to mess this up, he doesn’t want to mess you up, he doesn’t want to mess her up, but you show him with your hands wrapped around his. one, two, three, and a half cups into the bottle; wrap around her right, then her left and secure it with the provided adhesive.

“satoru, baby,” you sigh, going on your tippy toes to kiss away the tears spilling from his cheeks, “you’re not a bad dad because you didn’t know how to make her food or change her diaper.” your fingers are as light as dewdrops, always in awe of his flawless skin and looks, and now, in awe of his consideration and love of your baby girl. “but—” you put up a finger, “no buts— remember? we promised each other not to be sorry if we can’t help it. you are human, my love.” gojo heaves a shaky sigh and swallows away the sobs, nodding against your hand as he covers it and leans into your touch. “i am human,” and a little later after quelling the baby’s cries in bed, “thank you.” ✶

. . . who, when she’s old enough, takes her on flying mishaps, hands tucked under her arm pits to guide her through the house in exaggerated flight. it feels like dad is superman, the sofa, high chair, even mama is all too far away from her and she’s onto her next exciting adventure. the bubbly giggles from your darling girl is the only sound that matters to satoru, alongside your laughter as you watch the two in play while dinner simmer besides you. higher! higher! she asks when she can speak and he does just that with his imposing height, but gojo’s tallness never intimidates his baby girl; no, not when gojo satoru is her hero and you, her solace.

. . . who gives nothing but a multitude of praises when his girl is leaning more into the artistic side, asking for colour pencils and crayons and paint to explore her creativity that with each drawing she shows him, he gasps, falls to the floor, and cries out how it should belong in a museum! gojo is doing the most — hands on his chin and pointing to various parts of the drawing and discussing the “meaning” behind it when all your girl wanted to do was draw the three of you as a happy family. he’s buying the frame, making a plaque for the artwork to be hung; when he’s making copies of the artwork to keep in a folder, he’s crying his eyes out (“she just wanted to draw us, us! as a family!” you giggle, “yes, satoru, that’s what we are.”)

“girlssss! i’m home!” satoru grins when your baby runs up to him, swooping her up before she can crash into his legs and twirls her around. “papa! look at what i drew today!” you’re emerging after cleaning up her very passionate creative space after she swore on finishing it before your husband came back, smiling when she bounces on her heels. “woooow!” he clutches his heart, one knee and then the other before he croaks out “ooouhhhh! why isn’t this masterpiece in a museum yet?! it’s a crime!” if you were in high school, the gojo then would definitely barf at how cheesy he was being at the moment, “very compelling use of colour, here, miss gojo. hmm, yes, yes, i see how you used multiple colours for the sun — very effective in showing the many colours of the sunset!” you’re cheesing so hard at the display because he does this every. time. and it never fails to make her yell in excitement, running over to you as she gives you a big fat kiss on your cheeks, “mama helped me!” a raise of the eyebrow before you finally get your well-awaited kiss to your lips, “i’m sure she did, honey.” ✩

. . .who teaches her the basic things, not shying away from the harsh realities of the world and jujutsu society. he tells her about boys who make fun of girls and think it’s acceptable, or teachers that would only like the strong boys to carry the chairs to the centre of the classroom. he thinks that if he’s going to do this parenting shit, he’s going to do it right, not the way his parents did it, not the way the higher-ups “looked” over young sorcerers. he covers self-defense, verbal comebacks as well as a rejected raise of her hand to threaten a punch (you were the one to stop him from teaching her that — you could only thank it wasn’t a middle finger instead), praising and rewarding her with candy and blown raspberries into her skin.

. . . who teaches her mama is as important as he is, but your darling girl already knows the value of her mother who holds her tight when she has a nightmare, or the airplane on mama’s airline that always holds delicious food. she knows how much her mother loves her when you’re sharing a smile with her at the dinner table as satoru chokes again on his food, and when you pat her to sleep while telling the story of how you and gojo met. that’s why she was the one to suggest that they both bake you a cake for your birthday — with her as the head chef and satoru as her sous chef.

“it has to be perfect, papa! no more burning the pancakes in the morning or putting too much sugar.” gojo stifles a laugh at that; it seems that his baby girl had heard the many trivial mishaps that had happened in the kitchen, snapping out of his daze when his daughter lands a light slap on his cheek. “pay attention!” satoru fully laughs now, okay, okay! he says and they read through the recipe together — a family recipe passed down to you — and they try their best. the flour is a little messy, the sugar is a tad too much and satoru thinks he may have preheated the oven too high a heat, but then there’s the familiar smell of the vanilla extract and the rise of the cake in the tin. your baby cheers, collapsing into gojo’s arms in front of the oven and together on the floor, they watch the cake ascend.

“careful, baby, it’s hot.” gojo brings her away when the cake is finally done, dramatically smelling and letting out a sigh at it, “it smells really good, ain’t it?” she purses her lips and points to herself, “all due to me!” and gojo hums in agreement. he’s content to let his baby girl take all the credit when she’s looking as adorable like that, finding that her confidence is looking more and more like his while your kindness shows when she’s propped up on the kitchen island and saying, “but papa was the one who helped me pour everything! so maybe it’s because of both me and papa.”

the “thank you” that satoru whispers into his girl’s temple is a whisper, and the house falls into a comfortable, more calm atmosphere as they work on the icing together. it’s clear that all her excitement has caught up to her and she’s now feeling a little sleepy in between, only shooting up when gojo’s announced the icing’s all mixed properly. “happy . . birthday . . mama,” she draws out in the air with satoru’s finger clutched between her fist, a clear layout in her young mind that he had no choice but to listen (he would always listen), lathering first the white base icing before the pressuring job comes and his darling girl is looking at him with narrowed eyes, “don’t mess it up, papa!”

“i won’t—” and before gojo can start on the lettering, you’re depositing the house keys into the bowl your husband gifted you in high school, letting out a chuckle at the scene before you: the sorcerer’s face caked in white, vanilla extract and broken egg shells on the island and in the middle of it, your husband and your daughter looking like deer caught in headlights.

“hi, mama,” they say in unison and your grin only widens. you could hardly be mad when this doesn’t happen often, already knowing the occasion, but they seemed to be a little bummed out from being found out so you only hope your hug can make it up. your baby girl goes first: she squeals when she’s scooped into your arms, smile so bright it could mirror any angel in heaven. while she still pouts, she’s more than happy to wish you a happy birthday. “thank you, baby. was baking with papa fun?”

she nods so hard her whole body moves in your arms, “papa is very bad at measuring stuff, though.”

you burst out laughing while your husband falls into a greater pout than your daughter did, brushing off the flour from his arms and taking the both of you into his embrace, “she’s so mean to me, sweets.”

“i’m not, just telling the truth. mama, i was the head chef, so i get to say what he’s bad at.” gojo’s pout worsens and you coo, pulling him closer.

“yes, but daddy did help with everything, didn’t he?” you whisper, brushing away the strands that fall over her face. you’ve never really taken the time to take in everything: her white hair, those blue eyes that are a little darker, the lines at the side of her smile that look like yours. instinctively, your forehead rests against hers and upon feeling her nod, you think that this is all you need. “thank you, darling.” and your girl grins again when she feels your peck on her forehead. gojo only can look at his girls with a content smile, pout stretching into his face while his hand never stops caressing your back. “can daddy have a kiss too?”

that night when she’s put to sleep after much protest (you both give in and end up watching your favourite movie together as a present), you’re drawing circles on gojo’s bare chest which also has grown a little bit of hair. his lips upon your hair feels like a divine blessing; he speaks.

“happy birthday again, baby,” a kiss, “only if you came home a liiittle later, though.”

you laugh softly, “actually, i sort of heard your shenanigans when i was standing outside the front door.” satoru jerks from the comfortable position, prompting your head to hit the headboard in a loud ‘thud’.

“oops sorry, baby— but what?!”

you shake your head, roll your eyes, pull him back to tuck yourself under his chin, “you’re so damn dramatic. i just didn’t want to interrupt the both of you. you mean a lot to her, you know.”

gojo sighs, moving away a bit for your head to tilt up and his heart still pulls and tugs like so many years ago. if he recalls correctly, it’s just exactly like this that you shared your first kiss together, the line between friends and lovers blurring so much that all it took was your eyes staring into his to make him notice he never had infinity on around you.

“you made me forget what i was gonna say,” satoru mumbles, a laugh cutting through his features when you smile sheepishly. he copies your outburst, “you’re so damn beautiful.”

“and you mean a lot to her, too. we mean a lot to her — it’s the least we can do when you’ve brought such a beautiful baby into the world,” gojo mutters — it’s late and he’s slurring his words from the fatigue. his eyes glow under the night light and he holds on to you just a little tighter, “to give her a normal life.”

his smile doesn’t quite reach his eyes, and there’s the sheen of his tears again. “we will succeed, don’t you worry.” you silence his doubts with a kiss, “you’re doing a great job of a father, ‘toru. i will keep reminding you until my voice turns hoarse and i can’t speak.”

normally, he’d tease you but all it does is make the tears full spill over; but they’re happy this time. satoru only lets you catch his lips in a deep kiss, quietening his sobs as your hands fumble at his undercut and his face. you can hear the faint “thank you”’s he mumbles and you’re also close to crying, pulling away to admire him — god, you loved him so much you feel like you could collapse. he loved you so much he would do it all over again if it meant having you in every life.

“thank you for having me. thank you for loving me, baby,” satoru whispers, wiping at your tears as did you and he laughs, “dunno why we’re cryin’. s’pposed to be a happy moment.”

you huff (of course, he’d say something funny now), but that’s just one of many things you love about him. all you do is hold him closer that night and mutter a prayer — to virgin, to buddha, to anyone who would listen.

it might get difficult along the way: one of you may need to take on more missions, your baby will be growing up and heading to school. there will be difficult talks, puberty, tantrums, none of you were truly ready. and yet, despite it all, you’d still have your satoru, the one who made tsumiki and megumi into what they are today. despite it all, you’d still have each other and your darling girl, your family of gojo’s whose definition changed from suffocating to belonging. despite it all, as long as galaxies are created and supernovas happening and the planets revolve around the sun, it’d take light years for your love to diminish even one speck.

your love for each other could surpass the cosmos — that in itself is enough.

part two

#asks #anon #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk gojo x reader #gojo fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojou satoru x reader #gojou x reader

1K notes · View notes

yandere-daydreams · 1 year

Text

Title: Opening Night.

Pairing: Yandere!Lyney x Reader (Genshin Impact).

Word Count: 1.2k.

TW: Sex Doll AU, Non-Con, AFAB!Reader, Heavy Dissociation, Obsessive Behavior, Slight Manipulation, and Implied Stalking.

Distantly, you could remember how excited you’d been to be invited to the showing.

You’d opened the invitation at your desk, surrounded by a small group of your more friendly coworkers who’d go on to clap and cheer and promise a round of after-hour drinks after you finished reading out the snippet of text scrolled across the cream-colored cardstock. You weren’t special - a small legion of journalists would be invited to write puff-pieces on all the new models and decide which androids were going to be in fashion next season - but you’d loved Teyvat as long as you could remember, spent more of your free time than you cared to admit doing research on robots you’d never be able to afford, not on a salary like yours. It wasn’t a world-changing, earth-shaking accomplishment, but it made you happy. It was something you wanted, and it was something you’d finally gotten your hands on after years of waiting.

You couldn’t remember when your excitement had started to wane. You were still wide-eyed and slack-jawed when you stepped into the venue, an old opera house restored and decorated to better suit the Fontaine Collection’s high-luxury theming. You hadn’t been able to bite back your smile as you kissed the back of a refitted Focalors’ hand (or, Lady Furina’s hand, as she told you to call her in a tone you could only compare to that of a newly-crowned monarch still drinking in her subjects’ attention), and watched Clorinde’s fencing demonstration with the sort of rapt attention most people would save for famous idols and athletes. Even after you lost your photographer in the crowd, your heart skipped a beat as Neuvillette (the brooding, stoic type of this line, you were sure to note when you next found a minute to yourself) offered you a flute of champagne that you readily accepted, and when a roaming Lyney-droid pulled you to the side and offered to show you magic trick with an irresistible glint in his eye, you didn’t think twice before looping your arm through his and letting him guide you to an all-but abandoned backstage area. You thought you might get something exclusive, something to separate you from the crowd of influencers and tabloids who weren’t afraid to promise features that the approachable beta models only half-confirmed. You thought you’d be safe with a premium-grade android hanging off your arm.

Maybe your excitement didn’t wane at all. It’d been there one moment, then gone the next, replaced with a dark coil of dread and some kind of dizzying, vision-blurring nausea. The sharp corner of the vanity bit harshly into the backs of your thighs, the mirror pressed into your back slowly sapping the warmth from your skin and replacing it with something else, a numbing chill you couldn’t seem to shake. Your clothes had been torn to shreds, left to scatter across the dressing room floor, but Lyney was still fully dressed, fully composed; the palest blush painted across his cheeks and his lips ever so slightly parted but all other signs of arousal, of embarrassment absent. You made a mental note to work that into your article. The new models seem to have a shared sense of unwavering confidence– a stark contrast from their more reserved predecessors from Mondstadt and Sumeru. Maybe you’d be able to get a quote from their handlers, if you ever made it back to the show floor.

You’d have to give Lyney his own section, titled something your boss would have to talk to HR about: Teyvat's New Magician is Good With More Than His Cards. You could only feel half of what he was doing to you, shock dulling your already limited senses, but the fingers drawing loose patterns in your clit was near-overwhelming, the feeling of his synthetic cock splitting you open inescapable, unrelenting. He didn’t need to breathe, to worry about things like soreness or bruising or cramps, to do anything but thrust into you at a pace so erratic, so unyielding that it left little room for you to do anything but lie there and take it. His hips were pushed flat against yours, his tip grinding against something soft and unprotected inside of you and drawing out a ragged gasp, a cracked moan. Out of reflex, your hands shot to his shoulders, nails digging into whatever you could reach, and he let out an airy laugh, leaning closer and encouraging you to hold him tighter, to see if you could tear through the faux-skin Teyvat so often advertised as ‘invincible’. That would make headlines, even if it wasn’t likely to cast you in the best light.

His free hand drifted from your hip to your side to your cheek, his knuckles brushing underneath your chin before he cupped your cheek and pulled you into a deep, lingering kiss. His saliva was flavored, though you couldn’t say what it was supposed to taste like. Cotten candy, maybe – so cloying and sugary, all specifics were lost to the sweetness. It suited him. If you’d been able to use your hands, you would’ve applauded his developers for their attention to detail.

When he pulled back, he was smiling. There was another kiss to the corner of your mouth, then another to the corner of your jaw. Finally, he settled against your throat – his grin so broad, you could feel his perfect teeth resting against your jugular as he spoke. “They told me I’d be able to find a master tonight. The others aren’t ready yet, but I am. They worked the hardest on me.” He was bragging, transparently and unabashedly. In any other situation, you might’ve thought he was trying to impress you. “I knew it had to be you the moment our eyes met. So cute, so easily impressed – I knew you just had to be mine.”

He seemed to perk up, to catch on something. He pressed the pad of his thumb into your clit, and your entire body jolted. “No, no, that’s not right,” he went on, shaking his head. “I’m supposed to be yours.I keep getting that mixed up.”

Faulty programming? It’d be a scandal if it got out, and moreover, it’d be a massive payout if Teyvat decided they preferred to handle things behind closed doors. You bet they’d done it before. Maybe you’d look into that, later on.

Your back arched violently, another pitchy whine bubbling up from some forgotten cavity of your chest. As if in response, he inhaled sharply, buckling against you in the throes of simulated pleasure. His pace sped up, his teeth latching onto the curve of your neck, but any pain it might’ve caused was lost on you, blurred and distorted by the thick rope of tension pulling taut and snapping in the pit of your stomach. Your climax washed over you in slow, throbbing waves, and Lyney was kind enough to pretend he was lost in the same agonizing bliss, to act like that was the reason he was bucking into you so violently.

To act like he had an excuse to do this to you.

He fucked you through your orgasm, eventually stilling inside of you. With his body slotted against yours, his teeth still buried in your skin, he lingered there, only drawing back once your breathing had started to slow and deepen, once you’d stopped shaking underneath him. Even then, he didn’t let you go, didn’t leave you to cry your eyes out in an empty dressing room. Rather, he pressed a quick, fleeting kiss into your forehead before beaming at you - the light in his eyes so bright, you could almost forget it wasn’t real. “I’ll introduce you to my sister. I’m sure she’ll like you, too.”

Right, his sister, Lynette. You hadn’t seen her yet.

She and her twin brother weren’t supposed to be revealed until the show at the end of the night. You doubted anyone had even thought to power them on, yet.

“She’ll be as happy as I am to know we’ll be leaving with such a lovely master.”

#sex doll au #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact #genshin x reader #yandere genshin x reader #genshin imagines #yandere genshin imagines #yandere lyney #lyney x reader #yanderecore #yancore

2K notes · View notes

in-another-april · 6 months

Note

you don't have to write anything for this if you don't want no pressure but i wanted to share this thought i had

spencer is such a sap and is soo down bad for reader literally everything they do is so special to him it doesn't even matter what 😭 bro is blushing and kicking his feet over them just walking into the room or calling him dr. reid. just the most mundane stuff gets him flustered and all "that's my s/o 🥺🥺"

i love u for this omg. this is so canon!!

Every time you walk into the room he immediately feels more at ease and gets this soft little happy smile on his face, your presence is so comforting to him he just. feels better when you're around. Every so often he glances up to look at you and smiles to himself before getting back to work.

He's so enamored with you, you're the only thing that can really distract him or make him forget something. You lean in a bit to ask him a question (that he definitely knows the answer to) but his mind just goes !! it's them 😇 !! and he completely blanks. He has exactly one (1) braincell around you and it never fails to amuse the rest of the team.

It's even worse if you're touching him, his brain short-circuits at the smallest amount of contact it's insane. He could be in the middle of a sentence and then your hand drops down to casually rest on his thigh and he's DONE. No thoughts head empty (minus you, you're always on his mind, he's whipped)

And YEs he loves talking about you, he's so proud of literally everything you do. It's like half of his sentences start with "My S/O..." You're by far his favorite topic, he noticeably perks up and starts engaging/listening in to a conversation if he hears your name mentioned.

masterlist | inbox ♡

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #spencer x reader #spencer reid fluff #x reader #reid x reader #inbox-another-april

661 notes · View notes

whalesforhands · 3 months

Text

what’s yours is mine (7/?)

previous masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse AU)

“You’re not going to get any better if you don’t lie down.”

Yet you don’t listen, only clinging harder onto your Mama and pressing your face into her thigh from behind, helplessly balling her clothes into your fists as she watches the stove that had yet to be turned on.

Where a pot of uncooked rice porridge still sat atop, cold and unappetizing; totally unfit for a sick child such as you.

It was a curse that you swore had beset you on this unlucky day as you woke up groggy and sapped of your energy, stumbling over your blanket with shortened breaths as you tried to get to the bathroom.

You’re sure of it. An evil villain had blackened your soul, diminished your health and withered your spirit— All because you were a hero. That’s why Mama came upstairs only to find your half-dressed self face-planted onto the futon, your body trembling and clearly struggling to dress yourself without her as your eyes went teary from stress and the resentment of your weakened limbs.

“M-Mama…” Your voice is weak, strained and clearly upset as it tips over into a sob as you’re scooped up into her arms, her forehead pressed against yours in hurried moves as her much cooler hands hold your limp body.

You’re burning up.

“Honey, I think you’re sick.” It’s in a quiet coo, a soft trill to her tone in attempts to hush the beginnings of you throwing a fit.

“I-I’m n-not sick…!” You denied, hands curled into weak fists to throw a miniature, and very fatigue-ridden tantrum as your eyes tear up, bottom lip trembling as you try your best not to cry.

And Mama knows that you’re not the type to deny yourself from such things. Not the type of good child that would decline being babied and fawned over by her within any given circumstance. But she gets it, gets you.

It’s the day of the sports festival after all.

At the ripe young age of 8, sports has always been a defining point in popularity and the general likability of an individual in their class. A time for kids such as yourself to build repertoire, to build a reputation for themselves. A way to be labelled as ‘someone’.

Simply put, it was your opportunity to make friends without actually ‘making friends’. A, in your opinion, relatively smart way of flouting Satoru’s promise and Suguru’s disapproving gaze.

(Even if it made you sad to make them sad…)

So you chose to take part in the relay race, the one team based event that you think you could not possibly be bad at, your hand raised high into the air and eyes sparkling with a determination that made you believe that there was definitely a victory in sight when your teacher called for volunteers.

It went against your yearly choice of being on the cheer team, but you think change can be a good thing.

(Heroes always talk about it in anime.)

That’s why. That’s why your face was burning hot with the passion that was meant to be exerted upon the relay race, the tears leaking out of your eyes and soaking into your Mama’s skirt meant to be ones that would taste like victory when you brought great honour and glory to Class 3B.

It just wasn’t meant to be.

This is definitely the world’s revenge for making your friends upset. Heroes definitely do not have it easy, even if you did single-handedly save Satoru’s playground.

You can’t even eat the super delicious character bento that your Mama had stayed up late last night to make you as your bottom lip wobbles, frustration running high and your hands balling up the fabric of her skirt as you try your absolute hardest to make the swell in your throat go down.

You don’t want to cry. You’re strong. You’re capable. That’s why you’re a hero. That’s why you can’t let the villain who cursed you win.

And when a hand is gently rubbing your head from above alongside the sound of a pot clattering closed; it was enough to make the dam that you had so desperately tried to keep closed burst open.

“It’s okay to be sad.”

She knows how much you trained for this day. How much you let her smear sunscreen all over your face, whining and letting her pat your cheeks as you slip your feet into velcro sneakers, waving her goodbye with your waterbottle tucked underneath your armpit and a hanky in your pocket.

“Satoru said he’ll help me train.” Your look of determination barely falters as you smile up at her. “So I’m gonna work really, really hard.”

Gojo Satoru. The anchor of your class, the star boy who effortlessly gets the best grades despite sleeping through most of the lessons, and the one unanimously decided by the majority that he is the running last because that was just how fast he was. Don’t get yourself wrong, Suguru was fast. And really smart too.

But Gojo Satoru was just too exceptional even for the above average.

So that’s why you’re out here, an empty plastic cup in your hands acting as the ‘baton’ and Suguru waving a palm in front of your face to break you out of your daydreaming trance.

“You sure you wanna train when it’s so hot out?” His brows are furrowed and his lips are downturned into a frown. “Satoru and I don’t mind, but you don’t really like playing outside.”

Other than the playground anyway.

“Mmhm.” A nod of your head and the clenching of your fingers around the replacement baton as your own eyes hued with a fiery resolve met his worried purple. “I gotta do it.”

You’ll do it for glory. For the future where you’ll be as highly revered as your friends, for the classmates to even possibly think that you were the slightest bit cool.

“You’ll help, right?” Your smile is innocent and far too happy, the giddiness on the cheeks that were too cute for him to say anything else.

“…okay.” Anything for you.

This was your hero training arc.

“And Suguru’s gonna be passing to you from that tree, and you’ll pass to me! So we’re gonna practice that by running up and down this path I made Kimi-chan mark out!”

“Seriously? Where’d ya even get them?”

“I made Kimi-chan buy them, duh.”

That sounds easy enough, right? The cones that had been laid out practically beckon you as your ears no longer pick up on the chatter between your 2 friends, a giddy excitement in your stomach as you clench your fists with blazing resolve.

Well, some things are easier said than done.

A fall.

“(name)-sama, are you okay?!” Hands hurriedly pulling you back up to your feet as fingers fumble over your knees. “That was quite a bad fall…!”

Another stumble.

“I’ll run faster so that you have more time to pass to Satoru, okay?” His words are only slightly chopped, slightly winded from the multiple laps that he had gone as his hanky presses against your scratched knee.

An unprecedented tripping over your own feet. Or was it the air…?

“W-What? Ya were so close that time! How’d ya even fall?!” Gojo Satoru is the one who catches you this time, having hurriedly trying to break your fall having noticed the slightest odd bend in your ankles.

“Kimi-chan! How long did that take?!” He pants, wiping the sweat off his brow as the baton sticks to his slick hand, snowy hair sticking to his forehead as Suguru fans himself under the shade of the tree you were all taking refuge under, letting you catch your breath by leaning against him.

Said caretaker looks up from where she was icing your bruises, hands moving swiftly to take another look at the timer. “Exactly 2 minutes and 38 seconds, Young Master.”

“Ehhh? That’s so slow!”

And while you don’t cry a lot, but it doesn’t mean that you never will. It doesn’t mean that you don’t feel frustrated at the fact that you ran so much every single day after school, panting and feeling the heat of the sun on your hands, the sticky feeling of your clothes on your skin as you try not to feel faint. Try to get your bearings back every single time the boys practically ran laps around you.

Training is difficult. And it’s even more difficult to have to come to terms with what was now out of your reach.

“There’s always next year,” Her hand pats your back as her voice is barely above a whisper, gently wiping your tears as you feel her hand upon your chin, gingerly making you release your jaw so that you won’t bite down on your lips.

“What you worked hard for won’t disappear just like that.”

So that you won’t be so hard on yourself either.

“B-but I can’t—“ Can’t do anything even if you worked so hard for it. It’s become useless all on its own, even when you had so clearly forced down more vegetables these days in preparation, gulping down lots and lots of water to aid in the healthiness power up.

“What you can do now is do your best to cheer for your friends, okay? Then your effort won’t go to waste if you cheer really, really hard for them.” Your sight is blurry as you blink through your tears, staring up at the soft expression of your Mama’s face, the fever patch on your head making you start to feel faint.

“You’re really good at cheering too.” Not to brag or anything, but your Mama is definitely right. But you think your running is definitely and hopefully much better.

But that’s the only thing you can do for them now. A second chance, a gleaming, glowing chance that paves way to make up for the fact that you couldn’t win together with them.

So you accept it.

“Okay…” Even if you can’t see them, even if you can’t even cheer for them physically like you did in the previous years. But you’ll pray, pray really really hard in your head that they will win, that they would be the ones to bring the glory that you couldn’t.

You really hope it goes well. You really, really, really hope so as your chin rests on your Mama’s shoulder, your legs wrapped around her waist and her hand patting your back as she carries you up the stairs.

You do wonder how they’re doing up to now, though. Hopefully… Winning?

“No!” A cross of his arms and a huff of annoyance. “No way am I gonna receive from some nobody!” A decisive stamp of his foot into the dirt below, his back turned onto the only other person here that would even dare to go this close to him, especially when he’s kicking up a dust cloud alongside throwing yet another tantrum.

“You’re being too much, Satoru.” He sighs with a palm pressed to his forehead, his hair now shorter than ever so as to comply with school regulations as he watches his stubborn friend.

At least it won’t get in his face when he’s doing sports. Much unlike the fuming Gojo Satoru in front of him.

“Oi Suguru! How could ya let that hag tell us what to do?!”

And Geto Suguru feels like his head was going to split open. “Our homeroom teacher only suggested that we get a replacement because we’re short of one.”

At least, that’s what he’s been trying to get across for the past 10 minutes.

“We don’t need anybody replacin’ her!” Another stomp onto the ground as the blue-eyed boy pouts even harder, making a pebble launch off the ground and rocket towards the concrete wall to ricochet with a force full of repulsed impatience. “They’re gonna be stupider than her for getting sick t’day!”

“Then our class would be a person short, Satoru. And don’t call people stupid.” Because you’d probably be the one to make that comment right about now. Not that it matters, even if it came from the noiret who even tried to dissuade him with words that you’d probably say—

All for naught. Even if they mimicked the way you spoke, it just doesn’t have the same effect. So Geto Suguru had decided to just give up entirely to be the crass, straight to the point self that scratched at the nerves of the neighbourhood Gojo.

(And it looked like Satoru liked this version of him better, anyway.)

It doesn’t make logical sense to skip out on manpower. Not at all, especially when they’re in this specific category looking for a win. Yet, Suguru gets it as his nose scrunches and his brows furrow. He gets why the boy is so adamant on your position not getting swiped from underneath their noses.

(He won’t admit it though. If he does it first, it means Satoru wins.)

“It’s not like you can stop being sick all of a sudden.”

You worked so hard, after all. You would never be the type to lie to skip out on this. You’re just… Unlucky. Or was it their fault for making you play in those rain puddles…?

(“It’s not fair! I even made my maids pack extra special Digimon bentos to eat t’day!”

“Eat them yourself then—“

“No!”)

Alas, he still has to deal with the spoiled prince whom even the teachers seem too scared to make him upset. Seriously, what is up with everyone and the Gojo family?

“Then you just gotta run faster!” A poke of a proud finger into the young boy’s chest, a purposeful prod that was barely teetering on a threat as those shiny blue hues were ignited by a flare of indignation.

A glare that commanded Suguru’s obedience and compliance as those angry cheeks puff up even more.

Suguru would like to deny it, but you’re right when you say that this spoiled, stubborn, annoying boy was c—

“I don’t wanna receive from anybody else!” A click of his tongue as his shoe kicks at the dirt below him, and a smack against the black-haired boy’s shoulder as flabbergasted amethyst clashes against unrelenting sapphire.

“And we’re gonna win, no matter what. So don’t drag us down or I won’t forgive you!”

Good god, he was so difficult to deal with. Not that this was anything out of the ordinary for Geto Suguru, though.

A sigh, and childlike hands that clasped their together into a determined handshake, fingers squeezing into a promise just as the blare of the loudspeaker comes on to announce the start of their event.

“Say that to yourself first, Satoru.” A tightening of their hands as the ‘handshake’ gets ever tighter with their growing adrenaline. “I won’t forgive you either if you lose to the rest of them.”

(“Also, can’t ya eat your bentos yourself? My mama packed me one too with cold soba—“ He immediately shuts up when he spots the angry pout on his friend’s face, red cheeks and fuming anger that threatened to have steam blow out his ears.

And the— Sight of eyes that looked like they were gonna… Cry?

Oh.

“…let’s save some for (name) when we eat them later.”)

——

“Dear,” A cool hand pushes your hair back as you groggily blink awake, tummy still warm from porridge and forehead feeling slightly damp from the soft, moist cloth against your heated skin. “Are you feeling better?”

“Mn…” You think your body is starting to feel less heavy, less burdensome on your bones as you let out a groan, small hand reaching out for the glass of water that looked like it was floating in front of you.

Magic glasses of water taste the best. You would know since you had a couple today. At least… You think it’s magic. It is, right? That’s why they always fly around and looked like there was always more than one surrounding you.

“Geto-san came over with some soup when she heard you were sick.” She’s gently smoothing down your hair as you start to perk up, shifting slightly so as to be able to sit up properly against your Mama’s arm supporting you against your back.

“You can eat it later, okay?”

You hope you have strength to go over and thank her later, though… Do you have to give her something as thanks too? It must be hard, having to make a soup that would help cure the curse upon your body…

Mama stops momentarily as she watches you from above, humming slightly when you finally down the rest of your glass and let out a little sigh, fully going lax against your Mama’s cooler to the touch body as you cuddle up against her.

She should take more off days to stay together with you more—

“Oh, and your friends. They came over to visit as well.”

And that has you whipping around to face your Mama, the sudden movement making your stiff neck cramp slightly from how long you laid down.

But it doesn’t matter. The pain won’t stop you. Won’t stop the racing thoughts you had through your head that mostly overpowered the soreness of your neck.

Was the sports event already over? Did they win? Did they lose— No. Wait. That’s impossible. Your friends could never, would never lose. Oh, but what if there was a possible chance there was? Even if heroes suffered a little bit sometimes the villain could still win—

“But I couldn’t let them in.”

“(name)’s mama! Is she awake yet?” This was probably the third time they had knocked against the front door, hands on his hips and blue eyes staring up at the all too patient woman.

“Satoru— My mama said we have to wait.” Purple eyes blink up at her apologetically. “Sorry, (name)‘s mama, we can wait a while longer—“

“But it’s been like— Too long, Suguru! How much longer until she wakes up???”

Oh. That sucks. You visibly deflate, a whimper escaping you as your shoulders slump into defeat. You can’t even talk to them or else you’ll pass your dirty, cursed germs to them…

“Nothing a call can’t fix,” She uses a soft handkerchief to wipe any remnant moisture, petting your head as her eyes briefly meet the drawn curtains of your shared bedroom.

“And I might… Have a better idea.”

Excited waves from the window, shimmers of gold against reflective glass and your widening eyes as the summer breeze flutters the curtains and ruffles through your hair.

It’s windier than you thought, with the sun in your eyes and the cicadas singing in this heat.

(Or was it because you just spent most of the day sleeping?)

“Look! I won the medals for us!” Half his body was practically hanging off of the window ledge, hands holding all 3 shiny medals as his lower half was held back only by the more responsible friend clinging onto Satoru’s waist and pulling with all the might an 8 year old might have.

“Satoru! Don’t lean over the window— And we won those together!”

A haughty huff.

“Ya, but you didn’t cross the finish line, did ya? I did! But look, look! We got your medal too!”

(“You’re so annoying!”

“Blehhhh!” A stick out of his tongue as excited blue kept jumping in place despite the dangerous position he put himself in. “Kimi-chan’s already down there to catch me just in case, anyway!”)

Golden and shiny and everything that encompassed a winner. It shone so brightly even when competing against the late afternoon sunshine, stood out even when held

Winners. They’re winners.

But if you think about it all on your lonesome, looking upon those shiny medals and standing by your window with your futon wrapped around your form…

There’s something odd about this empty feeling inside of you. Something that lingers in the same sense disappointment would, swirling around you and making you feel… Bad.

Why? You’re happy that your class won, happy that they managed to win the glory you’ve been going on and on about in your head. They’re winners, beat out all the other people who trained hard for this event as well. What is this disgusting feeling of secretly hoping that they lost?

So why? Why is it that you feel this way even as they smile so proudly at you, proclaiming that they’ll personally hang the medal around your neck when you get better so that they can dub you a winner too—

“See? Ya didn’t have to worry about us at all, (name)!” His sparkling blue eyes close to form a matching grin with Suguru who was too busy smiling at you despite your sick state, eyes too busy to notice Gojo Satoru smacking his shoulder when they’re stuck staring at you.

“You’re getting better, right? Your Mama said that you slept a lot. We can talk more with our telephone when Satoru’s gone cause he’s annoying.”

“Hey! I want a string telephone connecting to all your houses too!”

“You live too far. So it’s only mine and (name)’s.”

Ah. You think you get it now. Understand why you feel this way as your hand gingerly presses against your hot cheek and sliding up to your eyes to feel the wetness that was starting to form.

When did you—?

It has your friends doing a double take.

“(name)… Are you crying?” Please don’t cry.

“I-I think she’s just happy that we won! Right, (name)?” Please don’t cry. Not right now.

Because you realize these weren’t tears of happiness, after all. It was the realization that— Despite all your training, despite all the effort you put in to help them, help this class…

They didn’t need you to win after all.

“…yea! Good job!” Your smile feels too unlike any that you’ve ever given, all stretched awkwardly and like it didn’t belong.

This wasn’t you. You know it so, since this is your own self you’re talking about.

You’ve definitely been cursed.

——

And so, it wasn’t long after that you finally recovered, finally able to properly get onto your feet. Finally able to get dressed without your Mama's help, finally able to pick up your backpack without faceplanting onto the ground... All that healing food did wonders.

("You're so happy today, Satoru." You can't help but smile at the boy holding hands with both yourself and your black-haired friend as all 3 of you sat in his car, listlessly listening to the radio together as he sat directly in between the both of you, tips of his ears red as he tries to act... Cool.

"Oh? Satoru, what's with that face?" A smug smile and upturned purple eyes. "Don't tell me it's because you missed-"

"Shut up, Weird Bangs!")

So imagine your surprise when your teacher beckons someone in from outside your classroom door, the entrance sliding open and the taps of an unfamiliar pair of shiny, brand new indoor shoes against the floors of this familiar classroom.

A new kid. One that had a pretty mole by her eye and her prettier name written so neatly upon the blackboard in such neat chalk lines that you just can’t help but feel envious.

“Ieiri Shoko. Please take care of me.” With only the slightest bow as she stares ahead blankly, eyes avoiding the whispers of your already chattering class.

It must be scary, right? To have to stand there and do that… You don’t think you want to be in her position right now.

“Do you think she’s scared?” It’s a thoughtless whisper to the only other person who could possibly hear right now, your own gaze meeting familiar purple.

“Maybe.” He’s dismissive, as if he didn’t care too much as he takes out his pencil case. “I brought the colour pencils you wanted to see, by the way.”

Ohh—! You’ve been wanting to—

“She looks boring.” His crass huff from your other occupied side makes you think he already doesn’t like her. “Don’t talk to her, (name).”

Shimmering comets for eyes turn to meet yours, glowing with a certain spark that had hidden thoughts.

“You’ll get into trouble.”

“Thank you, Ieiri-chan. Please sit at the empty desk near the back by Minato-chan.” A shuffle of papers as your homeroom teacher neatens the stack. “I want you all to be nice to our new friend, okay?”

“Okay, sensei!”

“Good! Now let’s begin class.”

Lunch rolls by far too quickly today. You swear the clock is definitely moving faster than usual.

“Heyyyyy. Stop studying and let’s go playyyyy!” A poke of your cheek as you stare at Suguru’s workings, eyes narrowing as you try to make sense of these complicated numbers.

“Ah, make sure you erase this. You’ll get confused if you don’t.”

“Is this right?” Your paper is pushed towards the more helpful of your friends, anticipating his praise as you wait with bated breath as his purple eyes scan over the worksheet.

You definitely got it this time. Definitely.

“Suguruuuuu! Y’er so slow, I’ll do it!” And that has him snatching up the starting to crumple sheet, blue eyes screening over it with ferocious and frightening accuracy, his cute brows furrowed and his bottom lip jutted out as he lets out a huff.

“This one’s wrong.” A finger taps against your paper, drawing a circle with his fingertip as he yawns. “And this one. This too.”

“The last one was s’pposed to be right but ya forgot to carry the 1 over.” His cheeks puff with dismissiveness when he looks up to only see Suguru comforting you with pats on your shoulder.

Oh.

“W-What? I only checked ‘em over!” He’s not at fault again for something, right? He was sure this was a more straightforward thing of being correct or not, something that shouldn’t be that big of a deal even if it’s because of the way he spoke—

If you hadn’t gotten them all wrong, that is.

“…it’s okay, (name). We can just practice them again.” And you pout, letting Suguru pat your head in consolation as you stare down at the hurriedly marked paper that was handed back to you. “Satoru just doesn’t know how to be nice cause he’s mean.”

“Hey! I can be nice!” Fuming rage and his hands slamming against his desk. “I’ll help ya both study later if (name) gives me a hug and the pudding in your fridge!”

And he’s serious about it. You can tell by his shiny cheeks and those smug half-lidded eyes that he would help— Even if you didn’t give him the pudding. The hug would be mandatory, though.

“What does my pudding even have to do with all this?”

All this whilst that new girl sat alone in the back of the class by herself. She’s not good at making friends, you notice. Quietly keeping to herself as she flips through a book, ignoring the cries of your schoolmates running down the hallway and into the wide, wide yard.

And when hands squeeze your cheeks together, mushing your face into his palms and making you turn away—

“You shouldn’t look at other people when we’re here. Sato—“ He stops himself, eyes moving from the pouting boy and back to your face that was in his hands. “I don’t like it.”

You must’ve been staring for too long.

——

“I don’t wanna go!” He’s clinging to you, backpack hastily thrown onto the ground as Kimiko-san tries her absolute hardest to persuade her young master into the car.

“Please, Satoru-sama. You have martial arts training—“

“Don’t wanna! I wanna stay with (name)!”

So all you can do is stand there and pat his shoulder, his head on your not at all stiff shoulder as you reciprocate his overly attached self, blinking up at a panicking Kimiko-san before down to the head of fluffy white.

“Suguru said he’ll beat you up with judo if you don’t go.”

Because he’s in the club. And he’s really good at it. Better than Satoru, actually.

“That dummy’s not gonna beat me.” It’s off handed and far too self assured as it’s muffled by the strap of your bag.

“You don’t know that.” You really don’t. Suguru’s been going on and on about training a lot, and he let you both see how he could do a flip once. At least— You think it counts as a flip anyway.

And you can hear him mutter unintelligible words, before he pulls away, his hands grabbing onto your shoulders and ferocious, narrowed eyes staring at you head-on with a pout on his lips.

“You better be at home to play with me when we’re back!”

“Okay.” You nod, sticking out your pinky towards him as you smile. “I promise.”

“Hmph!” He takes it, roughly, with a pout that turned into a satisfied smile as he finally— Finally gets in the car.

(“Thank you so much, (name)-sama…”

“It’s okay. I heard Libras were unlucky today cause the stars aren’t aligned for them. You should be cautious about the people around you, lest you run into trouble.”

“T-Thank you, (name)-sama…? Please get home safe. Weather reports say that it will rain soon.”)

And what unexpectedly occurred— Was the fact that the new kid was waiting in the same area as you were, waiting out the rain due to a neglected umbrella that probably sat near her door.

Which was the same case as you were. Except— Despite Kimiko-san’s warning, you ended up wandering around school too long in hopes of getting to watch Suguru train.

“Hi.” You’re trying to make conversation now that it’s just the both of you. Alone. By yourselves. This is a rare chance, honestly. You can count how many times you’ve been left like this by your friends on one hand throughout the years you’ve all been together.

It’s a chance you don’t really want to pass up. Time to put those social skills you’ve gleaned over the years into good use.

(From all those TV shows you’ve watched, of course. Your zodiac sign said that you’ll be lucky if you put yourself out there! And you’re outside right now, so you definitely have been buffed. A special power-up, if you will.)

“…hello.” A response. This is a success. A major success that you got on your own accord.

(Onto the next phase!)

“So didya hear about the… Recent sports festival?” You nod your head. Perfect. Perfect follow-up. “Our school held one a couple days ago.”

“Oh. That.” She doesn’t look up from the book she had been reading all this time. And now that you’re much closer to her than you ever were before—

You realize it’s a manga. Not a book. Technically, she is holding onto a book, but utilizing the hard cover page to cover up the fact that the manga had been sneakily slotted in.

“I was meant to join just a day before, actually. But I made my mama wait a couple days more.”

What.

“You waited until the day after?” Why? Why would she— This new girl do such a thing when it could bring you and your class such great glory?

“But the sports festival is fun…” And a great chance to make a ton of new friends. She’s not under the same promises that you made.

She goes silent, the mole on her cheek rising with her huff as she looks off to the side, out to the open air space that held the path to the school entrance as droplets of water tap against the tips of her shoes.

“Cause it’s bothersome.”

Oh. That’s a new type of answer.

“Do you hate bothersome things?”

And finally— She looks into your eyes, pushing back a stray strand of her long hair and her eyes hued with dews of luster brown that reminded you of the autumn sunset surrounded by orange leaves and sunset rays.

“Yea.”

“Oh.” That’s all you know how to say now, actually. Um… How do you respond to that?

So you go silent. You think she might be annoyed. Hopefully she’s not? You hope she likes you, though. And that you left an okayish impression. Should you tell her she’s pretty? But still, Suguru’s prettier but you can’t tell her that—

“Do you… Usually let them treat you like that?” She sounds… Bored. Maybe taken aback. Or was it simply just curiosity?

Either way, you’ve never really heard anyone ask about that— Other than your Mama, of course. But you tell her everything practically everyday.

“Is there something—“ How should you say it? Is she trying to tell you something? You think it’s fine, even if you don’t know how other people view it. “Bad about the way they treat me?”

You watch as she thinks for a bit, staring off to the side for a bit and up into the dark skies as the rain starts to pour just that little bit harder.

“Not at all.”

——

“Stop looking at me like that, you brat.”

Your eyes were practically boring into him as you watch him rub at a bruise on his cheek, his knuckles stained with dried blood and his green eyes narrowed into a mean glare.

“Did you beat up some—“ You try to think about how he described those people the last time you talked to him— Which was around last week, maybe?

“Butt ugly misters?”

It’s not the exact wording he used, but whatever he says makes you scared to parrot them since you’ve seen one of the old aunties— Sugimoto-san quite literally gasp when she heard him talk once.

“They’re motherfuc— Bad people. Don’t call them misters.”

“You said you didn’t care what I call them though.”

And all you get in response is the click of his tongue. “Whatever, brat.”

Silence. It’s steady and beating and not at all uncomfortable as you watch him pull out another piece of his snack, big teeth chewing with an open mouth and manners flying away. Yet, you still end up asking from your built up curiosity and these mere few minutes just before either of your friends would make it home.

It’s your free time, anyway.

“Mister, am I a bothersome person?” Like those thugs that he gets into scraps with practically every month?

A deep huff as his teeth chew on dried squid, gnawing at the tough exterior as he stares off into the oranges of the sky. “Duh. Who even likes annoying brats like you?”

Even when he says it like that, you can’t help but feel that it’s not true. There’s a reason you hang around him, a reason you still stay despite how mean and nasty this almost adult can be and how often he lies about how he definitely didn’t get into fights.

It’s because he reminds you a little of Satoru.

His words may cut, may be a little overwhelming and cruel. But they ultimately held no weight, nothing particularly soul-crushing or tear weeping.

You might even dare to say that even his insults sound very comforting to you.

That was why you were eating the very crushed biscuits that had been almost mashed into dust right out of the very crinkled plastic packaging that it came out from right now.

(He bought it for you.)

“Nuh uh. Mama says I’m a good kid.”

Maybe it’s the sincerity in your tone, the innocence that can only come from a child that got him thinking.

He doesn’t know how to describe how he’s feeling right now as he stares down at his bruised knuckles, bloody and calloused and hastily bandaged as he grunts.

“Then stop hanging out with me if you think that, kid.”

previous masterlist next

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader

158 notes · View notes

wynnyfryd · 7 months

Text

Trailer park Steve AU part 51

part 1 | part 50 | ao3

Knowing the weirdness is coming doesn't make it less weird.

Steve clings to Jeff's warning like a lifeline in the days after the attack, as Eddie swings wildly from withdrawn and paranoid to brash and itching for a fight. One second he's tackling Steve in a public park, sweeping him off his feet and swinging in a wide, reckless circle, the next he's shooting dodgy glances over his shoulder and suggesting they come up with some kind of tapping code when they want to communicate the urge to kiss or hug in public.

His face is a mess for weeks.

He doesn’t want to talk about it.

Hardly wants to look at it — takes to avoiding mirrors and fucking Steve from behind, or turning off all the lights, or hiding his face behind his hair when he gets between Steve’s legs. Plays it off like he’s just being sexy, trying something new, ‘isn’t this exciting?’ But Steve’s pretty sure he just doesn’t want to see the worry in Steve’s eyes when their kisses hurt his face.

So Valentine's Day comes and goes, and Steve doesn't say it; doesn't say 'I love you,' because he's never sure he's going to get the version of Eddie who’s brave enough to say it back. They don't even do anything for the holiday, really, which kind of kills Steve, even if he won't admit it.

He can't help it; he's a sap.

They do share a heart-shaped box of chocolates in Eddie’s bed the day after, though. Led Zeppelin crooning softly from the record player, and Steve plays it off like he only bought them because they were half off, and Eddie gives him a gooey look and pushes him into the pillows. Blows him within an inch of his young life; smiles up at him at the end, lips slick and full and pretty. Steve thinks, maybe they're okay.

They’ll be okay.

Eddie may still be a little off, a little wobbly, but he’s laughing again, he’s silly and animated again, he’s playing guitar and making jokes, and—

And who is Steve to judge how a person, like, processes or whatever? At least Eddie’s not doing any late night demolition.

They’re gonna be just fine.

The last of the sickly yellow bruising slips away from Eddie's eye as the month comes to a close, so Steve decides to risk it. Asks Eddie out. A movie night, a proper date where Steve can pay for the milkshakes and let their thighs brush against each other when the theater lights go down.

And sure, they'll have to pretend it’s just two straight guys hanging out — do their tapping thing and keep a healthy distance, two bros being pals being buds being dudes — and that shit sucks, but it’s better than nothing.

Steve's never had to worry about PDA before. One more thing he won't admit is kind of slowly killing him; rope burn around his heart when he thinks about it too hard.

"What do you say?" he asks Eddie. They’re lounging on his couch, propped on opposite ends with their legs tangled in the middle. "You want to let me take you out to the city?"

Brookhaven isn't exactly the city so much as the closest suburb whose mall didn't get torpedoed by the commies, but there's a theater and some decent diners, and it's far enough away that they shouldn't run into any classmates looking to cause trouble.

Eddie gives him a wary look. “I don’t know,” he hedges, fingers coming up to worry the thin sliver of a scar under his chin.

Steve swallows the hurt. The twine chafing behind his ribs. "It's okay," he starts to say, but Eddie's eyes flare with defiance.

“Actually, fuck it,” he declares, slapping his knees as he stands up. Gets up onto the couch cushion, spreads his feet wide and puts his hands on his hips; Steve’s little metalhead superhero. Steve can't help his grin when Eddie shakes his hair out big and says, "Take me out and woo me, baby!"

—

part 52

tag list in separate reblogs under '#trailer park steve au taglist' if you'd like to filter that content. if you want to be added please comment and let me know (must be over 21; please either verify in the comment or have your age visible on your blog)

#trailer park steve au #steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #my writing #my fic

300 notes · View notes

iloveboysinred · 4 months

Text

Life with Keith after the war [Domestic fluff hcs]

pg.13 fluff| Keith Kogane x gn reader

cw; fluff, domestic life, mentions of war

masterlist

-Okay so after the war against the Galra was won, you and Keith moved back to his house in the desert, opting to live a quiet life in isolation.

-it was peaceful and a stark contrast to the almost constant chaos of whirling around in space.

-you and Keith made some renovations to the home, fixing broken windows, re-storing the paint on the walls, and getting working appliances like a new fridge, a microwave and a bunch of new cups and plates.

-Mornings with him were your favorite, you always woke up before him, turning on some music and cooking breakfast for yourselves, watching the sun finish rising.

-he didn't wake up too long after you, your lack of warmth in bed basically forcing him to get up and look for you.

-He would find you in the kitchen, a cute apron that was much too long for you covering you from the mess of pancake batter all over the counter.

-"Morning Keith" "mmh morning baby. What's cooking?"

-he would come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist, burying his face in the crook of your neck, his sleep laden eyes still not adjusted to the bright morning light shinning through the windows. He made a mental note to get curtains.

-He would hold onto your hips and sway side to side, following the beat of the music playing.

-you guys regularly visited Shiro, almost always taking home Tupperwares of food his husband would cook, never returning them back because Keith kept forgetting them.

-you guys had built a dog house outside for Kosmo, but he would just teleport right back inside, suddenly laying over you and Keith on the bed, wagging his tail like a puppy.

-You guys spent most of the day indoors, watching movies, talking about the future, loving on each other and trying to make up for all the times you couldn't be like this in space.

-Keith had become such a cuddle bug it was ridiculous, his hands were always wrapped around your waist, and he always had to be touching you, sub-consciously or on purpose.

-When you guys would sitting down at the dinning table, his hand would interlink with yours or rest on your thigh.

-you never went to bed before chit chatting about your day, exchanging I love yous and snuggling up under the covers.

-on the nights that you did stay up together, you and him would sit outside and stargaze, or stay in and watch scary movies with all types of sugary junk food, as if you guys were still teenagers.

-you regularly de-tangled and kept up with Keith's hair, it was so healthy and shiny.

-whenever Krolia visited you would all catch up, her sharing with you her earliest memories of baby Keith.

-he would blush and cross his arms, growing more and more embarrassed at every story. Your giggling not making it any better.

-after about a year and a half, Keith asked you to marry him. Much to Krolia's delight.

-you decided to have a small wedding, Keith not being the big flashy party type of man.

-You invited all the former paladins, as well as Ulaz and Krolia, everyone making sure to show up and celebrate your special day.

-you were over the moon once your vows were said and you were officially married, yanking Keith onto you and pressing a kiss to his lips, everyone cheering behind you and clapping.

-after the wedding, you guys laid in bed, just admiring each other, loving kisses exchanged between the both of you.

-from then on Keith just called you by your shared last name most of the time.

-"good morning, Mr/s Kogane"

-made it a point to let everyone know you were his spouse.

-he was such a sap, having multiple framed pictures of your wedding all over the house.

-Eventually the conversation of children came up, deciding when the time came you would adopt, wanting to give a child a family, just as Shiro did to Keith.

-Keith splurged as much as he could for the new addition to the family, buying clothes, food, toiletries, everything.

-he filled what used to be his room in the house with kid stuff.

-Shiro would frequently come over during this time, brining handbooks on parenting, offering useful advice on how to make the child feel at home and comfortable.

-When your new son came home you and Keith were over the moon, low-key freaking the little boy out with your enthusiasm.

-got a regular dog for him, scared Kosmo would teleport him to god knows where.

-it took a while, but he ended up warning up to you and Keith, you guys were a proper family.

-you and Keith grew old and grey.

-you would still hold hands on the porch, sitting side by side as the days would go by, but your love never ceased.

#❥iloveboysinred #keith kogane #keith kogane x reader #vld keith

149 notes · View notes

s1llysmut · 4 months

Text

NSFW Alphabet for Lucifer

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He is immediately asking you if you need anything, getting you water, snacks, running you both a bath, cuddles. Surprisingly if you take a bath with him it won’t lead to more sex unless you initiate it. Don’t get me wrong, he loves having sexy time with you but he also loves those intimate moments after sex.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

His favourite body part of himself is probably his tongue. He considers himself quite talented when it comes to oral. His favourite body part of yours is definitely your thighs. He LOVES to squeeze them and have his head between them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He LOVES to cum inside of you. He literally begs you for it every single time.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He loves to be pegged. Honestly is that really a secret though?

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

He is extremely experienced. I mean come on this is the king of hell we’re talking about, of course he knows what he’s doing! How else did he pull Lilith AND Eve?!

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

He loves missionary because he can see your beautiful face but he also loves being ridden. He just loves when you use him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He definitely allows himself and you to be goofy. However if it’s your first time together and you laugh at a mistake he makes he might get a little insecure.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn’t shave but he does keep it well trimmed. It’s blonde like his hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

He is extremely romantic. He is such a sap I swear to god. He would unironically do those cliche rose petals and candles. Don’t laugh at him okay? He’s trying to be a good partner.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

I have a feeling he gets morning wood like every single damn morning so I feel like he masturbates mostly in the mornings. Only if you’re not there to help him though.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He loves being praised. He’s a sucker for it. Tell him he’s making you feel good and he’ll fold entirely. BUT he also likes being degraded to a degree. Call him a good little slut and he’ll die.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Anywhere literally anywhere.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Praise, teasing touches, slight degradation, whispering in his ear, etc.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Knife play. He doesn’t wanna hurt you ever. No matter how much you reassure him it would still make him way too anxious.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He loves when you suck him off but he also loves eating you out/sucking you off. He loves your thighs wrapped around his head and as I said before he’s very skilled with his tongue.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

That depends on what you want. He however prefers to go slow and sensual. He wants to feel every inch of you.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He doesn’t mind them however he does prefer to take his time with you.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Yes he will definitely take risks. He’s a sucker for you so he’s willing to try pretty much anything if it’ll make you happy.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

He can go probably quite a few rounds. I’m thinking maybe 5? He likes being overstimulated.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He probably owns a dildo and a fleshlight for himself when you’re not around.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He might tease you a little bit but like I said, he’s down bad for you, anything you ask you will receive.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

If he’s dominant he’ll be moaning and grunting , some panting here and there too. However, if he’s the submissive, he is full on whimpering and whining.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

He would 100% let you step on him. He loves when you’re dominant so much.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He’s thickkkk. He’s about 7 or 8 inches long too. You’re in for a longgggg night.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

He has a fairly high sex drive. He likes doing it daily soooo good luck.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As soon as he’s sure you’re comfortable and content, he’ll cuddle up and sleep with you.

#smut fic #smut #hazbin hotel smut #hazbin smut #hazbin hotel #lucifer morningstar #hazbin lucifer #lucifer magne #hazbin hotel lucifer #smut headcanons #headcanon #smut alphabet

144 notes · View notes

rabbit-or-rib · 6 months

Note

Rubbing my hands together like a evil fly

What's up pookie how are you, I have another request of it's okay :3

Some sfw and NSFW headcanons for Tim and Evan?

(the volleyball ones were so good I was giggling and kicking my legs ngl)

-🐟

HIII FISHY !! i'm soso happy you liked them :33 lmk if any of this should change !!

[NSFT] 🚬☠️ Tim Wright / Evan Myers x gn!reader sft and nsft headcanons :)

· · ·

Tim :

[SFT]

sappy guy honestly

he's got a lot of walls for you to get through, but as soon as you do he's the SWEETEST

he's a family man i can tell you that

whether that's y'all and some kids or y'all and some pets is up to you

he's the kinda guy to slow dance in the kitchen with you, quietly humming and tracing small circles into your back

he feels so guilty for it, but he does have a lot of reoccurring nightmares given what he's been through

he made need space, he may need comfort, but he just doesn't want you to be scared

that's honestly a major fear of his, making you scared of him in any way

it's a lot of his job and day to day, but he doesn't wanna do that to you. he knows you, he's let you into his life, he wants to keep you there

he honestly and truly does his best to keep you happy

he knows he can't get you everything he wishes he could, but he'll be damned if he doesn't try to make it up to you in other ways

[NSFT]

SPEAKING OF OTHER WAYYSSS

lord have mercy does this man love to praise you

every little thing you do, every little noise you make, he thinks it's the sweetest thing

not to say he won't be absolutely demolishing you, but he's definitely gonna be whispering deep, gravely praises into your ear while he does it

you have an almost constant hum of a low, "yeahh, that feel good, pretty? doin' so good for me, just a little more, i know you've got it in ya"

LOOOVES FUCKING YOU FROM THE BACK 🗣️

the control he has to use you however he wants reaaally gets him going

and he likes that you get to be as loud as you want, since most of the time he lasts long enough for your arms give out holding your body up that you're just a moaning mess against the pillows

he has

a secret

that he is EMBARRASSEDDDDDD about

it makes his head spin when you mark up his neck

he's so sensitive, poor thing has to grab onto your hips with a vice grip to keep himself grounded

if you catch him in the right moment while you're riding him and go for his neck, it's one of the few times you can hear him whimper

Evan :

[SFT]

HE IS SUCH A GOOF

complete dork and we love him for it

he's so obviously head over heels for you and it's the sweetest

if you like to talk about drama from work, school, etc he is PERFECT for over the top reactions

i feel like you guys have a lot of those moments where if there's a beat of silence in a conversation or just in general as soon as you guys make eye contact you burst out laughing at literally nothing

likes to play his music LOUDD

especially in the shower or while he's cleaning he is jamming way tf out and he absolutely wants you to join him

i think physical touch, words of affirmation and quality time are big things for him, so even if you're just there sitting on the couch while he's blasting music and smiling at him, he's over the moon

he's so silly and such a sap he'd do anything for you ☹️

[NSFT]

i can't imagine a world where Evan isn't loud

loves having you on top, you having any kind of control over him makes him melt

he is such a mess when he gets head

he's grabbing at anything he can, throwing his head back to let out whimpers and moans of your name

"o-ohh my god- babe please, please please it's s'much-"

HE CAN BE A SWEETHEART SOFT DOM THO

pressing your legs against your chest, panting and whimpering while trying his best to stay focused and keep an actual rhythm but you just feel so good around him his hips stutter and jolt against the back of your thighs

he always loves getting to see your face during anything

he wants to know he's doing good, and if he gets to watch your eyes roll back and hear you gasp out his name it's all he needs

he likes to talk you through it 😛

you could be on top riding him and as soon as he knows you're close he'd have a hand gripping your thigh or holding your hand, his voice low and adoring at he tells you "come on, baby, i got you, cum for me. i'm right here, i knoww, it feels so good, huh?"

#🐟#evan myers x reader #evan myers smut #tim wright x reader #tim wright smut #everymanhybrid x reader #marble hornets x reader #rabbit writings

243 notes · View notes

sopebubbles · 1 year

Text

Two

Masterlist

Synopsis: in a world where alphas, betas, and omegas live along side modern humans as second class citizens, you've fallen through the cracks of a society that wants to take everything wonderful from you. Luckily a timely encounter with the boys just might save your life.

Chapter summary: the boys try to find your pack and face some painful truths.

Warnings: I feel like I should warn you that mc does not appear on screen at all for this whole chapter, language, honestly it's just pretty fuckin angsty.

Wc: 4k

The ride through the kaleidoscope of traffic lights and street lamps passed in near silence as they got closer to your address. Jungkook didn't notice, as caught up as he was in his own head, but for Yoongi the tension was excruciating. With one hand still on the wheel he stretched the other out to grip Jungkook's arm.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"

Jungkook turned slowly to look at the other. "Talk about what?"

With a knowing smile that wasn't truly happy at all, Yoongi slid his hand down to grasp Jungkook's fist, which had been clenched to trembling on his thigh.

"Whatever is bothering you."

Jungkook rubbed his forehead and sighed, consciously unclenching his fist to let his fingers slot between Yoongi's and take the comfort the alpha's large, warm hands offered. He wouldn't really know where to begin. He'd seen so much shit today, the worst parts of society, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. When he first became a cop less than a year ago, he thought he could make a difference, make this world a safer place for everyone in it. But he'd quickly learned that more often than not he was merely a witness, someone who gathered the pieces to say this is what happened when something terrible occurred and to pray for justice that would likely never come. Sometimes it was just a bit too much to handle or to speak of.

Yoongi knew that all too well. And Jungkook knew the offer to talk was just that, an offer, not a demand. Like Jungkook and Jimin, Yoongi saw horror on a daily basis, and he knew there were times that there weren't words to speak. All the pack knew there was an overwhelming amount of injustice all around them. Jin saw so much evidence of it in his office where he worked within the legal system to try and make a difference. But none of them saw it as viscerally each and every day the way the three of them did.

"I can't stop thinking about the phone call with that woman. The way she sounded…not just disgusted but shocked. She really had no idea that Y/N isn't Sap. How is that even possible?"

Yoongi shrugged. "It's not uncommon for Lykos to try to pass for Sapiens in the workplace. It's usually only betas who can get away with it but," he shrugged again. "You said it was a bar right? Between scent blockers and so many other people, maybe it's easy to hide. She gets better wages, better tips. Even though lots of professions aren't required to disclose a second gender, there are plenty of assholes out there that won't hire an omega. Or an alpha for that matter," Yoongi added.

Jungkook sneered. "I still can't believe there are betas out there who honestly think it's better for them to pretend to be Saps. I could never imagine doing that. To just disown your entire heritage like that?" He shook his head and stared out the window.

Yoongi just pursed his lips. He didn't think he could explain it to Jungkook, nor did he think it would matter at the moment. It was good that Jungkook was a proud Lykos, that he was proud of his family and his pack. But Yoongi knew from experience that it wasn't so easy for everyone. Passing for Sapien was, in most cases, a uniquely beta privilege. It was probably even harder for alphas than omegas in Yoongi's opinion. If Yoongi could have passed for Sapien or if alphas weren't so strongly discriminated against, he might have gone to med school and become a doctor. Not that Yoongi was complaining. He was proud to do his job most of the time, even if it wasn't everything he had once dreamed. Luckily, Yoongi didn't have to continue the conversation because the GPS on his phone told them they had arrived.

The building they were looking at was a dingy, dilapidated brown that hadn't seen a fresh coat of paint in several decades. Just as well. The building would probably be better off torn down than renovated.

"Jesus," Yoongi muttered under his breath. Jungkook unbuckled his seat belt. "Wait, let's have a plan. You wanna do good cop, bad cop?" Yoongi asked, gesturing first to his partner and then to himself.

Jungkook shook his head but there was a smile on his lips. "How about a cop and a concerned citizen."

Yoongi sighed. "Sounds lame, but okay."

The pair exited the vehicle and walked briskly up to the front door. The external entrance to the building didn't appear to have any functional lock, and Yoongi's alpha growled in his head at the lack of security as they walked right in the door. Inside, they could hear several TVs playing loudly, probably trying and failing to drown out the sound of the couple fighting on the second floor who they heard as Jungkook navigated them to the unit printed on your license. The mixture of scents in the building was just as loud. Everyone living in the building must be Lykos. When they arrived at #23–only the gold 2 was still present on the door while the 3 was outlined by peeling brown paint–Jungkook rapped on the door with three firm, decisive knocks. Yoongi could practically hear every asshole in the building clench at the sound of what could only be a cop's knock. He had to suppress a chuckle.

After a few seconds, they heard the sound of a chain and several deadbolts make way so that a young Lykos could open the door a few inches. By the smell of her, Yoongi would guess she was a beta.

"Good evening, ma'am. We're sorry to bother you. We're looking for the home of a woman named Y/N Y/L/N. Does she live here?"

"No, sir. She doesn't live here." The woman replied mechanically. Jungkook couldn't read her expression from behind the door.

"Please, we need to get in touch with her family. If you have any information about her," Jungkook pressed.

The woman hesitated a moment before speaking again. "Wait just a moment."

She closed the door on them and Jungkook and Yoongi shared a look of raised eyebrows. The former hoped to hear the slide of the last chain, but seconds ticked by and when she returned the door remained blocked. The woman passed several envelopes through the small space.

"I think she must have been that sad omega that lived here before me. I've been collecting these. Meant to take them to be returned to sender but I keep forgetting. Maybe you can get them to her."

Jungkook took the envelopes, not knowing what else he could do. He cleared his throat. "Thanks."

The beta closed the door once again without another word.

Jungkook heaved a defeated sigh and turned back to Yoongi. He flipped through the various envelopes he had been given. Past dues and final notices in among the junk. Just as they were about to walk toward the exit, a door on the opposite side of the hall opened, and a man stood against the door jam with his arms crossed.

"You looking for that little omega girl?" The tall man asked. Yoongi didn't need to smell him to know he was an alpha. He didn't want to smell him.

"Maybe. You know anything about her?" Jungkook replied vaguely.

"Y/N, right?" Jungkook gave a curt nod. "She lived across the hall for a year and a half. Three weeks ago she was evicted," the alpha informed him. Jungkook looked down at the late bills in his hand. That made sense.

"Any idea where she lives now? Or how to get in touch with her pack?" Yoongi chimed in.

The man gave an amused smile and shook his head. "This is not a place for people with packs," he answered with a gesture toward the general state of the place. "People in this building are usually lone wolves," he added. "Not that I didn't offer to help her with her heats, you know? I'm a helpful guy, especially for a pretty little omega like that."

Jungkook swallowed down the bile that rose in his throat while Yoongi merely stared the man down with a stoney look usually reserved for people who walked a little too close to Hoseok.

"Yeah, thanks for your help," Jungkook muttered as he walked past the man's door and down the hall toward the exit. Yoongi held his stance until Jungkook was a few paces ahead and then fell in line.

The drive back home was even more silent than before, and when they finally arrived they were surprised to find the house just as quiet. All five of their pack members were still awake, but no one spoke as Hoseok sat at the entrance to the hallway and stared down Namjoon and Taehyung. Jin cradled Jimin in his lap with his face buried in Jimin's scent gland. Or maybe it was Jimin that was holding him down.

"What's going on here?" Yoongi chuckled as he dropped his keys into the communal dish.

"These spoiled little alpha fucks have forgotten what the word no means," Hoseok replied, arms flexing as the crossed tightly over his chest.

"Is that so?" Yoongi asked with a raised brow.

"Yes, and just in case you've forgotten too: it means you cannot mount strange omegas without their consent, and consent cannot be given in the middle of heat," Hoseok said tightly.

"Jesus, did you jump her?" Jungkook asked, looking at his mates.

"No. We did not jump her!" Namjoon insisted just a little too forcefully.

"But you would have!" Hoseok fired back. "Alpha scum."

"You're acting like we're pigs or something," Taehyung grumbled.

"You are pigs," Jimin offered from behind him.

"You guys don't get it," Jin finally broke in, showing his face for the first time. "It's not like we want to fuck her. It's just a need. We are alphas, it's our duty to breed an omega in heat."

Yoongi shook his head as he joined his fellow alphas on the couch, squeezing in between Jin and Taehyung before pulling Jimin half-way into his lap to get a sniff because yeah, your scent had saturated every molecule of air inside the house. "Yeah, I don't think that's gonna fly this time, Jin."

"Look, we are doing our best to control ourselves here. Can you give us some credit?" Namjoon asked, but he only met with Hoseok's stony glare.

"Do you think her actual alphas will be thanking you for your bare minimum decency?" He turned his head to Jungkook. "Speaking of which, did you find them?"

Jungkook sat down near Hoseok and for once made an effort not to let his scent spread out, not until he could level himself out. The omega was on high alert, and didn't miss the pungent edge of mildew coming from him. Hoseok grabbed his sleeve and tugged until the beta scooted closer.

"What's wrong? What happened?" He urged as he ran fingers through Jungkook's hair.

The youngest sighed. "She doesn't live there but she used to. An old neighbor said she got evicted a few weeks back."

"No forwarding address?" Jin asked, fighting to keep his clarity.

"Neighbor said she was a 'lone wolf,'" Yoongi added, voice muffled by Jimin.

"Alone?" Someone echoed as Jungkook rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"That place…it was awful. Even though I see it all the time—I don't think. I come home every night and I let myself forget that there are people out there with no pack, who are struggling just to survive."

"Kookie," Hoseok cooed, rubbing a hand up and down his mate's back.

"We're very lucky," Jin agreed.

"There are so many loners these days. We're trying so hard to get kids into good packs, but it can be tough to find the right fit. And so many of them have trust issues or have never had a pack…they don't know what they're getting into at all. It scares me to think that could have been me," Jimin reflected. It was only a handful of years ago that a chance meeting with Yoongi had led him to his home. Jimin's light scent and lack of a family history often excluded him from groups and from forming proper bonds with other Lykos. He was the last to join their pack, but it was always a blessing.

The sadness filling the room and his mates caused panic to rise in Hoseok's chest. His fingers curled into Jungkook's shirt. "Maybe the neighbor was wrong. Maybe she moved out to move in with a pack!" He suggested with forced cheerfulness. "Did you find any other leads in her bag?"

Jungkook shook his head. "I didn't have a chance."

Hoseok popped to his feet. "I'll go get it from the room!" He paused as he turned. "Keep your eyes on those four," he added before padding to your door and closing it behind him in a futile attempt to keep your heavy scent inside.

"I was just reading an article today about how pack life is healthier for people. Omegas live 8 years longer on average as part of a pack than alone," Namjoon told them just to fill the silence. He was one of the lucky ones, like Jin, Hoseok, Tae and Jungkook, who had only ever known pack life. For them any other way seemed inconceivable. They'd gone from pups to their own mature pack without ever living one night on their own, but even the thought of it ached with unbearable loneliness. Lykos were not meant to be alone.

Hoseok returned a moment later, large black purse in hand.

"How is she?" Yoongi asked.

Hoseok gave a dramatic eye roll. "She's fine."

"Hyung," Tae whined.

"She's so fucking out of it she doesn't know where she is right now, Taehyung."

That did not soothe any of the alphas fraying nerves.

"Maybe we could just cuddle–"

"No." Hoseok cut Namjoon off. "You are not going in there for anything. End of discussion."

He dropped the bag on the floor in front of Jungkook, who opened it and began to carefully sort through your belongings. At the top of the bag was a change of clothes that he couldn't stop himself from taking a sniff of, catching your normal crisp apple scent instead of the gooey apple pie you were giving off tonight. The trace on the shirt was so faint it was almost drowned out among the other smells in the house.

"Let me smell it," Namjoon chirped before he could stop himself.

"Don't you feel embarrassed?" Hoseok returned quickly and harshly, and Namjoon cowed his head because he did.

Jungkook merely set the clothes to the side and continued to search. Next he pulled out two boxes of extra strength scent blockers, the kind that go inside your nose so you don't smell anyone around you, and then a bottle of scent spray that you bought at a Sap store. It smelled similar to your apple, but more artificial and layered with other scents.

"I guess this is how she passes," Jungkook mumbled as he set the items in front of Hoseok, who picked up the bottle and sniffed its top, wrinkling his nose at the chemical smell. Your scent was much nicer than that.

The pack's attention was drawn to a rattling sound before Jungkook pulled out a large plastic medicine bottle. He looked briefly at the label before shaking the bottle and then handed it to Hoseok.

"If she had a full bottle of heat suppressants, why did she go down like that?" Jungkook wondered aloud.

The omega beside him unscrewed the cap and shook a single pill into his hand. "Holy fuck! I didn't know they were this big! How does anyone swallow that?"

"Let me see?" Jimin asked. He was probably more familiar with heat suppressants than any other pack member because they were required in order to stay in pretty much any mixed-gender shelter, and even in many single-gender ones. Hoseok replaced the cap and tossed the bottle across the room. Jimin picked it out of the air with one hand and brought it down in front of him and Yoongi. "Where the fuck did she get these?" Jimin asked after reading the label.

"What is it?" Jungkook asked. It wasn't something he was particularly well-versed in since Hobi had never taken any. And he'd never had any other omega.

"I've only ever heard about these," Yoongi said, taking the bottle from Jimin. "Some omega activists are trying to get these banned. They have mega doses of hormones to stop heats, but they can cause permanent damage to an omega's reproductive system. I've also heard that most omegas don't like to take them unless they have to because the side effects are really harsh."

"I've heard rumors that some of the shelters give them out to omegas who want to stay," Jimin added.

"Is this one of them?" Jungkook asked when he found a crumpled flier in your bag. The paper showed a posed group of people wearing smiles outside a generic looking building in the downtown area. It also stated the hours of operation and contact information. Jimin held out a hand and Jungkook passed it through the alphas to him.

Jimin gasped quietly. "This is the worst shelter in town. The people who run this are fundamentalists who think that Lykos are abominations. They preach that we are unnatural and against god. Kids sometimes come to us from there and have said they were prevented from nesting or sharing beds with others. I'm sure they gave her these before letting her in but-" That didn't answer how you had ended up in your current state.

Jungkook thought he was going to be sick, and he wasn't alone.

"Why would anyone go to an organization like that?" Taehyung wondered, his hand sliding into Namjoon's.

"Some people don't have any choice," Jimin answered.

Everyone sat in quiet thought for a moment until the sound of Jungkook's sob broke from his chest. Six heads snapped in his direction, but only one spoke up.

"Jungkook, come here, baby," Jin said with arms held open. Jimin moved down to sit over Namjoon and Taehyung while Yoongi squeezed to make room for Jungkook. In spite of being a beta, Jungkook was just a little too large to sit comfortably in the pack alpha's lap, but he sat down and let Jin pull his legs over his lap and snuggled into his chest. "Tell alpha what's going on," Jin cooed.

Jungkook tried to calm his sobs, which got easier when Yoongi pressed himself against the beta's back. It took a minute before he was able to speak, but no one rushed him.

"I saw an omega get killed today," he finally said in a watery voice. "He was just a couple years younger than Y/N. He was alone and he was shot by some hateful Sap, for no reason. And all I could think at the time was where is his pack? Why didn't they protect him? But he didn't have a pack. There wasn't anyone to call. And then we found Y/N. And I just…why isn't there anyone to call?"

Jin hugged the man tighter to his chest and let him cry. "It's okay, Kook. Let it out. It's okay. There are four good alphas here and no one is going to get hurt," he assured in a soft voice.

Jungkook sucked in the deepest breath he could before he pulled away and leaned into Yoongi. "Sorry, it was kind of a fucked up day," he said as he wiped his eyes.

Yoongi gave his arm a squeeze, one that said he was sorry there were so many fucked up days, because Yoongi always knew more about them than the others, because sometimes Yoongi and Jungkook would lay in the nest in the spare room and whisper the things that haunted them before they could go to sleep.

"You should have told me before we went out, Kookie. We didn't have to go." Jimin reached a hand out across the alphas and Jungkook took it.

"I'm glad we did though." He didn't want to think what it would be like otherwise.

"Pup, you need to tell us when things are weighing on you like that," Hoseok chided, still rooted to his spot on the floor.

"I honestly can't bring that to you all the time," Jungkook admitted.

"We’re your pack, Jungkook-ah," Jin reminded him. "It's our job to share your burden, especially when it's too hard."

"I'll try."

Hoseok sighed. "It's late. Everyone, go to bed. We can decide what to do next in the morning."

No one argued with the omega. The tone of the conversation had dampened their yearning for you in the other room.

"Are you coming, my love?" Jin asked with an arm outstretched to pull him up.

Hoseok shook his head. "You all go on."

"Honey, you can't sit here all night."

"I'll get some things settled for her and then I'll sleep on the couch. No one will get past me."

Jin pouted. "But it won't be the same in the nest without you. You haven't even gotten a chance to build it up yet. How can we sleep there?" Seokjin always became so codependent when he was sleepy.

Hoseok's resolve cracked just a little.

"Hobi, you go up. I'll stay down here. I think I'd be more relaxed that way anyway," Jungkook suggested. It would be easier to rest if he knew you were safe from danger. Is this what it felt like to be an alpha all the time?

Hoseok grumbled but he was already giving in. "I can't let you go to sleep smelling like that."

With a wave of the omega's hand, all of his packmates gathered around Jungkook and marked wherever they could reach until he smelled like the unique blend of scents that to him smelled like home. When they finally backed away, Jungkook wore a dopey, scent-high smile, and Hoseok could go upstairs to his nest with one fewer worry.

Once they had all gone up to bed, Jungkook took a thick blanket from the hall closet that was too thick to use this time of year and laid it out on the floor in front of your door along with a pillow from the couch. He thought briefly about going in to check on you, but he honestly wasn't sure he would be able to stop himself from climbing in the nest to cuddle you. He couldn't stop thinking about the way they wouldn't let you sleep with others in the shelter, or how you had probably slept alone for at least a year and a half prior to that. But Hoseok was right about boundaries and consent, and he could be good if he just stayed on this side of the door. If you couldn't be comforted, you could at least be safe.

Permanent taglist: @halesandy @burningupp-replies @lilacdreams-00 @minclangyyy @yonkimint @wholockian1 @cbgdoll @babycoffeefire @theatren3rd @bri-mal @armytwist @hwayne2294 @crish-mac @hey-itsmina @jikooksgirl19 @jaiuneamesolitaiire @lxvelyjiminie @marvelfamily3000 @borahae-reads @shadowyjellyfishfest @yoongiigolden @staerryminimini @valhallawhispers

Taglist: @ellesalazar @rinkud @osakis-gf @scuzmunkie @queen-in-the-shadows @toughbook @zariaskz @chansbaybygirl @cryingpages @coralmusicblaze @alex--awesome--22 @singukieee @welcometomyworld13 @juju-227592 @bangtanflirt @wittyreader @nyrovieeie @welcome418 @guinhosletters @lifeistooshorttowasteyourtime @moon-cupcakes @passionandsuga @zvrjkb @m0v3m3ntsblog @kykyxstandler @writingwithmai @moocow778 @ladyalicesbookstore @yoonseokerist @deejay08 @momoasenthusiasticreader @littlestarstinyseven @bittersweetbaylee @irtiqa @im-sinking-in-mud

#bts a/b/o #bts omegaverse au #bts ot7 #bts poly au #bts series #bts fic #bts fan fiction #bts yoongi #bts jungkook #bts hobi #bts namjoon #bts jimin #bts jin #bts taehyung #bts x reader #bts angst #lone wolf #sopebubbles 🧼

981 notes · View notes