#but then i wrote just like me and i was like oh wait hold on maybe i can

[fun-k-board]

Happy New Year!! 🎉

If it's alright, could I request Loki Headcanons about a Shy Lover or Secret Admirer? I imagine something like that wouldn't stay secret for long, knowing Loki, but I love the idea of the Lover in question being flustered beyond belief at being found out 💕

MARVEL RIVALS - LOKI LAUFEYSON With a Shy Secret Admirer Headcanons!

Note(s): I'm sorry this came out a bit late, college stressed me out so bad my body and mind did a factory reset. I'll be trying to finish the rest of my requests weekly.

"Oh?" Loki's eyes are light, something unusual for the trickster. Almost eager, they flick between you and the paper that's held loosely in his hand, the usual hint of amusement in his upturned lips. "You wrote these? Well, I can't say I'm not flattered, but you are aware I've been courting you for quite some time, yes?"

You and Loki would most likely know each other prior to you becoming his secret admirer, after all, he is a bit of a flirt and you're most likely one of many that he's charmed over the years. But, for him to accept your proposal, which is how I intend to write this as to avoid angst, he would need to reciprocate your feelings. In short, he'd probably be actively courting you while you do this.

It'd mostly be insignificant things, not killing you, maybe paying you a compliment every now and then, and maybe, just maybe, if he's feeling generous he'll find it in his heart to give you a gift. Typically it's jewellery, something that reflects him, gold with green jewels are his favourite. Necklaces are a no brainer, they're so easy to spot, and it's so easy to tell who it's from, too (You'll be lucky if he doesn't engrave his name on the damn thing).

Of course, he loves to tease you. It's so fun to see you squirm and try to hide away, even if he can't see the effect of the blood rushing there, he likes to hold a hand to your face every now and then to see if it's hot. One of his favourites is to whisper plans of mischief, and maybe try and get you to tag along in his next prank or attempt to steal the throne, it depends on his mood, really.

Infuriatingly, however, you don't seem to pick up on his obvious flirtations. He immediately decides that's an issue on your part, but he'll indulge you and give an extra flirty, witty remark every now and then. Wait- you're still not- oh you frustrate him endlessly! He's got half a mind to smite you, you know!

The thing is, Loki enjoys a good mystery and a thrilling hunt, but what he wants most of all is to be adored, worshiped, have thousands at his feet begging and pleading just for him to spare them a glance. So, when he starts getting little trinkets wrapped in bows, with papers written full of heartfelt devotion... Well, how can a God refuse such wonderful praise?

It's around that time of annoyance and pining, his stubbornness refusing to allow him to confess first, you must make the first move as it's obviously you who is obsessed with him, that he actually begins to receive your gifts. In such random places too, sometimes even tucked in the pocket of his clothes! Not that he doesn't admire the bravery to do such a thing.

At first he doesn't really look deep into it, he's content to find the very obviously placed gifts and doesn't care much for where they're found. As long as he's getting the attention he rightfully deserves, he doesn't care who it's from. Why should he need to know who loves him when he's being loved either way?

But, when he does want to find out this secret admirer's identity, perhaps in a ploy to make you jealous and confess, it's when he realises that it's you. The handwriting, the way of speaking, grammar, punctuation, and the nail in the coffin is when he catches you placing a note in his quarters while invisible.

This works out brilliantly.

Not only does it confirm in Loki's mind that you're utterly infatuated and obsessed with him, but it makes him believe that you were secretly aware of his courting all along. That you, given your shy nature, had done this to play into his trickster personality. He can't say he isn't impressed by your wits! (Someone please get him a reality check...)

Naturally, Loki plans something sweet yet embarrassing for his your confession, and despite his want for love and attention, he supposes that he'll make it a private affair. After all, he does want you to admit your love for him and giving you a panic attack would probably only drive you away.

The gardens are certainly beautiful this time of day, not bright enough to burn your eyes but not dark enough so you can't see, it's perfect. Not to mention quiet. Many people prefer to admire the gardens after their meals, either in the morning or in the night, but strangely never the evening, which leaves you by yourself. It's peaceful.

Yet the peace, as usual, is interrupted by a certain prince.

You turn around when you hear your name being called, your brows shooting upwards when you realise it's Loki. What could he need? Is he planning another prank? No matter, either way you're clearly involved. So, you wave a friendly hand and hope that you can ignore the sickly butterflies in your stomach that flutter harder when the sound of his shoes click closer and closer towards you.

"I want to speak with you." Loki hums, coming to a halt only a meter away from you.

You ask what he wants to speak with you about and he searches in his pocket for a moment until he finds a small piece of paper, holding it out in his palm almost like an offering. It looks familiar. Hesitant, you feel your fingers pinch a corner and take it for yourself, dread setting in your stomach as you realise. He figured it out.

When you look up sharply to explain, his face is inches from yours. The action causes your cheeks to get unbelievably hot, and even if the blood rushing to your face isn't visible, Loki knows you, he knows your tells. "I admire your worship, darling." He whispers, eyes narrowing as a sly grin grows on his lips. "But I would prefer it to be in person."

[astarioffsimpmain]

Hi! Not sure if you're still taking requests, but if you are may I ask for "hold" with Gale?

(the hot wizard has me in a chokehold... 🙈)

Thank you!

Hey anon! I was still taking requests when you sent this in, so thank you for adding to my Gale pile (I love my Gale pile ❤️)! I am definitely feeling this one today. 🥰

BTW, he has me in a chokehold too. 👀

This blurb was inspired by this post.

♡♡♡

Thunder cracked outside and you jumped a little, startled out of your task by the sound and the aforementioned rumble. You smiled, shooting a glance towards the window. A thunderstorm on an autumn night like this was fitting, considering your plans. You spooned the last of the sugary drizzle onto the freshly baked cinnamon rolls you'd pulled out of the oven and brushed your hands together. You grabbed a towel to cover them before heading upstairs, hoping the scent hadn't wafted far enough to reach your lover's library.

You pushed open the large wooden door with your shoulder, and your heart swelled at the sight of him. He was lounging on the plush settee near one of the windows, glasses on his nose and papers in hand. He chuckled, tsk-ing and shaking his head at one student's mistake, and wrote a note in the margins. You smiled. You were certain his students tired of his inability to reply in a short manner, but you could never get enough of him. You would happily listen to him talk for hours, never ceasing to be pulled in by the smooth, practiced sound of his voice. It was the sea, and he, your anchor.

"My love," you called softly and his eyes flicked to you.

"Ah! I wondered what smelled so heavenly. I was intending to come down to check on you once I finished this paper. It seems you have reached me first." He smiled with a warmth that could melt all the glaciers in Cania as he rose to meet you. His hands fell to your hips and gave them a squeeze while he leaned precariously across the dish of hot baked goods to press his lips to yours. You hummed against them happily, your eyes falling closed as you were wrapped up in the comfort of him. When he pulled back, he gazed down at you, his eyes soft and filled with love. "Come here," he murmured, steering you towards the settee. "Set those down on the side table. They'll need to cool before we indulge. However," his finger shot up as he gave you a mischievous smile. "I know of something we can indulge in whilst we wait."

"Oh?" you smiled. Gods, you loved this man. "And what might that be, Mr. Dekarios?"

"Why, Mrs. Dekarios, I am quite certain you already know."

~

Tagging, Darlings: @knightofmight01 @micropoe10 @fanon-and-canon @just-a-refrigerator @worfs-glorious-hair @senualothbrok @nerissa-dekarios

[champagnecherryblossom]

•Immortality and Desires: His Tiredness, Her willingness•

Pairing | seungmin x fem!reader

Word Count | 1,468

Summary | After centuries of living, life begins to grow dull. Work was no exception.

Warnings | vampire au, vampire!seungmin, fem!vampire!reader, blood, biting, raw (wrap it up), creampie, multiple orgasms, praises, pet names, overstimulation.

A/N - twt link at the end, I had fun writing this one. (sorry for the wait hehe.) any misspelling- I wrote this past midnight lol.

Seungmin was the best of many, he knew just how to make you feel good. Whether it be in bed or just in general. What you loved most was how he’d come home overstimulated from a busy work day, something about him just being completely agitated turned you on completely.

Oh don’t even get me started, Seungmin had the prettiest cock. Average, and fat tip that was likely to hit all the right spots. God just the thought made you wet. That wasn’t even the start, the feeling of his fangs puncturing the cold flush of your own as he groans with each rough thrust he made. God, how badly you needed him right now.

With a whine, you looked at the time. Seungmin should be home soon, it was half past 5. Just a little longer, you thought.

Unable to resist the aching feeling between your legs. You began to rub yourself through the new pair of laced tan panties you had on, a wet spot visible. A clear sign of your arousal.

“Fuck… get home already.” You complained. You’re teeth nipping at your lips, trickling a bit of blood from your lips. Moaning, you threw your head back gently against the sofa as you rubbed yourself with a bit more pressure.

You always got so greedy well touching yourself, you also had a habit of just wearing underwear and a tank top around your place. Bra-less and all. That was what Seungmin loved most, easy access.

Thrusting your hips up, you swiftly pulled your panties off as you began to finger yourself with an unforgettable pace. You made yourself see stars, ones similar to the ones Seungmin easily made you see. Just then, the doorknob could be heard juggling before the door swung open causing you to freeze mid-pleasure.

“I’m back-“ Seungmin froze once his eyes landed on the sight of you, you looked so fuckable. So much so that he was already growing hard. His cock throbbed against his confinement.

“What a show. Go on, keep going.” He smirked as he shut the door, his eyes never leaving your glistening pussy that looked so desperate to be used and abused. Slowly, you began to figure yourself again. Your eyes never leaving Seungmin’s.

“Fuck.” He groaned. He couldn’t wait to get a taste of you, in blood and in arousal. He was always a little greedy in this department.

“What to do…” He dropped all he had at the door, his shoes being kicked off and his pull over hoodie being tossed to the floor to be forgotten until later.

Looking down at you, Seungmin watched you play with yourself. The bit of blood that stained your bottom lip sent a wave of arousal through his already restraining body making it hard for him to hold back.

“You have no idea how much I wanna fuck you right now.” He almost let out a growl which was unusual. You knew Seungmin was really going through it, that today wasn’t the best of work days. This only sent more arousal through you as you pulled your fingers out and rubbed your hard needy clit.

“Oh god…” you moaned, your other hand going to play with your tit all the while Seungmin watched like a pervert.

Despite just starting the pleasure of fun, you were close. Seungmin watching always sent you closer to the edge. Something about him just standing there hard, and with a smirk that looked nothing but a sickly pleasuring one, was enough to push you over the edge.

“Go on, cum.” He paused, before kneeling down in front of you to get a better view of your pussy.

“I’ll let you have a taste later.” The thought of finally having a taste of him was so overwhelming that you came. You’re clear slick gushed out as you moaned and trembled from your orgasm.

Laying there for a moment to calm down, you looked at Seungmin. His red orbs locked on your own. He was beyond excited now. And you knew that, all too well. Moving in the slightest, you sat up as you pulled him into an aggressive and desperate kiss that was sure to leave nip marks later on.

Groaning, Seungmin lifted you up in a swift movement. His hands gripped your thighs as he carried you to the bedroom and laid you on the bed before spreading your legs apart and slipping his fingers inside your already gaping hole, he curled his two digits and rapidly hit your g-spot.

“Wait-!” You moaned out, you weren’t ready for more pleasure just yet. You haven’t fully recovered from your first orgasm. Seungmin of course didn’t care, I mean he did. Just not when you looked like this.

“Shh.” He whispered against your ear before placing gently kisses against your neck. You knew what was to come, you anticipated his next move like a starved child. Waiting and waiting with each peck he gave your skin, until he finally puncture his fangs into your cold flush and sucked.

He was feeding off you, like you guys always did. It didn’t matter if you guys were both cold blooded, he didn’t care enough if it wasn’t the norm for your kind to do such act. What mattered was that you guys found pleasure in. That’s all it was. Maybe…

For a moment, you’ve almost forgotten that he was fingering you. Trying to bring you to yet another orgasm. The feeling was overwhelming yet you didn’t try to push or pull away from him. You let him use you.

“Seungmin…” You gasped out a moan. Your body shaking from the pleasure and without warning you came again. You’re hands wrapping around his wrist to keep his hand where you wanted it to be. He was more than happy to oblige.

“Two times in a row, such a good girl for me huh?” Seungmin said once he released your neck from his bite. Licking the wound, Seungmin pulled away from you. His hand slipping from your grip as he began to strip from his clothes.

Watching like a hawk, you took in every inch of his body. He was slim but built perfectly in the right spots. As he pulled his boxers down with his pants, his cock stood tall and proud against his lower abdomen. His tip leaked of pre-cum, throbbing with need.

“I want you to work.” He smirked. Laying on the bed beside you, he gripped his cock as he stroked himself. His eyes always on you, waiting oh so patiently for you to move.

Nodding, you moved. Aligning yourself on top of his tip, you rubbed yourself against him. Your wet folds coating his head. Without a second thought you penetrated yourself, his length slipping into your needy hole easily.

“Fuck… Seungmin…” You moaned as you began to move. Your head thrown back as you rode his cock.

Groaning Seungmin met with your movements with his own as he thrusts up into you, the feeling was unforgettable. The stress of his day slipping away with each stroke that was made. Leaning down, you kissed and nipped at his chest moving up before biting down on his neck, your fangs digging into his skin as you sucked.

The blood flowed into your mouth, your movements stuttered as he took control. His hands gripping your hips as he thrusted up into you, his mind in a haze as he focused on your bite but the pleasure he was feeling. Oh how much he loved when you fed off him during intimacy.

“Just like that, fuck.” He praised on. Licking the wound. You went on to riding him again.

Seungmin couldn’t handle it anymore, flipping you onto your back. He placed you into a mating press before brutally pounding into you. His cock reaching spots he’s hit many times before. His free hand reaching down as he began to rub tight fast circles against your clit, urging you to your third climax.

“Come on, baby girl.” He praised once more, he knew just what to do and say to get you to fall over the edge. And it worked every fucking time.

As you had your third orgasm, Seungmin didn’t stop his pounding. He was so lost in his own pleasure and race to his own release that he continued to rub your clit despite the overstimulation you felt.

“To… much.. uh…” You whined as you try to pull from him, but he held you still. He was close. So close that with one finally thrust, he buried himself deep inside you as he dumped his seeds into you.

“We aren’t finished yet.” He chuckled as he rode out his high. You knew he meant it, and that got you even more excited

[ann-non]

SVT reactions on finding out their partner reading smut

Author’s note : it truly has been a while since I posted anything at all.. I honestly have been passively using tumblr. I hadn't been motivated much to write even though I have ideas in my head. I wish I can write more, but for now I'm just gonna focus on my life and post on rare occasions like this when I feel like it. This one is just a sudden thought because some ppl at work are making this book club but they’re sharing all these high literature books. Like no hate, it just requires more brain power for me to read, so I don’t read them as often and I gravitate more to those easy to read spicy romantasies if you catch my drift. But anyway, they don’t need to know what I read in my free time so I just pretend I didn’t see anything lol But yea, it got me thinking about how SVT members would react when they found out the kind of literary corn their partner is reading hihihihihi Obviously, this is just a work of fiction, in no way I know how they would actually react and I wrote this solely for entertainment purposes. Please enjoy and lemme know what you think!

Rating : not sure how to rate this. I guess, there are some innuendos, but nothing explicit.

S.Coups

He walks into the room, sees you quickly shut your book, and immediately gets suspicious. "What are you reading?" He reaches for it, but you hold it tight. Now he has to know. When he finally peeks at a passage, his whole face goes red. He stammers, "I—uh—I didn’t see anything!" and power walks out like he’s on a mission. Later that night, he awkwardly asks, "So… Can I borrow it when you’re done?”

He immediately notices the playful glint in your eyes and before you could say anything, he quickly added, “It’s nothing, I’m just curious!”

Jeonghan

This man is a menace, he’ll have a field day. He would say things so casually just to watch you implode and be like “Aha~ so that’s what you like~” Before you can react, he snatches the book and starts reading out loud in the most dramatic voice possible. "‘His hands traced down her—’ Oh? Interesting." If you try to take it back, he holds it above your head and laughs. Later, he leans in, whispers with that shit eating smirk of his, "I should start using your books as references, huh?" and leaves you completely speechless. And the worst (best) part? He’d bring it up at random times too, like when you're least expecting it. "Hey, which chapter was your favorite? Asking for research purposes." 💀

Joshua

Bro is blushing when he reads what you were reading. He doesn’t expect that kind of scene when he joins you in bed and then reads along with you out of boredom. "My goodness… Is this what you love to read?" You, unaware that he was reading behind your shoulders all along, quickly closed your book as blush crept all over your face. "I—uh—I didn’t mean to intrude!" He hugged you and encouraged you to keep reading as he pulled you closer. But later, as he was on his phone with one hand while the other wrapped around you, he suddenly muttered, "So… do you, um, read those often?" and instantly regrets asking. He’s too polite to tease, but his brain is racing trying to process it.

Jun

Your book was laying on the table unattended as you were busy with your phone. Jun slowly picks it up, reads a line, and gives you a knowing smirk. "Ah… so this is what you like?" He savors your embarrassment. "You should’ve just told me~" Then, for the rest of the day, he randomly brings it up— "Would you like me to act out a scene for you?" Like he would say it completely seriously with that innocent but dangerous glint in his eyes. He’d lean in, smirk, and be like, "You know… I’m pretty flexible. We could test it out, purely for science." And then just grin knowingly when you start blushing.

Hoshi

He gasps so loudly you think something is wrong. "BABY. WHAT IS THIS?!" He dramatically grabs his chest like he’s about to faint. But then he gets curious. "Wait… lemme see that." Next thing you know, he makes it a whole event. He’d flop down next to you, stretch dramatically, and be like, "Okay, hear me out—I could definitely do this." Then he’d actually start attempting the position in the middle of the room, while you’re just sitting there face palming at his antics, "Babe… please—" 

Wonwoo

Wonwoo would glance at your book, read a few lines, and then give you that poker face of his. Then, with the straightest face, he’d say, "Is the writing good, or do you just read it for the plot?" You stammer, and he smirks, "I should borrow it next. Expand my literary horizons." He won’t tease you outright, but you’ll catch him randomly quoting suggestive lines just to see your reaction. "Ah, so this is what you meant by 'intense character development'? 😏" 

Woozi

He catches a glimpse of your book and immediately looks away. Ears red. He pretends he didn’t see anything, but later, he can’t help but ask, "So, uh… that book. What is it about?" If you try to explain, he’ll awkwardly nod and mumble, "Yeah. Okay. Got it." But if you tease him, "Do you want to read it with me?" he will malfunction on the spot. "Wh—NO. I mean—why would I—" and then he’ll be avoiding eye contact for the rest of the week. Dude is traumatized lmao

DK

He sees the book, skims a sentence, and literally jumps back like he got electrocuted. "WAIT—IS THIS—?!?!" His face is pure shock. "BABE, I THOUGHT YOU WERE INNOCENT!" He covers his eyes like he just walked in on something scandalous. But later, when you’re reading again, he peeks over your shoulder and whispers, "…What’s happening now?" He’d stare at the page, tilt his head, then look at you like, "Wait… is that physically possible? Are human spines supposed to bend that way?" Then he’d probably try to reenact the pose just to prove his point, and now you’re sitting there watching your boyfriend nearly sprain his back because of a book. He’d pause, look at you with wide eyes, and say, "Okay but… HOW?! Like, WHERE are their legs at this point??" Then he’d proceed to read the entire passage out loud just to make it sound even more ridiculous, laughing so hard he can’t breathe, but then he keeps reading because "Now I need to know how it ends." 

Mingyu

He’d walk in, glance over your shoulder, and freeze. Then, after a solid three seconds of silence, he’d gasp so loud and grab his chest dramatically like he’s in a K-drama. "WAIT. HOLD ON. A REVERSE HAREM?? AM I NOT ENOUGH FOR YOU??"

He’d literally act heartbroken, pacing around the room, muttering things like:

"I give you all my love, all my attention, and THIS is how you repay me?!"

"So what, you want four more guys? Is this why you’ve been reading so much lately?"

"IS IT BECAUSE I CAN’T MULTIPLY?!" 

And if you try to explain, he’s not hearing it. He’s already on his phone googling “how to kagebunshin no jutsu” while fake-sniffling in the corner. Bro is dramatic AF, but then he’s also the type to proceed to borrow the book (for research purposes he said), and end up getting way too into it. He’d come back blushing and stuttering like, "Sooooo I read it… and uh… I have some thoughts?? 😳"

The8

He’d glance at the book, shrug, and say, "Cool, do you like it?" before going back to whatever he was doing. But if you explain the plot, he might actually get curious and ask more questions in a totally nonchalant way. And when you least expected he would be like, "Hmm, it actually sounds kinda interesting… Can I read it after you?" but completely unbothered, like he’s asking for a normal book. He'd probably even come back after reading the book like, "Honestly, the plot wasn’t bad. The world building was solid. 4,3 stars out of 5"

He would even be willing to have an open discussion about the book and dissect it if you wish to. BUT!! He'd still take his chance to tease you by randomly dropping spicy one-liners just to fluster you. "I see why you liked chapter 12. 😏" 

Seungkwan

The moment Seungkwan catches you reading a spicy book, he already knows something is up. You’re too focused, flipping pages way too fast, and your expressions keep shifting between wide eyes and bitten lips. His senses are tingling. So, of course, he just has to know.

"EXCUSE ME—WHAT ARE YOU READING?!" He snatches the book, skims a paragraph, and squeals. "OH MY— SWEETIE, THIS IS FILTHY!"

But then, it happens, the performance of his life aka reading it out loud dramatically while also reacting in real time.

“He traced his fingers down her—OH MY GOD, WHY IS IT STARTING LIKE THIS?!” 

"His breath was hot against her ear as he whispered—" he pauses to look at you, scandalized. Cue his signature BOMBASTIC side eyes. "WHAT KIND OF LITERATURE IS THIS?!"

"She gasped as she felt his— NOPE. NOPE. NOT IN MY HOUSE."

But it doesn’t stop there. Oh no—he’s acting out the dialogue like he’s in a full-blown historical drama.

One moment, he’s dramatically dropping his voice to play the male lead, "You don’t know how long I’ve wanted you, my love." 

Then, without missing a beat, he switches to a high-pitched, breathless tone to play the female lead. "B-but what if someone hears us?!" 

He keeps reading, while still adding his own commentaries.

"Excuse me, WHERE are their hands right now???"

"Are they in a library? A CHURCH?! Oh, these people are going straight to JAIL."

"How is she still standing after that? I would’ve collapsed three pages ago."

He gasps, clutches his chest, and falls to the floor like he’s been fatally wounded by the sheer audacity of the scene. Meanwhile, you are absolutely DONE. You’re trying to snatch the book away, but he’s holding it above his head like he’s holding the last piece of food at a buffet.

 "OH NO, I NEED TO KNOW HOW THIS ENDS."

And yes, he will never let you live this down. He will bring it up at the worst possible moment. "Hey guys, did I tell you about the time I caught y/n reading a BOOK OF SIN?"

Vernon

He walks in, glances at the book, and just goes, "Oh, cool." That’s it. No reaction. No judgment. Just vibes. Later, when you're talking about books, he casually asks, "So is that one of your favorites?" You choke on your drink, and he just nods, "Nice." The next time you’re reading, he randomly goes, "Oh, this one is a classic  slow burn enemies to lovers trope. Good tension." You looked at him in shock at the realization that your boyfriend had read the book before and he just looked back at you with his usual laid back expression. “What? Did I say anything weird?”

Dino

He stares at the book, then at you, then back at the book. "Oh. Um. Cool." But five minutes later, he suddenly blurts, "But WHY do you read that?!" He’s so confused, but he tries to act mature about it. However, if you tease him, "Do you want to read it with me?" he IMMEDIATELY runs away, only to come back literally a minute later. He’s a little hesitant, but curiosity wins. He’d be like, "Wait… is that what people are reading these days?" and next thing you know, he’s HOOKED.

End note : obviously, I got carried away with Seungkwan’s. 🤣

[musicfeedsmysoul12]

Ok for the au stories fullmetal alchemist/ Harry Potter… Ed adopting a female Harry and teaching her to be a badass

Female Harry loves her grandma Izumi

Harriet Potter was an odd girl. She looked normal. Long black hair always in a braid, a fondness for red that occupied her wardrobe, big green eyes. But the fact was she was odd. She wore red yes but also the strangest sort of jewelry. Huge skull rings, tacky necklaces and clothing that one Muggleborn commented looked like it came right from Hot Topic, whatever that was.

She was ridiculously smart, and fond of debating with her teachers about everything. Her reaction to Transfiguration as a loud ‘what the actual fuck’ lived on in Hogwarts history but she also excelled in it. She even did well in potions despite Snape being… himself.

She was foul mouthed but incredibly polite to McGonagall, Pomphrey and Sprout. She always was writing in her notebook and loved to study but also tossed the books to the side to have fun.

Ron liked it. Hermione, other then disliking the cursing alongside the lack of respect for the male teachers, liked Harriet to. Or Harry as she told them to call her.

“Wait what?” Harry said as she flipped through a rather large book. “What the… fucking hell!” She jumped up and took off. “Gotta Owl my dad!”

“Who did take her in?” Hermione wondered out loud. “According to everyone she lived with her aunt and uncle but she said she was taken from them by the authorities.”

“Huh?” Ron hadn’t heard that. Hermione nodded.

“I asked her some stuff about London and she told me she’d lived in Amestris since she was six because a Military Officer took her from her relatives when they were being arrested,” Hermione said.

“Amestris?” Percy asked, having been walking by. “The only All Magical country?”

“Harry says it does have Muggles they just don’t hold with keeping magic a secret because they’re under a military dictatorship and most magical people have to register,” Hermione said. “She did say the laws are loosening after a revolt about fifteen years back…”

“Seventeen,” Harry was back with her owl on her shoulder. The girl sat down to begin to write. “Can’t believe a Philospher’s Stone…” she muttered.

“Oh! Nicholas Flamel! Yeah he’s right famous for being the one person-“ Percy began but Harry snorted.

“Amestris has a few people who made one. My dad even figured it out.” She told Percy bluntly. “And it’s foul.”

“Wait, really?” Hermione asked in surprise. Percy didn’t look like he believed it as Ron simply watched Harry.

“Yeah. Also, turn lead into gold?” Harry stopped writing to grab a new piece of paper she drew a circle on and then wrote what looked like runes down. She grabbed a pencil lead Hermione had (she used something called mechanical pencils which were kinda cool) and placed it in the circle.

Harry clapped her hands and touched the circle, causing a blue glow to envelope the lead. When it was done, a golden rod lay where the lead was. Percy stared in open mouth shock.

“Gold isn’t hard for any alchemist to do. It’s just illegal in Amestris and England actually. The only good thing Flamel did was claim the Stone was the only way,” Harry said. “I have to turn it back, but you can scan it to prove it.”

“Why is it illegal?” Ron asked, staring at the lead hungrily.

“Economics. To much gold added to the economy causes prices to rise,” Harry explained. “Things get more expensive and money becomes useless.” She let Percy verify what the thing was before she turned it back to lead.

“What else is wrong with the Stone?” Hermione asked.

“How it’s made. My dad and Uncle figured out how and were so disgusted they backed out of their goals,” Harry said grimly. “Alchemy is equivalent exchange. I can’t make things out of nothing. Conjured items here don’t last either,” Harry sounded relieved when she said that, “as you’re offering energy. But Alchemy is a science. Not magic. My other Uncle, Roy, he’s a Muggle but he can use Alchemy. All you need is what goes in.”

“Whoa!” Ron was impressed but then a thought struck him. He felt his face go pale as Hermione asked about what kind of Alchemy Roy did. “Wait… what’s Equivalent for a long life?”

Harry looked at him grimly. “A few hundred years ago Xerxes was destroyed in a single night. No one knew who had done it, not until seventeen years ago when Amestris nearly met the same fate. A man, no a monster had done it. Created a Philosopher’s Stone. He used Xerxes.”

“No…” Ron said as Hermione huffed.

“What does that mean?” The girl asked.

“A life for a life,” Percy said, his voice shaking. Harry nodded.

“So if Flamel is over six hundred years old… who did he kill for his Stone?” Harry asked quietly.

[mommyslittlebird]

Mommy needs you

Bottom!Stepmom!Wanda x Stone!Reader

After a long day of teasing, you finally decide to treat your clearly desperate stepmom, Wanda, to a reward.

CW: Stepmom/Stepdaughter, cheating, dirty talk, humiliation, blowjobs, voyeurism, mentions of bondage, Wanda has a penis. MDNI.

Word count: 1.8k

A/N: I have to go to work in like 4 hours but I was consumed with ✨thoughts✨. Writing blowjobs is so hard because it means one of your characters can’t talk 😭. I wrote this like 5 different times before I got to a version I actually liked, and still the end was a bit rushed, but I hope you enjoy anyway.

In her defense, you had been teasing her all evening. The way you’d licked the whisk clean, using the hot kitchen as an excuse to strip down to little more than just an apron, a few too many two-finger-taste-tests, giving her two of your fingers for taste tests of her own. You really couldn’t blame her.

Still, you couldn’t hold back a smirk as you sat across from her and your father at the kitchen table. Luckily, your father paid little attention to either of you as he hurriedly wolfed down his dinner in preparation for his night shift at work. He hadn’t even been downstairs for half an hour before he was throwing his coat over his shoulders.

“Alright,” he sighed in the same tone he used before he left every night. He always made it sound like he was leaving for 8 months when he’d only be gone 8 hours. You wished he’d leave for 8 months. “It’s time for me to head out.” He bent over and kissed Wanda’s forehead, which was noticeably sweatier than usually. “Get some rest, both of you!” He called before walking out the door, leaving you and your stepmother alone.

A small giggle escaped your lips as your stepmother turned to face you. She looked nothing short of pathetic, breathless as she practically humped the wooden dining chair. You stood up, circling the table to stand behind her. “Did you enjoy your dinner mommy?” you asked, nuzzling her neck while you ran your hand down the front of her pink sweater.

She bit her lip. “Mhm,” she groaned, grinding further into her chair as your lips met her neck.

“Mmm you seemed like you were enjoying it,” you teased, kissing up under her ear. “Can I get you anything else? Dessert, perhaps?”

“Please detka,” she moaned. As your hand got lower and lower, her hips started to buck up against it instead of down against the chair.

You reached between her legs, lightly tracing her bulge with the tips of your fingers. “Aww poor mommy. I bet this needy little cock can’t wait for another course can it? It must hurt so bad rubbing up against this denim, hmm?” You gently squeezed the fabric for emphasis.

“N-no. Please detka, I need you,” she stammered.

“Aww does mommy need her little girl to take care of her?” you feigned sympathy.  She nodded eagerly. “Tell me mommy. Tell me how bad you need me.” You kept massaging her through her pants.

“Please. Oh please, I’m so hard for you it hurts. Please, I need your mouth, your hands, anything please!”

“Shh mommy it’s okay. I’m gonna take good care of you. Let’s just get you to the couch, okay?”

To your surprise, Wanda didn’t protest. She stood up on shaking legs and made her way to the living room, laying out a blanket before sitting down. You followed close behind her, heart racing as she wordlessly followed your directions. You could see the desperation in her green eyes. How could you not give her exactly what she wanted?

You stroked her hair out of her face, meeting her gaze. “I’m going to take such good care of you, mommy. Just lay down. Just like that.” You guided her head down on to a couple pillows you had grabbed.

She was already in the process of kicking out of her jeans to reveal a lacy pair of pink panties: one��s she had stolen from you. Her dick was straining uncomfortably against the fabric, leaking precum from the tip that threatened to escape through the leg hole. “Aww mommy, you’ve made a mess of my panties. It’s okay. I’ll forgive you just ‘cause they look so pretty on you. Do you wear my panties when you play with yourself?”

Wanda’s whole face reddened. She did, and you knew that after catching her late one evening with her cock and a light blue thong in her hand. The thought that she got off to the thought of you even when you weren’t around sent a shot of pleasure between your own legs. She nodded bashfully.

“That’s very naughty of you, mommy. Getting yourself off to the thought of your little girl’s pussy,” you teasingly scolded. “Maybe for that you deserve to have these little panties shoved in your mouth, hmm?” You chuckled darkly, toying with the waistband. “Maybe we’ll save those for later, when your pretty little brain can’t come up with any more words.”

You pulled the fabric down, smirking as her already twitching cock sprung out. You were practically salivating at the way a thin trail of precum dripped down from the tip like melted wax from a candle.  “Mommy you have the prettiest little cock in the whole entire world,” you started, kissing a trail up her shaft. When you got to the top you opened your mouth wider, allowing the tip to creep in past your lips. You moaned at her taste.

She groaned and allowed her head to roll back. It was a gorgeous sight, the way her hips arched away from the sofa to force her further down your throat. You greedily accepted every inch, bobbing your head so far down the tip hit the back of your throat. Your eyes rolled back as you took her down to hilt, reaching your hand up to fondle her balls.

“Oh that’s it sweet girl, you're making mommy feel so good. Keep going just like that.” It took all her strength to keep her head up, but the beautiful sight between her legs made it all worth it. “You look so pretty with my cock in your mouth detka. You’re mommy’s pretty girl.”

She thrust her hips up desperately into your mouth, causing you to gag and sputter around her. Saliva fell from your open mouth, sloppily covering her shaft. “Fuck, you’re making such pretty noises,” she whined. You pinned her hips to the sofa, mostly stilling her hips from her needing rutting. She whimpered, looking like she might cry if you stopped now.

Naturally, you stopped, lifting your head and moving to nip at her thighs.

“No! No, please!” she begged. “I’ll stay still. I’ll be good, I promise.”

You kissed her balls, sucking the skin into your mouth while stroking her shaft with your hand. “Shh,” you soothed. “You’re being all perfect and needy for me. I just need you to last a little bit longer, okay?” You rubbed her tip with the pad of your thumb, wiping away the dribbling precum.

She nodded, defeated but determined to behave. She attempted to still her hips but she couldn’t help but buck up into your hand.

You rested your head innocently on her thigh. “You're just so pathetic and desperate for me aren’t you? You need your little girl to milk your little cock for for you?” you teased. She nodded, propping herself up on her elbows.

Determined to knock her back down, you took her length back in your mouth. You closed your lips around her, sucking and licking the tip. She cried out and fell back against the pillows. Satisfied, you picked up the pace, going just as fast as you'd been going before

She wiped away the hair that clung to your sweaty forehead. She wanted to see the look in your eyes, and she was not disappointed when your blown out pupils met hers. “Keep looking at me detka. Mommy’s gonna cum for you. You want to watch mommy cum?”

You nodded eagerly. She had lasted longer than you’d expected, even though it had still been less than 10 minutes. Her hips stammered pathetically as she filled your mouth with her cum. You swallowed, determined not to miss a drop. You felt her go soft in your mouth and finally lifted your head, watching as trails of spit dripped down her cock.

“Oh you were so needy for me, weren’t you mommy? You came so fast for me.” you teased, lightly grazing her sides with your fingernails. Her body shivered in response.

“Yes, detka. Thank you, you made mommy feel so good.” She was breathless, staring open mouthed at the ceiling as she laid limp against the pillows.

“Mmm you tasted so good, mommy.” You eased her sweater up slowly, kissing a wet trail from her stomach up her chest. You took one of her nipples into your mouth, sucking and flicking fetherlight touches with your tongue.

“Mm carefully sweetheart,” she warned. “You know how sensitive mommy gets after- ah!” You cut her off with a sharp squeeze to her other nipple.

“Mommy?” you asked. “Do you think you have any more cum left for me?” You knew from experience that Wanda usually couldn’t get hard a second time in the same night, but you thought it was worth an ask anyway.

She chuckled. “No more, honey. Not tonight. Sorry you didn’t get to play with mommy for so long. That’s what you get for teasing all day.”

You whined, finding your way back to her overly sensitive nipple. “‘s okay,” you reassured. You contented yourself to keep playing with her chest, lazily circling your tongue around her skin, sucking and flicking her bud with the tip of your tongue. After a few minutes, she gently pulled you back, wincing as her abused nipple was exposed to the chill air. You moved to the other nipple, but you were stopped by Wanda pulling the sweater back down, tucking it under your head.

“Do you want mommy to play with you tonight?” she asked.

You thought for a moment. You rarely derived any pleasure from anyone touching you directly. You still let Wanda’s needy hands wander, but it was more for her pleasure than yours. If she was super good for you, sometimes you’d let her watch you masterbate. Other times you were just very loud and left the door open a little bit so she would catch you. You loved to pretend you didn’t notice her as she jerked off through the crack in the door. The thought gave you an idea. You grinned sadistically.

“I think,” you started, tracing your finger up over her sweater, “I might like to have you all tied up on my bed while I touch myself.”

She moaned at the unexpected proposal.

“Do you think you’d like that? To watch me get myself off to your pathetic body while you can do nothing but squirm around?” you asked. You watched her eyes dilate at your words. “My pervy stepmommy, watching her little girl fuck herself. I bet that’d make you all needy and desperate all over again.”

You stood up next to the couch, reaching out your hand for her to take. You helped her up. She moved to get redressed, but grabbed her wrist when she went to put her (your) panties back on, snatching them out of her hand.

“Nuh uh,” you chided. “These are going in your mouth.”

[xoxomirrorball]

Daddy's Girl

hawaiian!percy jackson x fem!reader

Aged-up characters, college-age (23-24 ish)

Accidental pregnancy mentions + the things that come with pregnancy/birth, mentions/implications of sex

pt. 2 to Oh Shit, can be read standalone

——————————————————————————————

One thing nobody expected of Percy Jackson, savior of Olympus, was for him to be a picture-perfect girl dad. Everyone had assumed he’d be too rash for a daughter, expecting too much and putting too much pressure on her. But in actuality, it was the complete opposite. 

When you two went in for your first appointment, Percy had almost broken down at the sight of the small figure on the doctor’s monitor. He took the ultrasound photo and framed it, setting it on his dresser.

The appointment where they found the gender out is one of the days Percy would consider the best in his life. When the doctor announced you were having a little girl, he squeezed your hand and said, “I just won that bet with Jason and Piper.”

You sat between Percy’s legs on his dorm room floor. You were balancing your laptop on your ever-growing baby bump, googling baby names.

“I want something Greek but also for Zoë, you know?” you said.

“Yeah, me too. Her middle name could be Hawaiian?” He suggested. you looked up at him and smiled, nodding and kissing him on the cheek.

At your baby shower, the gender was announced to the guests and people wrote letters for her to open once she turns 18. Sally gave you both the biggest hug. What you didn’t know was that she handed Percy her mother's engagement ring, telling him that he had her blessing. Since she knew that your parents would hardly care for blessings or your wedding, Sally figured you would. You were already like her daughter.

When you went into labor a bit after your due date and facing some non life-threatening complications, Percy was by your side. He almost lost his mind when he couldn’t stay by your side for the c-section. Annabeth, Sally, Piper, Reyna, and Jason came running in soon after. They all sat patiently, Sally and Annabeth working on grounding Percy. They knew it’d been tough since Percy went to Tartarus all those years ago, especially since you two hadn’t spent more than 20 minutes apart since you became pregnant.

After a grueling amount of time spent in the waiting room, the doctor finally came out. Everyone looked in his direction at once, Percy standing up and preparing for the worst, just in case.

“Congratulations on a healthy, baby girl,” the doctor exclaimed, “you may go see y/n, but please only three at a time.” Percy sank into his mother's arms in relief before jogging down the hallway to your room. Everyone followed at a much slower pace, allowing you two much-needed bonding time with your baby.

“Hey Angel,” he greeted, entering the room.

There, on the chest of the love of his life, laid a beautiful baby with a head full of dark black hair and the dark, bronzed skin of her parents.  

“She looks just like you,” your sleepy voice said, “she just finished eating, wanna hold her?” 

“Of course I do,” he came closer to your bedside and kissed both of your heads, “but first how are you feeling?”

“M’good, just tired. Take your shirt off, lady says it’s important for skin to skin,” you commanded, eyes closed.

“Yes ma’am,” he chuckled and took off his shirt, picking up the baby gently.

“Be careful to support her head,” you responded, a lazy arm reaching out and flicking his leg.

“I got her, sleep my love,” he bent down to press a kiss to your cheek, making a point to cradle the baby extra protectively. You nodded before shifting around to get more comfortable. 

Percy marveled at the life laying on his chest. Her head laid on his pec, right where his heart was. Fitting, he thought. Her feet ended near his ribs, it was then he realized how tiny she was. He looked at a note from the nurse’s recordings. 15 inches, 7 pounds and 6 ounces. This itty bitty creature had him to rely on. Him and you. The best parents ever. 

It was obvious just by the way he looked at the baby in his arms, Percy would bring the Earth to its ends for her. He eventually took a seat in one of the chairs, taking a closer look at his baby girl. She was even more beautiful than he expected. He went to brush her cheek and when her tiny hand closed around his finger, he just about burst into tears.

A soft knock sounded at the door, and in came Sally. 

“Y/n’s asleep,” he told her softly, not taking his eyes off of Zandra.

Sally smiled at her son, “what’s her name?”

“Zandra Alamea Jackson, figure we’ll call her Zoe,” Percy replied, finally looking up at his mom. 

“Beautiful. Can I hold her?” you asked, reaching out, 

Percy hesitated before gently picking Zoe off his chest and handing her to his mom. 

“Oh, she’s so much smaller than you were. But she also looks like your carbon copy,” The woman said, smiling at your son and rocking the baby. 

“15 inches, 7 pounds 6 ounces,” he brushed a hand on her arm, marveling at the feeling of this being his child. 

As everyone had come in to hold the newborn, You had woken up just in time for Zandra to need to be fed. Percy stayed while everyone else left to either go home or give you some privacy. It was five in the morning after all, and they’d been there since two in the afternoon the previous day.

“Can you Iris Message Nico? I think it’s only fitting for him to visit his goddaughter now that everyone else is gone,” You asked, finishing up breastfeeding.

“Yeah of course,” Percy pulled some water from the drain and positioned it under the soft glow of the lamp, tossing a drachma into it. “Oh Iris, Goddess of the Rainbow, show me Nico Di Angelo at Camp Half-Blood,” 

“Percy? What the shit?” Nico muttered groggily, lifting his head from the pillow. 

“Can you shadow travel to me right now?” Percy inquired, hiding a smile. 

“Yeah, why?” the younger boy asked in suspicion.

“I have a surprise for you,” The Son of Poseidon declared. Nico raised an eyebrow before swiping through the message and moments later Nico arrived out of a corner. 

“Woah. What the hell did you do?” Nico asked. 

“I had a c-section. Meet your goddaughter, Zandra Alamea Jackson,” You cut in, waving Nico over to see your,

“She’s beautiful, looks a little too much like Percy though,” he declared, reaching to caress her cheek.

“That’s what everyone’s saying. I am beautiful, why is it such an issue?” Percy grumbled, pouting slightly.

You and Nico just rolled your eyes, used to the dramatics. 

The day you came home, Percy made sure everything was perfect. The house was spotless, laundry and dishes done and put away. Zoe’s room was neater than Annabeth’s bookshelves, the light purple walls complimenting the white furniture. you had a dark gray carpet with another smaller rug on top. It was half the sun and half the moon, a gift from Artemis and Apollo. Inside your crib lay a little dark purple blanket with black ravens and little golden stars, one side silk, the other wool. Another gift, this one from Sally. It was accompanied by a little blue stuffed shark, probably still double Zoe’s size. 

The room was full of toys, walls decorated with framed pictures of friends and family. Coming into Sally Jackson’s apartment and seeing it clean was never a surprise, but it being clean at the hands of Percy was new. He had prepped the whole house the day before his girls were allowed to come home. 

Zandra had settled into your new home quickly, thankfully sleeping mostly through the night. Percy handled it most of the time, he was a night owl anyways and adored spending time with his daughter. You felt like the luckiest woman in the world.Uyou had the perfect daughter and the perfect father to your daughter. You were truly content. One night when Percy had gotten up to change Zandra’s diaper, he brought her into your room, laying her on his chest with an arm around her and one over you, well it was a night you could say you slept the most content you had since being a child. 

Percy was your safe place and he always would be. You knew that if you were to jump into the River Styx in an attempt to gain the curse of Achilles your mortal spot would be the same, just below your left collar bone, though your anchor would now be Percy and Zandra when it used to be the family you remembered from before you discovered your true parentage.

When Zandra turned one month old, a large celebration was held at camp half-blood. Everyone was obsessed and cooed over this beautiful and powerful little girl, who looked just like her father but with your mother’s attitude, that much you could tell at such a young age.

Percy loved your eyes, he sometimes wished your daughter got them. Though the sea-green like his, swirling with dark power like her mother's would suffice perfectly. Nothing could change either of your opinions. Your daughter was perfect in every way, she deserved the world and so much more. 

Returning home from your midterm exam, you had noticed that Sally and Percy Jackson’s apartment had become covered in baby pictures in the short four months she had been alive. There was one of Zandra in a little yellow onesie, one of her in blue, a jean jacket, a picture of you and Zandra sitting on the couch, and so many more. You felt yourself tear up, making your way to the nursery. you heard voices and stopped to eavesdrop outside of Sally’s room. 

“Just ask her tonight!” the exasperated voice of the older woman came through the wall.

“It should be special,” Percy protested.

“You are special to her! Y/n won’t care where you do it, Percy.”

He hesitated, “Okay. Yeah, tonight.”

You hurried into the nursery, kissing the sleeping baby on the head before turning back to head into your and Percy’s room, pretending you didn’t hear that conversation.

you walked in and saw Percy with his back turned to you, talking to himself quietly. 

“Perce?” you asked, coming up behind him.

“Angel,” he smiled, kissing you softly, “I actually have to ask you something.”

“What’s up?” you inquired, smiling back.

He blew out a breath, getting on one knee and pulling his grandmother's ring from his pocket. 

Your eyes widened, filling with tears and you quickly covered your mouth to smother an escaped sob.

“I wanted to do this somewhere more special, maybe our spot at camp, but mom insisted it’s special enough just to have you with me. You, Y/n L/n, I love you more than anything in the universe, except maybe Zoe, so will you do me the greatest honor and marry me?” He questioned, looking up at you with his goofy lopsided smile.

“Yes! Of course!” you shrieked, allowing him to put the ring on your hand, right next to the ring concealing your dagger. 

“I told you so! I'm taking Zoe with me to the store!” Sally’s voice called, followed by the front door closing.

Some could say that was the night baby number two was conceived, but the only ones who could confirm that are Percy and you, and that was an answer no one would be getting. 

[yamamasjumpercables]

Cowboys Don’t Cry

(Chapter Two)

Pairing: Cowboy!Bangchan x Fem!Reader

A/n: Literally wrote this right after finishing chapter one

Summary: Y/n and Bangchan were childhood friends until he moved away to the big city, leaving Y/n heartbroken. Years later Chan comes back to town for good, now he has to fix what he broke all those years ago.

AU: Cowboy/Country Boy

Trope(s): Childhood Friends - to - Lovers, Grumpy x Sunshine, Slow Burn

Genre: Rom-com, Drama and Angst

Warning(s): 18+ rating (cussing)

The next day all I could worry about was the risk of seeing his face again. Changbin and Hyunjin came over to get my mind off Chan. They helped me with the horses and chicken. Taking most of load off me. Changbin reassured me that I wasn’t going to see Chan at all. So I dropped the thought of him, for now. After Changbin and Hyunjin left, I went to the bar. It may be too early in the morning to go to bar but I can’t resist their cheesy fries and blueberry lemonade.

I walked into the bar greeting the few people that were inside. I sat at the counter talking to the bartender Casey, he always knows my order so he already knew what I was in for. After about 3 cups of lemonade and 1 1/2 bowls of cheesy fries later I decided to leave. I set a tip on the counter for Casey and left. I walked outside seeing the boys coming out the town bakery.

“Hey you guys” I say waving to them before walking over to the other side of the road. “Hey Y/n, what are you doing here” I.n said giving me a hug. “Eating cheesy fries most likely” Leeknow says wrapping his arm around my shoulder. “You already know” I say rolling my eyes playfully. “But what are you guys doing here?” I say jokingly. “I- well-“ Han was trying to speak until Felix cut him off. “Listen we were just hanging out with Chan ok, don’t worry about seeing him we’ll make sure he doesn’t come around you” Felix says attempting to reassure me.

“If I see him all of you are dying from natural causes” I threaten, while glaring at them. “Leeknow is rubbing off on you” I.n says hiding behind Hyunjin. “I know right I’m so proud” Leeknow says happily. I rolled my eyes sarcastically, and walked to my car. Once I arrived home I washed up and went to bed.

I got up early the next morning to get a head start on the same over due farm work I still haven’t finished. I headed down to the town’s hardware shop to pick up some tools, chicken feed and rope. I walked in the store greeting the two owners of the store. A lovely old couple who has had this shop for generations.

I had gotten everything I needed, then I noticed guy in my peripheral, contemplating on which rope to buy. “Oh don’t use that rope it’s definitely no good, you couldn’t even play tug of war with it” I laugh walking up to him not realizing who I was talking to. “Use this one instead it’s way more sturdy” I say grabbing a different rope to hand to him.

“Oh thank you I didn’t know which one to- Y/N!?” “CHAN?!” I exclaimed. “Omg how have you been, it’s been so long” Chan said eagerly. “Oh I’m good” I say disinterested. “Oh I’m good too” Chan says chuckling embarrassingly, itching the back of his neck. I roll my eyes and walk away until I felt a tug on my wrist. I look back at him with a glare, snatching my wrist back from his desperate grasp. “Don’t touch me” I say as his cheeks turn red from embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I don’t want to cause any trouble Y/n just wanted to let you know I was back in town for good” Chan says looking at me with hope.

“Great, I hope you don’t disappoint this town the way you disappointed me” I say smiling sarcastically, grabbing my rope. “Wait what, how did I disappoint you?” Chan asked, as he followed me to the front of the store. “Ugh you’re still here” I say taking the items from my cart placing it on the counter. “Uh yea I am, do you need help with that?” Chan asked me with concern, seeing me somewhat struggle with the chicken feed.

“I don’t need your help” i say trying to steady my hold on the bag. “Really? It sure looks like you do.” Chan says laughing. I throw a cold glare over my shoulder as I finally put the chicken feed on the counter. “Great you finally did it” Chan says clapping sarcastically.

I scoff, pulling his hat down then pushing him back. Chan chuckled walking back to me, smacking my hand away as I tried paying for my items. “Hey what the hell are you doing you idiot” I say pushing his hand back. “Y/n let me pay, I just witnessed you struggling to pick up some feed and didn’t help its the lease I can do” Chan says grabbing both of my wrists to pulling me behind him. “I can’t believe you really paid for me, I can pay for my own shit” I say pinching his arm. “Ouch! I was trying to be nice, I wanted to help an old friend out” Chan said putting his card back in his pocket. “Yea sure old friend” I say getting my items, walking to my truck. “You ok, you know you can talk to me” Chan says helping me with my stuff.

“That’s rich coming from you” I say sarcastically, putting the stuff in the trunk. “What’s that supposed to mean, I’m still the same person I was when I was here” Chan says putting the rest of my stuff in the trunk, following me to the drivers seat of my truck. “Yea you are still the same person who left this town, left your friends, and left me” I say getting into the drivers seat. “Listen city boy unless you want get beat down with your own boots, I suggest you stay away from me” I say glaring at him, driving away leaving Chan in front of the hardware shop. “Nice to see you to Y/n” Chan mumbled.

Chapter 3 coming soon….

[too-young-to-fall-in-love]

Turned Night Into Day

summary:

There's no reason why Illya should want to talk to him. Really, there isn't. So why's he showing up at his hotel room with a bottle of Scotch and something like an apology on his lips? Or, most of Amor Magnus Doctor Est chapter 8 in Napoleon's POV!! <3

notes:

inspired by Amor Magnus Doctor Est by @cha-melodius

tags:

POV Napoleon Solo, Napoleon solo has no self confidence, insecure Napoleon solo, Reunions, the happy ending to just like me, Mild Sexual Content, inspired by another fic, Napoleon Solo Needs a Hug, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Professors

excerpt:

“I’m sorry,” Illya whispers, the words ringing like a gunshot in the otherwise dead quiet of the room. Of all the things Napoleon was expecting, it was definitely not that. “I heard what you and Gaby were talking about,” and “Did you really get Victoria fired to try and win me back?” seemed the most obvious. He’s only able to stare at Illya as the words rattle around in his head. In the silence of the room it seems that Illya might want to take it back. He finds himself hoping he will, because while there’s nothing he wants more than Illya, he’s only good for being left behind. He hopes equally as much that he won’t, because even in the face of reality he still wants him more than he’s ever wanted anything else. “What for?” he asks, head tilted to the side, brow furrowed. Illya huffs out a sound that could be a laugh, but it’s too harsh, too bitter to be classified as such. It’s so sudden that Napoleon actually flinches from it. “Everything,” he answers, like it’s obvious. Like he’d done anything wrong. Leaving him may have been the best decision Illya’s ever made. He can’t imagine how that could be wrong. “For blaming you when it wasn’t really your fault. For shutting you out. For not—” Illya’s voice catches in his throat, and he takes another swallow of liquor. Napoleon shuts his eyes against Illya’s next words, “for not being there for you when I should have been.” A feeble sense of hope takes root in his heart, growing until it threatens to choke him.

read more on ao3

[fountainpenguin]

Spent too long discarding names for a fluffy draft about Grian and Joel bottle-feeding newly hatched SnifferMyFeet, and I might be obsessed with this placeholder:

[eliza-makepeace]

it seems to me like eldest tries really hard to make it seem like arya has a lot of personality and complexity as a character and frankly it's not really working imho. like. there's a scene that really frustrates me. where we're told that she and eragon sit and talk about their families, their lives and whatnot, but that dialogue just. doesn't exist. how the hell am i supposed to see her as something other than a clear attempt from paolini to create "ideal woman who is so perfect and wonderful and yet will eventually fall for our protagonist"? give her some depth! make it make sense to me that eragon would be interested in her, aside from the fact that she's oh so beautiful. paolini makes him literally say to her that he cares about his friendship with her, but tbh i don't think any of us do either because their friendship has never been properly developed. most of the time it's eragon's inner monologue going "wow she's so pretty and wonderful and has such stealth and her figure and her hair and omg she'd never be with me :(" and her being mean to the dwarves or smth.

[coridallasmultipass]

.

[tonycries]

Sweetheart Online - G.S.

Synopsis. Isekai-ed into another world, or isekai-ed into your pants?! Gojo Satoru is in danger - in danger of losing his prized, otaku vírginíty, that is.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, otaku! Gojo, isekai, vírgínity loss (Gojo), chokíng, use of “ma’am”, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, begging, nerdy babbling, Gojo wears glasses, cúmming dry, first times, oraI (f + m), face-sítting, cúmming early, spítting, creampíes, cúmplay, p talking, cúmming in his pants, he goes féral, otaku vocab, truck-kun, anime nosebIeeds, Gojo is a LOSER, and so down bad for you, pet names, swearíng.

Word count. 8.8k

A/N. IT’S HEREEEEE-

“Har har. hilarious, Suguru-”

“You know m’not joking, Satoru.” Geto’s taking an infuriatingly long slurp! of his ramen from the other end of the line, and Gojo’s known the man long enough to realize that he’s doing it solely to irritate him. That bastard. “You’re a loser.”

Ah, he’s never wanted to throttle him more. 

Because- listen, Gojo Satoru might be many things. 

He might be the proud president of the campus otaku club, rumored to have never even held hands with a woman his entire life. Complete defamation, of course, Gojo has held hands with his mother as a child. Though…she might be the only one. 

He might be the most annoying tenant at his cramped Tokyo apartment, every inch of it covered with enough of your pretty figurines that he’s taken to sleeping on the couch recently. But you deserved only the best!

And he might currently be the sketchiest man trudging down the streets of Shibuya at 3AM; with a brand-spanking new, life-sized body pillow of you tucked safely underneath one arm.

But that didn’t mean Gojo was a loser. Probably. 

So what if he got strange looks from every unfortunate normie soul he happened to pass? It was limited edition, and he waited eight hours in line for it!

After all, a man with such a prized possession could surely and undoubtedly never be a-

“-oi- oi!” Self-proclaimed best friend, and universally-proclaimed pain in Gojo’s ass grumbles into the phone. 

Snapping out of his reverie, Gojo’s registering that he’s already at that familiar flickering stoplight. Fingers curling even tighter in their tender hold around your form, he saunters down the barren crossing. 

He needed to get home - and he needed to get home fast! A man needs quality time with his wife, after all. 

“Don’t tell me you fainted from her ah- what was it- ‘sheer beauty and unparalleled sex appeal’ again?”

“That was one time and you know it.” He’s hissing into the speaker- honestly, Geto’s probably just cranky that he didn’t get his grubby hands on one of these before he did - Gojo’s seen the other man’s plushie collection of you no matter how much he tries to hide it. “This time, I only got weak in the knees.”

There’s a snickering drawl, “Oh yeah? What wondrous self-control, o’ maestro of virgins.”

And the title is so utterly ridiculous that Gojo finds himself stuttering into a shocked stop right in the middle of the gloomy asphalt. A laugh bubbling up in his throat before he remembers that that particularly sweet nickname was directed at him. 

“You’re a virgin too!”

Scoffing, “Yeah, but I don’t act like it. You, on the other hand, are famed for having your first kiss with the common room tv the moment you first saw that video game character. People were making bets on whether you were going to die a virgin, Satoru. Hell- I bet, too!”

Dammit, when you put it like that it makes Geto sound downright respectable. 

“Actually, she’s more than a video game character, Sugu—” Times like this, he’s letting his words simper out into a whine. Full and well knowing how much it’ll grate against Geto’s eardrums - hah, take that ramen ASMR! Smugly, Gojo pushes up his thickly-rimmed glasses, “She’s the revered princess of a distant land, first in line to rule over the throne with a gentle yet firm hand. Scouring the seas for the perfect consort that will-”

“Are you quoting her Wikipedia-”

“I wrote her Wikipedia.” Gojo huffs indignantly, as if anyone could ever assume anything less. “Because to me, she’s- she’s…”

And, truly, nothing he recited with MLA citations could ever describe you.

Because if there’s one thing that Geto was right about, it’s the fact that Gojo’s been completely and utterly head-over-heels for you ever since he first glimpsed an ad for Sweetheart Online - the hottest, filthiest romance game to hit the industry in the last few years. Maybe ever. 

With one love interest - as if he needed any other - you, and your hand in marriage that Gojo had fought rival after unworthy rival to win 143 times already.

He finds himself wracking his brain for any word in the existing lexicon to describe the perfection that is you. Though, it seems that he doesn’t have to think too hard at all. 

Because before he can even imagine letting the first few syllables formulate on his tongue, there’s a deafening-

HONK!

Gojo turns, only to see the glaringly white headlights of a truck hurtling towards him at full-speed. 

And the first thing he thinks is oh, it kind of looks like the spotlight that dazzles on you 1 minute and 24 seconds into the game’s Coronation Event. The second thing he thinks is…fuck.

.

.

.

“-highness—looks rabid!”

“—that’s rude, but…”

“-oh dear, put your sword down, Itadori.”

Gojo takes a few bleary seconds to pat himself mentally on the back for deducing that he’s died and made his way to heaven. Honestly, it doesn’t matter what Yaga says - he really is a genius sometimes.

What else could the delicate paintings of cupids and clouds on the staggeringly tall ceiling abovehead mean? He didn’t think that the heavens above had a fancy for Baroque - but who was he to judge? 

Certainly not when it seemed like he was sprawled out on a painfully decadent bed. Sifting among layers and layers of delicate silk that almost swallowed him whole - oh, it was fit enough for his figurine collection of you. 

A sharp crick shoots along Gojo’s neck when he turns his eyes towards what seemed like a towering window, wincing at the large glowing ball of light washing warmly over him. If he squinted his eyes it almost looked like…the sun?

Surely, he wasn’t a ghost then.

It hadn’t even been daybreak once that semi-truck had run him over, and even if he was to haunt anyone then it would be to bug Geto into plastering his collection of your posters all over his gravestone. 

And the final piece of celestial evidence being a soft, soothing tone ringing in his ears and already becoming his favorite new song. Coming from the mouth of an angel peering down at him who looked - lo and behold - like your very spitting image. 

“Oh…” It comes out in a hoarse, scratchy gasp. All the air knocking out of his poor lungs once you inch in mere centimeters closer to his glassy view. He can’t help but reach up a trembly hand, “You’re even more beautiful in 3D.”

SMACK!

Gojo flinches when his hand gets knocked away unceremoniously by someone else’s- there were other people here? “You dare attempt to touch the princess? After revealing yourself in her chambers? I should call the guards right now-”

Now, he didn’t know much about the afterlife, but he was sure that demons weren’t allowed in heaven.

“It’s quite alright, Nobara.” The angel speaks up, and oh, it’s not even his name being said but Gojo already feels his heart leap a little and suddenly wishes it was. “Judging by the state of his clothes it seems he’s not from these parts. Maybe he’s lost?”

Gentle hands are suddenly bestowed upon his to softly pull him up, and before he can open his mouth to undoubtedly blurt out something stupid, there’s a ringing PING!

Jumping just about a foot off the bed, he’s scrambling to stand as a strangely robotic voice speaks from somewhere overhead, “Milestone: Touch a Girl reached. System activation successful! Congratulations, user [Satorulovesprincess]. Welcome to Sweetheart Online.”

If the group in front of him heard anything, then they didn’t show a sign. 

Very much the opposite of a thoroughly panicked Gojo, flailing his head towards the source of the noise until his eyes meet a holographic screen hovering just a few inches over his head.

As if something pulled right out of one of Geto’s favorite trashy sci-fi films - fuck being in heaven, he was probably still on those Shibuya streets hallucinating and causing an incident.. 

Gojo treks down a hand to pinch his forearm, just a little harder than necessary when the voice booms once more-

“Quite ingenious, user [Satorulovesprincess]. However, we assure you that what you are seeing is real.” The screen displays those exact words in time. “You have initiated the execution of the system, and are now bound to Sweetheart Online.”

“System- Sweetheart Online-” Great, he’s going mad. Running his hands through tousled locks of cloudy white, “Don’t tell me…don’t tell me this is like one of those shitty isekai anime.”

Oh god it all made sense - the truck, the system, the truck. And Gojo’s watched much more than enough cliché isekai anime with the otaku club to realize. 

But…a truck? Seriously? That’s embarrassingly overused. 

It’s like a pit of ice forms at the bottom of his stomach. He bet that no one but him could see the glaring screen right now. A fact he was especially glad for once the following words roll out-

“Following your sudden and extremely inexperienced death, Mission: No-Longer-Virgin has already started.”

Whispering to himself, “So this is where virgins go after death. Some sort of purgatory perhaps in which the last wishes of the virgin are materialized- although that doesn’t explain the presence of- wait-”

“Good luck, user: [Satorulovesprincess]. May your virginity collapse, and your sex life prosper!”

If Gojo didn’t know any better, he’d have sworn that the disjointed voice sounded amused. 

But wait- no, it wanted Gojo to lose his virginity? His long-held, precious, maiden virginity? After twenty-something years, how crude that this ah- mission marrs his delicate body. Did the system think that he was some sort of harlot to-

“Are…are you okay, strange sir?”

Okay, maybe losing his virginity wasn’t all that bad.

Turning back around slowly, “I uh…”

And this wasn’t quite how Gojo imagined meeting you - glasses askew, hair rumpled, in the very same ratty hoodie and sweatpants he’d camped outside the anime store in - hell, he never thought he’d meet you in general. 

But then you smile, and Gojo falls onto his knees. Right then and there on the polished floor.

You were exactly as he’d seen on-screen. Brows quirking upwards just a slight cheeky degree the same way it did whenever his in-game avatar said something particularly smooth. Gorgeous. The silken skirts of your ball gown looking oh-so-soft to the touch but not as soft as you-

“Your highness, on top of being a madman, he drools at the sight of you!” A younger girl shrieks - Nobara Kugisaki, your trusty attendant, he remembers. Hastily wiping his lips, “Kindly consider having his skull impaled.”

There was nothing kindly about having his skull impaled, and Gojo’s already clutching his head when you chuckle. “Your name?”

Ah, he’s forgotten how to speak. Forgotten how to breathe. “G-Gojo Satoru- my princess- your highness.”

“Apologies, I’m not sure what foreign ambassador you are, but I do welcome you kindly to our kingdom.” You’re letting your eyes roam all over his still-kneeled body, and in them glittered something…dark. 

Sliding over your hand and oh! Gojo remembers this.

He’s drinking in that delicate floral scent of yours, dragging his plump mouth to meet the back of your hand in a lingering kiss. The very moment his lips touch you, Gojo feels lightheaded.

And only after pulling away does he realize exactly why-

“Ah! He’s bleeding!” The young man - your loyal knight, Itadori - yelps, and Gojo’s clapping over the warm wetness smearing over his lower face. A nosebleed? Really? Just from kissing your hand? God, Geto was right - he really is a loser. “Should I call the healers, your highness?”

“No we have him drawn and quartered for such an unseemly display-”

“Nobara, that’s quite alright.” You’re waving off, smooth marble floors resonating out sharp clacks! when you walk even closer. Close. Too close. Until you’re seated on the edge of the bed, “After all, it is my consort choosing ceremony. Isn’t that what you’re here for, Satoru?”

Gojo thinks he could faint at the way you say his name - and he almost does. 

Scrambling towards you, he’s fully kneeling at your feet now. You’re so beautiful - so real - that pearly beads of tears dot his fluttering lashes. “Y-yes, ma’am.”

He swears he hears you mumble cute under your breath. Now he could really faint–

“Oh? And I intend on fulfilling the wishes of my guest.” Speaking somewhere over his shoulder, “You two are dismissed. Lock the doors.”

Kugisaki is, unsurprisingly, the one to protest. “But- but, your highness he’s-” And, honestly, Gojo can recognize the raw expression of what the fuck in her voice. He doesn’t blame her one bit. Not when you tip his head up further to face yours and his nose twitches like he’s about to start nosebleeding all over again. “...pathetic.”

Ouch. Gojo was on the verge of spoiling the ending to her character’s backstory when you’re humming. “I like them pathetic, Nobara.” 

Did he mention you were an angel?

“So…” You’re luring him in, and just that heady lilt of your voice already makes his cottony grey sweatpants tight. Shit- wasn’t this the type of situation that he wrote secret fanfics about?

Barely hearing the creaky SLAM! of the double doors to your royal chamber. Clouded pants waft over your satisfied features, he’s peeking up at you over his large spectacles. Lolling closer and closer-

Mumbling, “Yes, my prin- oh!”

Gojo’s pouted strawberry-pink lips wobble cutely when the golden points of your heel dig into the fleshy mound of his thigh. Prominent Adam’s apple bobbing, “Y-your highness?”

“What’s this about a-” Watery eyes widening wordlessly when you’re sliding it all the way up, up, up along the shockingly curvaceous muscles to press right down on the straining inches of his fattened cock. Needy. Bulging. “-virginity loss mission-” Hard. “-Satoru?”

And Gojo doesn’t know what comes first - that sharp inhale at the realization, or him.

Fist flying up for him to sink his pretty pearly whites into when he’s biting back a whimper and cumming.

You could feel the way that Gojo’s sloppy mushroom tip was just bawling with every lazy grind up and down his sappy slit. 

Milking out the thick, goopy ribbons being sprinkled from his rounded mushroom tip. Volumes upon volumes. So much of it. That warm texture clinging against the flats of your shoe and puddling out mushy dark splotches into his sweatpants.

Shit. Shit shit shit - cumming just from that. All in front of the woman of his dreams. Part of him almost wants to apologize.

But the way your mouth curls into a sleazy grin makes Gojo’s heart race, every minute action only keeping his achy length even harder. 

He so can’t help himself from grabbing your calves to halt with a few twitchy fingers - only to be going against his own yearnings. Hips humping yours once like a fucking dog as his breath hitches, “You- you know?”

“Awww, of course I know, Toru. I can see the screen.” Fuck- he hopes you can’t feel the wet splat! of another buttery wad of cum being dolloped out generously from his depraved divot. Leaning in, “S’this the first time anyone else has ever made you cum?”

He knew you were teasing - he knew it. But that doesn’t stop Gojo from panting out a strained, “Yes.”

“Hmmm, well-” You’re tapping your chin in thought, despite already having made your decision. But it was just so fun to see this beautiful man shivering and pleading on his knees. “I don’t know where you transmigrated from but…I still am a benevolent ruler, after all.”

He gulps. Cupping one flushed side of his face, Gojo’s practically a steaming hot mess of putty in your hands. “And I can take care of that little virginity business for you.”

Croaking out, “P-please.”

“Hmmm, not good ‘nough.” You’re rovering down even further to press a slight smooch of pressure against his fatly filled-up balls. Thighs squeezing at just how big they were - breeder balls. “Is that how you speak to your princess?”

“No- no no no-” Gojo’s shaking his head so hard that it makes him a little dizzy, or maybe that was the way that you were fisting your determined digits into his faded hoodie. “Please…ma’am.”

“Much better.”

Before he can even blink, he’s being dragged upwards according to your every want and whim. Thrown onto the bouncy king-sized mattress with such strength- of course, he shouldn’t even be surprised. You are the future queen for a reason, after all. 

In fact, he’s never skipped a single cut scene that showed you training your battle skills-

“Now now, don’t tell me you’re tapping out already?” Your voice drifts its way into his melty mind, words so sugary sweet that he could almost taste them. “At least gimme a lil’ kiss now-”

And it’s more than anything he could’ve ever dreamed of.

Muffling back a muted yes, Gojo’s surging upwards to clash his lips into yours. And oh shit, just-now realizing that he’s lost his first ever kiss. 

Then his second. His third. His fourth.

It’s messy. It’s hot. 

Tugging you even closer with a forearm around your waist. Gojo’s sloppy tongue is licking its way past your ravenous entrance, fucked-out bubbles of spittle pop up at the edges of his pursed lips when you’re breaking away-

“N-nooo-” He’s letting off a shuddering whine, chasing after you with a sluttily half-parted maw. “Gimme- wanna ‘nother kiss, princess.”

So greedy. The fat curve of your thumb positions itself on Gojo’s prettily dimpled chin, prying open his dewy lips even further. “Open that mouth f’me, Toru?”

He’s doing exactly what you’re saying before he even realizes it. The glistening muscle of his tongue splayed-out perfectly on display for you - for you to spit out a heavy mass of saliva right onto his pinkish tastebuds. 

Gojo moans at the contact - and you can feel it before he does. The subtle jolt of his weepy cockhead, before your languidly gyrating kneecap is dampened with another wiry slather of cum. Warm and wet. 

“Cumming again?” You coo, eyes darting between the ever-growing pool of a frosted mess between his long legs, and his face. Gojo looked so pretty like this - glasses sliding down his button nose, eyes shuttering with each heaving pant - gasp. Face flushed and slicked with a slight shimmer of sweat, stray locks of white curtain and stick to his reddened forehead. He looked so pretty. “Just from that?”

He’s squirming his depraved hips to smudge a faint glaze of seed down your mounds of flesh, one palm dancing upwards to stop himself from having a nosebleed all over again. “C-can’t help it…The average time of ejaculation for a man is five to seven minutes based on psychological factors and age. And as a healthy young man just because I-”

You’re shutting him up with a kiss, and Gojo almost wonders why more people don’t do this time - that is, until he remembers they’re not you.

“Sounds pretty serious.” You’re nodding, a mask of teasing graveness taking over your face. Swiftly shuffling down the seemingly endless expanse of the bed. Doughy fingerpads delicately hooking onto the hem of his drenched pants, “Better get a taste before you run out, then.”

Gojo lets out such a breathy pant at the implication, “N-no it won’t, considering the volume of the seminal vesicle and- ah!”

Whatever drunken rambling of his is cut very, very short as soon as you tug down those useless sweatpants and let Gojo’s red, painfully angry cock smack! against his abdomen with a wet smear.

He was so…big.

Such girthy, solid inches upon inches that twitched needily right before your very eyes. A rummaging, left-leaning curve being nestled above two pretty pink balls. 

Your mouth waters once you’re curling your fingers dexterously around his plump circumference, making his cerise cockhead waterfall out in another lazy sheen of pre. It’s honestly a bit of a strain to even get your fingertips meeting each other properly with his incredible size, and that just makes you want him more.

Gojo’s knitting his ivory brows nervously, “S-s’it okay?”

It’s more than okay.

And you’re about to show him that.

Cerulean irises crossing together until they were all heart-eyed when a saturated coating of your saliva tops his bloated tip like a layer of icing. Before he feels himself fall in fucking love just at the gummy peck of your mouth onto the rotund ends of his length.

“W-woahhh—” He’s breathing out, eyes locked lecherously right with yours when the steaming hot cavern of your mouth sinks in more and more and more- “This- what- fuuuck-”

And then you’re huffing out a slight chuckle through your nose, hitting his drenched base and making him keen. Slender hips of his lurch the perfect angle off the luxurious bed to bump his mountainous head against the very back of your throat. 

Gasping - begging. 

“You’re seriously gonna…take me?” Prattling through clenched teeth as you grace him with a few more flooding masses of spit. It makes him feel so used. Feel so good. “Like you- you’re gonna put me in your mouth?”

“No.” You’re snickering at the utterly crestfallen look on his face, full mouth downturned, puffed-up tip tinting an even more blasphemous red as if to tempt you. Your fingers tangle with his to claw at the crown of your head, “You’re gonna put yourself in my mouth.”

Oh.

Oh.

“Shit-” Gojo whispers - more to himself than anything. “You can do this- can- can do this- just suck on m’cock-” Rubbing out a translucent lipstain all over your ajar maw before plugging his proud girth inside. “Please- wanna know what it feels…”

Gojo can’t remember what he was saying. What he was thinking. 

Because just a few vulgar sucks of your tenderized mouth around his inflated cock and he’s drunk. Fuck dying by a truck, he was about to die just by this. 

Head lolling all the way back against the poofy pillows, white-hot bliss flashing behind his eyes and- when had he even closed them?

“Wh-why does it feel so–” he’s clenching his jaw, dredging out every single ounce of will in his being to peer at the heavenly - hah- sight below. “-so- good- c-can it feel so good- hngh- please-”

Gojo’s drawing up the hem of his hoodie to cover that brightly blossoming blush. So adorable. He even tasted sweet, like the best of salted caramel that made you infinitely want more. 

Your salacious tongue is repeatedly wetting down his lightning bolted veins. Up and down up and down up and down to draw little hearts on those bumpy lines. 

His sobbing cockhead mushing back into the velveteen walls of your mouth, and Gojo could cum just from the voluptuous curve being outlined into your cheek. He’s finding it almost fucking impossible to grunt out over the raw squelches! emanating from where you were making out with his throbbing cock, “Must be illegal- that’s it! It f-feels so good this must be- ngh- outlawed.”

You’ve rendered him stupid. And he’s so hot and heavy in your mouth, it makes your core stir up to think that you’re the first.

Every choked-up plea only resonates off of the numerous corners of your bedroom even louder once your fingers latch onto the gluttonous curve of his fattened balls. Squeezing-

“S-so dirty- so dirty, princess…” And part of Gojo doesn’t know why he’s letting his traitorous hands wander onto the back of your scalp. Doesn’t know why he’s plunging just a few more inches past your prettily-pouted lips - you were his princess and he was…not treating you like royalty.

The Gojo in this game had always been so smooth. So suave. Taking his sweet, sweet time to hold your hand and talk to you about the politics of your kingdom.

Right now he was curving his thick thighs to flex around your shoulder and feeding you every saccharine inch you could possibly swallow up. “Can you- can you take more? Take this biiiig fuckin’ cock?”

You’re being choked in a locked hold by his powerful legs, and you’ve never been wetter. Practically puddling out a syrupy pond on the sheets underneath you.

Tugging out the thick nub of his thumb to smear those honeyed splatters of his precum at the corners of your mouth, you can only grin as you let your sentence translate into thrumming vibrations. “Mhmm— Settling into it s-so well, aren’t ya, Tooooru?”

“F-fuck!” Gojo’s blushing tip glides shyly down the tight back of your throat, rovering all along each n’ every millimeter of space inside you. It only made your head bob faster to imagine how he would feel down there- “Don’t talk- don’t talk. Please don’t talk s’gonna make me…”

But you.

Oh, Gojo Satoru has read your character profile over 2489 times by now.

He’s memorized every factoid and morsel of knowledge there is to know about you - so of course, he should’ve known. Should’ve realized that babbling away those words would only make your sultry motions increase.

“Cum f’me like a good boy.”

And he does. 

You can only watch in awe when a pearlescent globule of cum gumdrops from his weepy orifice, one. Two. Three. Until Gojo was just drenching the entirety of your mouth with thickly viscous coatings of seed, until you were just drooling with a wadded mess of spittle and seed.

Salty flavor dripping down your tongue and flooding out. So much of it. Too much, Gojo was spurting out the thickest ribbons of creamy white as if he’d never cum before - and doesn’t plan to stop any time soon. 

More, more, more like it was the sound of your voice making him shiver. Making him whine like a zillion volts of electricity was running down his greedy spine. 

The moment you pull away, hefty oodles of cum hit Gojo’s toned abs with a wet splat! And your dear subject is wrangling out his hands towards you like he never wanted to let go.

“No- no! Please- please come back-” Crinkling tears trek their way down his dewy face, sensory pads of his fingers reaching out for you desperately, only for you to part away. “N-need your pretty mouth on me.”

You’re raising a brow, thumbing over his still-crying divot, “But don’tcha want something…else, Satoru?”

“Something- else?” He’s rasping out haltingly, head thoroughly swimming with nothing but you. Your heart glows with pride at the way he can barely form coherent sentences, “What…oh.”

But Gojo gets the idea soon enough when you’re hastily shedding away your outer robes. He fumblingly tries to help, of course, but the simple idea of helping a woman undress is too much for him - and he’s banished to simply watching you, one hand held underneath his nose in case of another…incident. 

Gown and undergarments hitting the floor, your gorgeous legs come to hike up, up, up- driveling mouth falling slack the moment they’re ending up rested on either side of his intoxicated head.

“Oh.” He wheezes intelligently up at your glistening cunt.

“Nothing else ta say?” Your heady purrs only make him blush, nuzzling his feverishly burning cheek against the spattered sheen of slick at your inner thigh. He’s making such a mess on purpose. Making himself a mess. 

“Well-” Gojo bats his long lashes up at you dangerously, clear planes of his glasses digging into the handsome apples of his cheeks. But he didn’t mind. Couldn’t even feel anything but the sweltering heat of your arousal. “-jus’ that- I want you to spit in my mouth, princess.”

And the very moment that sugar-coated sap, Gojo moans.

Eyes flickering shut at the taste of himself - the taste of you. A candied little tinge that he oh-so-badly needs more of - and without even a second of hesitation, he’s stuffing himself right there between your pretty legs. 

It doesn’t matter the rhythm. It doesn��t matter the rhyme. 

And Gojo doesn’t even know any - the very moment your puffy lips are meeting his kiss-bitten ones in a French kiss, he already knows that your cute cunt has taken him hostage.

Jaw clenching as he tries to memorize all those fanfics he guiltily read night after night, Gojo’s bumping up his cloudily condensed glasses further up his nose when he leaves one kiss. Two. “Ohhhh, your pussy tastes s-sooo good.”

And they each get messier and messier after the other. 

Letting the heaping dollops of your juices flood onto his roughened tastebuds, he’s letting his long tongue peek apart your gluey pussylips. Sliding the very tip up and down and round n’ round your slicked entrance. 

“The- the oh!” Gojo flinches just as your body arches even deeper once he pokes his fat muscle past your tight ring. Leaving such a slew of wet slurps with every drag, he was dirty. “-according to what I’ve read, th-the clitoris is found at the top of the vulva. It should be located where the hah- labia-”

His words cut off with what you swear sounds like a strangled whimper when you harshly fist your digits into his silken-soft strands and push.

And you don’t notice it at the time, hell, even Gojo doesn’t notice with just how ruined he was right about now. 

But the sole moment you’re manhandling him to your will makes his flushed crownhead geyser out a torrential of cum. 

Fountaining out waves and waves of seed that paint his hefty base with a frosted ring. Such thickened volumes for the nth time tonight. Just from the roughened way that you were pushing him to make out with your pretty pussy.

He wanted to be used.

“Used, huh?” You’re letting out a murky pant of laughter- fuck, did he say that out loud? “Wanna be u-used, Satoru- wanna keep that big mouth of yours hngh- full?”

He’s nodding. Nodding and nodding and nodding with every sloppy gyration that you bestow all down his features. Huffing and puffing through every gasping breath he manages to shudder in, he’s shooting out a good mass of saliva. “Yes- ride me. Ride me. Fucking ride my face. A-always wanted you to ride me- hngh- please.” 

And how could you deny him when he’s all begging like that?

Gluey ropes of spit and slick lacquer Gojo’s chin like a smooth polish, and he’s sticking against you like he was just as clingy. Jaw grinding against your kinetically moving pussy, the pointed edge of his nose weaves from between your leaky slit and ends up pressing right onto your clit-

“O-oh!” Your head tumbles backwards with an ever-tightening grip onto his sweat-dampened locks. “Yeah- right there–”

“Here? Here?” He sounds like he couldn’t quite believe it. The ravenous edge of his thumb curling right up your soppy slit and pinning down your hooded clit. Hard. “The glans clitoris r-right here. And I found it- I found it.” Breathing out a long whistle that makes your heated skin bristle with goosebumps, “I always wondered what would h-happen if I…”

You barely even have the time to react before you’re staring at the glisten of Gojo’s sharp canines sneaking up to your sensitive nub and biting.

And he didn’t expect this.

He didn’t expect it to be better than the fanfiction-

Because your generous cunt just cascades in another jet of sappy juices, glazing Gojo’s features sexily all the way from his dimpled grin up to his glasses. 

They’re dripping wet, waterlogged with treacly film of slick that forces him to gawk up at you from below with such a loving gaze. Just the way he’s peering up at you is enough to make your breaths hitch.

“Gonna- gonna write about this, y’know? H-hope you know that this changed my hah- fuckin’ life, my princess…my girl.” Gojo drawls out lazily, movements as slow as if he was slipping through molasses when he sinks the rounded tips of his cushy fingers into your slick-flooded entrance. “Gonna h-have you for breakfast- for ah- lunch…aaaand for dinner.”

With a pitchy whine, you’re tightening your hold onto his thick locks and mushing his face so close. Close enough that you could already feel the mushy pout of his lips and that lazy chuckle.

Only then do you realize that he’s doing this on purpose. Mouthing off until you’re making both his chilling frames and his regal nose clash at the target of your clit with every repeated swivel, each glissading snog of his tongue making you throb. 

Everywhere. Anywhere. Everywhere and anywhere that he could reach.

“Such a dirty boy, huh?” You muse, swearing that that only makes him even sloppier. “S’that what you are? Ngh- bet you’ve never tasted a p-pussy before, huh?”

“N-nooo- haven’t. But are they all so…fucking delicious?” And he’s lapping up every sensual ounce, not letting even a tiny speckle go to waste. Because Gojo Satoru was kissing your pretty pussy like he could only dream of those long, lonely nights. 

You were a fucking dream - his dream.

The full force of his desperation hitting you when Gojo’s letting his drunken head loll ever-so-slightly backwards to take a good, long admiring look at your cunt. And you wonder if he could even see with his glasses all sodden and filthy like that. 

You wonder if he even realized when he’s leaving a lingering swat! of his plush fingertips right onto the bullseye of your pulsing button, and then another few at your fleshy channel. 

And it was so unfair how he was pummeling your poor gummy walls with swipe after swipe of his eager fingerpads working your glutinous walls open. Probing his neatly manicured fingers perfectly into your most tender spots. “Like that?”

“Sh-shiiit–” You’re mewling at the tautly coiling build-up at your cunt. Further and further. You felt like you were about to snap. “-is- is this my first time or yours, Toru–”

“Don’t know. Don’t care.” And Gojo’s palming his engulfing hands over the jiggling mounds of your ass to drag you like some ragdoll even deeper onto his sloppy maw. You’re forced to slap your hand onto the royal headboard to get at least some semblance of balance. “Jus’ want you- need you.”

Gawping up at you - he looks just as fucked-out as you feel. Blushing oh-so-innocently with his lecherous mouth slithering to steal a loud mwah! planted onto your salivating pussy. And then a final, weighty wad of spit. “Need me to be yours.” 

With a final, trembling shove of Gojo’s pretty face pliantly against your hot core, you’re cumming. Riding out your peak with stuttering rotations all over his lolled-out, bumpy tastebuds.

“Fuh-fuck!” You didn’t even care if you were getting his glasses messy at this point - he’d already made enough of a mess out of you. Embarrassingly so. “S’s-so good. Hah- gotta put your mouth to work more o-often, Satoru.”

And you can’t stop the way that your jaw parts into a soft oh! every time he pinches your bulbous clit at the very tip of every single one of your peaks. Right on time. More on sheer animal instinct than anything because Gojo’s still reeling from the fact that he made you cum.

He made you cum.

He made you cum.

He made you cum.

Babbling away just as stupidly as he had mere moments before, your orgasm is…magical. None of these haughty princes or dukes could ever compare to this. “S-such a good ngh- boy f’me.”

That is, until you feel Gojo tenderly curl his fingers around one of your stray ones to form a fist. Nudging it against one of yours in a…fistbump? 

“You have…no…fucking idea.” He’s letting out a drenching ptwah! of spittle, all the masses and rivulets of your sickeningly sweet juices sliding all the way down his tongue and pooling at the back of his throat. Like he always wanted your taste there.

And you’re still feeling the twinging tremors down your spine, flurries of stars bursting behind your hooded lids when he lets his sinfully long tongue slather your fluttering cunt with another hot kiss. 

Nose crinkling at how you’re stagnating your vigorous cadence, he bats his lashes up at your shocked stare - and you already know what his sapphire gaze is begging for before he even asks.

“Toru-”

“More.” Gojo interrupts you - and he knows he’ll beat himself up for it later. Maybe he’ll even…make it up to you. But for now, the only thing replaying on his cottony mind was just how perfect you looked cumming all over his mouth - even the specially-paid NSFW scenes didn’t go into this much detail. 

He was in heaven. 

You feel the humid brush of his tongue between your saturated pussylips, pleading. Begging. “Wan’ more- wanna taste you more, princess- please-”

And Gojo looks so fucking heartbroken the very moment those lips part with such a wet slurp! A low whine curdling at the back of his throat, his glossy lips curve downwards into a jutted-out pout.

He’s chasing after your pussy with absolutely no shame, greedy fingertips digging into the curve of your ass while he nudges you closer and closer. Stealing tiny kittenish licks, stealing longing whiffs just to smell the scent of your pussy.

“No- no- want- please-” He’s rambling away, half-lidded eyes widening with alarm. Like you were taking away his favorite dessert right from under his nose, and Gojo was not having it. 

But you knew a thing or two about ruling. 

And it’s with such smug satisfaction that you get to push down a wolfish Gojo so hard he collides back onto the mattress and bounces. 

Giggling - giggling, “S’this mean I get to…fuck you now?”

Oh, it’s spoken like a mantra. A true confession that he never even imagined would come out from those lips of his. 

You’re nodding, “Mhm— m’thinking that good boys get to hah- fuck me.” 

He’s ogling you right now when you meander between his milky legs just as you did before. Except, this time, you’re stopping right at the defined v-line of his sculptured hips. Darting thumb rubbing back and forth over the pooling streaks of cum from just before. 

“Did you cum without me ngh- again, Toru?” You’re teasing, and he almost feels so pathetic the way his mouth latches onto the curve of your sheened digits and sucks. “That’s not what a good-”

“I am I am-” Gojo insists, brows furrowing. He’s so unsure what to do, so unsure what to even think other than looping his arms around your waist to tug, tug, tug you ever-closer. It’ll never be enough. “Promise I’ll be a- ngh-”

Shit.

Your fingers shackle a tight grip around his pale, prespired neck. He looks so gorgeous squirming underneath you like this - squirming for more, that is. 

“Then you better promise to fuck me really good, Satoru.” Your whispers come out in a honeyed tone that wafts against his reddening ears. Maybe because of that, maybe because of the way your nails claw marks, you feel his plumpened head twitch. “Really good.”

His head lolls all the way into your grasp, he was done. Murmuring, “I’ll be a really, really good boy- ma’am.”

That did it.

And before Gojo knows it, you’re letting his syrupy mushroom tip slip in a few thick inches with ease. Geysers of his pre trickling out from between the tight stretch of your gluey hole, sinking in more and more.

Gojo’s mouth opens with a slow leak of drool with just how warm you were hugging him from the inside. Your candied walls so fucking clingy that he finds himself choking out a huff, planting two steadying hands on either side of your waist and pushing-

“Oh fuck- oh fuck.” His eyes grow adorable wide, stare perched right down where he was disappearing in and out of you in mindless, rapid ruts just to bully himself inside. “Th-this feels nothing like my P-Pocketpussy3000-”

“Toru…” Your words come out in a growl, crescent nail leaving neat indentations on his column of skin. 

“J-just feels so much better, my girl.” Gojo insists, something swirling deeply in his eyes that makes your heartbeat irregular. “You’re so…so warm and- and wet. That stupid rubber could never compare to the adventitia and musclaris and- and I’m really fucking you.”

He is. 

He was, at least until only a few vulgarly deep strokes probing in about halfway down his swollen shaft makes Gojo bump his ridged slit against one of those spots. The globe of Gojo’s proud cockhead leaves a hefted thud! that thunders pure bliss into your fuzzy head and makes you clench.

And it makes him cum. Again.

Wet spurts of warm seed splashing into each n’ every inch inside of you and filling you all the way up to the brim. There’s so many of his copious ribbons sloshing around inside of you, and it doesn’t even make Gojo’s tempo slow down.

It doesn’t even make him falter. 

“Sh-shiiiit-” He’s hissing, lower lip worried and fussed between his teeth until you were sure he’d be drawing blood. “Cumming—!”

Dipping down a few fingers to part your soppy lips, Gojo’s thrusts get more relentless when he catches his eyes on the steady waterfall of cum and slick seeping into his hoodie. Fucking the webbed mess deeper - but it only wrings out more pearly wads streaming down. 

Gojo’s voice wrenches out from the very back of his throat in a stubborn mewl, just about five octaves higher than you’re used to. “I came…inside.”

The one n’ only warning you get before he hooks an arm around the small of your back and flips the two of you over. Easily. 

Back sinking into the velvety bed-covering, your spine arches in a geometrical semicircle off the mattress as Gojo takes the blasphemous opportunity to bottom out. His meaty tip finally meets the target of your spongy cervix, breeder balls clashing stickily into the split end of your folds with a hulking thwack!

And you’re almost wondering at just how it was possible that Gojo - nervous, bumbling Gojo Satoru who’d never even held hands with a woman before - had the willpower and strength to overpower a seasoned fighter like you.

But that’s when he tugs his utterly sullied hoodie off and you’re rendered thoughtless. Mouth watering at the toned ridges and curves that bulged all over his Herculean body.

Gojo wasn’t just toned - he was fucking jacked.

And all yours for the taking.

Just your greedy stare is enough to wash his cheekbones with a scorching blush, as if he wasn’t near-nine inches deep inside you already. You gasp when his tongue pokes out to catch a few dripping splat! splat! splats! of your slick still dripping from his glasses. “I-I read in a director’s cut that you like men with abs so I…” 

And before you can even respond, his hips do all the talking for you. Striking your own with a deafening pap! of skin-on-skin, broad pecs heaving with a sharp inhale as if he didn’t even realize what he was doing. Wasn’t in control. 

Two of his doughy palms veer underneath your now-jittery thighs and hoist them up effortlessly to dangle over his shoulders. 

Gojo’s letting off a low grunt when his curvaceous knees slide wider across the pricey bedsheets. All the while mumbling, “N’ just because m’a hah- virgin doesn’t mean I don’t know a thing or two. Like- I saw this thing ngh- o-online called a…” Bending you like a pliant lawnchair down, down, down- “-a mating press.”

Online? Mating press? You didn’t know what he was rambling on nonsensically about now, but maybe you could excuse that with the fact that he was stretching you out stupid. 

“What a pretty boy.” You’re managing out, fingers unsticking a few strands of pearly white plastering onto his forehead. “Now s-stop teasing and hngh- fuck me.”

Your words are jolting such a dark, primal part of his brain. Eyes hooded, teeth pulling back with a low whimper of ah! The bed sings out a protesting creak when Gojo’s hand comes slamming! down onto the poor frame. Spitting out, “I-I can’t stop…fuck- I can’t stop. Won’t-”

He’s pushing and pushing his ravenous hips in animalistic little humps, the cylindrical shape of his cock swabbing in sultry circles around your gooey insides. Already splitting you apart snugly to the brim, but still he’s drilling in for more.

“You hafta move, Satoru-” Even your most gentle tone is enough to make his strawberry divot sugarcoat you in a thickly viscous few spatters of pre.

And when he talks he sounds wild, “Do I- haaaah- do I really hafta move? Jus’ wanna lose my virginity like this. Wanna stay inside you forever and ever and ever.”

He was already pussydrunk.

And it’s so cute it makes your heart clench. All over six feet of him melting into you by now; head heatedly shoved against the crook of your neck, motions glissading a slip n’ slide of his sexily defined abs pinned to your front. Powerless. 

Gojo blinks up at you through thoroughly hazy eyes when you tilt his face back up to face yours, and the deep eye-contact makes him blush. 

“But I really, really wan’ you to hah- fuck me.” You pout, and you already know by the stutter in his labored breathing that you have him wrapped around your cute lil’ finger. Jostling your hips in a slight buck, “Look-she’s begging for ya already.”

Oh. 

“Is- is she really?” Gojo sighing out in surprise, eyes pondering down to where he was making your puffed-up pussy folds bulge. Slipping out a gasp before he’s clutching onto his nose to stop any more bleeding.

Your slobbering lips coated with a glimmer of his spit and cum, so very his that Gojo finds himself subconsciously nodding along to the sappy squelches bubbling from below. 

“Yes- yes you’re right–” Propelling a slow drag of his hips to sweep every hidden orifice of yours inside, “Oh! Ya got l-louder- so you agree-”

He’s hiking up your legs even further up his shoulders, interlocking them with one massively flexing bicep held behind his head. Eyes still locked below - only then do you realize that he’s not talking to you. 

And then again. And again. And again and again until Gojo was striking your poor cervix with repeated battering rams of his plump cock. Dense balls stinging against your ass with ringing thwacks. Spherical bruises of his circumference being indented over n’ over it’s like he doesn’t even realize. 

Didn’t even know he was doing anything other than wrenching out the most sinful noises from your goopy pussy. 

“Mhm- such a pretty ngh- pussy.” Spitting out the very word like it was embarrassing, two sizeable fingers latch around the plump peak of your clit. Transfixed. You wondered whether he even remembered his own name. “Such a pretty clit.”

“Fuck!” You’re halfway through sobbing when he sends shockwaves of pleasure all across your body. And even more so when one tilted drive of all his inches leaves a skidding skim down the area of your g-spot. “There- right there, Satoru-”

He’s gaping up at you as if suddenly snapped out of a hypnotic trance, only to fall into an all-new one. Disbelieving mouth parted slightly, he breathes, “I’m…fucking you. I’m actually- ohhh fuck m’fucking you- like really, truly. This isn’t a dream.” Like he just realized - and he just did. “M’giving you my cock- making you t-take alllll of it-”

Never in his life did he think anything could ever feel this good. He was never going back. He would never be the same. 

Your drooling pussy was molding around him so nicely, taking onto the very shape of his long shaft. Massaging every inflamed vein poking against your splashed walls, so warm with the leftover puddles of his own sticky cum.

 He’s worshipping you, tilting his head to place a heady trailway of wet kisses down each of your ankles. “M’yours so m’-” Then your calves, your tits, your collarbones, everywhere and anywhere-

“-m’gonna make feel h-hah good.” His nose scrunches with focus, a few fat ends of Gojo’s fingers come down from pinning your ankles to splay out on your tummy. All bloated with his thick outline that even through his fogged-up glasses, he swears he could see a bulge. “Need to find it- need to.”

Pound after pound being placed desperately onto everywhere he could reach inside of you. You can feel the baking hot swash of his sap coating you in a second skin. Each dab of his ballooned crownhead leaves behind a marking bead of buttery pre. 

And maybe it was the way you’re feeling the slow trickle of all his sappy torrentials inside you, but you’re gurgling out a little, “What- what are you-”

“The g-spot.” Gojo answers your messy blithers of syllables with a tender rub onto your clit. Though, he wasn’t too far behind himself, if the way his digits trembled told you anything. “It’s s-supposed to be somewhere in the hah- anterior vaginal wall, between your pretty hole and the urethra. Often said to be stimulated about a few inches ngh- up-” 

But this time, you’re the one cutting him off. With a rapid, deprived rut that bustles his left-leaning curve to head in a jackhammer precisely towards your bulging g-spot. 

And then you see white. 

Perhaps from the sheer shock of him leaving a good French kiss that tenderizes your sweetest hidden coves, perhaps from the way that the both of you are cumming. 

“Shit- shiiiit-” You’re perking your ass to smack against his in lewd little paps, half-formulated moans flooding your mouth with each delicious thrust being planted right onto that spot. Gojo’s fucking you through each of your edges, over and over until you feel yourself crashing back-to-back into not one, not two, but three orgasms. “Really did fuck me- hngh- ah-”

Before you even realize, you’re throwing your arms around Gojo’s rippling shoulder muscles to claw a few artistic lines of red. And he loves it- fuck, it makes him cum even harder. 

“S-spit in my mouth, ma’am.”

And when you do, he latches onto yours with a messy, messy open-mouthed makeout. Groaning around his second-favorite activity of sucking your cute tongue - his most favorite activity being fucking this depraved cunt of yours. 

Cumming and cumming until he physically can’t. Steady rivers of seed logging up whatever remnant space inside your snug cunt before he sputters out sheer nothingness. 

A shiver wracks through Gojo’s body with the way he was cumming dry. And once he spies down a few whipped globs of it spilling out to form a velvety ring around his base, he’s plugging your leaky entrance with a few free fingers.

Lapping up that trickling excess with a slow suck peering right into your eyes before he seals you with his jostling digits back up again.

“Love it- love it love it love it-” He’s letting loose with each spasm of parching cum overspilling your flooded insides, those ribbony meshes swirl all around his pumping cock and trickle down in a creamy stream. Coating his twitchy balls no matter how much he tries to make you milk up every ounce, so much of it. Hot. “Love it- love being your good boy- I love you.”

Gojo’s heart races when you only plant a cute peck onto his sheened glasses, and then another onto his mouth. Resting your sweaty head against his very own, “How would ya like to be my own royal consort, Toru?”

Ah, it was virtually a proposal. To stay by your side forever and ever and ever - the only thing he’s ever wanted, really.

And Gojo’s about to kiss your awaiting lips senseless as an answer- that is, he was about to before both your ears chime with an undeniable PING!

Before an agitating, gratingly familiar voice rings across your heady atmosphere, “Congratulations user: [Satorulovesprincess] on completing Mission: No-Longer-Virgin!” You’re wincing at the sterile glow of that screen once more. “Please await the new updates to the program Sweetheart Online.”

And you both barely even have time to register those words before there’s a thunderous creak! from the empty space of your royal bed.

Except…the bed wasn’t so empty anymore. 

Right with your heated proximity was a man - a beautiful man. All long legs, and inky hair that ran down to his slender waist, twinkling amethyst eyes rounded in the exact same shock that shone in Gojo’s right about now. 

“Suguru?”

“Satoru!” Before he’s tilting his head towards you, and perhaps most glaringly, the way that Gojo was still scouring deeply inside you. A delicate blush tints his - Suguru’s - high cheekbones, voice cracking embarrassingly at the end. “P-princess.”

And something about his tone made your cunt quiver - just in time for Geto to shuffle the tightening crotch of his pants. Something that Gojo noticed, if the way he was crushing you to his body even tighter said anything.

“Let me guess-” Gojo tilts his head, a sleazily drunken smirk curving the edges of his ruddied lips. “-the truck got you haaaah- don’ squeeze me like that, my girl– too?”

“It- it was ramen poisoning actually…” Geto’s deep baritone trails off, struggling to rip his eyes away from you as the screen flickers once more. 

“Sweetheart Online updates completed! Commencing Love Rival (Three’s Company) arc. User: [Sugulovesprincess] joined.”

A/N. MAN I love loserboy Gojo hehehe- hope you have a lovely week <3

Plagiarism not authorized.

[parkersbliss]

you lock the 141 outside your house (I know my rights tiktok)

pairing: task force 141 (ghost, gaz, price, soap) x american!female reader 

synopsis: you lock them out of your (their?) house, claiming you "know your rights." based on a tiktok trend with soldiers.

warnings: none just fluff and humor :)))

a/n: I wrote this in like an hour and I think it's the funniest thing EVER thanks

Masterlist | Taglist | Prompt List

requests open for tf141!

SEE TIKTOK HERE

—

Ghost: 

You watch as your boyfriend gets out of his truck in the driveway. He grabs his bag from the passenger seat and makes his way to the front door, a smile twitching under his mask at the sight of you waiting for him. 

Just as he steps to the porch, you close the door and lock it. “I know my third amendment rights!”

Ghost stops at the door, dropping his bag. Rights? What were you talking about? “Your what?” 

“No Soldier shall, in time of peace, be quartered in any house without the consent of the owner,” You reply, reading off your phone. 

Ghost sighs. Third amendment? Of course, the one American he dates is the one that has them all memorized. You could probably recite them in your sleep. Patriotism, or whatever. Which makes zero sense. You were living with him in Manchester. If all went well and you got married, he was making sure he changed your status to British. 

“You fucking Americans.” He grabs the key from his bag, going to unlock the door only to find you locking it. “Are you serious?”

You show your phone at him through the glass, the third amendment displayed on a Google search. He stares back at you from his mask, unamused. “Bloody hell, woman,” he mutters. 

You giggle from behind the door and give him a few more minutes before going to unlock it. You knew Simon’s limits. You only needed a few seconds of fun anyway, but by the time you unlock it, he’s gone. 

“Simon?” You call out, poking your head out the door and checking around the house. His truck was still there, so he didn’t turn back around. You don’t see any movements or even hear anything. Was he picked up by aliens? 

A thud sounds from behind you, and you yelp, shutting the door and turning around. 

Simon stands in front of you, arms crossed and his duffel bag on the floor.

“What the hell?” You said, looking him up and down. 

“I should be asking you that,” He retorts. “You should really lock your windows, love.” 

“Are you… did you climb through one?” 

“You locked me out.” 

“I went to unlock it!” 

“Third amendment rights, my arse.” He grabs your waist, pulling you towards him. “We’re in England.” 

You shrug, tracing up his arm. “Thought it was funny.” 

Simon just sighs. “Americans.” 

Gaz: 

“Oh, hell no!” You exclaim as Gaz approaches the door. “I know my third amendment rights.” The lock clicks. 

“No fucking way,” Gaz said, strolling up to the glass storm door. 

“No soldiers in this home.” 

He stares at you, his hands on his hips and that signature scowl on his face. There was no way he was coming home to this bullshit right now. “Open the door.” 

“No quartering soldiers without my permission,” You replied. 

Gaz rolls his eyes. Your home? He was pretty sure his name was on the mortgage, even if you were living in it 90% of the time. “I own the fucking property! I live here. You’re the guest.” 

You shrug, grinning. “Not anymore.” 

He runs a hand down his face. Sometimes just sometimes he regrets finding your stubbornness so damn attractive.  “I’m going to crash out, actually.” 

“Crash outside? Yeah.”

“Let me in!” He shouts, grabbing the door handle and jiggling it. 

“No!” You shout back, holding onto it and preventing him from entering without your permission. 

Gaz leans against the glass. “Remind me why I chose to date an American?” 

You smile at him. “Because we’re funny, and we have better Chinese food.” 

He glares at you, trying to unlock the door again. He groans when there’s no avail. “Babe!” 

You say nothing, finding his annoyance quite amusing and a change of pace for once. 

And then he actually crashes out, grabbing the handle and pulling, twisting, pounding at it. He yells a string of curse words and then starts banging on the doorframe. He gives up, frowning, and leans his forehead on the glass. “Please?” 

You unlock it. “Thought you’d never ask.” 

He storms inside, throwing you over his shoulder. “You are so in for it.” 

“I like where this is going,” You giggle as he throws you on the couch. 

He raises a brow, hands coming to your waist. “Yeah?” He starts tickling you. You yelp, laughing under him and trying to push away. 

Gaz doesn’t relent and continues tickling you even after you’ve pleaded with him to stop. “You lock me out of my fucking claim it’s your right,” He mutters. “Consider this my very reasonable punishment.” 

Soap: 

“I know my rights!” You shout, watching Soap approach the door. 

He stops in his tracks, tilting his head. He had no idea what you said. The poor guy could barely hear from all the bombs going on around him, and you shout through a door? Good plan.  “What are you on about?” He asked. 

“There will be no soldiers in my home!” You close the glass door and lock it. 

He approaches the front door, staring at you through the glass. His expression is clueless, brows furrowed. “You mean our home?” He knocks on the glass. “Can I come in?” 

“Nope!” 

He frowns. “Why?” 

“Third amendment.” 

“Amendment?” He scoffs. What the hell are you talking about? Is this what he gets for dating an American? You start proclaiming your rights? What’s next, the pledge of allegiance? “Are you taking the piss? Does this look like the land of the free?” 

You giggle at him, his accent thickening with his frustration. “I’m still an American!” 

“Trust me, I know! Can I please come inside?” 

“No soldiers allowed.” You tape up a piece of paper displaying those words. 

Soap continues frowning at you and realizes he isn’t going to be let in anytime soon. It’s a good thing he knew how to easily change that. Americans and their rights. More like Americans and their feelings. He sits down on the porch steps, facing away from you, rests his chin in his hand, and sighs loudly. 

You don’t budge. 

He sighs again, kicking his boots on the porch, turning back at you with sad eyes. Still nothing. He concludes there was one last option to get you to let him in. He grabs his phone, and you watch with furrowed brows as he types something in. Suddenly, music is blasting from his phone as he looks at you with the biggest puppy dog eyes ever. Not just any music, but the sad hamster violin music. 

“Oh my god.” You unlock the door, opening it up to him. “You’re such a baby.” 

He practically skips inside, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Your baby.”

Price: 

Your husband stands on the porch, rolling his eyes at you.

“I know my rights!” You shout at him through the window. 

“Do you, now?” He asked, playing along with your prank or whatever this was. If it brought you this much amusement to lock him out, he might as well indulge in it. That was the kind of man he was. Until he started freezing of course, then he would demand you let him in. 

You nod your head. “As an American, amendment 3 of the Bill of Rights says that I don’t have to house you if I don’t want to.” 

Price hums. At least they taught you something in American schools. “Does that extend when you’re in another country?” 

“It does to me.” 

He huffs, grabbing something from his pocket and displaying it to you. “You know I have a house key, yes?”

“I’ll just lock it again.” 

He tilts his head at you. You were really trying to sell whatever rights you thought you had. “Really?” 

“I’m taking this very seriously.” 

Price strokes his beard. “I can see that.” An idea pops into his head, and he steps away from the glass and in front of the door. You didn’t want to let him in? That’s fine. You wanted to lock the door? No problem. He’s got methods of entering from being in the military, after all. “Guess I’ll just have to kick down the door.” He raises his foot, fully intent on doing it. You were going to repaint the door anyway, might as well get a new one. 

You swing open the door. “Are you crazy?” 

He strolls past you. “Did I lock you outside our home? Besides, crazy would’ve been bombing the house.” 

Your lips parted, unsure if he was joking. You assume he is, but his expression says otherwise. “Are you being serious?” 

He laughs at your face, grabbing your hand. “Only if you start proclaiming your rights again.”

You put your hands up. “What rights? Suddenly, I’m feeling like this soldier can stay as long as he likes.” 

Price presses a gentle kiss to your lips. “Thought so.” 

[chuluoyi]

✎ a birthday to remember

- gojo satoru x reader

what is the so-called grand surprise does your husband prepare for your birthday?

genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—massive fluff, comfort, pregnant!reader, (cough) pregnant sex

note: hi peeps it's been ages since i last wrote gojo :') and love entries on that matter *sobs* but here it is... my birthday has passed too but here's to any of you whose birthday is near!

a part of gojo's love entries

general masterlist

“Sensei— happy birthday!”

This year, your birthday happened to fall on a workday.

If it were up to you, you would have taken the day off. However, Satoru had been assigned to Osaka and wouldn’t be returning until weekend, so taking leave and staying at home would most likely make you feel lonely.

Not only that, with you entering the fifth month of pregnancy, you figured it was better to stay active. And by the end of the day—you didn’t regret coming in at all. The students were all so sweet, they even chimed in to get you a pretty maternity dress to wear. You couldn’t wait to tell Satoru about them tonight.

You skipped happily toward the parking lot, but right when you turned the corner, suddenly—

“Wifeeeey!”

“Oh my god!”

You let out a loud gasp and took a step back, taking in the view. A sea of colorful balloons, with a man in suit standing right in the middle of it—

Your husband. In flesh. You blinked once, twice— thrice.

“Satoru...?”

He poked his head out of the string of balloons, a beaming, million-dollar grin lit up his face at the sight of your shocked expression. “Wifeeey! Happy birthdaaaaay!”

Before you could even process his sudden appearance, he had you in a chokehold, engulfing you in a bear hug and nuzzling his face against yours with childlike enthusiasm, the faint scent of his cologne filling your senses.

“What are you doing here?!” you half-shrieked, the surprise spilling from your voice.

He pulled back, frowning dramatically. “Ehhh? You don’t want me to be back?”

“Yes—”

His eyes widened as if you’d just committed the gravest betrayal. “You big meanie!”

“No,” you quickly retracted, trying to hold back your own smile at how comically dejected he was. “I mean… aren’t you supposed to be back on Sunday?”

“Heh heh, nope! I lied~” Satoru chirped, his grin returning in full force. “It’s my wifey’s birthday—how could I not come back for you?”

In that moment, your heart fluttered. He was probably saying it for no reason, but the fact that he really did fly back from Osaka just to meet you for your birthday meant a lot to you.

His big, warm hand then gently caressed your visible baby bump, his grin widening when he got a kick. “Ah, right… Hello to you too, baby! Did I startle you too? Sorry~”

You rolled your eyes, retorting, “He is terrified.”

Satoru leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper directed at your belly. “Don’t worry, baby. Papa’s here now, and he’s got balloons. That makes everything better, right?”

“...how long have you been standing here with these balloons?”

“Hmmm, not long. About an hour, maybe?”

“You shithead—why didn’t you just come inside?”

Satoru’s gasp of mock offense made you laugh despite yourself. “And ruin the surprise? My wifey deserves the full dramatic effect!”

Being Gojo Satoru’s wife certainly came with its fair share of patience-testing episodes, and sometimes you wanted to return him to Yaga for additional lessons of discipline.

But it was candid, over-the-top acts like this that reminded you just how lucky you were to have him.

Satoru brought you to a high-end restaurant for your birthday dinner before the two of you finally returned home.

And the moment you opened the door, you were greeted by countless balloons floating on the ceiling and the ground, the fairy lights illuminating the room in a cozy glow.

You were taken aback, mesmerized by the sight. “When did you even have the time to decorate the house?”

He grinned, looking far too pleased with himself. “I have many little helpers—”

“Don't tell me it's Ichiji and Nanami? Satoru, you—!”

“I promised Nanami I wouldn’t make him blow up balloons! Though I might have heard him grumble something about being above this…”

"You're unbelievable..." You let out a resigned sigh, yet still smiling as you stepped further into the living room, now bathed in the soft, golden glow.

Satoru observed you with a quiet smile. His pretty wife, and the small life within you. He adored you the most out of everyone else in this twisted world.

Click! Click!

"Huh?" You turned to him when you heard the distinct sound of a camera shutter.

Satoru was holding his phone, an amused glint in his eyes. “Just capturing the moment, you know. You, the lights, and baby. It's perfect.”

You giggled. “You really can’t help yourself, can you?”

He shrugged, that signature grin returning. “What can I say? You’re beautiful.”

Later, you'd find out that one of the photos would be his lock screen from now on. It would be the first thing he saw every time he unlocked his phone.

Satoru brought out the box he had prepared, handing it to you with a sly grin. “Look, sweets, before we go to bed, I have one more gift for you—and you have to wear it now.”

You arched an eyebrow, curiosity piqued, as you took the box from his hands. The moment you opened it and pulled out the contents, you froze.

“—?! Satoru!”

A scarlet lingerie set. The bra features intricate lace trim along the edges, and the matching panties are equally bold, with a sheer lace overlay. Your cheeks flushed as you glanced at Satoru, who was watching you with an winning grin, clearly pleased with his choice.

“What?” he challenged. “They'll suit you, c'mon.”

“You're absolutely shameless.”

“But you love me anyway~”

You let out a defeated sigh, glancing up at him, already realizing there was no way out of this now.

“You’re lucky I’ve hit my head somewhere and married you.”

. . .

He was right. It fit you perfectly.

The moment you got out of the bathroom, Satoru could feel himself getting hard already. You looked like a vision, the deep red seemed to highlight your every curve, turning you into an effortless seductress.

And not only that, you were adorable too— fiddling with your fingers and touching your rounded belly, barely hiding how self-conscious you were.

"Don't just stare at me..." you mumbled, glaring at him.

He reached out, gently brushing his fingers against your cheek, his touch tender despite the fire in his eyes. “You’re making it hard to look away, you know.”

His hands then trailed down, skimming the sides of your body, each touch lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch. It was almost as if he was unraveling you, piece by piece, and you weren’t sure whether to pull away or pull him closer.

And wait... was it just you or were the space between your legs indeed getting hotter and wetter?

As if reading your mind, suddenly two of his fingers touched your barely clad pussy, and you gasped. That's right— there is indeed a hole in this freaking lingerie!

"Are... we...?" you swallowed, your gaze meeting his.

"Can I?" he asked back, voice husky. His crystal clear eyes burning with lust as he assessed you— from your eyes, lips, and then the inviting sight of your cleavage.

Did you want this?

Of course you were. Your birthday was still far from over, and you missed him too.

In response, you pushed his already hovering fingers inside you, making you hold your breath. From that point on, Satoru knew what you wanted.

Without another word, he rubbed soft circles around your clit, and you let out an unabashed moan at the contact, clinging to his shoulders for support. "Ahh..."

He teased you for a while, before slowly entering his fingers into your throbbing folds, and you were close to collapsing if it weren't for his secure hold over you.

"You're so, so damn naughty..." he whispered lowly in your ear. It was taking everything he had not to lose it right then and there. He wanted you to be as comfortable as possible, but the sight of your writhing face and that baby bump was damn distracting and ignited the beast inside him.

He made you pregnant already, but there was just this primal desire— wanting to mark you more...

His fingers slowly pumped in and out of you, dragging them deep but just not deep enough—

"Please..." you scratched his back unwittingly, frustrated at his shirt that got in the way. "I-I... want... you..."

How sweet. Satoru relished in your titillating breaths and chuckled, vigorously continuing his dirty ministrations.

"Say it louder," he growled in your ears. "Can't hear you."

The bastard. You yanked his hair and made him catch your teary gaze. "I... want you..."

Sinful desire flared to life at your words. "Your wish is my command, missus."

Satoru suddenly pulled out his fingers—ignoring the whine you accidentally let out for being empty all of a sudden—and admired the sheen, sticky whiteness on them.

"I barely did anything and you're this wet already," he snorted, tasting it. "They're right about the pregnancy hormones."

He placed his hand on your waist, pressing a kiss on the firm skin of your belly, before undoing his belt and trousers and pulling out his hardened member.

The sight made you actually gulp, especially when he pumped it. He pulled you to his lap and guided his pride to your sopping entrance. The moment he inserted himself, he let out a groan of relief, while you arched your back and hissed, "Ngh!"

Satoru captured your lips, his hand pressing against your aching spine. He pulled you closer, urging you to take him completely.

"Ahh— ugh... mrgh!" you sighed against his neck as soon as you did, trying to even your breath. This was something you had done so many times before, but why was this time felt like an awakening of some sorts?

"Most beautiful," he breathed in your ear wickedly. "Don't worry, leave everything to me."

He rocked his hips against yours, one hand on your back and the other gripping your thigh. With each salacious thrust, you mewled and he panted, keeping you steady all the while.

He could feel your baby bump rubbing against as his toned abs, going along with the rhythm. Satoru grinned proudly, noticing how much it had grown over the past few months. The baby must be healthy in there, huh?

The relief somehow spurred him into pick up his pace, thrusting you more deeply than before. You almost squealed.

"You know what?" he grunted, mind hazed. He didn't really realize what he was saying to you, to be honest. "You're the prettiest when you're like this— round and full, with my kid."

You only caught the lewdness in his words, but you weren't able to ponder about it as he suddenly buried his face into your supple breasts.

"Look at them, getting bigger too— these days..." He sucked on the sensitive skin and you gasped in pleasure, crying out afterwards when he fondled them with both hands.

Your senses were overly heightened and you knew you wouldn't last long. Satoru too knew he was nearing his orgasm as he tore your new bra and sucked on the mound, furthering your never-ending moans, causing your eyes to roll back as the blinding pleasure overtook you— pushing you to cum right then and there.

In the next second, he pushed you into him impossibly deeper, and his hot release gushed inside your womb. You writhed at the sudden fullness, before getting limp and collapsed into him, not even realizing that you had squirted all over his lap and dress shirt.

Your husband glanced at you, in disbelief himself at the messy scene, but utterly satisfied as his bright eyes twinkled. "Heh..."

You were awoken at three in the morning, and the first thing you noticed was that you were in Satoru's warm embrace.

His arms were wrapped around you securely, holding you close as if he were protecting you even in his sleep. You must have passed out afterwards, as all you recalled was the numbing exhaustion.

Yet you knew for certain that Satoru had cleaned you up, dressed you in your pajamas, and even placed a heat pad on your hips to soothe you.

(He remembered the one time you woke up with cramps right after a raunchy night before)

Your husband was a cheeky shit, but for you, he was willing to go extra miles. It was an overlooked fact sometimes due to how unserious he was, but each time he did and you were reminded of it, your heart always soared.

Looking up, you found his peaceful sleeping face, and not for the first time, you couldn’t help but marvel at how truly handsome he was. A soft smile tugged at your lips as you gently caressed his face.

"Hmm...?" he frowned adorably, and you almost giggled. But when he cracked his eyes open, you almost regretted it—oh yes, he is a light sleeper.

"Sweets...? Can't sleep...?" He turned to you, voice thick with sleepiness. "Anything wrong?"

"No, I'm just watching you." You smiled, poking his cheek. "Go back to sleep."

"Really? Nothing's amiss?" His hand gently slid to your belly, giving it a reassuring rub. "You have to tell me if anything’s not right..."

"Hush, I'm fine."

After making sure you were indeed fine, Satoru tightened his arms over you and pressed his eyes shut. You wrapped your arms around his back in response, feeling his steady warmth. Right in this moment, you were overwhelmed with this gentle, soft feeling— love, the kind he gave you so freely and candidly.

Your birthday had passed, but if there was one wish only he could fulfill, surely you could still ask him, right?

"Satoru..." you muttered, feeling the cool breeze of the air conditioner lulling you back to sleep. "Will you stay with me... forever?"

A smile curled on his lips at your question, his eyes still closed. "Silly girl, it's your bedtime, so why ask that?"

You thought he wouldn't answer it as he didn't say anything more. But right before you drift into deep sleep, he pressed a sweet kiss to the crown of your head, giving you his promise— one that felt truer than anything else he had said to you before.

"I will... so you must stay with me too, got it?"

[luveline]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐬

Aaron sets the record straight when an overheard conversation convinces you that you’re not good enough for him. 5k

c: fem, hurt/comfort, fluff, suggestive theme (non-graphic implied sex scene). hotch is a good husband. requested here  

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

“Honey, this is Clint McMoore. We went to college together.”

You step into Aaron’s side. Clint McMoore is a handsome older man with silvering hair and a beard that looks out of control. His bowtie is loose around his neck, and his cheeks are blotchy with drink, but Clint smiles at you and offers his hand. “How do you do?” he asks. 

“Quite well, thank you.” You’ve been practising fancy dinner talk with Aaron’s friend Emily for weeks. She has all the political background you’d needed to see yourself into the culture. “It’s nice to meet one of Aaron’s school friends.” 

“While you still can,” Clint says with a chuckle. Something about being in your forties is obscene to these men, as though death waits for fifty candles to snuff them out. 

“Clint and I were in the Student Theatre club together, our first year.”

You grin, smile laced with teasing. Each time you’re reminded of Aaron’s young interest in drama, you have to focus very hard on not laughing; the Aaron who has his hand to your shoulder isn’t one you could envision on stage. “Did you perform together?” you ask. 

“Saturday Night Fever,” Clint says. 

They laugh and reminisce. You find these sorts of events hard to keep up with, but you come when Aaron asks because he so rarely asks you for anything. He hasn’t mentioned knowing that you don’t like coming, But perhaps he hasn’t noticed —it’s not like you to frown, not when you’re with Aaron. The way he treats you, he probably thinks you’re the happiest girl in the world. 

There’s a contentedness to be found when he touches you. He spreads a hand against your lower back and you let yourself sink into his side, curled into his embrace and amazed at the giggly laugh he lets out as Clint brings up the ‘King of the River’ tattoo Aaron has hidden beneath his shirt. You’re tempted to kiss his cheek.

Clint asks, “Isn’t that right?” and forces you back into the conversation. 

You’re wearing a dress you panicked over for days. It’s black, cut playfully just above your knees with small petal sleeves. Your necklace is of a delicate chain and a not so delicate pearl —a black Tahitian South Sea pearl that glows pink and green in the light. For you, Aaron wrote, his pretty scrawl inky across a square of scalloped card from atop the box. I’m in love with you. Forgive me for not having the courage to tell you in person. 

Your Aaron is quiet. Some days he comes home from work and doesn’t manage more than a sentence. Some days he can barely speak at all. But there are nights when he holds you to hold you and talks in murmurs against your ear, and he’s good at making calls when he’s away. Talking or not, smiling or otherwise, Aaron finds a way to let you know he loves you, and that’s all you care about. 

“Excuse us,” Aaron says, giving Clint a rare, warm smile, “I’m being flagged by my boss.” 

Sure enough, Erin Strauss is beckoning Aaron with a strange pained look.

“Nice to meet you,” you say quickly to Clint. He repeats your goodbye, and you and Aaron swerve around him. 

“He was nice,” you murmur. 

“Yeah, he’s okay.”

“How come you fell out of touch?” 

“Oh, you know how things go, honey, you forget all the people you meet and make room for new ones.” He kisses your cheek. “And besides, he used to gossip like my mother. Why don’t you go find JJ?” 

“You’ll be alright?” 

“No, maybe not.” He squeezes your elbow quickly. “Go, find some hors d’oeuvres, at least.”

You find neither JJ nor finger foods. The gala you’re attending is being held in a hotel in the richest part of D.C, and the events hall is huge. The ceiling is a fantasy, glass and miles upward, overhead chandeliers dangling lower, dousing the crowds below in a light that’s clean. The rich and powerful gather at the edges of the room, though the performance toward the back of the room is watched by a few tens of couples with flutes of champagne held in gloved hands. 

You hadn’t worn gloves. Hadn’t thought about it until you got here. Honestly, you felt grateful enough that JJ texted you to tell you to buy a shawl; if you weren’t wearing one you’re sure you’d feel bare. 

What you’re lacking in fancy is made up for by your earnestness, or so you’d like to believe. You aren’t rich nor powerful, but Aaron’s a good man and you his good wife. You work hard, which is more than some of the richest in the room can say. You hold your head high without a second thought. 

The hall is confusing. Tables are set but you aren’t sure Aaron said anything about a dinner service. Wait staff carry silver platters and hold bottles of champagne, but each time you approach one they seem to have already headed in another direction. JJ and Derek are both supposed to be here tonight, but you haven’t seen either of them since you arrived. You cast your gaze for Derek’s figure, searching for an easy gait and a strong set of shoulders. You cock your head waiting for a hint of JJ’s practised, polite laughter, but any familiar signs are gone. You can’t even find Aaron anymore, and your shoes are pinching your toes.

Disaster. You should’ve listened to Aaron when he told you to size up, just you doubted his knowledge of ladies shoes considering how rarely he wears them. Stupid man, you think to yourself, lovingly yet ruefully as you sit down at one of the uninhabited tables to the very side of the room. Knows everything. Tonight, you’ll limp back to the car and he won’t bother saying I told you so, he’s too good for it, which is worse. He’ll give you one of his amused smiles. He might offer you a massage. 

Ridiculous man, you further to yourself, biting back a cheesy smile as you peel your shoe from a sore foot. If you shove your hand deep enough into the toe you can stretch them out a little. 

“Darling.” 

You look up. Clint McMoore’s resurfaced just a table away with his back to you. A sweet-faced woman with brown hair sits adjacent to him, her shoulder under Clint’s hand. 

“You’ll never guess who I just bumped into,” he says. 

Me, you think. 

“Aaron Hotchner and his new wife.” 

“You didn’t,” the woman says. 

“I knew you’d be envious of that,” he laughs. “Charlotte, she’s unbelievable.” 

Your stomach does a strange flip. He’ll say something nice, you insist, but you know his tone is a precursor for gossipy nonsense. 

“I’ve never seen such a mismatched pair,” he says. 

Charlotte rolls her eyes at him. “Well, what were you expecting? They were married after six months of knowing one another. I couldn’t so much as tolerate you until our first anniversary.” 

“Hardy-har.” 

“What’s wrong with her, then?” Charlotte asks. 

“Nothing like that, Charlotte. She seemed perfectly pleasant–”

“But?” 

“But, she’s nothing like Aaron’s usual woman.” 

“Hm, I said as much when we saw their wedding photos.“ They both laugh. “It’s not like she had much of a chance. First Haley, and then that Beth, the designer, she’s in Milan now–”

“He seems rather besotted, in any case,” Clint says. “Very lady and the tramp.” 

“Gentleman and the tramp.” 

“Don’t be cruel, Charlotte.” 

You know in a way that Charlotte is kidding, but you boil up with anger the moment you recognise what it is they’re implying. Then they laugh, and your anger quickly finds itself taking a crueller shape. 

You slip your foot back into your shoe slowly. Your throat feels dry and then warm, like a crux of smouldering coal stuck in your windpipe as you stand, jerkily, hand stiff where it holds your weight on a silken tablecloth. 

You blink and stare at the floor. It’s marble. It’s shot through with dark veins like a drop of ichor in water. 

What the fuck? 

You aren’t sure why you’re leaving the hall until you’re walking down the steps of the hotel and turning along the skirts of a hedge. A low brick wall lies in front of it, just short enough to sit on with your heels. Your coccyx stings with the force of how hard you go down. 

Your head races with hurt feelings. 

You’re not unaware of your husband’s past loves. It comes as no surprise to you that people regard Haley and Beth highly —Haley was extremely beautiful and veritably brave, intelligent, kind-hearted. Beth was funny, Aaron said, and not too much else. Being a designer in Milan hasn’t been mentioned before, but it’s impressive. They’re both impressive, and– and his usual woman. 

You rub the starchy stockings stretched over your knees. 

What had they meant by usual woman?

Mismatched? 

It hadn’t felt mismatched when Aaron asked you to marry him. It wasn’t six months after knowing one another as Clint’s wife suggested, but it wasn’t much more than that. He proposed to you after eight months together, and you were married two months later, which is incredibly fast to some people but it just hadn't felt fast when he asked. It was exciting —it still is. 

“Would you marry me, if I asked you to?” he’d said, some seven months after you’d agreed to be his girlfriend. Your head in his lap, his fingers rubbing at the soft skin of your nape. A sleepy Sunday morning like any other, you suppose that was a proposal in itself, but you hadn’t realised that when you murmured, “Yeah, handsome. I would.” 

You thought it was just love. Making innocuous comments about the future is part of falling in love. It’s terrifying to tell someone that you’d like to live life in their lap, but you tell them, and they tell you to go ahead if you’re lucky. 

He asked you to get married a few weeks later. “I had to talk to Jack,” he explained, “or I would’ve asked you then and there.“

You’re a wife suddenly, a step-mother, a partner. Aaron would’ve sold the house and bought you a new one if you wanted him to, but you like his life. You’ve always felt like you fit right in. 

Angry again, you scrub at your knees with itchy palms and practise how you’re going to tell Aaron about his cruel friend. Gossipy was right, what a lark, and you’re not perfectly pleasant, you’re a delight, you hadn’t said one bad word to Clint and you didn’t deserve to be whipped and twisted into a bad joke between sips of Cristal. 

Your eyes burn with the injustice of the thing. 

Rawness overtakes. A thudding in your chest turns painful, neck wrought with tightness as you hang your head. Hiding from the cold air. November brings with it a promise of chapped lips the longer you stay there, biting into your thighs as your hands turn stiff with disuse. 

She was unbelievable. 

“Y/N!” The shout is sharp. You’ve never heard Aaron’s voice at that level or with that level of formidability, carrying from the bottom of the hotel stairs. You twist in shock on the wall and watch in real time as his face fills with relief. “Honey,” he says, calling but not half as scary as he jogs to you, “are you alright?” 

“What?” 

“You scared me,” he insists, bending down to hold your shoulders. “Nobody’s seen you for the last fifteen minutes, sweetheart, we talked about this. You can’t just disappear, you left your purse on the table, I thought something happened to you.” 

You startle at his scolding. “I–”

“You should feel my heart.” 

“I didn’t mean to come out here.” 

“I wish you would’ve let somebody know,” he says. His frown softens slowly, but the concern around his eyes remains. “What?” he asks. 

“Sorry.” 

His eyes finally soften. “No, I’m sorry. It’s alright, I just worry when you’re not with me.” 

“That’s romantic.” 

He holds your cheek, pulling you in, and gives you two gentle kisses. Your lips part instinctively to receive them. “We’ll get our things and go home. It looks as though dinner isn’t happening.” He smiles. “Why were you out here?” 

“Scavenging for food.” 

That gets a laugh out of him, and another nice kiss. “You tried your best.” 

—

Aaron takes you home, and when dinner’s been cleared away, when you’ve showered and he’s undressed, he pulls you toward the bed and kisses you warmly. His eyes track from your face to the tucked corner of your towel, a silent Can I?

You let him take it off. He lays you out, and for a while you’re only his. His wife, his half, his to tease and turn and delight. He says “Beautiful,” against your thigh, says, “Honey, is that okay?” says, “Please, I’ve got it, I have you, just let me have you…” 

After, he tells you he loves you, his voice still ever so slightly high in contrast to usual dulcet tones. 

“I love you, too,” you say. 

His breath comes fast. Your lap is a mess he’d wiped as clean as he could manage, the memory of him bearing down on you yet to fade. He lies on his stomach beside you with his arm over yours, his face turned into you, his nose on your cheek. 

“Are you alright?” he asks softly. “You feel tense.”

“Mm.” 

“No, did I hurt you? You’re rigid.” His hands fret a line down the side of your chest. “You didn’t…” 

You hadn’t said anything, because he really hadn’t hurt you. But the thoughts you’re having now are intrusive —am I okay? you think. Do I measure up? He’s never made any indication that you’ve let him down, not in sex or anything else, but you’re unbelievable. 

You swallow a lump. “Sorry,” you say, the lingering ebbs of pleasure twisting into tears faster than you can stop it. 

“Are you crying?” he asks under his breath. 

You suck in a breath as he pushes onto his hands. 

“These aren’t good tears,” he says. 

He’d know. They’re not. 

Aaron reaches over you to turn on the lamp on the nightstand before settling, his hand cupping your waist. It’s too much suddenly, too bare, he’s too much to look at as you squeeze your eyes closed. “Sorry,” you squeeze out. 

“What did I do?” he asks, holding you carefully. “Please, sweetheart, what’s hurting? I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s not you.” 

“But something does hurt?” 

“No, no, I’m okay.” You cover your face with your hands. When you start to sob, it shakes the entire mattress, Aaron’s hand wobbling where it cups your ribs. 

“Please.” His thumb works a soft spot into your skin. “Honey, please, you can’t cry now without telling me what’s wrong.” He tries a laugh, but it falls flat. “Honey. Honey.” 

It wasn’t the sex. He never does anything wrong, he’s so gentle even when he isn’t, and if he did you’d only have to tell him, but the rush of being touched by him so nicely, fuck, the way he’d been looking at you, the way he took your face into his hand as he moved —you’re not trying to be a crier, but he makes you feel like you’re everything and you’re just not. 

He looks sick. 

“It wasn’t you, it was at the gala,” you manage. 

For a long while after, you can’t get a word out. You shiver and sob as Aaron scoops you into his chest, his nose in your shoulder waiting for you to calm down. He rubs your waist, fingers parted and waving slowly as he shushes you. Not to make you stop, though. He’s reassuring. 

“What happened at the gala?” he asks quietly. 

“It’s so stupid.” 

“No, it’s alright. Can you tell me what happened? Did someone hurt you?” 

You wrap your arms around his head. It really is stupid, you feel smaller than an ant under the shadow of a giant heel. Aaron doesn’t waver when you struggle to answer, feeling around behind you for a pillow and helping you against it. He kisses your forehead. “Let me get you something to wear.” 

You catch his wrist. “It wasn’t you, wasn’t–” You lift your chin. 

He kisses you. “Okay,” he says simply. “Let’s get dressed.” 

He dresses quickly, bringing you underwear and one of your sleep shirts, a loose fit. You shuffle into them and watch him patiently as he cleans the small mess of the evening away. You’re sniffling softly when he returns to you, sitting with his back to your thighs. 

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry if I read things wrong. I never would’ve initiated anything if I knew you were feeling like this.” 

You laugh weakly, worriedly, looking at him through your lashes. “It made me feel better,” you admit.

“If this is better, you must’ve been feeling awful.” 

You relax as he puts his hand on your thigh. 

“In the time I left you to talk to Strauss, something upset you. JJ and Morgan didn’t see you. So someone in the gala said something or did something that made you leave. If you tell me who it was, I can make sure it doesn’t happen again.” 

“You’re trying to bargain with me,” you mumble. 

“I’m just telling you what can be done. I can take care of things.” 

“It’s nothing… nothing so severe. You’ll wonder why I–” You give an unexpected sob. “Made all this fuss.” 

“I don’t think I’ll wonder,” he says. 

You laugh through tears. These ones are slow, your eyes already itchy from crying. 

“Please tell me.” He tries teasing instead of sternness, lowering his face to yours. “Or I’ll cry too.” 

“Aaron.” 

“I will. You think I can’t, but seeing you crying like this, it’s more than enough ammunition.” 

You let out a breath, admitting defeat. “Your friend, Clint? I overheard him with his wife. He didn’t have very nice things to say about me.” 

“What could he possibly have to say?” Aaron asks with a frown. 

You pull the sheets up your legs. “He said I’m… unbelievable, and I don’t think he meant it kindly. Said that I’m not your type, and that I… I had no chance of measuring up, because of who you’ve been with before. They were laughing about our wedding photos.” Your throat feels pressed into by a hot poker. “They said we were the gentleman and the tramp.” 

His eyes squint. He looks disgusted, and for an uncomfortable moment you feel like it might be directed at you, but then he scoffs. “What a crock of shit.” 

“Aaron!” you laugh. 

“What could Clint McMoore possibly know about marriage? This is his fourth wife. And to imply that you’re any sort of calibre below the women I’ve dated before isn’t just misogynistic nonsense, it’s not true. You are the most beautiful women I’ve ever met, and what’s that supposed to mean, gentlemen and the tramp?” He gives you such an earnest glare of confusion that you can’t for a second doubt what it is he’s saying. “I’m sorry, honey, I think he’s allowed himself a few too many nightcaps over the years. Perhaps he’s suffered a stroke.” 

“Aaron, don’t say that,” you chide, secretly very pleased. 

“Our wedding photos,” he says, his hand drifting further down your leg to rest just shy of somewhere more intimate, “are beautiful. You look beautiful. Clint would’ve writhed in jealousy in the pews if he’d been invited, because he would’ve seen it for himself.” 

“I just sat there while they laughed at me,” you mumble.

“What were you supposed to do?” His hand travels out, to your hip, and then he holds you by the waist with both of his hands. They have a way of making you feel encapsulated, big and strong and careful on the bump of your hips. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Nothing,” he says, meeting your eyes with his usual tender-hearted compassion. “You weren’t supposed to do or say anything.” Aaron appears younger than he is for a second, his eyebrows raised, eyes big and brown as they track over your lips. “Honey, I’m sorry. I didn’t realise he was like that. I’m sorry you had to hear that.” 

“I guess I’m just worried he’s right.” 

“He’s not right. You are everything to me.” Again, he puts weight on the word, roughly said, like it takes a lot from him to say it. “I’m lucky to have been with women who were beautiful, and intelligent, but if there’s a question of you measuring up, there’s no competition. I’ve never been this in love.” 

You take a shaky breath. “Never?” you ask. 

He holds your gaze. “I knew it when we met. That's why I couldn’t wait to ask you to marry me.” 

“You said you weren’t getting any younger.” 

“Well, I’m not, but not everything’s about my age, you know,” he says, giving your waist a playful squeeze. 

”You said it.” 

“I did. That felt easier to say than, if I don’t marry you soon I might implode,” —he shuffles forward, encroaching on your legs and pressing his lips to your cheek— “would’ve just,” —he kisses your cheek, before turning your head— “wasted all that time waiting for someone else’s idea of the right time,” —and he kisses the other cheek, his nose skirting up your face— “wishing I was your husband when I could just,” —he smiles into your eyebrow as his hand slips under your shirt, holding your bare back— “ask.” 

“I’m glad you asked me.” 

You’d cried then, too, but it was less to do with a rush of adrenaline that knocked you out of balance and more to do with how lovingly he’d taken your hand as he asked. You knew from that moment on that someone was going to take care of you for the rest of your life. He’s doing it right now. 

“I love you,” you say, forcing your arms over his shoulders. 

He pulls you in so much that you lift from the mattress. 

“I love you. Are you sure it wasn’t me that upset you? I have to check.” 

“No. What you did to me wasn’t particularly upsetting.” 

He laughs. “Are you sure? You can look a little teary–”

You shush him quickly.

He tips your head to the side to kiss your ear. “Maybe next time, you can tell me about whatever upset you beforehand.” 

“And you can make me feel even better.”

His laugh is nearly inaudible, but his lips are by the side of your head. You hear it, the warmth of his breath kissing the shell of your ear. 

—

Aaron likes to see you in your sweatpants. You look nice in everything, especially your dresses for the evening events he often drags you to, but he likes it when you wear sweatpants because it opens a window. You’ve purchased the wrong size, too big and too long, but you’ve tied them at the waist and you make do. You’re wearing the big shirt he helped you into the night before, sitting on the couch with your ferried breakfast. 

The night before has been washed away, no sign of tears or upset. You have a clean, bright face, one he’d quite like to kiss, or hold, or have pressed to his neck, but none of this is unusual. Your eyes look sore, if he really looks. He’ll make you a compress after breakfast. 

Dropped off by Jess an hour ago, Jack sits beside you picking at the breakfast tray. You’re sharing a plate. You don’t ever mind. 

“Are you eating that one?” you ask. 

Jack immediately nudges half of a chocolate chip pancake your way. “Was the gala fun?” 

“Uh, sure. Saw your dad’s friends. But they had a weird thing with the caterers and we had to get dinner on the way home.”

“You could’ve made dad cook.” 

“I guess, but we were tired. What did you have for dinner?” 

“Jess made spicy chicken. It was amazing.” Jack squints at you. “Your eyes are puffy, Y/N. Are you sick?” 

“I think I might be a little. Not enough to make you sick too, don’t worry.” 

Aaron piles the last of the pancakes onto a plate and carries them to you in the living room. “Here, you two.” 

“Did you eat?” you ask. 

He loves you, bending over to kiss your forehead right in the middle. “Yes.” 

“How come they didn’t have dinner at the gala, dad? I thought that was the whole point,” Jack says. 

He sits down next to Jack on the couch. You cut a big square of pancake and grin at him, seemingly pleased with your breakfast and Jack’s sense of humour. 

“It was a disaster, that’s all. No food, barely any wine, and terrible, awful company.” 

“I thought Miss Jareau went?” 

“She did. But besides her and a handful of others, it was a party for sad old people.” 

“And you didn’t have fun?” Jack asks. 

You laugh so hard tears gather in the corners of your eyes. Aaron cups Jack’s shoulder, surprised when his son doesn’t duck away from the touch. The older he gets the less affection he requires, so it’s nice for Aaron to hug him sideways and be allowed, better that you finish your choking laugh with a hug of your own. “Jack, thank you for that. I think you cured whatever illness I had,” you say.  

“Hey,” Aaron says. 

You run your hand up his neck. Your wedding ring catches against his jaw. 

“It was worth going, though, to see your step-mom in her nice dress,” Aaron says, peeling away from Jack so he has room to breathe. 

Jack turns to you, and his smile is audible, “Do you have any pictures?” 

“I didn’t take any, sorry.” 

“Just think of her now but in a dress, and that’s how beautiful she looked,” Aaron says. 

“Dad, don’t be gross,” Jack says, cutting into the pancakes with his fork.

“It’s not gross, it’s just a fact.” Jack drops pancake down his front. Warm chocolate chips stain his t-shirt. “Missed your mouth, bud. I’ll get a rag.” 

He’s up as quickly as he sat down, running his fingers along your arm and to the palm of your hand, touching you until he can’t. He heads back into the kitchen. His phone is beeping on the table, screen flashing with each new text. 

Penelope: boss, I think the thing you asked for is illegal 

Penelope: also, I assume you were kidding? 

Penelope: so while making it that every link on McMoore’s computer freezes the desktop would’ve been very very funny, I didn’t do that 

Aaron had been kidding, emphatically, because illegal activities aren’t his style. It was a sarcastic suggestion, and yet he’s disappointed nonetheless. 

Penelope: I just signed him up for a bunch of recovering narcissists forums and an email subscription for self help, and maybe also a free online class about manners and etiquette 

Penelope: And I ordered that big canvas for you. It was the one of you guys cutting the cake, right? 

Aaron texts her back quickly: Thank you, Penelope. I couldn’t work out the dimensions online. 

Penelope: You’re welcome! I live to serve :D 

The canvas will look good in the entryway, Aaron believes. Somewhere you can see it, and remember exactly what it is he thinks of you; his eyes glowing with love where he’d been staring at your face, his hand guided yours atop the knife as he traced your features, and you cut that first, fat slice of cake. 

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thanks so much for reading! please think about commenting, liking or reblogging if you enjoyed I love knowing what you think!❤️

also small note: this fic is in no way meant to diminish haley im a haley supporter usually (these days at least!) and I just didn’t mention her for brevity’s sake