#chips smothered in

[gorillaxyz]

CHIPPY FOR DINNER my beautiful british life

[hyenagurl]

i want waffle house so had rn i might died

[platonicallylovesick]

YIPPPEEEE I LOVE OPINIONS but this time its actually going in the tags, length be damned

Alright. We’re settling this discourse once and for all.

In the tags, tell me your opinion on:

Mayonnaise

Frozen Yogurt 

Salt and Vinegar Chips

Sweet Potatoes

Kiwi

Ginger Ale

Microwave Ramen

[snekdood]

i made brownies for shiva last night..................................

[bambi-slxt]

chris x clingy!reader

✨a long concept✨

chips to @sturnsdoll for the idea, thank you love

chris had never been in a relationship with someone who was touchier than he was.

"i just did my hair!"

"but it was so soft."

"that doesn't mean you can shove your hands in it," he huffed.

and honestly at first it was a lot for him. but when you weren't around...

"hey baby...."

"yeah?"

"i miss you. will you come do my hair?"

"are you gonna complain?"

he sighed with relief. "no ma'am."

watching movies in the living room was always a sight.

"how the fuck are you comfortable like that?"

chris, laying flat-backed on the couch, opened his mouth and you, laying on his chest, popped out from his blanket and dropping a pretzel onto his tongue.

"fuck off, nick," he crunched, wrapping his leg around your back and shifting to the side.

"i can't see!"

"too bad. you're mine now. all you get is my chest."

"mmm...your cologne smells good."

he tucked his chin down towards your cocoon made partly of blanket and partly of him, and murmured, "does it?"

"yes."

he kissed the top of your head. "good, cause i'm gonna smother you in it!" he tightened his grip on your body and pressed you into his torso with a playful growl.

you liked being around chris, and chris liked being around you, but the issue arose when you both had to go out of the house.

"libraries are boring."

"they are not. take it back."

"tHeY aRe NoT, tAkE iT bAcK," he parroted, touching the spines of books as he passed them. "hold up, is that a fucking comic book?"

with a new issue of Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles in hand, chris followed at your heels down the aisles.

his arms wrapped around your front with your hands placed gently over his, tracing his knuckles absentmindedly as you scanned the shelves.

the first time you and chris had sex, he wanted to take it very slow.

"sit on my lap, ma," he whispered, guiding the straps of your bra down your shoulders.

you giggled at the strangeness and seriousness of it all. turning back, you were pleased to find his eyes sparkling. "what's so funny, miss lady?"

you pressed your cheek to his. "nothing. i'm just happy."

"you feel safe?" he asked as he nosed at your jaw.

"very," you replied, curling your fingers in his hair.

"face the mirror. i want you to see what i see."

chris took you by the hips and turned you gently around. your back now to him, he lowered you over his rock-hard cock. "watch your pelvis in that mirror, mamas," he growled.

slowly, slowly, slowly, he let you slip down onto him. sure enough, as your jaw went slack and an unashamed moan flowed from your throat, you placed a hand over the soft skin above your pussy.

chris bottomed out and tucked his head over your shoulder, holding you tightly. "you feel me in there?"

"yes," you sighed, gripping onto his wrists for a semblance of control while your other hand traced the slight bulge of his cock underneath your skin, stuffing you full.

"good girl," he murmured, lipping your ear with the gentlest of nips. "you tell me if you wanna stop okay?"

he lifted his hips (and subsequently you) and a jolt of pleasure bolting through your stomach. "i don't think i will," you gasped as your hand shot down to your clit.

chris just chuckled and held you tighter.

request to be on the taglist here

tags: @pinksturniolo @malirosee @st7rnioioss @nonat-111 @cindylcuwho @evie-sturns @h3arts4harry @fanficsbymia @dazednmatthews

thanks for reading <3

-bambi

[brainmuncher]

The emergency

A good number of members within the Justice League have children. Not all of those kids are biological or adopted but they are their kids nonetheless. Some of those kids are even old enough to be adult heroes of their own, but even then they are still their kids. And the other kids tend to take up heroism at a very young age to most people's chagrin. Although as shown by the original child hero, now going by Nightwing, it’s not as easy as telling the kids to stop.

It was learned through intense hardship that smothering the child heroes was just asking for trouble. Despite how much the older heroes wanted to stay close to their kids, it was seen as overbearing and a show of mistrust. They would act out with even less backup in retaliation, which would only bring even more stress.

So to satisfy the need for protection without stepping on any toes, two new emergency meeting signals were introduced.

One was for the kids to send off. Each one was gifted a small device that could be hidden in their person. The device had both a mic and a tracking chip that could be activated when they were in extreme danger. As soon as the device was active a signal would be sent to the league for an emergency distress signal with the details of who sent it. Due to an outcry from the kids, the device could not be activated by the guardian of the child. The mic and locator could only be activated from the device itself. It wasn’t nearly as protective as some of the more worried leaguers would like, but it was at least something. 

The second signal was one that the leaguer with a kid in danger could activate. This signal could be activated with a single code into the communicators that every member owned. If the member who sent out the signal didn’t specify what kid was in danger, every member would receive a generalized notification of the emergency alert for one of the kids. This wasn’t ideal, but it was learned early on that the guardian of the child was often too distressed to make the code more complicated. It was best to leave it simple and answer questions at the emergency meeting.

Which was great in all, until someone who doesn’t have a child involved with heroics in their care sends off a general emergency.

In places all over the globe, an emergency meeting signal message was sent by Hal Jordan, one of the lanterns. He didn’t include what child was in danger in the signal, meaning that it could be any of the underaged heroes. And considering he didn’t have a child in his care, that made multiple members panic.

When was the last time they checked in with the kids in their care? Who was the one he was sending the code for? What happened to the child he had noticed was in danger? Why is he the one that noticed? Where were their kids? Who was in danger?

Because of the nebulous nature of the call, it didn’t take long for multiple heroes to find the nearest transport to the watchtower and tumble in. What they didn’t expect was the absolute haggard appearance of their friend. He was standing in the meeting room looking like the world had been destroyed before his very eyes. The way he sat without even cracking a sarcastic remark made multiple members pause.

“Hal?” Wonder Woman called, her face pinched in concern. “What has happened?”

The aforementioned member looked over who had already arrived before settling on her face. It was at that moment she knew that he was only looking so collected through willpower alone. This wasn’t just any child of the league, this was personal.

“My nephew Danny has been captured,” He began, sending a wave of different emotions circling the room. “I’ve been trying to find where they took him for a week now and I can’t get any leads. I need your help.”

The unsaid questions and emotions were nearly palpable. Multiple members turned to one another or stared with a million questions. Nobody had known that Hal even had a nephew named Danny. Sure he mentioned someone named Jason at times, but he never indicated anything else. The fact that he hadn’t mentioned him or the fact that he’d been apparently searching for a week was strange.

“And why are you only telling us now? Why did you wait so long?” Superman asked, speaking up the question that was on multiple minds.

A fire of anger curled in Hal's eyes. It was fierce and protective. It was a mixture of appalment for being questioned on his decision and fury for the reasons why he had to do it in the first place. He stepped forward towards the center table, slamming his palms down and leaning into it.

“Because any person that goes against the group will be declared an enemy of the United States. I’ve already had my account and housing connected to Green Lantern seized,” He explained with a deceptively calm tone. “I also needed to make sure that they didn’t have any connections with the Justice League. They have their agents everywhere.”

Unsurprisingly, Batman appeared from the gathered heroes from seemingly nowhere. Despite the feud between the two of them, the Bat was completely zeroed in on the situation. While he had a decent amount of distrust in the lantern, mainly because of the parallax incident, he could tell that the man was genuine. And the Bat always did have a blind spot for children.

“Explain,” Was all Batman said, staring Hal down.

The lantern in question looked at him with a grim face. This was it. Now or never.

“They’re called the Ghost Investigation Ward, or GIW for short. They hunt down and either exterminate or experiment on anyone they deem ectocontaminated or a ghost,” Hal started to explain, his hand curling on the table in frustration. “My brother Jack faked his death and ran off to be with another woman. Those fucks deemed my nephew as ectocontaminated and tried to take him from his home. He ran from his family so that they couldn’t be arrested for knowingly harboring an ecto entity. Told me that he remembered my face from a photo his dad tried to hide in the attic and sought me out.”

If the fire in his eyes were any stronger, they would probably become physical and burn down the room. It was undeniable that Hal Jordan was understandably completely pissed off. This situation was terrible from down to the very root.

“I tried to hide him but they somehow found him anyway. Now my civilian name is being heavily monitored and Green Lantern is being hunted down,” He finished his explanation. “If you join me in this, be prepared to lose everything.”

This was so much worse than anyone could’ve predicted.

[cheekypriest]

"Me too. As ridiculous as it might sound... doesn't feel completely terrible to finally admit it to someone. Especially someone outside the usual conscription." By that, he primarily meant those of the supernatural community. At least, that was what James liked to call them, though he knew the Vatican and many of his peers had far more colourful terms for them. But admittedly, despite everything, despite his orders, what he was taught to think about the sometimes seedier sides of the world, he couldn't hate them. Vampires, werewolves, fae, the list was endless, but it didn't mean that every single one of them was evil. He'd met beings from either side, the good, the bad and some who seemed to linger somewhere in between, viewing the world and everything in it with a sense of neutrality. The funny thing was, he could understand every single side, they all had their reasons, he'd seen some for himself, but at the end of the day, it was their actions that really defined them and ultimately made James' decision about whether or not to hunt them down or turn a blind eye and let them go about their business.

That was another layer he may ease the detective into. Demons being real was one thing, but reminding him that it meant Heaven, Hell and angels were real was another, only to be topped by the fact that all manner of other beings existed too. He really meant it when he'd said that it all changed a person's outlook on the entire world. Darkness had a different feel to it, knowing that once the sun went down, it wasn't just mortal night owls that came out for their nightshifts, there were vampires seeping out into the world to start their day only to recoil back into the safety of their homes once the sun began to rise again. Or something as simple as looking up at the breathtaking sight of the full moon and knowing that somewhere, there were people in agonizing pain as their bodies twisted and contorted into a massive beast. That was just the surface, the most known types, the Brit could do on forever about all the different variations of those as well, then keep going for everything else that was blundering around on the planet that didn't quite fit into the human or seemingly 'normal' world.

A conversation for another time. The first hurdle was letting the guy wrap his mind around the whole exorcist thing, any further details could wait, so long as the reality of it didn't hit the guy like a train and send him scampering off as far away from the priest as possible.

Not that he'd entirely blame him, of course.

"I don't know... who am I to judge someone on how their mind works? Coming from someone who's fluent in sarcasm, I reckon there's more than a couple people out there who'd have a thing or two to say about how mine works as well." Perhaps further proven by those few sentences, as if that was even needed at this point. His wit really was the thing that kept him going, softened those hardest moments, whether for him or for others around him. It had worked so far and he wasn't about to try and shed it now. He wasn't even sure he could even if he wanted to, that old saying 'can't teach an old dog new tricks' quickly came to mind. Of course, James could pretend, he could act like someone else for a while if it got him where he needed, or the information he was looking for, but it wasn't something that could keep it up for long, that smart tongue of his was just too sharp to keep restrained for any real amount of time.

"'But the lord said unto Samuel, look not on his countenance, or on the height of his stature; because I have refused him: for the lord seeth not as man seeth; for man looketh on the outward appearance, but the lord looketh on the heart'." Even he found himself amused at how easily the words came to him, smirking a little as he prodded at the battered fish on his plate with his fork. "Sorry, seems my priestliness comes with me even when I'm not in uniform." He teased a little, an evidently amused look sweeping across his face as he cut a piece of fish and shoved it into his mouth. Though after a few happy chews of it, that smile returned again, slyly glancing back down at his food. "Just something you'll have to get used to..." If the guy decided he didn't mind it, or felt that he could stomach all of the clergyman and his little quirks.

It seemed the pair of them already had visions of seeing one another again, maybe even on something of a regular basis, something more than just friends, maybe? Or perhaps he was being too presumptuous, once again needing to remind himself that it was never that simple. For a moment, he could enjoy it though, right? Pretend as if they could go off into the sunset hand in hand and nothing could touch them? "Well, next time I pop back across the pond to the old stomping ground, I'll let you know. A night in the town, couple drinks at a local watering hole, some greasy fish and chips from a late-night takeaway then back to a hotel where we can sin to our heart's content." There was no veil about those last words, barely even an innuendo as he made it quite clear that he did indeed have somewhat -- - carnal, leaning about the man opposite him.

One more sin to add to the list. He'd soon run out of ink at this rate.

He half lamented the fact that he didn't have a house back in England now, long since selling up and making his primary residence in Rome. Most of the time when he returned to the UK, if he was nipping back home to the north of England, he'd reach out to his old friends and let them know he'd be in the area, usually being welcomed with open arms into their homes for the few days that he'd be there. When he was elsewhere in the country, or even in Scotland, Wales and Northern Ireland, he just booked himself into a hotel, mostly sticking to the cheaper side of things. It was mainly when the Vatican itself tried to take some control of where he stayed that he'd be thrown into somewhere a bit more luxurious, making the Brit feel rather out of place. Not that he'd say no to some luxury while it was there, maybe go for a swim, a few bottles of champagne, just to round things off.

Was it wrong that he was already toying with the idea of Connor being there with him? The pair of them lounging around in some fancy suite, wearing big fluffy dressing gowns, with a bottle of champagne on ice next to them? He really needed to slow down, ground himself, feeling not too unlike a young man again with all these fanciful notions springing to mind.

"If you think tomato sauce is beyond the pale, you should see what we put on them at three in the morning." Notably thinking back to many a night merry night that rounded off at a local chip shop where the group would drown themselves in ridiculously battered foods and sauces that would likely be the last thing someone should consume after a hefty night of drinking. "Curry sauce is usually top of the list. Pour that sucker over it and... there you have it, some fine British cuisine. Partly borrowed, mind." A smirk left him at that, not being able to hold it in any longer as he put another piece of fish in his mouth. The only reason he hadn't asked about curry sauce there was because he didn't imagine they had any, and if they did, he'd probably get some strange looks for asking. If they weren't British, there was a strong chance they wouldn't really understand it. He didn't fully understand it himself, now that he thought about it, it was just normal back home.

Yet as he looked back down at his food, going for a few chips this time, it was the foot against his ankle that had the Englishman pause for a moment, sly blue eyes lifting to stare across the table. His smile grew to match his gaze, thoroughly amused as he popped a few chips into his mouth. "Mmm, sfacciato..." The man purred in fluent Italian, not minding whether or not Connor understood him, he liked to think that his manner made it quite clear what he was saying, transcending spoken language altogether. With a growing curve of his lips, he turned his foot, running the toe of his shoe up the inside of the detective's leg a little higher, never breaking eye contact for a single second. "Keep going like that and I just might have to skip to dessert right here and now..." He'd let Connor's mind envision what he meant, already having more than a few ideas himself.

Of course, the detective did have his own thoughts on the concept of exorcism, & it had far less to do with filmography & more to do with new age practices. Apart from the horrific cases of abuse of power in years past, an overreach of church authority & hysteria-fueled reaction in a time where the upper midwest was still firmly rooted in the religious institutions of yesteryear, there had grown a more substantial wave of counter-culture & subcultures in Detroit. While the rest of Michigan could be divided, given the rural nature of their unique northern state, the city was a place for idealists & freethinkers to congregate. While Connor had grown up in a relatively conservative, yet strictly atheist household, the triplets were open minded boys. Connor, especially, as he had a great thirst for knowledge of all kinds. He had known plenty of spiritual people from all different faiths & ideations while attending university, more than a few who dabbled in witchcraft & santeria. Jericho, Markus’ organization, had within its membership a woman who claimed to be a psychic, & had offered some stunningly accurate readings in the past. In his short life, the detective had had his fair share of exposure to spiritualism.

To him, it all came down to personal beliefs - every culture had some kind of ritualistic practice to expel oppressive spirits from an unwitting host, to ward off bad intentions & grant protections. It was just that, in modern times, the catholic church seemed to have a monopoly on exorcism, as it was most recognizable. It brought forth imagery of Blatty’s work in media, though the detective was less inclined to reference it, considering that it all seemed laughable. Just a bit of fun at the cinema. He expected that James had anticipated that this confession might spark such assumptions about his work, or perhaps that he feared Connor might see him as one of a great many so-called faith healers, akin to the con artists posing as exorcists throughout the American bible belt. People who used performative trickery & the power of suggestion to convince their congregations of their ability to heal, & swindled the masses out of their money.

James wasn’t one of those people. True, Connor recognized that, in the present moment, he had no real proof of anything. But he trusted his instinct, & it told him that everything this man said was completely genuine. He was the real deal, & while Connor didn’t know what that meant exactly, he understood that it was a difficult thing for the priest to admit. He didn’t have the heart to ask why, not when it was clearly causing him grief. Again, the detective felt the regret surge inside of him at having let go of his hand & a deepening urge to reach for him again. In time. For now, it was best to let things settle down again, let James relax into a less anxious state of mind. Just looking at him, Connor could tell that his parasympathetic nervous system was absolutely tingling, even when the older man seemed to take his companion’s responses in stride. Calm as always, passingly witty as a means to relieve tension. The younger wanted to ease his mind, as he decided within the first few minutes of their meeting that James deserved peace, as he seemed to rarely get it.

“I’m glad that you told me.” His dusky voice held a soothing quality to it, visage placid as he watched his date from across the table. He wanted to convey just how deeply appreciative he was that James could be open with him, that he was willing to share this secretive part of him. Though Connor had pushed him, the priest was under no obligation to tell him anything. Nevertheless, this small admission felt absolutely monumental. & it did certainly explain some of the things James had told him, as well as the impressions the detective had been getting of him as things progressed. Connor believed that he now understood the reasons why his companion was so lonely, as he might have chosen isolation as a way to protect others. The thought of it made him sad. He felt for James. He didn’t want him to be alone.

Not that it was his choice, by any means. Even so, the detective was a presumptuous little shit, & there was very little that could stand in his way once he got an idea in his head.

He wouldn’t allow his date to see any of these machinations outwardly, intent on shifting the mood into something less introspective & more amiable. He chose to tug a bit of that attention towards himself, wanting to alleviate James of his trepidation. He could leave any ruminations involving the man’s profession for a later time. Right now, he just wanted to be in the moment. “Besides, I think that it's just as remarkable that you didn’t write me off when I told you about my mind.” It was said with mild jest, a sweetness to his smile that gave the illusion that this was merely Connor teasing. But he was being honest, & that showed in his eyes, how they looked at the priest with warmth & endearment that hadn’t faded with his confession. “Most people assume, you know. So it’s easier not to say anything.” Mental health was still such a taboo subject, only having become mainstream with the younger generations. Even so, people like him were easily misunderstood. He was glad to have met someone like James, for a multitude of reasons.

His suggestion felt like a redirection, one gladly taken in the moment. While food wasn’t usually a distraction for the detective, for the time being it was an easy path to return to normalcy, to something pleasantly mundane. The two had been looking for an escape from their demanding lives, a space they could be themselves without having to think of outside circumstances. Where they were just two people on a date, enjoying each other's company. Connor smiled at that, & quickly took up his cutlery. “If this is so egregiously inauthentic, then I think I might have to insist that you take me home sometime,” he teased, though he wasn’t being frivolous with his words. He sincerely wanted to go there with James, to his home country, as he wasn’t one shy of the unknown. “You know. For the cultural experience.” A small shrug. He chuckled lightly to himself as he began to cut himself a small piece of fish, neglecting to offer admission that his intentions were more about going somewhere that held meaning to his date & less about personal benefit. He imagined that it was implied.

He also knew that the man was watching him expectantly, & he wasn’t about to disappoint. The batter was golden & crisp, & held a distinct sheen of oil that made him a little wary. But the fish was flakey & it smelled delicious. Having an admittedly tentative taste, the detective wasn’t displeased. Definitely not something he would eat on a regular basis, but he decided that he liked it. “It’s good,” he assured the priest once he’d properly chewed & swallowed, setting down his knife to reach for a chip. “If this is what you consider passable, then I’ve definitely got to try the real thing.” Hopefully with James in tow. The chips were similar to steak fries as far as he could tell, thick cut & practically a meal on their own. They also had no seasoning on them as far as he could tell. Boring. He eyed the condiments at the side of the table before looking to his date with something of a sheepish smile.

“Please don’t judge me. I’m going to put ketchup on these.” A little laugh fell from his lips at the absurdity of that request, though it felt fitting in the moment. He shyly ran the inner curve of one foot up the side of James’ ankle from beneath the table - a flirtatious gesture, one which served to quell the need for physical connection as well as a means of persuasion. Cute. The detective really could be very cute.

[yandere-daydreams]

Screening: Rosemary's Baby (1968)

Pairing: Yandere!Ieiri Shoko x Reader (JJK).

Runtime: 3.2k.

TW: Fem!Reader, Non/Con (False Pretenses), Mentions of Pregnancy, Cheating (Reader is in an Established Relationship With Gojo), Fingering, Medical Malpractice, Manipulation, and Overstimulation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

The examination table was cold as ice against your back.

She’d been nice enough to put down a sheet of sterilizing parchment, but not much more. You fidgeted with the hem of your skirt as you waited, too nervous to check your phone and risk seeing the newest addition to Satoru’s never-ending barrage of texts, too obedient to do anything other than stay where you were and stare blankly at the chipped, white tiles of her ceiling. That was what she told you to do – or, at least, what you thought she’d told you to do. It’d been difficult to understand her through her surgical mask, only pulled down slightly to accommodate the cigarette she was holding up to her lips, and come to think if it, she might’ve just meant to wait near the table, not strictly on—

The door opened, creating a break in the silence just long enough for you to pull yourself back together, and you bolted upright before your thoughts could start to slip, again – the stiff parchment crackling in protest underneath you. Your eyes found Shoko just as she slipped inside, letting the door fall shut on its own behind her.

Out of all of Satoru’s friends, Shoko had always been your favorite. There was obviously the gender bias (you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t have gravitated towards any woman in Satoru’s overall civil, but absolutely male-dominated social sphere), but even if that hadn’t been the case, you liked to think that you would’ve gotten along with Shoko, regardless. She was always so calm, always so level-headed, rarely smiling but slow to lose her temper, too. Being around her made you feel a little less like the awkward, oblivious non-sorcerer who’d stumbled into a world you still didn’t completely understand and a little more like someone who knew what they’d gotten into and who to rely on, when your own limited abilities fell short. You trusted Shoko, even if you’d only talked to her alone a handful of times. If you didn’t, you never would’ve come to her for something like this.

She stopped at the nearest counter, retrieving a pair of latex gloves from a nearly empty container, before coming to stand next to your table. You knew she’d been smoking, but the heavy scent of disinfect and rubbing alcohol smothered any traces of lingering smoke there might’ve been. You were thankful. You’d been sick with nerves for the better part of the past week, and you didn’t need another reason to feel like you were on the verge of throwing up.

(In the back of your skull, something cruel and vile whispered that there might be another explanation for your sudden bouts of nausea – something less ignorable than pure, ungrounded anxiety. You drowned it out before it could reach your conscious mind.)

Shoko broke the silence without prompting. You were grateful for that, too – you really didn’t have the courage to speak up first. “So,” she started, leaning on the edge of your metal slab. “You wanted to see me because of a… late period?”

Her mask hid most her expression, but you could make out the faint hint of a chuckle underneath her bedside manner. Your eyes fell into your lap. “A missed period,” you corrected. “I haven’t gotten it this month, either.”

She hummed, but didn’t respond. You sighed. Shoko was grounded, but she wasn’t kind. You should’ve known she wouldn’t make this easy for you.

“I’m worried I might be pregnant.”

To her credit, if she was surprised, it was impossible to tell. “Have you been taking your birth control?”

“Yeah, obviously, but I’m terrible about remembering condoms and Satoru never manages to pull out.” It felt strange to describe your sex life to your boyfriend’s closest friend, but you soldiered on. She was a medical professional, a doctor. Your preferred methods of protection (or lack thereof) couldn’t have been the worst thing she’d heard that day. “I’ve already taken a test, but I just want to make sure. Cursed energy is already so complicated, and I know Satoru exceeds a lot of expectations. I don’t know if he, like, has—”

This time, she cut you off with an airy, but blatant laugh. “You think he’s got magic sperm?”

“He fights invisible monsters and teleports,” you snapped, your anxiety turning into irritation in the blink of an eye. “I don’t think ‘magic sperm’ is that unrealistic!”

For a moment, she seemed to regard you – her dark eyes boring into your wrinkled clothes, your disheveled hair, the bags under your eyes nearly deep enough to match her own. Even if she didn’t understand why you were worried, she’d have to recognize that you were, in fact, worried. And, if she really was your friend, she’d at least offer to help.

You held your breath until finally, she cracked, straightening her back with and audible sigh. “And why, exactly, couldn’t you go to a standard obstetrician about this?”

“Because you’re the best doctor I know and I’d trust you with my life?”

“Try again.”

“Because I can’t afford the co-pay and if I use Satoru’s card, he’ll find out.” You deflated after finishing, crossing your arms over your chest. “I… I really just want to know. If it turns out I did have a reason to worry, I’ll figure out what to do next, but—” This time, your voice cut out all on its own. You forced yourself to swallow before going on. “I just want to know, first. Satoru doesn’t have to be involved.”

It was an awful position to put her in, you knew. For as much as you trusted her, she’d known Satoru for years. She had every right to go to him about this, even if you really, really wished she wouldn’t. She didn’t owe you anything, much less her help. Much less her silence.

But there was a reason you trusted Shoko, that you felt as unreasonable close to her as you did. Above her mask, you saw her eyes soften before they flickered away from you, landing on the counter she’d already visited. “Lay down and take off what you need to,” she said, her gruff professionalism back in full force. “It might not be conclusive, but the most I can do is a physical examination. It’s not much, but if you don’t trust a real test, it’s the best thing I can offer you.”

You couldn’t help yourself – nearly falling off the table as you pulled her into a bone-crushing, lung-flattening hug. “Ieiri, you’re the best,” you nearly shouted, your voice bouncing off the blank walls of her office. You moved to thank her again, and again, and again, but she pried you off of her before you had the chance, muttering a curt ‘you’re welcome’ before turning away to make her preparations and escape your unwanted gratitude. You managed to stop yourself from chasing after her, and yet, you were still smiling as you settled back onto the table.

Still, embarrassment quickly dampened the brighter edges of your relief as Shoko glanced over her shoulder. “Are you comfortable with undressing here, or would you rather leave the room?”

You blanched, and Shoko was kind enough not to laugh before going on. “You did know you were basically coming to be for a gynecological exam, right?”

“I mean, yes, but—” You hadn’t, but then again, you weren’t sure what else you’d expected. This made sense, even if it was leagues beyond anything you thought to brace yourself for. If Shoko thought it would help, then it’d help. “Do I get a gown, or…?”

Her eyes fell to your skirt, long enough to fall just an inch or so above your knee. “That won’t be necessary. Take off your panties and lay down – I’ll be over in a second.”

Your face burnt, but you nodded, and she turned away. Biting your inner cheek, you swung your legs over the side of the table and kicked off your shoes. Shoko pretended to be preoccupied while you shrugged your panties down your legs and, with no other option, stuffed them into the pocket of your jacket. It was awkward – lying down and spreading your legs with Shoko less than a full ten feet away. It was one thing to ask your acquaintance for medical advice, and another to let your boyfriend’s friend act as your pro-bono gynecologist.

You heard a few tools clatter onto a metal tray, the padded feet of a stool scrape across the tiled floor, and wordlessly, Shoko positioned herself at the foot of the examination table. “This should only take a few minutes,” she said, as her gloved fingers skirted along the inside of your knee, then your thigh, before reaching your pussy. Your labia, you corrected, internally. If she could be a professional about this, so could you. “Let me know if you feel any pain.”

You nodded, keeping your eyes focused intently on the ceiling above you. Even if you had looked down, your skirt would’ve blocked most of your view, which was how you preferred it. You couldn’t see Shoko, and hopefully, she couldn’t see the way you flinched as she spread a cold, pricking sort of lubricant over your entrance, as she eased two fingers into your otherwise dry cunt. You’d assumed she would use a tool, but then again, you couldn’t imagine what kind. And besides, you really shouldn’t have been questioning a doctor.

Shoko’s voice was gruff, distracted. “How’s that?”

“F-Fine,” you squeaked. “Please, do whatever you need to.”

“Satoru’s got you that worn down, huh?” She let out a breath of a laugh, but leaned in, easing her digits into until she was knuckle deep. Her fingers were thin, but long and graceful in a way that made them difficult to ignore when paired with the strange tactility of her gloves. Her free hand curled around your ankle, as if to hold you in place. “I’m going start the test. It might feel a little strange, so try not to move.”

She gave you a moment to brace yourself before spreading her fingers apart, inadvertently pressing against the sensitive walls of your pussy. On reflex, you snapped your thighs shut, but Shoko caught you by the knee before you could attempt to break her arm. “Easy there.” And then, as her thumb pushed slow circles into your skin, “Think you can hold these open for me?”

You didn’t try to say anything, but with more than a little effort, you spread your legs – planting your feet more firmly on either corner of the table. “Thatta girl,” Shoko muttered, seemingly more used to comforting scared pets than nervous patients. “Remember – we’re here because you wanted to be. If you want to back out, just say the word.”

You shook your head furiously, instinctually. You’d never do that to Shoko, and she seemed to know that – not waiting for verbal confirmation before starting to move. She seemed to need to stretch you open, judging by the repetitive, scissor-like motions of her fingers, the way she huffed in irritation as she slipped yet another digit inside of you. You knew it was inappropriate, but it would’ve been impossible to stop yourself from heating up, from squirming, from dampening around her in a way that you couldn’t entirely separate from arousal. You kept your hips still and dug your teeth into your bottom lip with enough force to break the skin (you would’ve rather died than moaned during a medical exam), but your cunt wasn’t as easily reigned in. It wasn’t long before a sickeningly slick clicking-type noise accompanied every little movement of her fingers. Hopefully, she’d just assume she’d used more lube than she’d meant to. You didn’t know what you’d do with yourself, if she didn’t.

“Like I said – it’s a quick procedure, not a comfortable one. Most patients have a difficult time staying still.” It was humiliating – how steady her voice was while you were falling apart, fighting just to keep yourself from bucking into a medical professional’s hand. It took everything you had not to whimper when the scissoring slowed, then stopped altogether, only to be immediately replaced by the awful, terrible, embarrassingly wonderful feeling of her fingers curling inside of you, grinding against the most vulnerable part of your cunt. “It’s important to be thorough, though. I’m sure you understand why this is necessary.”

She couldn’t have done it on purpose. Nothing about this could’ve ever been intentional, and yet, when her wrist slipped, the heel of her palm seemed to land perfectly onto your neglected clit. It wasn’t much, just the hint of stimulation, but it was enough for you to seize-up – your nails scrambling helplessly over smooth titanium as you came, silently, around her fingers. Shoko, ever the professional, didn’t so much as slow down.

She only hummed, keeping her hand where it was – her palm now grinding broad, harsh patterns into your clit. “Are you usually this easily stimulated?”

You opened your mouth, but all you could seem to choke out was a single, jagged whimper. Shoko clicked her tongue. “I’m sorry, I should’ve phrased that in a way you’d understand.” And then, as she spread her fingers apart cruelly, “Do you normally cum in less than a minute with Satoru?”

This time, a strangled cry was as much of an answer as you could’ve possibly given. You weren’t sure why she was asking, but… this wasn’t normal for you, was it? And now that she mentioned it, you did feel more stimulated than you should’ve during anything remotely medical. Your skin felt hotter, more sensitive where it’d come into contact with her lubricant, and it was getting hard to think, hard to justify not grinding into her hand as she curled and twisted her fingers inside of you. God. You knew you’d been a wreck, lately, but you never would’ve thought that it gotten this bad.

The nails of Shoko’s free hand bit into your ankle, and too strung-out to stop yourself, you let out a whine by way of protest. She chuckled, and suddenly, you were empty, left bucking your hips into vacant air as she drew back. “Poor thing,” she muttered, her sympathy tinged with a sardonic sort of condescension. “I’ve got one last test. Think you can bear with me?”

“Ye—Yes,” you chirped. At that point, it was meaningless – you would’ve agreed to anything so long as she was the one suggesting it. You’d shut your eyes at some point, but you could still hear Shoko’s footsteps, feel her standing above you as she positioned herself at your side. One gloved hand cupped your cheek while the other pressed something blunt and thick against your cunt and, with no warning other than a mumbled reminder to ‘breathe, pretty girl, breathe’, thrust it inside of you.

Her reminder, sadly, proved useless. The air hitched in your lungs as a ribbed shaft filled your overeager pussy, the object curved in a way that made it feel like it was pressing into every fucking part of you at the exact same fucking time. Your hands shot to Shoko’s wrist, searching for something more forgiving than cold metal to ground yourself with. You tried to pull yourself together, and you might’ve been able to if two distinct, silicone-wrapped prongs hadn’t slotted against your clit or, even more damningly, if whatever tool Shoko was using hadn’t started to shake.

Saying you came embarrassingly quickly would’ve been an understatement. There was no pretense of dignity, this time; just grit teeth and twitching legs and one long, miserable sob. Shoko nursed you through it, rocking her vibrating tool inside of you gently until your climax had died into total limpness and the occasional, unsteady gasp. The tool was drawn back, but Shoko’s hand lingered, her thumb tracing patterns into your cheek. “Such a good girl,” she mumbled, and you melted into her touch. “Feeling a little tired?”

It was sickeningly guilt-inducing, just how nice she was being to you after you’d done nothing but humiliate yourself in front of her. “A little,” you admitted, smiling sheepishly. Shoko smiled back. You couldn’t remember when she’d taken off her mask.

“Close your eyes and catch your breath. I’ll finish up while you get a little rest.”

It was all you could do to nod before slumping into yourself, your body going slack despite your best attempts to hold yourself up. Her reassurance was nice, but unnecessary.

In less than a full second, you were out like a light.

~

In Shoko’s defense, she did actually take the time to check. After you passed out, as delicate as Satoru had always bragged you were, she tested the blood sample taken prior to your “exam”. It took a total of three minutes, and left her with good news and bad news to deliver when you woke up.

The good news was, predictably, that you’d been right. You were pregnant. About a month along, in fact. Congratulations, mazel tov, etc.

The bad news was, of course, that you were pregnant, and that Satoru had finally managed to knock you up. Thoughts and prayers, get well soon, etc.

 From her make-shift desk on the far side of the room, she spared a glance to where you were still sleeping on her autopsy table. You’d rolled onto your side since she last checked on you, your pleated shirt bunching at your waist as you used your arms as a rudimentary pillow. It’d be a lie to say she didn’t understand why Satoru had gone so crazy about you so quickly. What you were – an ordinary human with enough cursed energy to see, but not act – was rare, your continuous ability to gloss over the uglier parts of their world in favor of perpetual, delusional optimism even more so. It’d be impressive, if she didn’t know it was going to get you fucked over eventually.

You were cute. It’s surprised her when she first met you in-person, when she first realized that.

It’d surprised her a little less when she realized that you even cuter mumbling gibberish as you came around her fingers.

Her eyes fell back to the phone in her hand. Her messages with Satoru were already open, what she’d been deliberating on telling him already typed out. She sighed, checked the picture she’d taken of you sprawled out on her table, three of her fingers buried in your cunt, and hit send.

[1 attachment]

your girlfriend has something to tell you.

sending a bill for my time btw.

Three dots appeared at the bottom of the screen, signaling that Satoru was typing a response, before disappearing just as quickly. He tried calling her a second later, and she muted her phone before tossing it half-heartedly in the nearest drawer and turning back to you. Judging by your durability (or lack thereof), she’d have a few more minutes before you woke up, and another half an hour before the aphrodisiac gel she’d used on you started to wear off. You’d likely want to rush home to Satoru, when you finally got your hard-earned results.

Again, Shoko sighed, a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

It’d just be a waste not to have a little fun while she could, right?

[r4spb3rr13s]

juicy couture + shinsou please !! love your blog 🎀💖

real or cap??

♱ shinsou x reader, fake dating stylez 🫢

♱ 1000 follower special ♱

♱ 2.2K words!

Hitoshi had so many other things he could be doing - studying for a class he actually took, for example. Instead, he sat stuffing his face with chips as you ranted at him about something called 'The Doppler Effect'.

This poor psych major's head was about to explode.

You faltered at the bewilderment on your friend's face and slumped down next to him with a groan. "I'm so fucked, 'toshi."

"You're notttt," He yawned. Hitoshi lifted his arms up to stretch, and you looked away quickly - ever since Mina pointed his happy trail you crumbled a little inside.

It was extremely distracting.

You cleared your throat, and pushed yourself up, snatching the bowl away from him.

"Hey!"

"'Scuse me?" You huff, "I need to eat too so I'm not drunk after two shots tonight."

Hitoshi froze. There was a pause. His voice came out meek, like a scared mouse.

"What."

You snorted at his blank face. His eyebags weren't as bad today, but they still cast a shadow on his pale face. The panic on his face made him look like a horror movie character at that moment.

"We're going out tonight? With Mina and Denki?"

Hitoshi's eyes widened, and let out a small 'fuck' under his breath. He desperately avoided your gaze, but still he shook his head in protest.

"Nope."

"Fuck you mean 'nope'?" You scoffed. It was a struggle getting Shinsou to come out with you all, but you knew he did actually enjoy everyone's company. His intense lack of energy balanced the other three of you surprisingly well.

He slumped back into the cushions and smothered himself in one of the pillows, groaning into it like a teenage girl. You chuckled at the adult baby and poked his shoulder. "You're coming. You even agreed on the group chat!"

"BUT I DON'T WANT TO-"

"TOO BAD."

:::

As Hitoshi stood at the entrance of 'The Three Boars' he'd never wanted to turn into a turtle and sink into his shell more.

You, on the other hand, stood beside him with a bright grin. And a very small outfit, he'd noted when he picked you up. He'd spent the Uber over gulping every time your skirt rode up and good god when you walked in front of him-

"Ready?"

He broke out of trance and looked at you. A frown crept on his face, but no real ill intent sat behind it because the smile on yours stopped it. He nodded.

Your hand brushed against his, and for some reason the hairs on the back of his neck stood attention. Your fingers reached out hesitantly, like you wanted to curl them into his palm and tug him along. But you didn’t.

Instead, you strode forward in front him and he found himself staring up, because he know if he didn’t, his eyes would find themselves glued to the backs of your thighs.

It was loud in the bar with music thrumming through the floor and people hollering at each other at the tops of their lungs. Two people managed to stand out in the crowd though - those two obviously being your two friends.

Mina and Denki are scream-laughing at strangers dancing, clearly already off their tits. Mina catches your eye and screams - the whole bar jumps at the shrill sound, but she pays no mind and hurtles towards you.

You laugh and hug her. "Y/n, I have a secret, c'mere," she mumbles. You stifle a laugh and lend her your ear. She cups her hand around your ear and... makes a fart noise.

Denki comes up behind up the two of you and cackles at the both of you. Shinsou can't help but let out a little snort at the sight. Seeing you smile would always make him the smile, anyways.

"Should we get drinks?" You ask. It's pointed at Shinsou, but Mina screeches 'yes' and drags you to the bar. You send a ‘sorry’ look at Hitoshi, and he just shrugs with a smile. You order your drinks and sit with Mina at the stools.

She's patting her hair back into place, eyes searching for the yellow-haired boy in the crowd. God knows where he's taken poor Shinsou.

You can see the look on her face - it's more obvious now she's drunk. Furrowed brows, jutted out lip and she's curled into herself a little bit more. "You still haven't told him?" You pry.

She jumps at your question and moves a pink curl from her eye. "No..."

"He's crazy about you," You sigh. The bartender puts your drinks down, you thank him, and take a sip- fuck, it's strong.

She raises a brow and rests her clumsy head against her hand. "Nahhhhh, he isn't."

"Yes, he is!"

"No, he isn't!"

"Mina-"

"Plus, can you even talk?"

That shuts you up, and your face twists in confusion. You let out a breathless laugh, "You're so drunk, dude-"

"Okayyy?" She says, an evil grin lighting up her dark eyes. "Hitoshi still has a big, fat crush on youuuuu," she sings. Her finger comes up and boops your nose, much to your dismay.

You waft her finger away and take a glance at the boy across the room. Both boys are sat down, Denki on some rant that includes waving his arms around like a car dealership blow-up. Your eyes drift to the purple haired boy.

He's sat back in his chair, his jacket off and arms straining at the short sleeves of his cotton shirt, and he does his signature stretch - the one that you 'hate' so much. Your eyes betray you, and your glancing down at the dark strip of hair leading to his belt-

"Jesus, just ask him out already. The whole room can feel you eye-fucking him, Y/n," Mina slurs. You snap your attention back to her with hot cheeks and shove her lightly. She's stuck between giggling at you and looking at something behind you.

A hand on your shoulder makes you jump out of your skin. You let out a small shout, and spin around. A tall guy looms over with a leering smile - it makes your skin crawl - and eyes drawing everywhere but your face.

He’s got dark, greasy hair and black eyes that look like pits into whatever ‘soul’ he has. There’s an air around him filled with arrogance, douchery, and frankly, danger.

"You single?" He drawls. He's uncomfortably close - nearly caging you in against the bar, with one hand on the counter behind you. The other hand is busy holding an empty pint of beer that you're thinking hasn't been his first.

Mina's watching the both of you with wide eyes, mouth opening and closing like a fish. You shake your head and laugh with anxiety. "I'm not interested, sorry," You mutter and slide off the stool.

Mina joins you and you're pushing through the crowd. She's in front of you, and you're nearly at the table, but there's a hand on your arm. It's holding tight.

A yelp leaves your lips but Mina's already through the crowd, probably at the table. You’re pulled back into the chest of the guy, and his face reeks of alcohol. A horrible grin spreads across yellow teeth and he flips his dark hair out of his face.

"I asked if you're single, so answer the question, sweetheart." He slurs, nose almost touching yours.

You tried to wrench your arm out of his grip, panic rising. The thrumming in your ears is getting louder, but your throat is so dry that nothing will come out. The few sips you had of your drink are making you foggy, but you know you need to move.

You managed to push some words out. "Listen, I just wanna sit with my friends-"

He presses himself against you, and your heart feels like it's going to burst out of your chest when he moves his mouth next to your ear. "Why can't we be friends?"

There’s a beat where you’re not really sure what happens, but something does.

You blink and you're free, a waft of air making you shiver for a second.

There's a back in front of you - a back you recognise immediately as Shinsou's, and his familiar smell of lavender and cedarwood fills your brain with the same feeling second-hand smoke from Denki’s blunts do.

The guy scoffs loudly and peers around Shinsou, gesturing at you with a pointed finger.

"She didn't fuckin' tell me she had a boyfriend! She was leadin' me on-"

Hitoshi let’s put a groan and puts his hands to his temples, “Shut the fuck up? Please?". He’s scowling, arms crossed, looming over Creep Mcgee. It's apparent he's a foot taller than the moron, the width of his shoulder making the two of them look like a comical before and after gym-plan ad.

If you hadn't been so shaken, you'd have laughed.

Instead, you found your hand subconsciously wrapping around Shinsou's bicep and glancing up at him. His gaze was steely and dark through narrowed eyes, and his tongue poked through his cheek.

The guy moved to say something again, but Shinsou shook his head. It was a warning, if anything.

Creep McGee just sighed and left, muttering things about you.

A few people had been watching, but they got bored and went back to their dancing and drinking. He looked down at you and his face softened, clenched jaw turning into a small smile on his lips.

"You okay?"

You nodded and tightened your grip on his arm. Your legs were shaking a bit, but you were alive so you couldn't complain.

He gave you a once-over and took your hand off his arm, holding it instead in his own. He looked at it for a second, and Mina's earlier words flashed in your mind.

"Hitoshi still has a big, fat crush on youuuuuu."

The memory made your face go hot again. Shinsou huffed, and started leading you to the door.

"No- I don't want to ruin it, I wanna stay for a bit-"

Hitoshi let out a chuckle in front of you and looked back with a smile you thought you'd swoon over. "We're jus' gettin' you some air, kay?"

His voice was soft and warm and felt like a million hugs and lit you on fire. You nodded obediently and let him lead you outside to sit on the curb a few steps from the door.

You sat clumsily, tugging your skirt down while Shinsou shook his head at you.

"Why do you even wear that stuff? It's always stressful for you," He asked as you finally sat next to him.

"'Cus it's cute? What, do I look bad?" You asked with a cheeky smile, nudging him.

He went quiet for a minute and looked out into the street, eyes following the passing cars. "Nah. You look beautiful." He admitted quietly.

Your heart jumps into your throat at his words. Your hair stands on end, and you feel like you've been electrocuted by Denki with the tingles and shivers flying across your skin.

You turn into Mina for a minute, and open-an-close your mouth like a fish. "...Thanks, boyfriend."

Hitoshi snorts and pushes your shoulder with a teasing smile. "Yeah, you wish, Y/n."

"Yeah, I do," you reply without a beat. You don't even realise what you've said before Shinsou turns to you with wide eyes.

Your hands fly up to smack your mouth in panic. What the fuck? Why would you say that! Y/n, for fuck's sake-

But a grin breaks out on his face, lighting up his violet eyes and they shine in the lamppost's light above him. Fuck, he looks like an angel with the white light halo-ing him, outlining his silhouette like a movie screenshot.

"Yeah?" He asks, and his voice has lowered a bit. His teasing tone is gone, and there's something different, you've never heard before - it's electrifying.

Hitoshi's inched forwards, and his eyes are flitting from your eyes to your bitten lips, making your body shake in anticipation. You know you're doing the same, watching his gaze on you darken and his lips form a shit-eating smirk he'll use to annoy you later.

But you don't give a fuck, because you nod.

He moves fluidly, hand snaking up to cup your neck, half in your hair, and rush you towards his lips. A muttered 'fuck' leaves his mouth before he kisses you, and it's everything you've ever imagined.

He tastes like tobacco - a habit he pretends he doesn't indulge in - and minty gum, making your head spin more than it already is. He's soft, moving with your mouth slowly and taking you in.

Your hand rests on his chest, and you can feel his heart hammer at an unhealthy rate. Air is rushing out of you, so you force yourself to separate from Hitoshi. It’s reluctant, and you wish you could spend all your time against the soft pillows that are his lips, but unfortunately you require oxygen to survive. A cruel reality.

You're both panting into the cold air, staring at each other. A little giggle escapes you, and Hitoshi laughs, and then you both end up in a fit of laughter with your hands still cradling the other.

"Boyfriend?" Hitoshi asks contemplatively, pretending to think it over. You snort and hit him on the chest.

"Take me out on a date, first, pushy."

He grins and pecks your nose, hand still cradling the back of your neck. "I guess I'll have to, then."

"Well, in that case... can you go get me another drink? I left mine on the bar-"

"Good God, Y/n."

taglist: @todoslutbyheart @aespie @itzlittlemissperfect @im-so-tired-sorry @mangalovesanime-blog @livingmydreamlife5555

[scarletssienna]

I Only See Daylight

Summary - Weekends in with your girlfriend are your favorite. They’re even better when she makes your favorite cookies. 1.3k words

Warnings - fluff, fluff and smut, dom!sub undertones, mommy Wanda, fingering, orgasm denial, biting, praise, hair pulling, begging

AN- mommy Wanda is my absolute favorite. Can be read as a standalone or as a little blurb of the mommy coffee shop fic

18+, minors/men dni

Mundane summer mornings were always your favorites. The simplicity in the days when Wanda didn’t have work. The way her footsteps would fall gently across the wooden floor. When she would wake you up in the morning with gentle kisses and promises of pancakes. The sun would just barely peek through the curtains. When you would yawn and rub your eyes and she smothered you with love. Those were the best days.

Today, you laid on the couch, snuggled up with your favorite blanket while Wanda hummed along in the kitchen to one of her favorite songs. You had assumed she was just making an afternoon snack but when she took longer to return accompanied by much noise of pots and pans banging around you curiously went to investigate. You wandered into the kitchen, pink socks with tiny bows sliding across the floor. You had simply deemed getting dressed on the weekends to stay in was unnecessary. So there you stood, in a long t-shirt and panties, smiling at the girl in the kitchen in front of you. She hadn’t noticed your quiet approach so you took the surprise route. Quietly you snuck up behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist and peppering kisses across her back. She yelped softly at the surprise of you before turning around and wrapping her arms around you closely.

“Hi there Detka,” she hummed happily as she pressed a kiss to the top of your head, letting you snuggle in close to her chest.

“Whatcha doin?” You asked, closing your eyes as you leaned into her embrace. She hummed above you and kissed the top of your head, her hands wandering across your body.

“Making your favorite cookies.” She said with a smile as her hands rested on your ass, grabbing a handful. Her wandering hands were no distraction to you. It was typical and you were used to her groping and grabbing hands as she had told you many times ‘Mommy shouldn’t have to keep her hands off of what’s hers.’ Your head lifted and your eyes glistened when she told you.

“Chocolate chip!?” You exclaimed excitedly as you looked into her eyes. Though a frown formed across Wanda’s face.

“Chocolate chip? Oh darling, I thought your favorites were the sugar cookies.” She said, biting her bottom lip. You quickly looked away from her, settling your head back on her chest to hide your disappointment.

“That’s okay.” You mumbled quietly, causing Wanda to grin and squeeze your ass again.

“I’m just teasing, pretty girl, I’m making the chocolate chip cookies.” She chuckled and reached over grabbing a chocolate chip off the counter and placing it in your mouth. You looked back up excited and happily took the chocolate into her mouth, biting her fingers before she could pull them away quick enough. She chuckled and pressed her fingertip to your nose and shook her head. “Wanna help Mommy finish them up?” She asked with a smile. You nodded in response and pulled back from her embrace a little so that you could help her. She walked over to the counter, grabbing your hand softly to pull you along. She stood behind you, arms wrapped around you as she measured out a few of the ingredients, handing them to you to pour in the bowl. One of her hands worked along with you while her other one rested happily holding and playing with your tit. Your happiness was undeniable. Though it quickly faded when she handed you the whisk and you immediately spilled half the dry ingredients all over. The guilt of messing up the cookies took over and you instantly stepped back, forgetting she was right behind you. She caught you in her embrace and pressed a kiss to the side of your head.

“It’s okay, here. We can clean it up.” She stepped to the side and scooped the ingredients back into the bowl. You nodded a little as you watched her. She grabbed the other ingredients and cracked an egg into the bowl before passing the other to you. “Here.” She hummed with a smile. You smiled a little and walked over, cracking the egg into the bowl. Except there were several egg shells that made their way in as well. When you messed up again tears filled your eyes and you stepped away. Wiping your hands off onto your shirt.

“You finish them.” You said in only a whisper causing Wanda to quickly walk over to you. She cupped your face in her hands and pressed soft kisses across your face.

“Shh Detka, it’s okay. The cookies are going to be just fine. You sit here while Mommy finishes these up.” She said as she held you closely in her arms. You sniffled and settled in her arms. She then walked over and tapped a clean spot on the counter for you to sit. She set a small pile of chocolate chips next to you to keep you occupied while she finished up the cookies. When the cookies were finished and on a pan she put them in the oven before setting a timer and walking over to you. She pushed your legs apart, settling between them as her hands began to wander across your body again. “You were feeling some big feelings back there weren’t you pretty girl?” She asked in a sultry tone as she pouted out her bottom lip. You nodded and sighed at her touch. Her fingertips danced between your thighs before sliding up your chest and under your shirt. “You have no reason to be thinking Detka, pretty little girls like you don’t need to do that.” She hummed, pinching your nipple between her fingers causing you to arch your chest towards her with a moan.

She slid her other hand into your hair. She tangled her fingers and pulled you into a sloppy kiss. You eagerly kissed her back. Your tongues moving at a messy pace you couldn’t quite follow. With a swift tug she pulled your head to the side, kissing and nipping at your neck, leaving ample marks as she moved.

“Mommy please.” You whimpered desperately as you bucked your hips into her. Her hand moved down into your panties. A grin spread across her face as she watched your pleasure grow. You moaned at her touch, her fingers tenderly swirling across and around your clit. She was careful to avoid, wanting to tease. You closed your eyes, letting your head fall onto her shoulder as you moaned. Groaning out her name, your moans became frequent as she worked you up quickly. Her fingers slipped inside you slowly causing you to buck your hips again. She softly tisked and halted her movements. When you stilled she continued, moving at a slow, painful pace. “Mommy.” You whimpered. She couldn’t resist your sweet sounds for too long. Her hand picked up speed and her thumb went to your clit. The change in pace and rhythm caught you by surprise. You let out a loud moan as you softly bit at her shoulder to stifle it. You grew towards your orgasm quickly. But just as quickly as it started suddenly it all stopped.

The timer went off with a loud annoying ding causing Wanda to step back from you. She pulled her fingers out and pushed them up to your lips. Whimpering loudly when she pulled her fingers out you complained.

“Mommy no.” You whined, causing her to stick her fingers into your mouth. You took the fingers into your mouth, sucking them clean before releasing them with a quiet pop. With her other hand she turned the timer off before walking away from you. She put on an oven mitt and pulled the cookies out of the oven. You watched her, pressing your thighs together as you whined, impatiently for her to return.

“Hush sweetheart.” She hummed and walked over with a cookie while she blew on it. “We have to be quick, I have some work in the garden to do.” She hummed with a smile. “Have a treat while Mommy has hers.” She said with a smile as she passed the cookie to you and squatted down, settling her head between your thighs.

[moonstruckme]

Apple pie with spencer read and qn airport terminal qt midnight

Thanks for requesting!

cw: mention of bad eating habits, mentioned unease around germs

Spencer Reid x fem!reader ♡ 729 words

“Spence.” Your voice is soft, your fingers combing through his hair even softer. Spencer’s head rests heavy on your shoulder. You shield his eyes from the harsh lights with a hand, hoping to rouse him gently. “Honey, wake up.” 

Spencer’s eyebrows furrow. Or, one does, the other already squished towards furrowing by the way it’s laying on your shoulder. You hate to wake him—Spencer tends to have a hard time relaxing at airports, what with all the germs—but your window to get something to eat is closing. 

“Aren’t you hungry?” you ask him, coaxing. 

“No,” he mumbles, but he’s blinking awake, looking up at you with soft, sleepy brown eyes. “Are you?”

You give him a sheepish smile. “A little. Sorry, do you mind if I get up to go look for something? Everything’s closing.” 

“No, don’t be sorry. I’m sorry I almost made you miss dinner.” Spencer sits up, stretching his neck. He pushes his shoulders back lazily, and you can hear his bones crackle. “I’ll go with you.”  

You protest half-heartedly but ultimately capitulate, picking up the heavy backpack before he can and leaving your boyfriend to tow the suitcase. At this time the airport is near empty, the only people to be seen the sad band of vagabonds sitting at your gate waiting for your plane to arrive. You’ve been delayed two hours by the weather. Spencer will have to wake up four hours from when you get home to go to work, you only a half hour later.

You realize as you walk that you may be too late. While the websites you’d checked had said their airport locations would be open until midnight, the employees are already cleaning out machines, wiping down counters, pulling metal gates closed over their entrances. 

Spencer makes a worried oh sound, realizing the same thing.

“There’s an Auntie Anne’s down there,” you say hopefully, starting to walk faster in case they’re closing, too. That glowing yellow sign is your light at the end of the tunnel.

Spencer speeds up with you, but protests, “A pretzel isn’t a meal, sweetheart.” 

“It might be my only option,” you point out. “Also, I saw you eat a bag of salt and vinegar chips for dinner last week. You don’t get to talk.” 

You hear a soft, slightly petulant huff behind you. You might give him shit for it if you weren’t in a rush. 

You try to order as quickly as possible, feeling guilty for making the employee serve you just before close. But then the cup is in your hand, warm and smelling of cinnamon, and you think you probably would have vaulted the counter to get it yourself had she refused you. It’s heavenly. 

You wait until you get back to the gate to start eating, wanting to savor every bite. When you do, you have to close your eyes, forcibly smothering a moan. They’re everything you wanted and more. You shovel them into your mouth faster than is probably safe and definitely faster than anyone’s mother would approve of, and it’s not until you’re more than halfway done that you notice Spencer’s stare.

You give him a wry look. “So now you’re hungry?” 

“What?” He looks startled. “I didn’t say anything.”

“You’re practically drooling.” 

“No, I’m not,” he says, though you notice him tighten his lips as though checking to be sure. 

You sigh, holding them out to him. “It’s okay. Have some.” 

“No.” Spencer frowns with his eyebrows. “They’re yours.” 

“It’s seriously okay,” you say, more genuinely this time. “I’d hate for you to miss out. They’re really good.” 

He can only resist temptation for so long. He takes one, and his reaction is nearly the same as yours had been, expression going soft at the perfect, delicious warmth of them. 

“In exchange,” you suggest as he reaches for more, “can I take a turn napping on your shoulder for a while?” 

“Yeah, of course,” says Spencer, managing to sound smitten even though a mouthful of cinnamon pretzel bites. He settles back in his chair, trying to give you as comfortable a pillow as possible. 

“Thanks.” You sigh through your nose as you lay your head down, pulling your legs up onto the chair with you and closing your eyes. “I can’t believe we have to go to work tomorrow morning.” 

“This morning,” Spencer corrects you. 

You groan. 

[milk5]

Somehow god has allowed the lousiest pita chip in the world to be granted the honor of a delightful roasted red pepper hummus smothering

[hansel-blimp4]

Was so stuffed last night, large chips, large sausage in batter, large roll and all of it smothered in grease and sauce. My belly was packed full in agony but my greed got the better of me and within 5 minutes I’ve got half a Yule log, vine of grapes and cream making me into a Christmas balloon! X

[ohimsummer]

STRESS RELIEVER ft. SATORU GOJO

— minors dni, stressed! satoru, afab! reader, creampie, established relationship (you're married), slow sex, fingering, pussydrunk! satoru

wc 1.4k

Some days are harder than others, especially for your husband.

It’s immediately evident when Gojo's had a bad day. He leaves grinning and lively—as much as he can be anyway with complaints of having to abandon your company rolling off the tongue— and returns abnormally quiet, depleted of his usual energy and blue eyes muted with fatigue. The stress of defeating curses and going back and forth with the higher-ups has chipped away at his nonchalant facade until there’s nothing left. All that remains of him is frustration, and worry, and exhaustion.

Despite his lethargic and closed off demeanor tonight, Satoru wordlessly pleads for you to grace him with your presence with a slight squeeze of your hand. He doesn’t yet smother you in his routine, after-work hug, but you’re still content with his slow, relaxing caress of your lower back. An arm cast over his eyes and blindfold loose around his neck, tension deflates from his body as the hours tick by, and the rhythmic sounds of your low breathing act as a soothing background noise to ease the furrow of his brows.

“Baby?”, he whispers against the crown of your head. The moon has long risen since you’ve joined his silent lounging, so he’s not even really expecting an answer.

“Hm…?”, comes your murmured response, and it’s somewhat of a surprise to him. “Yes, Satoru?”

The heavy hand on your back drifts lower, closer to the hem of your pajama shorts. Curious fingers prance at the bottom of your ass, cool against your warm skin to send a shiver up your spine. “Can I feel you?”

It’s a vague question, but you know what he means. With your slow nod for confirmation, Satoru’s dipping a thumb below the fabric of your panties, pulling before letting it snap against your skin; a smile threatens to tug at his lips when he does it again, and prompts your small whine in complaint. His fingers are eager—dancing along the edges of your panties to grope at your hips, ass, and thighs—before then slipping between your puffy folds. He’s soon greeted with your wetness coating his digits, and begins rubbing slow circles on your throbbing clit. A small moan escapes you at his motions, hips needily raising for more before getting ahold of yourself. You can’t afford to be selfish right now. This is for Satoru’s sake after all, not yours.

“Attagirl.,” he cheekily mutters, and presses harder against your swollen nub as a little reward.

Your indecisive grip wrinkles Gojo’s button-up, brows creased against his broad chest at the sickeningly slow pace. But you're determined not to complain, and only honor him with the shameless whimpers and moans that spring free from your lips, a melody that sends blood rushing straight to his length. Satoru readjusts his free arm to wrap around your waist and hold you snug, hips shifting beneath you so the prominent bulge of his hardening cock grinds against your tummy.

“God, you’re driving me crazy…” is all he can admit; it comes out somewhat as a raspy whine and that speaks volumes. Satoru’s been pent up since his first mishap of the day, and if he’s not careful, he’ll blow a load in his pants just from a little dryhumping. Embarrassing, but that’s just how much he’s craving you.

A finger traces your spasming hole and Satoru groans out a ‘fuck’, head thrown back on the arm of the couch as your pussy sucks the digit in with ease. The wetness of your cunt soaks his fingers and warmth floods to your cheeks as a squelching sound breaks the silence.

Satoru hisses into your ear. “Fuuck, angel, you’re makin’ such a mess. Hear that?”

The pace of his fingers picks up, tips just nudging your sweet spot, and lewd, wet noises reach your eardrums.

“You-you’re so–,” a cry breaks through your sentence and tears begin to dot along your lashes, thighs trembling as your husband rapidly pushes you to your first orgasm. “–gross.” The statement is muffled as you bury your face back into his chest.

He at first chuckles in reply, before teasing further. “Oh, don’t be mean, sweetheart, it’s not my fault this pussy is so in love with me.” One finger, and then two as he scissors open your hole, stretching you out in preparation for his swollen cock. “Just look at her drooling all over my fingers, she’s obsessed.”

Satoru halts his fingers at the worst moment, right on the edge of your orgasm, and he knows it. He loves edging you, he selfishly wants you to feel as desperate as he does right now and he has no problem making that happen. You follow his hand with dazed vision, watching your own slick flow down the contour of his hand. Captivating, blue eyes reel you in, and Gojo doesn’t break your gaze as he wraps his lips around two fingers, moaning as he makes a show of sucking them dry. He takes your chin in his hand and you meet him halfway, pressing your own lips to his in a kiss and licking the taste of yourself off his tongue. A smirk widens on his face, mouth open to swallow the needy whimpers of his name from your throat. Satoru’s hands go back to toying with you, gripping and kneading the flesh of your ass as you both grind against eachother, your thighs rubbing together for any bit of friction you can get.

A few agonizingly long minutes go by before Satoru finally tugs his stiff cock from the confines of his pants. On a normal day, he’d take more time to tease you, rub his dribbling tip over your thighs and pussy to smear precum and slick and make a bigger mess all over the place. But you receive some leniency today. Your boyfriend doesn’t have the time, energy, and certainly not the patience for some extra fun.

“Oh–h, fuck, Satoru…,” you moan into the crevice of his neck, pussy tightening around him as he breaches your entrance.

“Mm, I know, baby.,” he hums into your hair. One hand caresses your head while the other continues massaging your ass. “F– fucking shit, love this pussy, can’t get enough of it.” And you’d tease him about his earlier comments if the stretch of his cock didn’t leave you speechless.

You gulp down deep breaths as Satoru sinks into you inch by inch, gradually burying his length into the welcoming heat of your walls. Lids clenched shut, your whiny moans of Satoru mix with his low, unfinished praises; words stuttered from his plump lips as he tries not to cum so soon. A high-pitched, broken cry exits your throat when he bottoms out, and you feel so full of him, throbbing length easily reaching that euphoria-inducing spot along your insides. Satoru’s fat cock fits in perfectly, lubricated with the heavy flow of your juices; he’s big, a lot more than you could handle but his teasing words and thick fingers are always more than enough to prep your little hole.

Satoru takes a moment basking in the warm, snug feeling of your cunt. You clench and flutter around him, pussy begging him for any kind of movement. The impatient squirming of your hips doesn’t help; his dick twitches, already on the verge of painting your walls white but he’s determined to relish in the feeling of you for a little longer. Gojo begins a leisurely pace of thrusting, which very quickly turn to needy ruts into your heat. The vice grip of your pussy has him whining lovesick praises against your skin; they’re topped off with rough kisses that help tighten the coil in your tummy as you lazily move to meet the hammering of his hips, clit grinding against the base of his crotch. He’s so conscious of every inch of you: your tits pressed against his chest, fingers curling into his hair or tugging his shirt, thighs tightening around his waist, lips brushing against his own as you feed him the noises that escape from within.

On tiring days like this, Satoru loves to be greedy, squeezing and grabbing the fat of your thighs and waist, selfishly indulging in your body as you allow him to use you. He’s dealt with long, exhausting hours, and Satoru is so grateful to come home to you, his gorgeous little wife, who lets him play with her body however he sees fit just so he can relieve some steam. You’re so kind, so patient with him even on his worse days. As he drags his veiny cock along your walls, feeling you clench and grip his dick as you both approach your first orgasms, Satoru can feel his stress just melting away.

tagz: @staryukis @anthoosies :3

[k-4-ni]

JASON TODD who has every single allergy engraved into his brain, you ordered a sandwich with something you are allergic to? Nope, He's giving it back. He finds out that he keeps something you're allergic to in his place. Nope, he's throwing it away. He always checks the ingredients on chips, packets of biscuits, and food, He never wants to see you in pain or swollen from something that could been effortlessly avoided.

JASON TODD who is an absolute whore for cuddles, it doesn't matter what you're doing or where you are, whether you're cooking or studying, fixing a broken object— he's going to drag you back to bed and smother you with his muscly arms and sloppy kisses, saying something along the lines of:

"Please, Just five more minutes... Breakfast can wait."

JASON TODD t keep his hands or eyes off you, he can't help it— He treasures the way your hair sways back and forth, the way it shines and curls and kisses his fingers whenever he twirls it in his hands, or the way you cook away a feast in the kitchen, keeping an eye on you in case you needed a hand, keeping an eye on the way you tugged at your bottom lip with your teeth, the way your apron hugged and embraced your curves like you were carved out of roses and silk, God he would've trembled to his knees if you asked him to.

JASON TODD who can't control his hands whenever he's around you— cuddling you— devouring you, savouring you, his hand squeezing, kneading, touching and massaging... From the soft, plush flesh of your thighs to the curves and dents of your hips, the way his fingers glide over your skin sends his brain into a frenzy, the things he would do just to have your thick thighs cage his head in are unbelievable.

"You're so soft, angel... So soft and squishy, C'mere lemme hold you."

[emmyrosee]

“How come you get to ride in the cart?” He says, a pout in his voice but a smirk curling at his lips. Your hip cocks up as your arms cross over your chest, more than willing to duke this out with him in the entrance of the store.

“Uh, because I’m adorable?” Your words only make his grin spread even more, he knows he’s supposed to make an argument against that but he can’t bring himself to; it’s true, you’re perfect in every trace of the word.

But who was he to go down without a fight?

“But baaaaabe,” he whines further, folding his torso into the cart. “I’m so sore from practice and ‘Samu hit me with the ball and I’ve been walking funny since, and I just want my perfect, stunning, and oh, so smart-“

“Oh my god, fine, just get in the cart!” You snort, the giggles bubbling from your lips. He merely grins victoriously before scrambling himself up and into the cart, other shoppers watching in annoyance and amusement as you watch his knees fold up to his chest.

“Comfy?” You snort, to which he nods over enthusiastically. You roll your eyes before folding yourself over the front of the cart to plant a kiss on his head.

“What do you even need, anyways?” He hums, his head turning back and forth in the superstore, sharp eyes glazing over the shelves. You lean on the handles of the cart, looking around and making a beeline straight to the snacks, giving him a dramatic sigh as you do so.

“Well,” you hum. “I know you wanted m&m’s and popcorn, but I also wanted to grab a few bags of Doritos and since the fuckface I decided to let spoon me at night ate the last of my cookies,” your eyes glare dead at him, only to be met with a wide, toothy grin. “I need to buy more.”

“The guy who spoons you at night sounds hot.”

“The guy who spoons me at night sounds like I’m going to smother him with a pillow.” With that, you two make your way to the snack aisle, your eyes glazing over the contents of the shelves hungrily. “You want any drinks or anything?”

“Nah, I’ll just take whatever you buy.”

You glare at him, “that’s kinda the reason we’re in here in the first place, you clown.”

He snorts at the nickname before hooking his chin over the side of the cart, his sharp eyes flicking over the colored bottles and cans. “Toss me a grape soda.”

“Grape?”

“Yeah.”

“Mid,” you scoff, grabbing him a can to put in the cart. He blinks unamused at you, but ultimately keeps his mouth shut while you make your choice.

“Oh, but my choice is mid,” he teases as you plop a can of lemon lime in his lap.

“This flavor has been worshipped all over the world- you just like the taste of cough medicine or something.”

“My mom only buys the bubblegum flavored cough medicine.”

“Feral.”

The little back and forth you share passes the time as you turn the cart to the chips and Candy, and without sparing a second, you grab the Doritos and toss them carelessly into the cart, smirking as you hear them crunch against his head and body.

“You know, I may annoy you, but I am still in the cart,” he says, shielding himself from another bag of chips that you swat in the cart. When he turns his head up to glare at you, he sees the goofy smile spread over your cheeks, and he’ll happily get beat up by your snacks if it meant he could see it forever.

It’s simple. It’s comfortable, annoying each other throughout the aisles and laughing when the other makes a stupid jab, but Rintaro knows that this is all he’s worked up for. A domesticity that had to be crafted carefully, and he’s honored that you decided to map it with your love.

It’s nothing all like he’d expected love to be like- and now, it’s love he’d never change for anything.

“Get your cookies and lets get the hell out of here.”

“Why? Afraid we’ll miss another episode that we’ve seen forty-eight thousand times?” You jeer, steering the cart to the back wall, where all the cookies are tucked away. He decides to say nothing, merely letting your own joke make you chuckle.

He says you're easy to sedate like that. Really, he does it because the way you get the last word makes you happy.

He watches your lips pull back into an almost relieved smile, grabbing the box of cookies and nodding happily, all before turning back to him in the cart.

“Now be careful,” you warn, clutching the sweet to your chest protectively. “Suna, I’m trusting you with the most precious cargo in the cart. Do not blow it.”

“God, no need to bring out the government name, just give me the damned cookies,” he scoffs, making grabby hands and rolling his eyes when you hesitate. “And for the record, I’m the most precious cargo in the cart. Don’t even start with me.”

“You’re like. Fifth, on the tier list.”

“I’m going to fart on your pillow. Give me the cookies.”

You do, with another small smirk. "You want anything else, baby?" You ask, though you proceed to the checkout.

"Nah, I think I'm good, booger."

You hum and steer him to the self checkout, letting you bag the snacks while he passes them to you, citing you both as the "dream team"- which briefly collapses when you refuse to take his card to pay for everything and chuckling as he scrambles for the wallet tucked in his back pocket.

"You're annoying," he grumbles at your lack of acceptance for his chivalry.

"And you're squishing my snacks- you trying to sleep on the couch?"

Regardless, you push him out of the store and into the night air, and even if he'd rather chew on glass than admit it, the way your face relaxes at the feeling of fresh air makes him melt, and he smiles dopily until you jerk the cart.

"Okay. Get out."

"Huh?"

For a moment, just a moment, it's possible that Suna Rintaro forgot he's in the cart.

"Get out. I'm not wheeling you home, babe."

He sends you a playful glare before using massive hands to grip the side of the cart for leverage. He tries to push back, but his legs can't extend much farther out.

At this point, you're just watching, one brow cocked in amusement and tongue licking the corner of your mouth victoriously. If you didn't look so hot, Rintaro would be furious.

“Babe?”

“What's up, player?"

There’s a silence between you both. You're the absolute worst in this situation by barely even acknowledging his struggle. his lanky frame, still in the wired shopping cart, looks so cramped, and maybe, just maybe, if one of the Gods loved him, they would smite him down from the face of the earth right now.

You smirk, “problems?"

"I'm gonna cheat on you with Kita-San."

"Like he'll he's gonna want you when you're stuck in a cart you begged to be in."

He gnaws at his lip in focus, trying to will his knees to unbuckle from their position and out of the cart.

But they refuse.

He whimpers in his throat while you point and finally cackle at him, loudly, rudely, being absolutely no help in this scenario, and he finally hides his face in his bent knees in embarrassment.

“I’m stuck in the cart.”