#definite fluff

[do-it-for-the-fandom]

My good friend had finished his first ever fan-fiction! I’m so very proud of him and all of his hard work. ❤️

[demigods-posts]

headcanon that percy and annabeth have a relationship contract they made after they got together once the war came to pass. they outlined it on paper in percy's bedroom. typed up a final draft using sally's laptop. and printed out and laminated it at the local library on their two month anniversary. and they abide by it like it's the law.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

YOU’RE AN ANGEL, I’M A DOG ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; an upcoming exam has been stressing you out, and satoru’s pleas for you to take care of yourself fall on deaf ears. he takes matters into his own hands.

word count; 4.3k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, yan!gojo, as far as yanderes go he’s very mild i think (im sensitive u can trust me!!), mentions of blood, implied murder (not depicted!!), he threatens your professor w a knife lol, surprisingly fluffy??, gojo is soooo lovesick & smitten, he just wants his baby to live a happy life :( is that so wrong :((, also your parents love him <33 and he calls you honey <333 ideal man.

a/n; i blacked out & when i woke up this was in my drafts… mysterious. @kissxcore here u go alexis <33 one very smitten morally gray yan!gojo just for u!! i completely lost the plot halfway through but i had a lot of fun writing this!! :33 i don’t dabble in yan content at all so it was a fun lil challenge hehe, i hope it ended up . Somewhat .. decent…

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

”haah…”

— the sigh spills into the air, like a dot of ink on paper, dripping with exhaustion; a palpable fatigue that has his heart clenching beneath his ribs.

just as he feared, you’re here. again. seated on the couch, in the living room, legs crossed and framed by flimsy strings of moonlight; illuminated only by the dim light of the laptop in front of you. carding through your hair, blinking sluggishly.

another sigh. deep, exasperated, from satoru this time. he keeps a single hand on his hip, brows furrowed in soft disappointment. 

”honey… what do you think you’re doing?”

you jolt, the sudden sound breaking you out of whatever trance you were previously in. when your gaze flits to his, craning your head to see him rest against the wall leading up to your bedroom, he thinks you look a little like a kid caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

it makes him smile. despite his disapproval.

”ah — satoru! it’s… um.” a moment passes. he can practically see the gears of your mind turning, searching for a good excuse. ”… not what it looks like?”

he clicks his tongue. ”nice try.”

then he’s walking towards you, in long strides, gliding across the room like a butterfly in search of nectar. from the sweetest flower there ever was.

even when said flower is still awake, past midnight, pulling an all-nighter despite his frequent advice not to. his very frequent, very thoughtful advice not to strain yourself until you just about pass out.

but you just won’t listen.

”’m disappointed in you, baby,” he huffs, just playful enough to ward off any genuine feelings of distress. he could never truly be disappointed in his baby. ”what did we say about studying this late, hm?”

a sheepish chuckle slips past your lips. satoru is standing in front of you, hands on his hips, raising a questioning eyebrow as you squirm. lighthearted, yes, but genuine. it makes you feel a little guilty.

”… sorry,” you breathe, closing the lid of your laptop. knowing he won’t let you stay up any longer. with the loss of light, your face becomes shrouded in darkness. ”just can’t sleep when i’m so stressed.”

at that, satoru makes a tiny noise — something worried, a little sad, from the base of his throat. a soft frown finds its way onto his lips, and he blinks the sleep away from his senses. plopping down beside you.

”i know. i’m not trying to lecture you,” he croons, reaching out to cradle the apple of your cheek. you melt into him like molten honey, easy and sweet. ”just worried. know you’re stressed.”

and he does. he does know — it’s all he’s been able to think about, these past few weeks. to his dismay, he’s even begun to grow used to this sight, used to finding you in the midst of working yourself to exhaustion. fighting the urge to sleep, slumped over your desk, or cooped up on the couch. staring into your laptop like it holds the secrets of the universe.

time and time again, he’s told you to take care of yourself. tried to coax you into relaxing, rubbing your sore shoulders and kissing the puffy skin beneath your eyes. but this exam is important — you’ve told him as much, more times than he can count. he doesn’t doubt that you’re right. 

of course you’d be stressed. he gets it.

still, though.

”but you know it’s not good, yeah? that it’ll just burn you out?” his thumb goes to smooth over the dark crescents beneath your eyes, gentle as a feather. ”we don’t want that, do we?”

you bite your lip. trapping it between your teeth. he knows you know. ”… yeah,” you admit, a flimsy little sigh on your tongue. ”it just feels easier to do this at night. don’t know why.”

”my little night owl.”

that makes you smile, a little, but it’s not enough to satisfy him. he curls an arm around your waist, and drags you into his lap; gentle, always gentle, like all that exists under your skin is made of porcelain. like the lines of your face form a string of words, a label of fragile: handle with care. he always does.

with his heartbeat by your ear, his warmth melting into yours, it’s easier to speak. a pressure on your chest that fades away. ”i’ll try not to do it again,” you murmur, biting back a soft yawn. nuzzling into his neck. ”promise. don’t wanna worry you…”

satoru softens. 

(always so good to him.)

”it’s fine, honey. i understand.” he smiles, smoothing down your spine, counting the bumps of vertebra that slide along his palm. ”don’t worry that pretty little head of yours over me, alright?”

in return for his comfort, you wriggle away, lifting your head to give him a smile. one of your many smiles, each one fervently cherished by him; the one you’re wearing now is tired, a soft curl of your lips, the kind that makes him want to lull you to sleep. just the sight alone makes the anxiety in his veins feel like a worthy investment.

he doesn’t tell you anything that could cause that joy to diminish. doesn’t tell you that he can’t sleep without you, that he can barely breathe knowing you’re this stressed all time. doesn’t tell you that he jolted awake with a sinking feeling of dread, a gaping pit in his stomach when he didn’t immediately feel the warmth of your skin against his. doesn’t tell you that he always, always assumes the worst.

satoru doesn’t tell you these things. it’s a safety measure, an act of love. a bundle of unvoiced syllables, woven into white lies, silky and sweet. tailor-made to put your aching mind at ease. 

satoru thinks you deserve everything good.

it’s a theory, of sorts, a train of thought. a hypothesis made manifest. after many years of pondering, he’s arrived at the following conclusion; you are all that’s good. therefore, it only follows that you deserve everything that’s good, all of it and more. satoru believes you deserve every single thing your little heart desires — and he’s determined to give it to you.

so he’s been worried.

it’s not that he doesn’t trust you. he knows you’ll ace the exam, knows you’ll do your very best, knows you’ll make him proud. you always do. you aren’t the problem, no, never.

he just doesn’t trust your professor. 

that unfair, stuck-up, incompetent professor who’d fail his students just for being a couple minutes late, who curates his exams to be as convoluted as humanly possible. you and your friends are starting to suspect he just likes berating people for a living. satoru knows it all, he’s heard it all, of course he has. satoru pays attention to everything, when it comes to you. he knows all about your professor, the man who’s been making your studies pure hell for the past semester.

it makes his blood boil. steady, ruminating, hot and heavy in his veins. a rivulet of lava.

(it was only a matter of time.)

satoru is a teacher too; he knows that type. one that has no business being a teacher, in the first place, one no student deserves to be subjected to. he’s met more of them in his career than he could even begin to count. the thought of one of his own students being at the mercy of someone so incompetent makes his skin itch.

and the thought of you, seated on the couch, crying and sniffling when he comes home because none of the exam questions made enough sense for you to even try —

it makes satoru want to claw his skin off.

it makes that tiny, tiny cavern in his heart extend, widen, like a maw, swallowing up his liver and lungs and sense of morality. an emptiness begging to be filled. 

there’s only one way to satiate it.

so he plants a wet kiss on your forehead, ruffles your hair, tucks you into bed and waits until you fall asleep. deep and heavy, a slumber you won’t wake up from anytime soon. he presses his lips to your forehead one more time — for good measure.

then he grabs his coat and slips outside.

the moon is visible through the window.

a thin crescent, nailed next to the dim stars, leaking a dream-like fluorescent shine; illuminating the office, so quiet he can hear those erratic breaths spill out, one by one. a heavy, heavy silence, thick enough to spread like butter over toast. 

(ah, that’s right — he forgot to buy the butter you asked for this morning. no wonder he feels so out of sorts. he’ll have to grab it on his way back.)

”who… w — what are — ?”

satoru stays silent. lips pursed, eyes keen, burning into the back of the man in front of him. close, almost chest to back, enough to have him scowling in displeasure. 

just being in his presence makes satoru feel a little sick. 

he keeps the blade pressed right beneath his adam’s apple, a silver glimmer in an office painted blue and gray. not enough to sink into his skin, but enough to have his heartbeat hammering, enough that satoru can practically feel those rapid flutters of life. brushing against his gloved hand.

he gets straight to the point. voice muffled by the fabric covering his mouth, low enough that it’s barely even audible. he’s careful, about this kind of thing. there’s a delicacy to the ill intent, something he’d be a little enamored with if it weren’t for the compass stuffed into his ribs — the compass that tells him this is wrong.

he just can’t bring himself to care.

”the upcoming exam.” his voice sends a shiver down the man’s spine. satoru can feel it. ”don’t fail a single student.”

silence. pure silence, suffocating them, tangling itself into the air. satoru can practically taste it — fear, familiar, that pang of panic. a ticking time-bomb. the knife stays pressed against warm skin, pushing, sinking, just a little, a drop of red against his pale throat. 

it’s enough to get your professor to make a little noise, one that vaguely resembles a whine. like that of a small animal, rolling over on its belly, eager to play dead. no word is spoken in reply, but he nods, just barely, a nervous tremble of his head.

satoru hums, approving. ”good.” he doesn’t loosen his grip. ”there’s a particular student i’m worried about. marked them down in the catalogue... i’m counting on you.”

another noise. a grunt of affirmation, a silent plea — satoru allows that fear to seep into his own bones, just a little, just to get a taste of it. cold on his tongue. he wonders if this is what helplessness feels like.

then he takes a step back. slow, tentative, dragging the knife with him. not before parting his lips once more. ”don’t turn around,” he warns. ”i’ll be back if there are any complications. this’ll be our little secret, hm?”

the man in front of him doesn’t say a thing. frozen in fear, paralyzed, not moving an inch. a fly trapped in his web. it’s a relief.

before he exits the room, satoru puts the final nail in the coffin. just in case. ”i happen to know what school your daughter goes to.” he waits for a flinch, and it comes almost instantly. like clockwork. “remember that.”

it’s an empty threat. your professor doesn’t know that, though. he doesn’t know that satoru knows his daughter, that he walks past her preschool almost every morning on his way to work. that she waves to him whenever he passes by, and that he makes it a point to always wave back. a little troublemaker; the rowdiest of utahime’s preschoolers. she has a bubbly laugh, and just lost one of her milk teeth. she was giddy when she showed him, a bout of giggles spilling from her lips as he cooed and ruffled her hair. 

he wouldn’t lay a finger on her. 

but your professor doesn’t know that, hasn’t got a single clue, and satoru delights in the fear that must be running through his veins. down his spine, crawling into every narrow of his skeleton, making a home for itself that he’ll never quite be able to root out.

a gulp. satoru hears it, in the quiet of nightfall, just before he shuts the door behind him. good.

the rest of the evening is a blur. satoru gets home, relieved to find you still asleep, and tucks you into his chest. makes a mental reminder to order your favorite take out tomorrow; a little reward for your hard work.

finally, he can sleep easy. knowing you’ll get what you deserve. 

three weeks later, satoru places his hand on the familiar doorknob in front of him, dragging his weight behind him. blinking sluggishly. 

there’s a sinking feeling in his chest, weighing him down — like an anchor tied to his liver. a compass, tucked between his fourth and fifth rib, one that’ll always stay lodged right there. he’s learned to grow used to it, a natural consequence, a sign that his humanity is still intact. 

that doesn’t make it any less bothersome, though.

(ridding the world of a pest shouldn’t make him feel dirty. especially when he felt nothing but contempt for the pest in question, for the way he whistled as you walked by, the words he spewed before satoru met his eye. vile. putrid. why should he feel guilty for wiping a stain off the pavement?

it does make him feel dirty, though. a sinking feeling in his chest.)

there’s nothing to be done about it. satoru swallows the unpleasant taste on his tongue, and drags the door open, closing it behind him with a softness he reserves for you alone.

and there you are.

on the couch, farther away, already looking his way — lips instantly curling up into what he knows will be a smile. this time, it’s laced with excitement. one of his personal favorites. his gaze devours the joy in your features, the glimpse he gets of your teeth, that familiar crinkle of your eyes. 

you’re smiling. at him. you smile and his world wakes up, it’s dyed in different shades of blue, it’s brimming with life and love and something too good not to kill for. you smile and everything is right, good, worth it. you smile and it's as if the blood has been washed off his hands.

suddenly, all is well again. satoru exhales a blissful little breath.

“‘m home, honey,” he grins, a light pink dusting his cheeks, hanging his coat up before turning to face you. arms wide open. “did you miss me?”

his heartbeat stutters when you practically engulf him, all giddy giggles and that perfect smile, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “mhm,” is what you chirp, pressing kisses down his collarbone, and he has to bite down on his lip to stop the shivers trailing down his spine. he tastes iron, but laps it up with a coo. sickly-sweet.

“missed you too, precious,” he purrs. “sorry i was gone for so long — had to take care of something.” 

he cups the back of your skull with his palm, large and crafted just to hold you, and marvels at how much you trust him. how you’re melting into his chest, fitting into every crevice of his heart. he wants to keep you there forever. forever and ever, always within reach, always close enough to touch. 

but he also wants you to be happy. he wants to see you run away, wherever the wind takes you, if only so he’ll get to feel you jump into his arms again, when you’ve had your fill of the world. when you come home to him, where you both belong.

satoru would never cage you. never, never, never. he wants you to enjoy your life — confining you wouldn’t do any good, would only stifle that pretty smile he loves so dearly. he wants your world to be large, brimming with life, blooming with fervor, wants the air to be clear enough for your beautiful lungs. he couldn’t build a world for you, here, in this apartment. no matter how big or luxurious. 

so his only option is to bend the world into a kinder shape — twist and mold until it forms a path good enough for you to follow.

(it’s worth it, he knows, he’ll always know. it’s worth it to see that smile.)

“is that a new coat?” you ask, naive and innocent, and it breaks him out of his thoughts, attention wired to the lilt of your voice.

“yeah.” it’s stylish, expensive, a nice shade of black. he had to throw the last one away. “looks nice, right? i’ll get you the same one, pretty.”

“you don’t have to, toru!” you hurriedly exclaim, knowing he’ll jump at the opportunity to spoil you. “i like the one i have now!”

satoru pouts. a soft huff, right by your ear. “you don’t wanna wear matching coats?” he feigns sadness, scratching softly at your scalp, drinking up the little purrs that bubble up in your throat. 

and you giggle. you giggle and all he can think is worth it, worth it, worth it. a stained coat or two means nothing. the blood on his hands is just insurance. 

“well, when you put it like that…” you shift a little, curling your arms around his neck, breathing him in. he wonders if you can smell the cleaning detergent. “i guess i wouldn’t mind a new coat.”

and he grins. “right? want me to buy you new shoes while i’m at it? some jewelry?” he peppers kisses down your neck, amusement laced in his voice. “the whole store?”

again, those giggles. again and again. he laps them up like fine wine. “okay, that’s too much.”

“but you deserve it!” he whines, sickeningly sweet. sick to his stomach with love. “been working so hard, my angel.”

and, suddenly — you light up. his little firefly. brightening, inhaling a giddy breath. pulling away, a little, and he does his best to bite back the frown on his face. you’re practically beaming, sunshine personified, eyes glittering with giddy joy.

“right! i almost forgot!” 

then you’re skipping away, happily, to retrieve your phone. and he knows what you’re going to show him, but still feigns surprise when he sees the score on your exam, that perfect 100 on the screen. still makes an expression of shock that he knows will get you to laugh, still picks you up and spins you around and tells you how proud he is.

he almost, almost feels bad, seeing you smile so wide; at what you assume to be the fruits of your own labour. almost feels ashamed, knowing that perfect 100 wouldn’t exist without the knife at your professor’s throat.

but, then again, this is how it should be. those numbers are the fruits of your own labour, because satoru is a part of you. and you deserve it, deserve it more than anyone — he knows you would have gotten it, even without his help, if your professor was competent enough to see your brilliance. 

satoru smiles. he is proud of you. and this is exactly how it should be. he’s just bending the world into its rightful shape, cutting strings from a wrongly woven web, righting the wrongs of the people around you.

you, you, you. the only thing that exists.

all of him is for you.

”i knew you could do it. never doubted you for a second, baby,” he smiles, so wide his cheeks hurt, and you return it with a kiss to his jaw. 

”thank you. i’m just so relieved,” you exhale a breath, heavy, and it’s like he can practically see the stress melting from your shoulders and eyes. worth it, worth it, worth it. ”gosh. i’m gonna sleep like the dead tonight.”

”as you should,” satoru chirps, pinching your side. softly, brimming with fondness. ”but before that, we’re gonna celebrate. all day. and tomorrow too!”

another smile coaxed from your lips; this time, it’s a little bit shy. bashful, at the praise, his endless excitement. so precious he wants to kiss you breathless. give you all the air in his lungs.

so precious that he forgets about everything else. 

this is what you always do to him; wrap him up in a blanket of your love, cloud his veins with a nectar so sweet he takes the leap into your arms without a second thought. a foolish, lovesick butterfly, sticking to a single rose; dripping with honey, overflowing. the butterfly is too drunk on love to care. 

you’re his flower, his joy, the most useful form of anesthesia. with you in his veins, on his mind, your lips on his jaw — satoru can pretend that his hands are clean. that they always have been.

it all slips from his mind. your professor, the creep who catcalled you yesterday, that one classmate you’ve been complaining about recently. he forgets that they even exists, and satoru thinks that must be what love is: something that narrows your world down until you can make a home out of it. 

(something worth holding onto, no matter the cost.)

as always, it’s your voice that snaps him out of the trance he’s in. turning around at the sound of your call, the orpheus to your eurydice, too in love to save you from himself. you’re both getting ready to head out, dressing up for a well-deserved date. 

satoru feels himself smile. he does the dirty work, and you get to reap the rewards. heaven on earth.

“oh, by the way! would you want to have dinner with my parents tomorrow?” you meet his absent gaze with a tilt of your head. “they’ve been asking about you again. it’s such a headache, seriously.”

satoru giggles, barely containing how delighted he is. raising a playful brow. “oh? grumpy that you aren’t the favorite child anymore, hm?”

“okay, first of all —“ you stifle a giggle, pulling a drawer open, rummaging through it. freshly washed clothes. he washes most of your things. “you aren’t their child. and second of all —“

“— yet.”

a pause. 

satoru watches your gaze flick over to him, then back to the drawer, collecting yourself. a cute flush to your cheeks. “… whatever.” you clear your throat. “second of all — i don’t like how much they like you. what kinda spell did you put them under? it’s always satoru this, satoru that!”

a huff fills the air, and you mutter something that sounds a little like mocking, an obnoxiously imitated where’s satoru? that makes him chuckle into his fist. 

he shrugs. “i’m just a natural charmer, y’know? and, for the record; i would love to have dinner with them.” he sends you a wink, playful, and you roll your eyes. “are you joining us?”

a bout of laughter pushes past your lips, and satoru thinks he could die happy — just soaking up the joy that spills from out your throat. he wishes he could live in it, paint your house in it, wear it. he wants your joy to be all he ever feels. he feels sick at the idea of ever being out of earshot for it.

“yes, i’m joining you.” your scoff is dripping with humour. ”i’d hate to be the fourth wheel, but it is what it is.”

satoru stifles a grin. ”lucky me. three beauties all to myself,” he drawls, a seductive lilt to his voice, just to hear that little noise you always make with the back of your throat. vaguely disgusted.

”you’re so gross.”

a coo. like the buzzing of a bee. ”don’t be jealous, honey. know you’re my favorite, don’t you?” satoru smiles — more sincere than you’ll ever know. ”could never love anyone else.”

”so my parents are in second place?” you quirk a brow, amusement lacing your words, and he clicks his tongue. 

”well, they made you. i’d have to be a fool not to worship artists of such caliber.” 

”charmer.”

”yours.” the word is a knife at his throat, a stain on his coat, a love so heavy it’ll burn him alive. ”only yours.”

and again, you smile. all he can think is that you deserve everything, everything he could ever give you. it’s all he can think as you go about your day, as he leads you outside, as he watches that flicker of joy dance inside your iris. as he watches you walk wherever your heart takes you.

the thought remains when you return home, when you wrap yourselves up in blankets and he throws a leg over your waist and you curl an arm around his ribcage. it’s all he can think. 

satoru was born to be of service — to someone, to the world, to something or another. he was born to carry a weight on his back, so why not bear the weight of your burdens?

all he wants is to protect you. all he’ll ever need is that smile on your face. he was always bound to be just this: a dog at your heels, a halo around your head, the watchful eye keeping you safe from everything rotten in this world. he’s the butterfly, the spider, the web itself. and he’ll never let you be tangled up in it.

he was born to be of service to you. so service you he will, until it all comes back to bite him.

“satoruuu — stop stealing the blanket!”

he prays it never will.

[yuwuta]

olympics coming up…… athlete aus on the mind….. satoru as a swimmer….. unreasonably large wingspan…. huge hands..... thinks “official” competitions and tournaments are boring because he can’t use the goofy purple googly eyes goggles he likes to practice in…… practices at ungodly hours solely because he likes when the pool is empty because that means you’ll dip your feet in at the edge and be there to greet him with a kiss when he’s finished his laps….. they bring up the stats board and it’s just his name ten times before the next fastest person and he could still lap them, and even tho he’ll always put so much pressure on himself to be the best, it’s worth it to have you hold his face and tell him you’re proud of him... he’s gotten so much merch from events and sponsorships and he used to think they just created clutter but that all changes when you start to wear his clothes (esp the ones with his name on it… he’s not proud to admit that does Something to him)…. always looks up to the stands when he finishes a race and if he knows you’re not there, he looks right at the camera, draws an infinity sign with his fingers, and blows a kiss (which, some commentators routinely call “unsportsmanlike conduct” but he doesn’t care, and always, publicly says he’ll pay the fees if it means blowing a kiss to his girl at home)

[megumiluvv]

When Uncle Sukuna visits again, you open your door at lunch time to an upset Yuji, an adorable angry expression on his tiny little face.

“Hiya, Yuji, what’s up?” You laugh a little and let the kid into your apartment.

“I’m hungry but I don’t want my uncle’s cooking… he burns everything and doesn’t know how to cook how I like.”

“Oh, you want my cooking?”

“Yeah…”

You smile and sit Yuji down in your couch and turn on his cartoons while you cook his favorite lunchtime meal.

As you’re cooking, Sukuna walks into your apartment, looking at you and smirking.

“You’re like a housewife, are you sure you and that nephew of mine aren’t together?”

“Uncle! You have to knock!” Yuji frowns at the sight of Sukuna.

“Don’t tell me what to do, brat.”

Yuji pokes his tongue out at his uncle and hides between your legs as Sukuna scowls at the kid. You just laugh and shake your head as you finish cooking for Yuji and give him the food. Yuji eats as Sukuna talks with you.

“You never answered my question.”

“Choso and I are just friends.”

“Really? Because I see how-”

“Uncle! When is my big brother coming home?”

Sukuna scowls when he can’t keep teasing you about Choso.

“He should be back for his lunch break soon, brat.”

As if on cue, almost like always, Choso enters your apartment with a soft knock on your door.

“No one was in my apartment, I almost thought Sukuna ran away with Yuji.”

“Choso!” Yuji smiles and runs to his big brother.

Choso smiles to you and sits Yuji back at the table.

“Did he run here because of Sukuna’s cooking?”

“I’m right here, you know.”

Choso laughs and smiles to you as he looks at his uncle.

“You should keep a better eye on Yuji, uncle.”

“Not my fault the brat is too small to see.”

“I’m not a brat!” Yuji frowns at Sukuna and stuffs his face with food.

Sukuna rolls his eyes and goes to Choso’s apartment while complaining under his breath. Choso chuckles and looks at you as you wipe sauce off of Yuji’s chin. He notices you still have his shirt from the other day and he feels a little flutter in his chest at the thought of you wearing it around your apartment.

“Yuji’s grown to be a little picky.”

“Nah, I cook all kinds of stuff for him.” You smile.

“I guess he’s more picky over the cook. He tells me he only likes your cooking and my cooking.”;

“Oh really?” You smile and ruffle the boy’s hair.

Yuji huffs and moves your hands away as he eats. Choso laughs and makes himself a plate of the food you made, hoping his uncle hasn’t burnt down his house.

Masterlist

[sillygoofyqueer]

Silly fic idea for you:

SVSSS AU where Shen Yuan transmigrates as a half-human half-crow-demon Phantom thief character.

He doesn’t want to steal from Bing-ge, but his System makes him, and naturally Bing-ge ends up obsessed. Bing-ge keeps luring him into traps with shiny things he just can’t help but want!!! Stupid crow impulses. (That he kinda wants to see Binghe again is irrelevant, obviously).

This is SUPER silly. Anon, this is so funny, I feel like I simply have to write this now oh my god. The idea that Bing-ge is confused at first, and he then sees this super handsome half bird-half human-demon thing and is like "man I need to get me more shiny things, I want to keep this fucker". ALSO, (I've heard that) crows are quite intelligent and start leaving presents as a response to getting fed or being given shiny things, so it could also be something where Shen Yuan starts having the urge to give Bing-ge things back after receiving all these shiny things (better if he doesn't recognise most of the traps as traps, mistaking Bing-ge for being a generous demon who doesn't need all of the shiny stuff he takes) and starts giving him shit like rocks and plants and the cool parts of beasts he fights... It also can be silly no matter when in the timeline this happens - it could be during the QJ peak arc where Shen Yuan sneaks around because he wants to see the awesome protagonist up close! The first time he steals something from Bing-ge, it's something super dumb like a particularly shiny rock or a coin that the boy left lying around, and Bing-ge's quickly like "??? The fuck just happened?" so he sets up a trap with the axe he uses for chopping wood (kind of rusty but still useable and particularly shiny). After that, it's chaos of trying to keep Shen Yuan the demon hidden while also stopping him from stealing other shiny things (cultivator's swords and such). Liu Qingge finds Shen Yuan trying to steal one of the swords he was gifted after saving a village and is also like "??? Kill?" It can also be after the Endless Abyss, when Bing-ge is like a demon lord and just has shiny stuff lying around. He throws it out occasionally and one day, while doing this, he notices a certain person swooping in and grabbing one of the shiny things. More antics ensue but I don't want to crash my laptop lmao (Which one would you rather me do, anon? Before the Endless Abyss, or after? Or both??) {part one! Part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven!} [This gorgeous fanart from @slurmdog that's making me go insane here] [More awe inducing fanart from @moonlightobsessions that has made me pass out here]

[idiotmf]

Moving into a house infested by shadow demons

I may have this recent obsession with my newest creation for random blurbs I write, but... hear me out while I dump random information on you that you didn't ask for... (also NSFW, minors scram)

Shadow demons are beings made of, well, shadows. They can hide in yours or manifest as anything they want, shape-shifters if you will.

Since they are beings made of shadows, they cannot catch light, therefore they are a little hard to make out, often appearing more as a silhouette but they do have very distinctive, glowing eyes.

Very original, I know.

Now... They infest houses, apartments or just general areas. They're typically regarded as low level demons, as they are bound to the area they infest, feeding off of human emotions; specifically strong emotions like fear, hopelessness and, most importantly, lust.

I currently have two shadow demons that I adore writing about and they are... Well, I feel like they would hate each other.

× Aryllus

Aryllus is a sweetheart. He isn't interested in feeding off of emotions. He finds life fascinating, he loves spending his endless time reading, observing the animals and humans outside this old brick cottage that he can't leave.

He's very blunt and emotionally not the most intelligent but he makes up for it with his academic intellect. He's been trapped here for a century, maybe two. He doesn't know. Time is of no concept to demons, after all.

He's also shy at first. He doesn't want to be discovered by humans. He dislikes being treated like a pest or an inconvenience, so he would rather starve for all eternity than be viewed as a monster.

When you do discover him, and you don't seem afraid of him, he rejoices. He's patient and gentle in every interaction, thinking he has no morals as a demon but very clearly being a kind entity.

But... be careful, even if a shadow demon's primary food is emotions, Aryllus will probably steal your sandwich. And then try to eat the plastic it came in. (-_-')

And then there is...

× Oryllion

Oryllion is heartless, manipulative and possessive. His only interest lies in breaking the inhabitants of his infested house, making them his mindless little toys for his insatiable hunger.

His preferred method is keeping you in a constant state of arousal by any means necessary. You're working on something? Too bad, he's eating you out/ sucking you off under the table. You want to leave? No, he's tying you up with his tendrils and attaching little suckers to your nipples until you scream in agony and pleasure.

He's dominant and degrading, never once uttering your name. You're merely his pet or his toy. His eyes, while nothing more than glowing white orbs, show disgust with you. Even while he shapes his body into the most incomprehensible shape, writhing with obscene appendages and a sheer endless amount of limbs just to force you to orgasm for his next feast, he clearly looks down on you. Humiliation is a part of the fun for him.

But... As much as he wishes, even Oryllion can't fuck everyone into submission. Occasionally, families will move into his domain, much to his dismay.

But hey, at least he gets to traumatize children with his SFW Eldritch horror shapes for a quick snack.

[togament]

Thinking about Ume and him fucking your insecurities away.

He gets it. You’re only human, after all. We all got our demons and some days they scream a little louder than they usually do—so you come to your boyfriend for some advice and much needed comfort.

Both of which he is very much willing to provide.

But what was once an innocent cuddle on your sofa with him pressing gentle kisses and assurances into your skin has evolved into him fucking himself into you slowly, heavily breathing into the space between your neck, both bodies tangled in a lotus position. He’s taking his time exploring every inch of your body with his hands with so much adoration and care with each caress.

Intimate.

“Fgh—I-I’m so lucky t’have you, beautiful,” he grunts with his forehead pressed against yours, staring into your eyes with such reverence you feel yourself melting a little. His strong hands gripping your hips securely, bouncing you onto his thick, throbbing length. Unhurried. Reassuring, even. “Breathtaking. Absolutely-haah! Fuckin’ perfect—“, he breathes, pulling back to look at you properly. God he’s falling for you all over again. “Can’t believe I-I get t’worship ya. What a goddess.”

But before you retort, before you tell him he isn’t right, before you argue with his cock buried deep inside you, he presses his lips onto yours with his tongue dancing against yours, thrusting up into you harder, faster. His hold on your hips ever steady.

Ume has occupied all of your senses. So much so that you’ve forgotten what you were about to say.

He’s gonna make it his life’s mission to make love to you until you forget your insecurities.

Until you finally see what he sees in you.

To make you feel beautiful in your own skin again.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

[general-dweebous]

concept: Gale Dekarios abruptly kissing you as a way to “blend in” / hide your faces from Bad Guys™️ passing by

follow up concept: he blushes and stutters an apology as he goes to explain but you hush him by saying “just to be safe…” before pulling him back down to you and kissing him again

bonus content: he holds your face in his hands and the two of you are just full on making out now

more bonus content: someone from the group comes up trying to say the coast is clear, and Gale frantically waves his arm at them as if to shoo them away without ever breaking the kiss

[galactaknightyaoi]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, GALACTA KNIGHT!!!! And congratulations to Meta Knight for experiencing the Cain Instinct for the first time.

Galacta Knight, as you might've been able to tell already, is one of my favorite characters, and KSSU is one of my favorite games (the original SS was my introduction to Kirby!) so I wanted to go all out. Happy day, old man. I pray for at least 20 more years.

Oh, and don't worry! He's not upset about the cake smash, he thinks it's funny. And he got back at him.

As for the in-universe explanation for there being 16 candles in his cake?

... 500+ didn't fit in safely.

The birthday boy and his family were just a bit too flammable.

[demigods-posts]

say what you want but annabeth is 100% the big spoon. and it definitely stems from the fact that everything she loves seems to leave her in some way. at least it feels like that for a long time. but cradling percy reassures her that's he's here and here to stay.

[cupcakeinat0r]

Your loser, Middle-aged Genetics professor with a dadbod <3

pt. 6

The semester is almost over, and finals are just around the corner. Miguel and you had been tutoring students for test prep. Your help was greatly appreciated by Miguel, cutting his work basically in half, and he sees that you were good at it, too. It seems that paying attention in his class the whole year paid off. Granted, Miguel was fine as hell, so you never wanted to miss class.

You had to be honest, though, when you volunteered yourself to be Miguel’s little TA, you didn’t think it’d be this difficult. Is this what Miguel went through? For five years? Damn. Poor baby probably hasn’t had a good night’s sleep since he started this job. You didn’t know how he did it, and it’s only been your third day of tutoring. 

Not to mention that some students were, and you hate to admit it… incompetent. There were moments where you had to refrain from making certain faces toward students who acted like they hadn’t been to a single class of Miguel’s. But because you were so kind and patient, you sat with those few and made sure they left that hour feeling prepared for their final. Now you understood why Miguel’s temper was a bit short. Yours would be too if you had to deal with students who never put in any effort. Of course, some classmates also knew as much as you did, only needing the sessions for review.

Aside from tutoring, you and Miguel’s relationship was evolving. Your heated kiss in the lecture hall has been on Miguel’s mind non-stop, replaying the scene over and over again as a bedtime story for the past week. He couldn’t believe that his dreams were coming true. You had him whipped. That one kiss was what broke the dam, and now, Miguel was unleashing kisses on you. He’d sneak one in at every opportunity he had. Every little interaction would go something like this:

Say you were on your way to a session with a classmate, it’s early in the morning, the hall is empty, and no one is around other than Miguel who you consequently pass by as he leaves his private office. The scowl on his face immediately softens when he sees you, all done up pretty like always.

“Good morning, beautiful.” He still sounds as if he’s just woken up, his velvety timbre filling the quiet hall. It felt like you were Juliet and he was Romeo, forbidden lovers meeting in secret.

“Oh! Professor O’Hara-“A small squeal leaves your lips when he pulls you into his embrace, his brawny arms enveloping you completely. You giggle into his chest, your hands snaking up his soft belly and around toward his back, where they almost touch. “Calmate, mama, no one’s around,” he whispers into your hair, pressing a sweet kiss there. You breathe in and smell a manly musk from the fabric of his turtleneck. You had to lift your head from his chest or else Miguel would not stop kissing you all over. It was like there was no ‘off’ button, there was only ‘on’ when it came to you,

“Miguel, I’m already running late, they’re waiting for me!” You loudly whisper, only half-trying to push him away since he felt so warm and soft, but you really did need to go.

“Lo siento, mamita, but how can I resist when you look like this? Can you blame a guy?” He steps back and raises your hand to twirl you like a princess. You smiled bashfully, your cheeks going red. He was so corny and he knew it, slightly cringing at his own effort to be “cool”. It made you laugh because he would NEVER act this way in front of anyone. Anyone except you. He smiled, laughed, and made cheesy remarks only for you. God, you needed this grumpy dork. 

“Migggg, stop it, I really need to go!” You softly laugh, covering your cheesy smile.

“Nunca, preciosa,” His voice is low when he pulls you back in, “But alright… for now. how ‘bout a kiss before you go?” and with a smile, you get on your tip toes, and Miguel lifts you into a tender kiss, and when he kisses you, he breathes you in. It’s like you’re his life supply when he kisses you.

Just when you thought the kiss was over and you were about to be on your way, he didn’t let go of your hand. You look back, and you’re met with those damned puppy dog eyes, “Wait, one more? Please?” He was so pathetic, but how could you tell him no? Of course, you wouldn’t, so you come back and give him another deep kiss.

Once you two pull away, his forehead remains on yours and he whispers, “Otra mas? Porfa?” He coos. “I thought you said one more?” You teased his adorable pleading, but you took his chin with both hands and kissed him anyway. 

Two more kisses turned to three, four, five, six… and Miguel wouldn’t stop; “One more?”, “Okay, now one more.”, “Another one.”, “Otro besito…”, “no, not yet, one more, one more”, “mkay, last one.”, “wait wait wait, one more…” and the two of you broke into soft laughs as he kept asking for more kisses, you slowly trying to pull away as you were passed late now. With each step back you took, Miguel would step closer, keeping your body against his with his bulky arms. The once silent hallway was now filled with quiet, giddy laughter as Miguel attacked you with pecks. There was something so innocent about it all, the harmony between your high-pitched giggles and his low chuckles, accompanied by the continuous smacking of his lips on yours in a peaceful, early morning within the high-ceiling school walls.

“Miguel O’Hara, please!” You snap at him, still in a whisper, but you both just laugh. “Okay, okay, fine,” he finally lets go of you, watching you leave with a content smile,” I’ll see you later? Don’t leave without passing by, please,” you smile back at the buff nerd and his concern for you. “I will! I promise!” You scurry down the hall to meet with the student who’s probably wondering where you’ve been. Miguel doesn’t step back into his office until you’re out of sight, his mind still a little foggy from the interaction. 

If someone had told him at the beginning of the year that the grad student who always showed up in the cutest outfits, sat front row, and always gave him the prettiest, lip glossed smile would requite his feelings, he would laugh at their face (or simply just stare menacingly at them, more like). When he chose to settle down and take this job, he would’ve never thought he’d find you. You were that something he didn’t know he needed.

<3 

    You might’ve bitten off more than you can chew. By fault of your sweet nature, you decided to take in a few extra students, which left you in the library hours later, your forehead on your forearm, a bit of drool pooling on the table, and snoring.  Miguel had been doing some tutoring as well, though, he finished earlier than you and started doing some other collegiate duties. It was unknown to him that you did this, so he thought it was strange when you didn’t come by for that long. He knew you wouldn’t have left without saying anything, so he began to grow worried as hours went by. He made his way down to the lecture hall, but there was no sign of you there. He immediately started thinking the worst, a million different horrid explanations running through his mind as he picked up his pace through the hallway.

His heart eased when he saw your sleeping form in the library, the only light coming from the aged lamps on each of the tables, but the relief is short-lived once he realizes how long you’ve been working and how tired you must’ve been to fall asleep sitting like that. Making sure to be quiet as there were still two or three other students there, Miguel walked towards you, faintly smiling at your snoring.  

“Mama… Mamita…” he whispers, nudging your back gently, waking you up. Your eyes, blinking continuously, adjust to the dim lighting of the library and you make out the large figure beside you. It’s your sweet, darling professor.

“Mph… huh?” you stretch your arms above your head, letting out a yawn, “Oh my God, sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep,” you say with a tired chuckle, your eyes still adjusting. 

“Mama, what are you apologizing for? Ugh, I should’ve come to check on you sooner.” He sat beside you, but then one of the students quickly hushed him, giving him a dirty look for interrupting their study sesh. He raised his hand mouthing ‘sorry’.  

"Did you need something?" you softly asked him, not wanting to be hushed as well, and he just replied by intertwining his long, girthy fingers with yours under the table where no one could see. "Nothing, mamita, however, I need you to go home. You weren’t supposed to stay so late.” He tuts, his thumb rubbing over your knuckles like he always did. He already didn’t like that you were tutoring on top of your own schoolwork, the only reason why he let you help in the first place being that you wouldn’t take no for an answer.

“Oh, Miguel, always worrying about everyone but yourse-” You were cut off by another hush by the same irritated student. You both looked back at them, Miguel looking back with a scowl this time. He looked like he was about to say something, but you pulled away his attention with a sheepish smile, “Maybe we should go talk somewhere else.” You whisper. Taking your advice, he stood with you and followed you to a more private section of the library.

Settling in a small nook area where the two of you are surrounded by shelves of books, you sat on the floor, Miguel following shortly after. “So, care to explain why you’re still here?” He speaks while finding a comfortable position. 

You both lay against the shelf, your head tilted upward as you respond, “I just figured I could help a couple more students, is all. I guess it was after I finished with the last student and started studying for my other classes was when I knocked out.” Miguel lifts his arm so that he can wrap it around you, offering a cushion between you and the hardwood of the shelves. 

“Do you ever not study?” he raises a brow, but you’re quick to retaliate, “Do you ever not work?” You both chuckle. “Touché.”

“How do you do it?” you ask. 

“What do you mean?” You lay your head on his shoulder. “You basically run this entire department on your own. All I’ve done was tutor for a couple of days and look where that got me.”  Miguel chuckles at this. “I know sometimes it may not seem like it, but in all honesty, I love what I do, and you’ve gotta give yourself more credit than that, mama. You’ve truly been amazing, sweetheart. Always have been.”

“Well,” you snuggle into him a little more, relishing in his natural warmth that rivals the library’s cold air, “You helped.” Miguel returns the gesture by wrapping his arm tighter around you, sensing that you are becoming cold. “We helped each other, how ‘bout that.” you look up and smile at him, your cheek against the soft fabric of his cable-knit sweater (that fits juuust right on him). 

“Speaking of which, what’s this class you’re studying for?” you sit up straight and let out a tired sigh. “It’s another lecture,” you grab a hefty textbook from your bag beside you, letting Miguel take a look at it, “On top of creating a thesis, I have to memorize all of this.” He looks through his glasses that are hanging low on his nose and skims over the material.  

“How much of this have you memorized?” he still looks at the pages. “About half maybe.”

“Let’s fix that.” he sat up straight, positioning the book to where you can’t see its contents. “What’re you doing?” you’re suspicious of Miguel, knowing very well that he should be going home and not staying to help you study for a class that he didn’t even teach.

“I’m helping,” he clears his throat, “Which years did the ‘Modernist’ era in English literature begin and end? Please provide a short explanation of what catalyzed this period-” You ignore his question, attempting to take the book. “Miguel, you’ve done enough for today, you should be going home!” but he doesn’t let you have it.

“Mama, I just found you dead asleep while sitting up. You were gonna stay either way. I’d much rather be here so you don’t pass out again n’ make sure you get home safe. Please?” 

He’s literally the most perfect man ever. The person currently sitting in front of you just left his office doing whatever important task he usually occupies himself with to check up on you and is willing to stay here until you feel ready for your final. You’re convinced he’d do anything for you, and you’re right in thinking so. 

“Fine,” You’re beginning to realize how hard it actually is to say ‘no’ to Miguel, but you know Miguel was a bit of a pushover when it came to you as well, so you guess it’s alright, “But I feel like there should be some sort of incentive, though… some motivation.” you cheekily smile.

Miguel’s eyes shift above his lenses, intrigued by your proposition. “How ‘bout this. Every time I get something wrong… you get a kiss.” He chuckles. “Alright, and I’m guessing if you get it correct, then I should reward you with a kiss, right?” he says matter-of-factly, making you smile again. You were hoping he’d suggest something like this. 

He’d ask a question, you’d answer, and depending on if you got it right, Miguel would give you a kiss, or if you got it wrong, you “had” to give him a kiss (not much of a punishment, to be frank). You didn’t even wait for him to finish asking you a test question at times, you would just give him a tender kiss on the cheek just because. Some kisses, though, Miguel would get distracted, taking it from an innocent peck to a heated, handsy kiss, and reluctantly, you’d get him back on the task at hand. It got to the point where you ended up seated between his legs, and you'd start getting all these answers correct, so Miguel would plant kisses on your neck, sucking on the skin there. They would surely leave hickeys for the next day, but you didn’t care.

With your back against his hard chest and tummy, it was very hard to not delve into both of your fantasies. It was when Miguel began faintly bucking his hips against yours, his hardness expanding as he got blinded by lust again. "Miguel! Not here!” you'd whisper, and Miguel would groan in defeat. Trust, if you two weren’t in public, you would’ve let him do anything and everything he was thinking about doing to you.

That, having to stay quiet, and making sure no one was coming, it all made it feel like you were both teenagers again who were out later than they should be, laughing and shushing each other. 

The incentive being kisses actually worked in the sense that it kept you up, so not only was it an excuse to make out in the library, but it did technically help you memorize…

An hour or so passes by and you’ve gotten to the point where you know everything you need to for your final, but you didn’t want your time with Miguel to quite just end yet. You don’t know if it was the making out or what but you were suddenly wide awake now.

Miguel is about to test you on a topic one more time when he sees your eyes wandering the shelves, “You like to read, Mig? Just curious.” You look up at him. You were too tired to care whether or not you looked presentable enough for him, but he thought you looked absolutely adorable like this. Your hair lost its volume, your lip gloss was no longer shiny, and your mascara was a bit smudged from when you fell asleep earlier, but he found it so endearing. He wouldn’t have minded waking up to the sight every day for the rest of his life.

He closes the textbook, taking this as your way of ending the study session, “Yeah, I like it. I’ll read recreationally when I have the time.” He chuckled, looking at you like you were the only source of light on the planet. You shifted your head from where it rested against his arm and laid down on the floor, your head now resting against his soft stomach like a pillow. Your gaze focused on his hand that was now in yours. Your soft touch brushes against his more calloused, warm skin, playing with his fingers as you speak.

“What do you like to read? Fiction? Non-fiction? Give me details.” You continue to fiddle with his fingers. 

He starts to play with your hair with his free hand, moving any on your face, “Hm… I tend to gravitate toward non-fiction. You?"

"Anything romantic for sure," it doesn't take you even a second to answer, "Ever since I was a little girl, I always envisioned myself in those fairytale stories. Princesses, royal balls, a prince charming..." your eyes glanced up at him when you mentioned princes, and his smile grew.

"Oh, yeah?" He smirked, his brow raised. "Mhm. I kinda feel like I’m in one right now, actually.” His cheeks darken at this, licking his lips as he looks away to hide them. “Has anyone ever told you how handsome your smile is?” You add on, making him melt furthermore. He honestly can’t believe you’re saying all this about him. Miguel was usually the man that always knew what to say, but romance? Not his field of expertise, and much less when it came to you.

“Not really, no. Don’t show it much these days.” He looks back down at you, completely smitten by the angel currently lying in his lap.

“Well you should do it more often, it looks nice on you.” You’re not sure what came over you. It was so easy to praise him and watch him become goo from your words and touch.

“Then maybe I should spend more time with you.” Now it was your turn to be bashful. “I make you smile, huh?”

“Quite frequently in fact. It’s ruining my reputation, making me go soft.” You chuckle along with him. “Just face it, you’re my big, scary teddy bear.” Miguel’s heart skips when you say ‘my’. As much as his past self would’ve hated being called that, he loved the possessiveness in it. He was truly yours, since the beginning. “Only if you’ll be the princess I protect.” You smile like an idiot. You hated him (you wanted him so bad).

“This actually reminds me of a certain story...” He ponders on a specific story, one that brings old memories. A faint smile grows on his plush lips.

“Oh, yeah? Mystery, sci-fi, romance…?” you say romance with a badly executed French accent, making him chuckle, “Eh… maybe it’s a romance…” He says with a growing smile. 

“Awe, I knew it, ya big softy. Which one?” You two began discussing your favorite romantic books. Turns out Miguel is a bit of a hopeless romantic himself, though, he’d never reveal that to anyone. You feel compelled to get up and search for your favorite book from the shelves surrounding you, which you both end up doing. Once you’ve found y’all’s respective books, you both return to the same position on the floor, but Miguel’s mood makes a shift. There’s a moment when Miguel’s spirit seems to die down, and you catch it. He looks down at the book with somber eyes. He flips through its pages, his brows furrowed and eyes narrow. “You alright, Miguel?” 

Miguel clears his throat. “I’m fine. Um...” He thinks about what he’s about to say and whether he should even share it. There’s a beat between the two of you. 

“What’re you thinking about?” You can see the gears in his head turn. 

“Nada, mamita, I’m fine.” He lies. He looks at you with a weak smile, but his eyes say differently.

“Anything you have to say is important to me.” You give his hand a small squeeze. “Please?” 

He squeezes back your hand and kisses your wrist. Miguel then worked up the courage to share something he hadn’t told anyone in what felt like years. Sure, his two closest coworkers knew about it, but that’s about it. Miguel didn’t have many, if at all, true friends outside of his work, but he felt you could be trusted. He felt that comfortable with you. Your softness tore down his tough walls. 

You learn that he had a daughter. Her name was Gabriella. He mentions how much she loved playing sports, being outside in the park, and how much she loved it when he read to her. The book currently in his hand was what she would pick almost every night. He’d read it in different voices for each character, making the story come alive for his precious little girl. No matter how many times he read it to her, she listened as if it were the first time. Seeing the little smile on her face made all the fatigue from work melt away. That’s why he chose it as his favorite book. 

He lost Gabriella to what he described as an ‘incident’, but you didn’t urge him to say anything more than what he was comfortable with, respecting his boundaries. 

“Sometimes, I’ll come back to this book and it almost feels like she’s here again.” He opens the book to the first page. Its cover and spine were intricate, the title reading ‘Beauty and The Beast’. 

He branched away from the book for a moment and began to go on and on about what Gabriella was like upon your request to know a little more about her, and instantly, his mood lifted. He speaks about her kindness, intelligence, curiosity, and her extensive imagination. He spoke about her favorite foods (sweets, of course) and even the foods she wasn’t a big fan of. He talked about their post-soccer game rituals of getting ice cream and how they would spend their mornings together eating their favorite cereal before school. With the way he spoke about her, a ball started to form in your throat. It was evident that he loved being a dad. You didn't think you could fall for Miguel harder than you already did until now.

Maybe that was why he was so hard on everyone in his class; maybe it was simply the paternal desire to see your pupils do their absolute best and succeed. It made you sad because this meant that not only has Miguel been alone for all these years, but he’s been alone on account of losing someone he loved so dearly. His precious daughter. And to you, that’s even worse.

You wanted to say how sorry you were for his loss, but you figured he’d heard that millions of times. You wanted to say something that actually meant something. 

“Gabriella sounds like a wonderful person,” You say with a small smile. Miguel looks at you, not really expecting a response like that, “And If you were the one raising her, then I know for sure she was absolutely wonderful.” 

“She was. Thank you.” Miguel looks down at you, you both sharing a quiet moment. “She would’ve really liked you.” He says softly, looking down at his lap where you were. His thumb caresses your cheek, making you smile even wider.

“Yeah?” You try to hold back any tears. This had to be the sweetest thing anyone has ever said to you. “Yeah.” 

The moment is so sweet and so soft and it felt so nice to be able to just relish in the small silences with him. And when you spoke, your voices were barely above whispers. “She would’ve thought you were a real-life princess for sure. I know I do.” You blush at this, Miguel’s hand on your face only adding more heat to your rosy cheeks. 

“Well, I think I would’ve really liked her, too. I wish we could’ve met.” You place your hand on top of his. Despite you also feeling saddened by this, there’s still a sense of gentle positivity in your voice.

“Me too.” Miguel’s face softens at your response, scenarios playing in his head. Moments between you and his daughter. What life could’ve been like had his daughter still been here to interrogate you as soon as she had the chance, and then just as quickly become your #1 fan. He’s quiet when he’s thinking about this, and you feel the urge to hug him. 

You sit up from his lap and wrap your arms around his neck, Miguel’s face buried into the crook of your neck. “Thank you for sharing that with me.” You whisper in his ear before kissing his head. You rub his back with your other hand, feeling his breathing deepen.

Miguel lifts his head to look straight at you as if to admire you, “Thanks for listening.” You can’t help but pepper kisses all over his face: forehead, nose, cheeks, eyelids, and Miguel feels like he’s in heaven. At last, he takes your face in both hands and kisses you on the lips. No other dialogue needed, the two of you sit in peaceful silence again, literally just appreciating each other’s existence. The moment is interrupted by the opening of a door in the distance. Surely a night-time guard.

 “Y’know… we can get in an awful lot of trouble if we’re seen together like this.” You break the silence with a whisper. The teenage-like ambiance returns, winning a smirk from Miguel. “I know. I guess I just can’t bring myself to care right now.” His eyes trail all over your face, landing on your lips. He kisses you again, his lips descending to your neck and his hands squeezing the flesh of your butt. Ticklish and breathless, you begin giggling, ‘Miguel!” but he doesn’t stop, “Miguel O’Hara! What if they see us!” you whisper. 

“Mm, like it when you say my full name.” he muffles into your neck. “Miguel!” you laugh again, trying to push him off. “Take me home! We have class tomorrow!” is what finally stops him. He may or may not have let the heat of the moment get the best of him. “Yeah,” He runs his hand through his hair and fixes his glasses, “You’re right, you’re right.” He stands up, offering you a hand. Without making it look suspicious, you both walk past the guard as well as a few students (who were either passed out or too deep in their downward spiral of an all-nighter). 

<3

Miguel drives you home in something you didn’t expect a college professor would be able to afford. He had his hand on your thigh the whole way, but not before he asked if that was okay, to which you happily granted. The entire car ride, Miguel had you smiling, blushing, laughing at his dated jokes. You were so sad when he pulled up to your place, still not wanting the night to end even though you were tired out of your mind. 

“Thank you for taking me home, my knight in shining armor.” You lean over, puckering your lips as you wait for a kiss. “Of course, Princesa, anything for you.” You both share probably the billionth kiss of the day before he speaks again. “See you tomorrow bright n’ early?” you nod, letting out a soft ‘yeah’. “Alright, get some rest, beautiful. And don’t be late.” he playfully enters professor mode for the last sentence, and you play along. “Of course, Professor O’Hara. Wouldn’t dream of it.” 

Miguel kisses you again and bites your lip, the tension rising once again. “Mm, that’s one you haven’t called me in a while.” You giggle from how easy it is for you to excite Miguel, your absolute loser of a professor, but he’s your loser, and that’s all that matters. You feel his hand snake to your inner thigh, his tongue making its way down your throat, “Mm—Don’t get any ideas, mister, you should head home and get your sleep as well.” He lets out a defeated huff, “ay, Mamita, can’t keep doing that t’me…”

As much as you also wanted to be there with him, having him bounce you on his lap or taking it in the backseat, you also didn’t want for Miguel or yourself to miss class the next morning. Miguel agrees, sharing the very last, tender kiss of the night before finally saying goodnight to each other. You close the car door behind you and say one last thing through the window, “We should do this again. It was nice.” Miguel smiles at you, promising you he’ll take you to the public library one of these days. 

In exchange for more kisses, that is. Or perhaps more.

a/n: Haiiiiii, I hope you enjoyed <3 He's so cute n needy ur honor!! He simply just wants to be held!! I have 5k ish words to prove it!!! (So sorry omfg)

Want more Dadbod!Miguel? Here's my masterlist, bae! <3

<3 Tags <3

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[yuwuta]

I HAD TO HAVE THIS TALK WITH YOU, CAUSE I’D HATE TO HAVE TO ACT A FOOL — MEGUMI FUHSIGURO

cw this exists in the same rich kids/boarding school au as this piece, which are slowly forming their own universe, implied (past) drug use/underage drinking, more of megumi being your guard dog everybody cheer

Megumi scowls as yet another phone call goes to voicemail. He’s been standing outside the racetrack for fifteen minutes, watching Yuuji absolutely pummel Aoi in polo, and waiting for you. He huffs, just as Yuuji loudly celebrates another point, thumbing a text to Yuuta, asking if he’s seen you all morning. Yuuji claimed you’d left him all by himself after your shared morning class, Nobara was still in Switzerland, and Tsumiki also seemed to be ignoring his messages. 

He needed answers, and quickly, because this is the free period that Muta and his goons also have free, and he would hate to go back on his promise to stop egging him so soon after you’d asked him so sweetly to knock it off. 

Yuuta (received 12:57pm) — She’s fine, Tsumiki and I are with her. Picnic tables outside of the building 703. — Warning, your least favorite upperclassmen are here too, but don’t make a scene. They’re annoying, but not trouble yet. 

Megumi squints, turning on his heels towards the large building opposite the racetracks. As he rounds the side that opens into a field, formally known as one the many lawns dedicated in the Gojo family’s name, and informally revered as your favorite lunchtime spot, he hears the familiar sound of Tsumiki’s laughter, and the unpleasant squawking of his least favorite upperclassmen. 

Seeing you, Yuuta, and Tsumiki sitting at the picnic bench under the blooming wisteria was business as usual; seeing Hakari and another senior infiltrating the seating arrangement was not. Megumi frowns, strolling up to the table to halt the conversation when he’s noticed by you, and sized up by the upperclassman. 

“Oh, uh—hey, I—good afternoon, Fushiguro!” the other senior has the decency to greet him, stumbling with their overly-chipper tone. Megumi eyes them and blinks. Their face is a familiar shadow to Hakari’s, but he never could recall their name, no matter how many times he had the displeasure of running into the duo.  

“It was,” Megumi drawls. He turns his head to face you again, “You’re late.” 

From this angle, you have to tilt your head up to make eye contact with him. There’s an innocence behind your eyes, genuine warning, weary concern; and still, so beautiful it makes Megumi’s thoughts venture elsewhere—only for a moment; he supposes he should be grateful for Hakari’s presence, just this once, because the interjection of his grating voice pulls Megumi back to reality. 

“Relax, Fushiguro, we were all just talking, having a good time,” Hakari whistles, a dirty grin on his lips, “Ain’t that right, Kirara?” 

Ah, Kirara. That’s their name. Megumi doesn’t have time to mull it over, or pretend to commit it to memory; the majority of his energy is focused on preventing himself from throwing a punch. Briefly, he makes eye-contact with Tsumiki, a silent warning in her eyes to not be violent; so Megumi looks to the other side of the table at Yuuta, whose hollow eyes are apologetic, but cautious. Megumi can tell they’ve both been doing their best to neutralize the conversation before he arrived, without setting off your own alarm bells. 

They’ve been patient, but he won’t be: “Get lost, Hakari.” 

“Whoah, no need to rush things. Come on, I didn’t even get a chance to invite you to our party yet,” Hakari’s grin widens, “I just figured I’d get your owner on board before I pet the puppy, yeah?” 

Tsumiki and Yuuta share a look. Megumi bares teeth to growl, rests his palms on the picnic table and leans over to deliver his message again, “Get lost.” 

“Kin, don’t be so rude!” Megumi can hear Kirara’s teeth chattering beside him, a chittering voice attempting to cut through the tension, “What—what he means is that you’re all invited, really!” 

Megumi turns his head, not to acknowledge Kirara or to back down to Hakari, but to look at you. He knows that you know that there are three options to how this ends, and given that he’s already got a strike in your book for bullying Kokichi, and that Yuuta’s route would cause significantly more drama than his, he’s hoping you’ll settle this yourself. 

He tilts his head just enough, raised eyebrows in warning and wait; and then, you give a conceding blink, a small sigh, part your lips to speak, still looking at Megumi when you say: “Hakari, Kirara, you two should grab lunch. They’re going to stop serving the hot food soon.” 

A command hidden as a suggestion. It makes the upperclassmen scowl, but still Hakari motions across the table to Kirara, and they both gather their belongings. “Whatever,” he scoffs, “You know where to find us when you want to have some real fun.” 

Hakari flashes you a wink over his shoulder before he and Kirara make their way around the building and towards the main dining hall. When they’re out of earshot, you smile, look away from Megumi, and back down to your lunch, grabbing the single, wrapped daifuku and tearing open the packaging, before looking back up to him with a smile, “Well, have a seat, Megumi. Join us.” 

Megumi scoffs, standing up straight again, “You’re supposed to be in a meeting with Gojo right now.” 

“I already had Yuuta do my bidding this morning, because he was so sweet to wake up before noon,” you reply, taking the desert out of the plastic, flashing Yuuta a brief smile before looking up to him again, “So I told him lunch was on me, and we ran into Tsumiki on our way. It’s so nice out, isn’t it? Come on, sit with us, enjoy the weather. Yuuta was telling us about the new coup he bought.”

Tsumiki chimes in about her lunch, looking over at Yuuta’s half-eaten tray and wishing she’d got beef instead of chicken. He offers her what’s left of his plate, and she politely declines, before Yuuta insists, pushing his food across the table to her, and you pitch in, putting the remainder of your sauce next to her. The three of you seem to easily pick up where your conversation was presumably before Hakari and Kirara crashed your lunch. 

Megumi’s scowl deepens. He knows that you know that he wants to know why Hakari and Kirara were here in the first place, he knows that you know that their party invitation was just a scheme to get you into trouble and get a rise out of him, he knows that you know he’s going to kick their asses six ways to Sunday unless you tell him not you. 

“Megumi,” you cut through his thoughts, words noticeably heavier, “Sit.” 

He rolls his tongue in his cheek, and you squint a bit, tilting your head to motion to the empty space beside you on the bench. You only spare him a sharp glance, before giving your attention back to Tsumiki, clapping happily as she shows you something she bought on her phone. 

With a huff, Megumi rounds the table, sets his bag down on the soft grass and swings his legs over the bench and next to you. Tsumiki turns her phone to Yuuta, and your attention is back to Megumi, breaking your daifuku in half and offering a piece to him. He puts an elbow on the table, leans his cheek into his palm, a defiant expression on his face you pay no mind to—you scrunch your nose with a deceptive smile, bringing the mochi to his lips, and opening your mouth mockingly for him to follow. He blinks at you, slowly; once, twice, a third time before his head dips every so slightly, mouth a jar, letting you place the dessert between his teeth. Only after he has it in his mouth do you begin to eat your half, sparing a hand to raise your arm and pat the top of his head, “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

Megumi tilts his head further into his palm. “You didn’t answer my calls.” 

“When you called, I was eating lunch. It’s rude to take calls when you have company,” you defend yourself. 

“Yuuta answered my texts.”

“Yuuta is scared of you,” you chirp, “And unlike you, he cares to not have write-ups on his transcript. He keeps his physical encounters off-campus.” 

“I am not scared of Megumi,” Yuuta scoffs, leaning over to poke at your forehead, “I’m scared of Tsumiki. And I did not want to be scolded for getting blood on her new Chanel skirt.” 

Between the two of them, Yuuta was certainly the more reformed one; it only took one incident of Tsumiki pulling at his ear and scolding him about using his words instead of his fists for him to actually listen to her. Megumi couldn’t blame him, Tsumiki was hellish when she was truly angry, and he feared Tsumiki as much as the next person, but he also knew how she had a soft spot for her younger brother; a mercy that Yuuta, Yuuji, and Nobara were not privy to when their violent streaks got the best of them. 

Besides, when Tsumiki couldn’t get to him, you were there to tug on his leash and reign him in. 

“Wimp,” Tsumiki coughs, “And simp,” she taunts her brother, “We ought to pick new bodyguards in our next life.”

You laugh softly at her teasing, but still, you rest your elbow on the table to mirror Megumi’s position, “You’re right. I call dibs on Yuuji.” 

Your joke makes the others laugh, and Megumi rolls his eyes as you all chuckle. Still, he shifts to lean his head against your shoulder, sly as he knocks his head against your neck and reminds you of a simple fact: “That’s too bad. You’re stuck with me, in this life and the next.”

[smuttyaf]

Mr. Brightside

𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰; 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝, 𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐬.

wc: 4.2k | part one

breeding k!nk

“What are you up to?”

It’s a simple question, one that you should have the answer to immediately — one that should be rolling off your tongue within a few seconds, but it doesn’t.

In through one ear and out the other, it slips through your mind the question at hand with the following actions partaking in your position right now. With vision trailing closed, a pleasant hum leaves your throat while tongue slithers out to wet bruised flesh, you nearly forget what you’re doing as Harry is fit between your legs.

His lips suck your swollen glands in his mouth, muscle sliding amongst jittery ball of nerves that has your chest stutter at the lewd motions. Shaky fingers feel over cotton sheets as they draw down the expanse of it to cradle themselves in untamed curls.

“Hello?”

The questionable voice on the other end of the line makes another subconscious hum float into the space. Your lips part, shoulders going slack with toes curling in; how did you manage to even get here?

“Just ah… catching up on—” The hand holding your phone carries itself away from your ear as Harry’s tongue prods gently against your needy hole, making a pitiful whine escape. “Fuck.”

Teeth bite into your flesh hungrily, lashes peeling your vision open with fingers tugging away on his strands of brown locks. This is so wrong, absolutely diabolical but it’s even worse that you like it.

It all happened so fast; one moment you were reading with feet mindlessly tussling with Harry’s to soon answer the bombarding call of your boyfriend. It’s not unusual for Reid to call and check-in, he’s done it before it’s practically part of your routine, but that doesn’t mean that Harry wouldn’t be annoyed by it.

At first it started with double checks in your direction, the obvious look of “hurry and end the call” written all of his features, but Harry never understood that it was not that easy to immediately get off the phone with him. So, as Reid listed off the many clients he met today to what he had for lunch, it was only right for him to close the unattended book in your lap and slide it amongst the bedside table, his hands soon scooping your waist in his hold as he pulled you down the bed.

It was innocent, at least that’s what you thought. His touch pushing your thighs higher up amongst your body to the point your knees lie into your chest. His gaze haunting as you lightly laughed into the phone at whatever joke was said.

In Harry’s mind you shouldn’t be laughing at something that didn’t come from him, and frankly it was pissing him off that Reid was cutting into his alone time with you. And yes, by now he knows; he’s heard it all before. Being with someone in a relationship wasn’t for the weak-hearted, not for anyone built with insecurities, and at first Harry had it down pack, he didn’t care for your boyfriend, he was annoyed by his presence and stupid jokes (who wouldn’t be) which is why he made sure to make a good impression on you the first time.

Yes, you…

Sweet smile and the irresistible aroma of vanilla. Since being introduced in the friend group Harry knew he had to have you and he didn’t care if Reid stood in his way.

It’s why he made his move on you so long ago, why you’re pressed beneath him right now - your once adorable laughter being caught in your throat as Harry pressed himself into you. Half hard bulge sinking into the fat lips of your pussy stretched in such a position from your leggings that you inhale an uneasy breath, vision looking between his heavy-lidded eyes and growing cock.

“You alright? What happened?” He asked because such sudden pause in laughter leaves the call feeling ominous, confusion completely flooding his tone.

“I-It’s nothing… just stubbed my toe.” The first lie falling from your lips as hand went towards the band of his joggers, the gentle shove you do means nothing to him as Harry takes them to hold.

“Oh! Ouch!”

“Yeah…”

Innocence flew out the window that very moment, but it’s hard to think it was ever there. Shallow breaths escape watching closely to the way he trails up the expanse of your torso, body leaning in closer allowing his cock to rub amongst your pussy rougher than before. Harry’s nose softly dragged down the underside of your throat as your intertwined feet now run along his calves.

His lean body pressed amongst yours and fit himself into your laxed frame as if puzzle pieces made to fit. You shouldn’t have been turned on right then, should’ve pushed him away again and told him another time… but you just couldn’t, not when your walls begin to swell and pulse against his covered bulge.

From whispered words running across skin to gentle touches pulling away clothes, it all resulted in the circumstance you’re in right now; Harry proudly thrusting his tongue into your pussy. Cherry red and glistening with spit, he lied amongst his stomach with eyes closed and nails scratching into skin purely in love with the taste of you. The scent and arousal being expelled is his absolute favorite; it’s fresh yet ripe, such a distinct specific pheromone that leaves him enraptured by the fact you’re ovulating.

His wet muscle nuzzles itself lucidly between soiled walls. The seedy texture nurturing the fixated trance you have over him; creamy fluid spreading amongst taste buds overthrown by how delicious you are. It’s why he moans against you with brows pushing together. Maybe he should quiet down, stop his hums of pleasure from filling the space but he can’t, not when you’re fertile and dripping with the need to be stuffed.

“Catching up on…”

“The Bear.”

It comes out in a whispered rush, droozy and tired. It makes Reid's face twist in confusion, his familiar irritated huff rings throughout the speaker making you roll your eyes open. You know you’re not making this situation any better, not even trying to hide how out of breath you sound but it’s hard trying to keep your voice flat with the way Harry is eating you out.

“I thought we were watching it together?” He grumbles, clearly annoyed, but you didn’t care.

Harry’s tongue runs itself messily over your hole, his own sight peeling open as his touch drags down your thighs spreading them open further. He adjusts his position, the wings of his back flexing beautifully as he leans up — messy curls and possessive vision looking over your glistening plump lips — letting a tear drop of spit fall across an irritated clit.

Would it be suspicious if you end the call right now? Because you’re sure it wouldn’t be as bad as the heavy panting you’re doing over the phone.

Teeth dig into flesh, sight looking over Harry leaning in and letting his tongue flatten against your lips to catch the fluid and run it back over your pussy. His hand situated along your pelvis draws down to meet his mouth and begins playing with your clit, further adding more pleasure to the already immersed feeling.

“W-We…” Voice halting as your lips part at Harry lapping over your swollen hole again. “We are… I just wanted to rewatch it, catch up.” Hopefully saving yourself as your words wobble in hesitation.

“Babe, are you sure you’re okay?” Reid asks just as Harry’s tongue thrust back in with heavy motions of his thumb quickening in paste. He was breaking you down in every imaginable way and all you could do was accept the fate crawling up your feet.

His grip held you onto the bed, mouth penetrating your drenched cunt as you tried to bite back your whimpers. Harry was more turned on than you could imagine; having his way with you while your boyfriend is listening, not knowing about what’s partaking in the background. It turns him on knowing he touches and licks parts he no longer has access too, how he can fuck you and send you home to him like it’s nothing.

“Are you coming down with something?” He questions once more which drags you out of the lucid feelings beginning to overcome you. Lashes flutter open your vision, consciousness finally coming back with the eery shivers of your orgasm pulsing through your pelvis.

“No, baby. I’m fine.” You manage to say with the straightest voice. Your chest draws in as thighs tighten around Harry’s head, the fingers that once ran through his hair trail down his neck lightly scratching the hickies blossoming along the surface trying to hold onto a sliver of hope.

“The show is just stressing me out,” Breath falling across the screen as pins of pleasure begin to prickle up your spine. “But, what are you doing now? Didn’t you just get off work?”

The little inch of self-control left disappears as nails sink deeper into skin and chest blossoms red while empty moans escape. Right foot twitching, thighs quivering around curls, and spine flexing into duvet allowing the feelings to consume every motion that once rebelled against such feelings finally barreling through.

And as Reid continues going on his daily tangent about how he woke up this morning to the annoying client he had today, your eyes remain close and head buried into the pillow. Hips rotating against Harry’s mouth that slobbers and slurps your orgasm leaking through. If you weren’t so incoherent at the moment you would’ve told him to keep the noise down, but you’re too in love with this feeling — in love with him — to even tell him to stop.

Tongue continuously laps over swollen hole, lips sucking your throbbing one’s into his mouth as his own eyes flutter from the delicious way you taste to the sight of you holding yourself back. It’s such a divine sight; nipples erect, perky and well rounded, chest red with pleasurable irritation and neck straining trying to not let moans escape. Harry can’t help the way his own hips runt into the sheets finding minimal satisfaction in the position he’s in.

“Then, babe, you wouldn’t believe what happened-”

But, you don’t care. Not even a slither of your attention is given to him as thumb continues to run across your clit in slow circles. It has you swallow hesitantly, lungs nearly gasping for air as your waist pulls back. Your mind was in the gutter allowing Harry to eat you out while on the phone with your boyfriend. Your body has completely surrendered and been claimed by him that it didn’t matter who was on the other line and if he could even hear the exchange going on right now, nothing matters at this moment but your climax racking through leaving twitching tremors to rake throughout.

It was hard to not let a tiny whine escape, bruised fat parting eerily as Harry’s wet muscle ventures up the expanse of your pussy. Split ends tickle inner thighs as warm breath runs over blushing skin, his touch peels away from your trembling waist as they draw up your body. Soft moist sponges of love trail up your chest to pepper along your neck drawing you back to consciousness.

“Pussy so perfect.” Harry slurs drunk from the taste of you. He’s intoxicated and will do anything to have all your focus on him. “Gonna fuck you baby, I know you’re begging for it.”

Erect cock sinks along your pelvis making you whimper against the blade of his shoulders. Heavy lidded eyes look up at the ceiling to the ringlets floating in your vision. Just as much as he was infatuated with you, are you to him; heart singing a heavenly tune, legs wrapping around his waist to fingers dragging along his stomach. The feelings that ignite and pulse through your veins at just the simple feel of him running down your skin was an electric passion that had you hooked on him from the very beginning.

“Want me to fill you up?” He breathes into your ear as his arms shuffle by your head. His own cranes away to look over your face, how glossy your eyes are with arousal and teeth fitting along fat flesh. It’s that sight alone that he presses his lips amongst yours; both slouching amongst the other and french kissing as if wanting to devour each other again.

“Y/N, what the fuck is that noise?”

Eyes pop open in surprise, immediately you pull away with hand tearing the phone away from your ear sending Harry a concerned look.

“You think I give a fuck?” His words falling over your face with the end of his lip turning up into a smile. It shouldn’t arouse you, but look at the predicament you’re already in, obviously it turns you on more than you’d like to admit and maybe you need to start coming to terms with that.

“This pussy belongs to me.” Harry affirms as gaze flickers from your pouty lips to full breasts on display. He sits up on his knees, vision still stuck on your body and how sexy you look below him that he doesn’t hesitate to slap your tit obnoxiously earning a giggle from you.

“What the fuck, Y/N?”

“Oh my god Reid, it’s nothing. I’m just eating strawberries?”

Another laugh escapes as Harry rolls his eyes at your excuse, it’s a shitty one but it’s all you have at the moment with the way his cock lies along on your stomach.

“Jesus, go on mute then.”

“Yeah whatever, whatever. What else were you saying?”

Stirring the conversation away, you watch Harry drink in your appearance with hands feeling over your body. Tongue escapes to wet your lips as you raise up on your elbows, hand lifting the phone away from ear to put it on mute before you throw it onto the bed.

“Done playing games?” Harry questions as he takes himself into his hands, thighs shuffling amongst the bed to pat his cock along your puffy folds.

“Mhmm… want you to fuck me.” Spreading your legs wider as sight doesn’t stop looking at how thick he is.

“Yeah… you liked me eating your pussy while you're on the phone?” Words initiating a low whimper from your throat as your head nods along to answer. That look alone has the crown of his cock rest before your hole.

“Love my dick more than your boyfriend’s, huh?” He continues to egg on as he buries himself into his favorite place. He didn’t need an answer from you because the sight before him was already enough; heaving chest, brows frustratedly pushed together and cheeks all red and rosie. He's in love.

“Tell me baby, I wanna hear you.”

“Yes, Harry. Fuck.” A deep breath escapes your lungs as you look up at him, one hand situated along the duvet as the other runs down his tattoo arm. His beauty still captivates you till this day with the way he leans over and fits himself on top of you. His hair falling across your forehead while his big hands hold your body into the mattress. You’ll never get used to this beautiful sight. “Love your cock so much.”

Harry takes pride in those words. Your wet pussy surrounds him with tight walls stretching all over his pulsing dick. It drapes love all over him knowing your body and words correlate together always giving him his favorite answer; it’s why he moans lowly. Hips drawing out to begin thrusting back in steadily, letting it imprint in your mind just how good he feels stretching you out. Thick, heavy, and pressing against your lips snuggly, he wants you mesmerized and fascinated by the way he fills you up.

“Gonna put a baby in you.” His deep voice fans across your temple while his hips continue to drum against yours. Such a comment allows an array of butterflies to swirl in your stomach.

Of course, Harry would say something that hot and possessive while he fucks you into the sheets. Lengthy girth collecting with creamy slick that begins to cascade down the expanse of him. It’s clear you want it, from the hesitation in your breath to the slow bat of your lashes, you’ll do anything to have his seed buried in you.

“Fill you up and make you mine forever.” Harry continues as his hands leaves their position to hike your thighs up higher on the bed letting him slip deeper into your pussy.

“Want you to take my seed, every last drop of it.”

“H… you’re so deep.”

Head bobbing relentlessly to the way he’s fucking you to the point your feet dangle in the air. Harry is fucking you vigorously; sight transfixed over your pleasure filled face to your breasts bouncing to each rough thrust. A hungry groan escapes Harry at just the look alone, how enthralled and delighted you look at just him filling you up this way.

“Yeah… you like my dick?”

“I love it baby, love your cock so much.”

Your vision looking at how fat lips spread each time his balls press against your pussy while he tags your cervix repeatedly. This feeling was making you absolutely delirious; mouth opening and closing constantly, heart pounding along rib cage as pussy throbs with each stroke. You swear every time he slips in you fall deeper into ecstasy.

This whole entire situation is a twisted fucked up one but you wouldn’t want it any other way. Being split in half by Harry as he lies on top of you letting you feel every inch and say the dirtiest things to put you over the edge. You might as well be in heaven being pounded the way you are.

“My dirty fuckin’ girl.” Harry mumbles as body now sounds against yours. Sweat begins to cascade down and slither into every inch of skin that radiates how heated both of you are.

You’re so wrapped up in Harry and how he’s plowing you into the sheets that you’ve completely forgot Reid was on the phone — and it’s obvious to him that you forgot too because he’s now ringing down your phone hoping you pick up again. The persistent vibration of his calls are felt on the other side of the sheets but they’re easily drowned out by your moans filling the air.

“S’good baby, fuck me so good.” You slur as eyes peel open slowly with hands running up your sides to touch where Harry is holding you down.

“Mm…” His head swaying into yours swiftly consumed by how wet you feel as if he’s underwater. “Jesus, your pussy is amazing.”

Immediately you moan at his words before letting your neck crane forward and have his lips slot along yours. Spit exchanging and twirling along tongues hold your attention more than Reid ever could that the repetitive hum of your phone going off every few minutes isn’t even heard by the sobbing puddle of arousal dripping from your sex.

The heavy drag of Harry’s cock drumming into your pussy leaves endless whimpers to breathe into his mouth. Pitiful and needy is all that emits; it’s what your aura is filled with and Harry can’t get enough of it. Pussy wet and squelching every time he sinks further and further into your sweet cunt that he loves so much.

“Sh-Sh-” Words being cut off as your sight rolls and head slips deeper into pillows. You're dizzy off how Harry can fuck you like this every single time. More desperate, more hungry, more addicted, you could only take so much for so long till you start succumbing to the pinches crawling up your toes and digging nails into skin.

“Can’t wait to see how swollen your tits get.” His breath falls across your lips hotly that you whimper in response. Head nodding as sight grows heavy, captivated by his lewd words only further coercioning your climax. “Pretty pussy so needy for cum.”

“Harry.” You cry out pathetically has he begins fucking you with long, rough strides.

Your chest glows with hunger, waist twitching as his grip tightens itself along your thighs as he goes to sit up. Abdomen flexing, tattoos shining and body pouncing into yours; Harry is so hot — undeniably hot — and when he fucks you like it’s his last day on earth and whispers his most dirtiest thoughts in your ears it was only right for you to be falling apart.

“Look at you… begging for it.” Harry groans as he presses you further into the bed as if he could fold you even more. But, it was okay. Of course it was, his cock was satisfying your every need.

“Tell me baby, tell me you want my cum.” He lets his left hand leave your thigh to slap it dominantly earning a high pitch whine to leave your throat.

“Mm… please…” Your voice is filled with pleasure as your orgasm begins to tick all throughout your pelvis and jerking spine. “Want you to breed me, fill me with your seed.” Said so out of breath as your body continues to thump into the bed recklessly while Harry grunts into the heated space.

“Harry I’m gonna cum, fuck.” You whine as you feel tears begin to fold over your waterline, lips curling into your mouth as chest stutters letting the waves of your climax crash over you. “Oh my-”

But again, your words are cut off as he doesn’t stop fucking you. Nails tearing into skin letting tiny droplets of blood prickle amongst the surface, baby hairs sticking to temples and vision blurring in and out of consciousness. It wasn’t a surprise the next slip of words are incoherent mumbles and whispers, something that has Harry feening even more over.

“That’s right, cum on me while I use your pussy.” Such erotic whispers of his thoughts carry your knees further into your chest as you try to shy away from his rapid strokes. “I know you like it.” Continuing to egg you on as if you’re not already withering beneath him in pleasure. “Still letting me fuck you while your boyfriend is calling, don’t you want to pick up?”

Your head shakes disapprovingly as teeth sink into your bottom lip. He knows what he is doing with the quick smirk stretching over his lips to match his teasing words, he loves it just as much as you do by rubbing it in your face about how nasty your actions are to your long term boyfriend, and how he’s the one doing those very things.

“That’s my good girl… letting me use you.” Harry mutters as his head bows and lashes flutter, his cock continuing to let your pussy sound all along the four walls of the room further driving you up the wall.

“Gonna take my cum baby, huh? Want me to fill your pussy up?” His neck ventures towards you as his body completely cowers into yours, limbs stressing to relax repeatedly as you feel his balls twitch against your soaking lips.

“Please put a baby in me.” You whine as hips convulse around his own in the aftermath of your orgasm traveling through. “Please, Harry.”

“Want you to leave me full and round, know you’ll like that baby.” You breathe out shallowly as lungs gasp for fresh air burnt out from how hard he’s assaulting your pussy.

“Breed me baby, please? Please?”

And without hesitation Harry slams his hips into yours once more, a deep groan falling across the crook of your neck as he plasters himself on top of you. Slicky ropes of cum bury itself into your pussy mixing along with your own arousal as he begins cussing profusely.

Stuttering hips surrender to his tantalizing ones as he pulls out slowly before thrusting back in again. Small drips of his seed flowing out of your puffy folds and trailing down your ass cheeks as Harry fucks his nut into you.

“Take it all.” Whispering below your ear while placing a kiss along the skin there. “I love it when you take it all.”

You hum pleasantly, lashes clouding your vision as you nod your head along to his words. Fingers release from around him and draw up his arms feeling over his biceps to his shoulders and into his curls soaked in sweat.

“Gonna look so beautiful carrying my kid.” He says as his waist meets yours once more leaving you to shiver from the feel. He raises up from his spot, gaze all drowsy but filled with love as he doesn’t hesitate to lean forward and press his lips to yours.

Sweet loving kisses exchange in a passionate make out session as Harry continues to stroke himself slugglishy into your soiled cunt filled to the brim with his cum. The feeling of his cock sliding slowing down your walls expanding and bruising every inch with such grace was the most euphoric pleasure you know and you love so much that Harry pleases you so easily with it.

“You’re so good to me.” You hum against his lips as fingers tangle through his heep of hair. “Always good to me.”

And just like that you both are back in your own world. Peppering kisses along skin, sweaty touch roaming amongst clammy one just enthralled with each other and loving the peace you both bring.

You know eventually you’d have to call Reid and explain why you never picked up his call, but that’s just an excuse you’ll have to figure out for another time.

[strawhbrrries]

domestic frank seeing his girl after she’s just come back from a girls night out and she’s a little tipsy and giggly rambling about how much she loves him and how happy she is with him whilst he’s trying to help her get ready for bed :’)

screaming and crying and throwing up, im so glad someone else had these thoughts <3 lots of sweet frankie under the cut!!!!

You weren’t sure who called him or when he showed up, but god he smelled good. He big, strong arms supporting about ninety percent of your weight as he walked the two of you from the car and into the house.

“Frankie!! You smell so good.” Your words were soon followed by a hiccup and some other things neither of you could quite understand.

“C’mon baby, in the house.” Is all he responded, lifting you up the stairs of the porch and avoiding any falling that may have occurred if he let you climb them yourself.

He took your purse and any other accessory he could find and set it on the kitchen counter, grabbing a glass of water and a small snack to help counter, what he was sure was, an empty stomach.

“Missed you so much.” You slurred, clumsily taking off your shoes and smiling up at him proudly when you didn’t fall in the process.

“I missed you too, come drink this water for me, okay?” Frank motioned for you to come over, the space between you and the island counter wasn’t that far so he trusted you enough to make it over there.

“M’kay.”

He stood there and watched you drink the entire glass and eat the entire snack he set out, making sure you swallowed it all and didn’t choke, he felt like a father. He loved you too much to risk you choking on a fucking cracker because you forgot how to swallow, in your inebriated state.

When he had gotten the phone call from you about how much you loved him and how glad you were to have him, he knew it was time to pick you up. He knew how much you loved girls night but at some point, your old man, had enough and wanted you back.

“Let’s go get changed for bed, you need to take your meds too.” He grabbed your hand softly and led you to the bedroom, yet again supporting most of your weight but he didn’t mind.

“Can we have sex?” You blurted out, slapping your hand over your mouth and bursting into a fit of giggles. “That was supposed to stay in my head.”

He smiled softly at you and sat you down on the bed, placing a kiss on your forehead before changing you into your pajamas for the night. He disappears momentarily before coming back with a paper cup of water and your nightly meds, taking the cup away once you had taken the meds.

“C’mere funny girl, let’s rest.” He climbed into the bed and pulled you into his chest, rubbing your arm softly as a way to coax you into sleeping.

[beangfrisky]

singledad!kuroo notices you running at the park every morning while he takes his little girl for a stroll. you always make sure to wave sweetly at his daughter as you pass by. he tries his best to be subtle when he turns around to check you out.

singledad!kuroo finally makes a move when he arrives early one day to find you stretching. he rolls the stroller near you and catches your eye. hand behind his head apologetically, he blames his daughter for being the one that wants to say hi.

singledad!kuroo lets you get back to your run after a few minutes of small talk. you offer to meet at the playground when you’re done. the smile on his face doesn’t fade until he sees you again an hour later. tries to hide how happy he is to finally talk to you but it’s so obvious

singledad!kuroo makes sure to pay for your ice cream when the truck just happens to stop by as you talk at the playground. he also makes sure to say ‘see you tomorrow’ and in his head adds ‘and every day after that’. he is so stoked to get to know the runner he’s been dreaming about

am i the queen of writing for single dads yet

atsumu sakusa iwaizumi osamu

oikawa