#greetings!! thank you for supporting the blog ^^

[ask-shane]

How are you doing today Shane?

(Also greetings to the mod as well, love the blog :3)

i’m… hungover. but otherwise doing fine. life right now is about as interesting as a bland carp surprise.

surely life’s been more eventful for you. have you been up to anything lately?

[lavenderspence]

A bunch of cuties in love | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader

Content warning: fluff, nicknames (i think that's about it?)

Word Count: 2.2K

Summary: Running late to a meeting with Strauss, Hotch leaves Jack with his favorite person - you. The scene that greets him when he comes back leads to some realizations. 

Request: Hotch request: BAU!Reader is Jack’s favorite and always spends the day with them when he’s brought along to the office. They have a cute bonding moment that Hotch secretly watches. Cue the “oh god I’m in love with them aren’t I”

A/N: it’s been two months today since I made this blog, and it’s been wild, it’s been fun, and it’s been a little teary. thank you for the love and support! Please enjoy this cute little hotch piece, I had a blast writing it! Thank you to the anon who requested this, and I’d love to hear what you think! Also, I miss old Disney😭

masterlist

9:23.

On the days you weren’t working on a case, and the only thing you really needed to catch up on was paperwork, your usual start time was 8:30. Yet almost an hour had gone by and he wasn’t in his office like he usually would be.

With a punctual Unit Chief like Aaron Hotchner, it was a shock, and a little nerve-wracking that he was late. 

You’d lie if you didn’t say you were getting a little worried, taking into account the last and only time he’d been late - Foyet attacking him in his own home, leaving him with long-lasting trauma, scars, and without his family. 

You'd never forget that day, and every day after where he was left to suffer, laying the blame on himself. No matter how many times you said it, how many times Rossi patted him on the back, reminding him it wasn't his fault, you knew a part of him still didn't believe it.

And the part of you that cared about him, maybe a little more than you should, didn't have the heart to watch him do this to himself - the silent guilt, the long empty looks. 

You’ve known him awhile, seen him through many of his ups, and just as many as his downs. You’d seen him laugh in glee and beam with happiness, you’d seen him lose it in anger and anguish and you’d seen him cry in heartbreak. 

So much of your life spent beside him, so many memories linked with him, and your team. And much of it you knew was friendly love - your love for Emily and Spencer, JJ and Morgan, Penelope and Rossi. But the love you felt for him was just a tiny bit different, deeper, not the friendly kind. 

You’d only recently started to understand what you were really feeling for him, as recent as the last few weeks. Still new and a little unexplainable at times, you were learning to balance that, within your friendship.

You didn’t think you wanted to pursue anything, right now. It had been a little over two years since he’d lost Haley, since he’d needed to start navigating his life as a single dad, a widower. 

You could still see the pain in his eyes, fresh as the day it had happened. You knew he was managing, but it was still apparent, that it was hitting them both hard.

And Jack? He was a little ray of sunshine in the otherwise gruesome life all of you led - the same could be said about Henry. But Henry was Reid's favorite, as his godfather, you knew the bond between them was unbreakable. 

But Jack? You were his favorite, and he was yours. 

He was your little buddy, your partner in all things art, cartoons, and Disney shows. He was your little helper during all things baking - you'd babysat once and he'd requested chocolate chip, peanut butter cookies and you'd been more than happy to help him make them.

He was a natural baker and a little taster. 

Your love for the little cutie ran as deep as your feelings for his dad.

At the end of the day though, you were a friend, a shoulder both could use to lean on and rely on. You were comfortable in your role within their little family and weren't looking to make any changes then.

9:28.

You were playing with your watch, already having decided you’d be giving him a call if he didn't arrive by 9:30.

Worry was making your hands sweat, and just as you went to wipe them on your pants, the door to the bullpen opened, and in walked a very frantic Hotch - his tie was a little crooked, shirt a little wrinkled, and Jack - a little backpack on his back, and a curious look paired with a timid smile.

Aaron's eyes searched the bullpen, as did Jack's, the little Hotchner noticing you seconds before his father did. You stood up, watching as the blond pulled away from his dad, and on a little run, made his way towards you. 

“Cutiee.” He called out, using the nickname you called him, to address you too. You leaned down when he was a few steps away, accepting his hug, his little arms wrapping around your neck. 

“Hi, cutie.” You greeted him, a wide smile on your face. Hotch had made his way over to you by then, giving you a barely-there smile, but his eyes shone.

“You're late.” You started, pulling to your full height.

“Yeah, Jessica was called on an emergency at the last minute, and Liah is away on a hiking trip, so here we are.” Liah was Hotch's neighbor, she looked after Jack for a few hours when Hotch couldn't stay with him, or Jess was busy.

He looked at his watch, running a hand through his hair, messing it up a little.

“I have a meeting with Strauss…well, right now. Can you please watch him until I get done?” 

“Go, don't make her wait. We'll be okay and we're going to have fun. Right, Jack?” You watched him nod at both you and his dad before Hotch exhaled.

“You're a lifesaver. Be good for Y/N, okay buddy.” Another nod from Jack, and he was on his way to Strauss's office.

‘’Okay Jack, let's see if Aunt Penelope can download a few episodes of ‘The Suite Life’ for us, and then we'll go color and draw for a while. Does that sound good to you?” 

“Very good. Can I also have orange juice?” He asked, taking your hand in his small, soft one, fingers wrapping around your own.

“Let's go see if we have any.” You walked towards the small communal kitchen space, checking the fridge and then you checked the pantry…and, “Bingo. Let's go see the lair.” You led him to Penelope's office.

“Knock, knock, may us mortals enter?” You joked, making your little partner giggle. 

“Us?” Her voice rang from the other side of the door.

“I have sir Hotchner with me. The smaller one.”

“Hey,” Jack said in outrage

“My favorite Hotchner.” You added.

Penelope pulled the door open, beaming at both of you, before she made space for you to enter. 

“Jack, my love, hi,” She raised her hand, letting him give her a high five. Even though she was affectionate, Jack wasn’t as much, especially after Haley. He only hugged a few people now - Jess, his dad, and surprisingly, you. 

It really showed how comfortable he was with you.

“What brings you to my tech cave?” She asked. You raised your brows at him, prompting him to do the talking. 

“Can you, please, download a few episodes of Zack and Cody for us?” His voice rang with its usual child calm and sweetness, fingers intertwined in front of him. 

Penelope's smile softened even more, “Sure thing, sweetie,” Her eyes turned towards you then, “Your tablet?”

“Yes, please.” You knew it was a work tablet, but no one had to know.

“Any requests?” She asked the little guy.

“You pick.”

“Okay-dokey. Should have it in about 10 minutes, my loves.”

“Thank you, Aunt Penelope.”

“Thanks Pen.” You gave her air kisses before you led Jack out and towards his father's office. 

His day had started rocky, hell, the whole night had gone that way. 

Jack had woken up from a nightmare - twice at that. After the second time, he’d asked Aaron to sleep in his bed, too scared and sad to stay in his room.

He’d snoozed his alarm, just once, and had a hard time waking his son up too. He’d had 20 minutes to get himself ready, but Jessica had called 10 minutes before she was supposed to arrive - apologizing because she’d been called on an emergency at work. 

Aaron had to rearrange his whole morning then, already aware he’d be late for work. He’d had to get Jack and his backpack ready and cook him breakfast. All of that, and be in the office before his 9:30 meeting with Strauss. 

Breakfast and preparing Jack for a day at the BAU, he’d done successfully. Arriving on time had been a little tricky, with barely 2 minutes to spare. 

But when he’d walked into the bullpen, Jack spotting you just seconds before he did, and he’d watched your smile grow, he’d known all would be okay. 

Watching you with Jack always brought a warm feeling within him, like he was watching something sacred. You were always patient and kind, always interested in listening to him talk, even though he was a quiet kid, who appreciated quality time more. 

You gave him that too, and a lot of it - you watched cartoons and shows with him. Colored and drew, baked cookies, and played with him whenever he wanted. Any time spent with Jack was about what he wanted, what he liked doing, and above all, making him comfortable. 

Even if it meant cleaning flour off your kitchen floor and whatever had gotten in the drawers too. 

He appreciated, even loved the bond you had with his son, every smile, every hug, and every minute you spend with him. He loved hearing about you from Jack - what you’d done together, what you’d told him, the stories, the jokes, the conversations. 

Hearing his son proclaim you as his favorite person in the BAU had made his heart soar. Taking into account all the time you spent with him, it wasn’t really a surprise. He bonded hard, but once he did, he never went back.

He was much like Aaron himself in that regard. His trust had to be earned, as did his friendship, and it required hard work. Jack was much the same. And you’d successfully earned both of theirs with your beautiful and caring personality. 

He exhaled a breath, checking his watch, step fast, and briefcase in hand. 

11:18.

His meeting with Strauss had run longer than he’d anticipated - over an hour and a half. Diplomacy, politics, budgets, and cuts, they’d run through countless things, half of that meeting already fully blacked out from his memory. 

He was tired - every meeting with Strauss left him drained. Worried,  about Jack and his state of mind after last night. All he wanted to do was get to his office and check up on his son. 

Walking into the bullpen for the second time that day, he quickly made his way towards his office, only to stop short at the window. The blinds were open, having forgotten to close them last night, so he had a clear and full view of his office.

You were sat on the couch close to the armrest, Jack cuddled against you, cheek squished against your collarbone, face almost buried in your neck. 

Your work tablet sat propped on the coffee table, and your arm wrapped around his small body, keeping him close. His eyes were almost closed, your thumb running soothingly on his back. 

He watched, mesmerized by the scene. He felt himself soften, all of him. His face, the furrow in his brow, and the tight set of his lips. His whole body, his heart, suddenly at peace. 

For months he'd observed the kindness you showed everyone - the families of victims, heartbroken by the injustice of life. Passersby, people you might never see again. Your team, especially, your work family. Jack, and even Aaron himself. 

And as he watched you with his son, the one person left in this world who truly loved him, no matter his rights or wrongs - he couldn't help but feel himself unravel. 

Every little thought he'd had about you, every feeling he might have somehow suppressed in order to protect himself and his child, they all attacked him, in seconds. 

Because the truth was, you earned his trust, his friendship, and somehow along the way, you'd won his heart as well.

Right at that moment, his heart pounded in need, in adoration, in pure, clear love. Love he hadn't allowed himself to feel since Haley. Love, he'd frankly hadn't felt in years, ever since he’d put his signature down on the dotted line. 

He wanted to get home to see this. He wanted to see you put Jack to bed, and kiss his forehead with a whispered ‘good night’.

He wanted to stroke your cheek tenderly, pull you into a kiss that made you melt, and stroke a fire within you like no one else could. 

He wanted to tell you he loved you - in the car, as he drove you to work. In the kitchen during breakfast and dinner. In his office, a few stolen moments as you worked. And under the sheets, while you made love. 

And even through the fear that gripped him in a vice, of rejection, separation, and even trust - he still wanted to love you, as if he was loving someone for the first time again. 

“Everything okay, Aaron?” David asked, passing on the way to his office. 

Aaron barely spared him a glance, nodding his head a little, “Yeah, it's okay.”

He pushed the door to his office open and walked in, greeted by his new favorite sight, and his two favorite people. 

Comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

[digiflora]

𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐈𝐓 '𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𝐑𝐎𝐓!

╭─────────────────────── ( 🍭 )

he just can't get enough of your pussy !

› 〉 📂 .ೃ | 🚨🚨🚨SMUT !! (f!reader receiving oral & fingering), uhhh pussydrunk hsr men who are MUNCHES <3, i think this is the first time writing smut on this blog so hereee we gooo, uhh clit slapping (only once thanks blade), overstim, nothin toooo crazy, ever so slight dom!reader for sampo (that man needs to get topped so bad) + you call him a pervert idk, squirting (shoutout luocha 😙)

╰─➤ 💌 ₍₁₎ I HAVENT WRITTEN SMUT IN AGESSSS SO PLS BE NICE AND TO MY MUTUALS SORRY THT THIS SHOWS UP ON YOUR DASHBOARD LETS STILL BE FRIENDS PLS 😭

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 JING YUAN.

this is a dangerous game when he's involved

as a general, jing yuan is very accustomed to being in charge, of taking charge and ensuring that things happen

and as a man who cares more about the hours outside of his work than during, who can blame him for wanting to commemorate each time that he comes home to you?

he's always been very giving as a lover, that much is true. and as a man with a tendency to be more on the... spontaneous side, you were no stranger to a quickie in a slightly less than convenient location. he just couldn't bear to leave you uncared for, after all.

so really, you should have expected that he would quite literally stoop to this level. one minute he was walking through the front door, you calling out a greeting to him from the sink as you washed some dishes.

and the next minute, he was on his knees behind you, your skirt flipped up over your hips and panties tugged to the side as he began to eat you out with some type of renewed fervour.

it had you slapping one hand over your mouth, the other white-knuckled as you hold on for dear life to the kitchen counter. your legs were very quickly turning to jelly due to his ministrations, the feeling of his tongue fucking into you rendering you unable to form sentences.

and even worse than the sensation was the sound of it- every lick and slurp reverbating through the empty room, every squelch of your pussy making you go a shade darker as jing yuan moaned, the bastard, and delved even further into your pussy. your hips pushed against him, his hands snaking their way around your thighs to keep you pinned in place while he ate you out like his life depended on it.

you bit back a squeal as you felt his tongue flick against your clit before running back through your folds, circling the hole before fucking back into you.

"fuck, i love this pussy so much," he moaned out, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh as he came up for air momentarily. "love comin' home to you every day- you taste so good, so good f'me-"

any attempts at muffling your noises were extinguished as you let out a sob, tears welling up from the pleasure, making you fold over so that your torso rested against the counter. your legs were spread wide by now, giving jing yuan all the access that he needed.

he relinquished one of your thighs in favour of using his fingers to pump into you, curling them just right against that spongy spot that had you shaking like a leaf, feeling the pressure build inside you much quicker than you anticipated.

"fuck- fuck- i can't, 's so good-" you were babbling now, trying in vain to break free or push his head away, the pleasure bordering on too much. it was comically easy how ineffective your attempts to hinder him were,

"you can." his voice was some soothing reprieve, and the warmth of his hands squeezing against your hips helped to ground you as he otherwise brought you to the edge.

your thighs were trembling, barely supporting your weight and you could feel your release fast approaching, though something was holding you back.

"cum f'me." jing yuan's rasped voice is what finally coaxed you to let go, to let that string snap with a final cry as you collapsed fully against the countertop.

always diligent, jing yuan continued to eat you out, making sure not to miss a drop as you spasmed against him, hips finally stilling after you ride out your high.

"bastard." your voice is muffled, head resting on your forearms as your regain your strength. jing yuan merely chuckles, placing a kiss with his wet lips to your inner thigh again, one last jolt of pleasure running through you before he stands, fixing your clothes for you.

"but you love it."

you give him a halfhearted kick in the shin.

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 SAMPO.

he's the type of man who's best in small doses

the amount of times you get annoyed while he's on another tangent or trying to scam you sell you a product is..... a bit more than infrequent

but there's ways around that

"sampo, do you ever shut up?"

ironically enough, you asking him that made him do just that, pausing for a second to lick his lips as his smile widened, cheshire-like, as you watched the cogs turn in his head.

"no, but for a small standalone price-"

if youuu put a buck in my cup i will shut the fuck up (sorry)

"sampo."

the man cackles, slinging an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in to his side.

"sorry, doll, but a man has to make a living somehow."

you turn to glare at him now. you really weren't in the mood.

"either shut up or i'll make you."

you watch as his smile drops for just a second, his pupils dilating ever so slightly at the underlying hint of what's to come. and bless his heart, the man decided to push his luck.

approximately five minutes later, you were grinding on his face. the only noises that he really made now were occasional grunts and moans as you rocked back and forth, and you decided that you liked him much better when he wasn't talking.

the man with a silver tongue had his uses, after all.

he was so eager to please, too- from what you could tell with the way he was eating you out. if it weren't for the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling, you would be convinced that he was enjoying it more than you. his moans reverberated around your clit as his tongue flicked over and sucked it, leaving you keeling over and your thighs quaking against the sides of his head.

every moan you let out had him eating you out with a renewed fervour, almost desperate for you to reach your high. you let your hand snake into his hair, getting a full handful before yanking on it, hard. sampo whines from the sensation, and you almost miss the muffled plea for you to do it "again".

his fingertips are digging into your thighs almost painfully, keeping you seated firmly against him (not that you were going to move, anyway).

your eyes land on the tent in his boxers, and an idea pops into your head as you snake your hand past his abdomen to pull his waistband down, letting his cock spring free. it looked painfully hard, the tip already leaking pearls of precum, and you spat in your hand before starting to jerk him off, ever so slowly.

he whined again at the pressure, his hips thrusting up to meet your hand, desperate for any sort of friction.

"you're getting off to this, you pervert?" you laughed as he shook his head desperately, still plunging his tongue deep inside you even as his hips bucked wildly. he was already so close, it almost made you laugh.

you yourself were beginning to feel the coil deep within you start to tighten, a telltale sign that your own orgasm was approaching.

"so if i were to just... stop, you wouldn't mind?" to emphasise your point, you loosened your grip on him, grinning to yourself as he whined pathetically.

"hm... that's what i thought."

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 BLADE.

blade's mean when he eats you out

he's one of those who eats it for his own pleasure, and whether it's until you orgasm once or multiple times, he's not stopping until he's satisfied, overstimulation be damned

"you still alive there?" the man between your thighs snickers at your fucked-out state, not even able to form a sentence to answer him.

how many times had he made you cum by now? six? seven? you'd lost count long ago, and you don't think it mattered much to blade. sometime after the second one, it began to dawn on you that his goal wasn't to simply make you cum then call it a day.

"c'mon, eyes on me." you squeal at the sensation of his hand slapping down against your clit, the raw flesh stinging for a few moments before his hand smooths it over, soothing the skin.

"you can handle one more, right?" you lift your head weakly to meet his ravenous eyes, somehow even hungrier than when he had first started peeling your clothes off. the look in his eyes made a shiver run down your skin, and you gave him a sheepish nod.

"attagirl."

blade's one to keep you on your toes, never knowing just what to expect from him. he ducks his head down, leveling it with your still pulsing hole, and you gasp as you hear, then feel him spit on it.

there's a blunt intrusion as he sinks two of his fingers into you, knuckles deep, crooking them just right to hit that spot inside you. your leg twitches as an automatic response, making the man snicker again.

"you're so sensitive," he coos, and you hide your embarrassed face with your arm. "i bet if i just..." your body seizes up as you cum, again, more sudden than you ever expected as blade presses harder against you. a strangled moan flies out of your mouth, writhing at the pressure.

he's nice enough to let you ride out your high, pathetically grinding your clit against his palm, whimpering at the tenfold sensitivity and the little aftershocks wracking your body.

and when you're finally breathing normally again, you hear his voice break you out of your stupor.

"one more?"

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 GEPARD.

what he lacks in experience is made up for doubly in enthusiasm

because let's be real, this man is too busy with the silvermane guards to have enough time to be dating and fucking around

but for you? he'd make the time. and he'd learn how to get you off while he's at it, too

"so if you just, slide your fingers in, slowly." gepard follows your instructions dutifully, and even then you still winced at the feeling of his large fingers stretching you out, the slightest of burns already kicking in.

"like this?" he looks up at you, all puppy dog eyes, so eager to learn. his face was too innocent for what he was doing.

"mhmm." you smile down at him, his face rested against one of your thighs as his gaze returns to your cunt, glued to the way it stretches around his digits. he feels you pulse against him and he shudders, trying to hold back for your sake. he was here to learn what you liked, after all.

"and then you kind of... curl them a bit? and move them too." his ministrations are soft to begin with, and even there's still an unmistakeable squelch each time he pumps his fingers into you, the lewdness of it all making him turn pink.

"does that feel good?"

"y-yeah, so good, baby."

he's so close to your pussy, you can feel each time he breathes, his little pants hitting your clit, making you even wetter. the anticipation of it all had you practically squirming where you lay propped up on your elbows, watching him.

his eyes are still transfixed on you, mouth hanging open at the way your hips rolled ever so slightly, meeting each of his shallow thrusts.

"you see that bit above? if you lick it, it'll feel really good f'me." gepard nods, all too eagerly leaning forward, licking a thick stripe from your hole to the clit with his tongue, before starting to flick his tongue against it gingerly.

"yeah, fuck, you're good at this." he hums against you, starting to move his tongue with a little more fervour, his hand still pumping into you. he always had been a fast learner.

he settles into a rhythm, one that has you steadily building the pressure in your core, soft moans escaping your lips.

"just like that, fuuuck," you pant out, letting your head roll back and your eyes closed as you focused on the feeling. it's then when gepard decides to wrap his lips around your clit, sucking ever so deliciously to make your toes curl.

you let out a particularly loud moan at the sensation, one that your ever so perceptive boyfriend latches onto, increasing the pressure in a way that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"geppie m'gonna cum- don't stop-" he obeys your every word, slurping at your cunt with a hunger that sends you over the edge. you convulse, hips raising off of the mattress to buck against his face, his fingers curling around your quaking thighs.

"use my face, darling," he murmurs into you, so eager to please. the way the ridge of his nose bumps against your clit helps you ride out your high, grinding against his mouth a few more times before you finally flop back down against, the bed, limbs turning to jelly.

"no fucking way that was your first time eating someone out." gepard merely grins, wiping some of your juices off of his face before crawling up the bed to meet you.

"'m sure it was, now give me a kiss."

ᯓ ᡣ𐭩 LUOCHA.

your life will be CHANGED after this man eats u out for the first time i just know it

like.. he's got skills. he's a certified munch i know this in my SOULLLLL

"just relax, honey, let me take care of you." his velveteen voice is what has you finally lying back, letting the tension in your body leave you as his nimble fingers hook into the waistband of your panties, sliding them off of your legs ever so tantalisingly.

he groans at the string of slick that stays connected to them- no surprises there as you had been sat on his lap kissing him for the past half an hour- and you covered your face in embarrassment.

"don't go shy on me now, hm?" you peek between your fingers, catching the glint of his emerald eyes, the way his smile widens when he makes eye contact with you from his place between your legs.

"hi, pretty."

"hi."

"we can go as slow as you want, okay? tell me what you're comfortable with." luocha's thumbs rub gentle circles into your thighs, coaxing you to open them and let him settle more comfortably.

"do you want me to touch you?" you nod, watching as luocha's smirks almost imperceptibly.

"use your words, darling." you whine, kicking at him lightly.

"quit teasing me."

"do you want my fingers or my tongue?"

"luocha!" he chuckles, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee.

"i'm sorry, love, you're just so cute when you're flustered." he presses another kiss to your thigh now, lips inching upwards ever so slowly, holding himself back as he waits for your go-ahead.

"could you... eat me out?" your face feels so warm just from asking the question, but the nerves are quelled as luocha smiles brightly, shifting his weight on his hips to lower himself down closer to you.

"gladly."

there's a few seconds of anticipation, of his breath hitting your core before another entirely new sensation- something wet and muscled sliding against you as luocha licks a flat stripe through your slit. his tongue sharpens, flicking against your clit as he pulls away after his experimental first taste.

you're already feeling something inside you coil in anticipation, and it tightens even more at the blissed out expression on luocha's face.

"you taste divine, my love."

and then he's delving in for more. your usually so composed boyfriend lying flat on his stomach, buried facefirst in your pussy and eating it like a man starved.

the slurping and squelching noises are obscene, echoing off of the walls and filling up the room along with your wails and moans. your head was in the clouds right now, too fucked out to even scream his name. and he hadn't even put his tongue in yet.

as if reading your mind, luocha finally shifts his attention to your hole, his tongue circling it, teasing it open, before he plunges in along with his fingers, the size of them and his fingertips grazing against your g spot bringing you to the verge of tears.

everything just felt so good, and he was going to make you cum hard and fast.

the regular pressure of an impeding orgasm kept building up, more than it regularly would, until it became an entirely new sensation altogether.

"w-wait, baby, i'm gonna pee or something-"

luocha pauses, pupils blown wide with lust as he meets your gaze.

"you're not, honey, just trust me, alright?"

and because it's him, because you'd do just about anything for him right now if it meant continuing to feel this good, you lie back down, feeling him bring you back to that point again.

his fingers are drilling into you at an almost inhuman pace, the sound enough to make you cum, let alone the sensation. his soft lips suction around your clit, warm tongue flicking against your bundle of nerves repeatedly, making you squeal and throw your head back.

"'m gonna-" luocha nods encouragingly, his nose bumping against your clit in a way that has your vision go white as you writhe in ecstasy. there's an odd feeling, of something shooting out of you, and you look down to see a spray of clear liquid. luocha's fingers rub against your pusy frantically, making you writhe again, prolonging your orgasm as he milks you for every last drop.

you finally come back down to earth, vaguely feeling a warm wet cloth wipe away at you, at the mess you had made.

and luocha's gazing at you with nothing but adoration, a pussydrunk smile on his lips.

"aren't you glad you trusted me, love?"

𝜗𝜚 honkai star rail masterlist

[hamdi-shiltawi]

€328 raised out of €20K!!

‏This is just what our campaign achieved 🤯😓

Hello!? From the middle of my tent that is almost torn apart from the severity of the cold and wind I send you my greetings from the middle of war and destruction accompanied by hunger and suffering

My name is Hamdi, and I am reaching out to you from Gaza, a place that has been my home for my entire life. However, for the past nine months, my family and I have been living in constant fear due to the ongoing conflict. Our once peaceful neighborhood has turned into a war zone, and the situation is becoming increasingly dire.

I am not just reaching out for myself, but for my entire family. I have two brothers, three sisters, and our beloved parents who have always worked hard to provide for us. We have faced unimaginable hardships, and the thought of evacuating is daunting, but staying here is no longer an option. We urgently need to find a safe haven where we can rebuild our lives away from the violence and chaos.

We have exhausted all our resources and now we are turning to you, our global community, for help. Your support can make a significant difference in our lives. We are aiming to raise enough funds to cover the costs of our evacuation and resettlement. This includes transportation, temporary shelter, basic necessities, and initial living expenses until we can find stable employment and regain our footing.

Why We Need Your Help:

Safety: The conflict has escalated to the point where staying in Gaza is life-threatening. We need to evacuate as soon as possible to ensure our safety and well-being.

Future: My siblings and I have had our education disrupted, and our parents have lost their jobs due to the ongoing war. Evacuating will give us the chance to continue our education and build a better future.

Hope: Your donation will not only help us escape the immediate danger but also provide us with the hope and opportunity to start anew.

How Your Donation Will Be Used:

Transportation: To cover the costs of travel to a safe location.

Temporary Shelter: To secure a place to stay while we find a more permanent solution.

Basic Necessities: Food, clothing, and other essentials to sustain us during the transition.

Living Expenses: To help us settle in and find employment.

Join Us in Making a Difference:

Every donation, no matter how small, brings us one step closer to safety. Your support means the world to us, and we are deeply grateful for any help you can provide. Please share our story with your friends, family, and social networks to help us reach as many people as possible.

Thank you for taking the time to read our story and for your compassion and generosity. Together, we can make a difference and give my family the chance to live in peace and security

‏@wellwaterhysteria @nabulsi @el-shab-hussein @irhabiya @sar-soor @appsappsapps s @fancysmut-blog dges @just-browsings-world d @mothblogging @aleciosun @sericumeum a @fluoresensitivearchived @katherineonlyoneperson-blog @khizuo @lesbianavocado @transmutationist t @schoolhater98 @timogsilangan @appsappsapps s @buttercupsticksntricks @sayruq @malcriada a @palestinegenocide @sar-sora @akajustmerry y @annoyingloudmicrowavecultist @sar-sora @riding-with-the-wild-hunt @flower-tea-fairies @tsaricides s @visenyasdragon @tortiefrancis @ear-motif f @tortiefrancis @kordeliiius @brutaliakent @raelyn-dreams @troythecatfish @theropod a @tamarrrra @4ft10tvlandfangirl l @queerstudiesnatural l @northgazaupdates2 @skatezophrenic @awetistic-things things @baby-girl-aaron-dessner @nabulsi27 7 @gaza-evacuation-funds @irhabiya

[guiltyasdave]

help me hold onto you

pairing: Logan Howlett/Wolverine x mutant! f!reader

word count: ~3.5k

summary: Logan deals with feeling guilty after he's accidentally cut you with his claws in his sleep.

warnings/tags: explicit smut (-> 18+ only!), able-bodied reader, reader has hair that can be pulled, no use of y/n, Logan lifts reader up but he's superhumanly strong, so-, graphic description of an injury, graphic description of violence, angst, nightmares, Logan's pov, fighting as foreplay, unprotected p in v, rough sex, biting, praise kink, a lot of animalistic behavior due to their mutations, like they're just a little... primal, it's cute i swear, also reader looks like a human being it's just the mannerisms, fluff

a/n: guess i'm a multi fandom writer now? this literally came to me in a fever dream, very much like the logan brainrot itself lol. this is my first time writing for the man, after watching the movies - also for the first time - last week, so please be gentle with me <3 something very similar happens in the origins movie and i wanted them to explore that more, but alas, i had to do it myself.

massive thanks to @kiwisbell for assuring me that this idea isn't terrible and for freaking out about logan with me in general, to @catchallfangirl for coming up with the whole cat theme and for being so supportive, to @sizzlingcloudmentality for matching my freak and taking the cat theme to the next level, for helping me plot and for being an amazing beta reader, and to @javier-pena for listening to me rant about this idea and being so lovely and supportive <3

dividers by @saradika-graphics who is a queen <3

notifications blog -> @guiltyasdavenotifs & full masterlist -> here

Most nights, Logan sleeps easier when you’re in bed with him. Your body pressed against his, your skin soft and warm against his bare chest. One of his thighs between your legs where you’ve wrapped yourself around him, your touch moving over his torso aimlessly, fingers curling into his chest hair, your hands kneading his flesh in your sleep. The soothing little purrs that emit from your chest when you’re sound asleep. None of it bothers him, no matter how many times it disturbs his own rest. 

It keeps him grounded, feeling you next to him. He’d rather spend the whole night somewhere in that haze between waking and sleeping, listening to your sounds, your breath fanning against his skin, than being pulled under into the depths of his subconsciousness. 

He’d rather open his eyes to see you disentangling your limbs from his, stretching your whole body, arching against him as you yawn. 

He’d rather greet you with a smiling “Good morning, kitten,” waiting for that adorable little crease to appear between your brows when you pout up at him. 

“Did I do it again?” 

He doesn’t hide his grin as he nods, growing wider when you flop back against the cushions with a groan. 

“What exactly?”

“All of it.” 

Your sorry comes out muffled as you hide your face behind your hands. 

“It’s okay,” he says, leaning over you to pull your hands away and kiss the pout off your lips. Caressing that spot under your chin with two fingers, watching you go all soft, baring your throat to him. “I like it.” 

He would much rather wake up like this. 

But it’s been a long week and he’s exhausted. Exhausted enough to get lulled into a deep sleep, encased in the safe cloud of your warm body against his and your touch on his skin. Exhausted enough to dream. And his dreams are not a safe place. 

His eyes fly open with a shout, his whole body jolting upwards, every muscle pulled taut. He doesn’t even register the claws shooting out between his knuckles, all of his instincts screaming at him to fight. 

He’s only faintly aware of the sudden yelp of pain from beside him, the movement of something jerking away from him. 

“Logan,” your voice rings through the buzzing in his ears. Smaller hands landing on his shoulders, fighting to hold him steady. 

It takes a few disoriented blinks before he recognizes the familiar bedroom, a few more deep breaths to stop his body from shaking. To clear the fog in his head enough to understand what you’re saying.

“It’s me, Logan. You’re safe, everyone’s safe, it’s okay.” 

His eyes find yours in the semi-darkness. Wide with worry, but firmly trained on his face, repeating that everything’s okay. He finally registers the familiar weight of you straddling him, understands that it’s your fingers digging into his shoulders. 

He’s still panting, not daring to look away from your face again. The one tether that keeps him from getting lost in his mind again. 

“Are you with me?” you ask, your voice softer now. 

He manages a nod, tries to smile, to wipe the deep worry of your face, but he’s not sure if his mouth even twitches. 

As the feeling slowly returns to his body, he notices something else. A kind of wetness, warm and sticky where your right hand is connected to his skin. The unmistakable tang of iron in the air. He stretches to turn on a bedside lamp, jostling you along with his movement. A quiet whimper hits his ears, so low that he’s sure you tried to suppress it. 

With a new kind of panic surging through him, he grabs hold of your arm, bringing it to his eye level. 

Three scratches ooze in deep red, just beneath your wrist. It forces a gasp from him, eyes dancing frantically between the wounds on your arm and your face. How much blood did you lose already while you were busy helping him? As if he deserved it. 

“Fuck, I’m— I’m so sorry baby, we gotta—” He stumbles over his own words, grasping at you almost blindly, panicked tears blurring his vision. He did this. 

“Logan,” you say, still so inexplicably calm. “It’s fine. Look. It’s fine.” 

You gently pry his fingers off your arm and bring your wrist up to your mouth. Your tongue darts out, drawing long licks against your marred skin, collecting the blood and gliding over the cuts in your flesh. 

It pains him to watch, but it’s the least he can do. The least he owes you. He watches you clean the blood off, watches as the wounds start shrinking at the touch of your saliva, as the skin smoothes over before his very eyes until there’s only three thin marks left, a shade lighter than the rest of your skin. 

“Look,” you tell him again, extending your arm towards him. “I told you it’s okay.” 

He knows you can do this, of course he does. Has watched you multiple times, his fascination with your powers never wavering. How fluidly you move, how quick you attack, how skilled you are at surviving. You just never had to survive him. 

You lean down on top of him until your whole torso rests on his, your thighs still on either side of him, burrowing your head into his chest. “Which war did you dream about?” you ask quietly.

Most of the time, the dreams don’t grant him the mercy to zero in on one single memory. It’s a constant stream, one fight after the other, until all he knows is shouting, fighting, blood and death.

“All of them.” 

You sigh deeply, your breath cool against his sweat-dampened skin. Raising your head a little, you start placing kisses on his chest, pressing your lips into his skin where you can feel the faint beating of his heart.

“I wish I could kiss this better, too,” you mumble. 

He chuckles humorlessly, one hand reaching into your hair to scratch at your scalp. You shudder at the touch, an approving little purr traveling up your throat. 

“It’s okay now,” he mutters, leaning in to inhale the scent of your hair. “Just— I’m really sorry.”

“Don’t be.” 

It sounds so simple, falling from your lips like this. But it’s no match for the aching guilt that’s already eating at him, the questions of what if that start swirling through his mind. 

Your body is growing heavier on top of him as you relax, your breaths evening out and your eyelids fluttering shut. It soothes him, has his own breathing slowing down, but he can’t risk falling asleep again. Not like this, not with your body so close to his.

“What are you— Logan?” comes your instant protest when he moves you to your side of the mattress, your eyes flying back open, wide and mildly confused.

“I could’ve killed you,” he mutters. It could have happened so easily. Just a little deeper, just a slightly different spot. 

“No, you couldn’t,” you quip, arching an eyebrow at him. “Cats have nine lives, remember?” You sneak another quick kiss on his chest before finding his gaze again, a teasing smile on your lips. “Even kittens.” 

It’s an attempt to lighten the mood, to make him laugh. He knows that. You hate the pet name he’s given you. 

“And you’re not gonna waste one on me,” he grits out. 

Hurt flashes over your face, more pain in your eyes than when there was an actual wound on your arm. 

“It wouldn’t be—”

“Don’t you dare say it wouldn’t be a waste.” 

The words come out as a low growl, aggressive enough to send most anyone running. You don’t run. 

Your animal doesn’t like it when he growls at you. He can feel the tension rolling off of you, your hair probably standing on end. Gritting your teeth, you take a deep breath, release your fingers’ grip from digging into the sheets.

“Let’s talk about it in the morning,” you tell him, resignation in your voice. 

Your eyes fall shut again, your head for once resting on your own pillow instead of his chest. He misses the weight of it instantly. You doze off quickly, your hands still pawing weakly at his side, like your body can’t help it. He almost pulls you closer himself. 

While you sleep, Logan forces his own eyes to stay wide open, staring unseeingly into the darkness. 

It’s a quiet day. You had tried talking to him, tried to convince him that it’s okay, that it’s fine. He can’t keep listening to you insisting that him almost killing you is no big deal. He should have known, should have been more aware of the risk instead of letting himself get lost in the blissful sensation of your body curled around his every night. You’ve trusted him so completely, only for him to let you down. 

Just like he always does, the voice in his head whispers.

No matter how many times you swear that you can take care of yourself, he should still be protecting you, not actively putting you in danger while you’re fucking asleep. It’s happened once now, so it can happen again, and he knows that he could never forgive himself. 

He knows that he’s hurting your feelings. Sees how your brows knit together when he barely kisses you back throughout the day. How you bite your lip when the way you’re butting your head against his doesn’t make him chuckle like it usually does. 

He should be angry at himself. He is. But you shouldn’t be the one to catch the brunt of it, and it makes him feel even worse. You always say that he should talk about his feelings more, that it would help to let them out. He suspects that you’re right. He just doesn’t know how.

By evening, you’ve grown uncharacteristically quiet, but he keeps catching your burning glares at him when you think he isn’t looking. Finally, after you’ve stared at him for what felt like an eternity and he’s pointedly ignored you, you seem to snap.

“Can you stop it?!” It leaves your mouth in a hiss, triggering his instincts before the words even register in his brain. 

“Stop what?” he growls back. 

Your fingers curl as a low snarl escapes you. Normally, neither of you lets your animalistic side take over like that. Normally, you’re good at soothing each other. 

But tonight, he can feel the energy crackle between you, the tension begging to be released. 

“You know what! This fucking— sulking or whatever it is you think you’re doing!” 

He rises to his feet, pulling up to his full height. One of your hands twitches. 

“I’m not—” 

You charge at him with an angry shout before another word can leave his mouth. You’re on him in a flash, grabbing onto his arm and letting your momentum carry you until you’re behind him, your nails digging into his shoulders until you’re perched on his backside. 

Whipping his head around, he bares his teeth at you, growls rumbling in his chest. You angrily hiss in his face and swing a hand at him in return, leaving angry red scratches down his cheek. They heal and fade as quickly as they came, but a triumphant grin flashes over your features regardless. 

“Come on, Logan,” you breathe into his ear. The edge in your voice sends fire straight through him. “Fight. You’re not gonna break me.” Your canines nip at his earlobe, somewhere between affectionate and challenging.

He tries shaking you off, but your grip on him only tightens. He collects a fist of your hair instead, pulling harshly to keep your teeth away from his throat. 

“Enough,” he grits, trying desperately to regain control, to become more human again, to smother the primal need to match your aggression. 

He finally grabs hold of one of your hands as well and manages to rip you off his back and in front of him, holding on tight to your upper arms to keep you in place. You’re snarling and twisting in his hold, but he doesn’t let up. 

“Enough,” he repeats, searching your wild eyes. Your movements slow down a fraction, giving him a moment of hope, before you surge forward and bury your teeth in his lower lip. It hurts like hell and he can taste blood on his tongue instantly. 

“Fight me,” you demand again, baring your teeth at him.

He pulls you back by your hair with a roar, gathers both your wrists in one large hand and holds you steady. You could still break free if you wanted to, he thinks. He might be stronger than you, but your movements turn almost liquid when you want to escape, he’s watched it more than once. 

The pain in his lip has already subsided, but his blood is still coating your mouth, a stark contrast against the white shimmer of your teeth. 

“Are you done?” His voice is harsh, his jaw clenched, carefully keeping the desire to strike back at bay. 

You deflate a little, some of the wildness draining from you before his eyes. 

“I just— I’m not fragile, I don’t want you to be scared of— of touching me.” Your voice grows small at the end and he’s horrified to see wetness glistening in your eyes. 

The fight mode leaves him as fast as it came, replaced with the overwhelming urge to care, to protect what’s his. His pack, in a way.  

He gathers you into his arms, curling himself around you. It feels good to hold you close again. Breathing you in deeply, he smells the adrenaline still oozing from you, hears the rapid beating of your heart. But mostly, it’s your unique scent, one that he thinks he could recognize anywhere. His tether to this world. 

“I’m sorry, kitten. I’m not scared of touching you,” he mumbles into your hair. 

You sniffle against his chest, but when you finally raise your head to look at him, new determination is glinting in your eyes. 

“Prove it,” you coo, tracing the shape of his lips with one fingertip. “Please.” 

That he can do. He nips at your finger playfully, your responding giggle the best sound he’s heard all day, before he shoves it out of the way to connect his lips with yours. It’s rough, a clashing of teeth and tongues, the tension that has been building and warping all day finally finding a release. 

You gasp into his mouth when his tongue moves against yours, your hands pulling at his hair, needing him closer and closer still, never close enough. His groan at the taste of you travels through you both as he’s grasping at your clothes. 

He longs for your warm skin under his palms, longs for how you lean into his touch so needy all the damn time. You pull away with a moan, helping him to pull your sweater over your head and stepping out of your jeans as he sheds his flannel. 

You bring both hands up to cup his face, to search his eyes. “Don’t be gentle,” you plead, “please, I need—” 

You don’t have to keep talking for him to understand what you need. I’m not scared of touching you. 

With a growl, his hands find your hips, holding you tight as he’s walking you backwards until your ass connects with the backside of the couch. He crowds you in, paws at every inch of bare skin he can reach, his cock already hard and aching at your soft warmth and the sweet mewls that tumble from your lips. 

Hitching one of your legs up to open you for him, he grinds himself against your barely covered center. A keening sound escapes you at the friction from his jeans against your sensitive flesh and he allows himself a grin. 

“Feels good, kitten?” 

You nod mindlessly, holding onto him and rocking your hips against his while you’re letting him move you however he sees fit. 

“Do you want more?”

“Please, Logan.”

You sound so sweet when you’re like this, when you put your body into his hands. I’m not scared of touching you.

Setting your leg back down, he watches with hunger as you hastily take off your underwear while he pulls the white tank top over his head and opens his belt buckle. He could swear that your pupils dilate a fraction at the sound of it, filling him with a possessive sense of pride. 

As soon as his jeans hit the floor, he’s all over you again, palming the weight of your breasts, tugging and pinching at your nipples as he swallows down your mewls. You’re soaking wet already, covering his cock in your slick as he nudges against your folds. He’s impatient to feel you all around him, to sink into you, to stake his claim again and again and again. 

He normally works you open longer, gives you more time to prepare, but your impatience is just as apparent as his own, with the way you whine and plead for him, your fingers digging into his flesh, trying to pull him nearer. 

He follows your pull, pressing your backside into the couch once more as he crowds your space. Leaning in, he kisses you deeply, licking into your mouth, one hand buried in your hair and holding you close. 

“I love you,” he breathes against your lips as he lets go of you. I’m not scared of touching you.

You smile softly, echoing the sentiment back at him. 

A surprised squeak escapes you when he turns you around suddenly, bending you over the back of the couch. He lines himself up at your dripping entrance, desperate to fill you up, to give you what you’re craving. 

“Not gentle?” he rasps once more, one hand curling around your neck from behind, both in reassurance and dominance. 

“Not gentle,” comes your breathy answer. It breaks off into a shriek of a moan when he slams into you with one long thrust, stretching your tight walls around his length. The sting of his sudden intrusion has to hurt at least a little, but you push back against him eagerly, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. 

Logan holds himself still for a moment, mesmerized by the sight of your squirming body and your needy little sounds, before he pulls out almost entirely, only to push back in forcefully. Your toes barely reach the floor with how far he’s bent you over, lifting you into the air with every harsh thrust, but he’s holding you steady with ease, both hands possessively spanning over your waist, positioning you exactly where he wants you. 

“Taking me so fucking well, like you were made for me,” he growls, gently scratching over your back with his nails. You arch up to chase his touch, tightening around him, almost purring with pleasure. Wetness pours out of you, coating his cock. I’m not scared of touching you. Not when it feels this good. 

“M–more, please,” you whine, blindly reaching backwards to him. 

He leans over you, cages you in, his arms on either side of you, his breath hot against your skin. His teeth sink into the back of your neck, not so deep as to draw blood, but enough that he knows the indents will stay there for quite some time. 

Your whole body goes limp at the sensation, a surprised mewl escaping you as you clench around him wildly. 

“Fuck,” he breathes, his own hips stuttering, “give it to me kitten, come on—” 

He reaches around your hip, fingers teasing through your slick folds and up to your clit, rubbing with slight pressure as he keeps pistoning into your heat. 

“Logan—” you gasp, getting almost impossibly tight, before you shatter around him. He keeps thrusting into you, keeps up his ministrations on your clit, until the pulsing of your cunt around him sends him over the edge as well. He spills his release deep inside of you, the thought of leaving a part of him with you always filling him with a primal satisfaction. 

Pulling you up instantly, he gathers you in his arms, your body soft and pliant against his chest. Walking around the couch and sinking into the cushions to lie down, he gently moves you until your weight is resting on top of him, his embrace wrapping around you.

You stir a little, needing a moment to take in your position. The look of uncertainty that you give him damn near breaks his heart. “Is this okay?” You sound uncertain, too.

God, he’s such an idiot. 

“Yeah, kitten. It’s— fuck, of course it’s okay.”

thank you so so much for reading! i hope you enjoyed, and if you did, a comment or a reblog would absolutely make my day :)

-> part 2!

[kingkaisen]

THE FANBOY GUIDE!

˗ˋ ୨୧ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 ୨୧ ˊ˗ fanboy!gojo x celebrity!reader

˗ˋ ୨୧ 𝐃𝐄𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍 ୨୧ ˊ˗ gojo, one of your biggest fans, has the chance to finally meet you. however, he hopes to also accomplish his number one dream: to fuck his idol.

˗ˋ ୨୧ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 ୨୧ ˊ˗ 18+ ONLY // MINORS DNI - (switch!gojo, creampie, oral f!receiving, riding) fem!reader, no curses au.

˗ˋ ୨୧ 𝐀/𝐍: ୨୧ ˊ˗ gojo has been on my mind, & this is the result! header concept inspired by @kazushawty’s cyber theme.

˗ˋ ୨୧ 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓 ୨୧ ˊ˗ 4K

THANK YOU FOR YOUR PURCHASE, SATORU. ENJOY THE EVENT!

The blue-eyed man blinked at his bright computer screen, which displayed his emailed receipt from Ticketmaster. In the left pocket of his black sweatpants — which he wore despite the summer heat at this time of year — his phone buzzed to alert him of a fat sum of money being taken out of his bank account.

“Holy shit,” he mumbled to himself.

He refreshed the page. And he refreshed it once more.

But after two lengthy scrolls through the confirmation email, there was no denying it.

He was going to meet you.

Gojo’s long fingers clicked away at his mouse and keyboard until he landed on his rather popular fan blog. To say that he was a member of your fandom would be an understatement, as he practically ruled over all of your supporters and gave true meaning to his username, kinggojo.

Even as a busy high school teacher and martial arts instructor — perhaps, entrepreneur as well, being as he owned his own martial arts school — he still carved out some time every single day to post about you. Watch your videos. Study your latest professional photoshoots and off-guard paparazzi shots.

And soon, a little plastic backstage pass will dangle around his neck, giving him undenied access to you.

The real you.

—

kinggojo: guess who’s finally gonna meet y/n? (:

—

At the airport, Gojo spent his time FaceTiming Nanami, who had to endure his rambunctious ramblings while on his lunch break.

“Give me one year,” Gojo paused, glancing down at his phone, “one year, and I swear, she’s gonna become my wife.”

“I don’t care,” Nanami chewed on his sandwich. “Please leave me alone.”

“Yeahhh, you’re just jealous.” As Gojo grinned goofily, the salaryman promptly ended the video chat.

While Gojo would have dialed him back repeatedly until he gave in and answered, Nanami had lucked out, as it was time for him to board his plane.

The plane ride was nothing short of exhilarating. Gliding through the air as a first-class passenger, he counted down the minutes until he’d finally see your charming smile in person.

Naturally, he had to splurge for an occasion as special as this one.

The best seats on the plane, the nicest hotel room in the city — he wished he could personally thank the spoiled geniuses who invented valet parking and free drinks for first-class passengers.

Although his bank account had seen better spending days, he was perfectly fine with eating cheap styrofoam cups of chicken flavored ramen once he got back home from his trip.

In his hotel room the night before his Big Day, Gojo gathered everything he might have needed along with his ironed outfit, and hung it up in the closet. He took his time with making sure he’d look especially sharp come morning, as he wanted to look good for you.

Good enough for you to fuck him.

Call him crazy. Overly optimistic. But he had a goal; an accomplishable dream that made his dick harden against the fabric of his pants whenever he thought about having hot, creamy sex with you — his number one idol.

As he crawled into bed and lazily stroked his cock, painting his fist white as the pearly ropes of cum spurted out of him, he thought about what it would be like if his wildest dream came true.

—

At the meet and greet, Gojo stood around backstage with all of the other fans, and one of them even knew about his blog. They all chatted about you, occasionally interrupting themselves to mumble a quick “I’m so nervous,” before talking about another topic, and Gojo couldn’t help but have pity for them.

He was nervous as well, of course, but even more so, he was determined.

And when you stepped through the door, smiling once your prosperous groupies shrieked and squealed, Gojo had finally understood what authors meant when they wrote about love at first sight.

You were more beautiful than he could have imagined. Even more gorgeous than in your pictures somehow. He was certain that you even glanced his way, but he couldn’t prove it.

“There she is,” Gojo said to no one in particular, not even completely aware that the words had fallen from between his lips, but a woman standing next to him spoke up.

“I can’t believe this is really happening!” She shook her hands out of pure excitement. “I hope she’ll sign my merch!”

Precious.

Some people had hopes and dreams as simple as that one. The taller man was certain that if he confessed his own hopes, they’d laugh at him.

Or worse, get him kicked out of the meet-and-greet completely.

But he didn’t have time to worry about what anyone else hoped to gain out of your event, not when the queue was moving rather quickly, and he found himself biting his lower lip and shifting his weight.

He was growing more and more nervous with every second that passed by. It was the ultimate countdown until he’d finally meet you.

Soon enough, it was his turn.

“Hi,” you beamed kindly at the handsome stranger, “how are you?”

How cute.

Your sweet, customer service tone made his heart skip a beat, and while he wanted to revel in the fact that he was meeting you and you were speaking to him, he couldn’t think too much about it. He couldn’t risk losing his cool.

“I’m better now that I’ve met you,” Gojo smiled, pulling out his phone to take the one photo he was promised in his package deal. “How are you doing? Having fun?”

You tilted your head a bit, and it occurred to Gojo that most fans probably didn’t bother to ask about your day, or your feelings.

“I’m great, thanks. You’re really kind for asking that!” You smiled. “What pose would you like to do, honey?”

Gojo melted inside. He knew the term was simply meant to make your fans feel more special than they actually were, but even so, he’d never forget the sound of you saying that to him.

Suddenly, Gojo wrapped one arm around your waist, pulled you against his side, and he raised his phone before snapping a photo with you.

Before he pulled away, he whispered into your ear, “there’s something really sweet about the way you called me honey just now.”

“O-Oh,” you stammered, looking down at your feet, the stranger’s warm breath against your ear made your cheeks warm up. “I just call everyone honey.”

“Of course, I’m just saying that I liked it. You’re just…” Gojo paused, looking you up and down, “pretty cute, aren’t you?”

Looking up at him with an expression he couldn’t quite read, you said, “are you flirting with me?”

Gojo glanced at your security guard. The buff guy was more interested in the complimentary buffet than your protection, and Gojo took a step closer, hearing a jealous groan from the line of fans behind him.

“Maybe,” A small smirk appeared across Gojo’s face. “How would you feel if I was?”

“I’d probably have to just . . . ask you to leave.”

“There’s no need, sweetheart,” Gojo said softly, “I’m running out of time anyway. But that’s no way to treat a fan, is it?”

You gulped. You stared deeply into his eyes.

“You’re, um,” you said shakily, “you’re allowed to hug me before you go . . . if you want.”

“Come here, then.”

The tall man wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. The hug lasted longer than it should have.

“I’d love to spend more time with you,” Gojo whispered. “Maybe some other time.”

As he pulled away, you felt him slip something into your pocket.

“It was nice meeting you,” you said.

He left without another word.

Your meet-and-greet lasted for two entire hours after that, and throughout every single interaction with a fan of yours, you couldn't help but wonder what the handsome man slipped into your pocket.

Finally, as your event came to an end, you reached into your pocket and found a yellow sticky note.

Written on it was an address, a hotel room number, and his name.

—

Any sane person who valued their safety and their life would have ignored it. Toss the note in the trash. But you found yourself standing outside of his hotel room door, and for the first time in your entire life, you were nervous about meeting a fan.

You knocked on the door, your breath shaky as you did so.

“This is insane,” you thought.

Half of you wanted to run away before he answered. The other half of you wanted to stay.

But, before you could truly decide, he opened the door, standing there with a genuine look of surprise.

“Huh,” Gojo smirked, stepping to the side to let you into his room. “You actually came.”

It was all an act; the cool, calm, and collected aura was a cover-up, for underneath it all, he was a mess of a man.

The sweaty palms that he secretly tried to wipe off on his pants. His throat dried to a crisp no matter how many bottles of water he downed before you knocked on his hotel room door, which was idiotic, because he ended up spending the last thirty minutes before your scheduled arrival running back and forth to the bathroom to pee.

However, after years of flashing a false smile in front of a classroom packed with moody teenagers during his darkest days, and dishonestly congratulating his martial arts students even when their kicks were less than splendid to encourage them and see them beam with confidence, Gojo had considerable expertise when it came to acting.

Of course, he was nervous.

It was you.

Even so, as his heart pounded rapidly inside of his chest, he was beyond thrilled about what was to come.

And who was to come.

“I knew you’d be surprised. I'm surprised as well.” Shutting the door after you entered his unexpectedly luxurious hotel room, you gulped, your eyes failing to meet his bright blue ones. “I don’t normally do stuff like this.”

“Sleep with fans?” Raising an eyebrow, Gojo’s cocky smirk turned into a rather kind smile.

“Yeah.”

“Well then, I’m honored. I mean, just getting to meet you was something I wanted for a long time. And to know you’re actually gonna let me ruin you?” Slowly, he leaned in, placing a soft kiss against your cheek. “It’s a dream come true.”

“Are you really a fan of me?” You gave him a look of disbelief.

“Of course I am,” he mumbled. “Why? You don’t believe me?”

“You could have pretended to be a fan to get my attention or something, I don’t know.” You shrugged shyly, which was the cutest thing Gojo had probably ever seen. His cheeks started to burn from grinning so much.

“Trust me,” Gojo suddenly pressed his palm against your jaw, running his thumb across your cheek, stroking you delicately as if he were touching fragile flower petals. “I’ve watched every single video that you’ve ever posted, seen almost every photo, liked every tweet, and ignored all of your typos. I’ve read every single piece of fanfiction about you that I’ve come across online. Tried to write my own one time. It was shit, but still. I’m not really the kinda guy who likes to label myself, but if I’m not your biggest fan, then I don’t know who is.”

When he ran his thumb over your mouth, pulling down on your soft bottom lip ever so gently, he couldn’t help but imagine what it would feel like to actually kiss you.

He wanted to do it.

Desperately.

Moonlit nights spent warm in his bed were when he alternated between his top five favorite scenarios, daydreaming about your first kiss as he drifted off to sleep. And, now, he would have the chance to feel your pillowy lips against his — and, god — they felt so perfect against his digit, he ended up chewing on his own bottom lip as he touched yours.

“Can I kiss you?” He asked softly, his eyes flickering between your gaze and your lips. “Please?”

“You’re my biggest fan, apparently, so you can do whatever you’d like.”

He pressed his lips against yours. Every single First Kiss! cliche he had seen in movies and read about in books — going on about fireworks and such — had a bit of truth to it, because when your buttery lips touched his, he instantly melted into the kiss.

It was as if he was born for the sole purpose of kissing you — like a god created his mind, body, and soul for that specific reason.

He moaned; it was strange, yet familiar, as he never made such a delicious, sinful noise whenever he kissed someone.

But then again, during late-night hookups with unsatisfying women, he wasn’t one to typically make any sort of noise.

Apparently, he only ever moaned if it had something to do with you.

Whether he was jerking off to your bikini photos on Instagram, or kissing you, as it would seem, only you could elicit such a beautiful sound from him.

And he wasn’t complaining. Not one bit.

“Gojo,” you mumbled softly against his lips. “Don’t be such a gentleman.”

“Trust me, I’m not.” Gojo's mouth hovered over yours as he spoke. “You have no idea how badly I wanna toss you on that bed right now. I just need to take my time with you and enjoy every minute. I’ve waited too long for this to happen, and I’m not gonna rush it.”

Despite his words, when he reconnected your lips, he kissed you hungrily.

Hurriedly.

His tongue entered your mouth as his hand held onto the back of your neck. It was such a messy kiss, but a passionate one as well, and only a man like Gojo could pull off both with a simple swirl of his tongue, which battled against yours.

And your mouth tasted absolutely delicious. He could hardly wait to taste your pussy as well, wondering how it could compare.

When Gojo’s other hand suddenly gripped your ass, a little gasp escaped from you, and he took that god-given opportunity to deepen the kiss.

If he could have his mouth attached to yours like this forever, wet tongues darting around as you swallowed each other’s moans, he would.

He didn’t want to pull apart to breathe, didn’t want to pause for even a moment and detach his lips from yours, but he did.

He pulled away, but only so he could leave kisses along your jawline.

“Gojo,” you whined, lifting your neck to give the tall man full access to your sensitive skin.

And when those skillful lips of his found that sweet spot right underneath your jaw, he licked and sucked at it as if he’d absolutely die if he didn’t.

“You’re whining like that just from me giving you a little hickey?” Gojo mumbled against your wet skin. “Now I’m curious about the kinda noises you’ll make once I eat your pussy. I won’t lie; I’m pretty excited.”

“Then just do it already,” whining once more, you gripped his shoulders as he started to make his way down your neck, leaving kisses across your collarbone.

“Patience,” Gojo said.

And when he spoke, he spoke as if he wasn’t truly freaking out on the inside.

His idol was desperate for him.

If he didn’t believe in luck before, he surely did now.

Gojo’s large hands, which were formerly roaming your body, pulled your top off swiftly, including your bra. If only he could take your bra with him as a souvenir.

It took all of his strength to not drool at the sight of your hard nipples.

God, were they perfect.

They were certainly magnificent enough to make any previous plans for having patience and taking his time with you flutter out of his lustful mind, as only a few seconds after removing your shirt, you were laying on the bed with Gojo hovering over your tits. He bit his lip in anticipation.

“Can I suck on them?” He asked, his eyes never once glancing away from your chest. “Please?”

“Yes-”

You were interrupted by a sudden gasp falling from your lips, as Gojo attached his mouth to your hard nipple as soon as you mumble that simple little word.

“Hmm,” he moaned.

First, he licked at your nipple while flicking your other one with his finger. Then, he took it into his mouth, sucking on it as he listened to your soft moans, which was a sound he wanted to hear for the rest of his life.

Repeating his actions with your other nipple, he smiled against your tit when you suddenly ran your hand through his hair.

As badly as he wanted to fuck you, the thought of simply laying on your chest on a lazy Sunday afternoon as you ran your fingers across his scalp sounded like a dream.

It sounded like love.

He wanted that with you too.

Gojo took off your pants. He took off his shirt.

Then, he left a trail of kisses down your stomach until he made his way in between your legs. Having the honor of looking at your pussy was comparable only to walking through the golden gates of Heaven.

“What a pretty pussy,” he whispered to himself, running his thumb along your wet folds.

Like a starved man diving into a Thanksgiving dinner, Gojo spread your lips apart, and started to lick your clit.

Even with your back arched, fingers running through his hair as you moaned and moaned, Gojo was certain that he was enjoying it even more.

The hand that was formerly holding the wet lips of your pussy open made its way down to his dick, and he rubbed his clothed dick while moaning against your sensitive button, which he licked at rapidly with his wet tongue.

“Hmm, oh — baby,” he moaned and moaned.

“Gojo,” you whimpered.

He looked up at you through those long eyelashes of his. He was actually going to make you cum all over his tongue.

Excitement ran through his veins like a drug. He attached his lips to your clit, sucking on it until your delicious juice flooded his mouth.

“Oh my god,” you squealed, thrashing around as he refused to snatch himself away from your pussy. Not until all of your creamy mess was all licked up.

Wasting even a drop of your cum was an outright sin. One he would never forgive himself over.

He detached himself from your pussy with a little smack, licking his lips as he sat up.

Gojo started to unbuckle his belt. “You ready?”

You nodded, but once he pulled his pants down, the sight of his large cock made you gulp.

But you should have known.

He was tall. Large hands. Large feet. Large cock, of course.

Gojo pressed his tip against your folds, rubbing the head of cock up and down your wet hole, collecting your juices as he worked his way from your hole to your clit repeatedly.

The very split second in which his cock was pressed against your entrance was a telltale sign that you had never taken a dick that was as big as his.

It managed to put your past partners to shame.

And your purple dildo too.

“It’s too big,” you whined, blinking up at him.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Gojo rested his hard member against your hole. “I’m gonna make it fit, baby. You’re gonna be a good girl for me and take it, right?”

You were getting impatient. The urge to feel him fill you up was undeniably strong, but also, his urge to take his time with you was equally as powerful.

“Only if you be a good fanboy for me,” you frowned, “and put it in.”

“I had no idea you’d be so impatient,” Gojo smiled, but even so, he still didn’t move. Not yet.

“Don’t tease me,” you said.

“Tease you?” Gojo ran his hand along your thigh, and your frown deepened. “I’m just taking my time. Not my fault you’re so-”

“Maybe I should’ve picked another fan.”

Gojo suddenly shoved himself inside of you.

Screw how much he wanted to savor the moment. If you wanted to be fucked right now, fast and hard, then he’d do it. He’d do anything for you.

After kindly letting your pussy adjust to his size, he increased his speed.

The bed squeaked from his thrusts. He pressed his forehead against yours, his warm breath patting against your face as he moaned softly.

“Faster,” you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Oh, did he obey.

He not only fucked you at a harsher speed, but he repositioned himself so that he could thrust in and out of you roughly.

He anticipated the noise complaint he’d receive from the hotel staff already. Not that he cared. He didn’t care about anything except for how good your pussy felt around his cock, and as his moans increased in volume, all of his thoughts slowly fluttered out of his pretty little head.

He couldn’t focus on anything aside from the pleasure.

He just loved you so much. Your content had changed him as a person, shaped his life into something worth living, and now, here he was, thriving in the utter pleasure you gave him. It melted away his cocky attitude, and he gripped the sheets until his knuckles turned white.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me do this,” Gojo said. “I . . . god, I need . . .”

He was begging for something and nothing at the same time, just so desperate and pathetic for you, you, you.

Suddenly, you pushed on Gojo’s shoulders.

“Let’s switch,” you bit your lip. “I wanna ride you.”

He could have cried. You wanted to ride him? Only a fool would turn down that opportunity, and he was quickly on his back as you climbed over him.

“That’s it, pretty baby. Get on top of me.” His large hands gripped your perfect ass, and instantly, he dreaded the very moment when he’d have to eventually let go. His eyes — which glistened with lust without any decency and excitement without any substances — darted down to your wet hole sinking his aching cock. “Oh — put it in. Put it in.”

“Now who’s impatient?” You smirked, but you couldn’t tease him for long, as when his big cock entered you, your mouth flung open with utter shock over how full you felt.

Perhaps, it was foolish to believe that his size was something you’d get used to after he pounded your pussy into oblivion moments before.

Slowly, but surely, you started to bounce up and down along his length. Those bright eyes of his, which were now fixated on your beautiful boobs, fluttered closed as he tossed his head back.

“Oh my fucking god,” he moaned. “Feels so damn good. You’re so perfect, you know that? Keep bouncing on my cock, baby. Just like that.”

He went on and on, more heartfelt words pouring out of his mouth with every jolt of your body.

“I’m so obsessed with you,” he continued, “I can’t lose you after this, I can’t. I can’t, baby. You’re fucking me so good, please…”

He whimpered, which was utterly shocking to him, but it made your walls clench around his dick. His desperation turned you on in unimaginable ways, as now, he was revealing his true colors underneath the false chill and cool persona, and he was nothing more than a pathetic, cute, little fanboy.

“I love you,” a tear slipped down his cheek from utter delight. “I love you so much. Stay with me, I’ll do anything. I want you all to myself.”

“So, so, devoted to me, huh?” You said breathlessly, yet sweetly.

Truth be told, his cock felt so wonderful thrusting in and out of you, it would have been entirely unshocking if you ended up being addicted to him as well.

“I’m gonna cum-” Gojo wrapped his arms around your waist, bucking his hip up to fuck you as deeply as possible. “I’m so close — I’m right there. I can’t hold it, sweetheart, I-I can’t keep it in much longer.”

“Cum for me, Gojo.” You whispered. “Be good for your little idol, yeah? Tell me how much you wanna cum.”

“So badly,” he swallowed thickly, beads of sweat forming across his forehead, his white hair sticking to his salty skin. He was starting to become dizzy from the way your pussy worked on his cock. He couldn’t hold himself back. “I . . . Oh fuck.”

White ropes of his creamy cum exploded out of his dick, shooting inside of you with such urgency and desperation, that a light shade of pink dusted across his cheeks from utter embarrassment.

The white-haired man’s cock twitched. It throbbed until every last drop of semen filled your insides, and broken moans poured out of his throat.

“So much of it,” he softly whined, burying his reddened face in your neck. “I’m sorry.”

His cum spilled out of your pussy. It trickled down until it drenched the white sheets underneath you both, but Gojo’s hips continued to lazily buck up, sweaty skin slapping against sweaty skin as he fucked his cum right back inside of you.

—

After taking a few moments to catch your breaths, you and Gojo were right back at it, going round after round until the sun rose, marking the very next day.

The teacher, who had fallen asleep somewhere around 5 A.M., awakened with a shiver shooting up his spine from the chilly hotel room air. And it made sense why, as he was completely naked.

But when he realized that you weren’t in bed with him, nor were your clothes tangled up on the ground along with his, he frowned.

Was it a dream? No. He knew it really happened. Perhaps, he was a fool to think that you’d stay with him, that you both would wake up together and shower before ordering some breakfast via room service.

You were a celebrity, he was simply a fan, and there was no hope for-

Suddenly, a yellow sticky note fell off of Gojo’s chest.

Written on it was your phone number, and a little heart.

—

When Gojo returned home two days later, he collapsed in his rolling chair, exhaling a deep breath followed by an airy laugh.

Even as he opened his laptop and logged onto his blog, he couldn’t believe his luck. The ultimate fanboy, he was.

Half of him contemplated the idea of creating a guide for every other hopeful man with an appetite geared exclusively towards their idol, but in his gut — which twisted with excitement whenever he thought about you creaming all over his cock so deliciously — he knew that he was simply a lucky man.

A lottery winner. The chosen one.

Even if he got an imaginary Master’s Degree in the study of Banging-Your-Idol, and went on to write nonfiction self-help books to aid all of his followers, they would all still fail to accomplish what he did.

However, even if he couldn’t create a guide to help out every other horny and helpless individual, he could still do one thing.

Brag.

And with that, after taking a screenshot of the recent notification that appeared across his screen — showing that your popular, verified account had followed him back — he started typing.

—

kinggojo: hey guys (: none of you are gonna believe what just happened…

♡ 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠!

♡ 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 & 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!

🏷: @downforsanji @robynnnhooddd @ritsatoru @natalie-san @mikkies @sunjayist @blkwriters @shigemis0ra @whippedbyikemen @arizzu @staubmotte @mokonasenpaiposts @whats-humanity-lol @mbappesgirlfriend @satoruscurse @bear-likes-mushrooms @rinxgojo @arcswonderland @torusmochi @huang-the-geek @ivytears @salmasalamoon @ackachii @ploylulla @1989-taylors @heiixou @roronoaswifey @yourmumsthings @brownskin-bunny @arisucat @dreamtravelersade @hottiewifeyyyy @levin4nami @dazailover1900 @gojomaki @chosogatitos @hoshigaby @trawberry-fire @potofstewie @mx-mekla

[handlemehyuck]

bf dreamies 𓍼 dating a full-time student

꩜ i received a request on my main blog, but it honestly feels weird to post there for nct now lol, so i decided to let it live here >.< thank you for requesting, anon 🤍 happy reading!

mark: he brings you lunch during your shifts at the library. he melts watching you run down the stairs, skipping to his car because you know his adoring gaze is locked on you. the excitement twirls you, and he laughs in the driver’s seat, observing the curious students, probably wondering what on earth is up with this girl. they’d understand if they knew her boyfriend was here. her very busy boyfriend with her favorite food and a kiss to give. a few kisses. as many as she has time for.

renjun: he thinks you’re incredible. he finds your major fascinating and has shown more interest in your studies than anyone else in your life. he quizzes you with your stack of flashcards, throwing in spontaneous questions to make you laugh. he reads over essays. he asks about your lectures, curious to know what the most interesting part was. he loves it when you text him after an exam, confident you crushed it, and gracious for his help, but he always says: no, baby. that was all you.

jeno: you stay up late together. he plays video games and you sit at the desk he built beside his gaming setup. you wear one of his AirPods, attention focused on your laptop screen and the opened textbooks around you. he stopped playing an hour ago and is admiring you, but you haven’t a clue. he leans over to kiss your temple, asking if you’d like some water or tea. all you do is nod, and he laughs. “which one, baby?” “hmm?” “water or tea?” “whichever’s easiest.” your eyebrows furrow, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you flip back a few pages. “i’ll make tea.”

haechan: you’re in an online grad program that’s kicking your ass, so anytime you’re on break, he spoils the hell out of you. you’ve been flown to cities across the world after exam season to sing and dance in arenas and experience top-tier stress relief. when deadlines are compressing, he cooks for you and pulls you away from your desk to eat with him. he’s supportive and sweet but intense about your health. you’re a perfectionist, and he’s received far too many texts from you in the middle of the night like it’s normal to completely disregard rest. your favorite thing to do is nap with him, or feel his fingers in your hair while he watches tv at a quiet volume so you can rest.

jaemin: a part of him—and maybe he doesn’t admit this—is living vicariously through you. any opportunity he has to pick you up after class is taken, and he finds himself leaning forward against the steering wheel to get a better view of the students passing by. the campus is slow and quiet before erupting into a sea of bobbing heads and heavy backpacks as another morning class ends; they navigate the rush like it was choreographed. in another life, he wonders if your paths still would’ve crossed. if you would’ve spent every waking hour studying together in the library, at cafes, in the grass outside the science building once spring’s warmth is delicious. when he sees you, he slides back into reality, feeling the leather beneath him, and smiles widely through his window.

chenle: when he finds out you’re on the uni’s club soccer team, he asks for your game schedule. there’s a twitter page that posts updates, so he makes an account for the sole purpose of following it. his liked tweets are filled with every goal you scored and assist you made; he replies too: that’s my girl!! he has your last name on a sweatshirt that he wears to every game he can make, a mask covering his face, and sunglasses covering his eyes. he loves greeting you after games, your lips still parted, catching your breath. your cheeks are red from the excursion. flyaways frame your face, ponytail messy and much looser, so much looser than it was when you ate breakfast together hours earlier. you unravel the hair tie in his car, run your fingers through your hair, and contemplate what you want for dinner. his treat.

jisung: he’s your safe haven. his apartment is your oasis. his heart lurches whenever you text him about heading over, even if you know he won’t be home for hours. his demeanor always shifts slightly when he knows you’re at his place, and he can’t be there. he always texts back, wondering if you’re ok, and hoping you were just seeking a different environment to study in. when he gets home, sometimes you’re still studying. other days, you’re asleep in his bed or standing in the kitchen in one of his t-shirts with wet hair, waiting for the kettle to whistle. he wishes you’d just move in with him, knowing it wouldn’t only save you money, but he craves your presence. he sleeps better when you’re in his bed, and he prefers to know you’re eating. it warms his heart to see your folded figure studying on his couch, taking short breaks to peer out the window. he takes your picture, sometimes calling your name and catching a soft smile and warm eyes on film.

[neechees]

a poll and then a fundraiser

and now i ask for your attention on Nader's fundraiser. He's getting very close to his current goal on gofundme, so if you could either donate or share this that would be awesome!! thank you!! ( and if you're wondering whether this family is verified and vetted, they are!! please see my pinned post on my blog for proof)

[helpnohafamilygaza]

Now that I have got your attention to something sadder, Urgently and more important🚨

Every day, we wake up to the harsh reality of war, our hearts filled with hope that one day, it will end. Yet, fear clings to us like a shadow, reminding us of our struggles.

We are a family of 17 people, The war has turned our lives upside down, displacing my family and leaving us in desperate need to help.

Now, we find ourselves living in a tent , vulnerable to the elements and lacking basic shelter. The tent offers no protection from the rain or the scorching sun, and each day brings new challenges.

Our lives have become a struggle for survival, with no source of income to sustain us. We are grappling with the rising cost of living, making it difficult to secure food, water, and medicine.🍉

Our situation is dire, and any support you can provide—be it financial assistance or moral encouragement—would make a tremendous difference.

We are calling upon your humanity to share our story and help us raise funds to evacuate to Egypt, where we hope to find safety and rebuild our lives.🍉

From the depths of our hearts, we thank you for any support you can offer. Your kindness and generosity during these dark times will never be forgotten. Together, we can foster hope and pave the way for a better future. 🍉

A simple note, do not forget that a simple donation or contribution such as sharing my blog can contribute to saving the life of an entire family. I wish you safety and security.

OUR CAMPAIGN VERIFIED BY OPERATION OLIVE BRANCH (LINE 78)

SHARED BY :

@90-ghost ( HERE )

My thanks and gratitude to all

@imjustheretotrytohelp @dlxxv-vetted-donations @xinakwans @ender--slime @sketchingdemonss @juney-blues @weirdnoisen @tortuah @milfcutlawquane @carrionsong @transwolvie @knock-off-of-me @pika-blur @pleuvoire @poryphoria-rb @gaysebastianvael @weisscreamcake @devoidaffectu @gorillawithautism @nateneedssleep @mobstrider @autisticsupervillain @trinity-9139 @aubregine-extremelyd @moostashio157 @vampiricvenus @snubbll-blog @cfo-of-antifa @unfiltered-angst @girlinafairytale @onedollopofsourcream @anyonghalimaw @finalgirlabigailhobbs @denn1s-lessing @jo-evo24 @drixelite @karlloss @kokonemo @trooper-924 @sawasawako @jdon @warm-mangoes-with-chai @turtletoria @autisticmudkip @sakurai96 @greetings-fiends @mysharona1987 @chuunisoldier @a-shade-of-blue

[tojiscumdumpster]

⠀ ⠀⠀ "unwanted" MATRIMONY

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀byakuya kuchiki.

✧ summary to preserve the existence of y/n's clan, she is forced to wed the twenty-eighth head of the kuchiki clan—byakuya kuchiki.

✧ content warnings reader is described as a black woman who uses she/her pronouns. clanhead!reader x captain!byakuya. bleach verse au (no manga spoilers) byakuya is a noble, so they'll both be speaking as such. lowkey giving royalty au vibes. told in first POV — reader's. tropes included: arranged marriage, childhood rivals to lovers. usage of c*nt, missionary position, fingering, nipple play, praise and breeding kink, primal play, terms of endearment — blossom, my love, etc. plot with smut, fluff, and a touch of angst if you squint hard enough. lengthy, but the build up is worth it and necessary!

✧ author's note i don't have much to say, but here's to adding more bleach men to my roster. i knew i wanted to write for byakuya because that's my baby daddy, and now i finally have this idea i hope you guys enjoy. support me by reblogging, liking, and commenting your thoughts. i would greatly appreciate it. ♡ MINORS AND BLANK/AGELESS BLOGS - DO NOT INTERACT.

 I must make my days do, lazing around in my private chambers as I am bound to a marriage I wanted no parts of. Especially not with Byakuya Kuchiki. 

 Lord Byakuya, as he prefers me to call him.

 Because I am the current and possibly the final head of the L /N Clan, I am forced to complete my duties as such. Those duties entailed me following through with my grandparents final wish: get married and keep our family name alive. 

 Which I have no issue with fulfilling. 

 My dreams are filled with having children with a man that loves me. To extend our family and grow old together where our souls will find each other in another life. 

 However, I hadn’t planned my marriage to be an arrangement that I wasn’t aware of because of an agreement our grandfathers had prior to me being born. 

 It’s shocking, honestly. More so, ludicrous for them to think this was okay. But I just couldn’t deny my grandfather. Not when his palm was in mine, lacking its warmth that’s usually there due to his near passing. 

 I remember tears staining my cheeks and a smile gracing his when he made his final request for me. 

 That was two years ago. Now, I am married. Have been for almost a year and every day I dread my decision. 

 How could I possibly wed a man as cold as Byakuya Kuchiki? We barely speak. We sleep in separate chambers. The most we see each other is during dinner because it would be ridiculous to have the servants prepare us food at different times. But even so, the silence and tension always remains deafening.

 And to make matters worse, we have yet to consummate our marriage. 

 This is something I cannot possibly do on my own. He may or may not be attracted to me, and I am convinced to assume the latter because he never utters a look in my direction. 

 It’s shameful how he treats me. The words he spoke to me the night of our ceremony is a constant memory I do my best to forget but cannot. 

 I’m officially married. Not the way I expected to be, but what other choice do I have? Grandfather has died and I made a promise to him to marry and bear children to keep the L /N Clan everlasting. Even if that meant being forced into marriage with my childhood rival. 

 As we sit side-by-side next to each other, bowing and thanking all of our guests for their blessings, I feel the coldness radiating off Byakuya. Of course, one of us has to be graceful and fake smiles while greeting everyone, so I am left to the task. 

 Byakuya? He doesn’t hide how dissatisfied he is with how this night is going. 

 To an extent, I understand. Forcing to wed after the loss of his wife, Hisana, is not ideal. Despite it being centuries since her soul has passed, I’m almost positive the heartbreak is still present. 

 Maybe tonight reminds him of her? 

 “Byakuya—what is the matter? Is everything alright?” I inquired. I turn to face him and await a response. 

 The squareness of his jawline catches my attention and I think how it was carved by the gods themselves. I’ve known Byakuya since we were both children, and seeing the fine man he has grown into today never ceases to amaze me. 

 His profile is… beautiful. I’m mesmerized by the softness of his pale complexion and how it contrasts with the darkness of his raven colored locks. 

 The further I stare at him, the more heat floods underneath my cheeks and my mouth watering at the sight of his beauty. 

 But when he finally speaks, all of the emotions I’ve felt have completely diminished. 

 “Do you feel no shame being forced into a marriage where your partner feels nothing for you?”

 Since then, I’ve kept my distance from him. I remember the pain that pinged my chest when processing the words that left his mouth. I remember rushing to my chambers after the ceremony and crying until it felt like a million shards of glass were piercing them. 

 Yes, I feel ashamed. But I never expected Byakuya to be so direct with me. He’s certainly not the young boy I remember growing up with. Where we would make everything into a competition. 

 Our swordsmanship. Our knowledge. Our abilities. Whatever can be turned into a challenge for us, Byakuya and I competed. 

 That led him to be a captain of the Gotei Thirteen and twenty-eighth head of the Kuchiki Clan. And me, the twenty-third head of my family. I initially wanted to enter the Shin’ō Academy along with Byakuya, but I chose to stay with my family and oversee our medicine and agriculture. 

 However, even when he entered the academy, he always made time to see me because we were friends before any juvenile competition we made. 

 So why can he not see his wrongdoings in our marriage? Could he at least try for the sake of me fulfilling my duties? 

 All that keeps me company are movements of the servants coming in and out of my chambers, along with the river that flows past my view. 

 As always, dinner is silent. 

 Byakuya has returned to the manor after attending his captain duties, and this is the only time of day where I see him. He is stripped from his formal wear and has been dressed in a simple dark blue yukata that has specks of cherry blossoms scattered across the garment. 

 If I didn’t loathe him so much, I could take my time appreciating how handsome he looks while being in the comfort of his manor. His locks are released from the kenseikan he wears that symbolizes his nobility as the head of the Kuchiki Clan. 

 I occasionally steal glances at him while he eats, and yes, while I do despise being in this forced marriage just as he does, I can’t help but be captivated by him.

 My lady parts wouldn’t allow me to deny the attraction. 

 As I watch my beloved husband, I think of all the sexual acts I would like for him to do to me. Please me in ways I could only imagine he can do. Make love to me and whisper in my ear how breathtaking I am.

 When I look at Byakuya, I think of all the times I’ve spent time with Lady Kyōraku and she tells me how madly in love she is with Captain Kyōraku. How well he treats her, and even with his demands in his new position, they spend much quality time together. 

 She even graced my ears with a few details about a picnic session they recently had where it led to activities that typically aren't done out in public.

 I wonder if my husband will ever be reckless enough to do an act as obscene as that. 

 Not likely. 

 I hate quiet, especially while we eat together. What is the purpose if no words will be spoken amongst each other? No eye contact. No going to bed together after we have finished. Why? 

 Why am I not able to be served dinner in my private chambers? Surely, I can make a request for this going forward. 

 Or… perhaps there is a different way for me to get him to speak. 

 I take a sip of my cremè sake before clearing my throat. “How did your day treat you, my lord?”

 “It was fine,” he responds, flatly. Should I be shocked that he didn’t lift his chin when speaking to me? 

 “There is something I would like to discuss with you.”

 “It can wait. I’m not up for discussion at the moment.” His dismissive tone has annoyance leaching onto my flesh, and I feel like I am on the verge of exploding.

 “Perhaps it cannot. I would like to discuss something with you, my husband.” The authority in my voice grabs his attention and finally, he looks up at me and catches my hardened gaze. 

 He deeply sighs, sitting down his bowl of rice and chopsticks. “What is it?”

 “Maybe we should… begin the process of annulment.”

 His face remains calm. Expressionless, like I always remembered. Does he care enough to show a reaction to me asking for a cancellation of our marriage? 

 This shouldn’t be a difficult decision for him, so why is he taking his time to respond? 

 The longer I wait, the more his lack of response bothers me. It’s not similar to before, where the quiet was filled by the sounds of us eating and the servants coming in to check on us.

 No, it’s the silence where if he does not speak, I will make the decision for him and walk out and permanently leave the manor.

 I think of all the conversations I’ve had with Lady Rukia, his younger sister. And Renji, his lieutenant, about how I should be patient with Byaykuya. That, eventually, he will come around and warm up to me being his wife. 

 But how long?

 How long would it take for us to share a chamber? For us to act like we’re in this agreement together? For him to look at me with the same attraction I have for him?

 How long? 

 It possibly couldn’t be more than a year. 

 This is not the Byakuya Kuchiki I grew up with. No, I wasn’t in his life those five years he was wedded to Hisana due to my own family issues. Maybe I could’ve been there for him and witnessed his change that caused him to be so apathetic. 

 However, this cold man that sits before me… I don’t know who he is.

 “Is there someone else you’re interested in?” He finally speaks, breaking me from my musings. 

 I draw my brows together, confused at his accusation. “Are you… insinuating that I am having an affair?”

 “We’ve been wedded for a year. No acts of intimacy have been done between us. Now suddenly you—”

 “Because of you!” My voice roars, interrupting whatever nonsense that he was about to spew. 

 I refuse to allow him to put the blame on me for the stillness in our marriage. I have tried, time after time, and all I am met with is a man that constantly rejects any type of advances I attempt to provide him.

 So, I continue. 

 “I have given you a year, Byakuya,” I begin, standing over him. He looks up at me and again, his expression remains undetectable. “The day of our ceremony, I have accepted that I will be your lady, and on that night, I was prepared for consummation. But what did you do instead? Humiliate me in front of all our guests with your trivial question!”

 My chest heaves an adrenaline I haven’t felt in a while. Maybe even never, however, leave it to Byakuya to rile me up this way. 

 “If you or anyone thinks I will bear children with a man that looks at me with utter disgust, then you all are sadly mistaken.” Are my last words to him before I rush out the supper room, tears threatening to fall, reminding me of the night we wedded. 

 I feel like such a fool. Disgrace descends upon me and my mind quickly goes to my grandfather and the words he spoke to me on his deathbed. Be strong, child, and fulfill your duties as the current head of the L /N Clan. Bear beautiful children with Young Byakuya and fall effortlessly in love. 

 Oh, grandfather. What am I to do? I can no longer stand to be in this marriage. Not like this. 

 Not with Byakuya. 

 By this time already, I had returned to my chambers and began preparing for bed. I allowed my emotions to get the best of me tonight, so some sleep will do me good. 

 But my suggestion of annulment will continue in the morning. 

 Just as I was moisturizing my body, a knock at the door interrupts my nightly routine and I immediately grow annoyed. 

 I know it isn’t one of the servants checking on me. They know when I don’t want to be bothered with. So that leaves the man that’s responsible for my current state of mind. 

 Ignore him, I say to myself. He’ll think I’m asleep and eventually leave. But no. He barges into my chambers, unannounced, and shuts the door behind him. 

 “Excuse me. I don’t recall giving you permission to en—”

 “Do you think this is easy for me?” He asks, paying no mind to my protests. “Being… married to you.”

 I turned my back to him and continued with the task I was doing before he interrupted. “Save me the boredom and keep it to yourself. No need to further remind—”

 “For a year… I have been… fighting these emotions. These… feelings that have been forming in my chest at the thought of you being my lady.” His admission shocks me… but I remain quiet and stare at him intently through my mirror and allow him to finish. “Do you wish to know how I feel about you, Lady Y/N?”

 My chest slowly heaves up and down and I hold eye contact with him. “How?” I breathed. 

 “You interfere with my routine. Daily… weekly… monthly. Just the thought of you has my mind spiraling.” He moves closer to me with every word he speaks. “A noble. A clan head such as myself, loses all sense of control with just a whiff of your scent. Your jasmine scent that drives me utterly insane. I simply cannot act with honor when I’m around you, so I purposely choose to ignore you.”

 “But… why?” I questioned. 

 “Because you are you, my lady. You may think I don’t keep my eyes on you, but I do. All day… every day. I… watch you sit by the river and simply smile at the sight of nature. From a distance, I hear how kind you are when you speak to others. It’s… enchanting.”

 I slowly release a breath and swallow a thick gulp. “So why is that you don’t speak to me? If I’m, as you stated, enchanting?”

 “Speaking is not what I wish to do with you when we are alone,” he admits. Arousal rushed between my legs at the true meaning of his statement. 

 “It is hard for me to believe that you have an attraction toward me, Lord Byakuya.” As if my words triggered him, he takes long strides to close the distance between us. 

 “Perhaps it’s because you do not look at me the way you look at others. I, too, should be questioning your attraction toward me.”

 I stand to meet with him, but fail miserably due his tall frame towering me. Still, I stand firm with my gaze. “Others such as who?”

 “Shūhei Hisagi,” he deadpans. 

 “You’re being ridicu—”

 “That smile… Your eyes… The look you give him… you have never looked at me that way before. He personally delivers the newsletter to our manor, which he doesn’t have to, but he does for you.”

 “Are you… jealous? Of the small interactions I have with Hisagi a few times throughout the week?”

 It is hard for me to believe that the honorable Byakuya Kuchiki himself is getting flared up over a platonic friendship between Hisagi and I. 

 Sure, there may be a chance he feels more for me than I know, judging by how his cheeks stain a light pink color when he delivers the newsletter. 

 But in no shape or form do I feel the same way, and I would never stoop as low as stepping out in my marriage. Even if my husband treats me like I am a fly on the wall. 

 Though, now, as he stands before me, slightly flustered, nostrils flaring, and a pinched expression—Byakuya is in fact—jealous. 

 I do not know how to feel about this, but I do know it is better than the distance I was getting before. 

 “Does this,” he grabs my hand to slip between us so I can feel his hardened erection, causing me to suck in a breath, “feel like I hold no attraction to you?”

 “Byakuya,” I barely said above a hushed tone. 

 He presses his forward against mine, whispering, “Everyday… I curse myself for these feelings I have for you, to the point where I attempt to avoid you yet fail horribly because I can’t help but watch you from afar.” His hand gently runs up and down my arm, and this bit of contact burns warmth to my flesh. 

 “I feel wrong. Felt, wrong for having such feelings for you, knowing my late Hisana has passed away. I thought my heart went along with her illness, however, you returned to my life unexpectedly.”

 I lick my lips before asking, “Are you saying you… love me, my lord?”

 “I desire you, my lady. Crave you in ways that make me want to act animalistic.” His lips ghost over mine before he falls to my neck and inhales heavily. “I’ve always wanted to know what it is like to have you on my tongue. To hear you beg for me to give you more than what I am giving.”

 “My lord… please.” 

 He shushes me. “Your beauty is beyond words. I have… never seen a rich, deep, golden brown complexion such as yours. You hold yourself with grace, but I know you’re a minx underneath these silk garments.”

 He begins trailing faint kisses along my flesh until meeting with my face once more. I stare at him and take advantage of his ash-colored hues that resemble the sky on a cloudy day. 

 I don’t recall ever being this close in proximity to Byakuya. I’m enthralled by the smoothness of his skin and the color of his lips that reminds me of a thousand cherry blossoms. 

 I want to kiss him. I, too, also want to know what it feels like to have the taste of him on my tongue. Just—

 “May I kiss you, Y/N?” The octave of his voice, slightly lower than usual, breathy with a touch of desperation… it does something to my core. 

 His cheeks flush red and my eyes widen at the sight of him. It feels like this is a fantasy, a moment I thought I would only see in my dreams. He is completely vulnerable, stipped down to where he forgets the formalities and calls my name. He is like this for me because of me. 

 When he is like this–I do not loathe him.

 “You may.”

 Byakuya gently presses his mouth against mine, our lips merely touching as if he is skeptical about what he is doing. He pulls back to look at me and I know desperation is shown on my face. And I know he feels the same.

 How he engulfs my arm with his hand, applying immense pressure to show his desire for me tells me so. 

 My breaths are staggered. I’m thinking, what will he do next? Will he turn around and return to his chambers, regretting this moment ever happened? No. He does not. 

 He caresses my nose with his, breathing me in before meeting with my lips once more. 

 This time, he cuffs my face and deepens our kiss. My hands latched  onto his wrist to hold him in place because I will not allow him to show any skepticism once again. 

 Byakuya takes his time exploring my mouth, but a touch of eagerness is shown when his tongue slips inside of me to get more. Heat hums throughout my body and I feel wetness pooling between my thighs due to the lack of under garments I am not wearing. 

 Is this what it feels like to kiss him? Is it normal for my limbs to grow weak? As if he read my thoughts, he sweeps me off the ground and wraps my legs around his waist. Our heads move side-to-side in unison while we devour each other’s grunts and moans. 

 We head in the direction to my futon and ever so lightly, he lays me down and pulls away from me. 

 “Strip for me.” His order is soft but filled with dominance I can’t be anything but submissive to. 

 I untie my silk robe, slowly until it falls off my shoulders and bares my body. His eyes… where I know Byakuya to be calm and collective during battle, right now a beast rages through him, and I am his prey that he is ready to feast on. 

 My legs spread, revealing my sex that is moist beyond measure. A growl forms in the pit of Byakuya’s stomach and it spreads chills down my spine.

 He palms my breasts while gazing at me and I shudder from his touch. I could believe that this is in fact a dream, but it is not. 

 No longer than a second later, and he pinches my nipple between his fingers. 

 “My lord,” I softly cried, arching my back. 

 “You are art, Y/N.”

 “Address me as your lady,” I demanded. 

 “Apologies, Lady Y/N.” He leans forward to press a quick kiss to my lips. “Is there anything else you would like for me to do?”

 “Strip for me as well,” I instructed, teasingly. 

 His yukata drapes low on his hips and I am met with his slender build. Squared shoulders. A trimmed waist. And an abdomen where I would enjoy rubbing my wetness along that leads to what will bring me pleasure tonight. 

 He stands to completely remove his garments and my mouth floods at the sight of him. His groin, hard and veiny, drips liquid that I’m yearning to taste. 

 Byakuya, as expected, is well trimmed, but leaves just enough hair, perfect to my liking. 

 He’s much larger than I imagined. A size I need time adjusting to, that’s for certain. 

 “Am I up to your liking?” He quips. 

 I hum, tugging my bottom lip between my teeth. “Perhaps.”

 The smallest chuckle, almost faint, escapes his mouth. “Perhaps…” He mocks, catching onto the lie that I uttered. 

  He kneels down before me and sucks my lower lip into his mouth while he widens my legs even further to bring pleasure to my cunt. Those slender fingers, so long and delicate, slip inside of me and I mewl at the slight intrusion. He massages my walls as if he is exploring, attempting to familiarize himself with how I pulsate around his fingers. 

 I break our kiss to moan his name, and my lord takes advantage of the opening to plunge his tongue in the back of my throat and sink deeper into my cunt. 

 I never expected Byakuya to be well equipped with his fingers this way. Those same fingers that are used for battle are currently being used to bring me to my release. 

 Soon, his lips find the valley of my breasts where he leaves bruises on my flesh with teeth. I whimper so pathetically, shocking myself at the sound that leaks from me. 

 He sucks on my nipples greedily, like a starved man that’s hungry for his lover, and this time, I let out a moan of his name. 

 “Byakuya…”

 He looks at me through his lashes and firmly grips my breast. “Remember, my lady. Address me as your lord.”

 “I am sorry, my lord. Please… I can no longer wait. I want to come.”

 “Where is that fire that was present earlier? Begging?” I clench around his fingers at the sound of him taunting me. 

 He flickers his digits quicker inside of me, pulling such obscene noises from my cunt that mingles with my moans and his praises in my chambers. 

 Byakuya, this time, does not kiss me. No, instead, he ogles me and gently holds my chin in place where I am forced to watch him deliver me a release I’ve been waiting a year for. 

 There was a time where I thought he didn’t have an ounce of attraction to me, and now here he is, pleasing me in a way I haven’t been before. 

 “Oh, Lord Byakuya… I… I’m about to come. I feel a release coming,” I purred. 

  “But I have barely touched you, blossom.”

 I latched onto his wrist and rolled my hips to meet his fingers thrusting inside of my cunt. “I—I know. I’ve been waiting for this… for so long.”

 “You’ve fantasized about me bringing you pleasure?” I nod, causing a small smirk to form on his lips. “Tell me more, Lady Y/N. What else do you want? Would you like my shaft inside your tight cunt?”

 “Yes.”

 “Tell you how breathtaking you look while being filled with me?”

 “Oh, yes. Yes, Lord Byakuya.”  

 The faintest, most gentle kiss is placed on the side of my mouth and I feel the tension at the bottom of my stomach unraveling.

 “Are you prepared to bear my children? To have my come flooding your cunt until it drips out?” He ghosts over my ear. “Will you take me?”

 “Bya… kuya…” My orgasm suddenly crept onto me and I’ve created a mess on his hand. 

 I throw my head back and moan to the gods above. I can’t stop shaking and he continues to pump his fingers inside of me. 

 For a year I thought this man loathed me, but tonight I am proved otherwise. 

 Lord Byakuya has described himself as a madman when he is around me, and it is shown when he doesn’t permit me the time to come down from my release before guiding his cock to my entrance. 

 I look between us, anticipating the moment he enters my body and wondering how I will take him. 

 He attempts to push himself inside, but is met with interference and clicks his tongue. Frustrated at the constriction of my cunt because his cock is aching to feel my walls. 

 “I see she is as stubborn as you are,” he taunts. 

 I slyly smirk at him. “Giving up—Ohh…”

 Byakuya does not allow me to finish my retort before giving me one long thrust between my folds to completely stuff me. My brows knits together at the slight intrusion and hint of pain that’s mended by my wetness. 

 I’m… stretched. How could he fit? He’s so… big. Large. I feel his veins pleasurably grazing me when he slowly begins to pull in and out. My cunt molds around his cock like he’s all she knows and I gasp with every movement. 

 My thighs are pushed back so he could see all of me, to see how I’m swallowing him whole. He swears underneath his breath and seeing Byakuya so vulnerable like this has me pulsating. 

 “You… are amazing, my lady. This cunt of yours… It's perfect,” he declares. “For a year you have been keeping this from me?”

 “More, my lord. Give me a bit more.”

 “So desperate for my come, are you?”

 I eagerly nod and grip his forearms to take his pounding. He wastes no time acquiescing to my request, increasing his thrusts to pull such lewd noises from me.

  I’m almost embarrassed by the loudness of my dripping sex. I’m practically making a mess on my futon and I’m mortified that the servants will need to replace my sheets. 

 Again, his mouth and hands are back on my breast, sucking and circling my nipples until they ache. Byakuya alternates between the two to show equal amounts of love and I have never felt so overwhelmed.

 He drives into me with so much passion while marking me with his teeth and alleviating the pain with his tongue. 

 “When I breed you, you will be completely mine, my love. You will be full of me, carrying my child,” he rasps, rutting into me with more force. “How many will you give me?”

 I gasped. “As many as you want, Lord Byakuya. Just please… make me come again. I feel it approaching.”

 “So come for me, blossom.”

 His thrusts are harsher than before. The head of his cock repeatedly presses my sweet spot and I feel the spark of electricity tingling in my lower back. My breasts are still occupied by his mouth, but they move obnoxiously with the rhythm of his poundings. 

 I cry his name, scream to my lord how wonderful this feels and tears prick the corner of my eyes. His free hand that was on my breast moves to thumb my clit to aid with my near release. 

 Byakuya moans soon joins mine to tell me how my cunt squeezes his cock, nearly strangling. And if it were to lose circulation, I would be the cause. But does he not feel how he throbs inside of me? 

 How he hopes to breed me so we will be bound for life? 

 “You asked me earlier… if I love you. Would you still like to know?”

 “Yes, Byakuya. Tell me… do you?”

 “I do,” he simply answers. “Since the day I saw you staring at the river and smiling at the water flowing. How could I not love you?” He brushes his lips across mine and lowers his voice. “How could I not love you after having you like this? Having your beautiful body, every dip and curve bare underneath me?”

 “Lord Byakuya… I’m coming.”

 “And you sound beautiful when my name drips from your lips. Continue calling me your lord until I have filled you with my come.”

 Over and over, he rocks into me at a frenzied pace, causing my orgasm to burst out of me. Tears stain my cheeks and arousal prickles my flesh from my overwhelming release. However, Byakuya does not let up until his thrusts are uncoordinated, indicating his own climax.

 Coming together as lovers for the first time after our ceremony has me seeing stars in my chambers. His load… it’s heavy. Hot and sticky. It mingles with my own come and creates a mess between us.

 Lord Byakuya, too, is a vocal lover. He comes down from his own release and whispers how ethereal I am. How he would never grow tired of pleasing me and filling my cunt. 

 But it’s the delicacy of him brushing my coils away from my face and placing soft kisses on my cheeks that causes my heart to skip a beat. 

 An hour has already passed, and we have been basking in each other’s presence. His embrace is comforting. It provides me with a warmth that was well needed to fill the coldness beside me when I slept alone at night for the past year. 

 “I’m sorry,” he says, breaking the silence. 

 I know the reason for his apology, but ask anyway. “For what, my lord?”

 “For the discomfort I have provided you since our engagement. You didn’t deserve that… Before anything, you were a dear childhood companion of mine and I treated you horribly.”

 His kind words move me. I place my palm against his cheek and look up at him. “We can discuss it some more later on. For now, I would like to enjoy your company. Is that okay?”

 He kisses the top of my head and pulls me further into his arms. “Of course, my lady… Of course.”

thank you for reading. reblogs, comments, and likes are well appreciated. if you enjoy my work, please be sure to check our my masterlist for more. ෆ

[craykaycee]

GOAL IS MET!!!

Thank you all for the support <33 the rest of the original post is under the cut

Greetings, friends. This isn't for me, it's for my friend @tyladoesthings who I met at my local tech school in-person. We both really wish this wasn't necessary, but things have gotten- difficult.

In short, she has been saving and raising money to move out of her family's house, getting to a safe space in a different state after she had a near un-closeting scare back in April. Yesterday, however, she got into a car accident. She's okay physically, but all of those savings are going towards repairs. Her original plan was to get out of there in about 2 weeks, but now that plan is in jeopardy.

Here is a doc of a letter going into more detail about her situation [embedded link, not updated w/ recent info] and you can help support her [in any small way, anything is super helpful] down here:

It also gives more recent info on the state of things. If you can't help out, we'd be super grateful if this was spread around by reblogging. I'm worried for the safety of my friend, especially with her asking me to make this post here because it feels safer for her than on her own blog. She's too kind of a soul to have all of this thrown at her... Please help bring my friend to safety.

In addition, I am doing doodle requests for any contributions over $10

just send a screenshot of the proof to my inbox and I'll cross-check that w/ my friend Tyla [please keep requests SFW]

[rieamena]

lucky—

kenji sato —

based off this req (thank you nonnie 😓)

- - -

kenji had been eagerly anticipating this moment for days. he paced around the living room, checking the clock every few minutes. today was the day he would introduce you to emi, the baby kaiju he had been raising. he wanted everything to be perfect. when you finally arrived, ken greeted you with a warm smile and a hug. "hey, i've got a surprise for you," he said, his eyes twinkling with excitement. you followed him through the cozy house, curiosity piqued. "what kind of surprise?" you asked, smiling at his enthusiasm. kenji led you into the elevator, his hands over your eyes, to the lowest floor of his house. as he walked behind you, making sure that your steps were steady, you could hear soft, curious rumblings. when your vision was no longer obstructed, you saw her. in the center of the room stood emi, her large, curious eyes blinking down at you. despite her imposing height, her demeanor was a mixture of innocence and wonder. "this is emi," ken said softly, watching your reaction. "emi, this is [name]."

emi's eyes widened with curiosity as she took in your presence. you approached her slowly, feeling a mix of awe and excitement. "hi, emi. it's so nice to meet you," you said gently, your voice echoing slightly in the vast room. emi's eyes flickered between you and ken, before finally settling on your figure. she looked down at you all doe-eyed, and you melted. reaching up and placing a hand on her smooth, warm scales, you whispered softly, "she's adorable…" kenji watched you both play and interact, a look of pure joy spread on his face. "i knew she'd love you," he said, his voice filled with pride and relief. you looked up at him, hands occupied with holding one of emi's finger nubs, your heart swelling with emotion. "she's amazing, ken. you've done such a great job raising her." his expression softened, and he came over to stand beside you and emi. "i couldn't have done it without you," he admitted, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. "your support means everything to me."

emi, sensing the close bond between you and kenji, nudged you gently with her beak, her large eyes shining with affection. she let out another contented rumble, clearly enjoying the attention. you laughed again, feeling a deep connection forming. ken's eyes sparkled as he watched emi's reaction to you. "she really does love you," he said softly. "i've never seen her this happy with anyone else. i'll admit, i'm feeling a bit jealous." kenji put his hand to his chest in fabricated betrayal. "what? sad that you have to fight for her love now? you already had to fight for mine, what's one more?" the two of you shared silence, the only thing that was heard was soft hums from the kaiju. blinking at each other, you both doubled over in laughter, giggling even more when emi joined in. both of you gave emi a hug—one that didn't fully close—

and as you looked between your boyfriend and his daughter, you wondered, how did i get so lucky?

- - -

one request down! six more to go‼️

—

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[froggibus]

Hay, I recently found your stuff on here. I really like your writing. I'm not really sure how the request works? I hope i'm doing it right:)

Can you do DC characters/Batboys finding readers self-harm scar's/marks and how they react

(I've struggled with self-harm off and on for a long time, and at least for me, I've kind of like thinking about how my favorite characters would react/try and support)

Also, if you do, can you do some about Mark some on the thighs. it's hard to find stuff about other then on the arms

Im dyslexic, so I'm sorry if this doesn't make sense.

Leaping Into The Light - Batboys + Wally West

Pairing: Dick Grayson x reader, Jason Todd x reader, Tim Drake x reader, Wally West x reader

Genre: hurt/comfort

Word Count: 1.4k (Dick), 1.3k (Tim), 1.5k (Jason) and 1.2k (Wally)

Summary: their reaction when they see your old self-harm marks/scars

CW: mentions of self-harm (past), self-harm scars (thighs mostly), awkward conversations, embarrassment, mental health, allusions to depression and suicidal thoughts, injury & blood (not from SH), insomnia, nightmares, Wally walks in on you changing, maybe some corny dialogue, mentions of sensory problems, recovery and healing this is at least the second fic ive wrote where Jason brings you chinese food--no clue why.

hi lovely, hope you're doing alright :) so sorry its taken me so long to get to this, january was a bitch for me. i also struggled on and off with self-harm before starting this blog, so writing this was incredibly personal to me <3 thank you for requesting, and i want you to know that my inbox is always open if you ever need to vent i really wanted to go for a more recovery-based fic where you're healing. i wanted to show that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, it does get better, we do recover. you will be okay.

Dick:

It’s a rare, sunny morning in Bludhaven when you wake up and stretch your limbs. The sunlight filtering through the window catches on the bare length of your arms, casting brilliant patterns across your skin.

A newfound warmth filters through your apartment as you pad across the wooden floors and make your way to the kitchen. The sunlight seems to follow you, dancing across walls, door handles and cupboards as if saying hello.

The sight of Dick Grayson hunched over a laptop greets you at the kitchen island, his black hair almost brown in the morning light. 

He offers you a sleepy smile, “I made coffee.”

Your eyes move from his pyjama clad figure to the fresh pot of coffee sitting on the counter, tufts of steam still flowing from its spout. A smile breaks across your face, your eyes falling shut as you inhale the scent of fresh coffee.

Yeah, it’s going to be a good day.

Dick watches you from over the rim of his ‘World’s Best Detective’ coffee mug, blue eyes tracing your figure as you shuffle around the kitchen.

Dick watches as you cut open one of the croissants you’d picked up from the bakery yesterday and slather it in a generous coating of butter. He watches as you open the cupboard above the coffee machine, the one where you guys keep your dishes, and stretch up on your tippy toes to reach your favorite mug. 

This is his favorite part of any day—watching you. The soft domesticity of the morning blankets him, soothes him. It’s his daily reminder that there’s still good in the world around him.

His eyes stay on you as your fingers brush the handle of your mug, tugging it towards you little by little. He watches as it slides to the edge, your fingers just barely grasping it and—shit. He watches as the mug falls from the cupboard, shattering on the edge of the counter into a dozen pieces, the largest of which embeds itself in your leg. 

Everything happens so fast, you barely have any time to react. The ceramic shard slices through the leg of your pyjama pants and you keel over, clenching the skin of your thigh. The pain is searing and carries an unfortunate familiarity that has tears bubbling up in your eyes.

Dick’s at your side within seconds, an arm wrapping beneath your shoulders to keep you steady. “Are you okay?”

“I think so.” You suck in a breath and risk glancing down at your leg, noting the splotch of red starting to soak through the fabric of your pants.

A sigh slips from your lips. So much for today being a good day.

Dick’s hand wraps around your own, positioning your fingers on either side of the wound. “Here,” he says calmly, “try and apply as much pressure as you can.”

Dick guides you to the bathroom with a steady confidence that only someone who’d trained under Bruce could have. He helps you onto the bathroom counter, your legs splayed out in front of him.

“Keep applying pressure,” he commands. 

You watch as he ducks beneath you, rummaging through the cupboard to pull out the first aid kit you’ve seen him use countless times. A weak laugh bubbles up inside of you—usually it’s the other way around. 

Dick holds up the kit triumphantly, dark strands of hair bouncing as he stands. He fixes you with a grin that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, the familiar blue filled with concern.

You force a smile despite the aching skin of your thigh. “It’s not as bad as it looks,” you assure him. “It's just a flesh wound.”

It’s not the physical pain that has tears pricking your eyes and thoughts racing around your head. No, it’s the reminder that comes with it. The flashbacks of nights spent entirely alone, of nights where the world was too quiet and your thoughts were too loud. 

Dick exhales in what seems to be a laugh, the tension in his shoulders falling. “Alright then,” he rubs his thumb along the seam of your pants, “let’s get these off before they get stained even more.”

You’re quick to agree, if only to not make him worry even more. You scoot to the edge of the counter and let Dick hook his thumbs into your waistband. The action is so casual but so intimate, and it has heat rushing through you.

The warm air of the apartment meets the bare skin of your thighs and Dick’s hands still. Realization flashes through you and by instinct alone, you grip the fabric of your pants and try to force it back up your legs. Dick catches your hands in his, gripping them just tightly enough to keep you from moving.

The pain of your wound is forgotten, replaced by a sudden surge of embarrassment. Your gaze lingers on your thighs, on the scarred skin that reminds you of the hardest time in your life.

Your mouth is impossibly dry as you force yourself to look at Dick. You expect disappointment, that annoying older brother look you’ve seen him use a thousand times. You’re wholly unprepared for the softness in his gaze, the kindness and warmth that radiates off him.

“Dick,” you say softly, ready to explain yourself. “It’s not…I’m not—”

You’re thankful when he cuts you off.

“You don’t have to explain yourself.”

You scrunch your nose. “But—”

He brushes a thumb across the faded marks, his touch delicate and firm. “It’s alright. I know what these mean.” A new intensity flickers through his eyes, but as soon as you see it, it’s gone. “Let’s get you patched up.”

Dick kneels down and gets to work soaking up the blood while you stare at his working hands in confusion. You’d told him before about the hard times you went through, the mental state you were in.

That was part of the reason you moved in together—so Dick could help you and keep a better eye on you. But you’d never told him about the self-harm or the scars that speckled your skin.

Yet, his reaction is so normal it has your head spinning.

He finishes wiping up the blood and gets to work disinfecting it. The rubbing alcohol stings but the burn is quickly snuffed out by polysporin.

“It’s been a while.” The words tumble out before you can stop them. “Sometimes I still think about it, miss it, even. That probably sounds strange but…it’s hard sometimes.”

Dick glances up at you but says nothing. 

“I-I have bad nights sometimes, and it’s all I can think about. But it helps. Living here with you, I mean. It helps.”

Dick secures a thick piece of gauze over the wound, patting it gently to ensure it stays in place. “You don’t have to hide it, you know.”

“I know, but—” You sigh, letting your eyes flutter shut. “You already have so much on your shoulders, with work and your family and…other things. The last thing I want to do is weigh you down even more.”

He rests his hands on your thighs and levels you with a serious look. “That’s ridiculous. The only thing that would hold me down is knowing that you’re hurting alone. You’re so incredibly important to me, how could you ever think you’d be a burden to me?”

“I don’t know, I just—”

“I want to take care of you, I want to help you.” He traces circles across your skin with his thumb, “I don’t want you dying in the dark, y/n.”

Tears prick your eyes once more, a heavy warmth settling into your chest. “Dick…”

“C’mere.”

He pulls you into his chest, settling between your legs at the counter. One of his hands wraps around your neck, petting the back of your head slowly. 

“Just promise me this,” his voice is soft. “If it gets bad and you need help, promise you’ll reach out. Call me, come to me—whatever. We don’t even have to talk about it, just let me help you. Please.”

You nod quickly, burying your face further into his chest. Don’t want you dying in the dark, his words echo inside your head. 

Within the warmth of his arms, you can’t help but feel that this is a step forward, and with Dick by your side, you’ll be leaping into the light in no time.

Jason:

It’s midnight when Jason Todd comes banging on your door, takeout bags in hand. Despite the late hour, he still sports his day clothes—grey cargo pants and a black compression shirt over a pair of combat boots.

Setting your book down on the couch, you stumble to the door as quickly as you can, if only to keep his incessant banging from waking your neighbours. You swing the door open and raise an eyebrow, silently demanding an explanation.

“Hey.” He holds out the takeout bags for you to take, “have you eaten yet?”

“At midnight on a Saturday? Yes.”

In spite of yourself, you reach out and take the bags from his hands. You shuffle back into your home, gesturing to him to follow after you.

Jason shuts your door behind him and locks it in one, smooth motion that has you wondering if he’s been here one too many times. You try not to dwell on it, just like you try not to think about how easily he finds a spot on your shoe rack—the same one he always uses—and seats himself on a stool at your counter.

Jason watches while you unpack the takeout, cardboard contains billowing with steam lining your counters. The scent of fresh Chinese food fills the room, a heavy sort of comfort settling over it.

“So,” you say, propping yourself on your tiptoes to reach the last container in the bag, “what brings you over?”

He shrugs, his broad shoulders falling heavily. “Haven’t seen you in a while. Just thought I’d check in.”

A frown flashes over your face but you quickly mask it with a tight lipped smile and a nod. It has been a while, and any hope that Jason wouldn’t notice is immediately snuffed out. 

“I’ve had a lot on my plate.”

It’s a half-truth at best but you’re not quite sure what else to say, how else to explain what you’ve gone through lately. 

Jason squints, examining you. If it was anyone else, they might not have noticed something was wrong. They probably wouldn’t notice the shadows beneath your eyes, or the slight shake to your hands as you bring out plates and cutlery. If it was anyone else, they’d probably believe you.

But Jason doesn’t.

You get to work dishing up a plate, sucking in a breath when Jason sidles up next to you to dish himself up. The sudden proximity has the breath leaving your body and heat climbing the back of your neck. God—how long has it been since you touched another person? Since you’ve seen another person?

You force the feelings down and finish grabbing your food, making your way to the couch you’ve been rotting on for days. A small stack of books and a few empty glasses scatter the side table—clear evidence of your struggle.

Jason sits at the opposite end of the couch, balancing his plate on his lap. You don’t miss the way his eyes skim over the room, taking everything in. He takes a bite of his fried rice but his blue eyes remain on you.

He clears his throat. “That’s a good one,” he points with his fork at a romance book near the bottom of your pile. “A little racy for my tastes, but the worldbuilding was insane.”

“Something’s a little too racy for you?”

“Hey,” he rolls his eyes, “believe it or not, I do have standards.”

Joy swells in your chest and threatens to bring tears to your eyes. You’ve shut yourself away for so long, you’d almost forgotten what normalcy feels like. But this? You and Jason, eating takeout and talking about books on your couch? That’s the most normal thing in the world to you. 

You snort. “Sure you do.”

“I do!” He protests. “I loved the first four books, but that one? My god. Half the book was just them going at it.”

You laugh, your chest aching with longing. You missed this, god, you missed this, One minute you’re laughing over Jason’s review and the next you’re sobbing, fat tears rolling down your cheeks. Your voice cracks, a horribly cry ripping free of your throat.

“Woah, woah.”

Jason’s voice is soft, a beacon of light in the sudden storm of emotions that’s gripped you. He sets his plate on the coffee table, scooching down the length of the couch to your side.

“I don’t, I can’t—” 

“Hey,” he says calmly, taking your half eaten plate from your hands and setting it on your side table. “It’s alright. Shh, it’s alright.”

You let yourself slump into the couch, your feelings eating away at your physical strength. Jason throws an arm around you, pulling you into his side. The warmth of his body floods you.

You sob and Jason speaks, though you don’t quite catch what he’s saying. The world around you fades to a mosaic of tears and sorrow and guilt. Your heart is so heavy in your chest you worry it might fall out and drag you down with it.

“Talk to me,” Jason says softly. “Please.”

A calloused hand lifts to your cheek, wiping away wet tears. You want to give in to his touch so bad, give into what he’s saying. But how can you take his comfort when you’ve avoided him for weeks? When you’ve pushed yourself so far away that it feels like there’s no hope of coming back?

You tear yourself away from his grip, forcing yourself to your feet. Your hands shake as you turn to face him. When your eyes meet, his are filled with something entirely new to you—concern.

“I-I can’t.”

He sets his jaw. “Why not? You’ve been away from me for so long, you’ve been avoiding me,” he forces himself to keep his voice level. “I just want to know why. I just want to help you.”

His sudden pleading tone has you freezing in your tracks. You look at him seriously, “swear?”

“Swear.”

You sigh and slip your fingers into the waistband of your sweatpants. For a second, you clench your fists, trying to ground yourself. The world around you seems to still as you tug your pants down, shimmying out of them until they lay in a pool around your ankles.

Jason watches silently, his head cocked to the side in visible confusion. It’s only when you self-consciously rub a hand over the skin of your left thigh does he notice.

The breath leaves his body, his lungs squeezing so tight he’s afraid they might burst. He’s no stranger to scars—he has at least a few dozen himself—but these are entirely different. 

The scars scatter the surface of both thighs, long and thin. Most are completely healed, some just barely finishing the process. The size, the shape, the distance…intentional is the only word that comes to mind.

Jason feels his heart break in his chest but he can’t bring himself to look away. You’re hurt—you’re hurting, and he can’t do a damn thing to help. “Y/n,” he says softly.

You shrink beneath his gaze. You can’t think of a single time he’s looked at you like this—scared and worried and broken. It has the guilt rising in your throat once more, threatening to suffocate you.

“I’m better,” you try to assure him, your voice hoarse from crying. “I’m getting better. It was bad but—I’m getting better now. I-I’m okay. I swear.”

You wait for him to say something, anything. You wait for the anger, for a lecture about how stupid and dangerous this can be. You wait for him to scoff at your problems. 

You’re utterly shocked when Jason falls to his knees in front of you, head tilting up to look at you with an expression you’ve never seen before.

“Jason…”

“This is why you’ve been avoiding me?”

You nod slowly, as if moving slower will keep the ice from breaking.

“Fuck, y/n, why didn’t you—god, you should know that I of all people would understand.” He traces a finger across a particularly fresh scar, “this isn’t something you needed to hide from me. This isn’t something you ever have to hide from me.”

“I—”

“I’m not finished.”

You’re taken aback, the words ripped straight from your mouth. 

“Let me help you. Come to me and let me help you. Don’t shut yourself away in the dark and suffer all by yourself.” He runs his fingers through his hair, cracking the ghost of a smile, “god, who are you, me?”

A half-laugh, half-sob leaves you. “I just don’t like bothering people.”

“You think you could annoy me? You overestimate yourself, y/n. The only people who annoy me are Waynes and Wayne-adjacent.”

He rises to his feet in front of you and tugs you into his chest before you can react. His grip on you is tighter than usual, the warmth of his arms threatening to consume you. 

“You’ll come to me next time you feel this way, yeah?” He says, and he feels you nod against his chest. “Swear?”

“Swear.”

Tim:

Your chest burns as you sit up in bed, lungs heaving as they try to force some air into your body. Your ribs ache from the way your heart hammers against them.

Rubbing your aching eyes, you force yourself to swing your legs over the side of your bed and reach for your lamp. The light comes on with a click, illuminating the walls of your room. Finally, you manage to take a deep breath, the cold air soothing your burning chest.

It was just a dream. You’re safe here. But the words taste bitter and empty, the images you’d seen while you were asleep still spinning around your head. You rub at the exposed skin of your thighs where the seam of your shorts come to an end. The friction barely manages to warm you among the cold night air.

Before you can even think, your feet are meeting the ground and you’re padding across the room. You hesitate for just a second when your hand meets the door handle, but the hesitation melts into need and you continue on your way.

Your steps are quiet through the hallway, unimposing. When you find yourself facing the closed door, identical to yours, you knock softly. Once, twice, and then the door is swinging open.

Tim stands on the other side, bleary eyed and messy haired from sleep. He yawns, covering his mouth with the back of his hand. “Hey,” his voice is raspy, “everything alright?”

“I can’t sleep.”

It’s all you have to say before he’s opening the door as wide as it goes, gesturing you to the disheveled navy covers of his bed spread. The sleepiness fades from his body as he watches you closely, examining your every movement.

Your eyes are red-rimmed and sweat beads along your temples. Despite wearing pyjamas—patterned shorts and a t-shirt that looks suspiciously like one of his—they don’t look wrinkled with sleep like they should be. 

Tim frowns. Something’s wrong, and it’s more than not being able to sleep.

He shuffles in after you, closing the door and clicking the lock behind him. His examination continues as he reaches the bed and crawls in next to you. You fit together so easily, so perfectly, it’s hard to believe this is the first time you’ve ever sought him out.

In all the time you’ve known each other, never once have you ever gone to Tim when you can’t sleep. He’s known about your sleep problems for a while, from even before you’d told him. Yet, never once have you asked for his help.

Until tonight.

Tim’s arms fall easily around you, one gently across your waist, the other falling on the side of your thigh. You’re so tired, so shaken from your dream, your head falls easily into his pillows and your eyes flutter shut. 

It’s not so much sleep that hits you as much as it is contentment. Tim’s hand trails up and down the side of your thigh, fingers exploring the soft skin while he tries to soothe you to sleep.

His hand shuffles sideways, just a tiny bit more, and then pauses. His fingertips graze something rough, something raised slightly, and the breath leaves his body. His hand trails further and he’s met with another, almost perfectly parallel to the first.

No, it can’t be.

Trying not to startle you, he moves the arm around your waist as slowly as he can. His fingertips make their way up his own body, finding their way to the scar on his abdomen from when he lost his spleen. He swipes his thumb over the area, feeling the rough patch of raised skin.

His other hand trails over your thigh again, feeling the rows of similar skin. For a moment, he swears the world stops turning.

The feeling is unmistakable, and even though it’s dark and he hasn’t laid eyes on them, he knows exactly what they are.

He wraps his arm around your waist once more and pulls you closer. “Y/n,” he whispers.

You whimper, the exhaustion weighing heavily on you. Tim’s hand rubs over the scars on your thigh once more, and suddenly your weariness is replaced with an icy feeling in your veins.

You sit up abruptly, forcing your body away from his. 

“Y/n.”

You gasp, looking up at him through teary lashes. You draw your knees into your chest, the pressure helping soothe the sudden cold in your chest. You bury your face between your knees.

The longer Tim stays silent, the worse your anxiety gets. You wait for the familiar cold logic, for the warmth to fall away and the sarcastic, callous detective to show up. You expect it any second.

But Tim does something that surprises you even more.

He wraps an arm around you, letting your head lean on your shoulder, and murmurs, “how long has it been?”

It takes a few seconds for you to gather your bearings and realize what he’s asking. You blink a few times, slowly unfurling your body. Though you know it’s too dark for him to see the scars, you see his eyes fall on your bare thighs anyway.

“A while,” you admit. “It comes and goes.”

He rubs his hand up and down your arm. “Is that why you came to me?”

You swallow, remembering the horrid dream you’d had earlier. “Partially.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” 

The pet name takes you by surprise, washing away the cold shame that threatened to drown you. You relax further into Tim’s side, relishing in the heat of his body.

“It’s not as bad as it seems,” you say quietly. “I know it’s bad, that I shouldn’t do it. And I try not to. I’ve been really good about that lately. It’s just…”

Tim stays silent as you trail off, trying to find the right words to explain yourself. He keeps rubbing the skin of your arm, as if reminding you that he’s still there.

“Things get hard sometimes. I don’t like asking for help, because I don’t want anyone to think less of me, or think I have problems and—”

“Why would anyone ever think less of you?”

His words stun you out of your speech, every thought you had falling away. You take a few deep breaths, letting them echo around your head.

“God, this is so hypocritical of me but,” he sighs, “there’s nothing wrong with needing support or asking for help. You’re not any worse off because you needed a little comfort on a bad day, you’re not a burden just because you’re hurting.”

“I just—”

“You came to me tonight because you needed comfort, right?” He gestures around the room, “did anything bad happen because of that?”

You shake your head.

“Did I question you at all, or make you feel like it was a problem?”

Realization dawns on you. “No.”

“That’s because it’s not a problem, you’re not a problem. It’s okay to feel what you’re feeling, but the first step to feeling better is helping yourself.” He offers you a sleepy smile, “and that’s what you did tonight. You helped yourself by asking for help.”

“Tim…”

“I’m really proud of you for coming to me tonight, y/n. Whether it was consciously or not.”

A stray tear rolls down your cheek, his kind words washing over you in waves. 

“Keep coming to me when you need it. Let me shoulder your problems with you. Please.”

The sudden plea catches you off guard and suddenly more tears are falling down your face. You wrap your arms around Tim and let your head fall into his shoulder, burying your face into the side of his neck.

He holds you tighter, letting you cry it all out.

Wally:

The sound of rain on your window seems to taunt you as you struggle out of your soaking wet jeans. The fabric sticks to your skin, chafing as you try to force it away from the chilled skin of your legs. 

As if the sudden torrential downpour that had ruined any hopes of a morning breakfast run wasn’t bad enough, now you seemed to be forever trapped in your sensory nightmare—wet denim. A groan of frustration leaves your lips as you abandon your jeans and instead tug away the sopping fabric of your t-shirt.

Goosebumps rise across your damp skin the minute the air touches it. You shiver slightly and wrap your arms around yourself, stumbling across the room to find a sweatshirt.

You settle on one you’d stolen from Wally months ago that you’re partially convinced he’d stolen from Dick. Still, the worn cotton warms your skin as you make the trek across your room and to the full-body mirror resting against a wall. 

You use the guidance of your reflection to peel away your jeans, shimmying awkwardly until finally the heavy fabric gives way. They land in a wet plop on the floor, splattering water that you can’t be bothered to clean up.

Just as you turn away from the mirror, one of the shiny scars on your thigh catches the light and draws your attention back to it. You frown, pulling the marked skin of your leg tight, examining the scars in the mirror. 

Most are small and thin, luckily not bad enough to leave more than a faded, dark mark on the skin. You cringe at the ones that are worse—raised and puffy and shiny in the centre. They’re still healing, you remind yourself.

“Hey, no way you’re still changing in here—” the door clicks open and Wally’s voice trails off.

You whip your head to him, watching as he stumbles into the room. A flush falls across his face. His eyes trail over you, tracing your figure, falling onto your underwear and the uncovered skin around it.

Wally freezes, green eyes glued to the scars you’d just been examining. His brows scrunch together, his lips twisting into a frown.

Oh, goddamn. 

Any other time, Wally would feel mortified—and somewhat blessed—to walk in on you changing. He’d cover his eyes and stumble around awkwardly, mumbling out some goofy apology laced in innuendos. 

It’s clear now from the frown on his face and the hard set solemnity in his eyes that that Wally is gone. 

He’s at your side before you can react, falling to his knees in front of you. “Are you alright? Are you hurt? Did someone—”

His words trail off, his face falling as realization dawns across his features. He traces a thumb across the biggest of the scars and you swear you see tears prick at his eyes.

“Wally, it’s not—”

“It’s not what?” He looks up at you seriously. 

And you pause, reconsidering your words. Wally’s always been the kind one, the goofy one, the comedic relief. It’s rare that you see him serious, rare that he wavers like this.

You lower yourself to the ground beside him, cringing at the unpleasant cold meeting the bare backs of your legs. Wally keeps his focus on your thighs, fingers tracing over every scar, every mark, like he could somehow erase them.

You stay entirely still next to him, letting him calm himself with your touch. “It’s not really something I do anymore,” you say quietly.

His hand stills, the warmth of his clammy palm resting on your upper thigh. In any other situation, it would feel intimate. But right now, all it feels like is a slap to the face. 

“I still have bad days, but I manage. This,” you gesture to your skin,“was a last resort. I know it looks bad, really bad, and that it probably seems so—so stupid compared to what you face and—”

His voice is barely a whisper. “It’s not stupid.”

You scrunch your nose. The normal, goofy Wally you’d just gotten caught in a rainstorm with is gone, and you’d give anything to bring him back right now. 

“You don’t have to be a superhero to be hurt, y/n.” He clasps your hand tightly. “I know I joke a lot but I am capable of being serious. Especially when the people I love are concerned.”

He looks at you so intensely when he says the word love that it sends shivers down your spine. You can’t bear to meet his gaze. His hands find your waist, tugging you to sit between his legs. It scares you how easily you settle into him, how well you fit together.

You sit in silence for a moment, letting the beat of his racing heart thump against your back.

“I can’t stand to see you hurt, or know that you were hurt. Emotionally, physically, whatever.”

“I’m doing okay now,” you offer him a weak smile. “It’s rough sometimes, but I’m okay now.”

His shoulders slump slightly, but his jaw remains clenched in an un-Wally way. You can’t help but wish in this moment that you could have his powers, if only so you could run to the past and stop this from happening.

“You could’ve told me. I might have made a few stupid jokes but you could’ve told me. God, I want you to tell me. I want you to want to tell me.”

“Wally.”

“I want to help you, y/n. Always. Please,” he sighs, “please, want my help. Let me make you want my help.”

And for a moment, you see a glimpse of an awkward teenager. You see a yellow costume and a scared kid just trying his best to help people. To save people. You see sleepless nights and the burden of a power that makes him both the fastest man alive, but never fast enough to save the people who matter most to him. To save you.

“I just don’t know where to start,” you admit quietly.

He wraps his arms tighter around you, crushing your body against his. “You start here. You start today. You start with me.”

You cross your arms over his in what you hope is a gesture of affection. 

“Say the word,” he leans in so his mouth is only inches from your ear, his voice dropping an octave, “and I’ll be there for you as soon as you need me. Ask for my help and I’ll be there in, well, a flash.”

You can’t help but laugh at his pun. It’s dumb and silly and so unserious for such an uncomfortable, serious moment. But it’s Wally and it’s you and his joke has you thinking that maybe, maybe things really can be okay.

“I care about you so much. All I want is for you to be happy. Got it?”

“Got it,” you echo.

He plants a soft kiss on the top of your head before loosening his grip on you, rising to his feet. He offers you a hand, helping you stand up.

“Now,” he grins, “let’s say we forget the pants, and order in some breakfast, hm?”

thanks so much for reading! ^^

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[minniesmutt]

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☾ ━━━ PAIRING: LEE KNOW X READER ☾ ━━━ CONTENT: READER IS STRESSTED AND BREAKS DOWN CRYING, COCKWARMINGM SUB!READER, SOFT DOM!MINHO, CRYING, NOTHING REALLY SPICY, SUB DROP, MENTION HANDJOB AND FINGERING ☾ ━━━ WC: 0.6K ☾ ━━━ repost from old blog ☾ ━━━ 18+ work!! minors and ageless/blank blogs DNI! you will be blocked, put an indicator on your blog somewhere that you are 18+ before interacting with this work/blog

     Minho hated seeing Y/n upset. Y/n hated how perceptive he was to her feelings. Even when she tried to hide her stress. Minho knew though. He always did, even when he was busy with his own life. 

     He knew all the signs of her stress building and building. He never made her tell him, just did little things to help her out and lessen the stress she had on her. 

     Minho made sure he got off and home before her tonight. He’d sensed she was about to hit a breaking point all week. He picked up some things from the store on his way home to cook her favorite. Knowing she was probably worrying about it while working. 

     He started cooking right as he got home, their playlist playing through the apartment. He kept an eye on his phone in case she texted him. Nothing came until the front door unlocked as he was finishing up. 

     “Min?” Y/n questioned as she slipped her shoes off, hanging up her bag and keys

     “Kitchen,” Minho called back. 

     Y/n joined him in the kitchen as he made a plate for her. 

     “Hey kitten,” he greeted her and gave her a peck on the lips.

     “You made dinner?” Y/n noticed 

     “Yeah. Got off early so I figured why not and that you probably didn't wanna cook tonight.” he wasn’t telling her he planned his whole day around making dinner for her. 

     But either way, the gesture had her tearing up. Minho noticed and pulled her in for a hug— the straw that broke the camel’s back. Y/n held onto his shirt as her tears started flowing. Minho did nothing but comfort her, rubbing her back, kissing her head, etc. 

     “I’ve got you kitten,” Minho helped guide her over to their couch. He sat down and pulled her onto his lap. Just letting her cry it out into his chest for a while. 

     When the whines turned to hiccups he called out to her. “Look at me kitten.”

     Y/n peered up at him. Eyes all puffy from crying. His heart hurt for her. He hated seeing her upset. 

     “Do you wanna eat?” he offered

     “‘M not hungry.” Y/n wiped her eyes

     “What do you want kitten?” His hands held her thighs and rubbed circles into the fabric of her bottoms that covered her skin. 

     “Can I… cuddle with your dick in me?” Y/n hiccuped

     “Of course baby.”

     Mingo didn't dare make her do any of the work. He pulled her bottoms off and wet his fingers. He worked her open just enough for it not to be uncomfortable when he slid in, while he pulled his cock out of his sweats and pumped himself till he was hard. 

     Y/n laid her head against his chest. Minho knew she was on the verge of dropping. He saw it in her eyes. Once he was sure they were both ready enough, he slowly sank her onto him. Y/n wrapped her arms around his neck as her walls parted for him.

     Minho rested his hands on her ass as he bottomed out in her. 

     “Thank you,” Y/n mumbled

     “Of course kitten. Wanna tell me what’s wrong?”

     And so she did. There wasn’t a reason not to. Minho was her safe space after all. his warm hands rubbing her skin as she ranted about everything that had been going wrong. Tears started up in certain parts of her babbling, and Minho made sure to wipe the tears away. Reassuring her everything was gonna be better and that he was with her to handle stress with her

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[judesmoonbeauty]

Jude Jazza’s 2nd Birthday: “The Cursed Moon Within His Merciless Arms” Epilogue POV

This is a fan translation. 100% accuracy cannot be guaranteed. Please expect grammatical errors and lack of nuance. Creative liberties were taken in order for a smoother translation. Cybird owns everything. Re-blogs are appreciated, but please do not repost or claim my translations as your own. Thank you for your support! ☾⋆

MDNI. NSFW.

Victor: Welcome back, Jude!

It was late at night when I returned to Crown castle after finishing up work at Raven Co.. That’s when Victor greeted me.

Jude: …..Why’re ya still up?

Victor: Why of course, to prepare for your birthday party tomorrow, Jude! …..

Victor: …Oh, look the date has already changed. JUDE, HAPPY BIRTH—

Jude: —Hold it.

Victor: I can’t even give you my wishes? ….That makes me feel so lonely.

Jude: Already gotta prior engagement with ‘em words.

After I rejected him, I thought back to the conversation I had with Kate before I left for work.

[Flashback]

Jude: I’ll be back late t’night.

I don’t share my schedule with others unless it’s necessary.

…..However, my birthday was tomorrow, and she asked me about my schedule a month in advance in order to celebrate it.

She’d been counting down the days, so I felt like I owed it to her to say something.

Kate: Oh, really….?

Seeing Kate look disheartened, guilt that I thought I’d long lost, started to surface.

Kate: ….Um, well, I just have one favor to ask, Jude.

Kate: I want to be the first to wish you happy birthday, so I want to come back to your room no matter how late it is.

Kate: If you sleep at Raven Co., your employees might be the first to tell you…

Kate: Oh, but I’m not saying you have to do it. Just only if it’s possible……

Kate said that with a pasted smile on her face.

It was obvious that she was trying to suppress her feelings so she wouldn’t burden me.

— A woman who understands circumstances, or a woman who doesn’t understand circumstances.

If you ask me which one is better, naturally it’s an understanding woman who stays in her lane.

(But…what’s this?)

(I reckon it’ll be fine to listen to some of the selfish stuff she asks.)

Jude: …..Can’t make no promises, but I’ll try my best.

Kate: Really? Thanks, Jude!!!

[Flash Back Ends]

Remembering Kate’s bright smile, like a moon emerging from the clouds,

I parted ways from Victor towards my room, my pace a little quicker than usual.

When I returned I could tell Kate had waited for as long as she could, having fallen asleep in the chair.

(…..Whadda pain.)

I picked Kate up and carried her to the bed,

The line actually reads that he picked her up behind the knees. Essentially, he princess carried her. However, I felt this is already implied and opted to leave it out.

And then I quickly fell asleep thinking about the wishes Kate would say to me when she woke up.

When my birthday arrived, it was a crazy day.

In the morning, I wasted time dealing with a group of weaklings trying to kill me off,

And that afternoon, Crown celebrated my birthday with a song….

It was late in the evening when I was finally alone with Kate.

Kate: Ohh….Jude…..it feels so…..good…

When I bit into her throat and drove myself deep inside her, Kate clung to me looking blissed out.

When I saw that look, I swallowed hard.

I wanted to make her feel even better, to mess her up even more. To drive her even crazier……A violent need surged throughout my body.

(…..Am I a kid who gets turned on for seein’ my girlfriend gettin’ excited?)

Kate’s tearful eyes, her knitted brows as she tried to endure, her melted expression as she comes…..

I got excited by Kate’s expressions as our bodies melded together,

Just like a boy falling in love for the first time.

Jude: ….That so?

I replied bluntly as I cynically laughed internally at my own immature feelings, when Kate’s eyes flickered anxiously.

Kate: Jude……?

Jude: ……

Jude: …….Ain’t no way I’m gonna strain yer body by tanglin’ up with ya if it don’t feel good.

I gave a round about reply and then slowly moved my hips further forward.

As I dragged against each of Kate’s favorite spots, she let out sweet, soft moans.

However, even though she was completely absorbed in pleasure, Kate didn’t stop asking questions.

Kate: Jude, I…..feel so good…right now….I’m losing my mind….

Kate: Can you….say it more clearly….?

(….This woman’s way too worried if I’m feelin’ good or not.)

All she needed to do was surrender herself to the pleasure I was giving her, but she wanted both of us to feel good.

Each time that happened I felt this itchy sensation deep in my heart, like it’d been tickled by a feather…..

I could feel the presence of the thing called love.

(….Feels even weirder answerin’ without thinkin’ it’s a hassle.)

Jude: Guess ain’t no gettin’ ‘round it…..

Jude: ….Feels good, Kate.

Kate laughed as I brushed her bangs away from her sweaty forehead, and kissed her softly.

Kate: Hehe….hey, Jude….

Kate:……To be honest , I was hoping on your birthday, you’d say “I like you” or “I love you”…..

Kate: I kind of thought you’d say it….

Kate: But….this is plenty for now.

As if to say that she understood all the feelings I couldn’t express,

Kate smiled contentedly and caressed my cheek lovingly.

Illuminated by moonlight, Kate glowed brilliantly….giving the illusion of the moon falling from within reach.

(….Beautiful.)

Kate: ….Oh! But…..you can say them whenever you feel like it, okay? Words of love.

Jude:….If I feel like it.

When I brushed it off Kate pouted in dissatisfaction, and immediately I pressed my lips against hers.

In surprise, Kate tried to escape, but my tongue captured and entangled with hers.

(If I don’t say things like “I like ya” or “I love ya”, you’ll keep chasin’ me for ‘em.)

Just as I chase and cry for the moon, you can chase and cry for me too.

Just keep chasing me under a curse that will never be broken for all time.

I have no intention of telling her that….and I can’t let go yet.

Kate: Mmmm……Jude…..

The voice calling me in between kisses, dissolved all of my sense into a puddle.

Jude: …..Ya might’ve had ‘nough, but I ain’t had ‘nough.

Kate: Mm….the present?

When I attended Crown’s birthday party for me, Kate gave me a tasteful fountain pen as a gift.

It was chosen to match the same diameter of the pen I normally used,

'A tasteful fountain pen' was repeated in this line, but I dropped it because I felt it was redundant.

I’ve no intention of nitpicking about it now, and if you asked me to return it, I wouldn’t give it back.

Jude: Haven’t had ‘nough of ya .

Kate: Huh…..Oh!

I resumed the flow from earlier, and as Kate whimpered sweetly I bit her over and over again, sucking her up.

As I etched red marks into her skin, leaving behind traces of our love-making, Kate moved like she was trying to escape.

Jude: …..Oi, whadda tryin’ to run for?

Kate: B-because….if you leave marks there, I won’t be able to cover them with clothing…..

Jude: Tch…..yer tryna hide it now?

I was surprised that my retort carried a sulky tone to it.

….However, Kate didn’t notice the tone of my voice, but kept staring blankly at me.

Kate: …..Is that okay?

Jude: Is what okay?

Kate: Well….if the Crown members see it tomorrow morning, they’ll say something about it, right?

Kate: Jude, you seem bad with that sort of thing…..

Just as Kate said, some of the Crown guys might tease me if they saw the hickeys.

Or maybe they’ll just look on and not give a lick.

Jude: It’s fine ya don't do that…….Were ya avoidin’ me ‘cause ya were frettin’ over that?

Kate: …..Yeah, but if you don’t care Jude…..

Kate: Then I want you to leave lots of marks on me.

Kate:….Oh, I’m asking you to do everything again.

Jude: ….There’s nothin’ wrong with that.

You were the first to give me birthday wishes, kicked out those gits who attacked me, chose a gift that made me happy,

Called out to me with a soft, sweet voice, accepted me in deepest parts of you, and wanted to cater to me.

…..Kate might think it’s only natural since it’s my birthday, but it’s not just about getting someone to do something for you.

Jude: If that’s whatcha want, I’ll engrave ‘em on ya ‘til ya hate it.

This cursed, cursed night was far from being over.

[Story Master List] [Birthday Letter] Dividers: @.natimiles @.cafekitsune

PLEASE, he is SO SWEET. The way he's slowly noticing emotions in himself that he thought no longer existed, and the fact that he can feel the presence of love inside of himself (when he feels that he out of all people wouldn't, and feels it's suffocating overall.) Ugh, I can't wait to see his character growth over time. And that BLUSH when he admits he hasn't had enough of her!

Tags List: @sh0jun @theimaginativelyreticent @sapphire-323 @velisle @nateko @greatwitchsongsinger @injudescoat @complexivelovely @cosmowgyrall. @lunaaka @rosalyne08 @8the-perfect-lie8 @voydsoul

If you wish to be added to my tags list and are 18+, then please comment below and specify which suitor, or all translations!

[starrydragoness]

Pairing: Blade x Fem!Reader

Content: soft cockwarming, minors/ageless blogs DO NOT INTERACT

A/N: wrote this for a friend like last year, so may not be that good like my new writing. Hope you enjoy this regardless!

◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ Mellow sighs of the wind washed over your bare back while your chest was kept warm, pressed up against his own. His bandaged hand had rubbed up and down your back countless times in the last hour or so that you two decided to use for a more intimate reprieve. This would be the first mission the two of you were sent on that was just the two of you, and having completed the main objective and the overall mission, the two of you found that you had quite some time left to indulge in more selfish desires.  It was that period of time where Blade was at the peak of pure exhaustion, barely standing atop his own feet as he rounded up the mission and concluded that the mission was over with and Elio's script was left empty until the next "play". You could see it in his eyes and the way his tone was like a rusted knife, yet none of its harshness was directed towards you.

Why would it? You are the only thing helping him live through this day, and the next, and the next after that. He had no way of thanking you for all of it, even if the reprieve of it all was always short lived. So he tries to remain in the moment of the current time, with you so warmly pressed up against him, his cock buried in your warm, welcoming cunt and his mind at an ease. He'd occasionally grind up against you, only to send a warm buzz of pleasure up both of you before going still again.

The static buzz of pain still remained in his mind but it was so distant and far away that he barely even took notice of it as he relished in the hands that brushed through his locks. His head was tilted back, neck supported by the cushions and pillows that made him feel warm for once. You have kissed his neck repeatedly over the span of the last hour, showering him in the soft and gentle kisses that he could drown in. His hand would cramp every now and then, causing his motions to halt and for him to wince - prompting you to ask each and every time whether he was okay. And he was, he told you that. His lashes fluttering open to greet you in the warmth they still managed to retain over the years of hell he survived in. Then after another moment he’d bring his hand up to your nape, bandaged fingers gently massaging before applying more pressure so you’d lean in closer, close until your lips could press softly against one another. The kiss lingers, and he repeats the motions languidly a few more times until he feels like your worries got quelled for the time being, and then his hand returns to your body, massaging your hip and sliding up and down your back in slow circles. 

And when you'd buck against him he'd make it a point to keep you still, wishing, needing to hear you whine and plead and scold him to let you move to chase your high.

It was only a matter of time until he lost his senses and pounded you into the mattress.