#i’m disappointed there’s not more content for him

[mclarengf]

thinking about… trying to bake with daniel ricciardo

note: if danny ricc has a million fans, i am one of them. if danny ricc has ten fans, i am one of them. if danny ricc has only one fan, then that one fan is me. if danny ricc has no fans, then that means i am no longer on this earth. if the world is against danny ricc, then i am against the world. (happy holidays!!)

—

it’s christmas eve and daniel has instigated a food fight. you’re supposed to be making a pavlova to bring to his parents’ house tomorrow, but daniel’s seemingly decided that flicking meringue onto your face three times in a row is a good idea.

he looks away every time, whistling as if he’s done nothing wrong. you narrow your eyes at the back of his head, waiting for him to crack.

“what’s wrong, love?” he turns back and questions why you’ve stopped mixing the meringue batter, though his mouth twitches when he sees your expression.

this time, you stay silent, glaring at him.

finally, he laughs, eyes crinkling as he throws his head back. you wait for him to finish, crossing your arms and frowning.

daniel hiccups another laugh out and steps toward you, hands up.

“it was funny, you gotta admit,” he tries defending himself.

“i hate you sometimes,” you retort.

his face drops and he clutches his hands over his heart, “ouch, love!”

“oh, shut up, danny,” you sneer at him as you turn your attention back to the meringues, mumbling a, “cunt,” under your breath.

you can feel when he comes up behind you, warmth radiating off his body even in the summer. he wraps his arms around your shoulders, dropping his head down too.

“i love you~” he sings, trying to get back on your good side.

you say nothing.

you can practically hear him pout in your ear, disappointed in the fact that his actions have consequences.

“c’mon babe, it was just a joke! it’s christmas eve, you can’t be mad at me! i’m sorry!”

when you still don’t respond, daniel takes his arms off you and resigns himself to keep cutting up the fruit.

when he’s settled back into a rhythm of doing that, you scoop some of the mix onto your finger, reach over, and smear it onto his cheek before running to the other side of the kitchen so he can’t catch you.

“aw, you-“ he grins again, bright as anything, and lunges at you, chasing you around the island and through the living room as you giggle.

he finally tackles you into the couch. the smudge is still on his cheek.

“you’re silly,” you scrunch your nose up at him as you catch your breath.

daniel just smiles, admiring you beneath him.

“i love you,” he tries again.

“i love you too, dummy.”

he then collapses on top of you, holding you tight in his embrace. it’s nice; it’s like a weighted blanket which walks and talks and happens to be very annoying sometimes. you melt into his arms, and reach around to hug him back.

daniel’s always been your safe space, and you’re able to be that for him too now, with him being home a lot more than he had been in september, for some strange reason.

you don’t want to let his mind drift back to his career predicament with too much silence, though, so you nudge him and tell him to clean off his cheek.

instead of grabbing a washcloth, or a paper towel, or something sensible, daniel just runs his finger through the meringue and sticks it in his mouth.

you make a face at him, expressing your disgust. you can see the bits he’s missed still sticking to his skin.

“that tastes so good, baby. it’s gonna bang tomorrow night.” he looks at you in awe of your baking skills before dropping back down onto your shoulder. he’s obviously content with staying like this.

fine, you can cuddle for a while, you guess. the pavlova’s not going anywhere.

wait- the pavlova.

“fuck, danny, the meringue’s gonna go flat!”

you scramble off the couch and back to the kitchen so you don’t ruin joe and grace’s christmas.

when daniel comments on how the pavlova looks kind of funny at dinner the next night, you just kick him under the table and say he must be imagining things.

[tarohugs]

to my first (l.jn)

►idol!lee jeno x reader

► angst (of course), childhood bff jeno, slightly toxic jeno (or very...)

► w/c 1.0k

►a/n not very long but wanted to feed you guys something since i've been so inactive. sorry for all the jeno content but i know y'all will enjoy

“Grow up y/n. It’s time we move on from this.”

Jeno is your childhood bestfriend. Or, was, your child bestfriend.

After he moved to Seoul to pursue his journey as an idol, he managed to keep some contact with you. This didn’t last for long though. With the strenuous hours he was instructed to train and schooling, he had little time for communication. Of course, this broke your heart as a teenage girl, but you moved on regardless as time progressed.

Today, you meet with Jeno as he came home for the first time in years for Christmas break. The company always gave him little time for rest and insisted that he spend holidays in Seoul to maximaze his training. When you heard Jeno was coming back, you were ecstatic to rekindle.

You had hours of news and gossip to fill Jeno in. Although your relationship was not what it used to be, you were adults and were aware that this would occur. As a result, you tried to keep contact with Jeno and follow up with him when time allowed.

You were always the first one to reach out to Jeno, however, you were quite disappointed when he failed to tell you himself that he would be visiting home. Why would Jeno not tell you? You had just assumed the best - he was going to surprise you.

The surprise you had in mind was much different then what he actually brought home. Jeno had a girlfriend.

She is beautiful. Her style was feminine and clean, right up Jeno’s ally. Her figure was delicate and contrasted the falling pursuit of snow that surrounded her as she and Jeno held hands, walking to the doorstep to greet his family.

His family had invited you over, ecstatic to see you two reconnect after years of little contact. Jeno’s family had always been fond of you, teasing that one day you would be their in-law. Of course, you denied all accusations. You and Jeno were nothing more than friends and he made that extremely clear as he introduced everyone to his girlfriend, Yena.

Everyone looked at you when Jeno had presented his relationship, but you couldn’t help but smile. You were happy for Jeno, you had to be. Jealousy wasn’t a pleasant emotion, you had to avoid it, even if it were calling your name.

You couldn’t compare to Yena. Everything about her was perfect. You understood why she was so lucky to claim Jeno as hers. Even when you two made eye contact, nothing about her read as insecure knowing you were Jeno’s bestfriend.

As dinner time approached, you tried your best to converse with him, but to no avail, he was too busy catching up with the rest of his bloodline. You were confused to why Jeno had never told you he had a girlfriend, not that he needed to, just some form of updates would have been acceptable. Reaching to sit in the chair next to Jeno hoping that this would be your opportunity to catch up with the boy, you were immediately swatted away. He claimed the spot was saved for Yena, fair game.

Instead you sat by his cousins on the opposite end. You were disappointed. Extremely disappointed. Jealousy couldn’t even cross your mind, just anger. Anger for the boy that promised you so many things when he was young. Angry that he didn’t even care about your existence.

This isn’t the Jeno you know. You had to get him back - which is what led you to the conversation you were in now.

“Grow up y/n. It’s time we move on from this.” Jeno had stated harshly once you finally had time to speak with him privately.

Tears threatened to spill from your eyes, but you were stronger than this. “Jeno, I just don’t get it. Why don’t you care for me anymore. I get that you have a girlfriend and I’m happy for you. But can’t you at least care for me a little?” You had spilled your true feelings for Jeno, all except your actual romantic feelings about the boy.

Of course you had liked him when you were younger, that’s just how girls and boys act when they’re kids. Even as you grew into adulthood, you moved past your small crush. But part of you will always hold a place in your heart for the boy that first earned it. Lee Jeno.

“Listen, I don’t know what’s gotten into your head. We were just kids that grew apart. We were never bestfriends after I moved away. We’ve talked no more than 10 times over text, is that what a bestfriend is to you?”

Ouch. Jeno offered no sympathy. You had reached out many times to try and catch up with him. He was always the one to ignore you but you excused his actions for his busy work schedule.

How had you missed so many signs he was giving you? For the first time, you felt defeated. For the first time, Jeno had failed to make you feel respected. He hated you.

You had no words to offer Jeno. All you wanted was to curl into a ball and cry away your sorrows. But you couldn’t. You would have to give an explanation to the rest of Jeno’s family for your early departure and reject Yena’s continuous motions to become friendly. You couldn’t do that to the rest of them, even Yena, the girl that you should detest.

Jeno noticed you were at a lost for words and offered to end the conversation there with a single phrase. “Look y/n, I don’t know what is going on in that head of yours, but I need to get this through. We’re adults and you need to act like it. Our relationship from us being kids stopped as soon as I moved away, you know this. You never mattered to me, get that through your head.”

Lee Jeno had just broken your heart. He was the first one to give you butterflies and he was the first to cause heartbreak. He had managed to do it all.

Even through all of this you couldn’t deny, Lee Jeno will always be remembered as your first love.

[gensideas]

CHOICES WE CANT UNDO.

summary. y/n relapses at a party, only to be surprised by a disappointed rafe.

content * advisory. relapse. alcohol. drugs. pills.

The music thumped through the walls of Topper's mansion like a heartbeat, pulsing with life and energy. I stood at the edge of the party, a drink in hand, feeling like an outsider in my own skin. The laughter and chatter of my classmates, the booming bass of the music, enveloped me, yet I felt strangely disconnected. It had been a long time since I’d been in a place like this, surrounded by the shimmering lights and the intoxicating allure of what I once loved.

“Y/n! You made it!” Topper’s voice sliced through the noise. He appeared out of the crowd, a wide grin plastered on his face. His sandy blond hair glinted under the strobe lights, and for a moment, I couldn’t help but smile back. “Yeah, well, I couldn’t let you throw a party without me,” I said, forcing a lightness into my tone. My heart sank a little as I spotted the familiar faces of our friends, all of them looking carefree and oblivious to the weight I carried. “Come on! Let’s get you a real drink. This party needs some life!”

Topper grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward the kitchen. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, cheap cologne, and something sharper that made my stomach twist. I should have turned back, but the pull of nostalgia was strong. As we reached the bar, I caught sight of Rafe across the room. He was leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, a frown etched on his face.

I had missed him so much during my time away, but the sight of him now filled me with dread. How could I explain why I was here? Why I had chosen to come back to this chaos, even when I knew I should stay away? “Hey, Y/n! You’re looking good!” Kelce’s voice broke through my thoughts. He leaned against the counter, a smirk playing on his lips. I couldn't help but notice the way his eyes darted toward the stash of pills he had tucked away in his pocket. My stomach churned again.

“Want to have some fun?” “No, thanks,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m good with just a drink.” “Come on, don’t be boring,” he teased, but I saw the glint of something more in his eyes. “It’s just a little pick-me-up. Everyone’s doing it. You’ll feel amazing!” I glanced at Topper, who was busy pouring himself a drink. “I really don’t want to,” I insisted, my voice firmer this time.

The last thing I needed was to indulge in the very thing I was trying to escape. “Suit yourself,” Kelce shrugged, but I could see the disappointment flicker across his face. I turned away, trying to focus on Topper. “Did you see Rafe?” I asked, my voice quieter now. “He looks upset.” “Yeah, well, he’s been a little tense lately. You know how he is,” Topper replied, pouring tequila with a flourish. “But you’re here now, and that’s what matters. Let’s get this party started!”

He held out a shot glass, and I took it, feeling the weight of it in my hand. “Cheers?” Topper’s grin was infectious, and I found myself raising the glass. “Cheers,” I echoed, but my heart wasn’t in it. I downed the tequila in one go, the burn of it igniting something deep within me.

“See? That’s the spirit!” Topper laughed, and I forced a smile, even as the familiar ache of temptation coiled around my thoughts. “Hey, how about we dance?” Topper suggested, pulling me toward the living room. The music was louder here, the crowd thickening like a wave crashing against the shore.

I swayed to the beat, my body moving almost instinctively, but my mind was elsewhere. I saw Rafe again, standing like a statue, and the way he looked at me—disappointment layered with concern—made my heart race. “Hey, you alright?” Topper asked, noticing my distraction. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I’m fine,”

I lied, forcing a laugh as I stepped back from the crowd. “I just need some air.”

“Okay, but don’t disappear on me!” he called after me, but I was already weaving my way through the mass of bodies toward the back patio.

The cool night air hit my face, and I leaned against the railing, breathing deeply. The stars twinkled above me, distant and serene, while down below, the party raged on. I closed my eyes, letting the chill seep into my bones, mixing with the heat of the tequila still burning inside me.

“Y/n?” Rafe’s voice cut through the silence, and I opened my eyes to see him standing a few feet away, his expression a mix of relief and frustration. “Hey,” I said, my voice small.

“Why did you come back here?” His words were clipped, and I could feel the tension radiating from him.

“I thought… I thought it would be nice to see everyone,” I admitted, avoiding his gaze.

“Nice? Or dangerous?” He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing. “You know how these parties go. You shouldn’t be here.”

“I can handle it,” I protested, but even I could hear the uncertainty in my voice. “Can you?” he challenged, crossing his arms. “You just got back from rehab, Y/n. You’re still fragile. This isn’t the place for you.”

“I’m not fragile,” I snapped, irritation bubbling beneath the surface. “I just wanted to feel normal again!”

“Normal?” Rafe laughed bitterly, shaking his head. “This isn’t normal. This is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Maybe I just wanted to have some fun for once!” I shot back, anger flaring.

“I’m tired of being treated like a fucking delicate flower.” “Fun? Really? You call this fun?” His voice rose slightly, and I could see the muscles in his jaw tighten.

“You’re putting yourself at risk, and I can’t stand by and watch you throw it all away.”

“I’m not throwing anything away!” I yelled, frustration boiling over. “You don’t get to decide what I can handle!”

“Maybe not y/n, but I know you,” he said, his voice lowering.

“I know how hard you’ve fought to get here, and I don’t want to see you lose that battle.”

For a moment, we stood there, the tension thick between us. I could feel the weight of his words, the truth behind them, and it made my chest ache.

“Rafe…” I started, but he cut me off.

“Just promise me you won’t do anything stupid tonight. Promise me you’ll stay away from Kelce,” he said, his voice firm but laced with concern.

“I promise,” I said softly, but in the back of my mind, doubt lingered.

“Good,” he replied, his shoulders relaxing just a fraction. “Let’s go back inside. I don’t want you out here alone.” As we stepped back into the chaos of the party, I felt a rush of warmth at his presence beside me.

But as the music thumped louder and laughter echoed off the walls, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was teetering on the edge of something dangerous.

The night wore on, and as the alcohol flowed, the lines between fun and recklessness blurred. I tried to keep my promise, but the temptation was like a siren’s call. “Hey, Y/n!” Kelce appeared again, a few friends trailing behind him, their faces flushed with excitement.

“You’re missing out! Come on, just one little hit. It’ll make you feel amazing.” I hesitated, my heart racing. Rafe was watching from a distance, his eyes locked on me, a silent plea in his gaze.

“I told you I’m good,” I said, shaking my head.

“Don’t be a buzzkill,”

one of his friends chimed in, laughter bubbling around us. “Just try it!”

“Seriously, Y/n, don’t be like that,” Kelce urged, his tone coaxing. “You’ll regret it if you don’t.”

I glanced back at Rafe, who was now talking to Topper, his back turned to me. The pressure was mounting, and for a split second, I felt the walls closing in.

“Just one,” I whispered, the words slipping out before I could stop myself. Kelce’s eyes lit up, and in an instant, he was pulling out the small baggie, the familiar sight making my heart race.

“See? Just a little fun! You’ll feel so much better.” As I took the small pill from him, I felt a rush of exhilaration mixed with dread. I slipped it into my mouth, my heart racing as I swallowed.

“Just like old times, huh?” Kelce grinned, and the laughter from the crowd faded into a dull roar in my ears. I turned to look for Rafe, but he was gone. Panic surged through me, and I felt the world tilting beneath my feet.

“Y/n?” Topper’s voice called out, concern etched on his face as he approached. “What are you doing?”

“I’m fine!” I said quickly, but I could feel the truth slipping away from me.

“Are you sure?” he pressed, his eyes searching mine. “You don’t look fine.”

“Just let me enjoy myself,” I snapped, feeling the heat of shame creeping into my cheeks.

“Y/n, please,” Topper pleaded.

“Don’t do this. You’ve worked too hard to get back on your feet.”

But the words were drowned out by the swelling music, and I felt myself drifting further away from reality. The laughter and chatter faded into the background, replaced by a warmth that seeped into my bones. I lost track of time, the world swirling around me as I danced, laughed, and let go of everything that had been weighing me down. For a moment, I felt free, but beneath the surface, a storm was brewing.

“Y/n!” I heard Rafe’s voice cut through the haze, and my heart dropped. He appeared suddenly, his expression fierce as he pushed through the crowd. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I’m having fun!” I shouted, my voice slurring slightly.

“Fun? Is this what you call fun?” His anger was palpable, and I felt a flicker of fear. “You promised you wouldn’t do this.”

“I’m fine!” I insisted, but I could see the disappointment etched across his face.

“Kelce!” Rafe turned to him, fury in his eyes. “What the hell did you give her?”

“Relax, man. It’s just a little pick-me-up,” Kelce shrugged, but Rafe’s glare could have burned a hole through him.

“Get away from her,” Rafe warned, stepping closer to me, his presence a calming force amidst the chaos.

“You don’t get to drag her back into this.”

“I’m fine, Rafe!” I protested, but as the world spun around me, I realized I was far from fine.

“Y/n, look at me,” he said, his voice steady but laced with concern. “You need to come with me. Now.”

“No! I want to stay!” I fought against him, but he reached for my arm, his grip firm as he pulled me toward the door. “Topper, help me!” Rafe called, and I heard my best friend rushing after us.

“What the hell, Rafe?” Topper said, confusion painted across his face. “What’s going on?”

“He’s trying to take me away!”

I cried, desperation clawing at my throat. “Because you’re not safe here!” Rafe shot back, his eyes blazing. I felt a wave of nausea wash over me as we stumbled into the cool night air. The reality of what I had done began to sink in, and I felt tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

“Y/n, talk to me,” Rafe said, his voice softer now as he turned to face me, concern flooding his features.

“I didn’t mean to,” I whispered, shame crashing over me like a wave. “I just wanted to feel normal.”

“You are normal,” he assured me, but I could see the disappointment in his eyes. “You don’t need this—any of this—to be happy.”

“I thought I could handle it,” I admitted, my voice trembling. “But I messed up.”

“We all mess up,” Rafe said gently, reaching for my hand. “But you need to know that you’re not alone in this. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.” The sincerity in his eyes made my heart ache.

“I’m so sorry, Rafe,” I said, tears spilling down my cheeks. “I didn’t want to disappoint you.”

“You could never disappoint me, doll” he replied, pulling me into his arms. I melted against him, feeling the warmth and safety of his embrace.

“Just promise me you won’t do this again. We’ll figure it out together.”

“I promise,”

I whispered, feeling the weight of my mistakes slowly begin to lift. As the night wore on, I felt the pull of temptation starting to fade, replaced by the warmth of Rafe’s love and support.

Together, we would face the challenges ahead, and I knew I wasn’t alone anymore. In that moment, I realized that the path to recovery wasn’t about being perfect; it was about facing my demons and choosing to rise above them. I had fallen, but with Rafe by my side, I would find my way back.

© gensideas 2024

[getobitchs]

Paper Plain - M. T.

✧.* content warning : fluff

✧.* w/c : 855 (this is too small, helppp-)

✧.* n/a : nothin to say just thank you for reading!!!

✧.* tagline : @sugurus-thoughts ;

₊ ⊹🪻 ✧ ˚i

The soft rustling of paper fills the quiet garden, the breeze lifting the edges of the sheets in delicate swirls. You sit on the ground, legs folded beneath you, as you focused intently on folding a piece of paper. Despite your best efforts, the plane never quite flies straight, tumbling awkwardly through the air and crashing into the grass. You sighed, disappointed.

“Mmh… not quite what I was hoping for,” you murmured to yourself, setting the paper down and quickly reaching for another.

Suddenly, you hear the soft sound of footsteps approaching from behind you, and before you could turn, a calm, quiet voice speaks.

“You’re folding it wrong.”

You freeze for a moment, blinking at the familiar voice. It’s Muichiro.

You look up, finding him standing a few steps away, his expression as serene as always. His teal eyes are trained on the paper in your hands, a faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Is it?” you ask with a small frown, raising an eyebrow. “I thought it was simple.”

He tilts his head slightly, considering your paper plane with a look of quiet amusement. “You’re overcomplicating it. It’s all in the folds.”

“Well, if you think you can do better, go ahead,” you challenged, but it’s more playful than you intend.

Muichiro steps forward, his movements graceful and fluid as he sits down beside you, reaching for a fresh sheet of paper. You watch him intently, a little amused at his calm demeanor. His hands move expertly, folding the edges with precision, the paper quickly taking shape under his deft touch. You watch in awe as he effortlessly forms the perfect plane, one that looks far better than yours ever could.

Once it’s finished, Muichiro holds it out to you, his expression still calm but with the faintest glimmer of satisfaction in his eyes. “Try this,” he says quietly.

You take the plane from him, unsure of what to expect. It feels perfectly balanced in your hands, smooth and light. “Alright, here it goes.”

You throw it, and to your surprise, it soars through the air with a perfect glide, effortlessly catching the wind and sailing smoothly across the garden.

“Whoa,” you mutter in awe, watching it land several feet away. “That was amazing.”

Muichiro’s faint smile grows just a little, his eyes softening. “It’s all about the right folds. It’s simple once you know how to fold it correctly.”

“Yeah, well, you make it look easy,” you reply, laughing softly. “I guess I’m still learning.”

He nods, not saying much more, but the way his gaze lingers on you gives you a strange fluttering feeling. There’s something about the simplicity of the moment, the quiet focus between you two, that makes your heart beat just a little faster.

Muichiro leans back slightly, his gaze moving from you to the garden, the sunlight casting gentle shadows on his face. It’s a peaceful silence that wraps around you both, until he speaks again, his voice soft and almost shy.

“You’re good at learning,” he says, his tone sincere. “I’m sure you’ll get it eventually.”

Your heart skips at his words, and before you can say anything back, Muichiro stands, his movements so fluid and effortless. For a moment, you think he’s about to leave, but he stops and turns to face you.

There’s a brief pause before he takes a step toward you, his hand reaching out, as though he’s unsure but compelled. His fingers brush lightly against yours in a fleeting touch, so soft it almost feels like it could have been a mistake. But it isn’t.

Your breath catches in your throat as his eyes flick to yours, and you realize there’s a shift, a quiet but undeniable tension between you.

Muichiro doesn’t pull away, though. His fingers curl just slightly around yours, his gaze holding yours for a moment longer before he steps even closer.

Without a word, he leans in, his lips grazing your cheek in the gentlest of kisses. The touch is so light, almost like a whisper against your skin, but it feels like it’s echoing in your chest, making your heart beat faster.

For a moment, you’re frozen, your mind unable to fully process what just happened. Muichiro pulls back slightly, his cheeks flushed just a little, his usual calm expression replaced with something softer, almost vulnerable.

“I—” He looks at you, his voice quiet but sincere. “I wanted to thank you for trying.”

You blink, still a little dazed, and slowly bring your hand up to touch the spot where his lips had been. A small smile tugs at your lips as you look at him.

“You didn’t have to do that,” you say softly, feeling warmth spread through your chest.

“I wanted to,” Muichiro replies, his gaze steady, though there’s a faint pink coloring his cheeks. “I don’t mind… helping you with things.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you smile even wider, warmth blooming within you.

“Thank you, Muichiro,” you say, still feeling the lingering warmth of his kiss.

His smile, though small, is genuine, and his eyes soften as he looks at you.

[dee-writes-anime]

Hopes, Dreams, and Trials with Choso Kamo

FEATURING Choso Kamo x Reader

SUMMARY Trying to start a family in general is hard, but trying to start a family with a cursed womb painting is even harder.

CONTENT WARNINGS WARNING, WARNING!!! this fic is really heavy and deals with themes regarding infertility, please please please read at your own risk and prioritize your mental health <3

AUTHORS NOTE four fics in two days?! I must be an imposter... just kidding! The truth of the matter is that these drafts have been ROTTING in my files and I finally decided to busted them out and finish them up 😼

SERIES MASTERLIST

The bedside lamp cast a soft, golden glow over the room, illuminating the quiet anguish etched into Choso’s features. He sat on the edge of the bed, his gaze fixed on the small stick lying on the nightstand. The room’s oppressive silence was broken only by the faint hum of the heater, struggling against the winter’s chill. Choso’s hands trembled slightly, but he couldn’t bring himself to meet your eyes. Not yet. Not while the negative result stood as a glaring reminder of another failed attempt.

You sat cross-legged on the bed, arms wrapped around your knees, the tension in the room pressing down on your chest like a weight. This wasn’t the first time—not even close—and both of you knew it likely wouldn’t be the last. Yet, the knowledge didn’t dull the sting of disappointment. It never did.

“Maybe we should…” you began, your voice a fragile tremor in the stillness.

“Don’t,” Choso interrupted, his tone softer than you expected. His shoulders sagged under the invisible weight he carried, his posture speaking of defeat. Finally, he turned his gaze to you, his expression a raw mix of guilt and despair. “Don’t blame yourself. This isn’t your fault.”

“It’s not yours either,” you countered, your voice steadier now despite the tears pooling in your eyes. “We’re in this together. It’s not about fault.”

Even as you said it, you knew he wouldn’t see it that way. Choso had always carried the burdens of others—a habit formed from years of protecting his brothers, even in death. Now, with this, he felt as though he was failing at something he desperately wanted to give you: a family.

Hesitantly, he reached out, his fingers brushing against your knee. The gesture was tentative, almost apologetic, as though he doubted he deserved to touch you. You covered his hand with yours, intertwining your fingers and squeezing tightly.

“I just…” Choso’s voice broke, and he exhaled sharply, his free hand scrubbing over his face. “I don’t understand. We’ve tried everything. The doctors said it could take time, but… how much more time? How much more hope do we have to lose before…” His voice trailed off, swallowed by the quiet despair hanging in the air.

“As much time as it takes,” you said, though the words felt like a fragile thread of hope in the face of mounting doubts. “Choso, we have to believe it’ll happen. It’s the only thing keeping me…” You faltered, your voice cracking as tears spilled down your cheeks. “Keeping me going.”

Choso’s heart broke at the sight of your tears. He shifted closer, pulling you into his arms. The familiar scent of him—a blend of sandalwood and the faint metallic tang of his cursed energy—washed over you, grounding you in the warmth of his embrace.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve this. Any of this.”

“Neither do you,” you murmured against his chest, where his heartbeat thudded steadily beneath your ear, a comforting rhythm amidst the turmoil.

That night, tangled together under the weight of heavy blankets, you whispered promises into the quiet. He swore his love for you would never waver, no matter what happened. You promised not to let this struggle drive a wedge between you, even when the burden felt unbearable. It was a fragile truce with fate, but it was enough to see you through another night.

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. The routine became all too familiar: tracking ovulation, scheduling doctor’s appointments, enduring endless tests and invasive procedures. Each visit to the fertility clinic felt like navigating a labyrinth of sterile rooms and clinical jargon, leaving a gnawing sense of inadequacy that neither of you voiced aloud.

Choso loathed the way the nurses looked at him—with pity masked by professionalism. He hated the hushed tones and the apologetic smiles that seemed to suggest he wasn’t enough. And worst of all, he hated the way a small, insidious part of his mind whispered that you’d be better off with someone else—someone who could give you everything he couldn’t.

You despised the way the world moved on around you, oblivious to your struggles. Friends’ pregnancy announcements, baby showers, the cheerful chatter of parents in parks—each was a cruel reminder of what you didn’t have. Yet, despite the cracks forming in your resolve, you clung to each other. Even when the silence between you grew heavy with unspoken fears, you stayed tethered to the love that had carried you this far.

One evening, after yet another exhausting day at the clinic, you sat on the couch in the dark. The only light came from the muted television, casting flickering shadows across the room. You leaned against Choso, your head on his shoulder, while his fingers absently traced patterns on the back of your hand. Neither of you spoke for what felt like hours, content to simply exist in the shared quiet.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” you asked suddenly, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Choso stiffened, his hand stilling in its movements. “What?”

“All of this,” you said, gesturing vaguely. “The appointments, the treatments, the constant disappointment. Do you think we’re just setting ourselves up for more heartbreak?”

He turned to face you, his expression unreadable. “Are you saying you want to stop?”

“I don’t know what I’m saying,” you admitted, tears spilling over once more. “I just… I don’t know how much more I can take.”

Choso’s arms encircled you, pulling you close as though he could shield you from the pain. “If you want to stop, we’ll stop,” he said firmly. “But if there’s even a part of you that wants to keep going, then we’ll keep going. No matter how long it takes, I’ll be here. I’ll always be here.”

You clung to him, your tears soaking into his shirt. In that moment, you realized that no matter how difficult the journey, you weren’t alone. Choso was your anchor, your partner, your everything. Together, you would face whatever storms lay ahead, one day at a time.

The following weeks brought a mix of cautious hope and deep uncertainty. Your doctor proposed trying a new treatment, one that was more invasive but held a higher chance of success. The decision to move forward felt daunting, like stepping into uncharted waters, but neither of you could bear the thought of giving up on a dream you had nurtured for so long.

Choso stood by you through every step—every injection, every scan, every procedure. He held your hand tightly in the waiting room, his thumb tracing soothing circles against your skin. On days when the side effects left you exhausted and irritable, he met you with patience and quiet reassurances. Warm tea. A favorite blanket. Silent companionship when words felt too heavy to bear.

There were moments of light amidst the darkness. One afternoon, after a particularly grueling appointment, Choso surprised you with a small potted plant. “It’s a symbol of hope,” he explained, his cheeks tinged pink with embarrassment. “Something we can take care of together.”

You laughed through your tears, touched by the gesture. The plant found a place on the windowsill, a small but enduring reminder that even in the bleakest times, life could still flourish.

As the months wore on, the emotional toll on both of you became undeniable. There were arguments—raw moments where the grief and frustration boiled over, leaving scars of guilt and misunderstanding. But each time, you found your way back to each other, reminded of the love that had brought you together in the first place.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, painting the sky in shades of gold and amber, Choso took your hand in his. His voice was quiet but steady as he said, “I don’t know what the future holds for us. But I know that whatever happens, as long as I have you, it’ll be enough.”

Tears filled your eyes as you leaned into him, your heart swelling with a bittersweet mixture of love and sorrow. “You’re enough for me too,” you whispered. In that moment, a fragile sense of peace settled between you, the knowledge that no matter where the journey led, you would face it together.

TAGLIST

@makingtimemine @strawbrrycat @soraya-daydreams @shokosbunny @saltypuffin1040 @danilights2021 @startwithrecords @obeythebutler @sparklykeylime @surielstea

[tloujoel56]

tommy miller head-cannons

couldn’t get gabriel luna and his slutty little moustache out of my head

the biggest ladies man!! pre-outbreak tommy was a playerrrrr not necessarily on purpose but he just has a charm to him that people are naturally attracted to

a natural flirt! he definitely does that thing where he’ll tease and lightly mock you just to see you get flustered

PROTECTIVE AS FUCK we all know that Tommy is a bit of a trouble maker so it wouldn’t be a shock if he packed a punch at a sketchy guy or two

does that thing where he’ll always have his hand resting on the small of your back or loosely around your waist

likes to keep you close or atleast within eyesight he knows you can protect yourself but is still weary

grew out his hair for you because you commented one time on how you liked when you could see his natural curls

if you didn’t already know how to use a gun he would teach you whilst doing that super cliche move of standing behind you with his arms wrapped around you so you can “shoot properly”

a total gentleman

would always be opening doors for you even if you tell him he doesn’t have to

NICKNAMESSSSS

would call you everything you could imagine sweetheart, darling (with his texan accent kill me), sunshine… you name it

a total cuddler

he’d never admit it but he loves when he’s the baby spoon

dies and comes back to life when you run your fingers through his hair while he rests his head on your chest or lap when he’s tired/upset.

the first person he goes to when he gets injured or hurt

i don’t want to get into details but the sex would be amazing that man knows what he’s doing

he’s definitely the type to talk you through it if you know what i mean wink wink

i feel like he’s the type that likes to sleep shirtless

speaking of sleep he’s definitely not a morning person either you practically have to drag him out of bed to do his patrol

[serqphites]

can someone tell jac that it’s agatha all along and NOT billy all along, thank you!!!

[adelinamoteru]

at some point some of yall will have to admit to yourselves that the jason todd you like and have built up in fanon is not the jason todd that he actually is

inconsistent canon writing included, I have no idea where these povs on him are coming from if ur not actually meaning to do a disservice to his character

[logically-asexual]

for me parasocial relationships are like… an ephemeral experience where i watch one video by a guy and think oh he’s cool/funny/smart and then i watch two more and fall deeply in love and spend those 40 minutes with nothing in my brain but “god i wish i could hold his hand but i would never be good enough for him”, and then i realize that i need to meet more people in real life so i erase the guy’s existence from my mind and just remember him fondly every once in a while. and then i don’t go out and meet anyone but instead wait some time until i find another guy (or return to an old one) to love and then forget.

[tonycries]

Like A Fever

Synopsis. What was sweeter - you or the aphrodísiacs that they just so happened to take? Well, only one way to find out.

Pairings. Gojo x Reader, Sukuna x Reader, Choso x Reader, Geto x Reader, Nanami x Reader, Toji x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, unprotected, bréeding, aphrodísiacs, cúmplay, needy desperate boys, oral (male + female receiving), spitting, overstimming, Geto is kinda mean, voyeurísm (Choso’s), semi-public (Nanami’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 4.6k

A/N. Gojo’s came out accidentally a bit fluffy whoopsies.

♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO - Like candy

“Ya better clean your act up, doll.” he chuckles darkly in your ear, lips dragging down your neck. “S’bad manners, y’know?”

Telling you to clean your act up when he was the one making such a mess of you? Oh you could just smack him for that little comment - well, if he didn’t have you folded in half and split apart on his throbbing cock, that is. 

And maybe he senses it - you wouldn’t be surprised. Because Toji’s giving a playful bite to your bottom lip, humming into your open mouth, “What? Got something to say to me?” As if to support his point, he pulls out - just enough that his cum dribbles down your shaky legs. “Had me eat that damn chocolate n’ now you’re giving me attitude?”

Only a souvenir from the way he’d gone so feral with just one bite, filling you up over and over until you were left wondering whether it was more the aphrodisiac or that Toji just liked seeing your poor pussy so overfilled and bloated.

“N-no.” you manage to get out.  

“Good. Because I’m not done yet.”

It’s all that’s said before he’s pulling out. Completely. 

A disappointed little whine leaves your lips before you even realize what’s happening. And you’re left clenching so greedily around nothing, thick globs of cum landing in a pool on the drenched sheets below. 

“No- come back-.” If you were in any better state of mind you’d almost be embarrassed about how pathetically you were begging for something- anything. Just anything but for Toji to pull away, kissing down your body until he was face-to-face with your dripping cunt. 

But did he listen? Of course not. Because it you were such a fucking vision down there, it was almost hard to look - your pretty pussy all painted white with his cum, seeping into your skin. 

And Toji’s so fucking hypnotized that he doesn’t even give you a warning before plunging nose-deep, unable to even think about bringing himself to be disgusted. No, the only thing on his mind was to bully his tongue through your swollen folds, dipping just into your sloppy entrance and ah-

He groans into your cunt as he tastes himself. Tastes you. 

Sweet. You were so fucking sweet. 

So pretty falling apart on his tongue as he laps up your juices like a man possessed. All your cute, broken little moans going straight to his aching dick. All that cum from before? It wouldn’t go to waste. 

“Shit.” you flinch as he hisses out little profanities into your sensitive pussy, “Y’taste so good, so mine.” Words slurred and unfocused, like the chocolate was getting to him - or maybe it was how pussydrunk he was now.

Toji is grinning, you can feel it on your throbbing clit as he wraps his lips around it - clearly having way too much fun with this. And shit you could almost cry from the overstimulation - walls fluttering sensitively around his relentless tongue. 

“C’mon, doll.” Toji’s grunting and smacking his lips against your own. “Give it t’me. Wan’ it all.”

And he was so fucking messy with it too - Toji always was, but right now it was like he couldn’t decide where to go next. Stretching you out, dipping inside your slutty hole, swirling his tongue against your ravaged clit over and over and- 

“Yes! Yes yes yes-” your body jerks violently. Shaking, bucking your hips into his touch so desperately. “Feels so fucking good- don’ stop-.” 

“So demanding.” he tuts mockingly around your dripping entrance, the vibrations sending white-hot jolts of electricity up your spine. But he’s becoming frenzied now, drinking in your cute little whimpers like he was addicted. It wasn’t enough - it never might be and fuck Toji wanted more. 

To taste it more. To have you like this - big fat tears dripping down your cheeks, pussy trying to suck up his hot tongue so needily, so hard that it was almost difficult to tonguefuck you into insanity. Half-lucidly, you wondered whether his jaw wasn’t tired, tongue cramping up. 

And honestly Toji could stay here on his knees for hours, just teasing you with his tongue - but no, there was something else more important.

“Shit- Toji, m’close m’-”

Without another word, he’s pulling away. Disappointment quickly turning into anticipation at the sheer sight of his face glossed so prettily with your juices, messy and dripping all the way down his chin. You gulp as Toji swipes his tongue across his lips, savoring every last drop of you. 

“You’re welcome, I cleaned up your act.” His fist wraps around his still-achingly hard cock, eyes locked on you like a predator cornering his prey, “Now s’time f’me to mess it all up again.”

♡ NANAMI KENTO - Impatient!

“My love,” he whispers against your ear, barely audible above the bustling office party. One hand reaching down oh-so-covertly to cup your ass against that sinfully thin dress. “If I don’t fuck you right now, I think I might just fuckin’ lose it.”

Oh. 

Which is how you found yourself shoved against the wall of the nearest bathroom, the tile cool against your skin. Barely even fully inside before Nanami - desperate and already fumbling with his belt - is swiftly locking the door.

“K-Kento- ah-” you gasp, the words dying in your throat as he shoves your dress up. Bothering just enough to pull aside your panties before spitting on your poor pussy from behind. Once. Twice. Missing on purpose to let a steady stream of saliva and slick trail filthily down your quivering thighs. “People are gonna- hah- wonder…”

God, your head was spinning - Nanami was so fucking filthy right now, all sloppy desperation where he was usually suave kisses, playing you like a fine instrument during sex.

“Let them.” he groans against your ear. Smearing his spit all over your pussy, toying with you in a way that was so maddening. “I jus’ need you right- fuck, right now. Jus’ relax f’me, darling.”

You scoff, both as impatient and needy as you were confused. “Kento, you ngh- drag me out here and tell me to relax?” Clenching so desperately around nothing as he drags his swollen tip up and down your folds, sliding it so lewdly in-between. “Why don’t you just fuck me alre-”

Because the words are barely out of your mouth before he’s pushing in, inching inside just slow enough that he wouldn’t hurt his pretty girl.

“Oh! Shit- ah fuck fuck. S’too- ngh” you can barely form coherent sentences at just the stretch. 

“Big?” he’s huffing out a laugh as you keen at the stretch, as if your walls aren’t sucking him in so obscenely, hips bucking up mindlessly for more. “Y’can take it, I know- you can-”

Thrusting only in quick, shallow little jabs of his hips, like he was trying to stop some utterly depraved part of himself from fucking into your cute pussy until you were screaming his name. Not even wanting to give you time to adjust because shit he needed this- wanted this so bad-

Smack!

A hand comes down on the wall just inches away from your head, like a desperate attempt to collect himself. 

“Mmm- Kento.” you groan, drunk off the way he was filling you up so good. Full. So full - and he wasn’t even halfway in. wanting more. Veins pulsing against your walls in a dizzying thump! thump! thump! to which your sanity was slowly dancing away from you. 

“Y-yes?” 

You turn around to bat your lashes at him, “Just fuck me the way I know you want to.”

It’s like something snapped - maybe Nanami’s restraint, maybe his sanity, definitely you by the end of this. 

“Well then,” he hums, dangerously low. Looping two strong arms around your waist so you can’t escape. Tight, grip almost bruising. “What m’girl wants, she’s gonna-” Immediately reeling his hips back all the way till his weeping tip was just kissing your sloppy entrance. “-get.”

And God Nanami might be pussydrunk out of his mind, but whatever was left of that rational part of his mind had him shoving his fingers inside your mouth. Muffling the delicious little moan that rips from your throat as he finally bottoms out. 

Stretching you to insanity, heavy balls smacking your ass so hard you were sure it would leave marks.

“Y’know, thank fuck for Higuruma. Didn’t think you’d be taking it like such a little slut in the bathroom if he hadn’t slipped me that chocolate.” Not even giving you the time adjust before he was ramming his cock into you, whispering in your ear in such a mean little tone. “Better be thankful now, since m’going easy on you-”

A shiver runs down your spine - maybe at his words, maybe at the way he was fucking you liked he hated you. Not even letting you breathe with the way he had his hips smacking yours, tip kissing your cervix, fingers poised on your throbbing clit. 

Ready to break - to ruin you.

“-because we haven’t even gotten home, yet.”

♡ GETO SUGURU - "Shut up and cum."

“It’s probably not even that bad, right?”

Oh, you shouldn’t have said that - you really, really shouldn’t have said that. 

Because now, not only was Geto Suguru reeling from the after-effects of swallowing some damned lust curse - he was also going to make you bear the brunt of it. And the words have barely left your mouth before he’s pushing you onto the nearest flat surface - eyes dazed, hair untied, looking miles away as he all but rips off your shorts and drenched panties with it.

Whispering hotly against your ear, “You’re going to fucking regret that.”

That was over an hour ago. Probably, you were too far gone to keep track of the time at this point.

Because what you certainly didn’t expect was to still have Geto buried in your poor, abused cunt, ramming into you from behind like a fucking animal. So hard you were sure it left marks - your thighs on his, his balls on your ass, fingers on your hips. 

So debauched and merciless that all you can do is let out a pathetic little ah! ah! ah! each time his angry tip kisses your cervix. Words cracking as you manage to get out, “S-Sugu-”

“Shut up.”  Voice so jagged and hoarse that it takes you a second to realize that it’s your boyfriend. Hips only getting sloppier as he speeds up - his only response. 

You were getting fucked by your boyfriend - but it didn’t feel like your boyfriend. Just a madman out to ruin your ravaged pussy. He’s been teasing you this whole time - toying with your pretty pussy like his favorite fucktoy. Always stopping just when you were about to cum. Driving you mad so torturously slow.

“But Sugu~” you yelp, and he gives your ass a sharp smack. A warning - but you still plow on, hoping to speak some sense back into the man. “A-all I said was-”

“Didn’t I fucking tell you to shut up?” 

Honestly, Geto doesn’t even know why he’s mad - he loves you. He loves when you talk. He loves when you’re all needy for him. But it’s just that his cock was so hard it felt like he was about to fucking explode - and that there was no better cure for that than seeing you all breathless and crying to cum. 

Is he being a bully? Yeah. Does it make his balls squeeze so painfully hard watching you try and play with your pretty clit? Only for him to smack your hand away? Fuck yeah.

Which is why he can’t take his eyes off the heavenly sight of you spread so shamefully, sloppy and wet enough that you’re dripping all over him. Face scrunched into such an adorable pout while he massages your plushy walls, trying to milk something delicious..

So fucking pretty. It almost makes him wanna play nice.

“A-all ya gotta do- ngh-” you were milking him so good it was almost impossible for Geto to form coherent sentences. “-is shut up and take it. S’that so hard? Hah-”  Hips are erratic now, fucking any and every thought out of your mind. “Running your mouth for what? Just lemme take care of you, gorgeous.” 

It’s all you can do to not sob in desperation, hips grinding down traitorously on his cock in an attempt to meet his merciless cadence. You don’t even have to think about it - just some primal, pathetic part of yourself trying to get off. 

Surprisingly, Geto lets you - maybe he’s reached his limit, too. 

Because he’s letting you reach out an angle his hips, nails digging into his slutty waist. Just trying to fuck yourself deeper. Harder - the way you knew would have him hitting just the right spots that have you-

He’s stopped. 

“Now now, what did I say?” Geto’s tutting mockingly, lips curling into such a cruel little smile. And when he looks down at you, you don’t know whether it’s the aphrodisiac or that sadistic little part of himself taking over. Lips ghosting so gently over yours, “If you’re that impatient then make the both of us cum. Now. Or you’re not cumming at all.” Oh. He definitely hasn’t reached his limit - and you think he won’t stop until he’s broken yours.

♡ CHOSO KAMO - Not enough (never is)

“Please, baby.” Choso lets out a broken little grunt, milking his base tighter. Back arching off the bed each time his fist flies up and down his swollen cock, “C-can’t hah- cum without you.” 

God, fuck you and your secret “special chocolate” stash. 

Well, Choso wishes he could fuck you right now, because only one bite of that little pink chocolate that he’d found all the way in the back of the refrigerator and that’s all he could think about. 

So here he was - pants thrown across the room, boxers shoved down to his ankles. One hand wrapped around his cock, the other trying to muffle those pathetic moans leaving him each time he came at the thought of you. You, looking so unfairly pretty, flashing him that sultry smile before you left for work. You, how much better you’d look on your knees with that smile wrapped around his cock. Looking up at him with those beautiful, teary eyes as you choke around him - oh, how badly he just wants to steal you away from your workplace.

Trying so desperately to chase- which orgasm was it this time? He didn’t even know, doesn’t even think his fried brain could count right now. 

Ah, who gives a shit - Choso just can’t help himself, okay? It wasn’t enough. Never will be - he could cum at just the thought of you over and over again until he physically couldn’t anymore. 

“Shit.” Eyes rolling to the back of his head, Choso fights back a groan as he reaches a hand up to teasingly thumb under his slit. “Wan’ your ngh- sweet lips w-wrapped around me.” 

“Is that so, Cho?”

Your thighs squeeze together at the way Choso twitches so sensitively in his hands just at the sound of your voice. So red and so so angry, hard enough that you wondered whether it was painful. Eyeing everything from the way he was sprawled so pretty across your bed, a delicate flush spreading all over his body. Fist stalling - but still not stopping - at the sight of you. 

Your boyfriend manages to grit out, hips stuttering as he fucks his fist faster and faster, chest heaving, eyes locked on you. “Y-you’re early?”

“Mhm. Seems you’ve been busy?” you purr, walking ever-so-slowly into the heady room. Giving him a big, pouty look you knew he’d like. “Without me?”

And oh he lets out a broken moan of your name. Only getting sloppier - precum glistening all the way down his wrist, erratic with no rhythm like he was desperate to fuck something so delicious out. Something you really wanted to see. 

“Ngh- didn’t mean to, baby.” But he didn’t mean it, too focused on the way you were walking so agonizingly slowly towards him. “C-couldn’t stop mm- thinking of you.”

Ah, Choso was so pretty - delicate tears streaming down his face, cheeks flushed, hair undone. So overstimulated and needy that you just couldn’t not tease him. Just a little bit. 

“Guess you snuck into my secret stash, huh?” You get down on your knees between those thick, muscled thighs, running your hands up and down his milky skin. “What do we say then, Cho?”

He’s letting out a throaty moan of your name, balls squeezing so fucking painfully at the heavenly below him. What he’s wanted for so long.

So pathetically needy the way he inches his aching cock closer, precum dripping down your tongue, sliding all the way down your throat. Drip! Drip! Drip! So sweet and addictive - but still not giving into what he wanted so badly. “S-sorry-” 

“Louder.” 

“M’sorry- hngh- baby.”

“Then cum, f’me, Cho. All over m’face.”

And with that, Choso’s painting your pretty face white with him cum. Untouched. At the mere sight of you on your knees. So fucking messy with the way he was pumping out thick, hot cum. Rope after rope on your tongue - so hard and violent as if he hadn’t spent the last hour cumming all over his fist. 

Because shit nothing was better than seeing you suck him dry, swallowing every drop like you couldn’t get enough. Especially when you’re letting his seed drip all the way down your chin, looking up at him with delirious, cockdrunk eyes as you spit on his length. Once. Twice.

Palms smearing the saliva and cum along his throbbing length. Making him feel so fucking dirty as you give his pretty pink tip a chaste kiss. Swirling your tongue under the slit just the way he’d done before. 

Letting out a muffled little, “Started without me n’ I think you gotta pay the price, hm?”

Yeah, it’ll never be enough with you.

♡ RYOMEN SUKUNA - Easy girl

“Out.”

At first, everyone froze. 

It wasn’t unusual for the king of curses to rasp out a command, let alone tell everyone in his throne room to leave. But it was the way he said it - like he’d fucking snap anyone’s neck if they didn’t. And only one look at you - standing doe-eyed and uncertain at the doorway, thighs quivering ever-so-slightly - had everyone running out the room before Sukuna decided to wipe them out. Or worse. 

“Kuna…” you huff, shuffling to sit so prettily on his lap once you two were left alone. Nuzzling the crook of his neck, “Missed you.”

Ah, he loved you like this. 

You feel Sukuna’s muscled chest rumble with a laugh, pushing you to rest against his pecs as large hands come to rest on your ass. Squeezing and kneading with no care for any marks. “Is that all, brat?” He hums lazily, rocking your hips lazily right where his twitching cock was. “Cuz I can feel how wet that lil’ pussy is n’ I think she has something to tell me.”

And it was true - God, you were so needy and dripping all over Sukuna’s lap. Grinding your hips deliriously to meet his, not even realizing those broken little whimpers leaving your mouth. Shit, you were so far gone. And he knew that. 

“I-” you choke, feeling Sukuna’s cock swelling and hardening beneath your throbbing pussy. “...might’ve snuck into the kitchens. Uraume gave me some chocolate and I’ve been feeling so weird ever since.”

Oh, you were so cute. Big fat tears clinging to your lashes while you humped him like a bitch in heat - Sukuna just can’t stop himself from pulling aside your drenched panties. In awe at the way the flimsy fabric barely did anything to hide your pretty cunt, sticky and glistening so sloppily.

“That explains it.” 

Rip! 

And it’s all that’s said before Sukuna is just tearing your poor panties off, looping it around your neck to pull you closer with it. 

Losing his patience with each pathetic little whine spilling from your lips, the way he could feel your pulse around. So delicate and urgent. The way just one tight pull could have you gasping breathlessly.

“My pretty baby was needy, huh?” he chuckles, breath hot against your skin. Letting out a cruel laugh as he thumbs your swollen folds open, circling ÿour sopping hole, “Tell me.” Biting down your neck, “What do you want to do about it, brat?”

You bat your lashes up at him, fabric tightening around your neck. “Wan’ your cock, Kuna.”

Sukuna didn’t have to be asked twice - because what his cute lil’ human wants, she’ll get. And before you can even react, he’s shifting around his robe just enough for his cock to spring free. Already soaked with precum - or maybe that was your slick.

And shit it doesn’t take him even a second to stuff your tight cunt so full. Have you keening at the sheer stretch as he fucks you in shallow, mindless little grinds to squeeze himself inside your plushy walls. Desperate. 

Because Sukuna was big, so big that you never got used to that no matter how many times he played with your pretty pussy. Used to a few tears, a few lil’ whines of “S’too big, Kuna!”.

But, now, you were sucking him up so well. Milking his thick cock so well with no preparation, head thrown back and fucking yourself in mindless little bounces to meet his. Like the perfect little slut that Sukuna knew you were. 

Sukuna’s mouth drops into a soft little oh! at how quick he bottoms out - the fastest he ever has. You were taking him so good into your sloppy pussy. 

Shit, did you even know what you were doing? 

“F-fuck, maybe you should have those chocolates more often, huh?” Sukuna mutters with a strange sort of reverence. 

Of course, the only response he gets is an incoherent little babble of something - something that went straight to his heavy balls. Too busy with fucking yourself onto his thick cock, already buried so deep inside you, but still pushing relentlessly.

Hips stuttering and leaking your sweet, sweet so sloppily juices all over his thighs. So good but still not enough - still trying to take him deeper. Faster. Needing this more and more by the second. 

“C’mon now.” he muses, fucking his hips to meet your filthy cadence, grip tightening around your panties, a signal to answer. And you gasp - both for air and because you feel like you’re literally burning from the inside. 

“Ah- fuck fuck fuck I- wan’” Nails raking down his shoulder, messily kissing his lips. A desperate attempt to try and tell him what you really want - and he understands. Of course, he does. “Please.”

Which is probably why Sukuna’s laughing at your pathetic state. Too cockdrunk to speak, huh? Spreading your thighs even farther, so much so that it burned. Hands so bruisingly tight on your hips.  “Ya did well, brat.” he grins, “Now, let me be the one to take care of you.”

♡ GOJO SATORU - Won’t get out alive

“Sweetheart, fuck fuck fuck, please- M’gonna-” Gojo doesn’t even get to finish the sentence before he’s spilling all over you hand. Milking his aching cock as he keeps cumming and cumming so much that you wondered whether he’s okay - whether he’d make it out alive, even. 

“This is all because of your own stupidity.” you grumble, but still letting him fuck your first through his high - for the nth time today. Hands much smaller and softer than his - shit, was he glad he teleported to your apartment in the middle of class for this. 

And as Gojo blinks back his vision, heaving to regain his breath, his orgasm-addled brain finds it in himself to mutter out a pouty little, “S’not my fault.”

You’re so irritated by him and his stupidity that you pay no mind to the way he’s playing with the hem of your panties, fingers sliding so sneakily underneath. Huffing out a sulky, “I’m serious, Toru. If the elders find out then-”

“Then they can suck my dick.” your boyfriend cuts you off oh-so eloquently. Much more interested in just how sinfully drenched your panties were, all messy and sticking to your swollen folds. “But I’d rather this pretty pussy take care of me before that.”

That’s all that is said before Gojo’s immediately pressing his angry, leaking tip into your sloppy pussy, groaning when you clamp down on him so deliciously. God, he was so sensitive he could cum from just this. Hell, maybe he does, a creamy little ring of white forming at the base as he keeps pushing in. Inch by fucking inch.

And he doesn’t stop - can’t stop - until you’re all the way flush against those tufts of white at his toned pelvis. 

Gasping breathlessly at the hands all on your hips - your sensitive clit - your face - just everywhere because Gojo just can’t get enough of you. Especially when he’s so needy and desperate like this.

“Who let himself hah- g-get hit with a fucking aphrodisiac technique? On purpose?”

Your tone makes him flinch - and for his swollen cock to start twitching so dangerously exhaustedly inside you. So addictively that Gojo can’t even wait too long for you to adjust. Starting up quick, jagged thrusts into your snug pussy. Grinning quietly, “Whoopsies.”

“Ah! Hngh- Fuck. Y-you deserve to suffer the consequences alone, you dumbass.” you scold, tightening your legs around him. And you can do nothing but buck up deliriously as he speeds up his pace - thumbing your swollen clit, like a little apology.

“I know.” he hums into your skin, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down every inch of you he could reach. Gasping at the sheer overstimulation. It hurt so good. “Don’ deserve you.”

“That’s not what I-”

Gojo shuts you up with one, harsh thrust. One that knocks all the air out of your lungs and has you worrying whether he’s pushing his massive cock into your organs. You can only take it as his heavy balls smack your ass harder, throbbing cock massaging your gummy walls over and over and-

“Don’t deserve this heavenly pussy-” getting sloppier now, no rhyme or rhythm. Licking long, languid stripes up your neck. “Don’t deserve those cute lil’ moans, either. Or the way you put up with me.” 

Fingers getting frenzied on your clit now - the way they did when he was getting close. Moving in sloppy little patterns that were so eager to get you off. 

Broken little profanities leaving him every time his hips stutter inside of you. Too much to handle at this point that Gojo thinks he might just explode. 

And then finally, he’s pulling away. So fucking sensitive and overstimulated that tears cling to his long lashes, delicately flushed all the way from the tips of his ears down, down, down to where you couldn’t see. Lips so pretty and pink as they say, “But don’t you think for a second that m’gonna let you go, sweetheart.”

“Cum f’me, Toru.”

And Gojo’s so far-gone that he doesn’t realize when he is - pumping thick, hot ropes of cum into your poor pussy with a strangled groan of what sounds like your name. 

Filling you up to the brim like he’d just been waiting for permission. Too proud, too fucking embarrassed to show off this vulnerable little side of himself that was gasping and clawing breathlessly at you. Eyes screwing shut, head thrown back, holding on for some semblance of sanity as he cums harder than he has his entire life.

Babbling out barely-lucid moans of how he’s gonna “get payback for making him cum early” and “make you cum double next time”. 

Promises he well and fully intended to fulfill - if the way his cock was still twitching so ferally inside you was anything to go by. Hips fucking up deliriously - strained, like it hurt but he just had to. Like he couldn’t just not fuck your pretty lil’ pussy. Desperately starting up a pace that made you wonder - yeah, he was going to be the death of you.

A/N. Plagiarism not authorized.

[satorena]

#BUILD-A-BLOB !?

bad ☆ summary. good news? your nephew’s birthday gift to you definitely works. bad news? turns out to be a cranky four armed creature that nags at everything you do. good / bad news? he’s smokin’ hot and you wanna fuck him nasty. seriously, what the fuck.

cw. explicit content. foul language. monsterfūcking. blobkuna to true form!kuna. double penetration. anāl. deepthroăting. cunningūlus. pūssy slapping. bāckshots. belly bulge. creāmpie. degradation (he calls you mean things) overstimulation. dumbification. mentions of drug usage. sukuna speaks like he has a stick up his ass. pōrn without plot. 4.4k words.

rena’s ☆ note. guys i’m giggling so hard at the gif HELP

“the fuck are ya starin’ at?”

technically speaking, you think you’re looking at a seven foot monster with more arms than you can count, more mouths than necessary and much more tattoos than you can see. just a minute ago, this entity had been an ugly formless blob with a singular eye and bucked teeth that sat against your window, forming incoherent sentences as “me want water”, “me need light” or your personal favorite, “me want you to fuck off”.

you’d left to check on your plants momentarily, coming back to your living space to find that the blob had transformed into a . . . human? something along the word that you use very loosely.

he stands tall and proud and very naked— though unimpressed, toned arms crossed and ass cheeks facing the world outside. you can see the reflection of his clenched buns through the glass and— is that a fucking tramp stamp?

“i’m thinking. . . what used to be my birthday gift,” you answer slowly, brows pinched in confusion as your head tilts. it’s below you, sure, but you can’t help staring at what’s below him. surely it’s the weed catching up to you because there’s no way that, “is that— holy shit, is that two dicks?”

“perverted woman,” the man (question mark) clicks his tongue, as if he isn’t the one dressed in his birthday suit, asshole bearing for pedestrians outside to file public indecency on you. “your reaction suggests you’ve never witnessed the presence of two at once.”

“well. . . no,” he stares at you as if you’re the one with four arms and abnormally long legs. you crouch down, index finger scratching at the corner of your mouth to analyze it some more. you were curious, nothing more! you feel the multitude of his eyes trailing your movements, daring you to proceed forward. he truly doesn’t know you.

they stack atop one another, though both sizes are nothing to scoff at. packing in both girth and length, they stand tall and semi hardened, with curves to the right. he’s got prominent veins running all over his skin, mushroom tips an angry shade of reddish brown. frowning, you peek your head lower to confirm following suspicions,

his tone is rough along the edges, “i do not possess four testicles.” damn it.

“boo, you suck,” you sigh, indeed disappointed by the confirmation. you’d think a monster with monstrous limbs and monstrous cocks would own monstrous balls. “whatever.” you stand back up on your feet, though you’re met with hard ripples of glistening abs.

“so like,” you pause, now shamelessly staring at his torso with shimmering eyes. he’s ripped with an eight pack, waist snatched like a motherfucker and skin inked like a colouring book. “what do i call you?”

you think you hear him chuckle, “how foolish,” a mouth then appears on his stomach, to which you jerk back from how sudden it was. your brows jump to your hairline, eyes widening as teeth bare at you menacingly. “it is common decency to introduce yourself firsthand. have you no manners in the presence of a king?”

“a who?” you squawk, overwhelmed by the intensity of the situation. this four-armed freak was a king? from where exactly? you shake your head, as if to turn off your inner monologues and quiet the voices down, “right, right. erm, you can call me y/n.”

he repeats your name slowly, followed by a deep chuckle. the rumble of your name against his voice sends a weird tingle down your gut, as you crane your neck upwards to finally look him in the face.

you gulp. damn it, he was attractive all around. though morally questionable, you found his features dashing. sure, there was the weird thing stuck in the side of his face that resembled a mixture of flesh and wood. and yeah, he had an additional set of slender eyes. however, his facial harmony somehow blended perfectly. his facial structure was sharp all around, from his nose bridge to his jawline, and his ears with pierced.

what more could anybody want?

blame it on the sativa or the fact you hadn’t been fucked in a while, but it was your birthday and you want your birthday gift, damn it. there shouldn’t be anything wrong with that— the pulsing at your core had your thighs rubbing together subtly (you hoped) (he smirked when he noticed your legs shifting) (fuck, he already knows).

“you will address me as sukuna, mortal.” he says instead, one of his arms mounting to grasp at a piece of your hair. he’s beefy, big biceps surrounding your peripherals as they flex hard. he twirls your hair between his fingers, and shit, you’re gonna need his nail technician’s reference.

“you talk like you have a stick up your ass,” your voice sounds distant, as distracted as you are, perverted eyes trailing to follow the bulging of his muscles. even his forearm is sexy, a large vein running course beneath his skin amongst others. “you ask for my name and choose to call me mortal? corny.”

“i am not a product of this time,” he riddles, tugging at the strand in his hold. the searing pain of his tug at your hair has you moaning— in agony or pleasure, who truly knows— and before you know it, he spreads the rest of his large fingers at your scalp, “you say i speak as if i have a stick up my ass,” shivers run down your spine when his fingernails scratch at your head, “but really it is you who wants my stick up yours, huh?”

you blink. how the fuck did he know? “th-that’s not even remotely true—”

“do not lie,” another arm lifts to cup at your face. his index rests beneath your jaw as his thumb sits at your chin. you feel the sharp edges of his nails grazing at your skin, “your scent is rather . . . pungent.”

you feel heat quickly spread to your cheeks and your panties effortlessly dampening. he smirks, dipping his thumb into your parted mouth, before scrunching his nose into a whiff, “ah, there it is again.”

the pad of his thumb swipes against your bottom lip, skin collecting your saliva before rubbing the fluid all over your mouth. you feel the tip of his nail poking into the flesh, and your brows furrow, “and you called me the perverted one.”

“that remains true.” another— jeez, how many more— arm snakes at your waist. it creeps below your shirt and sits at your bare skin, a touch so warm it sends jolts of electricity across your limbs. his hand rests at your lower belly, and when a wet tongue drags itself across your sensitive skin, you clamp your lips down around his thumb in a whimper, “you’re an obedient one. i think i’ll have fun with you.”

your brows furrow as your cunt clenches. his smirk deepens and, fuck you really need to stop doing that, “have fun with me?”

“it has been a while since i’ve fooled around with a mortal,” he hums, slipping his thumb out of your mouth. there’s a thin string of saliva connecting from your lips to his fingertip, and you hate how you already crave the salty flesh back in your mouth. “let us see just how weak the human body truly is.”

somewhere along the lines, you find yourself on your knees in your living room, carpet digging into your kneecaps as your fingers interlock at your back. your jaw aches, to the point of snapping as two fat cocks shove themselves down your throat. you breathe through your nostrils as your mouth is clearly occupied, fat tears dotting at your lash line and dribbles of saliva slipping past your lips and down his cocks.

two of his hands grasp at your head as leverage, hips thrusting up and down your throat. the gags that escape you are pornographic, throat muscles clenching around the intrusion. fuck, the strong musk of his pubic hairs cloud your senses and overwhelm your mind— driving you dizzy in arousal.

“loosen up yer throat,” sukuna commands, though you find it contradictory as another one of his abnormally large hands wrap themselves around your throat. he presses just lightly, as if to trace over the bulge of his dicks inside of you, but the lack of oxygen has your body liquifying in heat. you think you see stars, and your pupils start to dilate. “c’mon mortal, don’t pass out on me now— we’ve only just begun.”

easy for you to say, you roll your eyes, though complying to his orders. shit, it’s really hard to breathe but you can’t deny you love how objectifying all of this feels. bounding your own hands back, kneeled in front of this king, hair grouped up in one hand to tug onto. he was using you as if you were merely a toy for his own pleasure, mushroom tips repeatedly abusing the walls of your throat.

your cunt clenches around air, gushing more of your essence against the flimsy material of your panties. his stomach clenches tightly, as do his thigh muscles, the embodiment of man in front of you, destroying your throat.

fuck, your clit throbs.

the king coos at you degradingly, ruby eyes narrowing down at your figure, “awnn, ‘s it too much for ya?” you feel a wad of spit land on your cheek, and despite the nastiness of the actions, the filthiness has you clenching your thighs together. of course he finds pleasure in your desperation, leaning back further into the couch to cock his head at you, “humpin’ on yerself like a desperate slut beggin’ for a proper dicking. how pathetic,”

you nod your head eagerly, as your mouth fails to express just how badly you do want him. he’s so deep down your throat, you swear you feel him near your heart. the sting at your scalp plus the lack of oxygen and your need to have him stuff you full drives you wild with want— so desperate that tears leak through your eyes, stream down your cheeks and land right at his dicks.

“mhm, i’ll take care of ya,” sukuna cuts himself off with a deep groan, sliding further down into his seat. he shifts his hips deeper down your throat, and you gag terribly loud, “you hungry, mortal? open wide and, fuck, take what i give ya—” another grunt leaves him, and as does thick ropes of cum do.

your eyes widen as you’re greeted with hot cum shooting down your throat. it’s creamy, thick and so, so much of it that you’re certain swallowing it all would be impossible. your cheeks hollow as you attempt in your best efforts to gulp him down, the flavour of salty semen bursting at your taste buds.

“greedy bitch,” he chuckles through a moan, grinding his hips in rotations as he rides down the high. sweat dribbles down the crevices of his abs, stomach clenching hard as he empties his balls in you. “thaaat’s it—shit, not fuckin’ bad.”

when he finally pulls out, you gasp loudly for the sweet air you had been deprived of. your body trembles as you release your own hold, hands flying up to grasp at his thick thighs. your fingernails scrape at his skin as your chest heaves.

“y’re so,” you pant, and you can barely register how broken your voice sounds. did his cocks destroy your vocal chords already? “y’re so fuckin’. . . mean.”

“too much?” sukuna cackles, though he’s nowhere near sounding apologetic. his fingers cupping your face swipe at fallen tears on your cheeks. at the feel of a wet tongue licking at your damp skin, you pout in retaliation, brows furrowed and swollen lips puckered, “better get it together, ‘m gonna stretch that pussy out.”

damn it— he had such a way with words. you subconsciously lean your cheek further into his touch, and the grin he gives you is barbaric, “face down, ass up.”

so yeah, you find yourself with your cheek pressed into the softness of your couch, hips pulled up and thighs spread as sukuna feasts. the panties you once wore stuffed in your mouth, they muffle the wanton sounds that rip out your abused throat.

you feel his tongue lap at your folds hungrily, fingers spreading your pussy lips apart for better access. he tongue fucks into your hole, lips sucking and nibbling at your clit with precision. wet heat intrudes your insides and have your stomach tightening.

fingernails scratching at the couch, your back arches as you grasp at anything for support. having multiple mouths should be illegal— you feel tongues trailing all over your thighs and the dip in your back, you feel them rimming at your backside. you even think you feel one diving into your ass.

“mmph, m‘kunaaa!” you wail, toes curling as you push your hips further into his face. you’d never been eaten out as good as he is, nose deep in your cunt as your insides get devoured. you’re so overwhelmed— your puffy clit secreting essence as a slick tongue flicks at the bean.

a hand slaps once, twice at your ass as another pair of hands grip at your plush flesh. “shut th’fuck up,” he speaks into you, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers up your spine. you roll your eyes to the back of your skull, foot shaking uncontrollably. when the hands cupping at your breast begin tugging at your nipples, tongues flicking the stiff bud, you feel your dam erupt.

“mmfuuuuckkk!” you whine, as your cunt gushes in his face. he never lets up, tongue repeatedly scissoring your hole as he swallows your juices. you’re squirting so much it drips all over his face and down the suede couch, down your thighs. you think your soul had been taken by this damn near succubus with how long it takes for you to come back to your senses.

he pulls back with a nasty smack from his lips to your lower ones, using the back of his hand to wipe at any excess fluids, “sweet cunt,” he praises you, and you weakly whine, body drained of energy as you fall limp into the soaked couch. you’re out of it, bottom lip quivering as your limbs tingle in bliss— you feel your lids growing heavier by the second but sukuna is having none of that, “aht aht— where the fuck d’you think yer goin’?”

you feel pair of hands pull your hips back up and another grab a handful of your hair in a steady hold. you’re immediately pulled up on all fours, and you whimper at the firm blows he lands yet again on your ass.

he lifts himself on his knees, and you feel his hardnesses rub against the curve of your booty, “told you i was gon’ stretch this pussy out— ‘m a man of my fuckin’ word.” and shit, you think you push your ass back against his leaking cocks, dragging the beady fluids all over the softness of your skin.

your back arches sinfully as you spit out the soaked panties from your mouth and onto the floor. the slide of his dicks in between your thighs has your stomach heating in lust, the drags of his tips at your clit reenergizing you faster than you’d like to admit.

“mmhm, that’s it,” he grumbles into the supple skin at your neck, grazing his fangs teasingly at the flesh and his warm breath further dampening your skin. the large hands that cupped at your waist now lean you forwards against the arm of the couch, and you suddenly feel a lot of blood rushing to your brain. your arms feel weak as they support your body weight, your back arches like a cat and legs stretched out—

holy shit, are you hanging off the fucking couch?

“give up and you fall face first onto the damn floor,” the king cackles, as if the funniest joke in the world, as if your cunt wasn’t gushing your essence— begging to be filled and tore apart. your eyes widen comically as your knees buckle just slightly at the feel of his cock rubbing at your clenching hole, “try and keep up, mortal.”

sukuna grips at the base of his first dick, aligning it to your entrance. you hear him hiss as he collects your cum around the circumference of his tip, fingernails digging deep into your waist. fuck, that hurts so good. any further deeper and you’re certain he’d draw blood.

now, you were definitely no athlete the way he took his sweet time teasing you both. you had barely finished coming down from your previous orgasm, and with the excessive blood seeping into your brain, you felt yourself dizzying quicker than you’d anticipated, “kunaaa— hurry, i can’t hold out any longer— ngh fuuuck!”

your nails claw at the wooden floor when you felt him finally bottom out. holy fuck— how many inches was he packing? you could physically feel your pussy stretching out to his size, to accommodate to the intrusion of his ruthless cock into your tight hole. the sudden penetration hurt in a way that had your clit tingling, walls clamping down as if to seize him from moving any further.

“mortal,” he groans deeply, and there goes another spank at your ass. naturally, you clamp down harder. “quit— fuck, squeezin’ so tight. how the fuck am i s’posed to dick you down when you’re grippin’ me like a damn vice?”

“‘s too much!” you argue, though your hips roll around as if to adjust to his unreasonable size. you feel more tears flooding your eyes, and your core aches for a mean pounding. “just. . . gimme a minute,”

“a minute?” he repeats, though his tone is far from understanding. there’s a hint of mischievous dripping from words, and shit, he’s already pulling out. your cunt negates your words, desperately latching onto his length as if to reprimand him from exiting any more. he notices your contradiction, “doesn’t seem like yer pussy needs a minute. gotta tell you baby, i don’t like liars.”

your toes curl as he fucks himself back into you. the moan that rips from your throat is far beneath your ability to stop, and you squeeze your eyes shut. he repeatedly pounds into your cunt, the more the strokes, the deeper it goes. he may as well create an indent in your guts with how intense his thrusts are.

“hnng, ohmyfuckkk,” your back only arches further, the delicious burn of his dick stretching your velvet walls driving your mind delirious. his pace is insane— with every meet of his hips at your ass, you jerk forward, tits jiggling in the process. you feel hands spreading your cheeks for better access, alongside a wad of spit land at your cunt, sealed by a nice slap on your reddened ass.

he’s crushing your cervix. it hurts but you don’t want him to stop. it’s all too overwhelming— the repetitive slaps of his heavy balls at your sensitive clit, the way he digs himself deep into you, rolling his hips to reach all sensitive spots inside your spongy self. god, you can hear how sinful the point of contact between both your bodies as it echoes in the living room.

“creamy fuckin’ pussy,” sukuna grunts, tone so low you assumed he was more so speaking to himself. your wetness had submerged into a thick essence of cream around the base of his shaft, further easing the ruthless slides of his dick into your cunt. you don’t ignore how his second cock twitches against your asshole. “you tryna snatch my damn soul? tsk, greedy slut.”

your arms are giving out. your thighs burn and furthermore— your cunt aches, badly. he’s giving and giving, pounding so mercilessly into your pussy it was as if he were mad at you. you’d never been fucked so profoundly, his tip bullying into you so meanly with the additional mix of blood rushing into your head— fuck, you need a break.

still, sukuna seems two steps ahead of you, slithering an extra arm to your nape and gripping at your hair. two other hands drag your hips backwards in place, simultaneously pushing himself back where he’d once been— snug in the comfort of your warm pussy. “nah, nah, don’t you fuckin’ run away. fuckin’ take what i give you—” he holds you by the hips and lifts you up and down on his cock. you feel your feet leave the couch as a majority of the weight you held onto your palms were lifted. “this is what you wanted. mhm, be a good bitch and own up to your consequences.”

you’re babbling, the idea of you being a toy again for his use, the new angle of his cock protruding inside has drool dribbling down your chin and your eyes rolling to the back of your skull. “too d-deep, feel you in my— nghhh, h-heart.”

“‘s that so?” he chuckles heartily, and your mind is too numb to register the weird sting that grows at your forbidden zone. you’re too fucked out to notice what he has in store for you, “let’s double that shit. pierce right through yer mortal heart and mark it my territory.”

a sharp wail erupts, as you’re now filled to the brim with two girthy cocks. it’s an uncomfortable stretch in an area you were far from accustomed to, but in your current position, you’re nowhere near able to stop him. you’re not too sure you want him too— his cocks rubbing against the thin linen that separates your cunt to your ass.

holy fuck, your brain is turning into mush. he’s fucking into you like a madman— both your holes abused by the same pair of hips diving deep into your insides. your limbs feel numb, despite now being lifted into the air. he’s fucking manhandling you, hands holding all regions of your body still as he grinds his cocks in. what an out of body experience— head and tits jerking to the rhythm his hips set.

your guts are on fire, and you recognize this feeling all too well. the same one that has your eyes crossing to the centre of your face and your wet tongue lolling out of your mouth. your breaths are cut short, your tummy bulging into the shape of the king that’s taken control of your entire being.

holy shit.

“atta girl,” sukuna whistles when you spray him unexpectedly. your muscles clench as does your cunt and ass around his dicks, body trembling from an outwardly orgasm racking over you. sukuna never lets up, your crying only spurring him on more, “oh yeahhh, now that’s an ugly face. hah! turns me on.”

you’re snivelling, and you think you feel snot dripping down your nose. through the window where this creature was once an ugly form on nothingness, you watch your reflection. my goodness— how is he not stopping? you feel like you’re gonna die, your soul getting snatched from various regions, the repetitive strokes of his dicks at your most sensitive areas. holy shit, you’re gonna die.

“c’mon, entertain me some more,” he accentuates each word with powerful thrusts, and in return, receives splutters of more juices. you’re leaking like a damn faucet, dripping down your thighs and soaking your soiled couch. your fluids leak down to meet his pair of balls, now lubricated as they slap more intensely at your abused clit.

you’re left wordless. seriously, arms as limp as noodles as they hang to your side, head lolled forward. your mind feels so empty yet so full, the familiar pain of overstimulation now taking over your body. your muscles spasm violently around him, uncontrollably as sukuna takes and takes more of you.

“thankyouthankyouthankyou,” although not entirely sure what you’re thanking him for, the words slip past your kiss-bitten lips and into the thick air. you feel him press his own mouth at the column of your sweaty back, and your chants continue, “thankyouthankyou—”

“what an obedient lil thing,” sukuna coos, and you feel an extra tongue flick greedily at your tight bundle of nerve. your body begins to seize, stomach caving deeply in as you succumb to the pressure, “who’s my good bitch, hmm?”

“m-me.” you answer so weakly that it unsatisfies him. the tongue torturing your clit now bites down onto the bud and you cry out loudly. shit, you’re squirting again.

“i said,” he repeats himself with more finality. the wet squelching sounds of his cocks bullying at your holes overpower his own voice, and you can’t stop the shaking of your body. and with every pause, his cocks slam further and further in, “who’s. my. good. bitch.”

“meeee!” you hic, drool be damned as it seeps past parted mouth and down your throat. god, this was so above you and yet, here you were, getting fucked like your life depended on it. it hurts, hurts so good that you simultaneously want to push and pull from his embrace.

he holds you up higher, and your legs wrap around his waist with your back tucked into his chest. his hands slide from your waist to your inner thighs, now holding you tight against him. your head falls back onto his shoulder and in the midst of your daze, you feel a fingernail trailing down the slope of your neck.

“yeahhh,” he chuckles darkly, eyes narrowing onto your fucked out figure. his eyes then flick to the imprint of his cock penetrating at your belly, followed by the inconsistent tremors of your body. “‘s what i fuckin’ thought.”

somewhere along the line, you’re left boneless in his strong hold as he fucks and fucks and fucks. he’s everywhere at once, a presence so dominating that you’re left as if you have no other choice but to surrender. but that’s exactly all there is to it, no? a king using his pussy to his satisfaction.

“‘m gonna breed this slutty body full of my cum, make you mine. cause that’s all yer good for— ain’t that right baby?” you nod, because of course you do. he’s pounding some more and more, and the warmth that fills your belly to the brim is anything but surprising. he’s grunting in your ear, a string of profanities flowing into the air. he’s cumming so much from both cocks that it leaks past your bruised holes.

his hips roll some more, and both your cunt and ass clench around him greedily, milking him out for every drop he’s worth. he hums against your damp face, dragging the tip of nose through a multitude of fluids. you have a weak smile gracing your lips, and his arms tighten possessively around your tinier frame, “happy birthday indeed, mortal.”

oh my god, you’re gonna die.

. . .what the fuck did i just write.

[cloudwisp]

𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 · 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐜𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐡𝐢𝐦

contents: smut. minors dni 18+. reader wears a nightgown to subtly get the message across. attempt at seduction. lots of teasing and kissing. first time with him. size difference. fingering. borderline overstimulation. vaginal penetration. mostly sweet lovemaking but implications of leading to rougher sex. sylus has a huge dick (he is standing at 6’2 after all). 2.9k wc.

꒰ note ᰔ based off of this arranged marriage sylus x wife!reader post but can be read as a standalone. smut writing is never one of my strengths but I had fun with this one!! and I can only hope it’s an enjoyable read to those who were anticipating a sequel 🤍꒱

“Doing a little late night reading?” Sylus glances at your form through his peripheral as you enter his bedroom with a light skip in your steps. He’s perched at the end of his bed with a high profile report in hand, and with a tilt of your head and prying eyes you hover over the document between his fingers as you stand before him. You skim through a few lines before he tosses it aside, murmuring that it’s nothing of importance when something more interesting happens to catch his attention and you feel the heat of his gaze doing you a once-over.

Your cheeks warm and you feel a tad shyness wash over you when he quietly appraises your body clad in a gorgeous silk slip with lace embellishments. He hums in appreciation, a slow smirk curling on his lips before he reaches out to grasp your waist and pull you forward onto his lap. He secures one arm around you to keep you in place and his thumb sweeps over the delicate sleepwear and the bare skin of your thigh in a soft, languid motion. “You’ll catch a cold in just your nightgown, kitten. Or did you wear it for me?”

“Maybe I just wanted to change into something a little more comfortable.” You respond with a coy smile and playful shrug of your shoulder which causes the thin strap to fall from just a whisper of movement. He enjoys your little display and act of innocence if this is your way of telling him that you want to deepen the relationship through shared intimacy like normal marital couples do during this time of night. And truthfully, he’s been waiting far too long for this moment to come but he didn’t expect you to offer yourself on a silver platter. What a sweet and precious wife you are.

“I’m sure you could find something more suitable than a flimsy nightgown.” His knuckles brush up along your arm and hooks the fallen strap around his finger to slide it back into its proper place. “But then, perhaps you wanted to tease me, too?”

You click your tongue in disappointment. No matter what you do he was always two steps ahead of you—it’s thoughtful yet infuriating especially when you want him to act more surprised. “Nothing ever gets passed by you, it seems.”

His large hand slips under the lace trimmings of your nightgown and moves closest to your backside for a firm squeeze. “You should know by now how badly I want you, sweetheart. And with you sitting in my lap, looking breathtaking like that. I’m tempted to just rip this little thing off of you.”

You purse your lips into a small pout that’s adorable to him and grunt in disapproval. “What if this night dress is one of my favorites? Don’t I get a say in what you can and can’t tear?”

He arches a brow as though to challenge you by putting the theory into practice. You keep forgetting that he could read you like an open book, and he loves nothing more than proving you wrong at every chance. “Are you saying you wouldn’t enjoy it if I did? I’ll buy you new ones. Better ones.”

You mull over at the thought. “Sounds troublesome. I’ll have to keep making these frequent shopping trips.”

“I just mean the nightgown is in the way of me seeing all of you. You’re more than welcome to wear it any other time, but right now… I want it off.”

“Well, it’s only fair you make the next move.” He groans lowly when you shift your weight in his lap and rest your head against him. You drag your manicured finger down his chest and gently flick at the silver chain looped between his collar. “I did come all this way just for you.”

He understood your meaning and leans down close enough so his warm breath fans over your lips when he tilts your chin to look at him. “If you want me to take off my clothes, you’ll have to undress me yourself.” The soft spoken words in his deep voice send a tingle to the back of your brain, and the lingering kiss he places on the corner of your mouth adds a fluttering sensation in your stomach.

“Still making me work for it? And here I thought I would be cherished and wouldn’t even need to lift a finger.” You bring yourself upright and shove him down onto the bed to climb over him and straddle him. He gives you a knowing smirk at the sound of your cute gasp when you feel just how hard he is for you against your clothed cunt. You make quick work of undoing the underlay of buttons tucked beneath the thick fabric of his tailored dress shirt and remove it entirely to reveal every bit of lean muscle. His build akin to that of a spectacularly sculpted marble statue down to the details of his veins on his strong arms.

“Making you work for it is half the fun, kitten. But just remember who will be putting in the most work tonight.” His hand wanders up your thigh again and moves along the curve of your waist, the expensive silk bunches under his touch and he gropes the fullness of your breast. You feel the strap loosen around your shoulder once more. “Are you liking what you’re seeing? You’re allowed to mark what’s yours, you know. But I’d like to be able to mark you as mine too, wife.” His hungry eyes slowly roam over your matching panties and midriff before he returns your gaze.

Your smaller hand covers his knuckles meanwhile his thumb brushes across your nipple and he revels in the feeling of the bud hardening over the material. “You’re just always so straightforward, aren’t you?” You sensually wrap your finger around the other strap that’s perfectly intact and at your cue Sylus glides his hand down to the small of your back and watches as the dress cascades down to your midsection.

“And you’re so beautiful.” You’re a heavenly sight to behold with the way his amorous stare commits your very existence to his memory, particularly the swell of your lovely breasts that’s heavy with lust and begging for more of his attention. He gently reaches for your wrist and his fingers smooth under your palm to bring your hand up to his face. His thumb runs over the wedding band that binds you to him laying a light kiss against your knuckles, then places your hand over his shoulder waiting for your next move.

You don’t waste another second closing the distance between you two and crash your lips against his for a needy and desperate kiss. Your fingers tangle into his silver locks and your heat grinds against him hoping for some semblance of relief from the ache that’s building inside you. You feel him envelop your breasts fully with each caress and tender squeeze and a little bit of nipple play.

Sylus tastes faintly of sweet, tannic notes from the lingering aftertaste of red wine as your tongue meets his through parted lips. His arms and hands alternate between hugging your body and grip tightening on your hips, bucking himself up into your heat. You feel yourself needing more, wanting more and being closer to him so you hurriedly unbuckle his belt and suddenly the sound of fabric tearing reaches your ears.

You muffle in surprise against his lips and push him back just enough to see him wearing a smug expression. “I should’ve known you’d go against my wishes.” You scoff in disbelief and yet there’s a grin playing across your features that betrays your earlier words. You hate to admit he was right from the start—that you’d find the ripping more attractive instead of being carefully unwrapped like you both have all the patience in the world.

Sylus discards the now ruined piece of clothing aside. He lifts you with ease and your back embraces the cool sheets when he drops you down on the mattress and returns to his full height. “I was never one to follow rules. Besides, you look perfect like this.” You support yourself up on your elbows to follow his movements, and any smart comeback you have dies in your throat when he picks up where you left off by unfastening his belt and stripping out of his trousers. His boxer briefs follow suit and he thinks it’s adorable how you look mesmerized from this performance alone.

Your eyes settle on his huge cock. Almost gawking at it and you unconsciously clench your thighs together. It’s perfectly proportioned to the rest of him—long and notably thicker with an upward center curve and a few prominent veins here and there. He flushes a pretty shade of red that’s gradient from the head down and his pubes are neatly trimmed.

“You don’t have to look so scared, kitten.” He rasps an amused chuckle, and he feels you tense slightly when his hand scales up along your knee to your inner thigh and he dips his fingers between your legs. “I’ll take my time with you so you can handle me.”

Your breath hitches when he feels how drenched you are through your panties. He offers a gratified hum, his handsome face and broad shoulders become your main focus as he closes in on you. “Spread your legs wider.” He murmurs into your ear, and as soon as you give him more access he delves into your mouth for a bruising kiss and chases you down onto the bed. His ministrations on your clit feel absolutely sinful yet so wonderful and your arm wrap around his back meanwhile your hand explores the muscled panels of his upper body and the areas that are within your reach.

A string of saliva connects you both then disappears as your lips come apart. But he doesn’t stray far when the exquisite look on your face is a breath away and he pulls your panties aside to collect your arousal with two digits sliding through your puffy folds. Your lustful sounds escape in a warm exhale as soon as he slowly inserts his thick fingers into your tight pussy, and you’re quite the vision arching your back so tastefully.

“Mmh, that f-feels so good, Sylus.” Your eyes glaze over when he steadily pumps in and out of you, curling so deliciously at your sweet spot and he marvels at the way your cunt is greedily sucking in his fingers. There’s nothing else like him, the way he stretches you and reaches the deeper parts and hits the bits you can’t yourself. He adores the breathless sighs and mewls of his name when he pushes you to the edge even more while kissing you senselessly.

“You sound beautiful. I love the way my name tastes on your lips.” You can feel him smirk against you, but you’re too immersed in your pleasure to respond in words that aren’t broken syllables. He trails open-mouth kisses down to your jawline and along the column of your neck, grazing his teeth and softly sucking on your skin until hues of velvet purple form. Your head burrows into the soft cushion of the mattress, hips squirming as your hand clutches onto his forearm from tension coiling inside you.

“M’gonna come soon, Sy—!” Your pretty moans and pants grow heavier each second, and he loves feeling your body quiver when you’re pressed under him. He’s still knuckles deep inside you with every intention of bringing you up to heaven and back down to him. After all, he doesn’t believe in doing things halfway but can’t pass an opportunity to tease his darling wife.

“You’re getting so close already? I barely got started with you, sweetie.” He chuckles lowly yet his cock twitches as precum oozes and leaks down from the slit of his tip. “Don’t hold it in now. Let go and come for me.”

He’s met with your gorgeous o-face when the euphoric bliss courses through your entire body as your walls tighten around his fingers. Your moans turn into squeals and you try to shove his hand away to soften your orgasm but he doesn’t budge from being much stronger than you. The feeling is more than you can handle when your thighs clamp together to stop his movements. But you don’t want the addictive sensation to leave just yet when he borderline overstimulates you, turning you into a trembling and writhing mess.

You barely have a moment to catch your breath when a chortle escapes you from watching him bring his fingers coated in your cum to his mouth for a curious taste. “Mm. Sweet, just as I thought. You did great, kitten.” He leans down to plant a chaste kiss on your forehead, and the first wave of your drawn-out release slowly ebbs away. “Don’t you think you deserve one more?” Sylus pulls your soaked panties down your legs and casts them aside, leaving you completely bare under his gaze.

“I should hope so. Been wanting for you to stuff me with your fat cock tonight.” You’re still a little breathless when your finger glides down his toned chest in a sensual and playful manner. He makes a content hum at the sound of that with an upward quirk of his lips.

“What a bold and resilient wife I have on my hands. As long as I have you, I’ll never be bored again.” He gladly hoists your leg to wrap around his waist and spits down, giving himself a few strokes making it slick before aligning himself to your dripping cunt. His precum mixes with the remnants of your previous climax with the heavy drag of his tip from your opening up along your clit. He revels in the way your body responds with a little spasm. “I won’t have you going back on your words now.”

The flutter of your lashes steers away from his deep and enigmatic eyes, a nervous gnaw of your lower lips as you anticipate the painful stretch from taking him. “Go slow, okay? Because you know…” He knew you were implying about his sheer size, and you feel him grab hold of your hand and press your interlaced hand against the bed beside your head.

He captures your swollen lips that feel entirely too sweet and intimate, replacing your worries with a gentle tangle of his encompassing love and adoration that seeps into your soul. “I wouldn’t dream about hurting you. That’s a promise. But you have to let me in first.” Your breath hitches when his aching tip probes your entrance, yet the tension doesn’t leave your body until he tells you to focus on him with the exchange of kisses laced with a growing insistence. “You’ll let me know if it hurts, kitten? I want to make you feel good.”

With that said, your sharp nails dig into his shoulder blade and draw red lines at the burning stretch that feels too much yet so good at the same time. Your soft sighs and whimpers fill the hazy room and he’s fucking you slowly with just the tip to help ease the initial discomfort. He searches your face every now and again making sure you’re okay before he continues, letting out a guttural moan when he slips in a little more with each thrust until he carves his way into you completely.

“You’re in too deep—hah. Feel so full and good.” You shudder when he stills his movements, throbbing cock nestled inside you to the hilt and kissing your cervix. There’s a carnal desire brewing in his stomach seeing you pinned under his weight keeping him nice and warm. He wouldn’t mind spending the entire night with you, any plans and commitments he had prior be damned the moment you swayed in through the double doors. “Want you to m-move, please.”

The sound of your polite begging makes him twitch involuntarily, and he could only imagine what desperate pleas you have in store for him tonight and he’s looking forward to it. When your pretty lips implore him to fuck you faster and harder he won’t be able to hold back. After all, he has always been ready and waiting to give himself to you that aligns with your willingness to accept him. There is no love purer than his, this craving he has reserved only for you. “You know you only have to ask, and I’ll give you everything you want. Just be careful what you wish for, sweetie.”

Sylus chuckles at your cute whine shortly after—such a needy little thing you are. He falls into a sweet and slow rhythm that makes you feel each thrust, the head of his dick down to its shape and following the shaft that caresses the underside of your pleasure endings so incredibly good. Your legs wrap around his back and you pull him in deeper because close just isn’t close enough for you. You need to feel the heat of his body sear against your skin as you hold him, and in turn you feel him squeeze your interlaced hand. “Tonight, you’re all mine. Forget anyone else in the world but me.”

[whytheylosttheirminds]

the boy is mine - r.c.

(blurb, 1.4k words, season 4 bf!rafe x gf!reader)

summary he's got finally got his shit tight, but now everybody wants him, and that just won't do...

content fem receiving oral, 18+ minors do not interact

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

The sun was hot and angry, casting a golden glow on Rafe as he cracked another beer and threw it back. You watched his tall frame from your beach chair, lip between your teeth as you took in the sharp panes of his stomach. You squirmed slightly while your eyes tracked the little trail of hair that led lower, lower…

But you weren’t the only one looking. 

The music bumped through someone’s speaker as a group of bikini-clad girls pulled up their chairs and umbrellas right next to your group’s coveted spot.

Your friend leaned over in her beach chair, “think someone’s got eyes for your man.” You followed her nod to the gaggle of bottle blondes with fake tans who were whispering to each other and smiling in his direction. 

“That’s cute,” you snorted.

Rafe was none the wiser to their stares, reaching his hand down to help you to your feet, pulling you toward the water behind him.

“Think you’ve got some fans,” you told him once you were bobbing in the waves, your arms around his neck as he crouched low to meet your eyeline.

He smirked, “maybe I should go sign some autographs.”

You smacked his shoulder, making him laugh despite your pouty frown. He stood from the water, lifting you with him so they could see your legs wrap around his waist. He grabbed your ass, holding you up with ease as his lips found yours.

The girls on the beach were suddenly very busy checking their phones and setting up umbrellas, disappointed looks on their faces as Rafe showed you off.

Back at his house, Rafe lead you into the outdoor shower, turning on the lukewarm water to wash the sea and sand from your body. When he caught you frowning, he tapped the side of your head gently, his signature way of asking what’s on your mind.

“I’m glad you’re so successful, I just don’t like that everybody suddenly wants what’s mine,” you explained.

He looked down at you, eyelids low as his gaze traveled over your body. His hands slid up your sides slowly, thumbs slipping under the thin string of your bikini top, sweeping over your ribs.

“So possessive,” he smirked.

“Just think everyone should know you’re off limits by now,” you whispered, stepping closer to him until you were chest to chest.

You nudged your nose against his neck, guiding him to tilt his chin up and reveal his throat to you. Your lips started out soft, tickling him with little kitten licks between each gentle kiss. When you reached his Adam’s apple, you let your teeth graze over the sensitive skin. Rafe winced, his obvious erection pressing against your belly and making you hungrier for him than ever. 

Finally, you sucked harder, right where his neck meets his broad chest. After a few moments of pressure, you pulled back and wiped the glossy spit from your lips, smiling in satisfaction at the purple-blue mark you left on him. You moved to leave another, but he interrupted you.

“Bet those girls on the beach wouldn’t tease me this much,” he grumbled.

You responded by wrapping your fingers around his throat. He chuckled smugly under your hold, deep vibration tickling your palm. It’s merely a symbolic gesture, your small hand doesn’t even fit half way around his neck. You squeezed harder, but he was still smiling. You narrowed your eyes at him, no more fucking around.

Your hand snaked up higher, around to the back of his neck. As you ran your fingers up over his buzzed hair, you let your nails scratch enough to raise goosebumps along his skin. When you reached as high as you could go, standing up on your tiptoes and still nowhere near matching his height, you pressed his head down hard, nails digging into his scalp. 

Rafe stumbled for just a second before understanding the assignment. He lowered to his knees slowly, shuffling forward until your back brushed against the wall, the water from the shower cascading over your shoulders and down your body.

“Bet those girls on the beach couldn’t make you drop to your knees without saying a single word either,” you taunted him.

He grabbed your hips and dug his fingers in, pushing you back against the wall hard.

“Tell me who else, baby,” you continued, “who else can put big bad Rafe Cameron on his knees? Hmm?”

His stare was icy as he looked up at you from the ground. You returned your hand to the top of his head, redirecting his gaze to your bikini bottoms.

“Show me who you belong to, baby boy.”

You could tell he was considering fighting back, the desire for control almost tempting enough to bring him back to his feet. But then he saw the growing wet spot over your center. Licking his lips, he nodded slowly, like a king admiring his feast.

His long fingers untied your bathing suit strings one at a time, causing the thin fabric to fall away and leave you bare in front of him. You lifted one foot to his shoulder, lowering him even further.

Rafe looked up at you, eyelashes fluttering over his pretty blue eyes as he spread you with his first and middle finger, his tongue flicking between them and hitting right where you needed it to.

“Exactly like that,” you sighed, head falling back so the water from the showerhead ran through your hair like a waterfall. “You know just what to do.”

No rush, he took his time. This was his house. He could take you on any surface, in any room, at any time. And he would. But first he was gonna make you come on his tongue right out in the open air. 

He’d developed this whole neighborhood, practically running this half of the island at this point. All these new houses were filled with people who owed him money. He runs this shit, and yet here he was, on his knees for you. The thought was so fucking hot, you had to bite back your moan.

“Nah let it out, angel,” he coaxed between sharp licks to your clit. “I want you to scream ‘til the neighbors hear, yeah?”

You smiled big at that command, “you want all your new neighbors to hate you?”

“I don’t care what they think as long as their checks clear.” 

He lowered his mouth to your entrance, lapping you up, grinding his nose back and forth on your clit until he was completely buried, covered in you. You couldn’t even feel the water falling on you anymore, your skin on fire with pleasure. Rafe’s hands slid up your thighs and over your stomach, before slipping under your bikini top and palming your tits with perfect pressure.

As instructed, you let your moans and cries fly. When he let one hand fall from your chest so he could slip two fingers inside you, curling at the knuckles and tapping the tips against your g-spot, your whole body trembled.

“Mmm, that’s perfect,” you praised. “You gonna make me come all over your face?”

“Fuck yes,” he groaned, licking a long stripe across your clit. “Make a mess for me, baby.”

He circled back, dragging his tongue the other way as his fingers danced along your walls. Your foot pushed hard against his shoulder, like you were trying to stomp him out, but he held himself up against you, the burning stretch in your thigh only adding to the intense pleasure.

“Oh my god! Yes, yes Rafe!”

You soaked him, one hand on his head and the other digging into the flesh of his shoulder as you came.

When you finally cooled down, body weak and wrung out with pleasure, he stood and guided you even further under the cool stream of the shower. He rubbed his hand along your inner thigh, letting the remnants of your high wash down the drain. 

“Now why the fuck would I need any other girl when you give me that, huh?”

“That’s right, baby,” you agreed with a blissed out grin. “I got so much more for you, too.”

Rafe carried you into the house, and he didn’t even have to ask for you to get on your knees. 

Before you started, he made sure all the windows were wide open so everyone in the neighborhood could hear exactly who he belonged to.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[spectorgram]

FAN BEHAVIOR

characters: dick grayson, jason todd, tim drake summary: batboys with a celebrity! reader content/warnings: fem! reader, fluff

DICK GRAYSON

You’re an actress who has had a meteoric rise, moving from doing small, one-off parts in TV shows to becoming a breakout star on a particularly popular series to being cast in major movie productions

Your stardom is still a little surreal to you and when you’re invited to a wayne enterprise charity gala, you contemplate not going — what business do you have being somewhere with people far more famous than you? But when you tell your agent this, she gives you a look that says you’re insane for even considering declining

You’ll forever be grateful that she urged you to do so because that’s where you meet Dick

He’s standing with Bruce Wayne, chatting with some frequent donors, dressed in a perfectly-tailored navy blue suit when he sees you out of the corner of his eye and he lights up. He approaches you first with that megawatt smile and introduces himself with an extended hand and says, “I’m a huge fan! I’ve been watching your stuff since you were in Legends of the Kingdom!” And the rest is history

Dick goes to every red carpet event you invite him to and he makes it a point to attend every private premiere screening and public opening night

He definitely shushes anyone who talks during your movies or TV shows and does not care if people think he’s obnoxious.

You’re definitely the ‘it couple’ and your faces are plastered constantly on magazine covers and two-page spreads

There are people who try to sow discord in your relationship and their go-to is either pointing out how different you are to Dick’s former girlfriends; that you’re not his type, that this isn’t going to last, etc., or that you’re not talented enough for the fame you have or to be dating Dick Grayson

It definitely gets to you and does nothing to whatever lingering imposter syndrome you harbor but Dick is such a grounding force, reminding you that it’s all just noise and that he loves you completely and unconditionally

At home, he likes to rewind your scenes in shows and movies, and it flatters you as much as it flusters you

He also likes to read through scripts with you when he can and his voices for the various other characters bring you to tears from laughter 

So many intentional and unintentional thirst trap couples pics. Like, a selfie you post one morning — Dick is shirtless and you’re in one of his old t-shirts and its sliding down your shoulder and showing your collarbone and you’re both laying on your stomachs in your shared bed, hair sleep (and sex) tousled with the morning sun making both of you look like you’re golden and glowing 

JASON TODD

You meet Jason as Red Hood first when you’re running from the paparazzi but you don’t know it’s him

They chase you down a couple of blocks before someone tugs you into an alleyway and you’re about to scream for help when you see who it is. Red Hood shields you as the paparazzi pass and when you ask him why he helped you, he simply says, “I hate the paps and you looked like you needed a hand.”

Once he’s sure the coast is clear, he walks you back to your hotel using the back alleys of Gotham. You make several attempts to strike a conversation up with him in the first few minutes of your walk but what seems to catch his interest is when you start rambling on about just finishing Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment. 

You’re disappointed when you arrive at your hotel and you’re rush inside to find a pad to scribble your number on but he’s gone when you return, disappearing into the night

It’s by chance that you meet him again (unbeknownst to you), this time in his civilian identity as Jason Todd. You’re in disguise at a bookstore in Gotham when you bump into him and spill his iced coffee all over both of you, apologizing profusely and offering to buy him another drink, which he accepts. (His voice is oddly familiar to you but you can’t put your finger on why) 

You two keep in touch and start dating privately. The long-distance is difficult at times given your very different and busy schedules and Jason is pretty cagey about what he does but you both make time for each other as much as possible

He tells you that he listens to your music during his workouts and in the background while he’s doing stuff around his apartment. He hums along too.

He recommends your songs to anyone who listens, which raises suspicions in the Batfam, and it obviously doesn’t take long for them to figure out that he’s dating you but he makes them promise to keep it to themselves. 

Whenever you have a concert in Gotham, which you make a point to do frequently, Jason is in the VIP box, bobbing his head and mouthing along to your songs. When it ends, he’s right there backstage with flowers and a thermos of tea for your throat

Your relationship goes public when fans capture of video of you two leaving one of your concerts together, Jason’s leather jacket draped over your shoulders

You eventually move to Gotham to be closer to him and the two of you spend every free moment either of you have together, making up for lost time. 

You still try to keep your relationship as private as possible but fans eat up any crumbs they get, including the occasional selfie of you both 

He is your biggest inspiration for songs and also your biggest help. You love bouncing ideas off of him and he likes sitting with you when you pick at your guitar strings and mumble a half-formed melody

(You eventually do find out that he’s Red Hood when he tumbles through the window of your bedroom, bleeding profusely, and you have to take his helmet off to assess the damage)

TIM DRAKE

You’ve known Tim since you were kids given that your parents ran in the same social circles

You started out as a child model in department store clothing catalogs. Tim did some shoots with you too but while his parents eventually stopped auditioning him for such jobs, you continued until the present day, and you’re now a well-known supermodel 

You two have been friends forever and the internet laps up your interactions together. There are compilations of videos and photos of the two of you at banquets and red carpet events and memes with text like “when will someone look at me like that?”

Before you two even started dating, there were articles about a supposed romance and sexual tension between you two. In interviews, you would vehemently deny anything asked about it and reiterate that you two are just good friends

At some point, however, you start seeing your childhood friend in a different light. He’s kind, brilliant, funny, attentive, and very handsome. It’s not that you didn’t know that before but it’s different now. You find yourself shying away his casual touches and suddenly conscious of your actions around him — did you laugh too loud? Is your hair in your face? Does he know how you feel? Can he tell?

You don’t want to ruin your friendship, as cliche as it sounds, so you did your best to keep your feelings under wraps, which resulted in you distancing yourself. When Tim would text to congratulate you on your latest Vogue cover or runway show, you would simply shoot a simple ‘thanks!’ text back instead of the usual ‘THANK U’ followed by five heart emojis. 

He confronts you about it one day and you’ve never really been a good liar in front of him so you tell him, bracing for a gentle rejection but instead receiving a kiss. 

You made a hard launch post with him on Instagram and received hundreds of DMs of people saying they were vindicated in believing that “friends don’t look at each other like that”

Tim is in the front row at every single runway show you have, dressed impeccably in an expensive suit. He takes pictures of you and visits you backstage with your favorite sweet treat.

After fashion shows and other events, you return to his apartment to let your hair down and put your feet up. You do your skincare routines together, sheet face mask and all, and snuggle on the couch for some TV or just to hang out and talk endlessly

You’re very active on social media with him and you two have a lot of couples posts together. When you both have time, you do Instagram lives where people watch you two make dinner together or answer some questions from viewers. A fan favorite is when you choose outfits for each other.

During a runway, you blow a kiss at Tim in the audience and the camera zooms in on his face, where he just watches you with a lovestruck expression and bright red ears — it’s in almost every video compilation that’s titled something like ‘15 minutes of Tim Drake being a simp’

[luveline]

spencer x reader where she kisses his forehead and he’s 🥹🥹

“Spencer, are you dead?” 

Spencer ignores your question by accident. Heavy head in hand, he’s slowly sinking closer and closer to the hotel breakfast table to rest. His neck twinges with the effort it takes to stay up. 

“Spencer,” you say more sharply. 

His eyes track like the air is honey. He settles on your sluggishly while offering no greeting, tiredness pulling at him. “My eyes hurt,” he offers. 

“Make you some tea.” 

“Um, okay.” He’s disappointed when you leave, then dozing, face pressed to his desk as itchy eyes press along lids. It feels as though his eyelashes have turned inward. 

You return with a cup. Spencer grabs it blindly, lifts his head to squint one eye open. “What?” he asks. 

There isn’t tea in the cup. There are tea bags, two of them, wetted and leaking tan beige along the white china of the mug. Distinctly no tea. You must be tired too. 

“They’re for your eyes, Spence. They’ll make your eyes hurt less. The caffeine restricts your blood vessels to calm the inflammation, and the tea itself soothes sore skin.” 

“How do you know that?” he asks. 

You rest a hand on his shoulder. “I read about it in a book of modern home remedies. It really works. Here, can you tip your head back?” 

Spencer is very, very tired, but your voice is nice, your fingertips gentle against his neck, so he tips his head back. He doesn’t know how terrible he looks, having forgotten his untucked shirt, his rumpled sweater vest, his hair sticking up all over the place. 

“Close your eyes,” you murmur. 

Spencer shuts them. 

“It’s cold,” you warn, “but it’ll feel nice.” 

Spencer doesn’t care. He waits for you to move. The tea bags you place on his closed eyes feel cold and at first they sting just a touch, perhaps tea finding its way through his lashes, and he can’t confess to noticing a difference in soreness. 

“Hey… what’s this? It looks like it hurts?” you ask, drawing a short line over the side of the bridge of his nose. There’s an indent there that feels like a bruise.

“I fell asleep at my desk with my glasses on,” he says. “They dug in.” 

“You were up late, I’m guessing. Maybe you should go back to the room.” 

“No, I can’t. I’ll be okay. Thank you for the… tea.” 

Your hand rests tentatively against his cheek. He can’t open his eyes to see what you're feeling, and he doesn’t need to. There’s emotion to be felt in your slow strokes, how your thumb rests along his jaw as your nail scratches to the top of his ear, then behind the shell of it. It’s intimate enough to summon a different kind of tiredness. Exhaustion swapped for content. He could sleep in the curve of your palm all day. 

“You’re welcome,” you say. “I’m gonna take them off for a second to check the damage.” 

You take them. Your breath draws near. 

A warmth presses to his forehead atop his left eyebrow. Spencer doesn’t know what it is until your nose graces just above it, and your lips part —it’s a kiss. You’re kissing him sweetly, your fingers sewing through his hair. 

He peels his sore eyes open to look at you. You lean back as unhurried as you’d ferried forward, your hand cradling the nape of his neck. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” you ask. 

Spencer stares up at you. In that moment, tired, aching, and balmed, he’s completely in love with you. You must see a little of it, your lips parting again in an unnamed emotion. It’s sheer luck that you’re the only one awake with him, because if any of his teammates saw the way he was looking at you they’d never let him forget it. And, he gets to see your reaction. Your partial smile. 

“Did that help?” you ask. 

You must mean the tea. “I feel better.” 

“Yeah? Do you…” Your voice turns to cashmere, a thread of bemusement tugging at the corner of your mouth. “Would another one be okay?” 

Spencer can only nod as you wrap your arms around him and position your mouth at the soft skin where his hair meets his forehead. When you kiss him again, his eyes flutter shut. 

“You really need some help with your insomnia,” you murmur. 

Spencer wonders if maybe you’d want to be that help. You must have melatonin in your kisses.

[boyfhee]

박성훈 、COUPLE CODE

sunghoon pouts when he's jealous.

featuring ⋆ rich boy! sunghoon x fem reader

contents ⋆ light kissing, jealous sunghoon ( 1061 )

notes ⋆ brought the heat back is making me want to write jealous fics for every single member i can't do this. anyway RICH BOY HOON WLCM BACK!!!!

“you’re pouting,” you say, reaching out to grab his hand but he slides it out of yours ever so swiftly. 

“i’m not pouting,” sunghoon mumbles, not even caring to look at you as he makes long strides to a secluded corner, away from the chatter of the charity event his parents dragged him to along with themselves. 

“you’re not good at lying,” you snort, following him wherever he’s going. he gives you a little run for himself when he’s like this— literally, because you keep increasing your pace, having a hard time keeping up with him. and when you finally do, hands around his wrist to stop him. “c’mon hoon, you don’t have to be jealous,”

“jealous?” he huffs, jerking his hand out of your grip as if you’ve insulted him, the words bruising his ego. “you’re saying i am jealous? what makes you say that?”

“it’s written all over your face,” you reply with a sigh, eyes glazing over his expression and the very obvious pout that he keeps denying is there. you simply stare at him for a few seconds before shaking your head and reaching out to cup his face. “you’re jealous and you’re pouting. it’s the most adorable thing in the world,”

and sunghoon would be lying if he said those words didn’t give him butterflies, especially with the way your hands are on his cheeks, squishing them a little to make his lips jut further in a pout. 

“you don’t know what you’re saying,” he huffs in mock offence, eyes looking away from your face as if he does not like this, albeit having no attempt at pushing you away. 

you know he’s just being dramatic, fists clenched on his sides even though you know his hands are itching to wrap themselves around your waist and pull you closer. it’s cute, even though you don’t particularly enjoy seeing him upset and it’s obvious that he can sense how much fun you’re having, which makes him pout even more.

“is this about jongseong?” 

“jongseong?” his eyes narrow at your face, the said name ringing in his head again and again as he takes your hands and pulls them away from his face, although still holding him ever so gently, contrary to the look in his eyes. “you’re on a first name basis with him?”

“we’re friends,” you giggle at the way his eyes squint further at your words— and he couldn’t be more obvious with that pout on his lips. “i don’t attend these events often so dad wants me to socialise,”

“you’re socialising with the enemy,” sunghoon glares at you, prompting out a chuckle from you at his words. he frowns at your reaction, making you laugh even more.

“you hate him, i don’t,”

“boyfriend’s enemy is your enemy too. that’s the couple code,” he states bitterly, fingers slowly interlacing themselves with yours. his brows are furrowed in irritation, lips still in a never ending pout— you think you love this version of sunghoon more.

sunghoon doesn’t pout.

as he claims, most of the time, even though you know it’s not really true. he pouts when you don’t give him attention, or when he calls you in disappointment to cancel the dates because his dad wants him to assist him with work and election campaigns— you can hear that pout through the phone when he speaks. sometimes, when your phone rings up between your lazy make out sessions, he pouts again, and you have to make sure your eyes are on him as your fingers trace over his lips and cheeks while you’re trying to get over that call as soon as possible. 

even now, when you two are silent and he’s looking down, fiddling with your fingers, you notice how his lips switch between a pout and an irritated scowl, the way he huffs at how absurd it all seems to him. and sunghoon is not a very jealous man— well, not until now. you’re used to him brushing it off when you tell him about some guy trying to get your number. ‘well you turned him down and you’re here in my arms so i don’t care—’ the usual response. 

although, you know about the rivalry between him and jongseong— jay, as sunghoon would like you to address the other guy— nothing could’ve made you assume that your dear boyfriend would be jealous over just a ten minutes conversation with him. you didn’t want to make him jealous, but that doesn’t mean you’re not enjoying this little exchange. 

“no more talking to jay. he’s the worst,” he mumbles, looking up at you with the exhibition of his bruised pride in his eyes. “and no more calling him jongseong too,”

“we’re friends, hoon,”

“he was interested in you,” he insists and words get stuck in your throat. it’s not a secret that jay had tried asking you out several times. there’s no doubt he was— or is still interested in you, if there’s any chance. you wouldn’t want to make sunghoon upset over that either way.

“valid,” you nod, agreeing with him to console his shattered ego, although trying to come to a conclusion in the middle. “okay, no more talking to jay when you’re not around,”

“good,” sunghoon wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer before pressing his lips against your cheeks. “he sucks anyway,”

“true, i don’t like his attitude,” you nod in an attempt to humour him.

and he’s not exactly convinced, since you and jay have been friends ever since you changed majors last year. he doesn’t ponder over that much, pouring all his attention on you and peppering your face with tender pecks. 

“and he’s not cute like me either when he pouts,” he pulls back after capturing your lips in a chaste kiss and puts his forehead against yours. you know you two should be getting back to the event, knowing your absence will not go unnoticed by either of your parents, but sunghoon has been through a lot today— as he will say it later— and so you decide to hold him in your arms a little longer.

“of course not,” you say with a kiss on the top of his head when he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck. his continues to draw soft circles on your waist through your dress, something that makes you hug him tighter. “you’re the cutest,”

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