#it does get a bit more body horror than I do but that is not a negative!

[inseobts]

(Accidental) PDA

characters: zoro, sanji, law, ace, kid

words count: around 300-500 each

masterlist

Roronoa Zoro:

The crew is gathered at a lively tavern, drinks flowing, laughter echoing off the wooden walls. You’re seated next to Zoro, who, as usual, seems more focused on his drink than the conversation. His arm is draped casually along the back of the bench, and at some point, probably without realizing it, his fingers start lightly tracing circles on your shoulder.

It’s absentminded, subconscious, but you notice.

And so does everyone else.

You don’t say anything at first, just letting yourself enjoy the rare show of affection. Zoro isn’t exactly the touchy type, so the feeling of his rough, calloused fingers against your skin is something to savor. You lean into him just a little, and his grip unconsciously tightens.

Then, Sanji snickers “Didn’t take you for the clingy type, Marimo.”

Zoro’s fingers stops instantly.

You can practically hear the gears turning in his head as he replays the last few minutes, piecing together what just happened. His arm stiffens, and when you glance up, you find his face frozen in mild horror, like his own body has just betrayed him.

“What the hell are you talking about?” His voice comes out a little too sharp, too defensive, which only makes Sanji smirk wider.

“Oh, nothing” The cook takes a drag of his cigarette “It’s just cute, that's all. Didn’t think you’d be the type to get all touchy in public.”

Zoro yanks his arm back so fast you almost fall sideways “I wasn’t!” He groans, rubbing his face like he can physically scrub the moment from existence “It wasn’t on purpose.”

You stifle a laugh, reaching up to pat his arm “Relax, Zoro. It’s fine.”

He glares at you, but there’s a bit of redness creeping up his neck “I don’t do that stuff in public.”

Sanji hums, clearly enjoying this way too much “Mhm. Sure. Just keep telling yourself that.”

Zoro grumbles something under his breath, clearly ready to die on this hill. But even as he crosses his arms and scowls at his drink, his knee remains pressed against yours under the table.

Accidental or not, you’ll take what you can get.

Vinsmoke Sanji:

The sun is setting over the Sunny, casting golden hues across the deck. Dinner is long over, but most of the crew lingers, full and satisfied. You sit beside Sanji near the railing, listening to the breeze and the distant laughter of the others. He’s in a good mood, smiling as he talks to you about a new dessert he’s planning, something with caramel and sea salt, he says, because “a contrast of flavors makes things more exciting, mon amour.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname but don’t bother fighting it. Sanji flirts like he breathes, and by now, you’ve just learned to go along with it.

Then, it happens.

You’re mid-sip of your drink when Sanji, without thinking, reaches out and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

It’s so natural, so smooth, that it takes you a second to process what just happened. The conversation around you continues, but you feel frozen, heat creeping up your neck.

Sanji, of course, remains utterly unaware. He keeps talking like nothing’s happened, his fingers lingering near your ear for just a moment before pulling away. It wasn’t even a grand gesture, just an absentminded, casual thing. But the way it makes your heart stutter? Absolutely unfair.

Unfortunately, someone does notice.

“Oi, Sanji,” Usopp teases, leaning over the table with a shit-eating grin “Didn’t know you were already at the ‘tucking their hair back like a romance novel protagonist’ stage.”

Sanji blinks “Hah?”

Nami chuckles “That was smooth, even for you.”

Sanji frowns, clearly replaying the last few seconds in his head. His hand twitches, as if only now realizing what it just did. He looks at you, at your slightly wide eyes, at the way you’re still holding your drink midair like an idiot, and then… it hits him.

“Oh—!” His face erupts into red “I—I wasn’t—! That was—!”

He immediately buries his face in his hands, groaning “Shit… I didn’t even notice I—!”

“You touched their hair, Sanji,” Usopp deadpans, grinning. “That’s practically a confession.”

Sanji sputters, waving his arms dramatically “It’s not like that! I— I just—” He stops, then sighs, rubbing his temples. “Mon dieu…”

You watch him, amused. The smooth-talking, ever-flirty Sanji, reduced to a blushing mess over one small gesture.

You smile. Maybe you didn’t mind it so much after all.

Trafalgar D. Water Law:

Trafalgar Law doesn't do public displays of affection. The man acts like love is a classified disease, and he’s the only doctor qualified to handle it.

Which is why the Heart Pirates are absolutely living for this moment.

It starts small, Bepo makes an offhand comment about how you and Law seem weirdly close today. And by that, he means Law has casually draped an arm around your waist while reading his book.

Then it escalates.

Law, your usually grumpy, no-nonsense captain, absentmindedly feeds you a bite of his food at dinner. Like it’s nothing. Like this is normal.

The crew goes silent.

Then whispers.

Then snickering.

Shachi elbows Penguin “Did you see that?”

“I felt that” Penguin whispers back, eyes wide.

“Are we being punked?” Ikkaku mutters “Is this a medical experiment or what?”

Meanwhile, Law, completely oblivious, keeps eating... until he notices just how unnaturally quiet everyone has gotten. He glances up, fork mid-air, only to be met with a table full of smug grins and barely contained laughter.

“…What?” he asks, narrowing his eyes.

Bepo smiles innocently “Nothing, Captain. Please, continue being adorable.”

Law blinks. Then slowly turns to you, as if just now realizing what he’s done.

You, being the absolute menace that you are, grin and open your mouth again, waiting for another bite.

A muscle in his jaw twitches.

“You’re enjoying this” he mutters.

“Oh, immensely.”

Law exhales through his nose, looking between the crew and you. For a second, it seems like he’ll retreat, go full grumpy captain mode,

but instead, he smirks, leans in, and presses a quick kiss to your cheek.

The chaos that erupts is instant.

Shachi falls out of his chair. Penguin screams. Bepo claps. Ikkaku nearly chokes on her drink.

Law, of course, acts like nothing happened and goes right back to eating.

But the red tips of his ears? Oh yeah. That’s a win.

Portgas D. Ace:

The bonfire crackles, casting a golden glow over the Whitebeard Pirates as laughter and conversation fill the night air. You’re sitting next to Ace, comfortably close, the warmth of the fire mingling with the heat radiating off his skin.

He’s relaxed, grinning as he chats with Marco, one arm casually slung over the back of the log where you're sitting. It's nothing unusual... Ace has always been a little touchy without thinking much of it. But at some point, his fingers start absentmindedly playing with the ends of your hair, twirling and tugging in slow, lazy motions.

You blink.

The conversation continues like nothing’s happening, and Ace doesn’t seem to notice what he’s doing. It’s almost endearing, the way he’s so comfortable, so unaware, until Thatch smirks over his tankard and loudly clears his throat.

“Well, well” Thatch drawls, tapping his mug against Marco’s “Didn’t realize we were in the middle of a romantic drama. Should we leave you two alone?”

Ace freezes mid-twist of your hair.

His fingers tighten ever so slightly before he slowly lets the strand slip from his grip. The realization crashes down on him in real-time, his freckles disappearing under the deepening red of his face.

“Huh?” His voice cracks slightly “I...That’s not...”

Marco chuckles, sipping his drink “You’re adorable when you’re oblivious, yoi.”

Ace immediately throws a handful of sand in his direction, scowling. “Shut up!” His voice is a little too high-pitched to be threatening “I wasn’t—! It wasn’t on purpose!”

“Sure” Thatch grins, wiggling his eyebrows “Accidental flirting. A classic.”

Ace groans into his hands, looking very much like he wants the ground to swallow him whole. You, on the other hand, are biting back a laugh as you lean in slightly.

“Didn’t know you liked playing with my hair” you tease, just loud enough for him to hear.

His head snaps to you, wide-eyed, before he grumbles something incoherent under his breath. You’re pretty sure you catch the words never living this down.

Still, despite his embarrassment, he doesn’t move away, his warmth lingers beside you, a silent contradiction to his flustered protests.

Eustass Kid:

The atmosphere in the tavern is loud and chaotic, just the way the Kid Pirates like it. The crew is drinking, shouting, and causing their usual brand of mayhem while you sit beside Kid, with your drink. He’s in a rare good mood tonight, smirking as he argues with Killer over some pointless bet.

You’re just relaxing, letting the warmth of the room settle into your bones, when you feel it... Kid’s hand resting on your thigh.

Not just resting. His fingers drum absently against your skin, his grip solid, like it belongs there.

Your brain short-circuits for a second. He’s not the type for public affection. Hell, he barely acknowledges feelings exist, so the fact that he’s touching you like this, so casually, is… unexpected.

And the worst part? He doesn’t seem to realize he’s doing it.

You glance down, then back up at him. He’s still engaged in his conversation with Killer, completely unaware of the way his thumb is now slowly tracing circles against your leg.

It’s fine. It’s totally fine. You can just pretend like this isn’t affecting you...

"Oi, Kid" Heat suddenly snickers from across the table, eyes gleaming with mischief "y/n is so red that it like they're about to explode. Didn’t know you were the handsy type."

Kid pauses mid-sentence "Huh?"

He follows Heat’s gaze, straight to where his hand is resting on you. His fingers twitch. You feel the exact moment his brain catches up with his body, the slow realization creeping onto his face.

The entire table is watching now, grinning like they’ve just witnessed something hilarious.

"Shit," Kid mutters, yanking his hand away like he’s been burned. His face twists into a scowl, and his cheeks—just barely—tinge red "I wasn’t—!" His voice raises, defensive. "It was just—!"

Killer snorts "Yeah, sure. Just absentmindedly groping them in the middle of a crowded tavern. Totally normal."

The crew erupts into laughter. Kid growls, kicking Heat’s chair out from under him, sending the man crashing to the floor "Shut the hell up!"

You bite your lip, fighting back a grin.

Even as he huffs and glares at his drink, grumbling about stupid bastards and their stupid comments, his knee remains firmly pressed against yours under the table.

Accidental or not, he’s not moving away.

And neither are you.

[pinky-the-bunny]

More of me yapping about John doe.

I heard that in police investigations if the body is unidentifiable, they call them "john doe". considering the idea of him is that he doesn't see himself as sans or gaster anymore, and that he sees himself as a corpse possessing another corpse, I thought john doe fitted him.

I head cannon that gaster would've got into the core in his late 30's or early 40's, and sans in his mid 20's. So either 1. He is gasters age stuck as a man in his 20's or 2. He is both of their ages combined.

No.

Vanilla ice cream. 🍧

He does not have a job anymore.

Other than killing whenever he feels like it, (which is surprisingly rare) he likes to talk to people and learn more about them.

Killing and researching. (He was a royal scientist after all)

Things he likes to do: Hanging out with his alternate sons. Things he doesn't like to do: not hanging out wth his sons.

When he killed everyone in his world, Mostly sans and papyrus.

Seeing them all forget him as he stares them all back in the core, knowing he couldn't do anything about it.

Its the same as ever.

I was really getting into cyn from murder drones and dusttale a bit and I kind of thought to myself: 'what if I made a sans AU out of the idea of cyn?'and after some thinking, john doe was born.

Psychological horror, I guess? He REALLY likes to read into peoples past if he sees them directly in the eyes.

He is a cis man and is bisexual. (I headcanon both gaster and sans as bi, so it makes sense.)

None.

He has no parents.

I like when he fucks with peoples emotions. Wether it be about their lost loved ones, their past, their morals, anything he knows about them; he'll tell them all about it.

I wrote a canon story about him once. Its called 'like father like son'.

No, He could easily snap my neck.

He is a bit scared of the dark cause it reminds him of being in the core, But not too much.

He likes to say dust is his rival.

Since January 9th.

17.

Ask Game for someone’s OC(s)

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

🌺- Do they have any love interest(s)?

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

💼 - What do they do for a living?

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

🎯 -What do they do best?

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

🍥 - What age were you when you created the OC?

[schrijverr]

I Didn’t Mean to Say I Do, but I Do. I Do. 47

Chapter 47 out of 50

Secret marriage of convenience buddie slow burn AU, where Buck and Eddie have been married for years so Buck could adopt Chris and no one at the 118 knows.

In this chapter, Eddie tries to convince the nurse at the VA hospital to let him go back out there with Athena as his backup, while Buck continues his search for Chris, which is getting more hopeless by the second.

On AO3.

Ships: Buddie

Warnings: self loathing, injury, minor character death mention, grief

~~~

Chapter 47: Don’t Give Up

Buck has been stumbling around for hours. His head is woozy and he feels weak. However, he keeps pushing, keeps going, keeps walking, keeps swimming. He has to just keep swimming. Like Dory. He can’t let Chris down.

He’s looked everywhere and it seems Chris has all but disappeared from the face of the earth. That has implications he doesn’t want to think about.

So, he doesn’t. He just keeps swimming.

Just keep swimming.

Just keep…

He tilts, but rights himself with a start, before rubbing his face to wake himself up. He can’t fall over now, he has to find Chris. Has to keep swimming.

In the distance, he sees lights. They’re swaying, but maybe that’s just him. Whatever, it doesn’t matter. What matters is getting there. People are collecting there. People are going there. Chris is people. Chris could be there. Buck just has to get there, just has to keep swimming a little longer.

The only thing that keeps him awake is the stabbing pain in his leg. He’s pretty sure that is not good, but he can’t think about that right now. Not when he’s just reached the VA hospital.

“Are you okay? Let me get your name and some help,” a nurse stops him.

“No.” Buck shakes his head. “No.” He can’t be helped yet, he can’t stop. If he stops, he sinks and he can’t sink. He has to keep swimming.

“No?” the nurse frowns.

“I need to find Chris,” he manages to get out. “Christopher Diaz. Did he come here?” Now that he’s close to getting a possible answer, adrenaline courses through his veins, propping him up enough to make it through this.

The nurse checks the papers. Neither of them can know that Christopher is at that very same hospital already, just a few meters away, his name on a list, but one that has not gone around to be updated yet. “I don’t see him on here. You may wanna check over there at the black tent.”

Buck turns slowly to see what the nurse is talking about. The black tent he indicated is a sad place, with body-bags being filled every moment as more and more of the dead are counted. The harsh reality of a natural disaster made visible.

In turning to look at the black tent, he does not see less terrible aspects of a natural disaster. The people that made it through, the people that have found a loved one, instead of lost them. Like Bosko and Ronnie, and even Eddie and Athena.

Athena, who assures Eddie she’s okay as she scans him for injuries, by saying: “Not my blood.”

“Ronnie?” Bosko asks the form on the stretcher, eyes wide with horror. Eddie’s eyes instantly follow her, managing to add it not being Athena’s blood up to it then being Ronnie’s.

However, luck is on their side here, because Ronnie manages to open his eyes, smiling tiredly as he asks: “Bosko?”

“Y- Yeah, it’s me. Everyone’s okay, they’re all okay,” Bosko cries.

“Tha’s- Tha’s good,” Ronnie nods haphazardly.

Bosko sends Eddie and Athena a worried look and Eddie waves her away. He has new back up now in the form of Athena. Bosko needs be to with her Captain. She’s done more than enough for him. He has family in his corner now, Bosko should be backing her own family.

“What’s going on here?” Athena asks, catching on that something is wrong.

“She’s not letting me go back out there,” Eddie answers immediately as he points at the nurse. He feels a bit like a little kid, tattling to his mom, but he doesn’t care. “Buck is out there, ‘Thena. He’s out there and she won’t let him look for him.”

Understanding dawns on Athena’s face and she says: “Bobby said you’d be out there looking. You still haven’t found him?”

Eddie’s throat feels tight as he swallows and shakes his head. “No.” The weight of that word heavy in his stomach. It’s been a while since he’s run into anyone who’d seen Buck and he knows what that can mean, even if he doesn’t want to face it. It’s why he has to go back out there. Has to find him.

Athena closes her eyes for a moment, as if processing a hit. Eddie can relate to the feeling, he’s been feeling it for hours now. He feels like he failed Buck. Like he failed everyone. He has always sucked at being a husband, but at least it didn’t get Shannon killed.

“Hey, don’t do that,” Athena says, seeing it on his face. “He’s out there, you can’t give up.”

His lip wobbles and he feels like he’s drowning, like the water clawed its way up his legs and crawled down his throat, forcing itself into his lungs and into his skull, pushing at his eyes as it fills him, drowns him. With quiet voice, he confesses: “I love him. I love him and I never said and now I might never get to.”

“Oh, Eddie,” Athena sighs, pulling him in a hug.

Eddie buries his face in the crook of her neck. He lets himself teeter on the edge of breaking down, shaking silent sobs, but never letting a tear fall. It’s hard to step back from that ledge when you’re already tumbling down. However, he forces himself to step back, to suck it up and look Athena in the eyes as he implores: “I have to go find him.”

Athena meets his eyes for a moment, then nods, before barking at the nurse: “Why are you keeping this man here against his will?”

The nurse looks surprised by the turn of events as she explains: “We want to avoid people getting lost in the dark, those who make it to the collection points have to wait there until they can be evacuated. I can’t let him go out there until he’s with his unit, especially not with a child.”

“Give Chris here.”

“What?”

“Give him here, I’ll keep him safe and send you out with some of my people, tell them to let you go your own way. Or maybe help you, if you’d like,” she says.

Relief and gratitude wash over him at the offer and he quickly undoes the sling, moving Chris from his back to his hip, before setting him down on the ground. He kneels in front of him, draping the blanket around his shoulder as he says: “You heard that, mijo? You’re gonna stay with Athena, so I can find papi for us.”

“No,” Chris shakes his head stubbornly. Eddie pinky promised that they’d find papi. They as in the two of them. Chris isn’t just going to be left behind.

Much like his son, Buck is stubbornly refusing to take what he’s being told. “No. No. No.” Again he’s shaking his head in denial. That black tent can’t be where today ends. Buck just needs to keep searching, needs to keep going, keep swimming. Chris is out there, he has to be. He can’t have killed Chris. His own son. Eddie’s son. Their child. He refuses to believe it.

An empty void, an ache, claws at his insides. It feels as if the pit of his stomach has turned into a black hole, trying to suck his entire being into it. He cannot continue to exist if Chris is truly dead. If Buck truly killed him. He- He just can’t.

“I’m really sorry, sir,” the nurse says sympathetically. However, it’s clearly not the first time he’s had to break terrible news to someone today.

“No!” Buck doesn’t want to believe it. Chris isn’t on the list. He’s not on there. They might have a list of the dead, but Chris isn’t there and until he sees Chris’s body, he’s not going to believe it. He refuses.

With almost inhuman willpower, he forces himself up. Up and moving. He can’t stop yet. He has to keep swimming. He has to get back out there. He was weak moments ago, but not now, not as he shrugs off the hand that tries to stop him.

“Sir. Sir! I can’t let you leave again,” the nurse protests as he grabs at Buck’s shirt to stop him, but Buck just keeps walking.

“Papi?” Chris’s voice interrupts Eddie’s patient explanation as to why Chris can’t come with him, no matter how badly they both want to.

The switch of his tone is enough for Eddie to pause, then he hears Buck’s voice and his head whips around as he practically gives himself whiplash.

Behind them, Buck in the middle of a commotion. There’s a nurse pulling at him and telling him to stop, while Buck stubbornly tries to walk on, walk back out into the dark.

Buck shouldn’t be standing. His face is all scratched up and there are multiple cuts on his arms bleeding sluggishly. To not even mention the way he keeps nearly buckling, nearly tilting over, even as he puts up a fight.

Despite it all, he looks like a mirage in the desert to Eddie, like a hero from the tales of old, persevering in the face of impossible odds.

Then it hits him that Buck is there. That he found him. That he is about to slip through his fingers once more, because he is absolutely winning that fight. The thought is enough to jolt him into action, calling out: “Buck! Buck!” Athena has Chris, he needs to run now, before Buck is gone. Before he loses him once more.

The yells don’t register. Buck is so focused on getting to the exit, getting out of here, shaking this weight, so he can keep going, keep swimming. So, he’s completely taken by surprise when a weight smashes into him from the side.

He lets out a groan as he is unbalanced. For a moment, he thinks he is being tackled, but whoever hit him is spinning so he can take Buck’s weight. Then the smell hits him. It’s waterlogged and the sweat scent is stronger than usual, however it’s unmistakably Eddie. It’s home.

His senses refocus and he can feel Eddie’s arms around him, hugging him tightly, the mop of brown hair right under his nose, as Eddie says: “Oh my god, I’m so glad I found you. I found you. You’re here. I got you.”

Buck feels frozen. He wants to melt into Eddie, wants to tuck himself into this bit of warmth, this bit of comfort. Today has been the worst day of his life and all he wants is the shelter Eddie has always offered him. The safety.

But how can he? How can he let Eddie comfort him, when he lost their son?

“Eddie…” he starts with no clue how to go on. His vision blurring and throat tightening until noise becomes almost too difficult.

“Buck?” Eddie asks, looking worried as he pulls back to take a better look at him.

He doesn’t deserve that worry, not with what he’s done. Eddie must not know, must not have realized what his presence here means. He’s in his firefighter uniform. He’s probably been out there helping people, oblivious to what has happened.

Right now, the choice to let Eddie do his job while Buck did his, seems monumentally stupid. He is not ready to break this news to Eddie. He probably never will be. However, he can’t keep this to himself, not for his own comfort. Eddie deserves to know. It will break them forever, but Buck is slowly starting to realize this might be something he can’t fix, because how do you fix the death of your child?

Buck takes a deep breath and says: “Eddie… We, uhm- me and Christopher, we were at the- the beach and, uhm- and listen to me, okay? I swear to you, okay, I tried. And I just- but I- Eddie. I- I don’t know how to say this, but I- I lost him.” His voice breaks and tears start up as he gasps: “I lost our son.”

Eddie is shaking his head and Buck knows the feeling. He also didn’t want to believe it, but it’s true. It’s what happened. It’s not until he said it, until he’s looked Eddie in the eyes and said it that it became real.

Chris is gone.

Their son is gone.

Grief hits him hard and he has to look away, but Eddie doesn’t let him. There’s a hand on his cheek, on his face and Eddie is forcing him to look him in the eye. Buck screws his eyes shut, not wanting to see the blame, the anger.

However, Eddie’s voice is gentle as he says: “Buck. Buck, look at me. You didn’t lose him. I got him, okay? I got him, you didn’t lose him. You saved him.”

Buck doesn’t believe it, eyes snapping open, but Eddie looks to be truthful and indeed, he can hear a voice that can’t belong to anyone other than Chris call out: “Papi! Papi!”

“Chris? Christopher,” Buck calls back, frantically looking around before he spots Athena coming up behind Eddie, carrying Chris in her arms.

Eddie steps to the side, never breaking the contact with Buck, just shifting so he can take Buck’s weight, while he moves to meet Chris in the middle.

Athena hands Chris over to Eddie, who immediately makes sure Buck can reach him. The two of them falling each other in the arms as it becomes a group hug. Chris’s curls are dry since so much time has passed, still smelling like he used to do as toddler, even if it’s buried under the smell of dirty sea water.

“Oh my god, Chris,” Buck cries, tears rolling down his face and into Chris’s hair as he weeps, hands gripping the back of both Eddie’s and Chris’s shirts so tightly. He never wants to let this moment go, never. He’s never been so relieved before. It doesn’t matter what has happened before right now, because he gets to hold his family again.

“Papi, we found you. We saved you like you saved me,” Chris says, excitedly and proud.

“You did, Superman, you did,” Buck smiles through his tears. It leaves him weak in the knees and he officially buckles as today finally catches up with hi,

Eddie makes sure to soften his descent, holding him closely as he lowers the three of them to the ground. If he weren’t so exhausted, he would be more obsessed with how strong Eddie is that he takes both their weight easily and controlled, even after what must have been a heavy day.

They end up on the ground with Buck sitting sideways between Eddie’s legs, leaning against his chest to stay upright. Chris is more on Buck’s lap than Eddie’s at this point. It shouldn’t be, but it’s the most comfortable Buck has felt all day.

“I got you,” Eddie promises and Buck swears he feels a brush of Eddie’s lips over his forehead when he does.

Though, it must be the exhaustion that overtakes him, because he starts to pass out. Still, the words – however imagined they may be – knit the skin of his heart together. He didn’t break this beyond repair and that brings a lightness to him, even if he only manages a crooked grin as he mumbles: “I know, you always got me,” and then he’s out.

When Buck goes slack in his arms, Eddie’s heart stops for a second, but then he feels puffs of breath against his neck. So when Chris gives him big worried eyes and asks: “Is papi okay?” he says: “Papi’s gonna be okay. We got him. Can you get off or do you need help?”

“I got him,” Bobby’s voice is suddenly next to them, picking Chris up after getting a nod from the boy.

“Cap?” Eddie can’t help but say, not having heard or seen them arrive, however, when he looks, the whole 118 is there.

“He was really out there?” Hen says with a concerned frown. “I mean, I know we’ve been looking, but it didn’t feel real.”

“Yeah, and I need a stretcher, right now,” Eddie calls out. He doesn’t have time to catch up with them. Buck needs him, Buck trusts Eddie to have him. He’s not going to let him down. Not again, never again.

Like professionals, Hen and Chimney spring into action as Eddie calls out orders for them to get a drip for Buck; fluids to replenish what he lost and antibiotics, he’s been out there in the filth with open wounds. There is no stretcher available, but there is a bed for Eddie to carry him to.

Despite not usually being the paramedic, the other two let Eddie push them out of the way as he does it all by himself. They give him some looks, but Eddie doesn’t doubt Bobby recounted his breakdown at the engine of the 136 to them. So they must know something about his state.

He’s probably also being obvious, but he doesn’t care. He almost lost Buck today, he’s never going to let him go, not without letting him know how sorry he is for running and how much Buck means to him. How much he loves him.

Eddie has been running, but trying to find a way back. To have a natural disaster push them back into each other’s orbit feels like a sign. If Eddie is ever going to believe in the universe, it will be because of this, because it gave Buck back to him, because it didn’t make someone he loves leave him again.

Pretty soon, Eddie got Buck hooked up and sleeping on a cot. He is efficient and good at his job and he does nothing but the best for his Buck.

With the work done, Eddie feels his own exhaustion catch up with him. So, he has collapsed onto the chair next to Buck’s bed, his hand in his own, Chris now on this lap. Together they watch Buck sleep.

To assure Chris, Eddie says: “Papi is sleeping like he was in the hospital, remember that, mijo? He had to rest so he could get better.”

“Yeah, he had to sleep for forever,” Chris nods. “It was so boring.”

Eddie snorts, then agrees: “Yeah, it was kinda boring, wasn’t it. But we’re gonna let him sleep, right?”

“Of course,” Chris says very seriously. Then he yawns and mumbles: “But only because I’m maybe a little sleepy too. He’s not allowed to be boring forever.”

“He won’t,” Eddie laughs, kissing the top of Chris’s head as he softly says: “Go to sleep, Chris. I’ll watch over him.”

“Alright, daddy, wake me up if papi does?” Chris ask.

“I will,” Eddie promises.

Chris drops off within seconds. It seems like that is the signal the others have been waiting for, because they move closer from where they’ve been hovering. Bobby speaks first: “Seems like you found him.”

“I did,” Eddie says cautiously.

“Seems like you followed my orders,” Bobby says, giving him a slightly mischievous look, as if he knows Eddie didn’t in the slightest.

Some of Eddie’s nerves settle at that and he grins. “I did. Bosko’s here too. Don’t say you doubted me?”

“Never,” Bobby tells him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Somehow, it doesn’t feel like he’s joking around anymore. Like he genuinely never doubted Eddie. It feels weirdly nice to be trusted like that, even when he knows he doesn’t really deserve it with how he fucked up these past few months.

Hen checks Buck over, Eddie doesn’t take offense, he keeps his fingers on Buck’s pulse to assure himself he’s okay. She looks up at Eddie and asks again: “Was he really out there all day?”

Eddie’s face darkens as he remembers today and he nods. “He was. Must have pulled at least two dozen people out the rubble or to safety on the way. I don’t know how he did it. A hospital’s gonna need to take a look at that leg again.”

“Guess he probably won’t be re-certifying in a month,” Chimney grimaces in sympathy.

“God, he’s gonna hate that,” Hen also sympathizes. “Pretty sure he was climbing the walls with the need to do something. Isn’t that right, Eddie?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Chimney asks incredulously.

“I haven’t been home in two weeks,” Eddie says, unsure why he’s suddenly confessing all this. He can’t even look any of them in the eye, just staring holes in Buck’s forehead, to where one of his curls is sticking to it. He should straighten that out.

“What?” Hen chokes.

“You’re in the dog house, Diaz?” Chimney asks.

“I fucked up and I ran,” Eddie says with shame, before determination hardens him again. “But I’m gonna make it right. I’m not going to fuck up like that again. I’m doing better now. I just needed to get back and now I’m back.”

He misses the way everyone exchanges looks behind them. All of them have their own theories about what’s going on, however, this isn’t the moment to prod or push. So, Chimney breaks the moment by clearing his throat and saying: “I’m gonna call Maddie, tell her we found him.”

“Good idea,” Bobby says. “I’ll call the Chief, explain why I’m sending you home and getting some transport for Buck. He needs care for that leg.”

“Thank you,” Eddie says, meaning more than just the organization of right now.

Soon, he finds himself carrying a sleeping Chris on one hip, before carrying an equally unconscious Buck into the back of a van. No ambulance, because they can’t spare one, definitely not an air lift, because thankfully he’s not critical enough for that, but a van is already pretty good.

However, a van means it jolts more than an ambulance, especially with how rough the terrain is in the aftermath of a tsunami. So when there is a particularly hard bump, Buck blearily opens his eyes, not fully conscious, but not unconscious either.

Like the stubborn, lovable dumbass he is, he starts to get up, groaning something about needing to find Chris and needing to keep swimming.

“You found Chris,” Eddie assures him, letting go of Buck’s hand so he can push him back down, before he hurts himself. “Look, here. Chris is safe. Rest, Buck.”

“Christopher,” Buck says with a relieved smile when he spots Chris.

“Yeah, Christopher,” Eddie confirms, his heart bursting with love and affection. It’s probably written all over his face, but he can’t push it down, even if he wanted to.

Buck now looks at him, face clearing up as he exclaims: “Eddie! You’re here. You came back.”

“I did,” Eddie says, heart wrenching slightly at how awed Buck sounds when he says that. “And I’m never going to leave you again,” he adds, because he can never let Buck doubt that again.

“You promise?” Buck asks, vulnerable edge to his voice.

“I promise,” Eddie says, feeling equally vulnerable. It makes him a little uncomfortable, laying himself bare like that, so he jabs: “You’re stuck with me, Buckley. Married me and everything. You aren’t getting rid of me that easily.”

“Good. Don’t ever want to be rid of you,” Buck tells him with a goofy smile.

Eddie can feel the blush color his cheeks at that. He doesn’t know what that means yet, but it makes him feels warm and fuzzy inside. That horrible crush – deep love, but shush – creeping up on him and making him feel like a middle schooler writing his last name next to Buck’s and doodling hearts around it.

Fortunately, he doesn’t have to figure out how to react to that, because Buck slips back into unconsciousness immediately after.

Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop one of the elderly ladies they’re sharing the van to wistfully comment: “Och, young love,” which makes Eddie’s ear burn. It’s going to be a long drive to the hospital.

~~

A/N:

No, confession, I know, boooo, but I wanted to keep it a Chris moment, because that scene in canon rips me to shreds every single time and then it didn’t fit with the vibes.

However, fear not, the slow burn is almost a flame! (would be kind of rough if it wasn’t with only three more chapters to go, but still). Let’s see if Eddie can keep up that talking streak when outside a disaster zone xp

[ask-the-totally-real-peppino]

[Hey, I've seen you in posts about Red Pep! What do you think about this cute frog?]

(I am not sure of this 'Red Pep' you speak of! Unless you mean Red and Oni of @onippep ! Since they are the only Peppis I have seen that consistently wear red, but I do not recall them ever mentioning me or this blog

If this is not what you meant, then please let me know!)

[burritowitch]

there's a black label blue beetle book in my head that will not ever ever leave now i don't think

[arolesbianism]

Every second of every day I remind myself that I'm going to need to learn to draw gore and body horror and every second of everyday I simply keep imagining it instead of drawing it because I don't even wanna try finding usable refs for the shit I wanna pull off (it also doesn't help that searching up refs for skinless human anatomy is. Annoying to do if you wanna draw someone who isn't made of muscle and nothing else)

[moonlight-prose]

a request, if i may, of praising old man logan as he filfthly eats you out and it makes him combust the more you praise him? okay running away again

speak of her over my grave and watch how she brings me back to life

a/n: look at him taking off his glasses in absolute shock of this ask- no okay does old man logan have a praise kink? i would raise it higher and say every version of logan has a massive praise kink. this is a man who wants to know he's doing good in life. his love language is acts of service so he might get to hear a pretty thank you. also i'm not sorry for how feral this got. i have no explanation.

summary: he knew he loved you when your words begin to piece his heart back together. he knew he loved you when he flourishes at your praise. he knew he loved you when nothing in this world could matter but the sound of your voice telling him you love him too.

word count: 3k+

pairing: old man!logan x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, oral (f receiving), praise kink, logan is obsessed, dirty talk via reader, he is so pretty when he blushes, manhandling, cumplay, cumeating, overstimulation, crying, he's needy in this one, angst, tortured soul of an old man, reverence, religious trauma + greek mythology hints.

He can feel the strings of fate pull tight around his broken heart. In a failed attempt to draw him back together. To piece together an organ that barely beat for him anymore. He might have felt it once, before it broke. Before it gnarled itself like the branches of a dying tree, one half twisting away from the other in a desperate attempt of survival.

He deemed it a useless part of his body until you came along. You with your smile that held enough cloying sweetness to choke him as he stood helpless. Silently begging for you to say his name. To bring him back to life.

Whatever horrors that plagued his mind—endless nightmares that promised nothing but anguish—suddenly came crashing to a halt at the sight of you. So pretty in your denim jeans and velvet top. An angel seated in the center of a bar that held more filth than you deserved to be near. Logan couldn’t fathom that luck struck him this hard.

Not when death had already claimed his soul; notched yet another tally in the endless wall of people that came before.

He felt the dirt pack under his nails as he clawed his way out of the grave he put himself in. Years spent alone—a man lost to the ravages of time—had turned him bitter. With rough edges and biting words that stung far more than he intended. How could he believe he deserved to live after he contributed so much to the endless pool of blood that tainted his soul? How was he allowed such softness after biting off bits of brutality his whole life?

Logan was pretty sure he survived on borrowed time that had already run out. He could feel death breathe down his neck as the days went on. A reminder that what little of his life remained would be spent suffering. And he found that accepting it was easier than battling against the will of God, or whoever toyed with his lifeline.

It was far easier to die than find a reason to live.

Until you said his name.

Softly. Sweetly. Reverence wrapped in a tight grasp of need.

You brought him back from the edge—took his hand and refused to take no for an answer. You and the safety of your touch; the promise in your kiss. You dragged him into a life he didn’t earn; one that almost tasted too sweet—too sour.

After near a decade of being buried beneath the dirt, he felt himself collapse above ground and suck in his first real gasp of fresh air. Alive, once more. Hell spit him out with a vow of love and who was he to argue against it.

His fingers dug into your plush thighs, tugging them open to see what lay between. He marveled at their softness, eyes wide and awestruck at the sight of you spread beneath him. You practically glowed in the dim light of the bedside table. Yellow, musty, yet angelic when it caressed your body with its heavenly touch.

He wondered if this was real life; your nails digging sharply into his shoulders gave him the answer.

"Logan," you sighed, voice high with need.

The strings pulled taught. A vice like hold that drew him to you.

Maybe that's what this unutterable feeling was. The gnawing pit at the bottom of his heart. A greed he'd never indulged before—too afraid of what it might ask for next. He wasn't a man who asked for much. Rather someone that found himself far too content with nothing. But tonight he found his lips forming the words of a false prayer that his mother taught him as a child.

Hail the angel in his bed. Hail every good fucking thing you brought into his life.

His teeth sunk into your thigh, body jolting at your responding moan. Fingers dug into his hair, tugging at the mussed locks with a high pitched whine. You were a needy little thing, but Logan found he desperately wanted to be needed.

He smiled laving his tongue over the tender spot, working his way up to where you dripped for him.

So slick. So perfect.

Saliva filled his mouth. "What do ya want baby?"

Your chest heaved; he could feel the heat of your body under his palms. "Your m-mouth Logan."

His eyes trailed along your brow covered in a sheen of sweat. The room was thick with the humid air of the outside world. But that didn't deter him from craving your skin near his. The pressure of your thighs around his head a welcome weight. If he sunk his teeth in where the curve of your leg met your hip he knew he could draw out that soft choking noise he longed to hear on days spent driving alone.

If he had his way he'd crawl into you to seek your serenity straight from the source. He'd never divulge about the ache that chewed him up on the inside, but Logan wondered if you knew. Could you tell how much he craved you? How much he couldn't live without you.

When your glittering eyes met his, the resolve he spent years building cracked like glass. You peered into him as if he was a stained glass window. A god you were more than happy to worship.

"You want me to lick this pretty pussy?" Fuck, he sounded drunk off your taste already.

His mouth hovered over your throbbing clit, your scent now filling his senses. Overwhelming him with what he wanted most. But he needed to hear it. The lilt of your begging; the soft echo of your need that washed over him like soothing river water.

He couldn't live without it.

"Yes," you sobbed, thigh twitching.

The string sliced his heart open, blood pooling onto the white bed sheets. Oh what a sweet death your love made. Oh...what a bittersweet way to go.

He'd die right now if you asked him to. Hand over his heart on a silver platter if you so wished it. Maybe that made him far too gone for his own good, but Logan couldn't remember a time in his life where he got this. Safety. The hope of love burning far too bright and far too hot for him to fly near it.

Yet there he was. Icarus happily soaring in your sun like glow.

"I got ya honey," he murmured. "Gonna take care of what's mine."

You nodded frantically—tears welling up in your eyes. "You take care of me Logan."

The breath in his chest stuttered, eyes dark as the words fell past your swollen lips. He wanted to explain why his cock twitched against his stomach. Why he now leaked into the sheet with heavy panted breaths. But every time he came up short with the words needed to form an answer.

"Yeah I do sweetheart," he breathed. "Don't I?"

"Uh-huh."

"Take care of what belongs to me."

There was no warning when his hands dragged you closer with a rough tug, mouth closing over your clit with a desperate suck. A cry wrenched from your mouth, sparks sharply traveling down your spine. He licked through your slick with a growl. Hands an unbreakable press against your thighs.

The sight of your body bowed, mouth open for small gasped breaths that never came, snapped something in his mind. He was an old man. Well past his years. But the taste of your pussy along his tongue brought back a ferocity he often tamped down in his younger age. He felt the feral want claw at his chest, and answered it with a broken snarl.

Swallowing down every drop you gave him, he plunged his tongue into your entrance, thrusting messily until a smear of your shiny slick began to coat his mouth. It covered his cheeks and clung to the hair of his beard. He'd clean it out later, taste you on his tongue until he was aching for another go. But for now he was preoccupied with the way you cried for him.

"Oh fuck!" Your thighs trembled over his shoulders, hips canting down to drag yourself along his tongue. "So good."

He shuddered, eyes rolling back at the sound of your praise. You caught it within seconds, lips pulling into a breathless smile that left him gasping for air. His teeth nipped at your thigh briefly as his hips ground into the mattress below.

"You like that baby?" you breathed, thumb smearing your own slick against his cheek.

Something hot washed over his body. A needy sick and twisted ache that he'd never indulged in before. He wanted to be a good man to you; longed to be needed. And fuck if you didn't give him everything.

You were his walking wet dream. His future handed off and wrapped in a neat little bow.

"L-Love your tongue Logan-" A high gasp tore from your throat when he dived back in. Slurping at your clit with a heady moan as you dragged him closer. "Taking care of me so well."

His hips canted down into the bed, fucking his cock along the warmth of his stomach, as you gushed into his mouth again. Eyes zeroed in on your face, pupils dilated as he growled into your flesh. You no longer could see the man you loved, but the feral side he tamped down during the day. The animal he longed to release in your presence.

"Fuck I'm gonna cum."

His arms looped around your thighs and with a sharp yank, he had his face buried deep enough to suffocate himself. You sobbed an incoherent version of his name. Nails clawed at his shoulders, but Logan could feel the pulse of your clit under his tongue.

He sucked it into his mouth with a grunt, rolling it along his tongue as you trembled with the oncoming shocks of an orgasm that threatened to destroy you.

Tears dripped down your cheeks and Logan felt the satisfying part of his heart begin to stitch itself back together. The strings were tight enough to numb his pain. To quell the flare of agony.

That used to be all he knew, all he counted on most days. When there was nothing left and he'd propped the shovel in the dirt—his grave open and waiting—he stumbled right into your arms. He found his reason for living.

Heat curled around his spine as you shook with the impending orgasm—the stimulation on your clit practically debilitating. He grunted into your soaked flesh, eyes narrowed as he chased the release that pulled his stomach taut. But this wasn't for him to indulge in; this wasn't his pleasure.

So with a throaty moan you felt reverberate along your body, he scraped his teeth along your clit and watched as your body went stiff.

"Logan!" you cried, fingers scrambling for purchase on any part of him you could reach.

You gushed into his awaiting mouth, praises of it's so good, you're so good falling upon his ears like the whimpered prayers of a devout worshiper thanking your god.

"Taste so fuckin' good," he mumbled, drunk on what you gave him.

He didn't care that you were jolting with each pass of his tongue along your pussy. He didn't care that you were shocked with overstimulation, small broken cries of his name muffled by the press of your thighs against his ears. He licked at you until he couldn't breathe. Buried his tongue into your twitching entrance and sucked out your cum with a happy hum.

"P-Please." You tugged at his hair, pulling him off you with a sob. "I-I can't anymore Logan."

"'M not fuckin' finished," he said, eyes glazed and face coated in your slick.

You made a mess of his face. The light catching along where you spilled into his mouth and along his throat. And still he wanted more. He'd spend hours between your thighs, burning your skin with his beard, if it meant he could divulge in your sweetness.

"It hurts-"

A grunt rumbled in his chest, his arms tugging you back even as your feet kicked along his back. "Just one more honey. Yeah?"

You shook your head. "B-But-"

"Thought you said it was good."

"It is."

"Then lemme be good for you." He wanted to tell you that the world went quiet between your thighs. That all his grief, all his pain, lessened when you sobbed his name.

He wanted to show you the string that looped his heart to yours—the only thing keeping him alive—and thank you for bringing him back from the dead. But words weren't his forte. Violence had become the only tenderness he knew and you didn't deserve the rough edges of an old man. You should have more.

But when you let him touch you like this—caress your skin and lick between your folds—he felt as if he was a man who finally was worthy of someone as precious as you. He could pretend he didn't bear the brunt of a fucked up soul.

The weight on his chest lifted when your tear filled gaze met his and you nodded. Small, barely there, but it was enough for him to seal his mouth back over you with a ragged moan. Your body shook as his tongue slid through the seam of your pussy. The tip nudging against your clit—careful to draw the pleasure from your body slowly.

He didn't want to give you pain. His heart wouldn't survive that. But he was a broken man; someone who begged for more even as his teeth sunk into what was already given.

You were his meal. His sacrament in the midnight hours until dawn broke across the darkened sky. You were the other half of his soul.

How could he not indulge in your sweetened tang until his tongue went stiff?

"I love you," you sighed, eyes rolled back when he sucked at your pussy, a wet low moan echoing in the air. "My p-perfect husband."

The cold press of his wedding band against your thigh drove him over the edge. You weren't officially married. Didn't have the backyard wedding with a preacher to match. But Logan had placed a ring on your finger near a year ago, sliding one over his own with the vow of forever cemented in his words.

Even if that didn't mean much in the eyes of a god who abandoned him near a century ago.

"Oh-"

Your head tipped back, mouth dropping open as his fingers dipped into your wet heat. Thrusting lazily until he found the spongey patch along your walls—driving the pad of his middle finger into it with a needy moan.

He knew it wouldn't take long for you to fly off the edge of a second release. That didn't make watching you climb to that peak any less satisfying. The sight appeased his soul. It gave him a chance to breathe; let him know that after so much bad—after so much pain—he could do something good. He could bring you to the edge of pleasure and drag you over again and again.

He could finally be the man you believed he was.

Not the animal they created.

"C'mon," he muttered. Eyes fixed on the shape of your breasts as your body curved off the bed. Hips dragging along his face with a stunted cry.

A wail bounced off the walls, piercing his eardrums with the symphony of your cries. His fingers rapidly pumped into you with a squelch that had heat burning his cheeks—lips pulling your throbbing clit into his mouth as you broke. The climax slammed into you; battering your already swollen pussy.

Logan could feel his cock swell at the sight.

"Fuckin' perfect," he grunted, teeth bared as he clambered to his knees and wrapped his fist soaked in your slick around his leaking cock. "'M gonna cum sweetheart."

Your eyes fluttered open, fingers digging into his thigh. "Please. Wanna see it baby. Look so pretty when you cum Logan."

His chest tightened, body shaking while you watched in rapture as he fucked his fist rapidly. He wouldn't fucking last, could feel the burning consume his body, but something held him back. The string around his heart yanked him away from the edge, tearing a cry from his throat when his frustration peaked.

You could see it—the glimmer of need in his dark eyes. This wasn't the first time he longed for your words. It certainly wouldn't be the last.

So you spread your legs and sat up slowly—arms wrapping around his shoulders to bring his lips down to yours. A soft moan was muffled by your mouth; the peak of his release within reach. He could practically feel the tips of his fingers graze it.

"Cover my pussy baby," you mumbled into his mouth. "Be good for me and mark what's yours."

The growl came from the very bottom of his chest when he finally came. Your name was a bitten out snarl pressed to your mouth in an open mouth kiss as he spurted over his knuckles. He pumped his cock to milk every drop; eyes fixed on the way it covered the swollen lips of your pussy. Dripping down to your entrance that fluttered at the sight of his sweaty and crimson tinged face.

"I fuckin' love ya honey," he murmured, hand cupping your chin to drag your lips back to his. "Best thing that's happened in my life is you."

You smiled, thumbs pressing to his cheeks. "Love you too Logan."

Clutching you close, he felt the string go loose. The breath finally rushing back into his lungs at the sight of your eyes glowing with the kind of light that brought him back to the first day The night he met you in that shitty bar—alcohol the only thing on his mind until he saw you.

The night you spoke his name over his covered grave and dragged him back to life with a smile.

[nerdlvr]

not so little is it?

(MDNI)

younger jaemin x older reader , small age gap , jaemin is brothers best friend , ur brother is mark lee , big dick jaem , jaem is bigger than reader , size kink if you squint , kinda public sex (ur both in the kitchen & living room and mark is in his room) , harsh blowjob , cowgirl yeehaw , couch missionary , jaemin is cocky and mean , pet names like a lot , light mocking , degradation kinda , jaemin refers to himself and y/n in third person sometimes idk , jaemin knows how to use his dick damn... , requested here !

it  had been the fifth time that night that you had called jaemin baby. and not baby in a i wanna fuck you type of way, baby in a little boy type of way. If only you could go into his brain and see all the things jaemin would do to shut you up. maybe he’d stuff your mouth with his big, hard-

“babyy, are you listening? The popcorns ready!”

jaemin felt his eye twitch, a small fake smile directed at your pretty face. he shook his head softly, turning his head back to focus on the movie.

“dude you need to stop calling him that, we’re not even that much younger than you.”

jaemin could not agree more with your brother.

he was never one to hold grudges, it was childish, unlike him. but for some reason you had been more annoying than usual tonight, the high pitched ‘baby’ and the sweet toned ‘minnie’ only itching him in all the wrong places.

he turned to the clock in mark’s room, 2:00 AM, well shit. had he really laid here for 3 hours straight thinking about your annoying mouth? his eyes drifted down to his now tented boxers, well double shit. maybe thinking about your mouth right next to your sleeping brother wasn’t the best idea. he needed a walk.

.

the cool air from the fridge numbed his senses, his nipples perking up at the soft breeze.

ice cream, butter, cheese, ew. did mark have anything without milk? wait isn’t mark lactose intoler- “his fridge looks like something out of a horror film right?”jaemin felt the hair on his body rise as he jumped, the fridge shutting loudly behind him, a hand coming up to his chest, “jesus you scared me.”

you giggled as you poked his bare chest, "sorry didn't mean to scare you baby. was just coming out for a snack."

baby, did you like to test his patience? he pushed your hand away as he let out a loud huff, "don't call me that."

your soft giggle continued to ring in his ears, your hands now moving to pinch the fabric of his boxers, "call you what, bunny boy?"

his eyes drifted down to his boxers, small bunnies adorning the fabric. he grabbed your wandering hand, smirking as you let out a pained whine. "does your mouth do anything good besides spout nonsense?"

you ripped your hand away from his tightening grasp, your free hand coming up to massage the sensitive skin,"what's your problem jaemin? i'm being nice to you and you're acting like a brat!"

your eyes widened slightlyy as a scoff left his mouth, lips quirking up into a smirk, "nice? you're treating me like a fucking child y/n. i stopped being little years ago. maybe you've been too busy bitching to even notice!"

your heads turned quickly as you heard shuffling from mark's room, his sleepy groans muffled by the thick walls.

"whatever tough guy, i'm leaving, your attitude ruined my appetite."

his arms were quick to stop you, trapping you against the kitchen counter, "where do you think you're going? where's my apology?"

it was your turn to scoff, eyes rolling at his questions. "apology? grow up na jaemin, you're not getting an apology if i did nothing wrong." you pushed at his chest, muscles firm against your hands. when did he get so strong? you mumbled out a low move embarrassed by your lack of strength against him.

he chuckled, breath fanning against your face, "give it one more go baby, maybe this time you might get it."

you bit your lip, head turning to look anywhere besides his bare chest, "this isn't funny, move or i'll-"

"you'll do what y/n?" he licked his lips, smirking down at you.

damn you na jaemin, damn you and those strong muscles, damn you and those plump lips, damn you and this new attitude that is so so hot. you gulped loudly, looking away as you tried to sneakily squeeze your thighs together, heat building between you legs.

"something wrong?"he leaned in closer to you, lips just one breath away. you turned your head further away from him, edge of the counter pressing deep into your back.

"you think being immature is cute jaemin? get off of me!"

he pressed his forehead against the side of your head, breath fanning against your ear. "no-"

he lifted his leg slightly, using his his knee to gently press against your core. you bit your lip to stifle a moan, head lowering just enough to watch his knuckles turn white against the counter. "but you clearly do. been squeezing these pretty thighs together since i started raising my voice at you."

you kept quiet, eyes squeezing shut as his knee pressed further against your heat, "who's the baby now hm?" you ignored him, brain zoning into to light pressure being applied to your clit, only a light hum being your response.

"answer me when i'm talking to you." your eyes fluttered open as he gripped your chin, moving your face so you'd look at him, "m-me jaem."

he tilted his head, smirk growing wider, "what was that?"

you swallowed your pride. there's no way you're gonna miss this opportunity. "i-i'm the baby jaem." he could help but chuckle, leaning in to plant a wet kiss on your cheek, "good girl, you learn quick. now lets put that bratty little mouth to good use."

you sunk onto your knees like your body was possessed, hands coming up to tug at his boxers. his cock sprung free, slapping his toned stomach. he was big, tip flushed and leaking.

his hand was quicker than yours, grabbing onto the base of his length to slap it against your cheek."not so little huh? call me baby again little brat."

"b-bab-" he chuckled as your words came out gargled, his cock being shoved into your mouth to silence you, "you look better with your mouth full." your eyes squeezed shut as you focused on your breathing, jaw relaxing slightly.

he was heavy on your tongue, smooth skin rubbing against the sides of your mouth. you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him in further. "shit angel, mouth so good, keep doing that."

you bobbed your head against him, spit threatening to spill past your lips. the sight above you was heavenly, pink hair held up with his hands as his mouth hung open. he let out soft pants as he tried his best not to thrust into your mouth. "let me- fuck- let me do it."

his hands moved into your hair to hold your head steady, hips starting to pick up a rhythm. you batted your lashes up at him, soft moans spilling from your mouth as he pressed deeper into your mouth, "look so pretty like this- just wanna-"

you gagged loudly as he pushed the rest of his length into your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat. he held you there, your nose pressed against his pubic hair as you swallowed around him.

his groans went straight to your core, thighs squeezing impossibly tighter. he pulled you off in one swift motion, laughing as you gasped for air, eyes watery and lips swollen.

"look at you-" he slapped your face lightly, "acting so grown and can't even take my cock- get up and turn around."

but you remained on your knees, whimpering as you wiped at your mouth. you hadn't noticed you were crying until jaemin leaned down, warms hands rubbing your cheeks, "awe you crybaby, minnie's cock got you all worked up hm?"

you pushed his hands away struggling to get up, legs sore from the kitchen tiles. his arms wrapped around your waist pulling you against his chest, "still so stubborn, baby just needs some good dick fucked into her so she'll learn hm?"

he laughed at your weak yelp, his arms lifting you up as he walked towards to living room, "now you're gonna show me how much you need this dick."

he sat on the couch, placing you right on his lap, face to face with you. "go on put it in." your cute pouts did nothing to him as he moved his arms to rest them on the back of the couch, head nodding to urge you to continue.

you whined softly as you hovered your hips over him, hand coming down to push your panties and sleep shorts aside. your cheeks burned as you both looked towards your heat, wetness dripping onto his length. he threw his head back as he let out a soft groan, "fuck baby, what would mark think about me having his big sis dripping all over me hm? like the idea of getting fucked by me that much?"

you nodded quickly shame evaporating from your body as you began to rub his tip along your soaking cunt. he hissed under you, his hands gripping the couch cushions, "don't tease baby, wanna feel you."

you sunk down slightly, hollowly fucking yourself on his tip. your bottom lip was trapped between you teeth, body leaned back as you gripped onto jaemin's thighs. he couldn't help but groan at the sight of you, body covered up by your pjs but your pussy on full display.

he moved his hand to your tummy, fingers slipping under your shirt to pull the fabric over your tits, "fuck, you little minx, look at you dripping on my cock- shit, keep going."

you whined loudly, soft pants leaving your desperate lips as you sunk down on him, the stretch hot against your walls."c-can't jaem, too-"

his hand gripped you breast, rolling your sensitive nipples against his fingers. he pouted up at you, a slight tilt to his head, "can't what baby, hm? minnie's dick to big for my little princess?"

you huffed in embarrassment, cheeks burning red as you threw your head back to hide.

"that's okay angel-" his hands traveled down to your hips, a light chuckle leaving his lips as he lifted his hips to meet yours. the loud slap of your hips vibrated against the living room walls, a soft cry leaving your lips as you leaned forward, stuffing your face into jaemin's neck.

"it's okay-" his hips began to move, your slick making it easy for him to slide against your walls, "you can take it baby see? you're so good for me- fuck"

you whined against his neck, walls tightening around his length as he slapped his hips up. "jaem, jaem, please, oh my- feels so good baby, so deep."

he laughed at your small squeak as he suddenly picked you up, placing you in the corner of the couch, your back pressed against the soft cushion,

"i'm gonna need you to be quiet now okay princess? don't want mark to know how good i'm fucking his big sis hm?"

you nodded quickly, mouth hanging open as he slid back into you without warning, a small moan leaving his lips. "fuck jaem i can't- just please, want it so bad jaem, plea-" your hand flew to your mouth to muffle your loud moans, his hips moving to repeatedly slam into you, his length angled in just the right position.

"fuckkk yes bunny, look at you. pretty pussy sucking me in so good." his pace was relentless, one of your hands having to muffle your moans and the other gripping his arm for stability. you sunk into the couch, cushions bouncing under you from each thrust.

he leaned down close to you, body radiating heat against your chest, "want you to cum baby, i'm so close, so clo- fuck yeah baby just like that, so fucking tight shit."

you squeezed around him your stomach tightening as his words filled your ears. all you could think about was jaemin. his strong arms surrounding you, his warm body enveloping you, his soft moans urging you to cream on him and- oh. he hand flew down to your core, finger pressing gently on your clit, "come on angel, cum for me, wanna feel it, need it baby, please."

you squeezed your eyes shut, teeth clamping around your hand as you arched your hips up. the tight feeling in your stomach radiating throughout you, body shaking as you let go.

he stilled inside you, head pressed into your neck to muffle his own moans as he came inside you, whimpers of your name leaving his lips as he panted against you, "fuck, fuck, fuck, so good, so good for me bunny, you did so good."

he kissed around your neck, lips trailing up onto your lips. the kiss was sweet, soft touch of his lips making your body tingle. his grip was warm against you as he held your trembling body.

"shhh, it's okay, you're okay-" he kissed your cheeks, hands rubbing your sides, "minnie's here baby, i got you, everythings-"

you sunk deeper into the couch as you heard the fridge door slam shut, watching as jaemin's eyes landed on the kitchen entrance, "jaem?" mark's sleepy voice broke the silence, "what are you doing out here?"

jaemin stuttered slightly, pink cheeks still evident against the dim lighting,"i- i was just-" you heard mark take a loud sip of something, clearing his throat after, "if this is about my sister- she's, she's just annoying, all that baby stuff is just her being annoying. you know- sometimes i even kinda feel like she might like you or something."

jaemin bit his lip, only a loud mhm being his response as his now soft length slid out of you, "yeah so, don't let it get to you jaem, get to bed alright?"

jaemin nodded, saying a quick goodnight as mark left his sight. he looked down towards you, a scared look on your face, "so you're into younger guys, huh bunny?"

your giggles filled the small space as you rolled your eyes, hand gently slapping his chest. he leaned down to plant a soft kiss on your lips, a wide grin on his face, "don't worry, i like bratty older women too."

[okasuka]

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

Summary: You’ve practically been living at Wayne Manor, acting as Damian’s secondary Oracle and part-time medic when Alfred isn’t available. After a mission, you’re patching up a flustered Damian when he suddenly tells you he needs you to fake date him at school—because some girl won’t leave him alone.

The Batcave was quiet, save for the occasional dripping of water and the steady rhythm of your movements as you patched up Damian’s arm. He was perched on the med bay cot, scowling at the gauze in your hands like it had personally offended him.

“You’re lucky this isn’t deep,” you muttered, pressing the bandage against his bicep. “A little higher, and you’d have needed stitches.”

“Tt. I would have handled it.”

“Uh-huh,” you deadpanned, securing the bandage before reaching for the antiseptic. “Hold still.”

Damian shifted slightly, his shoulders rigid as you dabbed at the shallow cut near his collarbone. You were close—closer than usual—and you could see the way his jaw tensed. He wasn’t making eye contact, which was strange. Damian was always direct, always unwavering.

“You okay?” you asked, raising a brow.

His expression flickered, something uncertain passing over his face before he abruptly muttered, “I need you to do something for me.”

You blinked. “Yeah, sure. What is it?”

There was a pause. Damian exhaled through his nose, as if bracing himself.

“I need you to pretend to be my significant other.”

Your brain short-circuited.

“You—what?”

His ears were pink. Actually pink. Damian avoided your gaze, eyes fixated on some invisible point in the distance.

“There is a girl at school,” he said stiffly, as if it physically pained him to say it. “She refuses to leave me alone despite my clear disinterest. I have concluded that the most effective way to rid myself of her is to make her believe I am already involved in a relationship.”

You stared at him. Then blinked. Then stared some more.

“Damian.” You placed a hand on his uninjured shoulder. “You could just tell her ‘no.’ Like, verbally. With words.”

“I have.” His scowl deepened. “She does not seem to comprehend the meaning of rejection.”

“So you want me to be your fake girlfriend?”

He looked at you then, expression composed but the tips of his ears still betraying him. “Yes. Just until she ceases her pursuit.”

Your lips twitched. “And you thought asking me while I was literally sewing you back together was a good time?”

“You are a captive audience,” he said, as if that explained everything.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Alright, fine. I’ll do it. But if I have to fake date you, we’re doing it right.”

His brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“It means hand-holding, flirting, maybe even a pet name.” You grinned at the immediate horror on his face. “Oh, relax. It’s called commitment to the bit, Damian.”

“Tt. This was a mistake,” he muttered, but he didn’t take it back.

You tied off the bandage, patting his arm with a smirk. “Too late. You just got yourself a girlfriend.”

Damian sighed. This was going to be unbearable.

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Part Two)

The second you stepped into Gotham Academy the next morning, you knew this was going to be fun.

Damian walked beside you, his usual composed self—shoulders squared, uniform immaculate, that constant look of disinterest plastered across his face. The only difference today? You were his fake girlfriend. And, judging by the way some students were already glancing in your direction, the news was spreading fast.

“Alright, beloved,” you teased, nudging his arm as you walked through the front gates. “How are we playing this?”

Damian visibly flinched at the pet name. “Do not call me that.”

You grinned. “What? It’s a classic. Do you prefer babe? Sweetheart? Dami-bear?”

He shot you a look so sharp it could cut through steel. “Tt. You are enjoying this too much.”

“You knew what you were getting into,” you said lightly, looping your arm through his, just to mess with him.

His whole body went rigid.

“You have to act natural,” you reminded him, biting back a laugh. “If you act like I just stabbed you in the ribs every time I touch you, no one’s gonna believe we’re dating.”

Damian exhaled sharply through his nose, but he didn’t pull away. Progress.

You continued walking, scanning the halls for any sign of her—the girl who was apparently harassing Damian to the point where fake dating was his only option. It didn’t take long to find her.

Near his locker stood a girl with perfectly curled hair and an expensive-looking manicure, whispering with her friends while occasionally sneaking glances your way. The moment she made eye contact with Damian, her face lit up.

You had never seen Damian look more unamused.

“Here we go,” you murmured, tightening your grip on his arm. “Ready, love?”

“If you do not cease with the pet names—”

“Damian!” the girl interrupted, striding up to him with a dazzling smile. She completely ignored your existence. “Good morning! I was just thinking—”

And that’s when you really committed to the bit.

Before she could finish whatever sentence was about to ruin Damian’s day, you turned toward him, placed a hand on his chest, and, in the sweetest, most obnoxiously affectionate voice you could muster, said:

“Baby, you didn’t tell me you were this popular!”

Damian tensed under your touch, but—bless him—he didn’t pull away. Instead, he placed a hand on your waist (awkwardly, stiffly, like he had never touched a human before), and gave the girl a blank look.

“I am spoken for,” he said simply.

The girl’s expression faltered. She glanced between the two of you, disbelief evident in her eyes. “Wait, you’re dating him?”

You beamed. “Mhm! Isn’t he just the cutest?”

Damian closed his eyes, probably regretting every life decision that led to this moment.

The girl frowned. “But you’re always just… around. Like, you’re not even—”

“Around?” you interrupted with a laugh. “Oh, sweetheart, I practically live at Wayne Manor. Didn’t you know?”

The girl’s mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again.

Damian, to his credit, took the opportunity to put an end to the conversation. “If you are finished, we have matters to attend to.”

And with that, he steered you away, leaving the girl gaping after you.

The second you were out of earshot, you burst into laughter. “I am spoken for?” you mimicked, grinning up at him. “Dami, you sound like a medieval prince rejecting a marriage proposal.”

Damian scowled. “It was effective, was it not?”

“Extremely,” you admitted. “But man, you are so bad at this.”

He huffed. “Tt. This was a mistake.”

“Oh, absolutely,” you teased, nudging him again. “But hey, boyfriend, you’re stuck with me now.”

Damian sighed, long and suffering. “I am going to regret this, aren’t I?”

You just smirked.

“More than you know.”

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Part Three)

You and Damian barely made it to his locker before a group of guys—some of Damian’s more tolerable classmates—descended on you like a pack of hyenas.

“Okaaaay, hold up.” Colin Wilkes, one of the few people Damian actually acknowledged at school, squinted between the two of you. “Did I hear that right? You two are dating?”

You leaned against the lockers, smiling sweetly. “Yup.”

“Like… real dating?” added Maps Mizoguchi’s older brother, Kyle, who was watching the interaction like it was a live episode of Gotham’s trashiest reality show.

Damian crossed his arms. “Tt. Would I lie?”

Colin raised a brow. “You tell me, dude.”

“Wait, wait, wait—since when?” another guy, Elliot, chimed in. “You two have been best friends forever, and you expect us to believe you’re suddenly a thing?”

You shrugged. “It just happened. Right, babe?”

Damian twitched at the pet name but nodded. “Yes. It was… inevitable.”

Kyle snorted. “What, like fate?”

“Precisely.”

Colin squinted. “So you’re telling me the Damian Wayne—the same guy who once told a girl in math class that ‘romantic advances are an evolutionary weakness’—is dating?”

Damian looked unimpressed. “That statement remains true.”

“Okay, but why?” Elliot pressed. “Like, no offense, dude, but you don’t exactly scream ‘boyfriend material.’ How did this happen?”

You grinned. “What can I say? I like a challenge.”

Colin blinked. “Are you into emotionally constipated guys?”

“I am standing right here,” Damian deadpanned.

Kyle ignored him. “Okay, so since you two are so in love, I gotta ask…” He smirked. “How’d you confess?”

You opened your mouth—

“It was mutual,” Damian cut in before you could spin something ridiculous. “We reached the conclusion that our relationship had evolved beyond friendship and decided to act accordingly.”

The group stared.

“You decided to date?” Elliot repeated.

“Yes.”

“Like it was a business transaction?”

Damian frowned. “Would you rather I describe it as a primal urge?”

Colin choked on his water.

Kyle cackled. “Bro, you suck at this.”

Damian looked seconds away from murder. “Tt. This is absurd.”

Elliot ignored him. “Y/N, what was your perspective?”

“Oh, it was totally romantic,” you said dramatically, sighing. “One night, while I was patching him up, he just looked at me with those big green eyes and said, ‘Beloved, my heart belongs to you.’”

Damian visibly flinched. “I did not say that.”

“Shhh, let me paint the scene.” You leaned into his space, smirking as he stiffened. “He cupped my face, stared deep into my soul, and whispered—”

“Enough,” Damian snapped, grabbing your wrist and pulling you away from the group before you could say something even worse.

Behind you, the guys burst into laughter.

“Love you too, sweetheart!” you called over your shoulder, just to mess with him.

Damian muttered something in Arabic under his breath, face burning.

You grinned. This was gonna be fun.

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Part Four)

Damian did not appreciate how much fun you were having with this.

It had been a grand total of four hours since the ruse started, and you had already called him babe, sweetheart, love, and—Gotham forgive him—Dami-bear. His reputation was in shambles.

And worst of all? It wasn’t working.

The girl—Annabelle, or She Who Must Be Vanquished, as Damian had mentally renamed her—was still trying to get his attention. She was persistent, he’d give her that. But you? You were determined.

Which is how he found himself in his current predicament: pressed against the lockers with you standing far too close, eyes sparkling with mischief as Annabelle watched from a few feet away.

“She’s still looking,” you whispered, resting a hand on his chest.

Damian scowled. “This is ridiculous. Why will she not simply accept reality?”

“Because she thinks you’re just saying we’re together to get rid of her.” You tapped a finger against your chin, pretending to think. “I think we need to be a little more… convincing.”

Damian narrowed his eyes. “No.”

You grinned. “Yes.”

And before he could stop you, you grabbed the front of his blazer and pulled him into a kiss.

Damian short-circuited.

It was quick, just a soft press of lips, but he was not prepared. His brain flatlined, his entire body tensed, and for a solid three seconds, he forgot how to function. His hands hovered awkwardly by his sides, and oh, Gotham, why was his heart racing?

You pulled back with a smirk, watching his dazed expression like it was the best thing you’d ever seen. “You okay there, boyfriend?”

Damian’s face was on fire.

“Tt. You are insufferable,” he muttered, averting his gaze in a pathetic attempt to regain his dignity.

But it didn’t matter. Because when he snuck a glance toward Annabelle—who was now standing slack-jawed in utter defeat—he knew you had won.

She scoffed, flipping her hair before stalking off, grumbling something about “psycho couples” under her breath.

You grinned. “Mission accomplished.”

Damian exhaled slowly, willing his heartbeat to calm down already. “I despise you.”

“You kissed me back,” you pointed out.

“I did not!”

“You totally did.”

Damian scowled. “Tt. Let us leave before I am forced to endure more of your foolishness.”

You just smiled, intertwining your fingers with his as you walked down the hall.

And Damian, despite himself, didn’t let go.

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Part Five)

A few days had passed since The Kiss, and things were… weird.

At school, Damian was as composed as ever—standing by your side, playing the role of the devoted boyfriend when necessary. But the second you left campus, something shifted.

He became distant, avoiding you at the Manor, cutting conversations short, barely even looking at you when you spoke. It was like he had slammed a wall between you overnight, and the worst part? You had no idea why.

It wasn’t until after patrol one night that you finally snapped.

You were in the Batcave, patching up a shallow cut on Damian’s hand while he sat rigidly on the med bay cot, eyes locked on the floor. The silence between you was thick, heavy with words unsaid, and you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Alright,” you said, pressing the gauze against his knuckles a little too forcefully. “What’s your deal?”

Damian stiffened. “Tt. I do not know what you mean.”

You scoffed. “Really? You’ve been acting weird since Monday, Damian. Distant. Cold. And I know it’s not just ‘brooding’ because I know you.” You softened slightly, glancing up at him. “Did I do something wrong?”

His jaw clenched. “No.”

“Then talk to me,” you urged, placing a hand over his. “Whatever it is, you can—”

“Stop.”

His voice was sharp, cutting through the cave like a blade. You flinched.

Damian exhaled harshly, pulling his hand from your grasp like your touch burned him. “I do not need your concern, nor your pity,” he bit out. “This arrangement was a means to an end. Nothing more.”

You stared at him.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The words settled between you, cold and cruel, and for the first time in a long time, you felt something crack inside you.

“Right,” you said quietly, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You stepped back, your hands curling into fists as you fought to keep your expression blank. “Got it.”

Then, before he could say another word, you turned on your heel and walked out of the Batcave, heading straight for your room.

Damian sat there, unmoving, the weight of his own words crashing down on him like a collapsing building.

And for the first time since this whole thing started, he wished he could take something back.

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Part Six)

The next morning, Damian was heading toward the car, adjusting his school bag, when Alfred stopped him with a simple, “Miss Y/N will not be attending with you today, Master Damian.”

Damian paused mid-step, his brows furrowing. “What?”

Alfred, ever composed, merely handed him his lunch. “She is unwell.”

Something in Damian’s chest tightened.

“Unwell?” he echoed, gripping the strap of his bag.

Alfred gave him a pointed look. “Unwell,” he repeated. “As in, she has taken the day off to rest. Now, if you do not wish to be late, I suggest you get in the car.”

Damian hesitated, his fingers twitching, but nodded stiffly and left for school.

But he couldn’t focus.

All day, his mind drifted back to you—wondering if you were actually sick or if you had just wanted to avoid him. And if it was the latter…

He deserved it.

The weight of his own words from last night sat heavy on his chest. He had hurt you, pushed you away, all because he was too much of a coward to deal with his own feelings.

He had been distant because—Gotham help him—he wished it was real.

He wanted you to call him ridiculous pet names. He wanted to hold your hand like it was second nature. And that kiss? He hadn’t meant to kiss you back—but he had. Because deep down, he wanted nothing more than for you to be his.

And instead of confronting that, he had lashed out.

The second the final bell rang, he was out the door, barely waiting for the car to stop before heading straight to your room.

He knocked once.

No answer.

He knocked again.

Still nothing.

Sighing, he took a breath and opened the door.

You were curled up on your bed, staring at the ceiling, bundled under a blanket. You didn’t even bother looking at him. “Go away, Damian.”

He swallowed. “No.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “Of course.”

Damian stepped further into the room, his usual confidence replaced by something… uncertain.

“I…” He hesitated, fists clenching at his sides. “I was an ass.”

You snorted. “No kidding.”

He exhaled sharply. “Tt. I am trying to apologize, Y/N.”

Silence.

You finally turned to look at him, eyes tired. “Why, though?”

He tensed. “Because I regret it.”

You sat up slightly, arms wrapping around yourself. “You regret it?”

He shut his eyes for a moment, then met your gaze.

“No. Not it. I regret… lying.” He clenched his jaw, his voice quieter now. “I was distant because… I wish it were real.”

You blinked, breath hitching. “What?”

“I want it to be real,” he admitted, his hands gripping the fabric of his blazer. “I want you.”

A beat of silence.

Then, before he could say anything else, you were in front of him, eyes wet with unshed tears as you grabbed his face and kissed him.

This time, he kissed back immediately. No hesitation.

His hands came up to cup your cheeks, warm and sure, and when you finally pulled away, breathless, you were smiling through your tears.

“Took you long enough,” you whispered.

He huffed out a small laugh, pressing his forehead to yours. “Shut up.”

You grinned. “Make me.”

So he kissed you again.

Fake Dating – Damian Wayne x Reader

(Final Part)

The next morning, when Damian arrived at school with you by his side, something was different.

For one, he looked happy.

Not his usual smug, I’m-better-than-you smirk, but a genuine, real smile—the kind that softened his sharp edges, made his eyes brighter. And more importantly? He was being blatantly affectionate.

Which, for Damian Wayne, was unheard of.

You had barely stepped into the building before he casually pulled you against his side, an arm draped around your waist like it belonged there. And if that wasn’t enough to make people gawk, the way he looked at you—soft, like you had personally placed the stars in the sky—was definitely causing a scene.

“Okay, what the hell,” Colin muttered as you both approached the lockers, watching as Damian adjusted your bag strap for you like it was the most natural thing in the world. “Since when are you all… clingy?”

Damian merely raised a brow, unimpressed. “Since when is it your concern, Wilkes?”

Colin pointed aggressively. “See?! That! You’re, like, content. That is not normal.”

Kyle Mizoguchi strolled up beside him, nodding. “Yeah, you smiled earlier. A real one. I almost called the paramedics.”

Elliot scoffed. “I knew the fake-dating thing was sus. You guys totally liked each other this whole time.”

You grinned, leaning against Damian’s shoulder. “Guilty.”

Colin stared between you. “Wait. So this is, like, real now?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Clearly.”

“Okay, but how?” Kyle pressed, crossing his arms. “Because last time I checked, Damian sucked at emotions.”

“He still does,” you teased, nudging him playfully. “But he’s learning.”

Damian huffed, but his arm around you tightened slightly. “Tt. I despise all of you.”

“Sure you do, lover boy.”

Before Damian could threaten bodily harm, Annabelle—the same girl who had been pestering him for weeks—walked past, glancing at you both.

She paused for a moment, observing the way Damian was practically wrapped around you, before rolling her eyes and walking away without a word.

You smirked. “Mission successfully accomplished.”

Damian hummed, watching her disappear down the hall before turning to you, eyes warm. “Indeed.”

Then, in front of everyone, he kissed your forehead.

Audible gasps.

Elliot looked like he was about to faint.

Colin smacked Kyle’s arm. “Dude.”

Kyle shook his head, defeated. “I have to text Maps.”

Damian ignored them, pressing his lips briefly to your temple before pulling you closer, satisfied.

You just laughed, heart full.

And as the school buzzed with whispers about Damian Wayne and his girlfriend, you simply held onto him, knowing that—for once—none of it was an act.

[hyunsuloves]

can we get more myung gi/ player 333 oneshots/hcs plsss (if u can)💕💕

boyfriend myung-gi in the games.

warnings … there may be some typos, i apologize

lovely notes … ask & you shall receive ml 🙂‍↕️

꩜ [ 600 words ]

boyfriend myung-gi who cherishes the small moments with you. the moments after games, moments right before lights out, and even the minuscule moments like when he makes direct eye contact with you from across the room.

boyfriend myung-gi who lets you get in line before him because you’re his top priority, always.

boyfriend myung-gi who always gives you a share of his food. he doesn’t care about you saying you “don’t want it”, he insists that you stay more fed than him. he’ll put your well-being before his every time.

boyfriend myung-gi who is wary of all the other contestants, even more with you in the games with him. he doesn’t trust them, nor does he want you to blindly trust them.

boyfriend myung-gi who makes a silent vow to himself to protect you at the start of every game. he puts your welfare before his every time, so he will defend you with his entire life.

boyfriend myung-gi who always has a vice grip on your hand. whether you’re in a game, waiting to vote, or doing something so mundane such as sitting next to one another. he likes to feel you at all times, it anchors him in a way

boyfriend myung-gi who squeezes your hand just a bit tighter when thanos or nam-gyu walks by. they’re the last people he wants to get near either of you, so of course he feels a need to protect you.

boyfriend myung-gi who always moves your head to rest on his shoulder when sitting next to one another. or he places his head to rest on your lap. he just wants to be near you, is all.

boyfriend myung-gi who always wakes up before you. you sleep in his bed, and he can’t help himself but wake up a few hours before you. he enjoys the mere moments when he can have you in his arms without any concerns.

boyfriend myung-gi who’s the first to acknowledge you when you walk into a room. his eyes immediately shift to you when he’s in the same vicinity as you. it was like a magnetic force pulled his eyes to you every time.

boyfriend myung-gi who covers your eyes when other participants die. if possible, he’s going to shield you from the horror that is the reality of the death game you’re in. the last thing he wants you to see is lifeless bodies dropping left and right.

boyfriend myung-gi who randomly says “i love you”. he wants to remind you of his unwavering love all the time, of course.

boyfriend myung-gi who’s only level-minded around you. you’re the only one who can ground him because god knows how unbalanced he’d get without you.

boyfriend myung-gi who’s constantly near you during every game. red light, green light? you’re behind him. six-legged pentathlon? you’re obviously on the same team as him. mingle? you’re in every single group with him. other participants may see it as clinginess, but both of you see it as myung-gi protecting you with his everything.

boyfriend myung-gi who would quite literally fall to his knees if you got injured. he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if you got wounded under his observation.

boyfriend myung-gi who has the most extravagant plans for when the both of you get out of the games. he has dozens of date plans just for when you make it out.

boyfriend myung-gi who sometimes feels like he doesn’t deserve you. you’re the only constant in the cruelty that you both found yourselves in. and he feels so undeserving of you and your tenderness so often.

[harksness]

Or also milf Agatha who’s just recently divorced ( from a man ) and kind of always had to be the “ perfect submissive wife “ so when she meets you at a bar when Wanda had dragged her to go out, all changes.

Agatha slowly learning she likes to be more in control and being such a good domme to you like AHHHHHHHHH I NEED HER TO BE MY MOMMY AGATHA SAUR BAD

PLLLSSS YOURE MAKING ME GO ABSOLUTELY UNHINGED SDJNIAGFLDJFG MOMMY AGATHA IS EXACTLY WHAT I NEED IN MY LIFE

I WENT WAAY TOO OVERBOARD W THIS ONE OOPS MY HAND SLIPPED AND I WROTE A WHOLE FIC WHEN I SAW THIS AT 2AM ?? i didnt know i had this in me atm but the horny brainrot for mommy agatha was just too real it's like that + the sleep deprivation possessed me

mommy agatha would fix all my problems in life rn i need her so bad auughghghghghghg

"I'm sure it's been a long time since you've had some fun. We need to find you some action."

Wanda winks at Agatha and the older woman rolls her eyes with a soft scoff as she raises her drink to her lips.

"Oh please, nothing with Ralph was ever fun. It was just... Sex."

Agatha sighs, a crushing feeling weighing down on her when she realizes just how miserable her life with that man was. How.. Unfulfilling.

You're told as a woman to marry a good man, be a good, submissive wife, make sure to make him happy. A few months ago Agatha came to the crashing realization that maybe what she wanted wasn't what she had been told to want her whole life.

Then she realized just how bad the sex actually was.

And she promptly filed for a divorce not long after. There wasn't much love lost on her end, the years had worn on her and she was ready for this a while ago. The only thing lost on her end was time. And she doesn't want to waste any more of it.

After confiding all of these heavy feelings to her dear friend Wanda, this was the idea she came up with to help. A popular bar in Westview.

"Okay, so.. It's your first night of freedom, of being able to decide exactly what you want for yourself and from sex. What's the first thing that pops into your head?"

Wanda smiles at her, resting her elbow on the table in front of her and plopping her head into the palm of her hand. Agatha pauses for a moment in thought.

What does she want?

Her bright blue eyes scan over the crowd of people in the dimly lit bar, hoping for the realization to smack her in the face.

"Honestly? A young, pretty girl that can help me learn a thing or two about myself.."

Agatha says plainly, and Wanda hums out in thought, eyes scanning over the crowd.

"Oh! What about her?"

Wanda points across the room, and Agatha's eyes catch on you. Her eyes widen as she takes you in. You're standing with your friends, pretty smile on your face, a tight dress hugging the curves of your body. She's eagerly drinking you in, eyes dragging over every little detail on your figure.

"You think she's cute."

Wanda giggles, and Agatha can tell that her friend is a bit tipsy.

"Oh she's more than cute."

Agatha admits, and Wanda's pushing herself out of her seat. The older woman looks up at her curiously.

"What are you doing?"

Wanda winks.

"Helping you get some fun."

"No, Wanda, not like this-"

All hope is lost. Wanda is already walking across the room towards you, navigating through the thin sea of people to reach you over at the bar. Agatha fights the urge to slump down in her seat and hide from embarrassment. If Wanda's going to be going about it like this, though, she might as well commit to the bit.

So, she pets her hair into place and straightens her posture as Wanda approaches you. She watches in horror as the two of you seem to quickly strike up a friendly conversation.

When Wanda gestures back towards where she's sitting and sipping on her drink and your eyes flicker over and land on her, Agatha's brain short circuits. You smile brightly and wave shyly over at her, and she thinks it's the cutest thing she's ever seen. Agatha leans forward and waves back.

Your friends are playfully pushing you towards the table, your features flushed red as you begin making your way towards her. When you reach the table, Agatha quirks a curious brow at you.

"Agatha, I'm guessing?"

You ask with a sheepish smile. The older woman nods her head.

"That's me, I assume my drunk friend said some very embarrassing things about me that somehow charmed you into coming over here?"

You laugh softly at her words, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Agatha feels her throat go dry, and she's raising her glass to her lips.

"Oh, yes, definitely. But I was more charmed when I looked over here at you."

Agatha grins up at you, butterflies making a fuss in her stomach.

"Do you want to sit with me?"

Eagerly you nod your head, and Agatha scoots over, wanting you to sit close to her. She gestures at the space she just made, hoping you'll slide in right next to her. And you do.

You tell her your name, what college you go to and what you're studying. You make fun, light small talk for a bit, enjoying getting to know each other. You share all of the embarassing things Wanda shared about her with a cute giggle, and Agatha can't even be mad because it got you to come over and sit with her.

Agatha insists on buying you a drink, and you're being so polite and insisting it's okay, you don't want her spending money on expensive cocktails for some girl she's only known for a few minutes. You keep trying to pull out your wallet when she quirks a brow at your politeness.

"Sweetheart, you're a college student. I'm assuming you don't have a ton of money lying around. Now, I do, so be a good girl and let me treat the sweet, cute little thing I'm growing rather fond of to something nice, hm?"

You freeze at her words, eyes wide, and Agatha's worried she screwed up with her forwardness. But a bright smile crosses your features, cheeks flushing as you fold your hands in your lap and nod your head.

"Y-yeah, I mean, if you insist.. Thank you very much."

You stumble through your words, and she notices how you cross your legs. Agatha feels something swirling in her chest, a bit of an ache growing between her legs at your shy compliance. A smile grows on her lips as she orders your favorite cocktail for you.

Agatha decides to be a little more bold.

"Oh, anything for you, honey.."

She coos, breath hot against your neck as she leans in and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear. A smirk grows on her lips at the way you squirm, her eyes glancing down towards your chest as you heave in a deep breath.

"Is there anything else you'd like me to do for you, hm?"

Agatha asks sweetly, one of her hands landing on your exposed thigh, squeezing the soft skin gently, giving you a chance to tell her to back off if you wanted to. She watches you hopefully.

You laugh shyly, nervously meeting her gaze. You part your lips to speak when the waiter sets your drink down in front of you, severing the tension like a knife. Agatha goes to pull her hand away, disappointment weighing heavy in her gut when your hand darts out to grab hers.

"W-wait.."

You mumble and Agatha's grinning excitedly.

"I mean.. You're just- like, really hot.. It's flustering me a bit.."

Your face is flushed deep red, your gaze avoiding hers.

"So you're okay with this?"

She asks, and you nod your head. She tsk's at you, raising a hand and hooking her finger under your chin as she guides you to look at her.

"Use your words, baby."

Your pupils blow wide at her words, gaze heavy with lust as your eyes flicker down to her lips.

"Yes. Yeah, I'm really okay with this.."

You mutter out softly and Agatha smiles.

"Good girl."

She melts at the way you gasp when her lips connect with yours. It's soft and sweet, and immediately you're returning her kiss, lips moving eagerly against one another. Agatha already feels addicted to your soft, sweet mouth.

You pull back first, and she's disappointed.

"Do you want to leave?"

The disappointment is quickly replaced with excitement.

"I'd love to. Would you be alright going to my place?"

You nod your head and quickly the two of you are out of there, abandoning your untouched drink on the table. Agatha is holding your hand, guiding you through and out the back of the building as you go to the back parking lot.

It's dark out, the cool night air chilling you skin as you wind between the parked cars, the lights of Agatha's car flickering as she unlocks it.

You tug softly on her hand and she turns to look at you.

"Please, kiss me again.."

You beg so sweetly for her, she's giving you what you want before she even realizes it. Agatha grabs you by the hips, fingers biting softly into your plush skin as she presses you against the side of the car. You gasp at the force, moaning softly as she presses her lips firmly into yours.

She's eager to tear more desperate words out of your mouth. It's the only thing on her mind as she nips at your bottom lip, you snaking your arms up and around her neck to pull her closer into you.

You're letting out little muffled noises into her mouth and she's in heaven, dropping her head to pepper lingering wet kisses against the column of your throat. You let out a sharp sigh.

"Fuck, you're so hot.."

Agatha groans against your skin and you let out a pathetic whimper. She raises her knee between your legs, pressing up and against your center. A moan tears out of your throat as your hands scramble to dig into her back, and Agatha feels dizzy at the look on your face. Your pretty plush lips parted so sweetly, bright eyes lidded over with desire just for her.

Oh, Agatha very quickly figured out what she wants.

She wants you, whimpering and begging and falling apart for her.

You can't control yourself as you start to softly grind against her thigh, rocking your hips back and forth as your teeth dig into your bottom lip. Agatha laughs softly as she leans down to pepper more kisses across your neck.

"Oh? Did I really work you up in the bar?"

She asks, a taunting edge to her voice. You nod your head.

"Use your words, pretty girl.."

Agatha coos, chest swelling at how eager you are to obey her.

"Fuck, yes.. I don't want to wait.."

You whimper out pathetically as you squirm against her thigh, moonlight highlighting your desperate features so beautifully for Agatha. She smirks down at you, raising a hand to cup your cheek.

Her thumb traces over your bottom lip, softly tugging it down and pressing on it before she releases it. Agatha wants to bite your bottom lip, dig her teeth in and have you gasping in pain and pleasure into her mouth so she can swallow every sweet noise you make and have it be part of her forever.

When she raises the digit once again you eagerly part your lips for her. Her smile widens as she traces the outline of your lips with her thumb before pushing it past your lips and into your mouth.

Agatha lets out a hard, controlled breath at the feeling of your hot, wet mouth wrapped around her thumb. Sucking her, pulling her in as your cheeks cave in but you hold her gaze. She leans further into you, grinding her thigh up into your wet cunt. You whimper around her thumb.

Agatha drags the digit out of your mouth, smearing your spit across your bottom lip.

"What do you want?"

She asks lowly, and you moan.

"Fuck, please, please just fuck me in your car. I don't wanna wait."

The teasing has reached its breaking point, you throw your head back and it softly thumps against the car. Agatha grins down at you, cooing softly as she affectionately runs her fingers over your cheek.

"Of course, sweet pea.."

Dropping her leg from between your thighs, the two of you take a step back so she can open the back door. Agatha gestures you in first, and you crawl over the smooth leather seats to the other side in order to make room for her.

She's following close behind, the car swaying a bit with how forcefully she slams the door shut. With a soft click, Agatha ensures the doors are locked and the two of you are secure inside.

You're laying back on the seats, propped up on your elbows as Agatha climbs over you, hungrily drinking you in.

"Fuck, what do you want me to do for you?"

Agatha breathes the words against your neck, her hands desperately roaming over your body, feeling electric with her need to touch you.

"I want you to do whatever you want to me.. Please.."

You beg and her brain short circuits. She can do whatever she wants to you? Her mind starts flying through the endless possibilities, eyes flickering over your body in hungry passes as she tries to make up her mind.

"First, lets take this off.."

Agatha tugs on your dress and you're eager to comply, she helps you pull down the zipper and your lift your hips up off the seat as the two of you get it over your head, leaving you in your underwear before her, laying on the cold leather seats.

She kneels between your spread legs, ghosting her hands over your soft thighs as she admires you spread out before her, your perfect, beautiful body lay ready for her to use however she pleases.

Agatha licks her lips before she leans down, leaving kisses all up your neck before moving down to your collarbone, littering it with more kisses that have you rubbing your thighs together before she moves downwards.

She eyes your breasts hungrily. Pushing the bra straps from your shoulders, she pulls the cups down and frees your chest, an excited sigh dropping past her lips as she dives in for them.

You immediately begin to whimper and squirm under her treatment, one hand eagerly pawing at your right breast while she runs her tongue all over your left, desperate to taste every inch of your skin.

Eventually she moves to your nipple, taking it into her mouth and eagerly sucking. You arch your back, a sharp gasp escaping your lips at the action. With a soft pop she releases the bud, running the tip of her tongue along it in apologetic passes.

She spends so long worshipping your breasts that your voice grows hoarse, eventually you're pawing and clawing at her desperately.

"Hm?"

Agatha asks, licking her lips as she raises her head from your chest, brown curls wild with how they're falling in disarray from her bun. You're shaking, whimpering pathetically.

"Please, please.. Touch me, Agatha..."

You hadn't noticed the tears that had welled in your eyes and she coos softly down at you, running her fingers along your cheek.

"I'm so sorry sweet girl.. I promise I'll take good care of you.."

She whispers the words apologetically against your cheek, leaving soft kisses on your skin. You nod your head before she continues downward, licking a stripe down your sternum before planting kisses on the soft skin of your tummy, dragging her lips over each of your hips as she hungrily kneads at your thighs.

The woman is crawling back on the seats, lowering herself so that she's between your thighs, licking her lips hungrily as she pulls your underwear to the side. You can't help but feel a bit flushed and embarrassed under her intense gaze, all while loving every second her adoring blue eyes are focused on you.

Immediately when her mouth latches onto your center, your eyes roll into the back of your head, your hands scrambling for purchase on the door behind you as you let out a loud, desperate moan.

"Shit.. Feels so good.."

You whimper, her mouth hot between your legs, messily running her tongue between your wet folds as she groans into you. It already feels so intense, and you know you won't last long as she begins to sloppily assault your clit.

The woman quickly figured out the question she had at the beginning of the night. This is exactly what she wants. A pretty little thing like you, so eager and pliant and willing to take whatever she gives.

It makes her shift, clenching her thighs at just how fucking turned on she is seeing you fall apart beneath her, for her. Every little moan, every word, every tremble and gasp and every bit of sweetness that spills between your thighs is all just for her in this moment, and she's hooked. She can't get enough

Agatha moves her hands to paw at the plush of your thighs, an ache growing between her legs she's never experienced before as she watches you whimper and moan out desperately for her.

Your features scrunch up, mouth hung open in pleasure as she alternates between sloppily sucking and running the flat of her tongue along the little bud.

She grins against you as she feels your thighs begin to tremble against the sides of her head, desperate, breathy noises spilling past your pretty lips as you scramble for purchase, your back arching with every jolt of pleasure that shoots through you.

She groans into you, thinking that she would be happy to suffocate between your soft thighs. As she digs her fingers into your hips and pulls you against her eager mouth, a gasp escaping your lips as the sound of your soft curses reach her ears.

The older woman leans back, and you nearly die at the sight of her pushing her wild brown hair out of her face with the back of her hand as she licks you off of her lips, humming at the taste.

She leans forward, pressing her cheek against your knee as she looks down at you with adoring blue eyes.

"Fuck, you're so pretty, baby.."

Agatha coos down at you, soft smile on her lips as she raises her fingers up to the wet mess between your thighs. You let out a desperate, wanton noise, scrambling to grab at her forearm as she drags her fingers through your folds, taking her sweet time to feel you and toy with you. Her eyes flicker over your glistening center to your pretty face, distorted with pleasure as you thrash against the seats.

"Are you doing okay, sweet girl?"

She asks mockingly, loving the feeling of your nails biting into her forearm. You twist beneath her, writhing in pleasure as you press the side of your face against the leather seat, hair spread in disarray like a halo around your head.

"Yes! Yes, please don't stop.. So good, Mommy.."

You sound so pathetic as the words escape your lips in a broken wheeze, and something snaps in Agatha when you call her that. She thought she couldn't get any more worked up and desperately horny then she already is but fuck, you keep surprising her.

"Call me that again.."

She demands, high on her power over you as she drags her soaked fingers back, carefully easing them into you. You groan out at the stretch, at the intrusion of her long, slender fingers easing you open and sliding deep inside of you.

"Mommy.. Please fuck me.. You're so good to me, Mommy, I need more.."

You didn't even hesitate to obey her, turning to look up at her with your wide, pretty eyes drunk on pleasure.

Your desperate, broken voice has her responding automatically to your pleas for her, carefully curling her long, slender finger as she fucks her hand into your sopping pussy. You're so wet and messy, there's a soft squelching noise with every thrust.

Agatha loves it. You whimper, embarrassed.

"M' sorry.. A-ah.."

You try to apologize, finding yourself unable as you throw your head back in pleasure, so sensitive under her calculated movements. She's smirking down at you, leaning forward and over you with her fingers still buried in your wet cunt.

"Oh, you have nothing to be sorry for, angel.. You're absolutely perfect.."

She sighs against your neck, running her tongue along the column of your throat, enjoying the taste of your salty sweat on her tongue as she carefully slips a second finger into you. You let out a loud noise, hand flying to pull at the shirt on her back as she stretches you out, curling her fingers up to hit that sweet spot inside of you with every careful thrust.

"You got such a perfect pussy.. Mommy can't get enough.."

Agatha breathes the words hotly against your neck, her palm soaked with your arousal as she grinds it up against your clit, harshly rubbing against the little nub.

"O-oh! Shit! Fuck!"

You curse, the sensitivity getting to you. You curl your legs up and over her hips, pulling her down into you, as close as you can possibly get her and Agatha moans, her hand trapped inside of you between your two bodies as she grinds her palm against your sensitive clit.

She laughs breathily down at you before leaning down to pepper kisses up your jaw and across your pretty face.

"C'mon baby.. Be a good girl and cum for Mommy.."

The way she speaks those words so hotly against your ear, her warm breath fanning over your skin and words dripping with want and arousal, it's what tips you over the edge.

You let out a loud, broken moan as you wrap your arms around her back, pulling her tightly against you.

You throw your head back as the words burst past your lips in a desperate shout, your mind barely coherent as everything around you goes static and you seize up around the older woman.

"Oh! Mommy, cumming!"

Agatha groans at the sight of you, how you squeeze and drip around her fingers that are buried all the way to the last knuckle inside of your pussy, the heaving of your chest and how your pretty features contort in pleasure, mind numb and lost under the onslaught of pleasure that she gave you.. That she's responsible for.

Pride swells in her chest as she guides you through it, whispering soft little praises into your skin as you tremble and slowly come down from your high. With a deep gasp for air your legs fall numbly from around her waist, and Agatha leans back slightly to look at you as she carefully pulls her hand from you.

You laugh breathily, heaving for air as a wide smile crosses your features. Agatha smiles down at you as you raise your hand, pushing your messy hair from your features.

"Holy shit.. You're- wow."

You breathe out, dropping your hand to look up at her. She purses her lips proudly.

"Mmm.. I could say the same thing about you."

The older woman winks down at you, hair messy and sticking out at odd angles. Her stunning blue eyes are pinned right on you, and you don't think you could ever get enough of her gaze lingering on you.

"I barely did anything!"

You laugh and Agatha shakes her head.

"You were perfect."

Your heart swells at her words, and Agatha raises her hand. You flush at how soaked her fingers are, your arousal dripping down her palm and to her wrist. She raises it to her mouth, holding your gaze as she licks you off of her hand, dragging her tongue from her wrist, up her palm and to the tip of her fingers. Your chest heaves at the sight.

"You taste absolutely amazing."

She smirks down at you, and you smile sheepishly, pushing yourself up onto your forearms.

"Well.. Is there anything I can do to say thank you, Mommy?"

You bat your eyelashes at her sweetly, and her gaze flickers to your soft mouth, her mind running so far ahead of her with everything she wants to do with you that she can't keep up.

[simpjaes]

enha hyung line wet dreams :ccc

hyung line + wet dreams

warning: free use, somnophilia

mdni.

☆ jay:

the type to be embarrassed because during waking hours, he's a bit against letting people see him be weak. not saying he wouldn't care for you publicly or during waking hours, i think it's just more so the fact that he wouldn't let people know he needs attention or care too. so, ofc, waking up on the brink of an orgasm to seeing you already looking at him curiously, he'd feel embarrassed. ears red, blood rushing straight to his cock, which would only jump at sensitivity when he tries to shift and turn with a small "sorry, had a nightmare."

he knows better than anyone how bad of a liar he is. so, when you respond with a knowing laugh and a "oh? a nightmare huh? which horror had you moaning like that then?"

it would likely end with you being the one to make the move for him. with his back turned to you trying to wish away the embarrassment only to feel your hand reach around to help him out. he'd immediately sigh out with a sleepy moan and probably grab at your wrist to force a perfect pace :( turning slightly to kiss against you with small and embarrassed little breathy thank yous.

★ jake:

1000% humping against you in his sleep. probably dead asleep when you wake up to the damp spot against your leg that seeps through his sweat pants. you'd have to shake him awake, or jerk him off a little so he wakes up properly to take care of the problem.

absolutely happens a lot too. like even if you guys had sex the night before, he's ready to go mid fucking sleep and despite how exhausted you are, all it takes is a little bit of heavy petting and he'll usually do the rest. he's definitely not embarrassed either, though he'll probably wake up mid-orgasm time and time again and immediately cling to you just to prolong the feeling.

also mutters out apologies like jay would, but not because he's embarrassed. mostly because he knows you're sleepy and he knows he's gonna have to keep you awake ;-; you guys probably have some sort of free use agreement after a while though, where if he wakes up at 3:30 in the morning needing to get his dick wet, all he needs to do is roll over, spoon you a little, and play with you until he can slip it right in . gotta get the quickie out of the way so you both can return to peaceful sleep sdkjhfkjsdfds AAAAAAAAAAAAA

☆ sunghoon:

similar to jay but probably not sorry about it. he'll wake from his wet dream not giving a shit about anything but getting off. whether that includes him jerking off to your pretty, sleeping form, or him waking you up by shoving his cock between your thighs and fucking forward with a tight grip pulling you back against him. bro is desperate and insane when he's sleepy, probably even a bit annoyed at his own libido for waking him up if he needs to get up early.

at first, you're probably a little shocked waking up to such a harsh grip adjusting your near-limp body, maybe you even let out a little yelp followed by his deep groaning at the pleasure he uses you for. you'd get used to it though, and absolutely not be opposed to him using you if he needs it. after all, he can be quite vanilla at times, so this would be a welcome change even if it only happens once every few months.

also the type to be in a really good mood the next morning. breakfast in bed type shit, bringing you roses when he gets back home type shit.

★ heeseung:

gets pissy because he always wakes up at the best part, but always feels better knowing you're like...right there next to him. sometimes he just fists his cock himself if he's particularly tired, spilling out on you and letting you sleep through the mess lol, other times he's probably waking you up because he's hovering over you and flipping you over so he can start rubbing the head of his cock between your legs.

wouldn't apologize and instead would go straight to dirty talking and probably praise for you just so he can get what he wants. he does always make sure you get off too though, unlike some of the others here *coughjakecough*. he'd def soothe you through the dry penetration though. not saying he'd do it politely. SDKJHFKSDJ probably more just say shit like "yeah, you'll let me, right?" followed by a "knew you would, baby, knew it." with a lil kiss right under your jaw lmfao. [the evil heeseung agenda continues]

[ovrgrwnivy]

bejewelled ; spencer reid

what’s a girl gonna do? a diamonds gotta shine!

a/n: very mildly self indulgent, i imagine this set around season one or two-ish just ‘cause the vibe of early criminal minds season will never be matched.

warnings: spencer reid x afab!bau!reader, established, secret romantic relationship, body piercings ( bellybutton ), teasing ( derek and spencer being, well, derek and spencer )

recently these late nights in the office had become more and more frequent. the team all sat in the bullpen in comfortable silence, only broken periodically when someone offered coffee from the kitchenettes unreliable coffee machine.

you rose to your feet slowly, body aching from being sat at your desk for so long. you tilt your head side to side, humming softly at the relief in your neck and shoulders before clasping your hands together and stretching them above your head.

a grave mistake.

“what is this!” elle squealed, all but launching herself across her desk then the hem of your shirt rises to expose the sparkling jewel dangling from your navel “a piercing? how edgy.”

elle’s tone is teasing as one hand shifts the hem of your shirt up just enough for her to examine the star shaped diamond with the other.

you’re too tired to swat her away, and in all honesty you welcome the distraction from the heavy workload, even if it’s drawing unwanted attention from the rest of your team.

a low wolf whistle is sent in your direction from the one derek morgan as he peers over elle’s shoulder to get a look at the jewellery, as does jj, and, naturally, penelope.

“hey, pretty boy, you know about this?” derek taunts, glancing over his shoulder at spencer, still knee deep in paperwork and ignoring the commotion surrounding your navel.

the entire team, especially derek, loved to poke fun at spencer for his little crush on you. teasing him relentlessly for not asking you on a date, for how he occasionally stumbled over his words when you sat next to him on the jet.

a bellybutton piercing, by their assumption, should’ve sent the poor kid genius into orbit.

but spencer knew already.

the two of you had been a bit of an item for a little over six months, keeping the new relationship hidden from your team for no other reason than pettiness. it was nice having something that just belonged to you two.

“yeah, i know.”

spencers mumbled response catches even you off guard, and it doesn’t even seem to register with him what came out of his mouth as he cards his hand through his hair.

“i — excuse me, what!?” penelope squeaks, heels clicking as she shuffles her way over to spencers desk and snaps his file closed “nuh uh, open your ears mister!” she scolds, tapping his forehead with the fluffy pompom on the end of her pen.

spencers laugh, your favourite sound, reaches your ears as he finally lets you catch his gaze. his eyes quickly flick up and down your body, a speedy skill he’d been perfecting since you first got together to catch a glimpse at you without anyone else noticing.

“i knew.” spencer reinforces with a nod “she caught it in her sweater last week and took it out on me”

a half truth, it was his sweater, in his apartment, but his answer seems to be enough to satisfy elle who releases her grip on your shirt.

you watch as spencer gets to his feet and, much like you, began stretching. only, to your horror, when he craned his head to the side the collar of his button up no longer shielded the dark purple bruise on his neck.

your drunken handiwork.

“now wait a damn minute..” derek began, eyes drifting from reids neck to you “now i know y’all nasty kids aren’t doing what i’m thinking.”

“no idea what you mean,” you mumble hurriedly, burying your face back in your paperwork and ignoring the giggles and prodding coming from jj and elle at either side of you.

[therealmylesmorales]

Loser!Vi Headcannons pt 2

Y’all gave so much love, I feel like I had to reward you guys ☺️

Warnings: uhhh same as last time, I guess. I’m too lazy to check what it was, masc4masc relationship

WC: 700

⭒ Vi is a chronic biter. You learned that pretty early in your relationship. And yet, you never know when it’s coming until it’s too late. She would act like she would be leaning in for a kiss…until she bit the closest part of your body; your cheeks, your arm, your ass

“OW— fuck Vi!”

”That didn’t hurt, you're being dramatic.”

⭒ Another cute but annoying thing Vi does is that she fake boxes you. Her fists will never come in contact with your face or body but she still finds it funny. She’ll even make sound effects while doing so. But the second you lightly punch her stomach to get her to stop, it’s the end of the world.

⭒ She cried like a baby when she got her nose pierced. You were with her and by how hard she clutched your hand, you would’ve thought she got shot. You made fun of her the entire time.

”Not only do you have a big ass back tattoo, you also have one on your face.”

“That’s DIFFERENT!”

⭒ Vi’s major changes every few months. She just loves doing new things and will get obsessed with it and unfortunately be bored with it in not too long after. However, she would probably get a degree in business so she could take over Vander’s bar once he decided to retire.

⭒ Sticking with the college theme for a second; you’re known around campus for being chill and somewhat friendly to others. Vi, on the other hand…people think she’s brash and her temper definitely doesn’t help. But people have noticed that when she’s around you, she’ll siphon off your energy and is a lot more pleasant to be around.

⭒ Vi likes kissing you more than actual sex. She’ll still never turn down the offer, but kissing you feels calming to her. After a day of classes or dealing with whatever, it is her favorite way to unwind.

⭒ Vi loves horror movies, and loves when you watch them with her (even if you hate them/are scared easily). Her favorite franchise is probably Friday the 13th but Ghostface is her favorite slasher. The only problem with her watching horror movies is her inability to easily fall asleep afterwards. Normally, it takes her five minutes to be knocked out.

”Cupcake, are you awake?”

”Vi, PLEASE go to sleep.”

⭒ Surprise to no one, she cuts her hair on her own. Every few weeks you’ll find her in the bathroom with scissors and a shaver in hand, trying her best to get her hair looking good. You help her with the back of her head and she appreciates you for that.

⭒ Vi is literally obsessed with you. Her entire camera roll is filled with pictures of you both or just you; pictures she took on dates or just candid ones. Her wallpaper is even one of you, a rare selfie you took and she cherished it as soon as you sent it. Vi even gave you a special ringtone and whenever you text or call her, she can’t help but kick her feet.

⭒ Like everyone, Vi has red flags. But her most noticeable one is that she’s hardheaded. She doesn’t like to listen, especially when she knows thinks she’s right. She will stand on business until she can’t…and when that happens, she’ll come back with her tail between her legs, hoping you’re not too mad at her.

“Hey…are you mad at me?”

”Did you learn your lesson?”

”I did. I’m sorry.”

A little something extra for my black!readers 🫶🏾

⭒ No matter how hard both you and Mel tried to teach her, she nor Jayce still understand Spades. Viktor got it down within thirty minutes, but those two were still clueless. So, you all decided on a more easier game, Uno!

Uno was banned that same night after you two almost broke up and she and Jayce almost got into a fist fight.

⭒ And someone said that Vi would take the fuchsia bonnet with the black headband, and that was totally the one I was talking about (cause I have the same one). She refused to give it back at that point so the only logical solution was to buy another.

[bigification]

Pretty Eyes

"You've got pretty eyes, you know that." Your boyfriend, Lenny, tells you.

"You think so?" You reply, no one's ever complimented your eyes before.

"Yeah, they're perfect windows into your soul." He smiles as he looks into your deep brown eyes.

You blush in response, trying to hide how much the compliment affected you.

"I think the rest could do with some work, though." Lenny adds.

Your smile drops instantly. Why would he say that? Is he messing with you? What does he mean by that?

"What.." you ask, hoping he starts laughing and says it was a joke. But his face remains serious.

"First let's work on that belly." Lenny says while pulling up your shirt, revealing a soft pad of fat on your stomach.

By now you're freaking out. He's gone way too far for it to be a joke, why is he being so mean? And what does he mean working on your belly? You want to push him away and hide your stomach but you feel frozen, completely incapable of moving or talking back.

Lenny plants his hand on your stomach, it feels warm. He pushes firmly into your body, knocking you back a bit.

"That's better." He says with a charming smile.

You look down in a mix of happiness and horror, seeing your belly entirely disappear. In its place is a perfectly chiselled six pack with a sharp V line leading down to your crotch. But before you can even react, Lenny has moved on.

"Hmmm." He ponders to himself. "That chest needs fixing too."

He cups your soft chest with both his hands and starts to rub. You hate to admit it, but it feels great. So good in fact, you almost forget that you're mad at him. He keeps rubbing, sculpting your pecs into the perfect shape. You notice them grow and grow, but with muscle rather than fat. They begin to push out from your body, creating a shelf over your six pack. You even feel your nipples growing as they slowly drift to the underside of your juicy pecs. By the time Lenny pulls away, you're left with two massive pecs that are threatening to burst out of your tiny shirt at any moment.

"I think I'm gonna need to broaden your shoulders to match your expansive chest." He states as if you have a say in it.

His hands grip tightly onto your shoulders and begin to pull them outward. Each pull broadens your shoulders like they're made of putty, eventually ripping right through your shirt. The torn fabric falls to the ground, unveiling your muscly physique and revealing a tattoo sprawled across one of your pecs.

Lenny continues to pull your shoulders until they're wider than your chest, giving you a masculine V shaped torso. And while he's at it, he massages your traps and causes them to triple in size, forming two solid humps of muscle on either side of your neck.

"It's looking good, but not down until we finish your back." He says as he circles behind you.

You feel his warm hands dig into your back, almost like a professional massage. Unbeknownst to you, though, he is creating waves of muscle up and down your back.

"We're almost done with your upper body, but those arms look pathetic compared to that body." Lenny swings back around in front of you. "I have an idea to fix it." He says with a devilish smile.

He grabs your right hand and sticks your thumb into his mouth. He starts to blow, and like a balloon your arm starts to inflate. Your bicep inflates to the size of an American football as veins start to surface, adding to the muscly look. Your forearm follows suit while a black tattoo forms over it. And finally your delicate hand grows into a thick calloused manly mitt. He then repeats the process on your left arm, creating a star tattoo on your shoulder and another black tattoo on your forearm.

"That completes the upper body, but those scrawny legs just won't do anymore." Lenny states as he looks at your severely top heavy body. And you couldn't agree more as your puny legs are struggling to hold up your hulking upper body.

"First let's get you some manly attire." Lenny snaps, and suddenly your short shorts are replaced by a rugged pair of jeans with a brown belt. The belt doesn't seem to be doing much though, as the pants are still much too big for you. That won't be a problem for long.

"Now let's get you an ass to be proud of." He chuckles to himself before wrapping his arms around you and cupping each of his hands on one of your cheeks. He squeezes your flat ass, pumping it up with each squeeze. You feel the shelf form behind you as your pants get tighter and tighter until they feel like they're about to explode. Lenny finally lets go, making your cheeks bounce as they fall into place.

"Now that I see it, that bulge is basically non existent. Let's fix that." Lenny grabs your crotch and pulls up, aggressively handling your cock and balls. A visceral erotic sensation shoots up your muscular body as he handles your meat. Though you can't help but notice a pressure rising in your pants. Your now tennis ball sized testies are being squished between your legs and your thickening cock is struggling to tuck inside your pant leg. You let out a moan, the first noise you've been able to make and it shocks you how deep your voice comes out. You almost don't recognize it. Though that's the least of your concerns as Lenny finishes his final touches to your crotch. An unmistakable outline of your cock is permanently etched into a bulge in your pants, 10 inches long and as thick as a pop can. No pants you could ever wear will hide that monster from the world.

"You're coming along perfectly, but you're not done yet." Lenny says as he kneels down. "Time to fix these chicken legs."

He grabs your legs, slowly sliding his hands down your pant leg. Your thighs inflate as his hands glide by, making them double in size with muscle and fat. They're so thick that they permanently rub together, even when you try to spread your legs. If your balls weren't squished before, they sure are now. His hands then glide down your calves, leaving them thicker than your thighs used to be.

"Hmmm, these runners won't do. It just doesn't suit you. Some cowboy boots would suit your style much better." He snaps again and your brand new running shoes are gone, replaced by some massive size 20 cowboy boots with the spurs and all.

Lenny steps back and takes a moment to admire his work. "You're lookin good, but there are some details I need to get right before I work on your face."

He starts brushing his hands across different parts of your body. First across your chest, growing thick brown hairs all over your pecs. Then a light dusting over your stomach, arms, and back. Finally you feel an itchy sensation take over your legs as a forest of brown hair engulfs the lower half of your body.

He yet again takes a step back to get a good look at you. "Oh right! I almost forgot to fix your height, 5"8 just isn't gonna cut it."

He first grabs your legs and stretches them by 3 inches, temporarily making you look out of proportion. But he quickly fixes it by lifting up your shoulders, causing your torso to stretch 5 inches. This leaves you at an intimidating 6"4, making you tower over your boyfriend. The longer body really makes you look more manly, and gives more room to show off that six pack.

"And now there's nothing but your face. Don't get me wrong, your face is pretty, but it just doesn't match the rest of your body. So we're gonna have to change it."

Lenny starts by squaring off your jaw and making it sharper, accentuating your chiselled features. He then shaves your head, leaving a short buzz cut in place of your lucious locks.

"Let's give you some more manly features while we're at it."

He pulls out your browline, giving you a simpler and manlier look. Then he thickens your nose, complimenting your square jaw. And he pushed in your cheeks, making you look more mature. Speaking of mature, Lenny has much older plans for you. He starts by receding your hairline slightly, not enough to make you look like your balding but just enough to make you look mature. He massages your skin, forming wrinkles around your forehead, mouth, and eyes, though he makes sure not to touch those beautiful eyes if your. And finally he rubs his hands across your jaw and upper lip, leaving behind a somewhat patchy beard and moustache on your face.

"Now to deal with that pesky brain of yours." Lenny says as he rubs his thumbs over your temples. Suddenly it's getting hard for you to think. What was your name again? What do you do for work? What are your hobbies? You can't seem to remember anything, not even the grueling transformation that your body just went through.

"That should do it." Lenny smiles as he pulls his hands away from your head.

Ahh that's better, so much easier to think. You remember that your name is Bruce and you're a 43 year old farmer.

"What are you looking at son?" You ask Lenny in a deep southern accent.

"You're eyes, they're very pretty you know." He responds.

"You goin make me blush boy." You flash a rare smile as you pull Lenny in for a kiss.

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

BEGGING FOR A SUGURU VERSION OF THE SATORU HANDS ONE AND MAYBE PT 2 OF THE SATORU ONE ??

Omg now I'm thinking of satosugu

ANYWAYS ILY CINNA, THANKS FOR BEING THE BEST!

Their Plaything

Tags: SatoSugu x Reader, nsfw, mdni, hand kink, size kink, finger sucking, this might be controversial lol

An: I LOVE YOU NEPOBABYYYY THANK YOU FOR EVERYTHING <3

Living with the two strongest sorcerers in the world should be chaotic, right?

Wrong.

Well, actually… maybe you’re right.

But if there’s one thing about Satoru and Suguru, they try to protect you from their lifestyle at all costs. If they come home beaten and bloodied from a mission, they’ll still be laughing and reassuring you that their wounds don’t hurt that bad.

They never ever talk about the horrors they face. It’s none of your concern. Even if it’s patronizing to think the way they do, they don’t want you to deal with the emotional turmoil and stress that they have to. So, they make their jobs look easy.

Oh yeah, and that king of curses guy?? They’d definitely beat him. It’s really no sweat.

Even though they try to protect you from the horrors of jujutsu sorcery, they absolutely love when you worry about them. You’re the only person in the world that still treats them like they aren’t invincible, and they find it endearing.

Besides, after a long mission, all they really need is you.

Suguru loves to dote on your face. His oversized palm would cup your cheek, adoring how you nuzzle into his touch like a cat. His hand is bigger than your face, and it’s calloused too. His fingers are thick.. to the point where it almost hurts when he stretches you out, but it’s the best type of pain. His veins are bigger than Satoru’s. Even though Satoru is technically taller, Suguru is just stockier built.

He counts his blessings while thinking about how soft your skin feels. All this work he does… all the terribly corrupted things he’s seen is worth it to come back home to you.

His favorite is when you sit on his lap facing away from him and allow for him to play with your hair. You fit so nicely in his lap. His body can nearly encompass yours. He’ll rake his fingers through your hair for hours before his hands settle on your hips. His thumbs find the dimples in your back, and he just holds you to him.

Satoru is a bit different in his approach. He’ll hold his palm out for you to rest your chin on, and when you flutter those pretty eyes to look up at him, he can’t help but to indulge you in a kiss.

He’ll get on his knees in front of you and Suguru, and his hands trail down your body while you’re sat in Suguru’s lap. He’ll grope your thighs and massage your calfs while pressing kisses to whatever body part you’ll allow him to.

Satoru and Suguru are mischievous. They’ll do subtle things to turn you on — on purpose, and when you get all needy, they’ll tease you about being an insatiable pervert. When in reality, they’re the ones who were horny in the first place. Can you blame them? Being without their plaything for days while they’re on missions is like cruel and unusual punishment.

It starts off usually with Suguru. While playing with your hair, he’ll subtly give you a small tug. “Oh, I’m sorry, darling. Did I pull? I didn’t mean to.” He’ll whisper softly into your ear, knowing you get all squirmy when his breath fans across your skin.

It works every time without fail. You go to wiggle away from him, but his large hands hold your hips in place. “Ah, ah, princess, don’t run from me. I haven’t seen you in a couple of days. Let me have this.”

Before you know it, his hands are back in your hair, subtly tugging on it. He subtly smirks to himself as he hears your breath becoming more pressured.

Satoru knows all of Suguru’s tricks by now, and he immediately follows suit. He reaches up to cup your cheek. At first, it’s completely innocent. His thumb will trace soft lines into your skin while he watches as your face becomes more and more flushed.

“Don’t get too worked up now, sweets.” Satoru teases before he places his pointer and middle finger up to your lips. “We just missed you.” He says with a grin as you absentmindedly open your mouth and accept his fingers in.

Your mouth is so damn warm and wet. He can immediately start to feel his pants getting tight. He’ll subtly grunt as he watches you suckle and bite on his fingers. Nothing else in the world matters right now. All the hard work, blood, sweat, tears is for purely this… so he can come home and watch you live without a care in the world.

Suguru’s hands will subtly start to guide your hips. It’s so minuscule that you don’t even realize that you’re rocking back and forth right against his cock. Soon enough, you’re completely moving back and forth on your own, grinding against him until you’re soaked through your panties.

When you start to whimper and whine around his fingers, Satoru will pull them from your mouth. “What is it, sweets? Don’t tell me you’re feeling needy.” He taunts as he stands up from his knees, forcing you to look up at him instead of his cock that was tented in his pants.

“Yeah darling, we just got home… We just wanted to love on you.” Suguru chimes in before pulling your hair a bit more.

“You just see us as sex objects, don’t you? Just two cocks to fulfill those sick thoughts in your head.” Satoru immediately speaks up, not giving you a chance to defend yourself.

They’re so damn unrelenting. When both of them are together, you never have a chance for rest. It’s like they feed off each other’s energy and dispel it onto you.

“N-no, I… you two started it” You whine, trying to defend your case against them.

“Oh? You’re gonna deny it while grinding yourself against my cock? No one made you do that, darling.” Suguru whispers into your ear, making you shiver again.

“And what about sucking on my fingers? No one made you do that either.” Satoru pats the top of your head with his hand. “You’re so needy. I bet if I placed my dick right against your lips, you’d accept that too without question.”

Your hips immediately halt, and both of the men just laugh at you. “No, no, don’t stop now. You might as well get yourself off.” Suguru’s hands wrap back around your hips, forcing you to move back and forth against him again.

Satoru fumbles with his belt, and he tests his theory from earlier. Once his cock is out, he presses his tip right against your lips, and sure enough, your mouth opens right up for him.

“Good girl.” Satoru praises in a breathy groan while rubbing your hair.

“Such a good girl.” Suguru echos Satoru’s praise, whispering right into your ear as you struggle to take Satoru’s cock.

So, things aren’t too bad while living with the two strongest sorcerers. As long as you like being toyed with by both of them at once.