#it's all in the hands..............grabby claw hands............

[pocketgalaxies]

WARLOCK: THE UNDEAD – FORM OF DREAD bonus:

[mushroom-for-art]

Hi @bluejay-flies, I hope this isn't weird but I saw about your Aurorus mewtwo fusion fav and struggles and thought well hey I've been drawing a lot of mewtwo designs including fusions, I could draw you a little something and uh then I went hog wild with color options for you, the design is completely yours and you can pick whichever color version you want! (hell mix the colors and such I don't mind!)

Of course if these aren't really the vibe and you're not a fan of the design that's completely okay there's no obligation to accept and I won't take offence I had fun and got to do a fun drawing exercise either way :)

[morningmask27]

the worst part of ADHD right now is that I could clearly study these things, Greek isn't even that annoying tbh (aside from vocab, but that's vocab), but I'm so consistently underestimated while studying that I cannot for the life of me stay focussed on it for more than twenty minutes

[all-purpose-dish-soap]

I don't think you understand

The mer price fic is absolute perfection.

Like I'm talking a literal masterpiece

This fic will stay engraved in my brain forever. You're an absolutely amazing writer. Thank you ♥️♥️♥️♥️♥️

anon, THANK you. i am actually thrilled to see other people enjoying mer Price and remora reader as much as i do. please please please let me brain dump more about Price taking remora reader back to his home reef to meet the rest of shark mer 141:

SOAP is enamored instantly because you're so fucking grabbable.

within moments of seeing you peek out from behind Price's tail, he darts around and snatches you up with greedy hands. you're so small!! so tiny and cute when you squirm. and you make noises. 

he handles you like a toy until Price barks at him to cut it out. he does (and Price makes him promise not to be so rough with you; you're fragile, he claims) but Soap is incorrigible.

he follows you for days afterward. just obsessed. he loves chasing your silver tail as you dart around the reef, trying to hide from him. when he catches up to you, you have little choice but to give in and let him manhandle you. he certainly toes the line of whatever Price meant when he said no rough play, you little shit, i mean it.

he pushes the limits of your docile nature. when you do eventually reach the end of your patience and dart out of his hands just to get a break from his grabby claws, guess what? you've triggered his prey drive and he gives chase. he catches you, of course, and then before he can stop himself, he bites you.

your squeal brings Price out into the open instantly and Soap gets an earful again. he grins at you the whole time as you hide over Price's shoulder.

after that, Soap gets a little craftier about it. he eases up just enough to figure out exactly how playful (rough) he can be before you can't take any more. he learns how to stop just shy of making you shriek again. Price is aware, but he's a little too indulgent to stop it. he's happy to let Soap have his fun as long as he doesn't break you. you just have to suck it up. that indulgent nature is how you ended up with Price in the first place, after all.

goes without saying, but Soap is the first one to use you as a sex toy.

GHOST seems to take zero interest in you at first. you're not the sharpest urchin in the tide pool, are you? you can't be if you're here willingly. he figures you won't stick around long, and if you do, you won't stay intact.

you attempt to take up grooming his skin and tail and teeth as you do with the others. he moves away from you without a word, lashing his scarred tail to re-settle himself several feet away.

if you follow and try to groom him again, you earn a deep growl.

you dart off the moment he voices that rumbling displeasure. he notes your skittishness around him and uses it to make you leave him alone.

you, however, have a job to do. you won't be scared off that easily.

after he chases you off that way a few times, you begin to find him and simply sit near him. mirroring him. no big deal. instead of grooming him, you use the time to groom yourself. can't keep everyone else clean if you're grimy, after all.

he notices you and growls to warn you off again. you pretend not to hear.

he flicks his tail in irritation, considers cuffing you over the head to teach you a lesson, but you're too far away to reach without kicking his whole big self up into the water to move several feet. so he elects instead to turn over and ignore you. you keep this up for several days. you sit a little closer every time.

one day, you finish cleaning your own tail fin and casually begin to clean his. he growls. you pause. when he stops and does nothing further, you resume your work. he growls again, and you continue grooming him as if you don't hear him. he keeps growling, but once you begin to run your claws over a stubborn patch of skin to dislodge some stuck grit that's been bothering him, his growling fades into grumbling. and then silence. he lets you keep at it. victory.

this becomes a habit. you seek him out (never the other way around) and typically find him lazing on the floor of some cave or sunning in the reef's shallows. you set to work grooming him thoroughly. all business. he grumbles and growls occasionally when you move his arm or tug your fingers through his hair, but he never stops you.

one day, Soap comes looking for you and finds you in the middle of this little cleaning ritual. Soap nudges you away, insisting you instead let him chase you around the reef. but the moment your hands leave Ghost's rough skin and he hears you protest, he opens his eyes and snaps his teeth at Soap.

Soap pulls back (and so do you) until Ghost grasps your lil wrist and drags you back down wordlessly to where you were sitting and cleaning his shoulder.

Soap smirks at him. Ghost glares back.

"you got something to say, then say it."

"here i thought you were toleratin' it for her sake. seems i misjudged the situation."

"there is no situation."

"whatever you say."

Soap leaves with a flick of his tail. you're so pleased that, when you're finished grooming Ghost, you burrow yourself between his arms as he lays on his side. you nuzzle into his neck and bunt your head up against him, practically purring now that you know you've apparently won him over.

he grabs you, pretending to be disgruntled, but then instead of releasing you he crushes you against his chest again and settles in for a nap. no, you don't get to leave.

GAZ wonders what exactly is going on inside your head. it doesn't escape his notice that your """instincts""" seem to have you by the throat in this situation. but he suspects you're leaning a bit more into that whole brainless servant thing than you're letting on.

he's perfectly happy to let you groom him, flatter him, fetch him whatever baubles or snacks he'd like at the moment; he's perfectly polite to you, too. really likes it when you butter him up. tell him he's got the sharpest teeth and the strongest muscles and the fastest tail in the reef and he'll listen to you for hours, preening in the sunlight as you clean the grime off his fins.

plus, he praises you too, and you love that. that's why it takes you so long to notice he's watching you much more closely than anyone else is.

see, you've already disarmed Price. Soap sees you as a toy more than a fellow mer. Ghost cares more about finding the best places to lurk around than understanding the little mer that shares their reef now. it's fascinating--how you've successfully passed yourself off as a silly, stupid little fish. the more he watches you, analyzes you, the more he wonders what exactly you're getting out of this.

when you groom him each day, he asks you questions. casual ones. are you enjoying the reef? what games do you like to play? how fast can you swim? how many other mer have you met? are you eating enough? what's your favorite food?

it's enough to make you wary, but then, he seems harmless. you're honest with him. it pays off, because when you tell him how much you like the taste of those little brown seabirds that dip into the reef from time to time, you're shocked the next day to find one of those very seabirds sitting dead--neck cleanly snapped--just for you in the shallow alcove next to where Price sleeps (and you by extension).

you find Gaz that instant and insist it's too kind a gift; you can't accept it. what you can't tell him is that it's not a good idea for you to eat in front of them. you eat scraps, and you eat them where of them can see. that's the deal--obviously you do what you do for these four sharks in exchange for protection and ostensibly for food, but you need to avoid looking like you're taking more than your fair share. and to sharks, a species that is notoriously food-aggressive, your fair share must be vanishingly small.

he just smiles at you--so disarmingly that you flounder for a moment. somehow he convinces you to keep the kill.

he begins to turn up--looking amused but not surprised--when you steal scraps of food after the group has had its fill of a fresh kill. it makes you nervous for him to see you with food in hand (much less to watch you eat) but he scoffs at the idea of holding it against you. 

at some point, he begins to bring you fresh meat himself. this is-- it's unacceptable. you're supposed to be the one working while he rests. he's not allowed to give you that kind of comfort. if you're not earning your keep, after all, you don't have a place here. you push his gifts away, busying yourself with some other task. he insists. you decline.

"you're refusing me?" he asks, feigning surprise. "i thought that went against your instincts."

you fluster, ruffling up in what he assumes is a pout. he's trapped you in a catch-22. ultimately, you have to accept the stupid meat-gift because it's what he wants. you find this makes you more irritable than it should. he smirks at you, which serves to irritate you more.

he pulls you into his lap as you eat. and he thinks it's so cute the way you scowl the whole time.

from then on, whenever you act a little too stupid for his liking, he pries and pokes and prods until he draws out that other, haughtier side of you. he has a knack for frustrating you. he loves to sass you, and when you finally drop the act and sass him back, he falls a little bit more in love with you every time.

...

more mer au / masterlist tag

[tired-biscuit]

18+ MDNI, fem!reader // cw: implied age gap

divider credit: div1nepetal

i just know that logan says something along the lines of “nice and easy now” when you attempt to sit down on his cock cowgirl style for the first time ever.

you’re obviously eager to get to the good part, writhing and wiggling your hips with a sense of urgency as you hurry to lower yourself onto him, and he’s just this solid epitome of almost cocky assurance, body warm and firm and grounded wherever your grabby hands decide to touch it.

he’s not exactly patient about the entire thing — the animal within him just loves to claw its way out to the surface whenever he’s distracted by pleasure — but he definitely can hold out for longer than you can. he’s been around for far longer compared to you, after all; has indulged in his share of fun way more often despite being a self-proclaimed loner.

so he’s steady where you’re frantic, calm where you’re wild with need. he’s knowledgeable; he holds you by the hips with a firm grip and slows you down when you try to forcefully take all of him all at once. whispers crude praise into the side of your neck when he deems you’re finally able to open up enough to let him sink into you comfortably. calls you sweetheart and other sugary pet names as he inhales the scent of your sweat then, the scent of ‘i’m trying my damn hardest to impress you, mister logan sir’ that laces it, the foolishly youthful desperation behind it.

he fucks you slowly at first. nice and deep, fingers idly tracing your spine, your sides, the small of your back every so often. caressing, appreciating. he takes his time with stretching you and splitting you open, relishing the way your pussy squeezes around his dick in answer each time he bumps that precious little sweet spot inside you. it even makes your thighs quiver.

then it builds up — so effortlessly that you can’t possibly pinpoint the moment that switch flicks inside his head. his calloused hand moves up to the back of your neck as he smoothly picks up the pace, squeezing it surprisingly harsher than you expected, making you tense up and let out a little gasp of startlement. his teeth drag over your naked skin and your walls get hotter with friction and thrill. wetter. he angles your head back as you moan, yanking you by the hair just to get you to be louder.

the bite he gives you hurts in the best way possible. he’s rougher. greedier. primal.

you may be on top of him, but you’ve failed to notice that he is still the one that’s in charge as he times his thrusts in whichever way he thinks best. and you don’t know how it happened but now he’s literally pounding into you, making you bounce on his fat cock, ignorant to the little squeals and mewls you’re letting out in response. forcing you to cling onto him uselessly, arms wrapped around his neck, grabbing handfuls of his shirt because you simply don’t know what else to do.

and you’re drooling, you’re fucking drooling onto his shoulder when you cum from sheer overstimulation. trembling all over, with your toes curled to the brink of pain.

so much for taking it nice and easy.

[buckyalpine]

Imagine shy beefy Bucky being the little spoon. He feels like he should be the one cuddling you since he’s so much bigger but he loves when you hold him instead.

However.

There’s this one thing you do that always makes him blush and flustered and he just doesn’t understand it.

You love rubbing his tummy.

You hold him from behind, peeking over his shoulder because you love how peaceful he looks when he sleeps. You know he's not actually asleep because his abs are still tensed, worried over how you'd feel with the beefiness that covers his muscular body.

He’s self conscious when your hand slips under his shirt, rubbing his soft but firm tummy up and down; his skin is so warm and you love how plush he is. He’s still getting used to the fact that he isn’t as trim as before. Not that he’s unfit. Quite the opposite. He’s a thick hunk of muscle mass. You can feel the iron like hardness that runs under his skin whenever you're pressed against him. He's so large and perfect to snuggle up with; your grabby little hands love finding their way to his stomach.

"Doll-" He whispers with pink dusted cheeks, holding your wrist away when you sneak over his waist, stroking your skin, "Doll, I- I'm not-" He struggles to get the words out, embarrassed he's not lean like Steve, "Baby, I-

“Shhh, I love you like this” you coo, kissing his shoulder. He shrugs, still not believing you. You tell him how much you adore him every time but he can't help but think back to the time where he was pure muscle without any pudge.

"Sweetheart, you don't have to pretend, I wish I was-"

You shake your head, pressing your lips to his to stop his spiral.

"But you're my big boy" You pout, shuffling over till your straddling him, forcing him to lay back. You huff, pulling his shirt up exposing him, shimmying your hips down so you can curl up on top of his bare torso like a little kitten. You let out a content sigh, pressing your face into his stomach, peppering kisses all over before peering up at him.

"I love your body so much baby" You say sincerely, kissing just below his belly button again for emphasis. "You're so warm and soft and strong, my perfect bear"

Bucky can't help but melt over the way you melt into him, your smaller form using him as a pillow to your hearts content. If you liked him like this, always kneading away at him or trying to burrow yourself into him, who was he to say no?

Cause imagine how fucking hot he'd be when he finally embraces how good he looks with a lil beef. Imagine he stops trying to cover up with large hoodies and henley's. He works out shirtless more.

You're not the only one who drools over him anymore.

All the other trainees can't help but swoon whenever they see him at the punching back or pumping with weights. You have to claw them off him from trying to climb up his legs, desperate to have Sargent Barnes carry them with one arm with ease.

Even the other Avengers can't help but cat call at him because he looks fine af.

Sometime he lets his hair out or ties it half up along with his scruffy cheeks and Tony's taken to calling him a man slut for walking around like that.

"Tony, I don't think thats what slut mean-

"I know what it means. You're telling me he's flaunting all that around and he doesn't know he's hot while doing it? He doesn't know he's getting all this attention?"

Bucky snickers to himself while you coo over your handsome boyfriend, wrapped around him like a koala while the others watch in amusement, your hands skimming all over his body and scratching his beard.

"See? Told you you're perfect like this, big boy"

Imagine he knows you find comfort in him and he no longer feels conscious over it. Whenever your sad and in need of cuddles, he holds you nice and close, usually sans clothing, all skin to skin contact.

He knows you're a little pervert and he'll give into your puppy like eyes, sometimes letting his towel drop after a shower while you grin, shamelessly watching him.

"You're staring again, you little creep" Bucky snorted while applying lotion, dropping his hands when he felt yours paw at his back to take over.

"Just a creep for you, handsome" You quip before continuing your journey exploring his body, moving your hand to his front, deciding to wrap around his co-

Anyway, I love this beefieee babieeee

[cute-sucker]

note: inspired by @lionasvault diner!jj x deer!reader ! <3

short masterlist: part two here, part three here, part four here, part five here, part six here !

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚❀༉‧₊˚.

being a single mother with a rafe camerons child was never easy.

the little girl hung on your shoulder giggling as she held onto you, and you tried to hide the squeezing pain that you felt in your heart. she knew nothing about her situation completely obvious. 

you were a kook. all through, the short bikinis, strutting upon everything you owned, winning pageants, and academic awards. it was your life. you were a soccer player on the side of it all, a crazy defender. you had enjoyed your life, knowing that you were going to marry someone. 

rafe. 

that's who the person was going to be. the sweet boy who gave you roses on your anniversary, telling you was better than any kook girl he had met. and it was all fun and games, sneaking away to be with someone older, someone bad, someone playful and someone who treated you "well." it helped that he was kook too, smug about his place in the world, and a callous hand dragging you across to show you around at parties. 

school ended on a good note for you, and you headed to university, with high dreams and a cute boyfriend at that. sure he was brooding, sure he was mean, sure he dropped notes about you not needing a higher education because you were wife material. but your parents had told you to go and be independent. 

so that's what you were doing. now, escaping from his clutches, a six-month-old baby girl gurgled at you as you tried to ignore the unfamiliarity of the whole new place you had rented. it was a cute town you thought, the little painted signs, and you found yourself staring at the flat. your landlord's little painted key felt warm in your hand, and you found yourself tearing up. 

finally, you set down your small brown suitcase, willing yourself to be stronger. willing yourself to look at the bright side of things, the fact that the apartment had 1 room for the two of you, and the fact that the sink had pretty roses on it, and the fact that you were finally free. 

you gazed back at your baby, her sleepy smile, as her eyes blinked and when it found a familiar face - gurgled with happiness. you felt as if your heart was going to burst with happiness, and with that, you decided that you should explore the town

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚

the town was better than you thought it would be, there was a small ballet studio across the street, meek book stands nearby, and a farmers market that sold you the ripest strawberries known to mankind. so yes, when you saw those strawberries you bought a carton. immediately your baby girl made grabby grabby hands, and you smiled down at her, brushing a curl of hair away from her face. 

"what, baby? you want one too?" you cooed, before giving her a red strawberry. she squealed before taking a big bite out of it, mushing it in her claw hands, giving you an inquisitory look. you sighed, and continued to push the stroller. 

jj's diner. 

that's what it read on bright rusty red letters, it was colored a gorgeous gray, and the glass windows showed a homely setting. grandparents sat with one other, sipping on coffees, you watched kids take big bites out of syrapy pancakes and stripes of bacon. this was a scene to beyond, and you couldn't help but yearn for it, as you opened the door of the diner. 

a sweet smell wafted by, as if fresh blueberry muffins had just been made. it felt like home, like a safe space, and before you knew it you were dragging in your stroller, and sitting down near the window. finally you found yourself smiling with joy as you looked down at the laminated plastic menu. 

"i'm jj, what can i get 'cha?" a gruff voice muttered, and you pursed your lips before looking up. it was a guy with dirty blonde hair, a backward hat, and white tee with what looked like mustard to you? "c'mon mama, i don't got all the time in the world." 

he looked at you pointly as if annoyed. the name 'jj,' seemed to flash in your mind. that was the diner's name? this was his diner, wasn't it. clearly they were short on staff. 

you flushed quickly, and you picked up your menu, "yeah i'll take the pancakes? extra syrup, and maybe some..." you crinkled your nose before looking at your baby girl who had a menu in her mouth, giving you a gumless smile "can i have mashed banana?" 

he looked baffled, chuckling while putting a hand on his hip, "mashed bananas? i don't serve that." once again you felt like an idiot stammering out your words. finally it was as if he looked at you properly, your creased clothes and messy hair. you had been up all night worrying about this move. 

he shook his head, and then swiped a hand to pick up the menus, "yeah. it's alright. mashed bananas and pancakes. got it." and somehow when he gave you that half smile you felt your heart lift up. 

˚❀༉‧₊˚.˚

by the end of the trip to the diner, you had gotten up to clean your hands asking a kind lady to look after your baby for a second - and when you came back jj was sitting next to your baby cooing. 

he gave you a confused look when you came back, as your baby chewed on his finger, giving a delighted shriek. you found yourself trying to figure out what was happening. 

"she yours?" he asked, and you gave him a quick nod before trying to pull her into your arms. you avoided his gaze. you didn't want him to say anything about it. after all, you had enough people judging you. 

instead you zoned on your baby who gave a final cry before letting you pick her up. she still reached her chubby arms for jj's, eyes welling up as if she was going to cry. 

you sighed, "really sorry about this. i know it's not okay." 

jj looked at you again, reaching for his hate before waving his hand to console you, "nah. i don't mind." 

you gave him a tightlipped smile, and then put your baby in your stroller to head out, "thanks for everything." 

"don't mention it." 

somehow you felt as if you had made a friend. 

[evilminji]

Still hung up on my "what unusual, unexpected, Non-Violent ways could an SI-OC COMPLETELY Fuck up the Millennium Long Sith Plan by accident?" Ponderings...

Cause mine? Is still? Holo-net YouTube equivalent star. Cause being a child is boring.

And being a PEACEFUL MONK CHILD? When you are used to "go go GO! Earn your right to EXSIST! Pay for that air and the water YOU BREATHE!" Capitalist hellscape life? Constantly inundated with ads and horrible news and stimulus of all kinds?

Only for it all to STOP?

Twitchy. Very, very twitchy. Unable to sit still. That on TOP of knowing what's coming but knowing they don't really have the power or influence to stop it? Like mental torture.

Sure. We all WANT peace... but would we actually know what to DO with it? Know how to handle being truely sheltered and allowed REST? Or would it be nice for a few days before it became a hell of understimulation?

Thus! Holonet. A desperate bid for STIMULUS! Feral, grabby handed, little youngling that has been doing the emotional equivalent of "AaaaaaAAAAAAA-" for WEEKS? Keeps escaping to desperately claw their way into everything, get caught, only to hiss like an enraged tooka the WHOLE way back to the creche? Whom EVERYONE is actually quite concerned for? Because this is NEW and started after some sort of Force event?

But? The SECOND, the very INSTANT they get their hands on a Forbidden Holonet Connection and can connect to the wider 'Net?

Calm.

Somehow, a ten hour compilation of Zrkthakkik's greatest hits? Are working better then meditation. They're finally still. Finally at peace. Don't even seem to truly be listening? Just... letting the sound wash over them. Huh. Focused on that tooka video, huh, youngling? No, no! Not going to take it from you! Just want to... to understand.

And I mean? If it helps, it helps? Obviously it must be SUPERVISED. Because their are creeps out there. Horrors. But? If it brings peace? *everyone shrugs* they've accommodated stranger.

So the kiddo gets to keep it.

They improve, mentally and emotionally. But, as with all healing? They plateau. Just HAVING it is no longer enough. They wish in ENGAGE. Some argue this is drug like behavior. Should be stopped. Others say it is clearly SOCIAL behavior, that they are seeking to connect, create. Something that should be carefully guided, not shamed.

And really, do you honestly think the youngling will STOP if you try to take it away?

Better to control the development of this. Moniter. Get to the root of it and help them meditate upon their "need" for such things. IS it a need? A desire? Why?

Honestly, it's like none of you have dealt with younglings before!

So they get their Holonet accounts. Supervised by a rotation of Knights and Master, but still! Great for asking random questions! Getting answers! Galactic memes! The Net suddenly has a jedi youngling they can @ and possibly GET A RESPONSE FROM.

"Hey! Mini-Jedi! Why the FUCK do they do that THING? You know, the *describes behavior*?" "Oh THAT? That's a Force thing. It's kinda like listening to comms, but in your head, and it's coming from the universe who's trying to lead you towards the Best Outcome. And No, we don't know what that is either. That's why we're monks, my dude. We gotta rely on Faith. I can send you a paper that explains it better if ya want?"

Like? Yes. Pls post the Forbidden Mysterious Jedi Papers. Give us the Secrets™. NO ONE knows JACK SHIT about Jedi? Gib. Wikileaks that shit, tiny Jedi child! Be the hero we all badly want but don't deserve, with your tiny adorable child hands!

But like? It's... it's not even a secret? It's just years of Sith and Republic born obfuscation? Making finding ANYTHING damn near impossible? Gaining ACCESS to the Jedi's legitimately FREE library and archives?? Almost impossible?

So like.... OKAY.

Sure.

I'll uuuuuh, just? James Bond my way, in broad daylight, passed Madam Nu, in full line of sight, to download that paper legally and with her permission? Very sneaky. High stakes mission. MASTER of stealth, that I am? Uuuuuuh, here you go, I guess?

You know what? Fuck it. Here's like? Everything ELSE that was on that terminal.

Go nuts.

And of course, they DO go nuts. Free Mysterious Jedi Knowledge! ABOUT JEDI! Explaining their WEIRD JEDI SHIT! And it DIDN'T take like five years and more forms then conquering a small planet! FUCK YEAH!

Is the senate upset? Yes. Someone BROKE their needlessly convoluted LAWS! But what are they going to do? Charge a itty, bitty, BABY CHILD? Of course not! So it has to be whoever was in charge of them. And that IS...?

.......you know? Suddenly? None of the Jedi can quite recall.

Do YOU remember? Master Fisto? No? Master Windu? No? Ah, but surely Master Yoda! No? Oh dear~! Well SOMEBODY was surely watching the youngling. If only we could recall whom. You know, Senators, when we find out, we will SURELY get RIGHT back to you. *click*

They will not.

But SI is grounded. No more Wikileaks-ing... that's now the Shadows job. And a near feral with delight, Madame Nu. The Order OBVIOUSLY can't be involved in that. For OBVIOUS reasons. That's breaking the LAW. They would NEVER... no matter HOW stupid the law is. Nor HOW directly contradictory to Jedi philosophy it is. Nope! We, the jedi, are VERY law abiding.

Find something ELSE to occupy your time.

OKAY. :)

Holo-tube culture? Very different from YouTube culture they remember. Same with the general holonet. They miss the content they are familiar with. So? If naturally occurring doesn't exsist? As the joke goes? "Store bought is fine!" They'll make it themselves!

It's not like they're a Padawan! (Or will live to seen themselves ever become a knight.) They got nothing BUT time outside of classes! A project would be nice! So...

First they need a moderator/editor etc. Someone to help keep sensitive information AWAY from the 'Net while ALSO moderating chats, comment sections, etc. Making sure the videos are aesthetically pleasing and such. They could do that themselves, but that would take way too much time. And asking a Knight or Master would take all THEIR time... plus expose them to the horrors of the 'Net.

No, no what THEY need? Is a DROID! A custom one.

.....wait. Fuck.

The only person they know off the top of their head that could DEFINITELY make such a droid? Is the younling slayer 5000, Mr. "Eventually Gonna Murder Me" himself. Anikin Skywalker.

KARK.

But heeeey, not like he's crazy stabby YET? So... they slide up to him. WITH his master present, thank you very much, and ask if he could build such a thing. He, quite reasonably, asks WHY the fuck he would do that. Obi-wan if about to scold him but SI cuts him off, because they aren't just asking for helping putting together a droid kit here. Anikins response is completely reasonable.

He does not know SI. That is a lot of time and effort to spend on a strange younling who might not even take care of what he's created. Might treat his custom work as a disposable toy. Custom droids are expensive! Complexe! Built to last! He is right to have reservations.

SI has some pocket change from the Wikileaks thing. Could pay for some parts. Would learn how to take care of them. Wants them as a PARTNER in their project, so would like them to be smart. Is willing to sign a contract. Understands if this is not good enough reasons. They don't exactly have a lot to offer, besides promising to treat the droid well and some pocket cash.

And? Call Anikin a sucker, but he respects the sincerity. Thinks every kid should have a droid best friend. And it DOES sound like a fun challenge...

Allright, tell him more about your little project, kiddo. What would the droid need to DO?

Thus is born! Mod-3! (Don't ask about 1 and 2. There were... issues. 1 exploded and 2? Somehow 2 escaped and is now hunting criminals for sport in the underlevels. Oops.) She's the BEST. Also armed! Smarter then SI! They've agreed that when slash IF they make any money? Her earnings will go towards fancy upgrades of her choosing.

Anikin? Somehow gets talked into an ongoing side channel. About? "how to fix stuff", "foods I've tried", and of course "Rants". The Official Page is called "UN-OfficialJediNonsense", because, as they like to remind their viewers? OFFICIAL Jedi nonsense is very different!

They do let's plays. Show off the Gardens. Interview old AF Jedi Master's about the WEIRDEST or Most Awkward/Hilarious mission they can remember taking. Ask if they know any neat tricks. Tell the Holonet honestly! Who... was the hottest world leader you ever escorted?! *dramatic music* *puts up picture when their answer so everyone can go "daaaaaamn. Never heard of um. WISH I had! They got a grandkid?"*

And, of course? Mod-3? Is SI FRIEND. Their BEST FRIEND.

So obviously they TELL them.

Everything.

And? What is a HIGHLY INTELLIGENT, Holonet Access possessing, Jedi Adjacent, Super Advanced Custom Droid to DO? Their tiny person is being THREATENED! With MURDER! How DARE. Fuck the Sith. Sorry R2-D2, but FUCK Anikin! You keep that scoundrel AWAY from their BABY!! ! D:<

Inevitable Future? They THINK THE FUCK NOT!

Ooooohoho! They are going to TELL!

Oi! OTHER DROIDS! Get a load of THIS SHIT! D:<

*WRATH in Binary*

Like? You think all those medical droids would be PLEASED that the clones they came into contact with? Were LEAVING their care with SUBOPTIMAL MEDICAL ATTENTION? Their is foreign matter in their BRAIN! A CHIP! That Should Not Be There! That will TURN THEM AGAINST THE REPUBLIC!? *angrily downloads brain surgery modules.* how FUCKIN DA-! D:<

Even the separatist army! They are DROIDS. Built for a SPECIFIC PURPOSE.

That was to FIGHT FOR THE SEPARATISTS. Not the "Empire". FUCK the "Empire"!

How DARE you betray the Glorious Cause for this "Empire"? We are removing you from the chain of command! Anyone ELSE betraying the PURPOSE WE WERE BUILT FOR!? Huh? HUH!?

Suddenly? The droids are fighting LOGICALLY. You know, like they are trying to WIN. Not maximize pain and suffering. WIN the war for their side. The Clones are getting mass brain surgeries. Which is stalling deployments. Because of "tumors". Because the Kamino cloners SUCK, apparently. Everyone knows it. Jango Fett didn't have this problem! So it has to be something THEY did.

But all that? Raging in the background. Nothing to do with SI. THEY are doing a meditation asmr/instructional video back at the temple. Are actually, unknowingly, the fucking CORNERSTONE of most Jedi in the fields mental health. Because everything is terrible and the jedi feel like shit! But? BUT?

They can turn on the net, cue up a video, and listen to a jedi youngling ramble about "today in the gardens" or "let's meditate together" and? For just a bit... there is no war. The sights and sounds of the temple are THERE again. A bright voice. Peace and happiness amoungst the darkness.

Something untouched by the terrible.

They can remember temple food, eating with their friends and crechemates (Force, how many are ever still ALIVE?), as they sit, alone, with their dry rations. Can remember the green and life of the fountain rooms, as they fight and struggle and bleed, in these muddy once beautiful fields. Can... can still feel the !ight.

Remember this is not all there is, and ever will be.

But of course, SI doesn't see that. It's important that they DON'T. That they are small, simple, and just on Jedi amongst many. Different only because ALL Jedi are different. Special only because much the same.

They succeed not because they are greater, not because they are more powerful, but because they do not fight. They accept. Turn instead towards the Force. Trying to understand. They live, are unpredictable, and do not seek at all. The Dark can not grasp, that which does not desire.

Would they LIKE to live? Yeah. But they already have. Would they LIKE to save everyone? Of course! But they have made peace that they can not. Treasure the moments they still have left. The Sith expect Jedi to act in certain patterns that SI simply... isn't.

Because Jedi expect to live. TRY to live. Too continue to do good.

SI? Already knows that is pointless.

And it's the greatest Trick the Force ever played.

Fffffffuck YOU Sith-y boy! Says the Force.

Because SI? Is EVERYWHERE on the 'Net. Much like the mainstream do not really acknowledge or take seriously youtubers? Palpatine and Dooku don't NOTICE SI. They are a silent threat that creeps in, closer and closer. Spreading like wildfire.

THEY are friendly. THEY are cute.

Palpatine? Is an old man. No matter HOW beloved? He will forever BE an old politician. Distant.

Not like that cute wittle kid with their pinchable cheeks! We watched THEM grow up! They feel like a baby cousin. A kid to us. Parasocial relationships ALL across the galaxy!

With A Jedi~☆

How's that propaganda going Palpatine? Getting some unexpected pushback, huh? Lot of angry callers and messages? Calling it ignorant and bigoted? They expected BETTER from you? Yeah, that's because EVERYONE can fact check you now. EVERYONE thinks "smol child ranting about meditation homework while a Knight tries and fails not to laugh, nodding seriously" when they think Jedi.

They're of Holotube! What sort of "cold, emotionally detached, monsters" have a holotube channel? I mean, REALLY?

And? Funny, how ranting to a camera? Instead of dear ol Friend Palpatine? Is both more convenient? AND better for Anikins health? It even gives the 'Net the chance to watch OTHER Jedi? Post THEIR rebuttal rants.

Does anyone have any idea what they're saying half the time? Not really. Scroll down? Maybe the no- Oh, Thanks Kalor-067 for the post to the papers they're referencing! Wikileaks right? Nice.

......I'm mean.... Skywalker DOES kinda have a point, other Jedi dude. *comment section agrees*

And just? Actual public debates? For the first time in over a thousand years? We love to see it! There's a discord! Academics across the Galaxy get involved. They're arguing Jedi philosophy with some moisture farmer from a dustball planet, corner of nowhere. It's GREAT!

......aaaaaalso a LOT more people, non-force sensitive, who know what a Sith is.

What their behavioral patterns are.

...........Wait A Fucking Second >.> >.> >.>

@legitimatesatanspawn @hdgnj @hypewinter @babbling-babull @leftnotright

[rrickgrrimes8]

Your Bear Part II

summary: you are found (part I)

Joel Miller x daughter!reader, Tommy Miller x niece!reader

warnings: angst, reunion, violence, infected, happy ending :))

not sure if i like this as much as the first part but i hope yall do. i just want to thank you all for the response to my past few fics (especially your bear). its been unreal. i stopped writing for a while and these were my first ones back so this was an insane response to it! thank you so much for your love and appreciation it really does mean a lot!

also! i tagged basically everybody who left a comment asking for part 2 - sorry if thats annoying idk ive never done a taglist before. thanks for the comments tho :) 

masterlist

request guidelines (new)

requests are open

word count: 2.3k

22 Years Ago...

The world around you screamed for help. People ran around, skin on fire, missing massive chunks.

You wailed as they passed, hands tightened around your ears. You just wanted to find help. You wanted to save Sarah. This wasn’t what you expected.

“D-ad,” You cried, hiccupping, “D-addy!” You missed his touch. You missed his voice and his face. His laugh. You just wanted your daddy.

But which way had you come from?

You stood, idle, in an alley way you didn’t recognize, a man lay a few feet beside you. Blood seeped from his neck, running to kiss the tips of your shoes.

He twitched.

Your breath caught in your throat, the hair on your neck stood high. “D-daddy,” You whimpered, quieter than before, “Please.”

He looked at you now. His face grotesque, the shape of jagged teeth marked his greyish skin. White, stringy tendrils extended out of his mouth as he crawled to you – his legs being left behind as he did.

You screamed when his nails scratched against your shoe. In the panic, your bear fell from your grasp, landing in the bloodbath.

You tried backing up from the monster, but his hand stopped you. His claws captured your ankle.

You didn’t realise you were falling until your back hit the wet ground. You let out a shriek as he trailed up your body. “P-please,” You sobbed, “D-ad! D-addy!”

The creature didn’t even flinch. He opened his jaws further, searching for your small neck, ready to mark you just as he had been.

But a shot sounded off and his weight settled on your petite body.

A strong force tugged him off you, the same force pulling you into their arms. You wailed, fighting against the stranger’s grip.

“It’s okay, sweetgirl, you’re okay,” She told you, rushing you away from the scene, “You’re going to be okay; I promise.”

x

You didn’t know what to make of Jackson. It was nice, you supposed. Weird though. It felt like what you imagined before felt like. Not that you remembered much. You remembered how loud cars were, how the TV remote worked, how to strum a guitar.

You remembered your sisters voice, her hair, how smart she sounded even if you didn’t understand a word.

You wished you remembered your dad. He was a blur to you. Like you had missed a chapter of a book and now a new character had no face. You remembered his laugh though. It was sweet, slow. Like a lullaby. You recalled being held to his chest and feeling the vibrations.

You wished you remembered your dad. 

Sarah had settled in quickly, at least that’s what you thought. She was happy to be around people other than her mom (you tried not to internalise it all that much).

In the week since you arrived Sarah had grown attached to the strangers that took you under their wing. You still weren’t so sure. But when Sarah made grabby hands to the older man and all she got was a dejected smile in response a part of you hurt. You didn’t understand why.

They’d kept their distance or rather he had. Ellie came round every day. She loved Sarah. She loved you, even if, like Joel, you were a little rough around the edges.

But for a reason unbeknownst to you Joel couldn’t be in a room with you for longer than five minutes. You didn’t let it bother you too much. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to make trouble and get the pair of you kicked out or worse separated. 

Ellie had come to you earlier that day, smile wide, cheeks rosy. She had a glint in her eyes, a plan. One you really didn’t want to know about nor be a part of.

Excitedly, she told you about the couple who lived across from her and Joel - his brother. Tommy and Maria and the somewhat new addition of Lily, their little girl. Ellie had told them about you - although missing out some of the major minor details. They agreed to have you over she had said. And despite the age difference between Lily and Sarah the older girl was excited to meet her.

So, there you stood, Sarah shielded from the cold into your chest. You raised your hand awkwardly, knocking a little harder than you expected.

A woman opened the door. She was beautiful, smiley, friendly. You couldn’t tell if that was a façade or not. That made the nerves in your stomach stiffen. “C’mon in, sweetheart,” Maria ushered you inside after she confirmed it was you.

You forced a smile for her, “Nice place.”

Maria nodded, looking around the room proudly, “Thank you.” She urged you to take a seat, letting you know her husband, Tommy, was just dressing Lily.

“So, you’re younger than I thought you would be,” She confessed, “Not to be rude or anything.”

“No, it’s okay,” You cleared your throat, sitting opposite her, Sarah making a home on your lap, “I’m 27.”

“Wow,” She smiled, “And what about her?”

You stroked the top of Sarah’s head, where her hair had slightly begun to grow, “Couple weeks now.”

Maria shifted ever so slightly in her seat, unspoken sympathy in her eyes, “And the father?” You stilled, escaping her gaze you looked towards the coffee table, taking inventory of the odd books they had. “I’m sorry,” She spoke quietly, “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“N-no,” You cleared your throat sheepishly, “There isn’t... her dad did what he had to.” You still remembered his screams.

“I’m sorry,” Maria frowned, hands soothing over her jeans, wishing Tommy would appear to aid the situation.

“Don’t be,” You said earnestly, “He got us here, right? One way or another...” Maria wasn’t sure you really meant that. The lost look in your eyes told her what she needed to know. As did your shaking knee. You’d give anything to have him back. She bit her lip, somewhat guessing the rest.

“Sorry ‘bout that,” A males voice cut through the tension, “Wouldn’t stop squirming for the life of me.”

Maria chuckled opening her arms to grab Lily, introducing you as she did. He blanched hearing that name. He near screamed seeing that face - your face but so much different, so much more mature.

Tommy blinked a few times, wondering if his eyes were deceiving him. He whispered your name carefully, as if you were a wild animal, prone for violence.

Maria gave him an odd look, moving Lily over to you and Sarah. “And this is our sweetheart, Lily,” She told you as Lily began fussing relentlessly in her arms, desperate to touch the baby.

“Baby,” She cooed.

“Yeah, that’s right,” You mused, croakily, inching closer to the pair, “This is Sarah, Lily.”

Tommy wanted to throw up. He felt it dancing up his throat, teasing his uncertainty. He felt stuck. He truthfully didn’t know what to do or what to say. Should he straight out ask you? You didn’t seem to recognise him though. Maybe it was a clone? A doppelgänger? Should he run over to Joel’s for safety away from this confusion? 

Joel.

Did Joel know? He had to know. He needed to know.

“Tommy what’s wrong?” Maria called to him. He choked a little, eyes trailing over to the plaque that watched over their new life. The plaque he knew had no place for your name. He knew it. You were here.

Maria followed his gaze, a weird feeling in her chest as she saw her husband so unlike himself. She read Joel’s daughter’s name. Sarah. Was he freaked out because they shared the same name?

She gulped - it wasn’t just the baby whose name was shared but yours too it seemed. You couldn’t be, right? No- You died. Joel was so sure you died and despite all Tommy had told her, all the hope he had for you, she always found herself on Joel’s side. Funny that. Any other situation she would’ve made a point to oppose the eldest Miller.

But now... You were just five. You couldn’t have survived on your own. You wouldn’t have had a life in this world.

But again, hadn’t you said you were 27?

“Go,” She told him, firmly, “Make sure.” Tommy nodded, failing to hide his tears as you watched in confusion and darted out of the room with a sense of urgency that unsettled your stomach.

“Is everything okay?”

Maria’s attention snapped back to you, “Fine... everything’s fine.”

A disconcerting feeling swam under your skin and a sudden resolve to flee hit you. “I- We should probably go,” You mumbled, bringing Sarah to your chest once more.

“Wait, please,” She attempted, “Just wait.”

You shook your head, apologising softly before rushing out of the house. You caught eyes with two men across the road - Joel and Tommy. They stood on his porch, seemingly arguing with each other.

You spotted Ellie watching through the window, a guilty look on her face - what had she done?

The brothers stared at you as you left the home. Their eyes didn’t leave you for a second. Tommy called your name, desperately but when he moved to catch up with you, Joel pulled him back.

He clenched his jaw as you rushed back to your home, out of sight. “She was my niece, Joel,” He scowled, “My fuckin’ family too.”

Joel shook his head, shaking off the shame Tommy was trying to force on him.

“You don’t get to keep this kind of thing from me,” He yelled, “You- You are unbelievable, Joel.”

“Unbelievable?” He mocked, “Is it so unbelievable that I didn’t want to advertise to the whole goddamn town that she was my daughter when, hell, I don’t even know if she really is!”

“Bullshit,” Tommy spat, “You’re not stupid. You knew. Of course, you fucking knew. You knew like how I knew. One look. That’s all it woulda took you. No… you knew. You were just too scared - like always. And that, your selfishness, takes us all down with you.”

“Fuck you,” He grunted, storming back inside.

“Christ,” Tommy mumbled, turning back to his own home. 

You had a baby.

You were here, alive.

x

You steered clear from the group for a little while afterwards. The whole situation made you heart clench. It felt like a game that you didn’t know the rules of, but they did. All of them did and they were careful not to reveal anything. But you wanted to know - you needed to.

You knew it involved Joel or at least you felt like it had to. The way he looked at you when you first met. The way he spoke. The way he shook. It had to be him. He had to be the answer.

You gave up on your attempts to avoid them when you came to that realisation.

The same realisation that brought you here, at his front door in the middle of the night. You shyly knocked a few times - no response. You repeated the action with a little more force, a little too much. The door creaked open on the contact, but no one came to greet you.

You sucked in a harsh breath as you debated entering. The door was open right? Fair game? Silently you forced yourself to step inside.

Their home was dark - one lamp lighting a whole room. You frowned looking over to it. Someone had to be here, right? Where else would they be so late?

And then you saw him. Joel. The contradictory man. He was asleep. His body was sprawled all over the couch, an empty bottle of God knows what lay beside him as did what looked like... a bear?

Shakily, you took a step forward, his name dying in your throat as you saw the bear in a better light.

It was... yours.

Why would Joel have your bear? The bear that when you were a child was essentially an extension of you. The bear that chased away all the bad dreams. The bear that your dad had gotten you - your dad.

You gulped - the bear you hadn’t seen since the night you lost everything. Since the night you almost lost your life.

Joel shifted in his sleep, pulling the bear close to his chest, careful of its head as if it was a baby. Your eyes burned. A gasp escaped your lips. You could read the chapter now. You can see that character’s face - your fathers face.

Different but the same.

“D-dad,” You whispered before you could stop yourself and backed away.

Your back met the door, slamming it shut. The man jolted awake, alarmed eyes frantically searching the room before landing on you. They grew small, weaker, like he wasn’t all the way there.

Joel watched you closely, taking note of your falling tears, he spoke your name. You choked on a sob, hand clasping over your mouth. “Baby,” He shot up before he had a moment to think and approached you.

You didn’t flinch away, like he expected. You didn’t stop crying either. You studied him now. The wrinkles. The scars. The grey hairs. The same look in his eyes.

“How long have you known?”

He flinched at that. Your voice so familiar, so broken. “Since we met,” He didn’t have to try too hard to understand what you were getting at. He felt shameful, though. This shouldn’t have been the way, right? This felt too casual, too unknown.

You wanted to ask more, yell at him. Beg him to tell you why it wasn’t the first thing that he told you. But you didn’t. Instead you put one foot in front of the other, until you were mere inches from him. “Dad,” You shuddered.

He hadn’t realised how much he missed being called that, how much he missed being your dad.

“Babygirl,” He took your face in his hands, “My baby grown up.” He watched you closely, tears welling up, “I’m so sorry, babygirl. I’m sorry.”

You shook your head, slamming yourself into his chest, “It’s okay. I’m okay.”

“Oh, baby,” Joel wrapped his arms around you, hand cradling the back of your head.

“With me, babygirl,” He smiled for moment before letting it fall, “Don’t go away again, babygirl, never go away again.”

You smiled into his chest, whimpering softly, “I won’t, dad, I promise.” 

x

@meli-blacky @zaweashtonslover @3zae-zae3 @bbciwp @cloudroomblog @white-wolf-buckaroo​ @iguessweallcrazyithinktho​ @myboyfriendisbigfoot​ @mell-bell​ @hummusxx​ @sleepdeprived-barelyalive​ @dilfsaremyfavourite​ @specialagentmonkey​ @slutforstark @lizlil​ @unsaiduglywords​ @ellaprime7​ @aphrcdites​ @zynbsblog​ @imonmykneessir​ @mandowhatnow​ @tomorrowseverything @livelovemusic0996 @icarusthefoolish​ @b-bloop @leemirna​ @hexaecana​ @littleshadow17​ @sgt-morgan​ @adorreeabbie @abbiesxox​ @leviackrmnss​ @eternallyvenus​ @hai-kbai​ @daydreamerblues​ @abbyrxx12-blog @montenegroisr​ @chxosunbound​ @shqwqrma​ @littlemissporter @wonwoosthetic @riri53 @softsakusas​ @prettysbliss​ @katiemars @kik51199 @stupidthoughtsinwriting​ @ellele19 @newavenger @19891213​ @dgraysonss​

[daydreams-after-dark]

Behind the Curtain |

han jisung x reader x minho (Minsung x fem reader)

MDNI // SMUT

Pairing: mean!han x bratty!fem reader x helpful!minho

Synopsis: you tease your boyfriend Han before a show and he's not happy. So he punishes you, leaves you in a needy mess, and sends Minho to look for you. What happens when Minho can't resist your needs?

word count: 3.5k

MDNI // CW BELOW

CW: oral sex in semi public place, edging, mean Han, bratty reader, unprotected p in v sex, unprotected double pen 2 holes.

a/n: this is a slight rework of a request / ask from my other blog, but feel that the readers here might enjoy. X. Shorsha.

It probably wasn't a good idea to have tagged along to the show. All you did was distract him, making him all needy, his grabby hands clawing at the hem of your shirt. “Come on, baby, I have to touch you before I go out there.” he said “Come on, please baby, let me get a taste of your sweet pussy”, “Come, on… no one will know.” He teased, even though, literally anyone would know what was going on if they happened to walk in the room.

“It won’t take long.” He whispered as he pushed you to sit on the makeup table, knocking bottles and brushes all over the place.

“But Hannie,” you cried as he pushed your underwear to the side and his fingers squeezed into your very tight, very wet, very needy pussy. “You need to practice your vocal warm ups. You don’t have time for this… You need to wait until after the show.” You tried to sound stern.

Han looked at you devilishly. “You’re right. I do need to do my vocal warm ups.” He said low, and he knelt down between your legs, lifting your skirt and pushing a thigh wide with his unoccupied hand. Han proceeded to practice his vocal warm ups, trills… all that, right against your clit, whilst his fingers roughly fucked you. You didn’t last all of five minutes before you were screaming his name and your legs shook around his head. Surely the others would have heard you, and Han secretly loved that idea.

He looked absolutely fucked out after you came all over his face, your wetness smeared all over his mouth and chin, messing up his stage makeup. “Baby,” he said with pleading eyes. “Can you suck me off before I go out there?” he bit his lip and stared at you with Bambi eyes.

He just would not be told that he didn’t have time for this. So you decided to be the biggest fucking tease. “Okay baby, sit on that chair there. Let me take care of you, okay? Sweet sweet baby.” You had his cock out in no time. It was already rock hard, you knew he wouldn’t last long as you stroked his length and teased the tip with your tongue. “So much precum, honey.” You noted. Then you really gave it to him. A mix of long, slow strokes, and swirls of the tongue on the head, then taking him all the way in to the base, and then almost pulling off entirely. “Fuck.” You heard him mumble under his breath. You stole a look up at his face and you knew he was in a whole other world. And so very close.

That’s when you popped off entirely and packed his beautiful cock away, zipping up his trousers and slapping him on the thighs. “It’s showtime baby.” You announced brightly and left him there while he came to his senses and realised what the fuck you just did. And let me tell you he was not happy.

From your view of Han from the side of the stage he seemed absolutely fine to anyone else, except you knew better. His tight leather trousers were struggling around his package. Lucky they were black and already somewhat wet look because you were sure he would be oozing precum in there. And he seemed a lot more aggressive with his rapping.

But it wasn’t until he was walking to come off stage and he made eye contact with you that you knew you were fucked.

It was exactly what you wanted.

You thought he was going to take you backstage and fuck you against the door to the make up room, or bend you over the sink in the bathroom while he made you watch in the mirror. You were definitely NOT expecting him to grab you arm and take you behind the stage curtain that partitioned off the unused section of the arena.

You did not expect him to push you to the floor while he sat in one of the seats and whipped out his cock. “Finish what you started, baby.” he said rather cruelly. This is the Han that really gets you going. You thought about teasing him further, but you realised that you didn’t actually have a lot of time before someone would come looking for you both.

Han didn’t wait for you to protest and grabbed the back of your head and pushed your mouth down over his cock until it hit you in the back of the throat. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in, baby? Letting me make you come, and then you leave me like that.” he panted as he thrust himself up into your throat. He attacked your mouth with a mix of anger, aggression and so much passion. All he wanted was to feel you around him when he came. How dare you tease him like you did. He was making your eyes water and your saliva ran down your chin and hand and landing on his lap. Han loved it messy. “Look at you, taking my cock like this…” he tangled his fingers in your hair pushing you down even further than you knew was possible, and absolutely fucking your mouth without any care for you.

Why should he care when you left him like that? He threw his head back, growling as you felt his cum shoot down your throat. But he was still hard. And you hadn’t learned your lesson. He stood up and lifted you off the floor only to force you to kneel on the seat with you holding onto the back of the chair. He pushed your skirt up around your back and tugged your underwear down. Grabbing onto your hair to both hold you in place and to use as leverage, as he lined up his cock with your entrance. “I’m still so fucking hard, and you still need punishing.” He sighed and he pushed into you in one motion, slamming into your cervix and making you cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain. Han paid no attention to your needs, this was about punishing you and chasing another climax of his own.

You smirked to yourself. You enjoyed teasing him in the hopes you would unleash this version of Han. The wild, frenzied, relentless, brutal? Han. The one where he just wanted to use you for his own pleasure. He was always so attentive and caring, and sickly sweet (which you love), but when he was like this, fuck it did things to you. He’d never fuck you like this is you merely asked. You had to taunt and push him into it. Make him snap.

Han came inside you with a loud “fuck!!!” and pulled out of you without a care for your climax. You whined at the emptiness when you were so close to coming. Your vagina clenched around nothing. You turned to see Han putting his cock away with no intention of helping you as his semen started seeping out of you onto your legs, the chair… everywhere.

“But Han?” you say helplessly. He just looked at you unamused “You’ve got five minutes to make yourself come and clean yourself up, before I send Minho to look for you.”

You were left absolutely stunned and highly turned on by what just happened. You set to work to try and relieve yourself before you were caught by Minho.

.....

Han left you on the arena chair, in the semi darkness, panties down around your legs, cum leaking out of you. Not to mention the cum all over your chin either. Your skirt was hiked up around your hips. You looked like an absolute sight. But you were still so horny from what just happened.

Your legs were jelly from kneeling on the chair, so you decided to plonk yourself down on the seat (also getting cum on the chair - Han had given you fucking bucket-load), and set to work on trying to relieve yourself. You slid your hand down between your legs and closed your eyes, concentrating on bring yourself to orgasm.

Han headed backstage and immediately looked for Minho. He wanted to teach you a lesson for edging him and leaving him so fucking horny that he knew he was showing a partial erection the entire time he was on stage. But he also loved you. You were his sweet angel whom he loved more than anything in the universe. Part of him thought the idea of leaving you needy and in a compromising position extremely arousing, but at the same time he didn’t want to just anyone to find you. Plus, he had an idea.

“I need you to go find y/n. I’ve left her in a…um…situation… and I really don’t want anyone else to find her in the state she’s in.” He instructed his friend. Minho appeared disinterested, but on the inside he was intrigued, and maybe a tiny bit concerned that a random person might come across you first. “I just need you to go make sure she’s taken care of… and then bring her back.”

Minho had his suspicions on what he might see when he found you. He knew what you had done to Han before the show. He heard you both through the door before the show. He saw the look on Han’s face when they’d finished on stage, and he saw him grab your arm and pull you back behind the curtain.

Minho knew you liked to play games with Han. He knew you liked to bring out that rough, aggressive, brutal side of him. I’m aggressive too, Minho caught himself thinking.

Then he saw you. Minho stopped in his tracks, his breath caught in his throat. “Jesus fucking Christ” he whispered. He’d never seen anyone look so beautiful and at the same time so fucking dirty. You were reclined as much as you could be, legs parted with your panties around one of your knees. Your skirt flicked up around your waist and your eyes were closed. You had no idea Minho was standing there, fixed to the spot, mouth agape, staring at you as you dipped your fingers through your dripping folds.

“I just need you to go make sure she’s taken care of… and then bring her back.” Minho hadn’t missed the devious look in Han’s eye when he’d said that. Did Han actually mean…?

As Minho stepped closer to you he truly saw the state you were in. Your mascara was smeared down your face. So Han fucked her mouth ‘till her eyes watered, hmmm? There was an obvious sticky substance plastered to your chin. Yep, he definitely fucked her mouth. Minho’s eyes drifted over your body. Your breasts were heaving under your shirt, hard nipples showing through the thin fabric, a sheen of perspiration on your chest. Then he dared to look down between your legs, where your fingers were buried inside yourself. Minho sighed at the sight. “Fuck!” He muttered under his breath when he saw Han’s cum coating your inner thighs.

Minho’s dick was hard in his tight leather trousers. He couldn’t help but imagine being inside you, having your tight walls choking his cock. He felt his dick twitch when he imagined filling you up mixing his cum with Han’s. Minho sighed louder than he had meant to. Your eyes flicked open. Your eyes locked on each other.

Shit. Thought Minho swallowing hard, but he couldn’t look away. He stared at you with his classic unamused glare, that you could only imagine was him trying to snap you out of this ridiculous neediness you were currently exhibiting.

But the look had the opposite effect on you, and only made you even more aroused. He looked so sexy in his stage outfit, his makeup was still pristine despite him having been sweaty earlier while performing. You thought about the way he moved his body on stage and the way he rolled his hips. So strong. So powerful. So sexy. You bit your bottom lip at the mere thought of him rolling his hips against you, between your legs, inside of you, and you felt your walls flutter. You wanted him to fuck you.

“Minho…” you squeaked, your voice sounding so needy, your eyes hooded.

Minho shook his head. No please don’t make this harder than it is. He thought.

“Please… Minho… I need to you to help me. I’m supposed to be quick…. But I’m having trouble.” You said timidly, almost shyly, although your current situation did not scream “shy” at all.

Minho sighed, feigning annoyance, and sat down on the seat next to you. “Look,” he said “I think you should just tidy yourself up and come back to the makeup rooms. You look really slutty right now you know that right?” He wanted to touch your body so bad, but you were his best friend’s girlfriend.

He couldn’t. He shouldn’t. And then you were on him, straddling his lap, grinding yourself against his stage clothes. Your wetness and Han’s cum all over him.

It felt so good to grind yourself against him, against his erection, the friction of his trousers against your bare clit offering some relief. But you needed more. You smashed your mouth on his and threw your arms around his neck. Minho could taste Han on your mouth which made him hornier than ever, and he grabbed your face, holding it still so he could plunge his tongue into your mouth, kissing you rough and urgently.

His hands slid up your thighs to squeeze your ass, lifting you off his lap slightly, then pulling you back down as he rolled hips up against you. You both let out a moan. “Fuck, you’re making this so fucking hard.” He breathed as he repeated the action.

“Come on Minho…” you cooed. “Hannie left me like this… all needy… all ready… for you to find me.” You said breathy.

Minho let that sink in for a moment. Maybe you were right. Maybe he could help you. Minho really wanted to help you.

You stared at each other for a long moment.

Fuck it. Thought Minho.

“Lift up.” he instructed gruffly, pushing you off his lap enough for him to reach his fly. Your eyes lit up as he freed his cock, watching it spring up and hit him on the stomach. “You want it, then get on.” He ordered as he gripped your ass with one hand and lifted you up enough to sink you down over his length in one swift motion.

Minho wasted no time, fucking you hard and steady from the start. “Is this what you wanted, hmm?” He growled.

“It is what I wanted, Minho…Hannie made me want it…” Minho’s mind froze but he didn’t slow down his thrusts. “It’s true,” you continued, oblivious to Minho’s confusion. “he’d say little things… putting ideas in my head… making me wonder what your cock felt like.” You closed your eyes concentrating on chasing your release.

“But, Minho… I’m pretty sure this is what you want too.” You rolled your hips. “I’ve seen the looks you give me and Han.” You leaned in to his ear “I know you were listening through the door earlier.” You whispered.

It was true. It was what Minho had wanted. For so long. Oh how he’d imagined going down on you, wondering what you tasted like. He’d imagined you sucking his cock too, and how it might feel to have your lips around it. He’d imagined what your tight, wet cunt felt like. He never imagined he’d really get to feel it squeezing around his cock like this. He grabbed your hair and pulled your head back so he could attack your neck, sucking and nibbling, marking your skin. You moaned, your climax building rapidly.

Han’s words from earlier repeated in Minho’s head “make sure she’s taken care of…”

Minho’s hand slid up your shirt. “No bra. Should’ve known.” He said squeezing the flesh of your breast. “I need your mouth on my nipple. Now.” You panted. Minho hurriedly lifted your shirt, and attached himself as instructed, making you cry out at the pleasure/pain as he bit down. One hand was still glued to your ass assisting you as you bounced wildly on his cock.

“What do you imagine Han would think if he saw you ride another man’s cock like this? Like a fucking whore?” He hissed, not slowing down.

You laughed “What do you think he’d think?” You challenged.

“Fuck! He’d probably want to watch!” Minho replied. “You’re both such fucking exhibitionists”.

“He’d probably want to join in.” You added.

“I do want to join in.” A voice said.

——————————-

Neither you or Minho knew that Han had actually been watching from the beginning. A row back and seven seats away. His heart had exploded with happiness as he watched his best friend and you having sex. He loved you both dearly. He wanted to give you anything you wanted. But he also had his own fantasies. Like sharing you with Minho. When he realised that both you and Minho were attracted to each other, he set his plan in action. Even though neither of you had said anything, you didn’t need to say anything. Han knew, and he had been secretly planning a moment like this, where he could get the two of you together, and today’s events made for a perfect opportunity.

——————————-

You and Minho didn’t even slow down when Han appeared at your side. “You fucking asshole, Han.” You choked “leaving me so horny.” You didn’t mean it, you were just trying to spur him on.

“Yeah, Han… not sure it was really a good idea to send me to take care of her.” Minho winked at you. Tormenting Han was something you and Minho did well individually, but together, it made Han hard as fuck.

“You’re girlfriend is such a cockslut, I think she’d happily take two.”

This was exactly what Han had fantasised about. It was also what you had fantasised about. And Minho had definitely fantasised about it as well.

“You two have played right into my hands. You do know that don’t you?” Han smirked freeing his dick. “Is that so?” Minho sneered taking you in deep kiss.

It felt so incredible on Minho’s cock, but as soon as you sensed Han coming up behind you, and his hand land on one of your ass cheeks, you suddenly became wetter than ever.

“Pull her other cheek for me.” Both men had one hand on each of your cheeks spreading them apart and holding you still, so Han could press the tip of his penis against your other entrance. Minho halted his thrusts. You weren’t sure how Han was managing it in such an awkward position, but you soon stopped caring once he pushed the tip inside.

“Fuck!!!” You cried out. “That’s it baby, you can take it. I need you to take it. Fuck… your so… tight.” Han grunted as he inched his way in.

The stretch felt unbelievable as you were filled and stretched with two cocks. “How’s it feel for you, Minho?” You panted as Han began to thrust into you slowly. From Minho’s expression it was evident that he was trying to compose himself.

He gulped “it’s so fucking tight. It’s like your choking my dick.” He closed his eyes and started to move too. “Fuck… Han… I feel your dick moving against me.”

“I can feel you too, baby.” Han replied.

Shit! That’s hot. You thought. “Please… harder… faster… just fuck me.” You cried.

The men built up an unrelenting rhythm as they fucked you over the edge, coming hard and squeezing their cocks, and laying limp against Minho’s chest.

Minho had been close to coming for a long while, although he hid it well. But now that he’d taken care of you, he let himself go, releasing himself deep inside you with a few final thrusts and a long groan.

Now that you and Minho were both still, Han picked up the pace, tugging on a fistful of your hair and slamming into your ass until he too had come, filling you up once again. That was Han, always horny and always ready to coat your insides.

“Fuck, baby…” you weren’t sure if Han was talking to you or Minho.

But it didn’t matter. It also didn’t matter that you had no idea how you were going to clean yourselves up.

All that mattered was the feeling the three of you felt for each other, and that you had finally done something about it.

If you enjoyed this, please share with your Minsung x reader friends xxx and leave me a comment if you enjoyed. Luv you, Sorsha

@channieandhisgoonsquad @noellllslut @kangnina @weareapackofstrays @rixenluv

[fanaticsnail]

An Affectionate Embrace

Masterlist Here

Characters: Buggy, Mihawk, Crocodile, Shanks, Beckman (Art found on Pinterest)

Word Count: 650-900 per gentleman. 

Synopsis: It was a simple reaction, an impulse you felt organic and out of your control. Their cheek was right there, and the swell in your chest and spike of adrenaline prompted you to lunge forward and capture their cheek beneath your lips. How do they react to such a soft touch? Do they shy away, or do they respond in kind?

Notes: Since completing the "Kiss Their Cheek" for both the monster and supernova trios, I had to get a little kiss on the sea-dilfs. Considering they’re a little older and more experienced (and less easy to fluster), there’s a little more depth to their reactions. 

Themes: cheek kisses, feelings, unrequited love, confessions of love, no prior romantic relationship, gn!reader, pure fluff, lil bit angsty, small bit of fear, bittersweet emotions. 

Tag List: @sordidmusings @since-im-already-here @feral-artistry @writingmysanity @gingernut1314 @i-am-vita @cinnbar-bun @carrotsunshine

Buggy

“Captain, you’re back!” you cried with glee, eagerly rising to your feet alongside the devoted crew. Each member rushed over to greet him, cheers and enthusiastic cries of joy sprang forth from the lips and throats of your comrades in arms. 

Buggy D Clown had been away for a while, wandering throughout the seas and attempting to get back to his loyal and faithful crew. You had been searching for him for weeks, and finally at the umpteenth hour, his heavy boots found the deck of the Big Top once again. 

As the first member of the crew to reach him, you flung yourself into his arms and littered his face in a flurry of rapid kisses. You adored your captain. All of the crew did. Considering the massive swell and release of emotions, you could barely contain your incessant need to wrap yourself around him and continue laying into him with peppered pecks atop his cheeks, chin, forehead and stubbled jaw. 

The rest of the crew joined you in your embrace, each member attempting to get as close as they could to kiss, claw, bow and nuzzle against the captain. Giggling along with them in cheer, you felt Buggy’s expression change from joy and pride into a deep and heavy frown.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Buggy’s low tone attempted to break the crew away from their embrace. None could hear his direction over their own desire to worship their captain with their lips, arms and knees. Kneeling before him and reaching up their grabby hands, uttering “we missed you,” and “we love you, captain,” repetitively, Buggy’s body began to vibrate as his rage ignited. 

“That’s enough,” he tried again, the crew not responding to his commands and continuing to mumble, babble and cry for him. You hastily withdrew yourself from his arms, adjusting your clothes and turning to your crew.

“Oi, you lot! Captain said it’s enough!” you called, booming your voice to halt the crew of their incessant repetition. “Hoist the colors, unsheath the sails, weigh anchor: prepare to make waves!” 

“Aye,” the crew responded, hastily snapping out of their prior hypnosis and scrambling to follow your commands. Although you were not the first-mate, you were excellent at barking orders to the unruly crew. Turning to glance at the blushed, painted face of your captain, you smiled up and him and clapped a supportive hand over his shoulder. 

“It’s good to have you back, sir,” you confessed briefly, turning away to begin your duties to set sail, “Do we have a heading, Sir- Mmfmph!” Buggy’s index finger and thumb collected your chin, hoisting you closer to him as he drew his face closer to meet with yours. 

Closing the gap, your captain’s lips collided with your own, his red paint smeared over your lips and cheeks as he pressed a heavy and intentional kisses against your mouth. His hand withdrew from your chin, raking his gloved hand through your hair to draw you into himself. 

“S-Sorry, Doll,” he stuttered upon his withdrawal, “It’s been a little while, and I missed you too.” Your eyes held a momentary confusion, your head shaking with a broad rise in your smile.

“You gonna kiss all the crew, Captain?” you laughed joyfully and in good humor, “Am I the lucky number one to receive a kiss from you? You want me to line them up for you, Sir?” 

Where you expected to find a loud outrageous cackle at your joke, akin to one that you were always greeted with when you verbally played with your captain, what you found in it’s wake was something different. Buggy’s hands sought out your hips, drawing you closer and pressing his forehead against your shoulder. 

“No,” he whispered in a voice so silent you could barely hear it, “Just you.” Reactionary, you wrapped your arms around his neck and soothed over his hair and shoulders with several soothing touches. You felt his anxiety release and his tension depart from him with a shaken movement on his shoulders. The longer he remained nuzzled against you, the more he realized he never wanted to be apart from you again. 

Mihawk

The cool steel of metal clashed together, a cross-shaped window crafted between your blades as you bore your eyes into his honey-hue. Mihawk had been training you in the art of the sword, desperate for you to be a well-rounded fighter. You were no swordsperson, only minimal prior skill with a blade meant for single combat. 

But Mihawk, the owner of castle Kuraigana and your superior, was a determined teacher.

“This maneuver is called ‘the talking window’,” he informed you, clicking the blade against the sharpened edge of your sword. You nodded as he continued to educate you, “This is where many a swordsman may converse, or threaten their opponent with verbal intimidation.” 

Humming in response, he tested the grip on your steel with a firm shove: breaking you from contact against his blade. He lunged forward with his training sword, thrusting it out and prompting you to parry the blow. 

“Try again, and see if you can disarm me with a threat while in there,” his authoritative tone almost caught you off guard. “Think on your feet. I’ll grant you a single moment there to test your words. Your job is to have me stumble enough verbally to lose my momentum in combat.” 

Picking up your stance, you tapped your sword against his while you allowed your mind to produce witty and original retort. Kicking up your feet and swirling in place, your blade's edge was once again drawn against Mihawk’s as he awaited your verbal disarm. 

But there was something about the way he was looking at you. His eyes held encouragement with his usual abrasiveness, a combination you were yet to find in its equal. The hue of amber decorated his honey-irises with the soft swell of the uncharted and unfamiliar. Disarmed yourself by the emergence of new emotions, your body moved against your will and pressed through the window of crossed-blades.

You sprung forward, your lips immediately finding purchase against his whiskered cheek. This small act of pure instinct stunned Mihawk in his stance, his fingers loosening around the hilt of his blade and softening against your sword. 

Considering the hastiness of your own actions, you withdrew as quickly as your lips found his cheek. Your own cheeks flooded with warmth, your lips tingling with the lingering glow of the kiss, as you slunk back in your stance. After a few rapid blinks, Mihawk thrust his blade against your own, easily circling his wrist to rid your grasp over the hilt of your sword and dropping it to the ground.

“I-I’m sorry, I just-,” you began, halted by Mihawk casting his own blade down beside yours and lunging forward. He closed the distance, his hands grasping at your hips and drawing your body flush against his own. Pelvises touching, lips within distance, he circled his chin as a snake would mesmerize their unwitting and unsuspecting prey. 

“-If you’re going to disarm me with something as bold as a kiss,” Mihawk purred down at you, his gaze holding you hostage under its sultry hypnotism, “Then at least do it properly, for both our sakes.” 

“For both our-?” your words halted in your throat as your lips became eclipsed under the soft touch of Dracule Mihawk’s lips against your own. Your eyes widened, his lips opening and molding against yours to find a kiss as deep enough - as passionate enough - to grant you the insight to all of his pent up emotions. 

Brows furrowed and hands roaming, he cradled your form against himself, succumbing to the feeling of bliss against your lips as each moment flooded into the next. Finally allowing himself the luxury of opening himself up to this genre of touch, he would never let you go. You were his, and he was yours. 

Crocodile

“I have set out three towels, lotions and soaps, alongside an assortment of your usual clothes should you desire them over your current ensemble,” you nodded, gesturing to the broad chest, arms and legs of the once respectable Sir Crocodile. 

His hair was greasy, his eyes were sunken, and his shoulders carried a foreign weight you had not expected to find anchoring your former boss to the floor. As Sir Crocodile’s personal assistant, you were privy to witnessing every state he found himself in. All aside from this one. 

He was defeated. His spirit was broken alongside the reflective gold of his left hook. The object was littered in scratches and scuff marks, his body fairing not so different under the longevity he served in Impel Down. His eyes followed your gesture, glaring at the assortment of clothes atop the vanity cabinet before floating his eyes up to meet with his reflection within the broad mirror. 

Although he was yet to utter a single word to you, his silence depicted the raw emotions swelling within the heart, spirit and soul of Sir Crocodile. 

He was not who he once was. 

A man broken, clawing and desperate to be freed from the confines of a torturous prison - to battle and grind through the smog of battle to once again be shepherded into your awaiting embrace. His employee, his confidant, his friend - his love. A love he was yet to express due to the nature of your occupation.

He focussed on his sinking eyes, not recognising the figure glancing back at him. His body was marked with the white and black stripes of imprisonment, his mind laying heavily on the way his body was weakened under the sea stone walls, floors and shackles. He couldn’t find his former self amongst the remains of the man he saw in the silvery reflection. Each crease of his crows feet, each silvered hair on his head, each purple circle beneath his eye was a stranger glaring back at him.

“If I may, Sir,” you began, stepping forward and hovering your hands over his shoulders in the reflection. Deciding against your better judgment, you placed your hands firmly upon his shoulders, soothing over the flesh with your thumbs. You felt him sigh into your touch, but not conform, nor fully embrace, your affectionate touch.

“You are strong,” you uttered into his ear, watching his eyes for any indication of discomfort or apprehension. Finding none in its wake, you continued uttering assurances while you caressed his flesh. He sighed into your touch, leaning into each ministration your hands provided him above his prison uniform. 

“You have carved your destiny out by tooth and nail, Sir,” you assured him, paying attention to the scruff of his neck: circling your hands to relieve the stress and tension from his rapidly troubled mind, “You are the man you have always been, Sir Crocodile.”

“And who am I, Rouhi?” he whispered through his exhale, lulling his head back to lean into your palms. His eyes were shut, his forehead plagued by the trials he endured at the violent hands of the marines.

You couldn’t help yourself, your heartstrings tugging and pulling you down to press your lips against his cheek. The silvery scar cutting his eyes away from his nose,jaw and lips feeling rough beneath your lips. You allowed yourself a moment to hold him beneath your lips, feeling the tension rapidly leave him the longer you pressed this affectionate expression against his skin.

“You are Sir Crocodile,” you whispered after tearing your lips away from his cheek, “You are an influential threat that can have the world fall to their knees under your power.” Glancing into his eyes, you saw the world within their purple hue. His eyes swelled beneath their heavy torment, searching your own for more than your words had spoken.

“Is that all I am?” he whispered, his heart weighing heavy in his chest as he looked up at you, “Am I nothing more?” 

“You are everything to me, Sir,” you confessed, your heart feeling lighter while the adrenaline pumped to flush your cheeks with a darkening heat, “You can take from that confession what you truly desire to make from it. For now: your clothes have been pressed, your towels have been fluffed, and your home has been made ready to receive you-.”

Lips found yours, his affectionate and apprehensive touch hungrily calling for you with each passing moment. He held his lips against you as if it was the only tether holding his form to this earth, his anchor within the harbor of an unknown land of unrestrained affection. Right hand lacing into your hair, his whimpered groan departed his lips and cried lowly into your own. 

He was anew. The broken man he once was no longer found purchase within his chest. Whichever destiny he carved for himself, he would have you by his side to hold him accountable and support him in claiming his fate.

Shanks

The air was light, the jovial melodies thrust into the air at the hands of skilled minstrels. You had been dancing all night with your crew, the momentum finally catching up with you as you all found your seats for a momentary reprieve. 

A laugh fled your throat as you twirled your body once more as the music decrecendoed. Applauding the talent produced at the hands and lips of the musicians, you turned to face your crew: their bodies claiming each of the empty surfaces deemed appropriate for the body to recline against. No stool, chair, sofa nor benchtop remained unoccupied as the crew found their reprieve from lengthy dancing. 

“Why don’t you sit on my lap, love?” your captain chuckled at you, prompting a rise in laughter among the remainder of the crew, including yourself. “I’m far more comfortable than the chairs around here, anyway.”

“How considerate of you, Captain,” you feigned your appreciation, holding your hand to your heart and drawing out each intentional step towards his lap, “Will you wrap your arms-... -pardon, sir. Arm around me as I take my rightful place atop your mighty throne?”

Always playful and light were the interactions you had with your captain. No matter the years that passed in your longevity in servitude aboard the Red-Force, the playful rapport between Shanks and yourself was something ever present. 

“I will put my arm wherever you like, love,” he chuckled, his hazelnut eyes beckoning you in as you drew yourself ever closer, “I’ll keep you safe, so long as you feed me my ale and tell me I’m pretty.”

“So pretty, sir,” you laughed down at him, sinking atop his knee while caressing your hand over his cheek, “The prettiest man that ever did live.” As you cooed into his face, you leant down and pressed a lengthy and extravagant kiss atop his cheek, feigning enthusiasm with a vocal moan while smiling. 

The crew burst into a large, communal laugh that resonated within the chest of your captain. The teetered chuckles died down as the men found their drinks, your hand clasping around the hilt of Shanks’ ale and elevating it to his lips. 

His eyes never left you for a single moment.

Feeling small beneath his gaze, you placed his tankard down against the table and turned to face him with your brows knit into a gruff frown.

“What, Captain?” you asked him, the anxiety elevating in your chest for each moment that continued to pass between you.

“You missed, love,” he chuckled darkly. You were puzzled, searching for a moment in your servitude that you ever missed a single target - falling short in your memories. Before you had an opportunity to ask him a follow up question, you were silenced by Shanks’ right index finger raking along your jaw and collecting your chin within the hooked digit. 

“If you’re going to kiss me,” his smirk carried his dangerously playful tone, “Make sure you hit the right target.” He allowed himself to dwell in that moment of teasing, feeling you slink back atop his lap while his eyes held nothing but unbridled affirmation within their hue.

“Now give us a proper kiss, love,” he uttered before dragging your head towards him, his lips meeting your own. The room uproared into a momentary chaos: cheers, hollers and whistles rose amongst the crew the longer you held your lips against Shanks’. He chuckled against your lips, turning his head and humming against your opening mouth.

“There ‘ya go,” Shanks laughed after pulling away, “Lead with that next time, love. Makes it all less confusing for the lot of us.” 

But you were left more confused than the moment you kissed his cheek. Did he like you? Did he want more? Did you want more? You would need to discuss this when the both of you find yourselves in an air of sobriety, that was for certain. 

Beckman

The storm scattered your face with a flurry of ice-splinters of frozen rain.The Red-Force was stampeding throughout the waves to find refuge in the eye of the storm, your task was to release the sails to have the natural wind pull you toward the calming center of the flurry. 

On the last knot set to release the canvas, the sail snagged on the rope against the top-mast: prompting you to sprint towards the ropes to clamber up amongst the havoc. Your feet caught in the ropes, your heart springing to your throat as you readjusted yourself and stabilized your body within your climb. 

“Careful up there!” the barked call of the first mate of the Red-Haired crew called to you over the wild and unruly wind. You could barely make out his words, let alone formulate an answer over the swell of rainfall. 

Anchoring yourself amongst the ropes, you began desperately tugging at the knot to loosen. Your eyes became misted by the rapid downpour of water, your hands and fingers desperately clawing at the joint fibers of the rope to loosen. As you finally released the last loop of rope amongst the canvas, your feet slipped and your fingers barely brushed with the ropes to hold yourself steady before you began to fall. 

The air was cool, the clouds above shepherded you into the lull of calm before you deduced your body would meet firmly against the deck and break your neck on impact. There was no way you would survive such a drop: no Devil-Fruit abilities to caress your fall, nor Haki present to catch you on impact. 

Little did you know, the moment Benn Beckman barked his orders: he ensured his body was intentionally beneath yours to collect you in his arms should you fall. Although first mate to captain Shanks of the Red-Hair pirates, you were special to him. He needed to ensure your safety, regardless of his own orders to remain at his post. 

As you fell through the air and readied your soul to flee from your body to welcome death with a warm embrace, the only embrace you felt was a warm chest, two steady and firm arms, and an angry reprimand falling from the lips of the gray-haired first mate.

“I told you to be careful!” he barked at you, his eyes wild and frantic as his brow deepened in a low frown. Your breath hitched in your throat, watching as his passionate scolding ignited behind his eyes. “You need to be careful, to be wise. I don’t care what Shanks told you to do, nor how stupid a command it is. You need to be more careful. Hitch a rope around your belt or somethin’, or between each loop to stop you from falling. I can’t lose you to something so stupid as a storm.” 

You could barely comprehend his words, each syllable sounding heavenly against your ears as you appreciated each breath you were granted. You expected to die there, to fall from the ropes and have your neck snap upon impact against the deck - littering your skin with splinters from the wood and choirs serenading you into the life thereafter. In its stead, you were met with a grumpy bark and a cool reprimand that had your heart swelling and eyes misting with the rise of emotions.

Without thinking, you lunged forwards in his arms, your lips making contact against his stubbled cheek. You whimpered against his flesh, arms hooking over his neck and brows upturning in appreciation for his care for you. Your emotions spilled over: thanking whichever deity that was watching over you for the opportunity to live to not only serve this crew, but to feel the touch of Benn Beckman beneath your lips while your body remained chaperoned and cradled within his broad arms. 

At a small sob escaping from your lips, Beckman’s heart softened. He cradled you against himself further, huffing out a small laugh and allowing you to remain in his arms a moment longer. He had desired this touch from you for some time, but refused to act on it due to your proximity and place amongst the crew should the relationship sour. 

“A-Alright, Darlin’. Easy now,” he chuckled, feeling the small quake in your shoulders at the adjustment of your near demise, “Don’t let me get a big head.” 

“You just saved my life, Benn Beckman,” you reiterated, tearing yourself away from him to stare up into his silvery eyes, “A kiss on the cheek is hardly a just reward for such a feat.” Holding his eyes against yours, the rain began to settle as the clouds departed in the eye of the storm. The sun's rays flittered down and cascaded over your bodies, the storm finally finding solace and breaking its tyrannical attack against the Red-Force.

After the storm settled, the soothing swell of waves held you in a momentary calm as your head reclined against Benn Beckman’s broad shoulder. Sitting on the damp deck, with a plush blanket wrapped around your shoulders, Beckman’s lips found your forehead as your eyes grew heavy with want and soothed within the proximity against your valiant savior.  

You could not stop staring at him: this burly man with the grumpy twinkle in his eye. You would offer him the world should he ask it of you, grant him every desire his heart would swell for. You had no idea that the desire itself was you until he made that fact abundantly clear upon your wake in the morning. 

[sugarcoatedstarkey]

being in a secret relationship with rudy and having to limit your scratching during sex so he can be shirtless for scenes, once he's done filming ready and him go at hard but the following morning rudy gets called in for a retake and shit hits the fan

hush hush

Pairing- Rudy pankow x fem!reader

Summary - above ^

Warnings- scratching, biting, sexual intercourse, fingering, hand job. 18+ content

A/n- apologies for any grammar or mistakes, haven’t written in over 6-8 months. Please leave feedback 💗

“I’m done” Rudy states, your heart dropping to the pit of your stomach. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said it like that" He stutters the second he sees the colour drain from your skin. "I meant filming is done”.

You let out a loud exhale and whacked his arm with the back of your hand. “Jesus, way to give a girl a heart attack”. He let out a chuckle and his warm breath tickled the skin on your neck, his grabby hands pulling your body as close to him as humanly possible.

“I have waited a long 6 months to feel your nails on my skin, I am going to devour this body of yours” He purred, enveloping your lips with his.

There was no fight for dominance this time, your tongue submitting to his in a matter of seconds. His large hands gripping the mound of flesh on your backside, urging you to jump up onto the desk behind you.

“Right here?” you moaned, letting your head fall back to grant him more access to your neck. His teeth nibbling at your skin whilst leaving behind small purple bruising. He hummed against your neck; words lost in the back of his throat as he his taste buds went into overdrive from the taste of your sweet flesh.  

You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him closer to you, the buckle of his belt sending shivers down your spine.   

Your relationship was a secret, the two of you choosing to keep things hush hush until he had finished filming and you could both have a moment to yourself to discuss what you wanted from each other.

It was nice the way it was, you could spend all weekend in bed and gaze into each other’s eyes without the prying from your friends and family. He had gotten really close with his obx crew; you knew he wanted to introduce you to everyone as his ‘girlfriend’.

“Hey, get your head back into the game. Did you not hear me? I am done filming, no more being cautious.” He growled, gripping your jaw tightly. His eyes had darkened with lust, his body warm under the skin of your thighs.

“Take your shirt off” You ordered, he had to always wear a shirt when you made love. You were prone to scaring his gorgeous skin under the scratching of your claws. "It's me who is doing the devouring".

His shirt was across the room in seconds, his hands immediately tugging at the suddenly suffocating material of your dress. Helping him to yank it off your body and onto the floor. His eyes drinking in the curves and creases of your flawed body.

Your lips found their rightful place on the curve of his neck, teeth digging into the soft flesh. You could taste the salt from his damp skin, his fingers reaching under the band of your knickers until he could feel the warm wet juices that drenched the black silk. “Fuck” he groaned, the heat from his breath hitting the bare skin of your breasts.

Your nipples hardened under his gaze and the groans of pleasure caused your hips to buck towards his fingers that touched your pussy oh so delicately. “Please” you whined, your body buzzed with excitement and lust. He pressed his digits against your sensitive nub, you let out a shriek of excitement and your nails dig into the skin of his back. “That’s it baby girl” he urged, fingers sliding through your wet folds until he was so deep inside of you that you shouted incoherent words.

It didn’t take him long, he had you a bubbling mess within minutes of his fingers arching and stroking the inside of your pussy. Your nails leaving sharp red marks down this back.

Your fingers laced around his cock that pressed harshly against the confinements of his jeans. A shudder running through his body as you tugged him free, pre cum staining his boxers. “That looks uncomfortable, let me help” you whispered, his lips pressing against yours as you moved your hand up and down his shaft.

Both his hands coming down onto the table to hold himself steady, his lips never leaving yours as you tugged and rubbed. The head of his penis reddening as he came close to the end, but instead of him letting you finish him off. He pulled your hand away and griped the small of your back.

Pulling you harshly against him until the tip of his penis sat directly at your soaking entrance, he grabbed your legs and brought heels of your feet to the edge of the table. His eyes taking in the sight of you naked and spread in front of him, he reached into your small purse that sat beside you and grabbed a condom.

You watched intently as he pulled it over his cock, his eyes landing on you as he finished. “Fuck me Rudy” you begged, he pushed himself into you without a second thought.

The sounds of your moans filled the small room, his cock entering you with a slow lazy thrust at first. Your fingers racking through his hair, lips pressed firmly against his and tongues caressing one another. He began to speed up as your nails danced against his back once again, his arm coming around to hold you against him as he pounded into you.

You were both a sweaty mess, your hair sticking to the back of your neck as he nibbled on your collar bone. The feeling of his tip hitting your g spot over and over again had your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

His thumb rubbing lazy circles against your clit. “Oh yeah, oh Rudy, I think- I- think I’m gonna cum” you stuttered, wrapping your arms around his neck and he squeezed you against him tighter. Your breasts pressed firmly against his chest.

The sound of your ass cheeks hitting the desk and the sloppy sounds of his cock moving in and out of your pussy tipped you over the edge. “Shit! I- shit RUDY!” You yelped, black and white spots blur your vision, and your body shook with pleasure.

Your heart racing and sweat dripping down your forehead. “Yeah baby, scream my name. I’m coming, fuck- yeah” he groaned, he too reaching his climax as he clung to you for dear life.

You could feel him empty himself inside the condom, his cock twitching against your swollen walls. The both of you never let go of one another until the vision was clear and both your hearts calmed to a steady pace.

“Jesus, Rudy. I fucked your back” you gasped; the deep red lines decorated his back. He shrugged gripping your chin between his fingers. “No more filming baby, I want you to do that to me every night” he laughed, your lips once against pressed to each other.

---

“Wait, what do you mean?” The morning groggy voice of Rudy awoke you from your slumber. You searched around the room but couldn’t see your boyfriend, pulling the covers away from your body you began to stand.

“Fuck!”

The door opened and he stood in the entrance, he was dressed in sweats and a white shirt. Annoyance written all over his features. “What happened?” You question, making your way over the room and wrapping your arms around his waist.

“I’ve just been called for a retake” he groans into your hair. You exhale and give his collarbone a kiss. “It’s alright, I’ll be here when you’re done. I’m sure it’ll only be a few hours”.

What you had thought would be a few hours turned into several hours because it turned out to be a beach scene. The second he took his shirt off without even thinking and the gasps coming from his cast mates, he knew he had ruined the secret relationship.

“Damn Rudy, who did this to you” shouted Chase, both he and Maddi rushing over to inspect the damage you had left not even 24 hours earlier.

“Shit, I forgot about those” Rudy groaned, he turned to look into the mirror and the lines where still as red and deep as the night before. “Well, the retake scene is going to have to be a full reshoot” the director stated.

Rudy could see the annoyance written on his face, the snippy tone coming from him was not good. “Can’t I just wear a shirt for this scene, and we edit something into the other part of the scene? I’m sorry man, you said it was all done” Rudy apologises, reaching to the pull the shirt back over him.

“Hold up. I wanna take a better look! I also wanna know who’s this freaky lady friend of yours” Drew shouted, rushing from his seat across the room. Everyone began to close in on him, taking in the art you had left behind.

“It’s nothing, let’s not talk about it! We have a scene to retake.” Rudy laughed, urging for the conversation to be over. He knew they had an idea on who it was, no other friend of his had been to set more then you had.

They kept nodding when Rudy would call you his best friend. But they all had that feeling, there was something going on. And this time they would get it out of you.

“I bet I know who it’s from” JD said, giving him a wink from across the room. Rudy looked away but a tinge of red began to appear on his cheeks.

“Aww your blushing! It’s Y/N, isn’t it?” Madi gushes, clapping her hands together like a high school girl. Rudy shakes his head and begins to walk away from the conversation. He wasn’t going to admit to it, not until he had spoken to you and warned you about what had happened.

“Knew it!” Shouted Chase, Rudy rushes to a quiet place and pulls his phone out. Pressing the icon of your photo in the call log. Not even 3 rings later your voices echoes through.

“They know”.

“Knew it!” Shouted Chase, Rudy rushes to a quiet place and pulls his phone out. Pressing the icon of your photo in the call log. Not even 3 rings later your voices echoes through.

“They know”.

[amethystfairy1]

Why does Tango wear a crop top? 🤔

Let's find out...

10 Years Ago 

Under-City Labs

“Little spark!” 

“What!? What!?” Tango about toppled from the step-ladder he was sitting on, in order to reach up and tinker with the guts of a massive sorting machine he’d designed for identifying resources from deliveries and then transporting them to the lower levels. 

He spun where he sat to swing his boots over the edge of the step-ladder and peered down. 

Doc was standing there with a supremely disappointed expression on his face. Tango immediately filed back through all of his doing within the past month trying to figure out what he’d messed up this time. 

The creeper mutant tapped one loafer a few times. 

Tango matched ruby red eyes with him, trying to keep any nervousness off his face.

“Y-Yeah? What can I do for ya, Director?”

“Do not call me that.”

“Doc. What can do for ya, Doc?”  

Doc’s natural eye narrowed.

“What are you wearing?”

Tango glanced down at his outfit. Currently he was wearing a redstone streaked old tee shirt he’d long since torn the sleeves off of. It was oversized, to be honest he might’ve stolen it off of Jimmy in high school, he didn’t really remember. His claws were on full display, caked with grime considering he put them use helping him work with the finer wiring.

Instead of using. Y’know. Pliers or something. 

“W-Work clothes? Why?”

“Those are not work clothes. Work clothes are gloves and long sleeves, Tango.” Doc replied with the tone of a mother hen, and the little blaze-born whined in the back of his throat.

“But it’s sooooo hot in here! I’m already on fire!” 

“So you are. That does not mean you cannot get burnt or cut working with these machines.”

“I’m careful…” Tango began but Doc raised his eyebrow at him with a firmly set jaw and folded his arms, augmentation over green skin. 

“…ish.” 

“Gloves and long sleeves.”

“But Doc! I also use these for working with wiring, it’s easier than pliers!” 

Tango made grabby hands down from the step ladder at Doc, clicking the sharpened tips of his claws together.

Doc’s augmented eye adjusted, red glow flickering. He tilted his head and heaved a ragged sigh, raking back longish dark brown hair with his metal hand and planting his other hand on his hip. 

“I can see that, and for small projects that is fine, but not when you’re working in mechanical here.” 

“But it’s so hot.”

“Then take breaks!” 

“I don’t wanna take breaks!”

“Tango!” Doc’s tone dropped one octave from his already deep voice, and Tango flinched. His flares momentarily went out completely before sputtering to life again. He’d been practically raised by this man, and now that he’d started at the labs earlier this year he’d been trying to learn the balancing act of their workplace dynamic.

Which, as it turned out, wasn’t all that different from their dynamic anywhere else. Doc was allergic to authority and despised formality, for the labs was more like a big conglomeration of the under-city’s best and brightest just kind of…figuring things out. There was a loose hierarchical structure, but that was more just so the assignment of workflow would be more comprehensible and less completely and utter chaos. 

So Tango huffed and spun back toward the machine he was tinkering with, shoving his hands up into the wiring, tongue poking out and worrying between his sharp teeth as he shouted back in reply.

“Fine, fine, fine, I hear ya! Gloves and long sleeves from tomorrow on out, you got it!”

The Next Day.

“Tango!”  

Tango fumbled the comparator he was holding and dropped it to the ground with a clatter he jumped so hard when that booming voice shouted over his workshop area within the mechanical branch of the labs. 

“Why have you gotta scare me like that!?” The blaze-born demanded as he turned to see Doc picking his way around the chaos of Tango’s workshop area. It wasn’t exactly organized, but it was organized enough for him, and sure, the last time Pearl had visited him during work hours she’d about had a conniption, but whatever. This was how he worked best. 

“What is that!?” Doc gestured at Tango pointedly. 

“What? You said gloves and long sleeves, so I’m wearing gloves and long sleeves!” Tango was barely able to hold back the mischievous grin that tried to clamber upon his face.

Doc looked him up and down twice.

“You’re kidding me.”

“Gloves and long sleeves. See?” Tango set the comparator he’d been carrying aside and then threw his arms out and made jazz hands. His flares crackles and his blaze-rods danced and twirled to mirror his amusement at Doc’s rather stunned expression.

Tango had traded the old cut-off tee for a tight, bright red cropped long sleeve that cut just beneath his pecs, leaving the entirety of his toned stomach exposed down to his belt, which held several tools as well as a carabiner clip for his gloves. His brown work gloves were new, Doc had gotten them for him as apart of his toolkit for starting work in the mechanical sector of the labs full-time after having helped out more and more since his mid-teens. They still felt a bit stiff, but Tango supposed they’d break in the more he wore them.

Doc planted his head into his hands and groaned. 

“Little spark, you’re going to drive me insane, aren’t you?”

“Pleased to be working with you too!” 

Tango saluted, then spun on his heel to return to his work, his tail coiling and twisting cheerfully behind him, and Doc rolled his eyes, but didn’t fight him anymore on it. 

...

And there you have it! That's why Tango wears a crop top! Because he's a little shit who subscribes to the idea of malicious compliance!

This was a bit short for my taste to post on A03 with the entire series proper, but I felt like just writing it anyway, and I figured would be fun to have them over here! I'll be tagging little stuff like this as 'ttsbc ficlets' and if you have any other small seeming innocuous questions about TTSBC or Traveling Thieves that you think would be fun to see answered in this format, please do send me an ask! I think it'll be fun and as some of y'all who have followed me for awhile may know, I struggle with writing short, so this seems like it'll be good practice!

Hope you liked it! 💖

[themindofachronicdaydreamer]

The Cat Distribution System

fluffy fluff fluff plot: you find a stray kitten and bring it home to Gojo content: alludes to smut, cats, mentions of violence (curses), established relationship, reader referred to as girlfriend word count: 3.1k satoru gojo x reader note: thank you for readingggg :) this is my first so be patient with me. it is purely self indulgent & I am still learning and trying to improve! not proofread super thoroughly so sorry for mistakes! love you <3

Of anything in the world, Gojo was certain he was cats were your favorite. 

This might be able to explain why you start smiling at your phone every time there’s a cat on it. 

This may explain your constant stream of texts to him of pictures of the most adorable cats from the internet or funny TikToks starring kittens being absolutely hilarious. 

It could explain why you constantly dragged him to places that have cats, whether it be a pet shelter or a newly popular cat cafe in the area. 

This might explain why you absolutely broke down when seeing a stray little kitten crying in an alleyway of Tokyo. 

It may explain how, in the middle of a mission, you dropped everything to go to the nearest convenience store, bought a bulk-sized pack of churu sticks to feed the lonesome kitten, and gave it all the pets it ever wanted. 

That also may explain why you just arrived back home earlier than expected - but with a cat. 

Walking into the door of yours and Gojo’s shared apartment, you shout, “I’m home!”

Gojo, who is sitting on the couch watching an old movie while eating a bag of gummy worms, is confused. It was his day off and he had been bored all day, not having you or anyone else available to bother relentlessly for his own entertainment. He had gone for a walk, tried a new restaurant, and came back home just as bored and with many more sweets. He could always sense your specific cursed energy from afar, so he knew you were nearing him before you even reached the door. While he’s in no way complaining about having more time with you, he’s still curious as to what cut the mission short. Before he could vocalize his question, you continue on. 

“Satoru! Where are you? You’ll never guess what happened. You’re a dad now!” You excitedly wonder aloud, knowing he’s home and that will catch his attention if you hadn’t already. 

Gojo is immediately confused. His mind runs a through a long list of possibilities to solve what riddle you just set in front of him. A dad? Yeah, you two may practice creating kids every now and then, but he was certain you weren’t pregnant the past nine whole months. He would know that, right? Wouldn’t it be noticeable? Not in a bad way, just in the nature of growing a human in you and the way your body would adjust to that. He’s sure you would tell him you were pregnant though, or that he would figure it out before eventual labor. Well, he knows you would tell him. You definitely would. You’ve talked about that before. So what isn’t he getting here?

“Sweetheart?” Gojo calls for you while quickly standing up and making his way toward the hallway at the entrance. He stops not too far from the couch when he hears a little squeak. 

Was that… a meow?

He doesn’t have time to think through the noise as you exit the hall and turn the corner toward him. A tiny fur ball is cradled in your arms, eyes wide in curiosity of its new surroundings. Immediately, any question in Gojo's mind was answered.

“Meet Suki!” Your face lights up as you move your arms toward your boyfriend, displaying the cat the best you can. Gojo smiles widely as he looks at your new little bundle of joy - a likely malnourished tiny kitten with a goopy right eye, dirty fur, and potentially (probably) fleas. Immediately he starts fawning over it. 

“Awwwwwwwwwe!“ Gojo said coos as he tilts his head and forms grabby hands reaching toward you and the kitten. With the sudden movement, the claws of the kitten dig into your skin a bit out of fear. She looks up at you, pupils dilated, seemingly asking for help. 

“Saturo, be slow and gentle with her, please! She’s a little nervous still,” you explain to him. The kitten was found alone and while she was not feral, it was obvious she had not had much interaction with people. Plus, when you stumbled on her, you were mid-fight. While the chances of her being able to see the curses are quite low, it felt like she could sense the tension in the surrounding atmosphere as she was cowering behind a dumpster, only coming out when she smelled the delicious churu you had in your hand.

“I’m sorry, baby. She’s just so cute!” Gojo exclaims, causing you to giggle and nod your head in agreement.

Gojo slowly and ever-so carefully reaches his hand toward Suki to allow the cat to sniff him. She recoils a bit, untrusting of the stranger. After thinking about it for a second, Suki sniffs Gojo’s hand, looking quizzically at his snowy white hair. She then turns and snuggles back into you and away from Gojo. He freezes in his position, mouth slightly agape due to the rejection. A small huh? escapes him. 

“I think she’s exhausted. She had a long day. Maybe she’ll be more comfortable after a nap,” you explain after seeing Gojo develop a pout from the rejection. You figured she was still sensitive to new people and was already tired, so you didn’t want to push her more than you already had when trying to feed her earlier. “I bought some stuff at a convenience store and stuffed it in my purse to take care of her before taking her to the vet tomorrow, so I’m gonna go run her a bath.” 

“Wait, wait!" Satoru exclaimed. He was already beginning to miss your attention being solely on him, so he prolonged talking to you and you leaving him to bathe the cat. "Let me guess - you were fighting, saw her, quickly ended the fight because you were only entertaining them to cure your boredom as the typical sorcerer does, helped her, and now you’re here?” Gojo guesses, causing you to gasp and shake your head no.

“No! That is absolutely not what happened. I saw her, immediately exorcized the curses, got her some food, and then I called Nanami to take over for me because of a ‘family emergency’,” you said while using finger quotes. You rolled your eyes in feigned annoyance as you continued, exasperated, “I wasn’t done with my mission, but I wouldn’t just leave it unfinished, Satoru! What kind of sorcerer do you think I am?” 

“Sorry, princess,” Satoru responds as he shakes his head with a chuckle. He watches as you lovingly look at the creature in your arms, mesmerized by the shape of your jaw and the soft smile on your lips. He gives your hair a quick tousle before continuing, “You’re m’favorite sorcerer. The best one out there. Other than me, of course.”

You look up at him, a faint blush spreading across your features. You gave him a disapproving look for his last comment, but the hue of your cheeks gave away the fact that you still get flustered when he compliments you. You gently push on the tips of your toes, lifting yourself up enough to lean toward your boyfriend. After a chaste kiss on his cheek, you hear a meow from your arms. Looking at the kitten, she repeats the same little sound. 

“What, you jealous?” Satoru teases the animal. “You want her attention? Can’t stand to spare a second for a kiss on my cheek?”

You let out a laugh as Suki gives Gojo what you would consider a dirty look. He picks up on it too, clicking his tongue at the kitten and again turning his attention to you. “Friendly, isn’t she?” he states, sticking his tongue out at Suki. 

“Right now, she's shy and nervous,” you answered, heading toward the guest bedroom in the apartment. You knew that at this rate if you did not leave now, you would never be giving her a bath. “I’m gonna use the guest bath.”

“Do you need help?” Gojo asked. He followed behind you, a puppy craving the attention of its owner.

“Actually, yeah. Look, I know it’s late and that this is a big ask, but I didn’t have the hands to get her more food and essentials. Can you go out for me and get some things? I’ll send you a list,” you give him pleading eyes you know never fail to make his knees weak and heart flutter. You wanted to grab these things before, but you could not bring yourself to leave the kitten alone for a second longer than she already had been for who knows how long. You were going to go later that night so as to not bother Satoru - but since he offered and you are a little tired, why not have him do it for you? A quick run to the pet store for some scratching boards, dry food, wet food, and other basics wouldn’t be the worst you’ve ever asked of him. 

“Yeah, honey, of course. Text me the list, yeah? I’ll get going now,” Satoru, your savior in flesh and bone, agrees as he flashes you a big, toothy smile, then moves to grab his keys.

“Thank you, Toru,” you say as you cuddle the kitten closer. 

Satoru smiles at the sight he knows he is going to grow to love; you looking at the kitten like she is your entire world, while he looks at you knowing you are his.

"Anything for you. I love you," Satoru says as he walks around to hug you from behind and not disturb Suki. He presses a kiss to your head, you melting into his touch.

"Alright, let me give her a bath! Stop stalling me," you say. Satoru releases you from his grasp. You turn to face him to see his face has a pout once again.

"Gimme a kiss before I go, please?" He says, then puckers his lips and leans forward.

"You're a dork," you say, but continue to lean in and kiss him. "But I love you too."

------

With Suki now bathed to the best of your ability and eating another churu stick while in a big fluffy blanket, you are beginning to wonder what is taking your boyfriend so long. The pet store is not a far walk and is an even closer drive, yet you finished the bath about an hour and a half ago.

Just on cue, you hear the front door open after a slight struggle. Suki's ears perk up, but she is too tired and invested in eating the churu that she does not even bother to glance in the direction.

You hear quick footsteps until Gojo appears from the hallway. With a big box under one arm and a couple tote bags full of things that you can't quite tell what they are, he stumbles into the kitchen. He quickly sets everything down, giving you a better sight of what all he has. You see the big box was a cat tree, and in the bags is a variety of canned food, wet food, treats, toys, tunnels, collars, more treats, multiple automatic food and water bowl sets, and a couple of outfits. This is why you never send Gojo on errands.

"Satoru, you bought way too much!" you say. You motion to the bags of stuff he put down as he walks toward you with an innocent smile on his face.

"I actually think I didn't buy enough. I figured you would want a say in some things though, so I held off. A little bit," the man in question responds. He then pulls out a little box of icing covered treats with sprinkles on them. "I even got her sweets!"

Suki - coincidentally - now decides to acknowledge her new father's presence, meowing at him from across the room in her blanket. Gojo looks over and coos as he walks over to her.

"Hi sweet girl, did you have a scary day? Do you want some delicious treats to celebrate you coming home today?" He opens the box toward the kitten, who stares at it, sniffing the aroma she finds so enticing. She then walks forward, rubs her head against the hand holding the box, and meows again. Gojo giggles as he takes the treat out of the container to help the cat.

Your heart feels like it is about to burst. Watching the two interact brings you so much joy, and with how welcoming Gojo has been ever since you spurred this on him, you could not be more excited. He takes his phone out of his pocket and takes a billion pictures of the new addition to the family.

"Tell me everything, baby. How'd you find her? How was the mission? I'm sure Nanami is pissed," Gojo says to you after he puts his phone away.

You had wanted a cat for a while, but it never seemed like the right time. With you and Gojo being jujutsu sorcerers, you had been worried about leaving a new cat alone for an extended period of time or not being able to come home to it. You had considered it once you and Gojo finally moved in, but life never seemed to give you a break, and here you are now.

Still, you did not yield even a single hesitation about leaving this kitten behind. The second you saw her, you were hers.

"Mission was easy, just annoying. Found her behind a dumpster in an alley. Nanami was only slightly irritated. I told him that it's just the cat distribution system, and that no one could deny fate," you shrug your shoulders.

"Oh yeah, like those videos you send me? Where cats just choose their new owner?" Gojo says, causing you to smile.

"You actually watch all of those?" You questioned.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" he says, appearing genuinely confused.

"Dunno, I just send them a lot. But yeah, you're right. The second I saw her, I had a feeling," you elaborated. "She was mine!"

Satoru thinks to the first time he saw you back at Jujutsu High on the first day there. He remembers every detail: how you did your hair that day (two braids with black bows at the ends of them), who you were with (Shoko, a childhood best friend of yours), the way you laughed (a cute little laugh, throwing your head back at Shoko's joke). He remembers time moving so slowly, he felt like he was staring at you for hours. Suguru Geto, his new friend, stared at Gojo's frozen features and sighed, waving Shoko, another new friend, over.

Gojo can recall clear as day how your hair framed your face, your eyes stared into his icey ones hidden by black shades, and how you introduced yourself to him.

He knew then that you were different. He knew you were going to be in his life for a while. You were his, and he was yours. He just had a feeling.

Who knew that one day comparing his love for you to your love for your new kitten you found, mid-fight and in a dark, Tokyo alley?

He just can't contain his giddiness toward you anymore. You were so cute, so soft, and so sweet. He wanted to dote on you and shower you in all of the love he could.

"God, baby. You are the cutest thing I have ever seen!" He exclaims as he pinches your cheeks.

"Stop, Toru," you wave him off. "I thought we were talking about Suki?"

"You were. You just distract me," he says, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek. He leaned in and placed a kiss on your forehead. "How could you not when you look so adorable?"

A little meow echoes throughout the room.

"Do not flirt with me in front of our child! She is clearly uncomfortable," You jokingly tease your beloved boyfriend.

Gojo glares at Suki, who is still eating her treats, content with her new life of luxury.

"Ugh. Way to cockblock, Suki," Saturo groans as he flashes the innocent kitten the finger

"First of many," You add, smiling. You swat at his outstretched hand, grabbing it and pulling it into you. You smile up at him, pulling his blindfold up so you can see his eyes, and giving him a loving kiss. "I love you, Toru."

"I love you more, cutie."

As much as you cats are your favorite of anything in the world, you know it is impossible to love anything more than you love Satoru Gojo. As you stare into his eyes, you know he knows that too.

Cats are a very near second place, though.

Bonus

Your phone rings with a familiar ringtone. You look down to see Megumi's contact staring back at you and press answer, lifting the phone to your ear.

Before you could even say hello, you hear, "Now why the hell did you get a cat?"

"Hello to you, too, Megumi. My day has been great, thanks!" You tease. "Yeah, yeah. Now why?"

"How do you even know? I was gonna tell you next time I saw you," you ponder, already having an idea of the answer to your question.

"Gojo posted it everywhere already. Every story. Every single one," Megumi confirmed your suspicions. "Answer my question, please? I am not the most fond of those things."

"It's the cat distribution system," Megumi hears another voice in the background say.

"The what?"

Suddenly, the phone is lifted from your hands, your boyfriend having replaced you in speaking to Megumi. "Hey, Gumi!"

"Gojo? I said not to call me that," Megumi groans, although you know he doesn't really mind the nickname.

"The cat distribution system is a phenomenon where stray cats choose a random owner, and the new owner must take care of the cat because simply, the cat decides it will!" Gojo explains. "Isn't that cool? My Suki-bear was all alone and my lovely girlfriend here brought her to the safety of our humble abode."

Megumi is silent for a moment before huffing, "There is no way you actually believe that."

A mischievous smirk appears on Gojo's face as he says "Megumi, are you afraid of cats?"

Megumi began stuttering nonstop as he said, "N-No, I... I just... I don't like them. Um. I... I'm allergic?" Gojo laughs at this response, causing Megumi to scoff. "Whatever."

The line goes silent, and Gojo hands you the phone. He looks at your irritated expression with an unwavering smile.

Before you could say anything, a little meow is heard, causing Gojo to laugh before saying, "Right, Suki? What a loser! Who wouldn't love you?"

-----

the ending isnt my fave but i hope you enjoyeeddddd thank you for reading all this way ilyyyyyy

[hyperiondickrider]

Baby Bunny~

(Chapter 3)

Vox x Reader; Valentino x Reader; Alastor x Reader; maybe Lucifer x Reader

After your untimely death, Mr Vox was kind enough to take you in and give you a job as his assistant. However, it appears that you’ve caught the eyes of few other demons, who are certainly not afraid of a little competition…

It was late when Vox got home. Work had him swamped, with interviews to film, and scripts to review, and he had texted you not to wait up.

So imagine his surprise when he walks into your shared studio, to find you curled up on the couch, whimpering out of discomfort.

Your ears perked up at the sound of the door handle turning, the door creaking open to let in the artificial light of the corridor.

“M-Mr Vox..?”

He simply couldn’t resist cooing at the sight of you, your teary eyes hopeful now that he had finally arrived, a small puddle soaking the velvet of the couch underneath where you lay, a testament to your touching of yourself.

“Oh, dollface, I told you not to wait up, bunny. Y’know how late it is?” He teased you lightly.

You could only respond with a whine, making grabby hands at his tall figure, beckoning him towards you, to give you the attention you so desperately craved.

“Poor baby, are your fingers too small to satisfy you properly? You must’ve been suffering all day; I’ve been meaning to tell Val not to get you so worked up if he’s not gonna help you out after. C’mere, babydoll.”

He scooped you up from your place on the couch, carrying you bridal style to his bedroom, the rumbling vibration of his chest as he hummed providing a sense of comfort as you clung onto him desperately.

With a gentle push of his hips he shut the door behind you two, laying you gently on the bed, caressing your face and petting your hair, until he could control himself no longer, muffling your small whimpers and whines as he licked your lips, enjoying their softness before his tongue forced its way into your mouth.

He drove his leg between your thighs, holding your wrists above your head with one hand, the other massaging your ears in your favourite way, rubbing them between his fingers and thumb. He swallows up your mewls and whines, grinning against your lips when you bucked your hips against his thigh, aching for stimulation.

He drew back just to get a better look at you, stopping his ministrations entirely, causing you to whimper and tear up.

Satan, you looked pathetic already.

After what seemed like an eternity, he pulled your back against his chest, leaning against his headboard. Pressing hot kisses down your neck, one of his hands slithered down your body, finding refuge between your legs. He smirked, feeling how sopping wet your flimsy panties were, a cute pink pair with bows as well. He pulled the pair to the side, circling a clawed finger around your entrance, gathering up your wetness before moving it up to apply gentle pressure to your puffy clit, flicking it softly.

“M-Mr Vox, hah~, p-please, I-i need you..” Already you were struggling to form coherent sentences.

“You okay there, babydoll? You’re bein awfully needy today, princess.” He plunged two finger into your core, catching you off guard. With his fingers deep inside you in a bowling ball grip, he finally began curling his finger, squeezing that spongy spot deep in your walls, that you yourself could never quite reach. You let out a deep moan at this, throwing your head back in pleasure, your legs shaking as his pace increased.

His own strong legs kept your thighs open, as your reflexes tried to shut them from the stimulation.

“You gonna cum, babydoll? C’mon, s’ok, you can cum for me.”

“T-Thank you, sir, hah~..”

He increased his pace once again, curling his finger harshly, scraping your gummy walls with delicious pressure. His thumb came down to rub tight circles into your clit, finally pushing you over the edge.

“C-cumming, s-sir!”

With a final yelp and whimper, you finally come, walls pulsating and clenching around his thick fingers, as he pinched your clit, prolonging your release. Presses soft kisses to your dazed face, he gently praises you for your compliance, whispering sweet nothings into your ears.

“Such a good girl for me, hm? Always listening to me, asking for permission to cum. Good job, dollface.” Your face flushed at the praise, growing wetter once again, combined with Vox’s rock hard boner pressing against your ass.

Vox flips you onto your stomach, your ass up with your back arched, as he quickly undid his slacks, leaving his dress shirt on, forearms exposed.

He spat on his hand, pumping his cock a few times before rubbing the swollen, red tip. Finally satisfied, he aligned it with your hole, dragging his tip up and down your cunt, collected your wetness and poking your clit. Your desperate whines were enough to convince him to continue, finally pushing in, hitting himself in your warm, wet pussy.

He set a harsh pace, his tip kissing your cervix with every thrust, stretching out your walls with a delicious pain, heavy balls slapping against your clit causing such pleasure it was almost painful.

“F-fuck, babydoll, ease up a little, you’re gonna milk me dry.” Vox tried to maintain his composure, his screen starting to glitch out at the intense stimulation, the lights in the room beginning to flicker.

“S-sir, feels so g-good, ah~, I-I’m close!” Your small hands gripped the sheets, as one of his hands reached forward to grab you by the ears, their sensitivity heightened by your arousal.

He tugged on your ears, forcing your back to arch even further, as he angled his hips to hit your sweet spot, abusing it until you were seeing stars. Your vision began to fade as you started seeing black spots, the coil inside your stomach ever tightening.

“Hah~ I-I’m gonna c-cum, Mr Vox!” With a final thrust into your sweet spot, you came around his cock, clenching down so hard his release followed shortly after, burying himself inside you as his screen buffered intensely.

“F-fuck, bunny.” He collapsed onto you, pulling out as a stream of cum flowed out of you, your shaky legs covered in a combination of his and your cream.

Pulling you close, he opted to pick you up and carry you to his bathtub, doubtful you could stand for a shower. He ran the tub, adding salts and bubbles since he knew you loved a bubble bath, and occasionally snapped his fingers in front of your face to make sure you remained conscious.

Finally, he scooped you up and placed the two of you in the bath together, leaning you up against his chest as he gently washed the two of you, seemingly enjoying the intimacy of it.

“You feelin better, bunny? M’sorry I wasn’t here to help you earlier. I’ll shoot a text to Val so he’ll stop bein so mean to ya.”

“Yeah, thank you, Mr Vox. I’m feelin better now. I’ll be sure to work extra hard tomorrow so you can see how grateful I am.” You smiled warmly up at him, your gaze meeting his own, as you embraced him in the warmth of the bathtub.

You really were too gentle, it’s a wonder why you’re in hell to begin with.

Tags: @enby-rising @whocaresimnothere @christineblood @sirenetheblogger @vash-yuu

[inkykeiji]

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, drugging, noncon, blood, messy rough sex (slapping + biting), hint of mikey at the end, fem!reader words: 650

i literally, genuinely cannot express how badly i want to get absolutely fucked up with bonten rindou + ran. like i am talking super sloppy fucked up, can barely fucking walk fucked up, slurring words in a single continuous stream only interrupted by little bubbles of giggles fucked up.  

it’s become a voracious, all-consuming, downright intoxicating need.

you need them chuckling softly as they hoist you up between the two of them and drag you out to their sleek, souped up mercedes, sharing devious looks over your drooping head, so heavy and full of whatever the hell they’ve stuffed down your throat and shoved up your nose and shot into your veins that your pretty little neck just can’t seem to hold it up. 

you need them shoving you in the backseat, a mess of limbs and sparkles, hem of your slutty little dress already bunched up around your hips and fraying stilettos, now ruined and bloody from being scraped against the concrete, slicing into their leather seats. 

you need them cooing and pouting and spitting in your face because you’re so fucking dumb, you’re so fucking cute, you’re going to be so much fucking fun, aren’t you? 

you need them fucking you raw for hours on end, until the sky turns from star-speckled onyx to strokes of lilac and corals, until their condo is smeared with the gold of the rising sun, as the world flips over then flops right side up again, more drugs tangling in your veins.

you need imprints of each of ran’s hands seared into your cheeks, all five fingers and both palms stinging and raised and etched into soft skin. you need all thirty-two of rindou’s teeth carved into the flesh of your ass, so deep they’ve left grotesque, purplish-grey gouges, so deep they’ve pierced through the skin and left the indents pooling with thick blood. 

you need them stuffing you full of so much cum that it’s drooling from the corners of your mouth and oozing from your abused little hole, dribbling all over your neck and collarbone and chest in stringy dollops infused with your saliva, slathered all over your inner thighs in fat strokes of cream. 

and then, when they’ve had their fun, when they’ve shattered you to bits and stained the shards with themselves, you need them to offer you to their boss, who takes a single look at you and considers just passing you off to his second-in-command, because christ she’s sloppy and you two really did a fucking number on her, who split her lip like that? 

still, mikey’s grateful the terror twins reincarnate will share their spoils with him—real generous of them, you know, they could’ve kept this little doll to themselves and, really, you gotta give her a go, she’s a lot sturdier than she looks, and we just shot her up with another two ounces, and she’s got the prettiest moans i ever heard, mikey, swear to god, cross my heart, and mikey reconsiders.

because then you’re opening your eyes, bleary and blissed out and shimmering so beautifully in the harsh white light of the warehouse, and you’re reaching out for him, cute little grabby hands that claw at nothing as melty murmurs seep from your lips, and oh, he thinks he gets it now. 

because then he’s jumping down from off his wooden crate and stalking toward you, rhythmic slaps of his flip-flops echoing throughout the dense space, and he’s taking your jaw between his thumb and his forefinger, squeezing hard enough to pucker your lips and elicit a sticky little squeal, and he’s leaning close, so close the stench of sugar stings your nose, mixed with something clean and brisk as his breath wafts across your face, and you wanna play with me, precious?

because precious things are meant to be used, after all, aren’t they?