#it's just annoying that it takes so long and is so confusing and overwhelming and my hands just don't always do what i want them to

[eliasmelody]

How about reader and some idv characters got a matching costumes?

Outfit Sync

Tag: Naib x gn!reader, Andrew x f!reader Warning: grammar & spelling

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

Sometimes, you find yourself genuinely baffled by how the manor manages to come up with so many costumes. The variety is overwhelming, some outfits look like they’ve been pulled straight out of another century, completely out of touch with the present. Others are so frilly or cutesy that you feel more like a child playing dress-up than someone preparing for a serious match.

Today is no exception. You eye the latest outfit handed to you by Nightingale with a mix of caution and curiosity. But to your surprise, it’s… actually quite nice. Elegant, even. It fits well, the fabric feels comfortable, and the design is far more flattering than the tattered clothes you’re usually stuck with.

You turn it over in your hands, running your fingers along the details, trying to guess what sort of theme it’s meant to represent. There's a quiet sophistication to it, almost like it was made with a story in mind. Whatever the inspiration, you find yourself liking it more than you'd care to admit.

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

Mercenary - Naib Subedar

Tch. Another day, another match, another godforsaken dump of a map to crawl through.

He sits with the same stony expression etched into his face, body angled slightly away from the group. His arms fold across his chest in that closed-off way he’s known for. Cold. Distant. Intentionally intimidating. That’s fine with him.

What’s not fine is watching the one person he actually relies on in matches, the one person who understands his hand signals and doesn't waste time emoting in corners, suddenly get up and leave the table. Without a word.

Great. Just great. Minus one competent teammate.

He scowls, trying to convince himself it’s fine. Maybe you just needed a break. Maybe you were tweaking your persona build. Game sense. Sure. That’s it.

Still… there’s a nagging unease in his gut. What if the manor replaces you again? It’s done that before, last-second switchouts that ruined all his tactical prep. He clicks his tongue in irritation, loud enough to startle a few of the chatting survivors nearby. He closes his eyes, trying to push it out of his mind.

Minutes pass.

The scrape of a chair being pulled across the floor breaks his focus. Finally, took it long enough.

He opens one eye, almost expecting to see a stranger.

But no, it’s still you. And…

What the hell?

You're wearing a new outfit. Not just any outfit, either, it matches his. The same palette, similar fabric, enough variation to stand on its own, but side-by-side? There’s no denying it. The manor paired you up.

Of course it did.

He stiffens slightly, but his expression stays neutral. No one needs to see his reaction. He watches you out of the corner of his eye as you settle into your seat, fidgeting, clearly nervous.

Did you… go back there just to change?

A strange feeling coils in his chest, equal parts confusion, flattery, and… something else he doesn’t want to name. You look… Striking

He forces his gaze back to the front, jaw tightening.

Damn it. Stupid manor.

He watches the way you fidget in your seat, clearly nervous. Did you really just run back there just to change into that? Part of him wants to laugh. Part of him feels… something else.

The outfit suits you.

It suits you too well.

His gaze drops against his will, taking in every little detail. The fit, the boots, the subtle matching details. His head betrays him with one intrusive thought after another.

He groans quietly, trying to shake the images out.

But his eyes wander again, just in time to meet yours.

You're watching him, not directly, but from the corner of your eye. Subtle. Hesitant. Like you're waiting for something. Approval? Feedback?

He should be annoyed. He wants to be. But instead, his mouth moves before his brain can stop it.

"You look good."

The words hang in the air. He blinks. Regret sets in. Naib nearly slaps himself.

What the hell was that?

Before he can backpedal, your response comes out in a flustered blur.

"Thank you, you look really handsome– I mean… you're not bad either…"

You shrink back in your chair, clearly dying inside.

Why must you act so damn cute?

Naib stares at you for a second longer than he means to, expression unreadable but thoughts absolutely screaming. Then he turns his head away with a quiet huff, slouching just slightly to hide the strange warmth crawling up his neck.

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

Grave Keeper - Andrew Kreiss

Same day. Same waiting room. Same quiet hum of voices he doesn’t belong to.

Andrew sits in his usual corner, fingers laced around his shovel’s handle. The weight is familiar. Comforting. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone. No one bothers him, and he prefers it that way. Keeps things simple. Keeps the thoughts quiet.

The door opens.

You step in, light-footed, the manor’s dim lighting catching just enough on your hair, your skin, the soft fabric of the outfit that looks… like his.

Matching.

His grip on the shovel tightens. Breath caught. His hood shields half his face, but not enough to hide how his eyes follow you, drawn, helpless, like a moth to a flame.

The same worn leather. Same dark accents. Same hint of mystery. But where it hangs on him like armor, on you it settles like divinity.

For a moment, he can’t look away.

You look like something beyond human. Ethereal. Like you just stepped out of a dream… or a prayer.

Angelic.

He feels a tightness in his chest, like something’s been lodged there, lodged there by you.

You glance around the table. Your eyes scan past the others and land on him.

Of course, you sit next to him.

He panics silently. Shoulders stiff. Head low. What is he supposed to do with this information? With the warmth creeping up his neck?

You shift in your seat beside him, tugging lightly at the edge of your glove. Fidgeting. Waiting.

His mouth moves before his brain catches up.

"…My goddess."

The words are no louder than a breath. A whisper. A reverent confession not meant for ears beyond his own.

But you hear it.

He feels it in how your movements still. The air shifts. Realization hits him like a shovel to the face.

Blood rushes to his ears. He shoves his face lower, burying his face into his hands. Maybe if he sinks low enough, you’ll forget he exists. Maybe the ground will swallow him whole.

You tilt your head, a slight questioning look crossing your face.

"…What was that?"

He freezes. His heart pounds. Please don’t make me explain.

"I-I mean my goodness…" He stammers, voice suddenly higher than usual, as he scrambles to fix it. "…The clothes suits you" He bites his lip, hands trembling, and wishes he could just disappear.

The words hang in the air, awkward and hopeless.

You just stare at him. No teasing. No mocking. Just a calm understanding. It’s like you can see the mess of thoughts he’s trying desperately to hide.

And then, finally, you smile. Just a small, quiet one.

Your voice is gentle as you offer. "Thank you… You look stunning too."

His stomach does a strange flip at your words. His breath hitches for a moment. He doesn’t know why, but those words hit harder than he expected.

You ... actually complimented him.

It feels like an angel just offered him a blessing, and he’s not sure his heart can handle it.

He blinks rapidly, trying to process what you just said. His heart races, and his hands tighten around the shovel’s handle again. His face is burning, and despite his best efforts, he can’t seem to look anywhere but at you.

Andrew doesn’t think he’ll ever recover from this.

✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦ Picture: from Identity V official (not me) ✦.───────── ˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗ ───────── .✦

Sorry that it took this so long. I have lots of exams the previous week.

[cherry-alive]

Most of the time it's not that big of a deal, my symptoms are mild and I have ways to work around it in most areas. But sometimes my lack of coordination and fine motor skills is really really annoying. I feel really happy when I look pretty, and want to do things like braid my hair or paint my nails or wear makeup or put on clip-on earrings or do jewelry clasps or do up little buttons or whatever. And I can't do any of that stuff easily, and some of it I can't do at all. I don't have the tremor in my hands I had when I was on lithium, at least, that sucked. But my coordination and motor skills are still pretty poor and it makes it really hard to do a lot of things like that, and it's just frustrating. I'm trying to learn how anyway but I just wish it was easier.

[coffee-and-geto]

“YOU WOULDN’T LIKE ME WHEN I’M HUNGRY!”

“Just warm? I thought you meant I was hot, hot.” “Hot, hot?” “Yeah, I guess I’m a handsome guy, am I not?” You snort. “And so full of yourself.”

pairing: werewolf! satoru gojo x f!reader | kinkoctober

summary: since you were kid, you’ve been friends with satoru gojo. having grown up in the same village, it’s perfectly normal to meet up, laugh in front of a campfire and reminisce about the good old days, isn’t it? not the place or the time to confess your true nature, hmm?

warnings: +18 only, smut, nsfw, childhood friends to lovers, both lived in a small village, firecamp mood, sex (p in v), fingering (f!receiving), doggy style, handjob, bredding kink, full moon, nipple play, dirty talk, talking about being parents, fluff, (if you wanna picture werewolf like it’s same as jacob in twilight).

wc: 3,568

“I’m a werewolf.”

Those words, whispered in the silent night — or almost silent. Unless you count the cicadas’ songs that break the inaudible, sacred stillness of the dark. Under a sky where stars shimmer and the village campfire is the main source of light, casting a fiery glow in Satoru's eyes as he looks at you.

The dry, earthy ground, the scent of pine trees, roasted marshmallows, and the laughter of other young villagers — all back for the famous autumn full moon.

And you, sitting beside your childhood friend — Satoru Gojo.

Who utters words you never thought you’d hear from him, whispered without a care about being overheard. His azure gaze fixed on yours, as though searching the depths of your soul for any reaction besides your obvious shock.

With his hands pressed against the dry ground, his long legs stretched out, his torso turned toward you — every ounce of his attention captivated by you and only you.

As it always has been, hasn’t it?

And out of all the things he could have confessed, this declaration is what passes through his lips, cutting short your laughter and turning it into a gasp.

Then nothing. Silence.

“You— Satoru, what?”

And oh, how he could have fallen for that little frown of yours, so confused, so lost, so utterly adorable.

But he doesn’t repeat his words. He just watches you, lips flat but eyes replacing the smile you knew so well. The glow of the flames licking the campfire’s wood casts orange hues across his face like a phantom’s shadow.

Swallowing hard at his lack of reaction, you glance around, disoriented — your village, your family, your friends, your neighbors. No one seems the least bit troubled, nor does it seem like they’re paying attention to your conversation.

“Sweetheart.”

The nickname makes your panicked heart swell, and Satoru gently anticipates your next move. His rough, warm hand rests over yours, silently asking you not to worry.

“I always thought you’d figure it out on your own one day,” he murmurs.

“What do you mean?” you reply, and he can’t help but chuckle — a low, rumbling sound that almost seems wolfish.

“All the stories since we were kids.” He pauses, giving you time to process. “Our parents told us, and it’s also the history of the village.”

“A story is just a story, Satoru.” You pull your hand from his and prepare to stand up.

Enough with the tasteless jokes.

“This isn’t funny.” And his little heart breaks, because he hates the annoyed tone you take, though he still tries to salvage the situation.

Why the hell did he blurt it out like that?

“Wait, sweetheart,” Satoru pleads, his voice low and husky. His large, warm hand gently catches yours, urging you to sit back down. But as you persist in pulling away, he ends up confessing in desperation, “Am I disgusting to you?”

This time, it’s not the night’s silence that overwhelms you but Satoru’s puppy-dog eyes. Like he’s afraid you’ll walk away from him forever.

“Disgusting? Satoru…” You pinch the bridge of your nose and sigh. “You know I hate your jokes, and—”

“I’m not lying.” He presses his hand desperately over yours, tugging slightly to make you sit down again. “Do you want me to show you?”

Your eyes widen. “Excuse me? Here? In front of everyone?”

“Everyone already knows. You’re the only one blind to it,” Satoru breathes, standing gracefully without ever letting go of your hand.

“What are you even talking about? And where are you taking me?” you protest, stiffening your legs so he won’t drag you away. But he only chuckles softly, turns toward you, and suddenly hoists you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes (yes, really — nothing more, nothing less).

Only a chuckle answers your protests as you weakly pound your fists against his perfectly sculpted back under his white t-shirt, hiding so much more beneath.

“Satoru fucking Gojo!”

“Hmm, so Satoru is gay and he fucks Gojo?” He bursts into laughter at his own joke, tightening his grip to keep you from falling as he carries you further into the forest of tall pines that have watched you both grow up.

Yet you persist, thrashing about to make him let go — but in vain.

He walks surprisingly fast, as if guided by some instinct, knowing exactly where he’s going. Or maybe he’s been here countless times when you weren’t around — or when you were asleep?

When he finally stops, Satoru carefully sets you down and presses his lips together to stifle his laughter at the sight of your disheveled hair and utterly defeated expression.

Heat rises to your cheeks as you turn your back on him, trying to fix your hair. Your gaze lands on the river running through the forest, its surface shimmering under the moonlight tonight.

Lips press a kiss to your cheek, and you shove Satoru away as he laughs, delighted by your tomato-red face.

“Stop it.” You punch his chest, though he doesn’t budge an inch.

It’s like hitting solid concrete — only slightly softer.

He takes advantage of your moment of confusion to step back and peel off his t-shirt, revealing his muscular chest, pale skin, and far-too-defined V-line.

Your eyes dart away from the sight he’s offering, one even the moon seems to embellish with its rays. But then the sound of a belt buckle clicking open makes your eyes widen.

“Satoru, don’t you dare—”

“Relax, I just don’t want to tear my clothes while transforming. How else am I supposed to get back home after?” He chuckles, giving you time to turn around and offer him some privacy.

You can feel his damned smirk, but you swallow down yet another sharp retort.

It’s always been like this with him. He’d tease you, you’d say you didn’t like it, and then chase him around while convincing yourself it wasn’t funny  —  ignoring the laughter that always bubbled in your chest.

At school, it was the same story. You were practically glued to each other, one always with the other. A constant war between two friends competing over anything and everything. Who would leave the haunted house first, who would blink first, or who could sleep without a nightlight after yet another story about the village’s werewolves.

Since you were kids, you hardly ever kept secrets from one another.

So why does this unpleasant sound of bones cracking and flesh tearing behind you feel both so new and so familiar?

Has Satoru always carried this secret within himself when you spent your evenings together watching movies? Had he tried to tell you, leaving hints for you to eventually uncover the truth?

All those times he managed to climb impossible places no ordinary human could, or when he walked past you and, with one sniff, could tell if you’d changed shampoo?

Or how he seemed to turn into your personal bodyguard at least once a month, and anyone who dared hurt you ended up with a broken limb?

Since middle school, he had always seemed more mature despite his jokester nature. And his physique — how drastically it had changed when he turned 18. If it hadn’t been for the Satoru you knew, you would never have guessed that back then, he was just a young adult.

And now in college, the two of you seemed like proper adults.

Real, young adults, still friends.

Even if kissing your friend on the cheek isn’t exactly common?

Even if sleeping in the same bed with nothing but cuddles and hugs isn’t normal?

Even if you’d both seen each other practically naked under the right circumstances without either of you daring to ogle the other?

A bark snaps you out of your thoughts, and you turn around with a start.

Standing before you is a massive wolf-dog with snow-white fur tinged with silvery hues, and cerulean blue eyes piercing through the forest's shadowy darkness.

You freeze in place, staring at the creature before you. It is both majestic and terrifying.

“Satoru?”

The white wolf barks and rushes toward you, affectionately nuzzling his nose against your stomach before moving up to lick your chin. If it weren’t for his sheer size, he might’ve been mistaken for a puppy.

A tender smile spreads across your lips, and you stroke Satoru’s head, his fur so soft and cool you can’t resist planting a small kiss on it.

“You’re gorgeous.” Another kiss on his snout earns a bark that sounds like joy. “And so cute, and so big, I’d hold you like a plushie all the time if I could.”

He lets out a soft growl against you, lifting his front paws to rest them on your shoulders. In the background, his bushy white tail wags happily.

You cup his face in your hands, noticing the glint of his sharp teeth as he opens his mouth slightly.

“You’re not scary,” you coo, kissing the top of his head, and he squeals in appreciation. “And you’re not disgusting at all, I swear.”

He barks happily once more before bounding away, running around wildly before stopping to howl at the moon.

The sound is so powerful that a shiver runs down your spine.

~~~~

Back in the village, Satoru is already back in his normal form, and you scream in terror when you find him standing completely naked in front of you, a mischievous smile playing on his lips before he puts on the clothes he had tossed onto a fallen tree trunk.

No one seems to notice that you’ve just witnessed a werewolf transformation. According to Satoru, it’s simply because you haven’t realized that nearly half the male population of the village shares the same condition.

On this full moon night, new werewolves are being initiated, others are transforming just for fun like Satoru (since it’s the only time he can do it freely without going mad for the rest of the month while waiting for the next full moon), while some are engaging in reproduction.

Because, as he tells you, a full moon means mating season for werewolves.

But tired of it all, you head back home, with Satoru following closely behind—where no one will return for quite some time.

You collapse onto your bed, immediately curling up under the blanket before scooting over to make space for Satoru.

He doesn’t waste any time.

He slides in beside you, wrapping his strong arms around you to warm you with his naturally higher-than-average body temperature.

“You’re going to be useful in the winter,” you giggle, closing your eyes with a smile, your back pressed firmly against Satoru’s warm chest.

“I’m pretty hot, huh?” he murmurs into your hair, placing a welcome kiss there. No need to wonder what he means anymore, right?

“Mh-hmm,” you hum. “Like a warm comforter.”

Satoru frowns. “Just warm? I thought you meant I was hot, hot.”

“Hot, hot?”

“Yeah, I guess I’m a handsome guy, am I not?”

You snort. “And so full of yourself.”

His embrace tightens around you, and he grazes his lips against the shell of your ear. “Am I?”

“Admit that you aren’t just hot in both ways,” you mutter.

“Because there is a third?” he asks, his breath tickling you.

“Don’t act innocent.”

He settles his head fully onto the pillow, the moonlight filtering through your window caressing his flawless face. “Never said I was.”

And he chuckles when you huff.

Then he returns to his original position, pulling you closer to his chest before gently running his hand along your forearm. His touch is warm, inviting, mischievous—yet affectionate, asking for nothing but a little more closeness.

You sigh, closing your eyes, slightly parting your lips as you let the back of your head rest against his neck.

He takes advantage of your vulnerable position, sliding his arm around your waist and closing any remaining space between you. His thumb traces slow, soft, patient circles over your stomach. Each motion makes you crave more.

So you shift slightly, freeing your torso to give him access to your neck, where his warm, steady breath teases your skin. He must feel it by now—the way your heart races in your chest, how your breathing grows quicker, shallower.

And Satoru, in his sly delight, doesn’t react more than you desire.

He simply lowers his nose to the hollow of your neck and shoulder, brushing his lips against your skin, resisting the primal urge to claim you as his. To mark you as his own.

So you move again, giving him full access to mark your bare neck or shoulder, your ass pressed firmly against him, wriggling just a bit to adjust—or perhaps not.

Satoru presses his lips together as he feels a surge and a quickening heartbeat in his pants, blood rushing to the area. Giving in, he sinks his mouth onto your neck, planting open-mouthed kisses, the wet, noisy sounds of his lips against your skin sending shivers of pleasure through you.

You press yourself impossibly closer to him, guiding one of his large hands to your breast. Your back arches so deliciously against him as he cups the soft mound in his palm.

Between the kisses that turn into hickeys along your trapezius and his hands kneading your breast, teasing your hard nipples, you reach for his other hand with a soft whimper and guide it under your shorts.

He doesn’t waste a second, his already warm hand finding its way to your already puffy clit. He rubs slow, torturous circles, spreading your wetness over it to make things easier. You are now reduced to shallow pants and lewd, adorable noises.

“F-Fuck, Toru,” you whisper, looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Let it go, sweetheart,” he murmurs, toying with your intimate area, using his middle finger to spread your lower lips and gently pat your drenched entrance, the tight little ring of resistance testing his patience. “Will you let me take care of you?”

You nod, your eyes fluttering shut as you moan his name again when he breaches the soft, wet resistance of your entrance. His middle finger slips inside you, gently parting your walls as he seeks out that one sweet spot that makes your toes curl.

When he finds it, he rubs it gently, drawing gasps from you while his forefinger plays with your clit, his other hand busy tugging and twisting your nipples under your shirt. He bites down on your neck, slurping your soft skin before pumping his finger into you.

“Feels good?” he asks in a hoarse voice. The sound of him like this — taking care of you while pressing his hardness against your ass — is almost as good as what he’s doing to your body. You squirm against him, relishing the way your movements draw a throb from his length. It feels like he’s about to cum in his pants.

“Such a tease, hmm? Didn’t know this side of you,” he whispers into your ear, sliding a second finger inside you. He thrusts both digits knuckle-deep, curling them perfectly.

You mewl, letting him feel your walls tightening and clenching around his fingers every time he brushes your sweet spot. The slick, wet sounds of your arousal make him groan — did you just throb?

“Close,” you warn, your body folding as the knot in your stomach tightens, teetering on the edge of release. You wince, struggling to control your shallow breaths as your orgasm approaches. “Please, Toru.”

“Cum, baby, cum,” he coaxes, his voice soft and encouraging as he thrusts his fingers deeper into you. His grip tightens on your breast, and his fingers work your clit with relentless precision.

A second later, you come undone, cumming hard on his fingers. Your walls spasm around them, coating them in your warm juices. You bury your face in the pillow, gasping for air as the pleasure courses through you.

Satoru carefully withdraws his fingers, bringing them to his mouth to taste you. “Hmm, tastes as good as I thought you would,” he hums.

“You thought?” you repeat, your voice feeble.

“I never said I was innocent,” he says, echoing his earlier words with a smirk.

“You thought about how I’d taste?” you ask, raising an eyebrow with a skeptical pout.

“Not exactly that dirty, but…” he presses a soft kiss to your temple, “Can you blame me?”

You chuckle softly, sliding your shorts and soaked panties off under the blanket, your thighs damp with sweat and slick. As you shift, Satoru pinches the soft flesh of your rear.

“Didn’t you say tonight was the werewolves’ breeding night?” you tease, a smirk playing on your lips. The mere sight makes him want to cum in his pants.

“Would you let me?”

“I’m just waiting for you,” you say, blowing out a breath.

At those words, he wastes no time, undoing his belt and sliding his pants and boxers down. A damp spot betrays how hard and ready he is, his tip already leaking.

You reach out, wrapping your hand around his flushed, twitching length. It jumps slightly as you stroke him gently, a naughty smile playing on your lips — a sight that nearly drives him wild. You lower your head, giving him a perfect view of your bare ass as you tease him.

Each stroke of your hand makes him bite his lip harder, suppressing a moan. He’s trying to stay composed — he’s a man, after all.

But when you guide his shaft to your swollen lips, rubbing his reddened tip back and forth against your slick entrance, it nearly breaks him. You coat his mushroom tip with your cum, then press it against your tight, dripping hole.

Satoru exhales a trembling sigh, gripping your hips as if to ground himself. His fingers tighten, promising marks that will bloom later on your skin.

“Lemme fuck you, please, sweetheart,” he groans, his voice desperate as he struggles not to buck his hips into you.

And you smile. Such a naughty girl.

You sit up, slipping off your top to feel freer, and then position yourself on all fours, lifting your hips to give him full access to your dripping pussy, which aches to be filled.

You giggle softly, wiggling your hips, burying your face into the pillow.

Satoru takes it as an invitation. He positions himself at your entrance, stroking himself a few times before sliding into you. The stretch is delicious, like something out of a dream.

Your whimpers fill the room, rising into melodic, lewd moans — music to his ears.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Satoru hisses, gripping your hips to pull you closer, sliding his cock all the way inside until his tip kisses your womb. When he bottoms out, he knows it.

Even though he’s on the verge of cumming, Satoru wants to make sure you cum with him — to breed you thoroughly. His babies. Making you a mom.

The thought makes his thrusts gentle at first, letting you adjust to his size. But when you push your hips back and babble for him to fuck you for real…

He snaps.

He’s pounding into you, his heavy balls slapping against your clit, adding to the obscene wet sounds filling the room. Your ass meets his hips again and again, your walls gripping him tighter each time he withdraws, only to pull him back in harder.

It’s not just your bodies syncing but your hearts too. Breathless pants, gasps, pleading moans, and filthy whispers intertwine, creating something sacred between you.

“Toru, ah, please, deeper,” you whine, your hands gripping the sheets as he fucks you so perfectly.

“Deeper?” he repeats, his voice teasing as he grabs your hair gently, pulling your head back to arch your spine. It gives him even better access to the sweet spot he intends to flood with his seed. “You want me to be a daddy? And you a mommy? Cute little werewolf babies?”

“Fuck,” you moan, clenching tighter around him. “I want it. I want to be full of your cum and have babies.”

“So good, so tight,” he groans, his thrusts relentless. “Promise. You’re mine, remember?” But your nod isn’t enough for him. “Say it, sweetheart.”

“I’m yours, I’m all yours, Toru,” you sob, tears streaming as you teeter on the edge. “I-I’m close,” you babble, your hips moving in tandem with his.

Satoru leans over you, his chest pressing against your arched back. His cock twitches as he growls, “Gonna take my load? Gonna cum so fucking much, yeah?”

One final thrust sends you both spiraling.

You cum hard, clenching so tightly around him that it’s a miracle his length fits inside you. He fills you with his warm seed, so much that it spills out in thick spurts.

Heartbeats pounding, breaths ragged, Satoru softens inside you, slowly pulling out. He kneels to watch the mix of your juices and his spill from your stretched hole.

He slides two fingers back in, gently pushing his seed back inside. “Need it to stay here,” he murmurs, patting your ass and pressing a kiss to your back. “Wanna go back to the village later?” Satoru asks.

You shake your head. “Just stay with me. With the future mother of your children.”

“Hmm, I think I can get used to this. Or maybe ‘wife’ is a better title?” He collapses beside you, a tired but peaceful smile on his face.

“Husband too,” you whisper, your voice filled with warmth.

a/n: thank you guys to have read this silly fic <3 on my period rn and it sucks but anyway. lot of tests coming so i think the stress is the reason haha. this time i don’t have a lot to say, just that writing about satoru is the best thing lol. some memes about wolves come to my mind i just wanna add them somewhere lmao

like and reblogs are always appreciated as comments <33

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @elliesndg

@drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq @sanemistar

@monokaix

[bloomseishiro]

ONLY IN MY DREAMS — ITOSHI RIN

౨ৎ — you wake up from a bad dream about your boyfriend flirting with another girl. safe to say, you aren’t very happy.

itoshi rin x fem!reader. fluff, established relationship, timeskip!rin, reader gets a little insecure don’t be mean or i’ll fight u /j :p just a silly lil bf rin drabble 

word count. 0.7k

You considered yourself to be a rational person. Sure, you had your moments…but didn’t everyone?

You weren’t so proud as to say that dreams never affected you. That was why, after this particularly bad one where some faceless girl was rubbing all up against Rin and he was letting her, you woke up seething.

With furrowed brows and an intense glare, your head whips to the side to find Rin sleeping soundly and blissfully unaware of your inner turmoil.

You huff at the sight, haughtily flipping over to your side and making an effort to scoot as far away from him as possible without falling off the bed. 

Your tossing and turning causes him to stir, and his eyes crack open slightly.

You huff even louder once you notice he’s awake and place a pillow between the two of you.

Rin makes a grunt of confusion as he moves the pillow aside.

You shoot him a glare.

His dumbfoundment only grows and he frowns. “What?” 

“I’m mad at you,” you sniffle.

“Well, I know that,” he retorts, rubbing the bleariness from his eyes. “But why?”

“You almost cheated on me!”

Rin blinks slowly.

“In my dreams!” 

Now it’s Rin’s turn to glare at you.

“Really?” he says flatly.

“Yes!” you exclaim, throwing the bed sheets over your face. “We were at a restaurant, and I went to the bathroom for a little bit. Then I come back to some girl at our table and she’s flirting with you and touching your arm and chest and you’re encouraging her! You even kissed her cheek! What the hell?”

Rin pulls the covers aside and watches you seethe, teeth grit as you hug your pillow and avoid his gaze. You’re too annoyed to look at him right now.

“You know it didn’t really happen, right?” he asks, voice somewhat amused. “It’s just a dream.”

You shrink into yourself. “I know it’s just a dream. But it felt so real.” 

As stupid as it was, it hurt your feelings. You knew it wasn’t Rin, but it could be. Your bad dream brought insecurities to light that weren’t even on your radar. What if someone tall and pretty and confident likes Rin, and he realizes he’s interested in them too? Anger bubbles up in you at the thought. If that ever were the case, you would leave in an instant. But it broke your heart to even think about the possibility. 

At your prolonged silence, Rin sighs and scoots closer to you, draping his arm around your waist in a hug. “It wasn’t real, okay? I’m not a fucking dumbass who would even think of doing that to you.” 

You take a long breath, nodding because despite your overwhelming negative emotions, you know he’s right. Rin doesn’t even like talking to other people. There’s no way in hell he’d let someone feel him up.

“I know,” you say softly and he hugs you tighter. “I can’t believe this dream ruined my good night’s sleep.” 

“We’ll just have to shove Dream Rin off a cliff into some spikes so you can go back to sleep.” 

You giggle at the thought. “I like the sound of that.” 

You feel Rin’s body relax against yours once he hears your laugh. You snuggle deeper into his embrace. 

“You do know I would never cheat on you, or even let another girl flirt with me, right?” he says after a moment’s silence. “I only care about you.” 

“I know,” you promise. “I trust you. Even though you are stupid in my dreams.”

He snorts. “They’re your dreams. It’s your fault for making me like that.”

You sigh. “I know.” 

Rin presses a kiss to the back of your head, his grip on you loosening as he tries to get comfortable. 

“It’s still early. Let’s go back to sleep,” he says in a tired mumble. “If you get more bad dreams, I’ll jump in there and kick the fake me out.”

“Promise?”

He chuckles lightly. “Promise. Once science figures out a way to do that.”

You laugh along with him, relaxing your head on your pillow as you let the sleepiness take over. “Sweet dreams, Rin. I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

This time, your sleep is filled with dreams of cotton candy and butterflies. No evil Dream Rin in sight. 

[luverine]

⊹ Sinister Mark x Fem!Reader ⊹ ⁀➴

blood // cannibalism // mdni // sfw // possessive and obsessive // violence? //

“You taste even better than before.”

The man before you hums in satisfaction, his tongue flicking out to lap up the streak of blood trailing down your temple- the result of a crash he caused.

The resemblance is uncanny. He looks just like Invincible, but something is off. The yellow and black costume, the unkempt scruff, the way his eyes seem darker, hungrier. Maybe you never noticed on TV, or maybe he wasn’t meant to be seen like this. Up close, he’s terrifying.

He tilts his head, studying the tremble in your gaze. “Why do you look so confused? It’s me, sweet.” His grip tightens. His voice is softer now, but not in a way that soothes. “Still sweet,” he murmurs, as if he’s reminding himself. Then, quieter, a murmur, “A little more savory than her, though.”

Your stomach turns.

“What the hell are you talking about?” You thrash, desperate to break free, but his fingers only sink deeper into your skin.

He just smiles.

“Very different, too. She was a quiet, weak little thing, cowering at every move I made.” His grip tightens as he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. “And here you are, fighting me.” He chuckles, low and amused. “Cute.”

Your teeth grind together as you suck in a sharp breath, ready to spit venom, to scream, to do something-

But he silences you with a bloodstained finger pressed against your lips.

“Shhh.” His voice is almost tender. Almost.

His gaze drags over your face, hungry, starved. “It’s been so long since I saw you. I couldn’t help myself, you know?” He exhales like he’s savoring the moment, like he’s remembering something intoxicating. “You were the best dessert I ever had.” His lips curve, eyes dark with something twisted.

“I couldn’t stop.” His thumb brushes your chin, smearing warmth across your skin. “Just thinking about you makes me feel starved.”

“That won’t happen again, though.” His smirk deepens, eyes glinting with something dark. “It was too quiet without you. And I have needs, y’know.”

“What the f-” Your voice shakes, but the fury in your chest burns hotter. “Let me go! You’re insane!” You shove at him with everything you have, but he barely moves, only letting out an amused huff.

Annoyed, he shifts, pressing closer, caging your body against his. The air around you thickens, suffocating.

“Wow,” he murmurs, his head tilting like he’s listening to something. “Your heart’s beating so fast.” A slow grin creeps across his face.

His fingers curl tight around your wrist, feeling the pulse hammering beneath your skin.

“What is it?” He leans in, voices a whisper against your ear.

“Are you scared of me too?”

He leans in, his nose brushing against your hair as he inhales deeply.

“You smell just like her.” His voice is almost a groan, laced with something sickeningly pleased.

Your mind rings in panic.

“I’m taking you with me,” he murmurs, his grip unrelenting. “You’ll learn to like it.” A careless shrug, like this is all so simple. So inevitable.

Then his eyes flick down, raking over the torn fabric of your shirt, lingering too long.

“Look at you… new and improved.” His lips curl, dark amusement dancing in his gaze.

“Yeah,” he breathes, voice thick with certainty.

“I like you more already.”

Doom fills you, heavy and suffocating, sinking into your bones like a death sentence.

Your breath shudders, shallow and uneven. Every nerve in your body screams for you to run, to fight, but his grip is iron, his presence is overwhelming.

He watches you, his smirk widening as if he feels the fear rolling off you.

“There it is,” he murmurs, pleased. “That feeling. I missed this.”

A shiver crawls down your spine.

You try to move, anything, but he only presses closer, his warmth suffocating, his strength inescapable.

“You can feel it too, can’t you?” he whispers, his breath ghosting over your skin. “That sinking, twisting, crushing feeling.”

His fingers trail up your arm, slow, deliberate, pressing just enough to feel the pulse beneath your skin. The heat of your blood, the fragile rhythm, it fascinates him.

“You’re mine, and I’m not letting go this time.”

He leans down again, his tongue dragging slowly along the side of your face, lapping up the fresh blood seeping from the gash. Another satisfied hum rumbles in his chest.

“You taste so good.”

His scruff scrapes against your skin, a cruel irritation that only adds to the violation.

“God damn it, stop-”

Before you can finish, his hand snaps around your throat, cutting off the rest of your words. Your eyes go wide as his grip tightens, his gaze sharpening into something cold and dangerous.

“Maybe I won’t appreciate that loud mouth after all,” he sighs, almost disappointed.

His dark eyes lock onto yours, drinking in the way you struggle beneath him. Then his gaze flickers lower, settling on your bloodstained lips. A smirk tugs at his mouth. He tilts his head, mockingly thoughtful- before crashing down, stealing the air from your lungs in a brutal, controlling kiss.

It hurts.

His teeth sink into your lips, claiming, devouring, you swear you can feel his jaw pressing into yours, an unrelenting force that demands everything. The taste of blood, coppery and warm, spreads between you.

When he finally pulls back, he lingers, his breath still ghosting over your skin. And then he sees it-

A beautiful sight.

Your lips, swollen and trembling, your chin slick with fresh blood. His work. His.

A slow and sharp shiver runs up his spine, like the edge of a blade dragging against bare flesh. Want. Hunger. Lust. It coils inside him, tightening, suffocating, consuming.

His thumb reaches out, smearing the crimson across your lips, his touch almost loving.

“You wear it so well,” he murmurs, voice thick with something dark and insatiable. He brings his finger to his mouth for a taste.

You tremble, your body instinctively curling in on itself, trying to shrink away, to disappear.

But he doesn’t let you.

“Uh uh uh,” he tuts, shaking his head, amusement dancing in his dark eyes. His fingers grip your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Don’t hide from me.”

His grin stretches wider, wicked and hungry.

“I’m going to savor you.”

His thumb drags along your bloody lips, his touch almost gentle, mockingly so. Then, he presses it into your mouth, testing, teasing.

“Every. Last. Piece”

A/N: Felt like writing for one of my favorite cannibals! I really wanted to lean into the whole “people eater Mark” thing •𐃷•

Likes, comments, reblogs appreciated જ⁀➴ ♡

[chleem]

request idea? thinking about how Drew would drop everything for his girl ❤️‍🔥 like if she showed up at his house crying because she needs him (something with her parents or something? maybe they forgot something important to her)

and Drew is with his roommates or friends (who love the reader) but as soon as he sees his girl sad, he has a soft spot for her and for taking care of her 🫶🏼

⋆.˚ Warnings: none, pure fluff (still, read at own caution

ִ ࣪𖤐 a/n: enjoy! sry i haven't replied for so long, i was spending cny w/my family.

word count: 2.2k

──── 𝜗𝜚 ─────

The sound of the basketball game is practically vibrating through the walls—close to the end, with the score tied and everyone on edge. 

Drew’s lounging on the couch, leaning back, eyes glued to the screen. 

The room is full of his friends, all hyped up, throwing out their commentary and joking around. It’s guys’ night, and it’s a vibe they’re all soaking in.

Then the doorbell rings for the second time tonight, and Drew’s eyes flicker to the door.

"Did we order pizza? Again?" Drew asks. 

“Dunno, man, check,” his friend says, not looking up from the game, clearly too invested. 

Drew sighs, a little annoyed at the interruption, but his feet move automatically toward the door.

When Drew opens the door, he doesn’t see pizza. 

He sees you.

His expression shifts instantly—his confusion giving way to something deeper. 

Drew notices the smudge of mascara under your eyes first—the dark lines trailing down your cheeks. The rest of your makeup isn’t much better: foundation starting to fade where the tears have blurred it, the eyeliner long gone from where it used to frame your eyes.

His heart skips a beat. The noise from the game and his friends’ laughter suddenly feel miles away, as if the room has gone quiet in an instant.

Then, through your teary eyes and blushed cheeks, you give him a smile. It’s weak, almost forced, but you try. You shrug your shoulders, like you're attempting to downplay whatever’s hurting you.

“Hey, Joseph,” you say, your voice cracking just enough that Drew hears it. Your smile fades, and the act you’re trying to put on crumbles just a little.

Drew’s heart sinks. He knows you too well. The moment you said his name like that—broken and vulnerable—he realizes just how much you’re holding back.

Without a word, Drew steps closer.

The easy-going grin he had on earlier is gone. His brows furrowed with concern as he reaches for you, hands cupping your cheeks. 

He holds you gently, but firmly—like he's grounding you, keeping you steady.

His gaze softens, and he watches, helpless for a second, as the first tear escapes and trails down your cheek. His heart aches seeing you like this.

His eyes never leave yours, and there’s an unspoken promise in them—I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.

When you speak again, the apology slips out almost before you can stop it. “I’m sorry…” you start, feeling bad for interrupting his night with his friends.

“Don’t. Don’t apologize.” He says, as if he’s trying to erase that sense of guilt before it can settle in. 

He gives you a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, “don’t ever apologize for needing me.”

He takes a moment, watching your eyes carefully, making sure you understand that he means it. There’s no disappointment in his gaze—only warmth, care, and an overwhelming need to protect you from whatever’s hurting.

Your eyes flicker away, sparkling with unshed tears as you struggle to catch your breath, trying to muffle the cries threatening to break free.

“It’s just- it’s just my parents-“

Your words falter as his friends cheer loudly in the background, their excitement rising with each point scored in the game. 

Drew notices immediately—your discomfort, the way you're struggling to open up in this moment—and it hits him: you’re still standing out in the hallway, exposed to everything.

“Let’s, let’s get inside,” he murmurs. He doesn’t need to say more than that—his hands move to your shoulders, guiding you toward his room, tell you everything.

His friends, too absorbed in the game, don’t notice the subtle shift in the air. They’re still yelling at the screen, completely oblivious to the fact that his girlfriend has showed up crying. 

As he leads you down the hall, you finally feel the air change—calmer, quieter. 

The second the door of Drew’s room closes behind you, the outside world fades.

Unknowingly, you’ve sat down at the edge of his bed, the soft mattress dipping under your weight. 

Drew quietly moves around his room, as he finds a box of tissues on his dresser. He doesn’t take his eyes off you, though—watching the way you sit, the way your shoulders shake with each breath, how your chest rises and falls, unevenly.

Once he hands it to you, Drew settles beside you. His arm slides around your shoulders, pulling you closer but not forcing you.

He listens carefully to the soft hiccups that escape from you, tiny gasps caught in the air. 

He just continues to rub gentle circles on your back, his touch light and comforting. 

Finally, Drew speaks, but it is barely above a whisper, “what’s wrong?”

You grab a tissue, dabbing your cheeks where the mascara has ran down. 

When you see the dark spots on the tissue, your chest tightens. The tears come faster now, and you let out a shaky breath between sobs, “now my makeup’s ruined!” 

Drew can’t help but chuckle lightly at your reaction, the sound soft and gentle. His hand, still resting around your shoulders, takes the tissue from your trembling fingers.

With a small, reassuring smile, he dabs at your cheeks, wiping away the smudged makeup with care. 

“Don’t, don’t worry about that,” he says quietly. 

The tenderness in his words feels like a balm to your frayed nerves, and for a moment, it’s the only thing grounding you.

As you look up at him, your breath catching in your throat, you notice how close he is. 

His face is inches from yours, and his eyes hold nothing but softness, nothing but a promise of comfort. His hand lingers at your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

“I…i had dinner with my parents,” you start. 

“I know,” he murmurs softly, his gaze never leaving yours. He'd seen the date marked on his calendar weeks ago, the reminder of your private dinner with your parents, and he had known it might be a tough night for you.

It was a dinner just for you and them—an attempt to reconnect, to have a moment where things might feel normal again. But Drew knew, from the way you’d talked about it in passing, that it wasn’t going to be easy.

“They still think, I made a huge mistake,” your voice cracks once again, and you swallow hard, as if trying to force the pain down, but it’s no use. It bubbles up too quickly.

Drew knows exactly what you mean. He remembers you telling him about dropping out in the middle of your final year. How it had been a decision made for yourself, even if your parents couldn’t understand it.

Drew watches you quietly for a moment, then speaks softly, “You did what was right for you. If they don’t get it, that’s on them, not you. Who cares what they think?”

He gives you a small, reassuring smile, before adding on, “you should see yourself through my eyes. You’re beautiful, smart, and more than enough as you are. You don't need a...certificate to prove that.”

His words settle over you, and for a moment, you feel your heart soften at the quiet sincerity in his voice. But you quickly look away, feeling a bit shy under his gaze. 

“Yeah, well…” you mutter, “we got into this huge fight, and I just stormed out- and look where I am. Ruining your - your guys’ night.”

“No, no,” Drew immediately interrupts, “you’re not ruining anything.”

Then, unexpectedly, without missing a beat, Drew throws the tissue in his hand toward the trash can in the far corner, and you watch, distracted by the sudden movement. 

You can’t help but let out a small chuckle when he makes a perfect shot, the tissue landing neatly inside with a satisfying swish.

Drew turns toward you, his smile both confused and amused, clearly unsure of what exactly made you laugh but happy to see you smile. “What?” he asks, his voice still holding that easy charm.

You stare at him for a moment, your eyes catching on his lips, the way they curve just slightly in that grin, and for a fleeting second, the urge to kiss him overwhelms you. 

It’s like everything else in the room fades away, and it’s just the two of you in this small, quiet moment.

Your breath catches in your chest, and before you can even think, the space between you seems to vanish.

Without a word, you lean in, your eyes fluttering shut, letting instinct take over. His hand gently cups your cheek, warm against your skin, as he tilts your head just slightly.

And then, you feel it—his lips against yours, and everything feels…right.

The kiss is calming, full of quiet affection—comforting in a way that eases all the tension, like a safe place where nothing else matters.

You could taste your own tears, salty on your lips, but somehow they only make the moment feel more real—more human. There’s something about the way Drew holds you, his lips soft and patient, as if he's absorbing all your hurt without needing to speak.

You pull away just briefly, catching your breath, but before you can even fully regain yourself, Drew leans in again, this time with urgency, as if he needs this kiss more than you.

His lips press against yours, deeper this time, gentle but insistent. His hand moves to your back, pulling you closer as if he’s anchoring himself to you, or to this moment.

You smile against his lips, hands wrapping around his neck. 

You want to push him against his bed, take him right there, show him how appreciative you are of him, but seems like, the rest of the world wants him too.  

The sound of his friends cheering from outside breaks through the moment, reminding you that Drew has guests over, and this isn't just your time with him.

You pull away, resting your forehead against his, closing your eyes for just a moment to catch your breath. 

When you reopen your eyes, you find Drew’s gaze already on you—soft, steady, and full of something unspoken. There’s a quiet intensity in the way he looks at you, like he’s taking in every detail, as if he’s memorizing this moment, just as you are.

“You have- you have people, in the other room,” to your own surprise, you’re stuttering. You pull your head away slightly, finding the fun in tracing the line of his jaw. 

“I wanna stay here,” he murmurs, his voice thick with something you can’t quite place, but you feel it in your chest, a quiet certainty. 

He doesn’t break his stare, and in that moment, it’s like he’s asking you to stay with him too—not just in this room, but in everything he’s feeling, everything you’re both sharing.

“Ask them to leave,” you whisper back, a small smile tugging at your lips, though the words are more playful than serious.

You both know it’s not that simple. 

“Join me,” he says, referring to his guys' night, to his friends in the living room. 

“Well, at least let me... change, and redo my makeup.”

“I don’t know…” he lets his words trail off, his eyes scanning your features with mischief lurking in them, “they might like- like having a panda around.”

You roll your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitch, unable to hide the small smile. You hear Drew’s throaty laugh escape his lips, a sound that makes your heart skip.

“Alright, just… take your time,” he says, his playful tone softening as he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips lingering just a moment longer than expected, like he wants to make sure you feel it.

You watch him, your chest warming at the gesture, as he moves across the room to his dresser. 

He pulls it open, rummaging through his clothes, and then, almost casually, he grabs the hoodie you recognize to be 'yours'. It’s his, but with how often you wear it, it’s practically yours now. 

Then, in one smooth motion, he opens the top drawer and takes out your shorts, underwear, and bra. He places them beside you, not even needing to say anything—just a small, thoughtful gesture that tells you he knows exactly what you need, even before you ask for it.

You look up at him, surprised by the simplicity of it, but somehow it feels even more intimate than words could say. It’s the way he just gets you, without needing to make a big deal of it.

And because it felt right, you whisper, “I love you.”

Drew’s gaze softens, the teasing smile melting away into something more sincere. His eyes hold yours as he says, “I love you more,” his voice quiet but filled with warmth. 

There’s no playfulness now—just honesty, raw and real.

“…now get out of here,” you tease, the corners of your lips lifting into a smirk.

He leans forward, his finger lightly tapping your forehead in a playful push, “so eager to get rid of me?”

“Yes,” you whisper back, and he smiles, shaking his head. 

With one last glance, he turns and walks to the door.

And once the door closes behind him, you’re left with a warm feeling in your chest—safe, loved, and entirely at peace.

-------------------------------

happy cny! angpao for everyone <3

i apologize in advance if this isn't good and has mistakes- i wrote it in a rush! (also, i realized there was a sudden pov switch- tf

elevator | other

[undercvrfan444]

Crawling back to you

It had been weeks since you’d seen Gojo. He was called away on a mission awhile back and unfortunately you both knew it was going to be a long one. When you decided to marry him it was a big deal to him that you knew what burdens came with his line of work.

“I’m so sorry baby, i’ll come back home to you even if I have to crawl.” Gojo wanted nothing more than to spend his every waking moment of his life with you, but you knew it wasn’t possible. His words are bittersweet when reminiscing on them. you’d been in situations much like this one yet, it never got easier to say bye to him.

Gojo would spend hours holding you before his missions, because he didn’t know if it would be the last one he went on or not.

Yes, your husband is the modern age’s strongest jujutsu sorcerer, but that doesn’t mean he’s immortal.

When he’s away you try your hardest to occupy the lonely time by visiting friends, delving into a fun new tv series, or just simply spend time tidying up the house and doing “wifely” duties so your man would come home to a familiar environment.

After spending another day doing mundane tasks you decided to call it a night. Your phone call with Gojo had lasted only a few minutes but in that time he had told you “I’m sorry sweetheart, it doesn’t look like i’m going to be home any time soon.” To which you replied with your best comforting tone, “It’s okay, I know how much they need you there so just stay safe and come home when you can.”

It was hard staying positive with these difficult circumstances. All you wanted was to feel your husband in bed with you again and take care of him since he’d probably neglected himself to care of the younger sorcerers. It doesn’t matter what anyone said about your husband, he may crack jokes and tease people incessantly but he had a heart of gold underneath it all.

When you got out of the shower it was like any other night. Slipping on one of your husband’s larger shirts, (cliche you know!) pulling on a fresh pair of underwear, drying your hair, filling up your favorite water bottle, and turning on some silly movie for noise. At the beginning of your relationship with Gojo he had honestly found it a little annoying that you’d do so much before bed seeing as all he wanted to do was snuggle into you. But fortunately he came around to your little ritual with ease! Actually he would join you in filling up his water bottle even if he never drank from it, helping you pick a movie, and even brushing your hair for you when you were too tired.

All Satoru wanted so badly was to be a man that could provide for you. He craved to know you had needs that he met and would drive himself mad doing anything and everything you asked him to. It was just his way of showing love aside from teasing you of course.

The moment your head hit the pillow you were sound asleep. So when your husband eventually walks into your shared bedroom it’s a shock to feel a warm and strong body envelope yours. “W-wha-“

Gojo presses his lips into your head as you shift in his arm, confused at the new body in your bed. “Shh baby, it’s me it’s me.” He presses another kiss into you before you’re sitting up quickly, looking down at your husband.

“‘Toru?” You rub your eyes softly to get a better look at him. He’s handsome as ever, worn around the edges from being in a hostile environment but still that striking man you married. “yes ma’am?” is all he responds with before you’re sinking you head into his chest. Both your arms wrap around his waist the best you can in bed while he places both of his large hands on either side of your face, holding your gaze with the same gentleness you fell in love with when you’d met him.

“How are you home!? Y-You told me it wasn’t going to be anytime soon!” Small tears flood down your cheeks at the overwhelming situation. Gojo coos at you and wipes the tears that fall with the rough pads of his thumbs.

He places a kiss on your forehead before pulling you into his chest and holding your body. “Oh don’t cry baby, i’m sorry I didn’t call you before I got home. Nanami called and said he would take over on the case since he knew i’d been stationed for so long. From there it’s been a whirlwind of constant moving to get back to you.”

Your head shakes frantically as you mesh closer into his body. “No don’t be sorry! M’ just glad t’have you home, are y’ hungry? Do you need me to do anythin’?” Sleep was etched into every word you spoke, your sentences running together.

Above you Gojo laughs and tightens his grip on you. “All I need is you in this bed with me, tucked against my chest, sleeping safely. We can worry about the rest in the morning.”

Lastly, one of the best parts of Gojo coming home isn’t just the sweet words he whispers to you before falling asleep. One of the best parts is when he seems to always wake up before you just to pull your panties down your bare legs so he can gently place your legs over his shoulders and dive into your cunt. Weeks have gone by without him being able to satisfy you and that’s the first thing on his mind when he sees your sleeping face.

He’s laps away at the slick arousal he pulls from your body like a starved man. You write above him and nothing beats hearing your sleep thick voice moaning his name while your hands pull the silky strands of his hair. “Hush baby. Let your husband do his job and make you feel good. She’s been such a good girl waiting for me to come home and take care of her.”

It doesn’t take an idiot to recognize he’s not talking to you. No. He’s taking to your pussy and fuck if it doesn’t make you want to jump his bones more than you already wanted to.

Banner from @animatedglittergraphics-n-more !

[miupow]

hi, i was reading your post on kinktober and i was reminded about how you talked about maybe writing some step brother beomgyu content, maybe that could be fun for the event

𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑 ‘24 ── 𝐁𝐄𝐎𝐌𝐆𝐘𝐔 + 𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐏𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐓

𝜗𝜚 ㅤ― 󠀬󠀬[ minors do not interact! ] choi beomgyu x fem!reader . stepcest , stepbro!beomgyu , mean dom!beomgyu , doggy style , gagging(?) , manual restraining , dirty talk, degredation kink , name calling , orgasm control

a/n ⸝⸝ my first time dipping my toes into stepcest... don't make me regret this !! ( ; ω ; ) this is so filthy omg…. i cannot believe i wrote this

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

your least favorite thing about your mother’s new husband was his son.

he was loud, brash, and annoying. he constantly invades your personal space just to tease you relentlessly, snickering as you throw things and yell at him to leave you alone. he’s reduced you to tears more than once, laughing gleefully at the way you sniffled and cried from his nasty words. you cry to your mother about it, tell her how much you hate him and all of he grief he causes you; she just shakes her head and tells you to get over it. after all, that’s how all big brothers are.

but big brothers aren’t supposed to sneak into your room at night to fuck you stupid. you were sure of that.

“quit whining,” beomgyu hisses in your ear, the loud wet slaps of his hips against your ass echoing throughout your quiet bedroom. “you don’t want to wake up our parents now, do you?”

your face burns with arousal and humiliation, the two emotions swirling together into a confusing, overwhelming mix that made your pussy throb. your tight gummy walls clench around your stepbrother’s cock as he aims a perfectly practiced thrust to hit your sweet spot. he can manhandle you however he pleases with his big hand holding your arms behind your back, using your body like nothing more than a pocket pussy. there’s no care at all for your own pleasure as he chases his orgasm, bulbous cockhead ramming against your cervix. he throws his head back with a low, filthy moan, his adam’s apple bobbing, such a handsome sight you glanced over your shoulder to admire. he was so hot it made your head spin… just another thing you hated about him.

“fuck, this pussy’s so greedy— such a fucking slut for your big brother’s cock, huh? do you want more?” beomgyu lands a harsh slap to your jiggling asscheek with his free hand, the sudden stinging pain making you yelp; beomgyu quickly muffles you with that same hand shooting up to cover your mouth. “god, be quiet, bitch. you’re gonna wake up the whole neighborhood; do you want them to know how much of a cockwhore you are? want them to know that you’re getting your pussy bred by your stepbrother? huh?“

“no!” you sob, shaking your head desperately, your pleas barely audible behind beomgyu’s palm. his thrusts just grow faster, hit inside of you deeper— you swear you can feel his big long cock carving a bulge in your tummy. your cunt aches for more stimulation, your pleasure ignored outside of your messy hole getting fucked. you fight against beomgyu’s grip on your wrists, squirming and twisting beneath him, desperate to touch yourself and finally relieve the building tension that was growing harder and harder to handle.

“you’re gonna take this cock.” beomgyu grunts, his hips growing sloppy and uncoordinated. “i’m gonna dump my cum deep inside this pussy and you’re gonna take it all, right slut?“

“mmffh!!”

“good whore.” beomgyu laughs.

[wildwestdean]

sweet and sour

summary: when you get back home after drinking a little too much, a sweeter side of ben slips out to take care of you. though you quickly learn that with him, you can't have any sweet without a little sour

pairing: soldier boy x female reader

word count: 3.2k+

warnings: some (mainly) ooc ben, swearing, depictions of alcohol consumption, drunk reader, angst, mentions of drug use, allusions to past sexual behaviours, fluff, hurt/comfort, nicknames/pet names

a/n: okay so i haven't actually made it to soldier boy's appearance in the boys yet, but i had a burning desire to write for him anyway. so yeah just don't judge pls lol

“What the fuck are you doing?” boomed a voice from behind you. 

You jumped slightly at the sudden noise, but turned with a grin upon recognizing whose voice it was. 

“Ben!” you giggled, meeting his confused gaze with bright eyes as you slightly swayed on your feet. “What’re you doing?”

He raised an eyebrow at you, trying to fight off the smirk forming on his lips as he ignored your question. “Looks like you had a good time out, huh, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t help the heat that rose to your cheeks at the term of endearment, or the string of giggles that left your lips. It wasn’t anything you weren’t used to, but it never failed to make you giddy - especially now. “I did!” you announced, before a frown suddenly took over your face as you remembered why you were in the kitchen “But now I want another drink, and I can’t find anythin’.” 

Ben just stared at you for a moment, taking in your rosey cheeks and glossy eyes; but most importantly, the frown that currently adorned your adorable face. He would never admit it, not even to himself, but he suddenly wanted nothing more than for that frown to disappear. 

“Alright,” he sighed, heading over to you. “What do you want?” 

You watched as he approached, taking in his more casual appearance of a t-shirt and sweats - and, you noticed with a shy grin, a pair of old man slippers. He came to a stop just before you, and you paused as you stared up at his stoic face while he towered over you. You didn’t even hear his question, too distracted by his overwhelming everything to even realize he asked something. 

He softly called your name to rouse you from your stupor, repeating it a little more gruffly when it didn’t work the first time. “What?” you asked, blinking up at his annoyed yet smirking face. 

“I asked you what you wanted,” he murmured. 

“Oh,” you said, your face scrunching together as you thought about it for a few moments. “I dunno,” you determined with a shrug. 

“And you expect me to find something for you?” he asked curtly, his brows rising in disbelief.  

Your brow unfurrowed as you grinned up at him. “Yes, please!” you declared eagerly, oblivious to the fact that he did not want to cater to you. 

He clenched his jaw, extremely irritated with his urge to smile at the sight of your cheesy grin. “Fucking-” he started, before he cut himself off with a long sigh, rolling his eyes. “Alright, fine. Just go sit down or something.”  

“Why?” you asked sadly, the frown taking over your face again. 

“Why?” he echoed incredulously. “When I came in, you were trying to find a drink while just staring at the fucking glassware for over a minute. That’s why.”

“Were you watchin’ me?” you asked smugly, smirking up at him. “Besides, that doesn’t mean I can’t help find a drink!” you argued, completely missing his point. 

His blank expression faltered for a second, a flash of colour fleeting across his face so quick it may as well have never been there. Then he simply barked a laugh, which only deepened your frown. “I bet you wish I was, huh? And you know, that's actually exactly what it means, dollface,” he chuckled darkly, tracing his knuckles along your cheek before suddenly grabbing you by the waist and hoisting you up onto the counter. “So sit this one out,” he said, ignoring your shriek of shock and protest. 

“Fine,” you grumbled, completely bewildered by the ease in which he manoeuvred you; as if it cost him zero effort. Which, of course, you knew to be true. 

“Good,” he said, smiling in satisfaction before ghosting a kiss against your forehead. “Now don’t fuckin’ fall off,” he warned as he walked over to the coffee machine. 

You watched him in confusion, your swirling brain trying to figure out why he was suddenly so much more affectionate with you. You were used to him teasing you, or returning your flirtations and banter, though this felt like more than that. Maybe he was just being extra nice since you were drunk. Or maybe you only thought he was being extra nice because, well, you were drunk. 

“Okay, knock it off,” he demanded, glancing over at you. “Why are you so frowny? I thought you liked your stupid girls’ night thing,” he added, leaning against the island with his arms crossed. 

“I do like my girls' nights! And I’m not frowny” you grumbled, almost offended he would suggest otherwise. 

“No?” he challenged, arching a brow as he took a few steps towards you. “‘Cause last I checked, this wasn’t your pretty smile,” he teased, tracing a thumb against your persistently downturned lips. Your smile naturally grew at that, and he beamed in response. “There’s my girl.” 

Your eyes widened at his words, and your reaction must have made Ben realize what he was doing. With slightly widened eyes of his own, he dropped his hand from your face as if burned and turned away from you once more, busying himself with making your coffee - exactly the way you liked it. 

You watched in silence, your feet softly swaying against the lower cabinets as your mind drifted in and out. “You don’t have any company tonight?” you found yourself asking suddenly.

“Think I’d be in here doing this if I had fucking company?” he asked hotly. “And I’m pretty sure you know when the last time I had company was,” he added bitterly. 

Through all the months of you living with Ben, you had noticed when his parade of bed warmers had started to dwindle down; and you had definitely noticed when it stopped altogether. Part of you likes to wish you had something to do with it, while the other part knew that was insane.

“Okay, grouchy,” you scolded with a chuckle. “Don’t act like it’s my fault.” 

“When the fuck did I act like it was your fault?” he snapped, growing exasperated. 

“Are you almost done?” you asked brazenly, ignoring his question. “I’m thirsty.”

“Coming right up, princess,” he sneered. 

You knew it was meant in a derogatory way based on his tone, yet you couldn’t help the warm tingle that spread through you anyway. 

“Here,” he grunted after a few minutes, nearly shoving the mug at you. He raised his eyebrows impatiently when all you did was stare down at it. “I better not have made this for nothing,” he warned. 

You gingerly took it from his hands, staring at it as if it was a foreign object; because, with a fluttering heart, you realized that he gave you your favourite mug - though you knew it was probably just a coincidence. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, grinning softly at him before taking a sip. 

“Whatever,” he mumbled, rolling his eyes as he hastily turned his back on you once more. 

“You seem extra grumpy tonight,” you pointed out, watching him intently as you happily sipped away. 

“Who fucking cares?” he grumbled, keeping his attention off you as he made himself a drink - a strong one. He had a sinking feeling that if he looked at you he’d feel all warm inside again, and he refused to let that happen. “Besides. Maybe me being extra grumpy has to do with the drunk girl currently sitting on my counter.” 

“Oh,” you said meekly. “I’m bothering you?”

“You always fucking bother me,” he mumbled, slamming the bottle down. 

“I don’t mean to,” you assured quietly, your vision growing blurry with unshed tears. “I thought we’ve been getting along,” you added sadly. 

“Me putting up with you isn’t us getting along, dollface,” he sneered. 

You inhaled sharply at his declaration, your tears finally breaking loose and running down your face. “I can just leave you alone, then,” you offered, your voice a mere whisper. 

Ben made the mistake of glancing over at you, and the pang of guilt he felt inside his chest really pissed him off. He begrudgingly made his way over to you, standing between your swaying legs as he tried to meet your gaze - but you refused to acknowledge his presence. 

“Look at me,” he ordered, placing a hand on your chin to force your gaze on him. 

“No,” you said, closing your eyes. 

He let out an honest chuckle at your stubbornness, and if you had been able to see him, you would’ve noticed his eyes sparkle with affection. “Look at me,” he said again, much softer this time as his thumbs wiped away your tears. 

You let out a resigned breath, slowly looking up at him. 

“There she is,” he cooed, a small smile growing on his face. “Hey, darlin’.” 

“Hi,” you replied solemnly, your face scrunching ever so slightly in confusion over the interaction.

He didn’t speak for a while. Instead he just stood there, staring at you with your face in his hands as he tried to figure out what the hell to say next. 

“Look, just- stop crying, alright?” he said awkwardly, almost nervously. 

“Is that your idea of being comforting?” you asked dejectedly, almost laughing in disbelief. 

His grip on your cheeks tightened ever so slightly for a fraction of a second, before loosening again. “You and I both know that offering comfort isn’t my thing.” 

“You could at least try,” you muttered snidely. “I’m tired of being the only one of us who tries.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” he snapped, letting you go and taking a step back in order to glare at you. 

You scoffed, frustratingly swiping away angry tears that began to stream down your face. “It doesn’t matter.” 

A heavy silence blanketed the two of you, and you picked up your mug to idly sip at it once more as he stared you down. He suddenly let out a frustrated huff, swearing and muttering under his breath as he turned away from you and grabbed his glass. With disbelieving eyes, you watched as he left the kitchen without a second glance. You weren’t a stranger to arguments with Ben, but this time, it felt different.

You stayed where you were perched, silently finishing your coffee and trying to make sense of everything that happened. You worked yourself back up into another frenzy as you thought everything over, and by the time your mug was empty you slammed it onto the counter with so much force you were surprised it didn’t break. Hopping off the counter, you began to stumble your way to your bedroom while angrily grumbling to yourself. A new inferno was set alight within you when along the way you came across Ben, nonchalantly lounging in the den as if nothing ever even happened. 

“How many fucking times do I have to tell you not to do that inside?” you snapped, watching in growing contemptment as he merely glanced in your direction before turning his attention elsewhere, smoke billowing over his face.  

“Tell you what, princess,” he muttered, taking another long drag from the joint he held. “I’ll stop smokin’ inside, as soon as you start payin’ for this fucking place.”

Without so much as giving it a second thought, you marched over to him and ripped the joint from his hands. He raised an eyebrow as he watched you with curiosity, a smirk already forming on his lips.

“I said,” you seethed, grabbing the ashtray from the side table as you stared him down. “Stop.”

He stayed silent, watching as you crushed the joint in the tray before tossing it back on the table with a clang. The corners of his mouth twitched as he fought back an amused grin before he steeled himself. 

“I’ll go ahead and give you ten seconds to leave,” he announced calmly, though you knew him well enough by now to notice the hint of warning in his tone. 

“Or what?” you challenged, stubbornly crossing your arms. 

Normally, you knew when to stop trying to push his buttons, but you had just enough alcohol still coursing through you to keep on going this time. 

He leaned forward, his presence completely imposing despite the fact he was sitting and you were standing over him. “Do you really want to find out?”

You shifted nervously as you took in his expression, and you knew he was both pissed off and annoyed; then again, it was rare that he wasn’t. 

“Whatever,” you finally muttered, turning away to leave. 

It wasn’t due to you being afraid of him - yes, he was intimidating as all hell, but he had never once actually physically hurt you. Despite the many times the urge struck him, and no matter how much he despised it, he quickly learned that you’re the one person he could never lay a harmful hand on. No, you simply left because you were growing exhausted over this whole night, and you just wanted some peace and quiet. 

“Thought so,” he grumbled behind your back, snickering as you momentarily stopped in your tracks. 

“Oh, just go to hell, Benjamin!” you exclaimed, whipping the closest thing you could grab towards his head. 

He caught it easily, laughing heartily when he realized what it was. “Thanks, doll. This is just what I needed,” he teased with a grin, rattling the pill bottle as he held it in the air for you to see. “It’s the only way I can fuckin’ put up with you.”

You stared at him carefully, and you could tell just by the look in his eyes that he only said it to get another rise out of you, but you couldn’t help the way your bottom lip trembled as you fought back more tears. 

His face instantly fell as he noticed your reaction, and while it was his intention, he instantly regretted it. With a heavy sigh, he tossed the bottle aside and stood up. 

“What are you-” you began to ask as he made his way over to you, but he cut you off. 

“Just shut up for once,” he muttered, a trace of a lighthearted chuckle in his voice as he shook his head. 

You opened your mouth to fire off more insults when he shocked all the words out of your vocabulary by wrapping his arms around you. He rested his chin on the top of your head, and even though you felt insurmountable anger towards him, you quickly found yourself melting into his touch, your arms tightening around his torso. A few moments passed by before he let out a small sigh, his fingers tracing a feather-light pattern along your back; a gentleness neither of you knew he was even capable of. 

“Look, I-... I didn’t… mean it,” he finally said. His tone was tight and awkward, and you knew it was a near impossible thing for him to actually admit. Honestly, hearing those words from him was nothing short of a miracle. 

“Thank you,” you said quietly, knowing this was the closest you would ever get to an apology from him. 

“How about we get you to bed, huh?” he asked lightly, trying to diffuse the situation. 

“Yeah,” you said, pulling away from him. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

You quickly left before he could respond, making it to your bedroom and locking yourself away in the bathroom to get ready. You took your time, carefully scrubbing away all the traces of the club, and the rest of the night, that you could before slipping into your night clothes. 

The first thing your bleary eyes noticed when you reentered your bedroom was Ben, paused in the middle of your room with a glass of water in his hand. 

“What are you doing?” you asked curiously, rubbing at your tired eyes. 

He let out a heavy exhale, looking at you with an expression you’ve never seen on him before. “Was just… bringing this to leave for you."

“Thanks,” you replied awkwardly, meeting him halfway to take the glass from him.

He stared at you for a moment, watching as you made your way to the bed and under the covers. He wanted to say something, but he wasn’t sure what. 

“I’ve been trying, you know,” he suddenly grumbled, unable to take the tense silence any longer. 

“What?” you wondered aloud, glancing over at him. 

His face was scrunched in concentration as he stared at something straight ahead, unable to bring himself to meet your gaze. “With you. To be… I don’t know… better.”

His words took you by surprise, and you felt a little guilty for making him think you never noticed. “I know that,” you admitted softly. 

“I don’t think you do,” he quipped, his voice more aggressive than he meant it to be. “You bother me all the fucking time.” 

“You know-” you began to argue, anger starting to simmer deep within your bones again. 

“Stop,” he all but growled, holding up a hand. “Just fucking listen for once.”

You glowered at him, folding your arms as you sank further under the covers, as if seeking some kind of protection, while waiting for him to continue. 

It took him a while to speak up again, and you almost thought he’d never continue, but he hesitantly explained himself. “You bother me… because you make me different.” 

“What do you mean?” you asked tentatively. 

“I don’t know,” he admitted, chuckling humourlessly. “I’m a dick. I don’t care that I’m a dick. But you- I’m around you, and I want to be less…” he trailed off with a sigh, unsure of how to go on. 

“Less dickish?” you offered, fighting off a smile. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, awkwardly clearing his throat. “Yeah, I guess so.”

You hummed thoughtfully, thinking over your response. “In case you haven’t noticed, you don’t exactly send me running for the hills, Ben.”

“I know that,” he said passively. “I just… I don’t know. Don’t think that I don’t try.”

He finally turned to look at you, and you could see the pleading in his eyes; the hurt. You sighed in defeat, sitting up and gesturing for him to take up the space beside you. He hesitated, raising a brow in contemplation before making his way over. You peeled back the covers for him, and he carefully slid in; cautious, as though he thought it was a trap. 

Neither of you were sure what to do next, and after a few minutes of awkward silence, you laid down to settle in for some sleep. Ben followed suit, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you in close; you instinctively nestled against him, relishing in the warmth he provided.  

“I hope you don’t think I’m drunk enough to forget that you were actually sweet tonight,” you said suddenly, your voice a playful whisper. 

He let out a chuckle, his chest rumbling beneath your cheek and forcing a small giggle from you. 

“Just don’t expect it all the time,” he declared, a playful undertone in his voice as well. “I’m mostly sour.” 

Though despite his declaration, his grip tightened to pull you in a little closer. 

“Well,” you said, closing your eyes and relaxing against him. “Sweet and sour does happen to be my favourite combination.” 

“And thank Christ for that,” he muttered, more to himself than anything. 

You smiled to yourself, hearing his words despite them sounding far away. You had a fleeting intent to respond, but your mind grew too heavy, and you quickly fell asleep to the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your head - though, not before you felt him placing a lingering kiss to your hairline, paired with a murmured goodnight, sweetheart.

tagging: @roseblue373

[classjezter]

Hello! I came across you today on my For You page and I just wanted to say I think you’re awesome! I remember watching rescue bots when I was younger and it was still airing, but TFO really jumpstarted my interest in the franchise! So I’d like to say I LOVE bby Oppy P with my whole heart. He is the adorbliest, Period. Which leads into my question: How would Starscream, Soundwave, and Shockwave react to bby Oppy? I’d imagine they were captured on the battlefield, and since Oppy has a habit of appearing in random places, he’d wind up with the three of them! Ensue hi jinx with paternal instinct Soundwave, confused Shockwave (He recognizes the resemblance of the sparkling and OP, but there’s NO LOGICAL WAY that could be him!) and Starscream having a surprising soft spot for babies! (Casual 3 men and a baby parody?) How would Oppy react to them? Would the trio try to kidnap him? How would the others respond realizing they lost Oppy? I bet Elita would blow a gasket lol. That’s all from me, have a fabulous evening!

Hi! Sorry for taking so long to answer, but now I’m gonna use your ask to explain a bit more the dynamics between the decepticons and the baby :D

It got a bit long, so it’s below the cut 🔽

Starscream may have complained about Optimus’ presence at first, but it didn’t take long for his true colors to show. Beneath his dramatics he has always had a soft spot for younglings, and Optimus, despite being his former enemy, was no exception. He grew attached quickly, far more than he’s willing to admit out loud. Now, he hovers constantly, scolding others for being too rough, too loud or too close, and constantly being there to “make sure everything’s fine”. He’s become fiercely overprotective, practically a doting mother, and while he will deny it over and over, he genuinely cares for the sparkling, cooing and fussing when he thinks no one is watching. Also, woe to the mech who dares make the sparkling upset or Primus forbid, cry, Starscream will make sure they regret it

Thundercracker may not have been overly interested in Optimus at first, seeing him simply as a sparkling in need of protection, nothing to get attached to. But that changed quicker than he expected. Despite himself, he started lingering a little longer when Optimus was around, quietly watching over him. The sparkling’s curious chirps and the way he’d toddle over to him with surprising trust quickly wore down his walls. He doesn’t fuss or smother like Skywarp (or occasionally Starscream) does, but he’s become one of Optimus’ calmest anchors in the chaotic Decepticon base. He’ll gently scoop the little mech up when he’s overwhelmed, or quietly hum to him during recharge when other decepticons aren’t around. His affection is quiet, he can offer safety and comfort without the noise

Skywarp treats baby Optimus like a mix between an adorable curiosity and a tiny partner-in-crime, often swooping in with antics or games that sometimes annoy the others. He’s more of a chaotic, fun uncle than a proper caretaker, prone to teleporting with Optimus just to see his reaction or sneaking him treats when no one's looking. Thankfully, his trine usually reins him in before things can go too far. Despite his recklessness, he genuinely cares about the sparkling in his own way, getting oddly protective if anyone upsets him

Soundwave took to baby Optimus unsurprisingly efficiently. Having raised his own cassettes, he was already well-versed in the needs of a sparkling, and to him, he didn’t see Optimus as a former enemy or a political figure, right now he was just a small, vulnerable lifeform in need of protection. While others sometimes hesitated or struggled with the idea of who Optimus used to be, Soundwave never does. He treats the sparkling with the same attentive care he gave to his own, anticipating needs before they arose, maintaining routine, and ensuring Optimus was safe and comforted. He doesn't smother, but his presence is a constant reassurance. If Optimus needs something, Soundwave is usually the first one to figure it out and provide. In the chaos of the Decepticon ranks, Soundwave is a stable, competent force and arguably the most dependable of all in Optimus’ new life

The cassettes quickly adopted baby Optimus as one of their own after seeing how Soundwave took to him. Rumble and Frenzy were the most outwardly enthusiastic, immediately diving into “big brother” mode in their own chaotic way. They roughhouse a little too hard sometimes or teach him bad habits (like to throw things at others' helms to get attention), but they are fiercely protective and dote on him in their own loud way. Ravage is quieter, a comforting shadow always nearby, gentle, watchful, and prone to curling around the sparkling like a silent guardian. Laserbeak often perches near Optimus, chirping at him and letting him tug on wires or wings without complaint. To the four of them, this wasn’t Optimus Prime anymore, just their baby brother, and no one was allowed to mess with him.

Shockwave initially regarded Optimus as nothing more than a scientific anomaly that needed to be studied and analyzed. His clinical approach and constant scans unsettled the sparkling, who didn’t understand why this mech never offered comfort like the others. It got to the point when whenever Shockwave got too close, Optimus would let out distressed beeps or outright scream. But after realizing his tests weren’t providing results (and a long talk from Soundwave), Shockwave ceased his experiments, and something shifted with time. Optimus gradually grew less fearful and more curious, eventually becoming comfortable enough to touch and climb on Shockwave like he did the others. From then on, Shockwave began caring for him in subtle, precise ways, adjusting environmental conditions, monitoring his well-being, and silently ensuring his needs were met. Though their bond is quiet and distant compared to others, it is grounded in mutual observation, trust, and an unspoken understanding.

Megatron spent the first few weeks avoiding Optimus, unable to face the complicated feelings the sparkling stirred in him. It wasn’t until after their “talk” (Megatron just ranting at him), that he realized this sparkling was a blank slate. A chance. Renaming the sparkling Nemesis, ready to raise the little one as a true Decepticon “strong and unburdened by sentiment or weakness”. And though he’d never admit it aloud, this was Megatron’s way of finally coping with the loss of Orion. Now, Nemesis adores Megatron, getting excited whenever the warlord enters the room, and instinctively toddling over to him, reaching for his hand or climbing into his lap. The love and comfort Nemesis feels for Megatron are undeniable, and though Megatron refuses to admit it, there's an attachment that forms between them. He tries to convince himself that Nemesis isn't Orion, but the sparkling's adoration and familiar actions (his giggles, his mimicked expressions, the way he nuzzles into Megatron's chest) haunt and heal him at the same time.

Thank you for reading, here’s an Oppy as a reward

[mrs-weasley-reid]

JUST SAY WHEN

Spencer Reid x writer!reader

Synopsis: You always choose Spencer Reid, but is it the right choice? Word Count: 3500+ WARNING: ANGST. not proofread!!! A/N: oh, here we go again... the angst plot in my head. this one feels disorganized. like my writing is all over. i've had this one in my drafts for over a month. but today i have the courage to hit post. honestly have mixed feelings about this. it's a new type of reader I'm dabbling in so i really am anxious about this. tell me what you think!

 “You should’ve seen him when he first saw me.”

THE PURCHASE.

 Vast lavender field soaked in chamomile tea. Dusty sunset through the window pane. Overwhelming aroma of old books. One figure tiptoes to the eighth shelf. Arm stretched to reach an old copy of The Scarlet Letter.

 Whenever Spencer is asked what he felt at that moment, he thinks, “Like I saw an angel freshly descended from heaven.”

 “Shit—” Gasps by the said angel.

 A book and body drop on the carpeted floor.

 Spencer runs to your aid. A failed attempt to prevent the seething pain you momentarily felt. First of many.

 “Are you okay?” He asks, kneeling next to you. Spencer reflexively offers his hand.

 You chuckle, taking his hand, and you feel him tense. “Don’t worry, I’ve had it worse.” You retract your limb to focus the pads of your hands on dusting yourself, squatting down to pick up the book.

 Spencer nods unknowingly despite the confusion and the knots in his eyebrows. He glances at the book, “That’s a great book.”

 Following his gaze, you hoist it up with a grin. “Very,” You emphasize. “I’ve read this, like, ten— thirteen times?” You brag excitedly, sparkling eyes as you meet his big brown sight.

 “Eighty-four.”

 You hum, raising your brows. 

 “I’ve read it eighty-four times.” Spencer shyly smiles, tight lips in a curved line. His hands grip the strap of his leather satchel. Socializing has always been his worst skill, let alone talking to someone as beautiful as you. He can’t help but feel his tongue twist itself into knots he can’t untie.

 You blink—slowly and adorably innocent. “What?” You chirp. It’s not every day you meet someone who’s read a book more times than you. Plus, the boy in front of you is quite the charmer, and you’re distracted by the glow of hazels in his eyes. 

 Spencer nibbles on his lips, and a faint reddish glow creeps all over the land of his skin. “I— uh, I have to go. Bye.” He shuffles as if his body can’t figure out where to direct itself and ends up malfunctioning in the process. In the end, he walks past you, rushing to another aisle.

 It takes you roughly twenty seconds to process that he’s no longer in front of you, twisting your body to his trail. “Eighty-four?!” You exclaim, baffled. 

 Your feet chase after him. “Wait!” You try to match his pace, almost jogging to catch up. “How is that even possible?” You get past him, completely blocking his way. “You just love this book so much that you read it on a loop, or what?” 

 “It really isn’t that big of a deal…” He mumbles, eyes glitching from one title to another, to towers of spines except you. A book with such a beautiful cover, his hands itch to reach and flip every page into memory.

 You place your hands on your hips, furrowing your brows. “Tell me how you read it eighty-four times. I won’t leave you alone until you do. And I swear I’m the most annoying person you’ll ever meet, so it might be in your best interest to get rid of me quickly before you go insane.” You shrug like it’s a normal thing to say to a stranger.

 Curiosity brims from your eyes, like a big doe's eyes begging a prey to bite her limb for the sake of adventure. And like a pirate tempted by a siren, Spencer takes the bait.

 “My mom loves the book, so I read it to her all the time.” He admits, a hand behind his neck. It’s the start of a long explanation. You don’t dare stop him. Your eyes are fully fixed on his moving lips. He can feel it. And he fights not to meet yours because he just might explode.

 Right then and there, you know the small contact from his hand completely stole your heart. And his words hold you into a willing prisoner because you saw him first from afar. Because you specifically chose the book in your hand despite having two copies of it to avoid first contact. Because you didn’t want him to know how long you’ve been staring. 

 Spencer gets abruptly cut off by a patron bumping into him. You fight every willpower in your chest to keep yourself from making a scene in a mall’s bookstore, shifting your attention to him.

 “Want to talk more about it over coffee?” 

 “I was mesmerized. The beauty of his mind was so intricate I couldn’t stop myself from falling even if I tried. I wanted him to own me. And it happened just as I wanted. I just didn’t know it’d be torture… Reaching his hand out was his fatal mistake. Taking his hand was my demise.”

THE FIRST CHIP.

 Disheveled. Broken. Sharp.

 Big brown eyes dull in the dead of the night. Spencer stands before you with indifference.

 He’s changed.

 But the grip on the neck of his satchel tells you your Spencer is still there behind the walls he put up. The first of many false hopes you convince yourself to believe.

 Five months. You’ve been dating Spencer Reid for only five months. And you’re in love with every fiber of his being. Only five months, and you know you’d love him for the longest run. 

 When people ask why you love him, you say, “Because I know he’ll never hurt me.”

 Then it happens.

 Tobias Hankel. 

 You loathe the name the moment you hear it. Accidentally burn yourself in the middle of making dinner when you receive a call from Penelope Garcia that Spencer’s been kidnapped by a serial killer. 

 In the moment, you panic. Almost causing a huge fire in your apartment building as you babble over the phone, asking Penelope where the hell your boyfriend is being held as if the word kidnapped meant a mark on a map.

 Then, you worry. You beg Penelope to let you in on the progress of his search. You pace in your living room. You read every true crime book on your shelf. You pray on each page that an answer will dawn on you and that you’ll have something of use to locate Spencer, as if you knew everything when, in reality, all you knew was that he’s held captive by some sick villain in your story. 

 You felt like every sidekick in a hero’s movie. Useless.

 When Penelope tells you that he’s on his way home, you’re never too tired or sleep-deprived to drive to his place. You waited hours outside his doorstep. You ignore the shivery breeze all over your skin, as you’d forgotten to change into something more weather-appropriate. You don’t worry about the unattended kitchen, the food you are excited to make. 

 You only think about one thing: be the first person Spencer sees when he comes home. 

 He arrives in the sixth hour, close to dawn. There's a gauze on his temple. His eyes are glued to the wooden floor.

 It’s a strength not to cry out from the sight. Worry courses throughout your body. But the relief that he’s made it home safe cancels the anxiety out of your head. All you want is to cradle him, wrap him in your arms to remind him of home, of safety, of being loved.

 You take Spencer into a tight hug. “I was so worried.” You whisper in his chest, breathing in his wake. He’s safe. Everything should be okay. “I’m glad you’re safe. I care about you so much.”

 Only for him to say, “You should go home. It’s late.”

 “I’m not gonna leave you by yourself.” You shake your head, pulling away to stare at his empty face. Your palm cups his cheek, and it’s cold. He doesn’t lean against it. He simply winces like your touch is dangerous.

 “I’m too tired to entertain a guest.”

 You.

 A guest.

 There’s a small sting inside your chest that you ignore don’t notice. Your heart feels similar to a teacup with a chip on its rims. Delicately painful to the touch. 

 You swallow the thick air in the middle of your throat, nodding as you bite the tears from the back of your eyes. “Alright, my love…” You softly enunciate, not wanting to sob at the sight of Spencer avoiding your image.

 The spark in him that you love so much is nowhere to be found. Only hatred and something you can’t figure out swim behind his irises. He doesn’t even reach for your hand. Doesn’t hum in delight like he always does when your skin caresses him.

 A prominent chip marks your being. As if you had been dropped from two floors down. 

 You shove the thought away. 

 You tell yourself that Spencer needs his space. Tell yourself that he needs time to process, to heal. You tell yourself it’s okay because Spencer’s had a long week. You tell yourself it’s not about you.

 You leave a kiss on his cheek, “Rest well. Call me if you need anything.” You walk down the stairs with a weight you don’t discern. 

 Spencer doesn’t say he will.

 And he didn’t.

 “It takes a while before I realize the chip he caused. And even then, I said, what is love if I never get hurt? What is love if there’s no struggle? Besides, there are moments when the chip didn’t hurt. Minimum effort filled the aching void. Simplest gestures blinded me. Sweetest words impaired my hearing. I wasn’t hypnotized or caught in a spell. It’s plain and simple. He had a hold on me. I chose not to break free.”

THE VOICES IN HIS HEAD.

 “Oh, here we go again.”

 You feel yourself physically shrink.

 Spencer rolls his eyes, pushing one hand into the depths of his right eye socket. Heavy sighs drool off his lips. The pounding in his head makes his vision blurry. And you’re convinced some type of voice tells him you’re no one important in his life. 

 You had asked him if he’d like to take a break from his files. After he’d said no, you carefully made a point that he hadn’t eaten anything the whole day. Then, you’re back to the now, where Spencer snaps at the mere mention of taking his fingers off the thin edges of the case. 

 A year into loving him. A year into being his solace—his words that now seem to be a lie—and you feel your entire body tense with every twitch and narrow of his eyes. 

 “Can’t you just leave me alone?” 

 Your chest tightens. A tug hitches your breath. A strong pressure sits over your lungs, deflating every air out without any chance of inflating back. 

 Since that night, Spencer changed. And you don't blame him. Completely understanding the stake of his trauma. Motivated to make his days better, to make him feel better. 

 The first month since that evening, Spencer didn’t text or call. He didn’t answer yours either. He isolated himself, and you’d heard from JJ that they even had a hard time talking to him. 

 So, you thought you weren't alone. That you weren't the problem. Because if everybody else can't reach him, then Spencer must want his solitude.

 You climb on your shelf. You patiently wait for him to want you again. You let it happen. Let him consume you despite the ache that gnaws in the back of your mind.

 And when he comes knocking on your door. You swing it so fast, eager to have him back in your arms. You lock the tingly feeling inside a vault. Because Spencer said he loves you that day.

 “I’m trying to do my job. It’s a difficult job, unlike yours, where you just scribble on paper or tap on your annoying keyboard and be done for the day.” 

 It cracks. Every fiber of your being cracks. The colorful memories are stricken with connected lines, slowly turning into a depressing gray. 

 You crack internally. A glass hit with force enough to break but not enough to shatter apart. Your skin holds up every broken part like a puzzle piece. 

 He’s just mad. He doesn’t mean it. You chant inside your head. You don’t know who you’re lying to.

 Spencer said he loves your writing. Love every word lined by your weaving hand. Love the stories formed from mundane moments and late nights. Love the emotions that brim within spaces and punctuation marks. 

 And you wonder if you should've kept not believing it. If you should've stayed appreciative but never convinced.

 “There are people’s lives at stake. I’m saving people’s lives, not filling their free time by reading your made-up stories.” 

 A target made to be maimed. Spencer aims at the center with precision. And you’re stricken with every shot.

 Your feet step back on their own. A subconscious pull for safety. Heart beats in fear, in ache. 

 “I’m sorry.”

 It dies in your throat. Your body shakes in so much pain you don't mind the way your heart and lungs shrink. Afraid that tears may fall, willing them to stay in place—in the back of your eyes where Spencer won't find them. 

 His migraines worsen. You tell yourself. 

 He’s still in pain. You remind yourself.

 His job is more important. You convince yourself. 

 Excuses after excuses. You make it a habit. Make excuses for him to distract the piercing agony.

 “W-why don’t I give you some space? Refill your cup?” You offer a smile like it’s a job you must carry successfully.

 Spencer gulps, hands in his pockets. “That would be great. Thanks.” He replies, getting back on his seat as if he hadn’t just cut through you like a sharp ax splitting a small trunk in half.

 You flinch when he shuts the door as soon as you step out of the room. Each piece vibrates in place, waiting for the last hit.

 “Litany of reasons come after that. I woke up each day with yet another excuse. A shameful attempt to sell what was rotten. Until I took a bite of it myself, and I tasted the sickening truth.”

THE DESTROYED SAND CASTLE.

 It's deafening. 

 The sound of you shattering into a thousand pieces. Sharp edges cut through every fabric of what you thought was true, what you thought was real. 

 “I love her.”

 But you're not her.

 You’re not the great Dr. Maeve Donovan. The woman who kept his migraines at bay, if not anything, cured them. The smart, beautiful, successful woman who rang every local pay phone in his vicinity. The woman that occupied his waking days. Days he went through next to you.

 Dr. Maeve Donovan. Spencer’s great love.

 And he’s never seen her in person until her last breath. But her voice is enough to steal him away from you. Enough for the color in Spencer’s skin to light back up after years of your failed attempts. Enough for Spencer to fall in love with her. Enough to stay in love with her despite her being gone in the wind. Despite you sleeping next to him every single night.

 She was enough. The idea of her is enough.

 “I love her.”

 Love. Present tense. Spencer loves her. 

 You don’t remember the last time he’d ever said those words to you. Don’t remember the genuine emotions that radiate along those words. Don’t remember the last time you’ve ever felt loved by him.

 “Hey…” 

 You walk past Penelope. You don't realize it until she catches your arm, distracted by the fatal explosion inside your chest. You can see the way your world crumbles like a sand castle kicked by the meanest bully.

 “Sweetie, what’s wrong? Did you not find Reid? Is he not in Hotch’s office?” Her eyes soften at the sight of your tears flowing like a steady river. “He’s safe, I promise. Just a little graze, you’ll see.” She tries to console you, rubbing the side of your arm.

 Just a little graze.

 Spencer has been carving little grazes on you for years, and the final blow causes your entire life to shatter in fine dust—close to nonexistence. 

 “Do you mind telling Spencer that there was an emergency, so I had to go?” Your voice breaks with each syllable, fighting the sobs from spilling out. It’s numbingly painful. Every part of you is sore and aching. 

 Penelope furrows her brows, “Sure, but is everything okay? What emergency?” She pries, no bad intentions, simply a sign of her kindness.

 You take a rough gulp. “I…” You look into her eyes, begging for her not to ask further. 

 She nods, giving you a soft squeeze on your arm and a warm smile. That's when you knew that she knew exactly the source of your nonstop tears. Maybe no longer than you did because you can see the anger in her eyes. At least she's on your side. And it's enough for you. “Call me if you need anything, love,” Penelope says, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “I’m always here for you. I’m always ready to be on your side.” She adds against your neck.

 And you're heading towards the elevator without a second thought.

 You hear your name as the doors close, lifting your head to find Spencer coming out of the bullpen. Penelope is true to her words, blocking him from reaching where you stand. His voice makes your insides churn. The sound of your name rolling off his tongue is sickening.

 Your body collapses on the floor. The sobs finally echo within the tight space. The tears endlessly flow in raging torrents between floors. You wrap your arms around your torso, holding yourself together.

 But it's way too late.

 Every piece of you has already shattered into messy pieces. Spread out in broken parts, unfit even if you tried to glue yourself back together. 

 Spencer has destroyed the castle you've built. The castle you made just for him. 

 You wonder if it's all for show. If Spencer chose to keep you just to avoid his boredom when Maeve’s unreachable. If he only tolerated you to fill her physical absence.

 But you should’ve known that it was a matter of time. His kisses were merely ghosts. His touch was stinging cold. His words were hallow. 

 The signs were clear in plain sight.

 Spencer stopped loving you a long time ago.

 "It's my fault." You say out loud, as if thinking it isn't painful enough.

 You made a choice. Each day, you choose to make up new reasons why Spencer is distant. You convince yourself that you aren't hurt by his cold glances. You tell yourself that it’s not torture if you love him.

 The elevator dings to the last floor.

 “Remnants of myself dried up inside that box.”

 Tongue runs over the softness of your lips as the final lines of your book approach with the same heart-wrenching ache. For the audience, at least.

 You flip the page, lifting your gaze. You scan the mass of teary eyes and silent sobs.

 There, you find two familiar faces. Penelope sniffs next to Rossi, who’s smiling proudly. The sweet blonde became your secret ray of sunshine. And the Italian mentored your way to a New York Times bestseller.

 "In that tight space. In the center of those four moving walls. I wished so much that he'd only said when. When everything felt too much. When I was unwanted. When he stopped loving me. I would've understood. Because I always did."

 What you don’t expect is the third familiar figure. It stands in the farthest back. A shadow if you don’t know any better. You take a deep breath.

 The next words are etched in your brain. The first words you’ve ever written in the making of the book under your palm. The words that still ring in your ears.

 “I must say, it’s not that I never learned. I learned so much that within the cracks of my broken self, I filled them with empty promises. Promises I never kept. Promises I broke because I believed I’d be fixed in a couple of days. I believed that the space between pieces of me would mend if I made the choice to stay.”

 His hair is unkempt. His eyes are as brown as the healthiest earth. His build is leaner. His face is worn out by horrors you don't dare imagine.

 Flashes of his pleas, his tears, his knocks on your door. You remember them like they were just yesterday. The pain that left a prominent indentation on your heart.

 Tattoos of pain adorn his face. Has he been there the entire time? Do you really care if he was?

 You lock eyes with Spencer, pausing for a moment. You let the past seep in. You unlock the vault of your broken pieces. Let them sing in agony. Let him hear the melody of your suffering.

 And then it stops. They vanish through the air of peace. The relief of moving on.

 You smile at him. The one that started everything.

 “It’s important to know that I always had a choice. And with that is the acceptance that each time I chose wrong.”

reid masterlist | masterlist

[lovebugism]

hi, bug! i’ve been one of your many avid readers for a long time but it’s my first time submitting a request for your summer fic fest 🥹 could i pretty please request for jealous!mean!eddie x ditzy/sunshine!reader where he sees her ex trying to win her back? ahhh thank you ily! ❤️

thank you for requesting angel, ily :D here's a sorta part 2 to this fic! — eddie doesn't realize he's been taking you on dates until your ex shows up (jealous!grumpy!eddie, friends to lovers, brief allusions to smut | 1.3k)

bug's summer fic fest (⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

When Eddie took you to Benny’s Burgers that Saturday evening after your heart got broken, he fully intended for it to be the last. That was until the next Saturday came around, anyway, and he found himself hungry and thinking of you. So, sharing a milkshake at the diner became a two-time deal, begrudgingly so.

The third time was a total accident, and he’d like that on record. Eddie had come alone that day. You made a stupid joke about him stalking you when you just happened to be there, too. (Both of you were secretly hoping the other would show, of course, but neither of you would admit it out loud.)

After that, it just started to feel like tradition. Eddie didn’t feel right going to the diner without you, so he never did. Instead, he buys you dinner once a week, sits with you in your designated booth by the window, and pretends all of it is something he has to do. Because it’s much easier than acknowledging that a lifetime of Saturday evenings with you still wouldn’t be enough.

“Can I have some of your fries?” you wonder through a distressingly large mouthful of cheeseburger.

Eddie scowls. “You said you didn’t want any.”

“I didn’t,” you shrug innocently then swallow down the too-big bite. “But yours look really good…”

“Too bad,” he scoffs and chucks a fry into his mouth. “Get your own.”

You slouch against the pleather seat with your features screwed in a gentle pout. It takes Eddie a record-breaking three seconds to slide his basket of fries across the table to you.

He huffs all dramatically about ‘cause he wants you to know he’s annoyed. You rise again, beaming anyway, because you know most of it’s just for show.

Eddie watches with his brows pinched in confusion as you methodically pick a single fry from the batch. His frown deepens when you dip it into your milkshake. 

“Don’t taint the ice cream, weirdo,” he protests, exhaling sharply through his nose in place of a laugh.

You giggle through your mouthful at the screwed look on his face. “It’s good!” you insist. “Here— Try one.”

Eddie grimaces when you pluck another fry from the basket and scoop it into the milkshake. He flinches when you threaten to hand the monstrosity over to him. “I think I’m good, actually.”

“Try it.”

Your giddiness makes him smile despite himself. He concedes with a heaving sigh. “This is the last time I take you anywhere, you know that?” he grouses, mostly muffled as you feed him the ice cream-covered fry.

You smile to yourself, wider than you realize, and swipe your palms together. You’re pretty sure he’s said that to you every time he’s brought you here — yet, for some reason, he still shows up at your doorstep at seven o’clock every week. 

“Yeah, I know,” you hum with a fond sigh. “But it tastes good, right?”

Eddie’s pretty face is swirled and largely emotionless. You can’t tell if he’s disgusted or amused. “It tastes like… a potato covered in chocolate ice cream,” he deadpans.

“Wow. You’re a genius, Eds,” you muse from across the table. You cross your arms along the top of it and fight back a smile. “Can’t believe it took you two whole years to graduate.”

“Don’t push it—”

He’s interrupted, first, by the overwhelming smell of cologne (pine and lavender, achingly so) — and then by a deep and obviously forced laugh. “It didn’t take you long, did it?” a strangely familiar voice wonders aloud, deep and smooth like honey.

Your head whips at the same time as Eddie’s, both of you wearing similar looks of confusion. A tall boy with nice hair and expensive clothes (an obvious King Steve clone) stands at the head of the table. Your table.

Josh O. from fucking Mr. Mundy’s.

You force a breathy laugh of palpable confusion. “What?”

“Nothing. I was just… wondering why you never called me back,” the boy shrugs and crosses his toned arms over his equally toned chest. His smile is lopsided and perfect; his teeth are slightly crooked and perfect, too. It’s fucking annoying.

“But I guess I have my answer now, right?” Josh O. from Mr. Mundy’s continues with another hearty chuckle. “Trying all the flavors of Hawkins, aren’t we, sweetheart?”

Eddie’s chest burns, and not in a metaphorical way. The red-hot embers there set his ribcage aflame, turning himself into a wildfire of withheld rage. His nostrils flare with it as his dark eyes flit from the asshole towering over the booth, to your cowering form, and then back to the asshole again. 

He seethes quietly and waits for you to stand up for yourself. The moment never comes.

“She didn’t call you back because you’re a fuckin’ douchebag,” Eddie blurts for the both of you, still chewing at the monstrosity he’s wildly unsure of — which he can barely taste now, through his blinding anger and all.

Josh O. from Mr. Mundy’s pretty smile ebbs only slightly. He squints his glittering eyes and long lashes, fluffy brows pinching softly in confusion. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?” he wonders with a cynical laugh.

Eddie’s answer is immediate and equally venomous. “The asshole taking your girlfriend on a date, tough guy,” he mocks.

The boy scoffs. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Were you sayin’ that the night you were tryin’ to cop a feel in your car?”

You shift uncomfortably in the booth. The cracked pleather sticks to your clammy skin. You feel the tension pressing on both sides of you until you can hardly breathe. “Eddie, stop—”

“—You know, it’s real impolite to touch people without permission,” Eddie continues despite your plea, features pinched in a faux-sympathetic pout. “Didn’t your mommy ever tell you that?”

Josh O. from Mr. Mundy’s scoffs, both amused and distantly muddled. He laughs softly to himself and steps back from the table. “You’re a fuckin’ freak, man,” the boy murmurs as he leaves.

“That’s funny,” Eddie calls after him anyway. “Your mom says that, too.” 

“Eddie.”

The boy relaxes in the booth once he’s gone. His rigid shoulders deflate slowly with a drawn-out sigh. He motions across the table with a pale, ringed hand. “Can I have my fries back, or are you gonna eat ‘em all.”

His effortless deflection is almost admirable.

“I’m gonna eat ‘em all,” you joke in an instant.

“Figured,” Eddie deadpans. He reaches for the basket in front of you and plucks a couple from the dwindling pile. He pinches them into his mouth, wipes his salty hands on his jeans, and pretends nothing ever happened.

You swallow hard and avert your gaze. You cradle the cold glass of your milkshake with one hand and stir at its melting contents with the other. “Thanks for that… By the way.”

“Don’t mention it,” Eddie shrugs. “Like, seriously. Don’t. It’s gonna make everything weird if you do.”

“Okay,” you nod firmly, then glance at the boy beneath your lashes. A mischievous smirk curls at the very corner of your mouth. “So… This is a date now, huh?”

“Shut up,” Eddie frowns and takes his fries back. “It just slipped out.”

“So what? That’d make this our… Fourth date? Fifth?”

“Fourth,” he corrects.

Your smile widens. “Most guys usually get laid by then, don’t they?”

Eddie scoffs through his mouthful. “Don’t threaten me with a good time, sweetheart,” he quips in an audibly sarcastic monotone.

The rest of the quote-unquote date plays out like normal. You make mindless conversation while you finish your burgers, sharing a milkshake between you while you steal Eddie’s fries. 

You don’t tell him that you wouldn’t mind if he felt you up in his van — that you’d happily let him, if he asked; and Eddie doesn’t tell you that he goes to sleep dreaming about it most nights. 

[yokumirumerafan]

can i ask for demon slayers reacting on discovering their feelings to y/n and confessing to her?

Demon Slayers Realizing Their Feelings & Confessing to Y/N 💕✨

🔥 Hashira Reactions

🟢 Gyomei Himejima (😭 Overwhelmed with Emotion)

Realizes his feelings through prayer and deep meditation.

“Y/N… I feel as though the gods themselves have placed you in my life.”

Confesses with sincerity and devotion, holding your hands gently.

Might cry while confessing, overwhelmed by how deeply he cares for you.

“Even if you do not return my feelings, I shall always cherish you.”

🟡 Haganezuka Hotaru (💢 Tsundere & Awkward)

Realizes his feelings after you defend his swords from getting insulted.

Spends DAYS grumbling and denying it before giving up.

Confesses aggressively like: “I LIKE YOU, OKAY? DEAL WITH IT.”

Forgets to actually wait for your answer and just storms off.

(Later peeks back, hoping you’ll say yes).

❤️ Rengoku Kyojuro (🔥 Loud & Passionate)

Realizes his feelings instantly—he’s not the type to be confused about love.

Watches you from afar with admiration, feeling his heart race.

Confesses with a booming voice: “Y/N! I HAVE FALLEN FOR YOU!”

Probably does it in public without hesitation.

“MY HEART BURNS FOR YOU LIKE A ROARING FLAME!” (dramatic but 100% serious).

💨 Sanemi Shinazugawa (💀 Denies It for the LONGEST Time)

“Tch. There’s no way I like them.” (Meanwhile, he’s glaring at anyone who talks to you.)

Gets jealous easily but won’t admit why.

The moment he realizes it, he freezes like his brain just short-circuited.

Confesses awkwardly, like: “Look, I—ugh—DAMN IT. I like you, okay?! Don’t make me say it twice.”

Blushes aggressively and looks away while waiting for your answer.

🌊 Giyuu Tomioka (🤨 Quiet but Sincere)

Takes a LONG time to realize his feelings.

He just thought you were "special" to him, but then Tanjiro was like: “Giyuu-san… I think you love Y/N.”

Confesses shyly, avoiding eye contact: “I… care for you. Deeply.”

Struggles to say the word ‘love’ but means every word.

“I don’t expect anything… but I wanted you to know.” (🥺💕)

💜 Shinobu Kocho (🦋 Teases You Until the End)

Realizes it quickly, but won’t admit it immediately.

Flirts with you constantly, watching your reactions.

Confesses playfully but seriously: “Oh my~ I think I’ve fallen for you. What shall we do about it?”

Smiles, but there’s a genuine softness in her eyes.

“You’re my favorite person, you know? I’d like to keep you by my side forever.”

🌿 Mitsuri Kanroji (💗 Pure & Excited)

Falls in love SO FAST.

Gushes about you to literally everyone before even realizing it herself.

When she finally figures it out, she screams into her pillow in happiness.

Confesses enthusiastically: “Y/N-CHAN!! I LOVE YOU SO MUCH!!”

Tackles you into a hug before even waiting for an answer.

🦋 Muichiro Tokito (😐 Oblivious Until It Hits)

Doesn't realize his own feelings for the longest time.

Notices that he thinks about you all the time and gets annoyed when others take your attention.

When he finally realizes it, he just stares into space like: Oh.

Confesses casually but sincerely: “I like you. I’d prefer if you stayed by my side.”

Doesn’t say much, but his gaze is so intense that you know he means it.

🐍 Obanai Iguro (👀 Shy but Devoted)

Realizes it when he gets irrationally protective over you.

Keeps his distance at first, scared of rejection.

Confesses awkwardly but sweetly: “I know I’m not… easy to love. But I want you to know that you have my heart.”

His face is completely red, and he can’t look at you.

“If you don’t feel the same, I understand. Just… please don’t leave.”

🗡️ Main Trio Reactions

🍃 Tanjiro Kamado (🥰 Gentle & Heartfelt)

Realizes his feelings gradually—notices how happy he is around you.

Blushes a lot whenever he thinks about confessing.

Confesses sincerely: “Y/N… I love you. You make my world brighter.”

Would probably write a heartfelt letter in case he messes up his words.

Holds your hands so gently, waiting for your answer with hopeful eyes.

⚡ Zenitsu Agatsuma (😭 Dramatic AF)

Falls in love with you IMMEDIATELY.

Screams and cries about his feelings to literally everyone except you.

Confesses in the most dramatic way possible: “Y/N, I CAN’T LIVE WITHOUT YOU! PLEASE MARRY ME!!”

Falls on his knees, clutching his heart like he’s dying.

If you say yes, he literally faints from happiness.

🐗 Inosuke Hashibira (😡 Clueless But Honest)

“Huh? Love? What’s that?” (Has no clue at first.)

Realizes he likes you when he wants you to be around all the time.

Confesses bluntly: “Oi. I like you. So you’re mine now, got it?”

ZERO hesitation. Just assumes you’ll say yes.

If you tease him, he’ll blush aggressively and yell: “DON’T MAKE IT WEIRD!”

[echantedtoon]

RUN AWAY BUT I'LL FIND YOU AGAIN

@hantengus-fuckass-clones

@hantenguclonesimp-minuszoha

This is a sorta sequel to my Yandere Demons And Brides posts. Basically just headcannons of the demons of Y/n managed to escape.

Warnings for yandere themes, kidnapping mentions, possibly death mentioned, panic attacks, Hairou shooting himself, entrapment, mentioned wounds and scars, regular demon Slayer content, Douma/Karaku/Enmu IS his own warning, possibly some innuendos, etc.

If any of these warnings upset you pls don't read. I will be including Daki/Ume/Zohakutan in the line up as part of Gyutaro/Hantengu's part but she/he will be strictly PLATONIC yandere!! Absolutely NO romance between her/him and reader!! And her parts will be minor. Nakime is short and like last post I left her Yn GN while the others I wrote as female Yn.

Buckle up guys. This is gonna be a BIG post with all the demons from the last two posts. Especially Hantengu's part.

KOKUSHIBO:

-How you managed to escape him? Who knows? He's Upper Moon One and that's nearly an impossible feat.

-After reclaiming you as his wife, he expects you to take your place as a dutiful wife should. Which is why he's very disappointed when you're just acting scared and always refusing his advances instead of greeting him like a good wife should be!

-He's only allowed to have you because Muzan allows him too for being so loyal and efficient. But that means he can't pause his duties less his master changes his mind. So maybe that's why you were able to find an opening to escape the house he trapped you in. The one he expected you to clean for him and come to take care of for your lives together now.

-He's not shocked by your want to escape him but he is certainly surprised when he discovers the desperation you had smashed a boarded window open he had made sure to tightly close off. The wedding ring he always forced you to wear around him discarded on the floor amongst the broken glass and boards of wood. He didn't think you were strong enough to get it open.

-He has a mixed reaction. He's disappointed that you managed to leave, frustrated too and annoyed, surprised as said you were able to get out, but mostly disappointed. He's not angry. He's got very good control of his anger, if anything he's just disappointed that you would rather try to escape. Deep down he's very upset with himself, a Deep sting of rejection like all those years ago stinging him.

-Its doesn't matter however. He's patient. And it's not like you'll be able to outrun him for long.

DOUMA:

-Remember how I said that you're best chance to get away from him is when he's still confused about his feelings in the last post? If you choose to escape then, then he won't bother. Not at first at least. He'd still be too confused about everything and not know what was going on to go after you until he finally realizes it or someone explains it to him. By then you might hide well enough to never see him again.

-However if you managed to escape after- Bravo! Somehow you managed to bypass Douma and his cult. Only one piece of advice to give you-

-RUN! Run as FAST and as FAR AWAY as you can! Because a Douma with emotions is actually emotionally and mentally unstable.

-When you aren't there and no one can tell him where you are, he feels scared and panicked like never before. He's almost hyperventilating as he tears apart the compound desperately calling your name ordering his cult to search the compound and comb through the nearby forest and mountainside for any signs of you to no avail.

-When he realizes that you left him he goes through a rage he's never felt before. It's so overwhelming that he kills(absorbs) any and all cult members he thinks even remotely causes you to get away. A bloody scene that for once might make Muzan pleased with his existence. He doesn't stop there he tears apart his room to satisfy his anger throwing and smashing anything he can get his hands on and leaving claw marks all over the walls.

-After he eventually comes down from his rage, he feels numb for a while before he starts crying. He's sobbing uncontrollably and curled up in your bed hugging your pillow to him. A wave of sadness and betrayal stabbing him in the heart over and over.

-Why did you leave him?! Did you not feel loved enough?! Did he not give into every whim you wanted?! He stays there unable to control himself or answer his questions until nighttime. Hope you have a good head start because as soon as sunset hits, he's coming after you and this time you wont ever leave him again.

AKAZA:

-To be fair he'd probably be the easiest demon to escape from outta all the upper moons. It's still NOT easy to do so but because Akaza doesn't harm women let alone the one he's in love with, he'll not do anything to actually harm you other than keep you isolated and trapped in one spot because he's afraid anyone would harm you if he let you wonder around.

-He allows you to go outside (only at night and with him so he can watch you-) since he knows being cooped up can't be good for your health. This might be your only chance.

-Someone might not see being cared for is a bad thing but Akaza seems to almost infantize you. You won't be able to do anything yourself. Want to cook? He'll do it! You can burn yourself! Want to go for a walk? He'll agree with him but halfway through he's seeing you limp with your bad leg and just call it quits before just carrying you all the way home. Want to bathe? Ok but he's waiting for you right outside in case you slip and hit your head! He doesn't allow you to do anything yourself and if he does, he's right there or just outside the door in wait.

-You're best chance of escape is just crawling through a window during the day and legging it as far as you can. If you do do this, expect him to have the biggest panic attack in his life when he sees the open window. Hyperventilating as he pictures the most horrible worst case scenarios of you running into a bear or rogue demon without him there to protect you. Or worse- WHAT IF YOU ENCOUNTER DOUMA?!

-Hope you know a good hiding place because once he catches you, you're never being left alone again.

NAKIME:

-You literally couldn't escape her with her teleportation powers but let's say you did for the sake of this post. Sneaking out by diving through an open doorway she opened for another demon or Muzan.

-Its was a surprise really you made it out. Like Kokushibo she's very good at controlling her anger and wouldn't really be anger even. She's just disappointed and a bit annoyed her Husband/Wife(whichever you wanna go by with the lady demons like last post) would still insist on being childish and trying to run away again.

-She'll be impressed you made it as far as you did but be weary of sudden doors whisking you back home to an annoyed demon 'wife' again.

GYUTARO (+PLATONIC UME/DAKI):

-You could've simply gotten away if you had boarded the train with your soon-to-be husband and never saw either demon again as they never left the Red Light District.

-Good luck escaping Daki's belt and the underground home they keep you in. You're too scared to fight back so you remain casual and polite out of fear (and to try and think of a way to escape).

-It won't be easy. They take turns in rotation. Daki loves dressing you up and chatting with her like always like nothing changed. Gyutaro will hold you to himself and feel relieved just having your warmth against him. If they aren't around then Daki has her talking belt minion guard you or she puts you in a belt for a while. It's rare for all three of them to be busy at once but it has happened more than one time. They don't think you can escape the hole in the ground anyways.

-Well you do. One day while they were all busy. Clawing your way through one of those thin tunnels until you reach the surface freed. You're alive. Dirty, a little thin, and scared out of your mind. But alive and free for now. You better get out of the E District because of you do stick around they'll catch you sooner or later.

-Both have a similar reaction when they come home and discovered you gone. Daki throws a massive half tantrum half crying fit. She tears her talking belt minion to shreds blaming it for your escape. It's ok. She'll make a better one later when she calms down but right now she'll cry and throw a fit while demanding her hyperventilating brother fix this as he usually does.

-Gyutaro has a similar reaction to a emotional Douma. He'll tear apart your underground home, and when he can't find you he'll fall into a hyperventilating mess of emotions. He's absolutely pissed off. That's his default emotion after all so it's his first reaction but he'll start falling into a mess of tears and crying as realization jabs into him. He knew he was ugly. He's so ugly even a practically blind girl would eventually run away from him. He's a blubbering crying mess like his sister for a while until both are calmed down enough to think with clear heads.

-Hope you were able to make it to that train because you don't have just one but TWO demons coming after you.

GYOKKO:

-Possibly the second easiest one to escape from. All ya have to do is yeet his pot off a cliff side or something but the problem is he'll quickly teleport back to you angry in another pot.

-Your best bet is to use flattery and his own ego against him and to your advantage. Tell him how honored you were to receive such beautiful pots from him. Listen to him sing his own praises. His guard will lower as you both talk to each other about his pots, art techniques you both use, and anything else involving art or himself in some way. Honestly if he wasn't a demon and kidnapped you, you probably wouldn't have minded the conversations.

-Play along as his little mise. Holding still as he carved your likeness into a vase or allow him to watch as you shakily work a needle and thread too closely. Eventually his guard will be down enough for you to escape.

-While he's not sun proof his pots are. While he's gone, turn the pot he uses to get inside your home upside down and place the heaviest object you can on it to help delay his entrance as you run into the daylight.

-Oh he'll be furious and throw a fit about you leaving and how you treated his precious vase, but he's more preoccupied by the fact that his precious muse has vanished into the wind. Luckily for you, he's the easiest demon to hide from. Just stay away from vases and any art studios for a long while. He's sure to be close by looking for you.

KAIGAKU:

-All I can say is good luck. While Kaigaku isn't the brightest, strongest, or emotionally adept demon he's definitely not someone you can easily trick or escape from. You can't get more than a few yards away at most before he notices you walking away from his distracted form and barks a demand for you to return to him immediately!

-Doesn't help he also keeps you in the Infinity Castle where lots of demons watch you with hunger. They only don't eat you because you're around Kaigaku's side at all times and no one wants to tussle with Upper Moon Six, especially if it was Kokushibo who brought him in. Kaigaku is smug about having you always paraded around on his arms.

-You have to use the same tactic for him as you did Gyokko. Compliment him subtly and every once and a while. Keep it casual however. Doing it too much with cause him to get suspicious and catch onto your plan. However a compliment here and there that sounds like a genuine observation will boost his ego and slowly but surely let his guard little by little down around you. To the point he leaves you in a room he marked as his own when training with Kokushibo.

-He's absolutely terribly shocked and PISSED when he discovers you gone and later learns that you had taken Nakime off guard by diving into an open doorway as she wasn't looking. Oh now he's not just pissed, he's ENRAGED!! You'd better run, run, run. Because as soon as the sun goes down a cursing black rage filled shadow is hunting you down even if it takes him all eternity.

HAIROU:

-(again couldn't find a gif of him) Outta all the lower moons Hairou would be the hardest to escape from. Not only can he teleport using shadows, but he has guns, and summoned shadow wolves on his side.

-He can get overwhelmed by his emotions and have a panic attack from the PTSD and end up shooting himself. That would be the ideal time to flea, when he's too overwhelmed by emotions to really take in his surroundings and know what's going on. You have to be quick though because he can recover pretty quickly after the gunshot.

-If you're somehow able to escape from him some other way he's having the worst panic attack of both his human and demon existence. It'll take him all night and many rounds of ammo before he's actually able to get his head together enough to really get a hand on the situation.

-You must get creative as you run however. He'll track you down using his shadow wolves like a pack stalking down a deer.

HANTENGU (+ CLONES):

-Hes actually the easiest Upper Moon to escape from. It's just a matter of timing and how you execute it is all.

-You're best bet is to use his own delusions against him and do your plan when he's by himself without any clones present to stop you. Act sweet to him. Tell him you're glad you're 'husband' is home and that you were going to run out and grab him something to make for dinner and to just make himself comfortable. He's so delusional and thinks you're just being a sweet 'wife'(nevermind you two aren't married) that he believes everything you say.

-Wont even put up a fuss as you smile casually and wave at him before walking out the door on your way to town to 'buy ingredients' only you skip right past the town and you don't walk you freaking RUN!! Run, run, run as fast and as far as you can before he realizes that you aren't coming back.

-He's so delicious that he doesn't suspect anything. In fact he takes a nap and wonders about the house for hours waiting for you when you don't show up once it's night time is when he knows somethings up. He doesn't believe you ran away however. No. To the day he died Hantengu believes his poor wife was abducted by another demon or slayer.

-Hope youre far away because he's ripping himself apart and sending his clones out to search for their poor 'wife.'

SEKIDO:

-He may not look it but he's very concerned about their 'wife.' He doesn't know what happened to you and he doesn't care. He wants you back and he wants you back NOW!!

-First thing he does is yell at Hantengu for twenty minutes about stupid he was to let you go by yourself all defenseless and weak. Next he's ripping up himself and Karaku to get the others and ordering them in the scariest most threatening tone ever to get out there and FIND YOU! Even if it was the last thing they did.

AIZETSU:

-Crying, blubbering mess. He knows you weren't happy with them but did you have to run away? Did they do something wrong? No. It must be because something awful happened to you because they weren't there. You'd never run away from them!

-Most emotional outwardly and on the verge of an anxiety attack the entire time they're looking for you. Once they find you(if they do) he's holding onto you and sobbing into your dress about how sorry he is.

UROGI:

-Man is molting in anxiety. He's making panicked turkey noises while he's looking for you. He thinks it's a game at first thinking you're just playing chase but when it becomes clear you're actually GONE he's running around like a headless chicken panicking.

-The most likely to spot you from up above so be sure to stick close to trees and outta sight because if not then you'll find yourself swooped up by a freaked out harpy and flown back to the others...that is if KFC man finds you at all.

KARAKU:

-Is surprisingly the only one that's thinking clearly. He's the clone of Relaxation so he's going to be the calmest one in this situation. But he's still panicked and scared like the others desperately searching for you.

-In a moment of arguing the others blame him for you possibly running away with how he always acts towards you. He has six other clones yelling at his face making him feel very guilty and wonders if it was his fault. He promises to make it up to you and never do it again once they find you. IF they find you.

ZOHAKUTAN:

-THE most likely to find you. He comes out in a last resort when Hantengu and the five other clones are unable to find you. Forces Sekido to absorb the others and let him take over searching with his wood dragons. He can just take shelter and continue looking for you during the daytime with them too.

-Eliminates any and all obstacles in his path until he finds you and entraps you in the mouth of one of his dragons before dragging you back home to everyone's relief. Be prepared for an earful and to be under close observation for the rest of his time alive because Zohakutan will be coming out more often after this.

URAMI:

-Very resentful that Hantengu was dumb enough to let you wonder off by yourself and like Sekido he'll spend a few minutes yelling at him for it too before joining in on yelling at Kataku and going to search for you.

-Be prepared for him to be out a lot more now too to guard you and make sure you don't try anything like this again.

KYOGAI:

-Like Nakime it's going to be nearly impossible for you to escape someone that can teleport to you and shift the mansion around to keep you from escaping. You're best bet is to crawl or jump out the nearest window at the first opportunity.

-Kyogai can't go far from his mansion because that's where most of his power lies so your best chance of truly getting away from him is so flee as far from the mansion as possible. Depending on if it's night or how hurt you are from jumping out the window he might catch up to you.

-He's not the worst demon to be trapped with but his desperation for genuine connection makes him certainly very possessive and he isn't willing to let you go that easy.

ENMU:

-How did you manage to get out of the personal train car he locked you in? He's literally a part of the train and can control how much freedom you have.

-Turns out insomnia is one helluva drug.

-Enmu is not easily fooled. He will not be fooled by flattery, tricks, or challenges. And you're certainly not as strong as him. The best bet is the element of surprise. Pretend you're having one of your naps. He'll sometimes forget your body doesn't work with sleep like a regular person, so when you suddenly tackle him out of the way as soon as he opens the door, he's taken off guard. Take this chance and RUN!!

-Stay away from train stations and trains. You'll probably be able to avoid him as his main body is literally infused with a train. I'm fact stay away from train tracks and towns with stations all together. You never know if a train whistle is just Enmu around the corner.

[writingwisterias]

WAITER! WAITER! Need me different era leons reacting to reader starting sobbing during rather chill argument. Idk if this make sense😭😭😭 i mean like if theres no fights or loud talking during the argument, leon is just complaining and being real abt it but it hurts reader bc they are sensitive and they start crying

HIII!

I actually love this, I'm the type of person to cry out of anger and super sensitive LMAO! I hope you enjoy <3

Warnings: Arguments, comfort, GN! Reader

RE2:

You weren't really sure where the argument had come from at first, the day had seemingly turned out okay at first until you both got home

Maybe he was just overwhelmed from adjusting back to normality after the 2 years training

But it didn't mean he needed to pick at your outfit or just get annoyed at you in general

You tried not to let it get to you but after his 3rd comment you broke

His complaints weren't meant to be taken to heart but he forgot about how sensitive you were. How you haven't been through what he has

He's quick to change his tone, one that's more soothing and comfortable as he eases you.

Whispering sweet nothings in your ear, pressing you as close to him as he can in a hug to ensure you calm down with scent of him

He will apologize don't worry

RE4R:

It was barely an argument more of a disagreement over chosing the film to watch

He wasn't listening to why you wanted to watch your comfort film. Why today was hard so watching the horror he has lined up was not good

It was a short comment, one that you wouldn't have been bothered about normally but today you felt extra fragile

When he hears your sniffles he freezes in place it goes straight to his heart

He's smothering you with his love and affection because he feels bad, the comfort film is on and you won't be leaving his arms until he is sure you are okay

Infinite Darkness:

He's stressed at work, it's not his fault he's slightly short with you

And it's not your fault you didn't read his tone very well

He wasn't angry at you rather complaining about an ache he couldn't shake since his last mission

When offering ways to help he snapped saying that he could deal with it on his own

you didn't take offense to it understanding his need to be independent but it struck a nerve causing you to tear up

It only made it worse when he started to apologize and cuddle like you deserved it

You did. It wasn't your fault but somehow you wired your brain to think you made it worse for him

When you start sobbing he's moving faster to make sure you calm down, he knows your over reaction also isn't your fault and he should know to word his sentences differently

Damnation:

He didn't really notice that there was an off tone in his voice so he also didn't notice you were upset until he heard your sniffles

I think he would be confused at first a bit reluctant to give you the affection you needed to calm down but he's genuinely confused

He wasn't angry just annoyed at something and you are acting like he's stabbed your family member

Eventually he does comfort you and it's a long intimite comfort session.

I'm talking cuddling and running his fingers through your hair. He would apologise as well, its only a small gruff one but he knows your reaction isn't your fault.

He find it's cute how much you care, despite it being overwhelming sometimes.

RE6:

Again he relieves Raccoon City again almost within the events of the game

He keeps most of his composure until he gets home

You get the brunt of his anger and frustrations. Having to tip toe around him as he relives trauma.

It's not until you see he only acts this way with you that you snap. You can't help it you are angry with how he's treating you

I feel like hell attempt to come up with some bs that he's just that comfortable with you he shows a different side but he's not even falling himself

Promises to work on it and you have some understanding of his situation

You will get kisses and cuddles after

Vendetta:

He's a mess, you know it, I know it

So he's going to be snappy,short or even just not himself

He's really struggling at this point so when you do snap I think he's going to respond negatively at first

As he sees you grow more sensitive he will start to feel bad and it's actually his apology that makes you cry

The idea that even in his struggles he still cares about what you think is enough to make you cry

He's sorry for being a dick but also just confused at how him simply admitting that is enough for you to cry

Death Island:

Not in a harsh way but he would start to laugh, only because he finds it so cute

He's reassuring you that he's not actually angry his tone just doesn't always match his words or the joke doesn't come out the way he wanted it

His laugh makes you laugh and helps calm you down

I imagine he's very good at distracting you from everything that made you upset. A stable wall for you to use in order to calm down.

[nobodyknowsimalesbian777]

Sunshine (pt 3) - Caitvi x reader

NSFW tags - sexual content, sub!vi, switch!caitlyn, switch!reader, threesome, very little plot, not proof read, 18+

authors note: i had no idea which direction i wanted to go with this, so i just decided we're fucking them both 😇 hope you guys love, im hoping to start either a sevika or ellie williams series, so keep an eye out for a poll!! ----------------------------------------------------------

caitlyn and vi both followed you, their confused cries working only to annoy you

you felt caits slender hand grip your wrist, whipping you around to look at them

it was such a confusing rush of emotions, seeing the two women together

you liked them both, the time you had spent working against them didn't change that.

vi's brows were furrowed, looking hurt and guilt, as expected

but caitlyn... you couldn't recognize the look on her face. it wasn't anger, or sadness, it was something else entirely

you gazed at her, deep in thought. she almost looked.. curious? your suspicions were confirmed when you felt her lips lock again with yours,

initially, you let out a gasp, moving to push her away. however, you saw what was to gain from the situation.

you stood in a room with two beautiful women, who had both hurt each other, and you, beyond words.

anyone else would be dreading the situation, but where there was pain, there had once been love.

every person in the room had slept together, albeit at different times.

you all seemed to realize at once that this didn't have to be a painful memory for any of you,

in fact, you all craved quite the contrary.

now you were here, one hand wrapped around vi's throat, the other going to work on caitlyns clit

it wasn't often that cait let you see her like this, she liked to maintain a dominant front,

but you had grown to know exactly what it took to get her needy

of course, vi was always willing to recieve. especially from you

your strap sunk deep into vi's cunt, your hips slapping against her ass

cait had one arm on the crook of vi's knees, holding them up to the tattooed girls chest to give you the best angle

blue and pink hair fanned out in front of you as you pleasured the two girls,

the strap hit your clit perfectly, and when vi turned and pulled caitlyn into a very desperate kiss, you thought you were done for

the two woman made out, hands roaming all over each other as their moans mixed together

your actions were pulling them both close to the edge,

vi's whines becoming more apparent as she watched caits eyes roll back, release taking over her

caits body writhed as her orgasm ripped through her, you were immensely satisfied to have gotten her off with your hand alone,

of course, your celebration didn't last long,

caitlyns deft fingers quickly found vi's clit, rubbing circles as you continued pounding into the pink-haired woman

your joint assault to her cunt was enough to push her over the edge, white slick coating your hips, and caits fingers

both women laid panting as you pulled out, carefully undoing the straps and dropping your strap on caits plush bed

two set of hungry blue eyes trailed you as you grabbed two washcloths, sitting down to clean up the women in front of you

cait and vi looked at each other, sharing an odd look before moving towards you

vi's hands trailed up your thighs as she placed tender kisses on your neck

it wasn't long before you realized her ministrations were to distract you as caitlyn worked at your robe,

her hands carefully pulled the strings, both women watched as your robe fell,

both sets of eyes wandered across your bare body, and you were immediately overwhelmed as their hands grabbed at anything they could reach

caitlyn worked to lean you back into her, your back pressing against the warmth of her chest

long fingers drew down, pinching and rolling your nipples, her eyes fell on your face as she took note of what made you react more strongly

vi nuzzled her face between your thighs as your hands quickly gripped her hair, guiding her where you needed

caitlyn mumbled sweet words of encouragement in your ear as she watched vi go down on you like a woman starved

poor girls brows were all knotted up, her little moans vibrating perfectly against your clit

the women's work was bringing you close to your climax,

and caitlyn sucking a blossoming hickey into your neck was what finally pushed you over the edge

vi tirelessly continued her ministrations, riding you through an incredibly intense orgasm,

both women watched as your body tensed and writhed, coating vi's face in your slick

after they cleaned you up, you all laid out on the bed. a comfortable silence fell over the room, heavy breathing being the only sound you heard

you knew this might not last. more, you knew caitlyn and vi could choose to leave you at any moment

but in this second, with your chest rising and falling as two beautiful women lay on either side of you, you knew it would've been totally worth it.

----------------------------------------------------------

im sorry this took so long!! i had so many ideas and i honestly was floundering when i started this fic. i hope it lives up to all of the hopes you had for it. i really loved this series, and i thank the anon that sent in the first request! as always, i adore requests and feedback, and i hope you all feel comfortable sending me any and all ideas you have!!

tag list : @honeygiii123 @vyvvycg @ilvv1zmpz