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chuluoyi · 1 year ago

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the secret wife

- nanami kento x reader

follow the first years’ misadventures as they find out that apparently, the infamous 7:3 sorcerer is also a dutiful and loving husband in private!

genre/warnings: crack, fluff, the first years are simply chaotic, an attempt at humor, gojo cameo (he’s so insufferable), mentions of pregnancy, nanami being the best husband there is

note: based on an anon's suggestion, this is a spin-off to love entries' wife (so gojo is married to love entries reader naturally!) this is full chaos and crack omg so sorry and isn't proofread bc i’m kinda tired so pls forgive any mistakes and my dry humor :')

general masterlist

On one fine, sunny day, which was supposed to be a calm and relaxing afternoon...

“Hello? Yuji—”

Megumi could've sworn, they weren't usually this nosy.

“Gojo-sensei! It's urgent!”

Call it indulgence, because Nobara's curiosity just got the better of her.

“Oh? What's—”

“Does Nanamin have a wife!?”

And Yuji... well, he just needed answers, because the three of them were now in the ‘Mom and Baby’ section of department store, having just witnessed a monumental sight of their esteemed mentor, Nanami Kento—

—with a remarkably stunning woman hanging onto his arm.

“Huh?” Gojo's confusion was evident from the other line. Oh, yeah. Yuji had decided to cut to the chase and call him too, hoping for a swift clarification.

Okay, so why were the trio—plus Gojo on the speakerphone—hiding behind a pillar just to spy on Nanami and his very possible wife? Let us rewind 30 minutes before...

Yuji considers himself to have an exceptional eye and taste for women.

And 30 minutes ago, when he fell on his butt on the rough, hard asphalt in the jammed Shibuya crossing after accidentally getting shoved by the crowd, and encountered a kind, vivacious older woman—you, who extended a hand to help him up, he was even more convinced of that.

“Are you alright, Itadori-kun?” your soft voice entered his ears, catching him off-guard, and Yuji was certain of two things then.

One, that you were just like a literal angel descended from skies above, all dolled up and pretty with your flowy sundress.

“Ah, uh—” he stammered, eyes darting everywhere and anywhere at once as his palm started sweating after clasping your hand. “I-I am…”

And two, for the life of him, he had no idea who you were.

But it registered late in his mind to ask as he was busy controlling his ragged breathing and instant crush, and before Yuji knew it, you graced him with another kind smile and went on your way.

And did he feel so miserable afterwards.

. . .

“She’s sooo hella pretty, Fushiguro! And she knows me! Me!”

Megumi sighed, eyeing his friend in disgust. Truthfully, all he wanted was to return to the dorms and collapse onto his bed, and not listen to his friend’s incoherent ramblings.

"You sure you weren't imagining things?" Nobara questioned with slight irritation. "After you embarrassed us in front of Gojo-sensei's wife a while back, please think more before you act."

"I'm not, I swear! She said my name!"

"Itadori, can you please just not?" Megumi grumbled, having enough of this ruckus. "I want to walk back in peace."

And so tucking away his pout, Yuji walked in silence just as his best friend asked, and he was really going to leave it at that when suddenly he caught the sight of a familiar pristine coat and the sundress from earlier. “Oh?”

"Isn't that Nanami-san?" Nobara also spotted him, her eyes widening when she saw you, who was happily beaming as well as Nanami's light chuckle. "And wait, who is—?"

"That's her!" Yuji burst out, pointing decisively in your direction. "That's who I was talking about!"

Oh, no. Megumi dreaded it already. He could already see the utter catastrophe—

"I'm going after them!"

"Wait, Itadori! Me too!"

Too late. Before he could stop them, Nobara and Yuji had followed the pair. Reluctantly, Megumi trailed behind them too, albeit wearing a vexed scowl. Yet despite his misgivings, he couldn't deny that the things he saw over the next 30 minutes were genuinely unexpected.

Nanami consistently led you to a quieter spot away from the bustling crowd, his hand holding yours firmly. He would occasionally throw you a smile, or when you didn’t hold hands, then he’d wrap an arm around your waist. And to the trio's bewilderment, they also saw him tenderly brushing his lips against your head while on the escalator.

Soft and gentle. It was a side of Nanami Kento they had never witnessed—either with anyone else or even himself.

The two of you ventured through home appliances, visited food stalls, and eventually... the ‘Mom and Baby’ section.

"Do you want to rest for a bit?" Nanami's voice held a touch of concern as his hand settled on the small of your back, and seeing that, Nobara positively swooned.

"Oh, no, I'm fine," you responded with a reassuring smile. "Let's head over there. I'd like to see that next!"

Watching you and Nanami meticulously going through strollers and cribs like a pair of would-be parents was apparently too mind-blowing for Yuji and Nobara, leading to the decision to call Gojo right then and there. And, as they say, the rest was history.

"Last I heard, Nanami wasn't married," Gojo answered resolutely. "If he is, then it's the ultimate betrayal because he never told me!"

"But we see him with a woman! At mother and baby care section!"

Gojo hummed in thoughtful manner. "Okay, students. Now I'm tasking you to see this to the very end! Keep me on the line!"

With that, Operation: Uncover Nanami's Wife was officially underway, and frankly, the way the three of them were clumsily tailing the 7:3 sorcerer made Megumi want to facepalm. How was it that Nanami hadn't noticed their rather conspicuous attempts at all?

Now you were fawning over baby clothes, cutely trying not to squeal as you picked a little blue and yellow overalls. "Kento! Kento! Look, how cute!"

And all of them were floored once again when the expression on his face softened, as a warm smile adorned his lips. "Yeah, they are."

"Is she pregnant? She doesn't look it..." Nobara remarked, squinting and frowning, still watching the two of you like a hawk.

"Or maybe they're shopping for someone else?" Megumi suggested, earning teasing grins from Yuji and Nobara, to which he quickly rolled his eyes, as they chorused, "Looks like you're curious too!"

After a while, you moved from the clothes to sections stocked with mother's necessities. Yuji leaned against one of the racks, pressing his ear against it, with Nobara and Megumi crowding behind him, attempting to catch a snippet of your conversation with Nanami.

"I think we should get some heat packs and these pillows—"

"Oh, Kento! You're such a worrywart, I still won't need them for a few more months—"

"Wait, what?" Yuji whipped his head around in surprise, causing Nobara, who was leaning on him, to stumble and inadvertently collide with the racks.

"Eh? Huh!?"

Unfortunately, the racks weren't sturdy enough, and the force caused them to sway dangerously. Nobara, sensing her imminent fall, instinctively grabbed Yuji's arm to steady herself. However, he got tugged instead and their combined weight exacerbated the situation, leading to the racks quickly toppling over and a deafening commotion ensued—

Crash!

"Careful!" Nanami immediately pulled you behind him, a protective arm around your shoulder, sensing your shock from the sudden crash. He was on high alert, expecting some sort of attack of cursed spirits, but instead, he was met with the most astounding sight of the bickering culprits amidst the fallen racks.

"Kugisaki! What are you doing!"

"You dumbass! Why didn't you stop me from falling?!"

"Itadori-kun...?" Nanami called out in utter disbelief, his mind couldn't fathom as to why the first years were here. However, his attention quickly shifted to Megumi, who was seething and sending his friends a glare so hard it could drill a hole into them.

Then, the boy swiftly fixed himself into a low bow in front of him, ashamed, disregarding Yuji and Nobara's groans altogether. "Nanami-san, I'm very, very sorry on their behalf."

"What are the three of you doing here?" he inquired, and poor Megumi seemed at a loss, huffing as he nervously rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of where to even start.

Meanwhile you were full of worry for the fallen kids. "Oh my gosh, are you alright?"

For the second time today, you tried to help Yuji to stand on his feet, and this time, he really had a good look over you.

It wasn't exactly noticeable due to how loose your dress was, but now he could see that under it, your belly was slightly rounded—an unmistakable baby bump.

Amidst his shock and pain, Yuji couldn't bring himself to take your hand as he inadvertently let this slip, "N-Nanamin! You knocked her up!"

Nanami blinked. You gaped. Megumi and Nobara went pale in sheer horror, ready to murder their friend on the spot for his extreme height of rudeness.

“Itadori-kun,” Nanami cleared his throat then, and if he was offended, then he chose not to show it. “First of all, I’m sorry for not introducing you sooner. This is Y/N, my wife, and yes,” his tone hardened slightly, “She’s carrying our first child.”

“S-so you are married!”

“Yes, that was what I—”

“What the hell?! NANAMIIII!”

Oh, the freaking phone. After his fall, Yuji’s phone ended up on the floor, and of course, Gojo did hear all of the entire madness, evident from how his voice blared from the phone.

Nanami frowned, unwittingly reaching out towards the phone. “Who—?”

“NA-NA-MI!" Gojo screeched in righteous exasperation, and the former immediately pulled away from the phone with a cringe. “How could you?! I invited you to my wedding! Are you a hermit or something—how could not tell anyone!? Didn’t you say I can officiate—”

“I said no such thing. Please refrain from saying outrageous things, it’s both annoying and misleading,” Nanami stressed, growing more irritated by the mere sound of Gojo's whining voice and feeling his patience waning rapidly.

"Aren't we friends?! How—!"

"Should I find you instigate one more of this... shenanigans with the kids, I won't hesitate to report you to Yaga and your wife," he interjected then with clear irritation, and right that second, Gojo shut himself up.

Yuji, Nobara and Megumi couldn't help drawing that one conclusion in wonder: So, that's what Gojo-sensei is afraid of.

Nanami swiftly ended the call with a flick of his finger, returning the phone to the still mystified Yuji. Turning back to the trio, Nanami's irritation simmered as he glanced at the mess of broken goods on the floor, as well as noticing the approaching clerks.

"You three..." Nanami started, his voice rising slightly, unfaltering even as the three of them flinched. "Do you realize what you've done? Are you so idle that you can ditch your assignments?"

"Kento, don't be too harsh," you rebuked, placing a hand on his arm with a frown on your face. Nanami sighed, looking over the situation once again. It was a whole rack of baby necessities destroyed; plates, glasses, and whatnot scattered across the floor.

Nobara bit her lip in anxiety. “Oh my god, who's going to pay for all this damage?” She could already imagine the staggering amount this mess would cost. This is worth millions, anyone can go bankrupt.

There was only one person who can and will. Immediately, both Nanami and Megumi turned to her with a shared resolve.

"Gojo," Megumi blurted.

"He will be charged for everything," Nanami added with spite.

Epilogue

"You just love those kids, don't you, Kento?"

That night, when both of you were ready for sleep, Nanami had one hand caressing your still growing belly, and you teased him with a chuckle.

"Huh?" your husband looked at you in mild confusion as he stopped stroking you. "What do you mean?"

You giggled again. "You said to put it on Gojo's name, but in the end, you were the one who covered the damages first."

Nanami huffed lightly. "That's because I can't get the kids in trouble. But mark my words, I'll make sure Gojo pays up later, by force if I need to." He made a face when he remembered just what a massive bill it was. "That's too much money to be spent carelessly. We have our child and our future to consider."

"You're always like that," you sighed fondly, taking his hand and placing it back to the swell of your belly. "Always on the first line of defense for the students." Your smile widened. "It makes me think... just how lucky our kid will be with you as their father."

"On the contrary, I'm counting my blessings that they'll have someone as soft as you for their mother," your husband retorted with a smile, kissing your temple. And your heart melted into a puddle by his affectionate gesture.

"That's too sweet... ah, yeah," suddenly, you were reminded of a critical thing. “Kento, have you ever considered telling everyone else that we're married? At least to people at school?”

Nanami always wanted privacy for safety reasons most of the time, and you understood that, but seeing that Gojo and the first years knew already, you thought it might be the best time to let everyone know.

"I honestly don’t see the need to, why?"

"People like Gojo are confused—"

Your husband rolled his eyes then. "Don’t worry, dear. People like Gojo exist to spread the word so we don't have to."

#nanami kento x reader #jjk fluff #nanami x reader #jjk x reader #kento nanami x reader #nanami kento #jjk x reader fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #nanami kento fluff #kento nanami #jujutsu kaisen #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff

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inkskinned · 2 years ago

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no, actually, where is the whimsy?

my ex had a best friend named larry who asked me once: what do you think comes after irony?

we were at the bar where larry worked. it was a quiet night, and he'd hopped over to sit with us on the patron side. i swirled the lemon around my limoncello martini.

earnest positivity, i said, while my ex said, art self-destructs.

i stared at my ex. he stared at me.

his argument was the cinemasins argument: look how bad media is becoming! look at the loopholes and the dumb shit!

it was roughly 2011. galaxy print was still in. at the time, i had a favorite shirt that was a wolf howling at the moon. it got ripped in half in the wash and i honestly still mourn it. i dressed like effie stonem, because everyone did. and irony was the name of the thing. men liked MLP "ironically." the internet liked the kind of crass, "anti-mainstream" vibes of things like fuck romance, touch my butt and buy me pizza. we put cats in sunglasses everywhere, which was because we only liked things in irony.

and media had the same vibe in it: anti-hero white men would be "hard to love" and then storm off the scene. nobody was just earnestly trying to save the world: they were jaded, angry, unoriginal. mad you even asked them to try to help.

my ex ends up not being wrong. cinemasins becomes super popular. a lot of people start viewing media with this lens that is the cruelest, most jaded depiction. it's wrong for your character to have unexplained powers, even if the entire movie is about how strange it is she has unexplained powers - that is still considered a "loophole." characters make thoughtless, panicked choices? loophole. characters are actually kind people, despite hardship? loophole. features a woman doing literally anything without assistance? loophole. movies become hyper-aware of scrutiny, and now irony rules the media.

which means you go to a movie, and the character has to turn to the screen and say "beats me!!" or one of the side characters has to have some kind of quip like "are you seriously telling me that you think this is normal?" because nothing can happen in earnest. like a sitcom laugh track, we now anticipate the fourth-wall break: the moment that the media acknowledges it is telling a story. the media has to apologize for itself, or else someone like my ex rolls their eyes.

but here's the thing: i wasn't wrong either.

the difference might be that i am (and always have been) so soft-hearted that any crack in the light of this world will spear me into the ground. and i was the poet in the relationship. (he thought that was the same thing as being naïve and stupid). i was making things daily. i knew how all of us artists are driven by some strange desire to evolve. he notably liked to critique art, not to create it.

so yes, i've made things that are bitter and angry and even ironic. i've made long, sharp poems with all capital letters, and i've made poems about how the silence stretches out like a song. someone wrote once that we will spend our whole lives just circling the place we grew up. i think it's more that we spend our whole lives trying to remake a home. i think it's that as we age, it becomes less exciting to build the castle on the beach - we become aware of erosion, of windforce. we realize what we really want is to come home to our dog, castle or not.

and while art in the foreground is mired in white male violence and irony, and aggression, and not taking anything seriously - i don't think that's true of all art. i think more and more artists are leaning in to the things we love. the world has changed so much. they have taken so many things from us. the only thing we have left is love. at the bottom of the moving box - all we get is the faint sense that we have to appreciate what little we've got. i can't enjoy this stuff ironically anymore: what room do i have for irony? if it makes me happy, that is an amazing thing. there are so few happy places left for me. i want to be happy because of how leaves shiver beside each other like nestling birds. i want to be happy because of the color pink, and how magenta doesn't exist. i have spent so much of this life suffering, i have earned my right to a gentle ending. if nothing matters, i get to assign meaning to the nothing. i get to create meaning. i am an artist first and foremost, which means creation is my thing.

where is the whimsy? wherever i fucking put it. because if this is my last fucking chance to do any good in this world - i want to do it earnestly. i want to write things that make you happy. that make people feel heard and seen. what comes after irony has to be positivity.

it was close to my 21st birthday. in 7 years, i would end up writing a book about this relationship, which is hopefully coming out somewhere around May 2024. i come back to this bar scene in my memories a lot. i keep thinking of how pale my ex was. the look that crossed his face. how i looked back at him. how for a moment, both of us couldn't recognize the other person. like the gulf between us was a suddenly wide and cavernous thing. like we were alien to each other. he never took my opinion seriously, and he always seemed surprised whenever his manic-pixie-dream-girl ever broke free of the plot. like in the whole time we were together, i wasn't human enough.

this knowledge: where he said nothing comes after, my only instinct was what comes after is love.

#spilled ink #writeblr #this is a real story lol #looking back i liked larry as a person SO much more than my ex hollyyyyy shitttt #compulsory heterosexuality will do you DIRTY #edit to correct effies name my apologies to effie and effies family

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forlix · 1 year ago

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· . ˚ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞

— the little mannerisms you pick up from the members of stray kids over the course of your relationship.

words・3.7k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / genres��fluff, humor, borderline crack, intentional lowercase, established relationship(s) / warnings・minsung’s are suggestive, touch of anxiety in felix's, jeongin's is lowkey gross LMFAO

a/n・massive shoutout to @/http.dwaekkii on tiktok for their edits about the boys' habits, which i consulted for chan, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin (and to @astraystayyh for beta reading hehe. what would i do without u). these were sooooo fun to write, hope u guys enjoy (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )

chan + getting shy easily. poor thing gets embarrassed so quickly as it is. throw you into the mix and it’s just critical hit after critical hit. defense lowered. no health potions left. he folds like a lawn chair with a massive smile and a whiny “stooooop” every time you say something even remotely affectionate. the habit is adorable, and you love it to pieces.

but you like poking fun at it even more. “god forbid i find my literal underwear model of a boyfriend attractive,” you’d say, or something along those lines, which of course only triples his embarrassment and on more than one occasion results in him starfishing on your kitchen floor, his hood pulled over his face.

fast forward however many months. he’s still the worst compliment-receiver you know, but you discover one arbitrary afternoon that it’s rubbed off on you.

the two of you are cuddled together on the living room couch in your usual fashion, your legs thrown over his thighs and his hands tracing absently over your shins as you relay to him something you overheard on the subway. the conversation is painfully normal. you’re almost bored. you pause to take a breath, and he murmurs, out of nowhere, in the dreamiest tone: “so damn beautiful.”

“wha—huh? what is?”

“you. your voice, your face, everything. i‘m lucky.”

your expression of bewilderment persists for around ten seconds, and then slowly, so slowly, you begin to sandwich your head between your knees, balling yourself up like a spooked armadillo. chan wonders if he should call an ambulance.

“love?” no response. “what, uh, what’s happening right now, exactly?”

no response. no response. then, hoarsely, “you can’t...say shit like that…randomly.”

he notices two things after that. one, your skin is burning hot enough to fry something upon, and two, you’ve formed a fist in the fabric of his hoodie, which you only do when you’re pretending to be annoyed at him. the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he starts grinning like a madman.

“you’re…embarrassed?”

the guttural groan you emit is more than enough of an answer, and the cute aggression that overcomes chan is fucking debilitating. he wraps his arms around you and hauls you entirely off the couch and onto his lap, littering kisses over your face until it finally resigns into a matching smile. all intent to continue feigning grumpiness erased with the drop of a hat. you drape an arm over his neck.

“you’re so good to me, channie,” you sigh helplessly. “i love you.”

“love you more, baby.” he imprints these words directly upon your lips, then pulls away, giggles. “that was very me of you, by the way.”

“i know, right? i was just about to say.”

minho + butt touching. it’s quite simple, really. if lee minho is within proximity of someone’s buttocks, he will, as he lives and breathes, make it known. will it be a coy little swat or a yelp-eliciting, full-bodied grab? nobody ever knows, not even him. the unpredictability is what makes it exciting.

but it takes a while before this starts applying to you, because the way minho touches you is…different. doting. there’s no other way to describe how he always holds the nape of your neck while kissing you, how he rests a hand against the small of your back whenever he leads you somewhere, how during the nights you can’t sleep he guides you to the place on his chest where he knows his heartbeat is loudest. he even drags you into his trademark headlocks the same way one would hold an invaluable treasure. he’s so obsessed with all of you that he never thinks to pay just your butt special attention (though it is, indeed, a special butt).

you take it into your own hands. literally.

you don’t know what prompts it—maybe you’ve simply seen minho slap his members’ asses one too many times, or maybe you’re still thinking of the specific time minho slapped changbin’s ass in passing and it fucking echoed, or maybe minho just looks especially fine in this practice outfit, a skintight tee and washed sweatpants that hug him in all the right places—but you feel a new urge today as your boyfriend swings his duffel over his shoulder, circles around the kitchen counter.

he puckers up as he nears you, silently requesting his goodbye; you give it to him, relishing for a moment in the familiar, soft plush of his lips beneath yours. then he pulls away and turns to leave, and your hand acquires its target.

“go get ‘em, tiger.” thwack!

minho jumps a foot into the air. clutches his pearls and his left butt cheek. becomes the splitting image of that perplexed blonde lady surrounded by geometry.

but when he turns around to stare at you, the smirk melting across his face betrays how he really feels about what you’ve just done. good. really good.

you, meanwhile, look genuinely confused. “it’s like it moved on its own.”

minho beams. steps towards you daintily, intentionally, like a cat catching sight of a laser beam. brings a hand to your hip, murmurs, “that’s what we’re doing now?” kisses you again, for longer this time.

you fully foresee his fingers wandering to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, but you reach up to cuff his shoulder when it happens anyways, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth. it seems you’ll be reaping what you’ve sown from now on.

(good luck.)

changbin + the Cackle™. yes, you said something exceptionally funny. yes, you expected changbin to find it funny too. but you couldn’t expect the godforsaken noise that left his mouth as he threw himself straight into the tree planter behind you.

your mind spun with frantic questions as you helped him out of the dirt. had the spirit of spongebob just usurped his vocal cords? were you on a date with the wicked witch of the west? most importantly—

“are you well?” you sputtered, which only made him laugh harder and his laugh so much crazier, so you started laughing, too. and you were goners, falling over each other until you’d been reduced to watery eyes and sore cheeks, your giggling interrupted only by the sound of you slapping his thigh every so often, heartily enough to reverberate around the little park in which you concluded your second date.

that’s how you fall for seo changbin: laughing. with a reckless, breathless abandon you didn’t think possible. stumbling across empty sidewalks, spitting noodles across dining tables, begging for mercy on studio couches. wrestling under tear-stained comforters, starting (and re-starting) silly stories, huffing into beaming kisses. the list goes on.

you never quite get used to that chortle of his, too busy enjoying its insanity to notice how your own chuckles grow shorter and shriller, how they gradually develop an edge like the chittering of a forest dweller.

you complete your transformation on your ninety-eighth date.

no, changbin doesn’t say anything exceptionally funny. no, he doesn’t expect you to find it exceptionally funny, either. he expects least of all for you to fold over the kitchen island and start cackling like cruella de vil on helium.

jisung turns around from his seat on the couch. chan’s footsteps come to a halt as he emerges from the bathroom. both of them have fear in their eyes as they witness your undoing.

the only thing on changbin’s face, though, is unfettered delight.

“b-baby,” he sputters with a growing smile. “are you—”

you lift your face off the marble surface and turn to face him. the entirety of your forehead and the point of your nose is covered in flour. you blow a cloud of the stuff out of your mouth like a dragon awoken from slumber.

he loses it.

the two of you make your way onto the floor in slow motion, ending in a tangled heap against the side of the counter. changbin tries to clean off the flour and smears it all over your cheeks instead. you are zero help whatsoever, smacking his bicep like that’ll help you catch your breath. your synchronized, diabolical laughter reaches every corner of the apartment. your happiness reaches every nerve ending.

chan and jisung look at each other and sigh. jisung takes a video.

hyunjin + side-eyeing. this man is so god awful at controlling his face, bless him…and DAMN HIM.

on one hand, you love how in tune with his emotions he is, how confidently he puts them on display. and you love your synergy. you come closer to believing in soulmates every time you glance his way and discover your exact feelings written all over his features; it’s a special type of happiness, sharing a brain with your favorite person in the world.

on the other hand, you think there’s a time and place for candor, and he tends, well, not to think at all. during many a precarious situation, you’ll catch him wearing an expression so transparent that he might as well arrange the words THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE ALL OF YOU over his head in neon lights. cue a dig of your heel into his toe, a hiss of pain cut short by your piercing glare. if you’d known ahead of time that dating hwang hyunjin would have you doing so much damage control…you’d still date him, let’s be real. but you do get stressed at times.

the night the tables turn, you’re at a celebratory dinner for your coworker’s birthday. small caveat: you can’t stand her. she’s the type to spontaneously combust if she goes two minutes without talking about herself. certainly doesn’t help that she’s downing champagne like water, and her lips are looser than ever.

hyunjin comes with you, fortunately. or not. he spends the whole evening trying so hard not to laugh: snorting into his bread, excusing himself to “cough.” you think he actually starts doing breathing exercises at some point. you’re so, so grateful that he’s here, but you’re also deathly afraid that he’s gonna bring out those neon lights in front of your entire office.

then, she flirts with him.

from the opposite end of the table. perfectly wasted but still knowing perfectly well that he’s yours. the whole patio goes silent. hyunjin’s jaw hits the table.

your fork clatters to your plate.

FUCK time and place.

the side-eye you give her is devastating. truly masterful. your brow furrows. your eyes turn to slits. your gaze does the up-down-up of unadulterated incredulity. hyunjin recognizes the motions straightaway and starts smiling so hard his whole face hurts.

you take your boyfriend’s wrist and stand up. he follows suit. you don’t say a thing as you leave the restaurant, and you don’t have to. the intensity of your disdain was more than enough; anything more and she might’ve started crying.

once you’re on the curb outside, hyunjin pulls on your interlocked hands, brings you close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear. you hear laughter and his smirk in his voice: “you might be the sexiest person on earth."

jisung + how he applies lip balm. that han jisung is the pioneer of modern day babygirlism is the worst kept secret in the world. that han jisung applies lip balm the riveting way he does, however, is unknown even to you. until one morning.

you pop into the bathroom and make your usual beeline for your toothbrush, only to end up motionless in front of the sink, staring. jisung is a bit off to the side, hair pinned back by a cinnamoroll headband, eyes glued to his phone, hand holding a tube of chapstick that you can actually see getting shorter in real time. he looks so pensive, so concentrated. how long has it been since he last blinked? you’ve half a mind to pull out a stopwatch.

finally, he rubs his lips together, recaps the chapstick, and makes eye contact with you in the mirror. a smile crosses his face, equal parts confused and amused.

“baby, your mouth is open.”

you close it. then you open it again, and your words come out in a barely-contained laugh: “what on earth did you just do?”

“what do you mean?”

“the—” you point at his mouth, then do your best impression of an elementary schooler trying to color inside the lines. “—that.”

jisung looks aghast. “that was LIP BALM.”

“no, i know what it—you’re so—i meant, why do you apply it like that?”

jisung continues to look aghast. “like what?”

“like you’re one of socrates’ prized pupils and the answer to the universe’s formation lies at the bottom of—” you step in close, reach into the pocket of his sweatpants. “—this tube!”

it might be the craziest thing you’ve ever said to him. he bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves him no recollection of what he does with his limbs, and when he can see straight again he discovers he’s pressed you gently against the counter. his fingers latched around the hem of your top, his grin inches away from yours. can’t stay away from you to save his life, this one.

“do i actually?”

“yes! holy shit, it’s so cute.” your arms circle around his neck, also without an ounce of thought, also through a fit of giggles. “no way you’ve always done that, right?”

“i don’t know. i’ve never thought about it.” a pause. a tilt of his head, with purpose. “am i…doing it wrong?”

the question is a trap and you realize it too late. your gaze drops from his eyes to his lips—a ray of sunlight glistens off the pink plush like a paid actor—then back to his eyes. let’s find out.

you lean in. so does he. and his mouth tastes and feels like melted fucking sugar. it’s such a pleasant surprise that you actually moan, and he chuckles against you. lifts you onto the edge of the sink. your mind really goes empty after that, save for one thought. i have to start doing that.

felix + checking his own pulse. you saw it from afar, the first time.

he stood by the stage’s entrance just before curtain up, pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of his neck. eyelids sealed closed, chest heaving. you tilted your head, puzzled. worried. then the concert began, and you pushed the image to the back of your mind.

it returned to the forefront right before bed.

“you do it when you’re nervous?”

“yeah. forces me to ground myself. turns off the world for a bit.” the hand rubbing circles into your back paused. “wanna give it a go?”

“what, checking my pulse?”

“mine.”

you lifted your head off the pillow. felix took your hand from where it sat upon his ribs, isolating two fingers and nestling them over his jugular. his quickened heartbeat pressed into your skin like the world’s gentlest tattoo.

the sixty seconds began and concluded in total silence.

“well?” he whispered.

“ninety-three,” you answered, lightheaded from the sheer intimacy of it all. “you’re nervous right now?”

“something like that,” he hummed. pulled you down, kissed you deeply. there were no more words exchanged that night.

the habit surfaced more than you knew. while driving to visit your parents. after a stupid argument with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath his free arm. you started doing it for him in the times he couldn’t, and he’d cover your hand with his own and kiss the top of your head silently, gratefully.

two years have passed since, and you’ve vanished from the dinner table.

felix asks the nearest waiter for directions to the restrooms. you don’t notice when the door swings open, unmoving in your spot over the sink, your pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of your neck.

his hand finds your hip. you let him turn you around and bring you to his chest; he glances at the crystalline droplets studding your lashes and falling from your cheeks. his eyes convey what his mouth doesn’t need to, not anymore.

let me.

you do.

his fingers replace yours the moment you drop them from under your jaw, the movement like clockwork. he counts your every heartbeat with unblinking concentration, his heart growing heavier the higher the number climbs.

the sixty seconds begin and conclude in total silence.

“well?” you whisper.

“hundred and six,” he answers. to his confusion, a smile pulls at your lips.

he wonders if it’s a trick of the bathroom lights when he sees the tiny box you pluck from your pocket, but there’s no mistaking the reality of the diamond ring that sits behind its open lid.

the earth slants under his feet.

“crazy.” you giggle through your tears, run your thumb over his cheekbone. “that’s how many years i want with you.”

seungmin + poking eyes(?) he’s hardly touched puppym when your voice is slicing through the living room air like a fucking beyblade.

“KIM SEUNGMIN, UNHAND HIM THIS INSTANT.”

do you have a sixth sense just for this? he throws his hands up in exasperation. “he’s literally me. i’m allowed to do whatever i want with me.”

“he’s not you, he’s our son.” you pop out of nowhere to swipe the plushie from over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “my son, if you keep this up.”

“just say you hate me and my preferred avenues of self expression.”

upside-down, he watches you dust off puppym’s face and smooch his forehead with a tenderness that makes seungmin unhappier than he lets on. you then tuck him into your jacket pocket. the little shit’s expression looks strangely smug poking out of its cotton capsule.

“i’m asking you to not gauge his eyes out, not to deliver me the holy grail,” you say. “you’ll survive.”

but then he feels your hands on either side of his face, and you lean over him like the mj to his peter, leave a kiss on the space between his eyes, too. he has zero say in the bashful smile this brings to his face.

“but why do you do that, seriously?” you mutter.

“i have no idea,” he replies. “but it’s fun. try it.”

“i’ll think about it.” you lean in again, and he nearly forgets what you were talking about in the first place when you kiss him on the lips this time. “okay, i’ve thought about it. no.”

“hate you,” he says despite the literal hearts in his eyes, and then you’re off to work.

puppym takes strikingly after his father. they have the same bangs. the same compulsively squeezable quality. the same little :3 that can only allude to sinister plottings. you’d be loath to admit that you sort of comprehend seungmin’s poking predisposition.

one night, seungmin falls asleep before you even finish your nighttime routine, and you spot in his peaceful, upturned face an opportunity.

you lie belly-down on your side of the bed. your fingers splay into a peace-sign in the air. your smile stretches further into a cheshire grin the closer you bring your hand. you’re just about to reach the ends of his eyelashes when—

“I KNEW IT!”

you almost catapult into the ceiling. then you try to make a mad dash for the bathroom. but seungmin shoots a hand around your wrist like he’s actually peter parker and pins you down before you so much as take a step. your only remaining option is to sulk about your foiled plans. (and blush, because, well, you’re under him.)

“amateur,” he tsks. “you gotta test my breathing to make sure i’m asleep first. shit’s foolproof.”

you blink at him for a few seconds. his words finally click.

now you almost catapult him into the ceiling.

“HOW MANY TIMES?”

jeongin + eating food in one bite. so you might be an instigator.

“hwuck,” he grumbles around the whole ice cream cone in his mouth, face scrunched up in a brain-freeze-induced wince. “ayee ith waz a bah iyeah.” (translation: fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.)

“you got this. just take it slow,” you urge, except he’s stopped moving and speaking and closed his eyes as if he’s descending into a deep sleep. you’re actually concerned for about two seconds, and then his jaw begins to oscillate leisurely like an elderly cow in his favorite pasture. false alarm.

after some time, he swallows, beams. “so am i the fucking best or what.”

“yeah you are,” you echo, and he swings an arm over your shoulder, plants a chocolatey kiss on your temple. the two of you celebrate his daesangs with less enthusiasm.

“when are you doing that with me, by the way?”

“the one-bite thing?” he nods. “mmm, coaches don’t play.”

“mmm, this one will.”

“doubtful.”

fast forward a few weeks and you, jeongin, and his younger brother are sitting cross-legged on the porch in his backyard. three full-sized oranges rest in the center of your makeshift circle. damn is yoon hard to say no to. (runs in the family.)

“the rules!” he declares. “eat the orange whole! first to swallow it wins! you can’t spit it out!”

you wait. “is that it?”

“yes!”

why was the delivery so grand?

jeongin places a fond hand atop his brother’s head. “i’ve brought you a new loser, yoonie. get excited.”

you feign an indifferent scoff, but jeongin spots the fire that ignites behind your eyes like that of an anime protagonist, the resolute grip with which you palm your orange. he smirks. he’s never known you to take trash talk sitting down. or sitting cross-legged on his porch.

yoon counts you off. “ready…”

“good luck, coach,” jeongin sings.

“shut up, pipsqueak.”

“set…GO!”

in amusing unison, you and yoon try and fail to fasten your teeth around even half of the fruit. jeongin, meanwhile, fits the whole thing into his black hole of an oral cavity and launches into that dumb cow impression again.

desperate times call for desperate measures.

you rip the orange from your lips. “yoon! your brother’s ticklish, right?”

both yang siblings’ eyes widen—the younger’s in growing delight, the older’s in impending horror.

the latter reacts first. “ay, ay, ay, ah ahes eh ooles!” (translation: wait, wait, wait, that’s against the rules!)

but the former moves first, and you’re right behind him.

jeongin weakens when the younger boy assaults his sides, crumples when you target the back of his neck, the sounds leaving his mouth getting progressively louder and somehow even less intelligible.

he eventually has to spit out the orange to avoid death by pulp going down the wrong pipe and spins around in indignation, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. but his annoyance—

you’re back on the floor, gnawing hopelessly at the the orange again. “ih ih eawahin, ooh.” (translation: this is embarrassing, yoon.)

yoon replies, “huh?” (translation: huh?)

—dissipates, immediately.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ・ @automaticpersonabatpaper

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bainutwater85 · 8 months ago

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can i get nsfw headcanons about any naruto characters? your choice !!

characters: gaara, kiba, kakashi, shikamaru

cw: cum, anal, vibrators, dick sizes, fem reader with fem parts

a/n: hope u enjoy! also i’m writing for them during the time naruto and hinata got married (?) i know they were like 19-23 or 24

GAARA !

when you two are alone: he likes when you lay on him n he rubs your back inching his way down to you ass, rubbing it and kneading it in his hands.

twerk on this man, give him a lap dance i swear to god he won’t be disappointed by anything you shake. his eyes will be wide and he’ll have the biggest smile on his face, if y’all are drunk and doing this then you’ll definitely be fucking wherever you are at. Most likely will come in his pants..

his balls are tight and full, not big but average size for his age. Loves when you just lay next to him and invade his space then slipping a hand in his pants to massage his balls; especially when he’s cramping there to.

he’s not much of a sex guy but definitely prefers dry humping over the real dick in the ass thing, if yknow what i mean. you 2 just get the grind on..slow and sensual. & by dry humping— he’s not humping you like a wild animal, just dragging his boner across your leg/thigh. You do the same..just without ur panties (^_^)

Don’t get me wrong..he’ll have sex and release his load in you or on you a few times— he just has a..in between sex drive (?) basically: sex isn’t always on his mind unless you propose to it and if he’s having a rough day (which is almost everyday & barely resorts to sex to get relaxed) anywayss. With that being said i really feel like he likes to take sex slow so your foreplay will last about 15-20 mins and another 20 while he’s kissing every crack and creavice of your body.

⤴︎ i also feel like he’s big into role play. Like yes, i’ll be the princess and you’ll be the evil big bad wizard that needs my love and touch. Or yes you can be the UPS guy and i can be the mom of 2 college and highschool kids during the summer waiting for my dildo to arrive because me and my husband divorced a few months ago

he don’t lick pussy he SUCKS pussy. he don’t give you fast kitten licks he will head straight for the clit and suck on it like a pacifier and rub it when he’s done.

his cum has an easy flow and isn’t too thick but he spurts out a lot. Also average size with an average girth, 6.4 inches at best🙌🏾

KIBA !

biggg ash, GIRTH && LENGTH WISE. i’d say 6.6 at least. n he lovesss it when you whine and tell him it don’t or won’t fit & try to push him back a bit by his abdomen or run. just for him to grab you by the hips/waist and start pounding into you

unlike gaara he will dive in and lick your pussy clean. sorry not sorry, he has no pussy eating technique and does what he saw a man do on a porno he seen when he 12 years old. yeahhhp

why fuck one hole when you can fuck 3? we all say in usion. He’s an anal god & prefers the butthole than the vagina or mouth.

speaking of mouth..he likes a little teeth on his cock, not a lot tho😗 cause it “tickles” he says.

Guys..he does not have breeder balls..i’m sorry :(. They aren’t small they just aren’t as big but they don’t sag either..they’re TIGHT. tight like if he was to go soft rn his ball sacks would be a futon for his penis

also has bad ball cramps and whines so much when you can’t or won’t help him with it. But “its fine” he says, just don’t beg for any dick post- shark week 😒. && to top it all off he is a MASTER MASTURBATER. when he got with you he stopped watching porn and used his imagination with you being the the source of material.

sleeps bare butt ass naked with his balls all out jus free ballin like we’re in the paleoithic age💀

ass eater ass eaterr. he don’t care if you ain’t shower this morning he wants to go in and down. He’s a free and wild man when it comes to sex, LITERALLY.

whines the most and hates to admit it but he just can’t help how tight you are. Like you wrap around him just right and it makes him come on the spot sometimes

they don’t mind a bush or fuzzy peach. But kiba is the one to cry when you shave or get a wax down there 😗 the others don’t mind if it’s hairy, a little hair never hurt them and plus “we grown” kakashi, kiba and SHIKAMARU say in harmony 😭

+ all of the character listed above

KAKASHI !

always and i mean alwaysss has to have a hand on your ass and tits. it’s not even in a horny or sexual way— he just wants to squeeze and feel the squish of your body. Unknowingly massages them to and you don’t even point it out, then he’s moving his hand looking down at your nipple like “why is it hard?” man you just gave top tier massage that could clear migraines and cramps.

his dick is big and he knows ittt. Sitting on his lap is enough for his dick to go in ‘up mode’ he will nottt back down or let YOU back down when you tease him and try to leave him by hiself with a hardon, no ma’am..you’re gonna finish what you started.

never fully gets naked when you two are having sex. his shirt is off, pants down and his dick coming out the deisgined hole of his boxers. Your bra over your tits and panties pulled to the side.

he lives in the country and rural era of konoha so yes you suck his dick and he eats you out on his back patio, what about it?

doesn’t want you having any dildos, he doesnt know why it makes him so upset you need a FAKE cock to make you cum when you have him. The only sex toys he’ll allow is a vibrator and butt plug. Speaking of vibrators, he so fascinated by the way your plump pussy lips move when you use it😫

preps you all the time, you two could’ve been fucking since the day you got together, he’s still gonna prep you either way cause mans is BIG. he’s more of a shower than grower tho 😗

6.7in when soft and 7inch hard. His girth isn’t wide..it’s more on the skinny side but he reaches places better with the size and length. Once you cried so hard and almost reached your breaking point when his thrust kept getting deeper and slower cause he was hitting the entrance to your cervix and lord was it painful yet pleasing at once.

his balls are average but they sag, not low but they got some weight to em on the inside 😭

SHIKAMARU !

wants to makes movies with you and has made movies with you. But it’s premium tho so only you and him only see it.

always and i mean alwayssss has a hand in your panties or on your thigh. You two would be chillin in the living room, the floor or in the bed (most of the times the bed) and he’ll just sneak his through and just rub your clit. he doesn’t finger you just rubs you slowly, occupied with his phone and your pussy while he’s just strolling through social media and getting you off all at once.

fav position is most likely doggystyle. Why? because if you both are getting your freak on and wanting to watch something..you can do both.

lazy sex..need i say more? he’s got you laying on top of him with his dick barely all the way inside you and giving half ass thrusts while you both are half away and naked at the crack of morning

hates pulling out, says it ruins the good feeling when you’re about to cum. Naw sweetie he just wants to be a dad of a cheerleading team. He might wanna be one and done or 2 kids but the way he cums inside of you..😗 it says otherwise. he doesn’t even pull out till you guys wake up, and if he did so you can go pee and get it out your system— he’s gonna ease way back in and go to bed like that 😭

another sagger and shower but not a grower. He’s average, length and girth. 6.6 hard and 6.6 soft. It’s just limpy yknow?.

also sleeps naked well semi-naked. but you? oh he makes you strip down to your socks and earrings. he wants you skinned down to the toess. He only sleeps in a bare of boxers and time out time he uses rhat as his advantage. won’t even take them off to pull his dick out. he either slips it through the hole of his pants or over the hem of the boxers. Somtimes doesn’t even take it out himself and gets you to do it by grinding it agaisnt you or pulling you closer to it.

cums a lot and cums whenever and wherever tbh. on your face in your mouth, wipes it off for you tho. One thing he lovessss to do is slap his tip on your lips or cheeks he just loves slapping his cock all over your face anyways

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oleryn · 23 days ago

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These Are Not Micker Mouse: A breakdown of the Mangoball characters through the lens of Commedia Dell’Arte (by a dramaturg wannabe with too much time on their hands)

In the wake of the Dream SMP’s recent revival brought on by Dream’s latest and greatest tomfoolery, one of the most iconic, unifying, yet hitherto unknown figures of the fandom has finally made themselves known – Mangoball ( @girl-hemingway ), creator of the viral semi-eponymous SocMed AU that took the fandom by storm in 2021-2022. With its cartoonishly zany characters and hilarious one-liners, Mangoball quickly rose the ranks of popular DSMP fanfictions and remains to this day a pleasant, hilarious read that is enjoyable even if you hate the controversial content creators therein. Obligatory fuck the Dteam and Wilbur Soot. Anything good I say about their characters is a positive reflection of Mangoball’s talent and not the content creators themselves.

In this tumblr post, the author mentions Commedia Dell’arte (16-18th century Italian theatre) as a resource for writing crack fanfiction. That lit my theatre kid neurons up like Tubbo on October 16th, 2020 and so this essay was born. Enjoy my in-depth breakdown of the Mangoball characters through the lens of some of theatre’s most iconic archetypes. however im not a professional and im also not sober so if anything is wrong please just send a bomb to my house or somethingg

NOTE: While some characters or pairings are likened to specific archetypes, most of Mangoball’s characters are a mix of several.

GLI INNAMORATI - THE LOVERS

This one is obvious. No one in Mangoball’s Cheater Cheater (henceforth known as MB because I’m lazy) embodies the archetype of The Lovers more than its main pairing, Dreamnotfound.

In classic Commedia, the relationship between the Innamorati is the driving force of the entire story. They are often of high status and speak in flamboyant, flowery language; at times, they recite long poetry at length from memory and tend to sing quite often. Brought to foolishness by their hopeless infatuation for one another, the lovers often have no other personality traits besides being in love.

In MB, Dream and George are the hapless romantic leads fraught with drama and miscommunication that threatens to tear them apart. Their dialogue to and about each other borders on incomprehensibly romantic (e.g. goopsie skaboingy, boinky splurge, weeble wobble, skrunkly scribblydoinky bipsy tootsy badointy tiepnsy bip bop boppie goggiy dinty scruggly duggly big bampidointy dougly goopsie scaboinky pipupsy datootsit) and both characters associate themselves with poetry, song and dance, and other lofty forms of prose throughout the work (Dream singing the entire Mama Mia soundtrack after sleeping with George for the first time, reciting Romeo and Juliet sonnets to George despite having never read the play, George texting Quackity the La La Land script line by line by memory). They have little other personality besides the infatuation they hold for each other, but that doesn’t stop them from being enjoyable and hilarious leads that we as readers can’t help but root for.

VECCHI - THE VILLAINS

Though the Italian word Vecchi translates literally to ‘old men’, the Vecchi class of Commedia Dell’Arte characters serve as villains or opponents to the Innamorati. They are usually older characters that use their positions of power for selfish or immoral reasons. This doesn’t translate as clearly to MB as the Innamorati do, but that doesn’t mean that the story is free of Vecchi influences. Sapnap and Tommy are the story’s primary villains – Sapnap for his status as romantic rival to DNF; Tommy for his single-minded hatred of Dream that leads him to create increasingly popular Twitter spaces for the sole purpose of insulting him. Sapnap’s character is marked by his jealousy, his dishonesty, and the continued schemes he pulls to get between the main lovers. He is also the butt of several ratios and is generally regarded as a nuisance. Some of these traits are found in the Pantaleone character – although Sapnap does not possess the miserly money-hungriness that Pantaleone is known for. Anselmo is a lesser-known stock character characterized as a veccho-innamorati, or a romantic rival, but that is the extent of Sapnap’s relation to him. Il Dottore is also sometimes characterized as an adulterer, but like with Pantaleone, Sapnap lacks Dottore’s iconic traits (in his case, being a parody of the educated elite who regularly talks confidently about stuff he knows nothing about and bores the other characters offstage.)

I don’t think any Commedia character possesses such intense hatred for another character as Tommy does for Dream. He’s less of a Vecchi and moreso of a complete foil to the Innamorati – a total and utter hater, largely a flat character beyond his negative feelings for his former Compsci tutor. An Innaodio? That kid will stop at nothing to destroy Dream. I don’t think it’s even explained why Tommy hates him so much beyond his annoyance for Dream’s affections for George.

Honestly, maybe that’s enough to warrant some hatred.

ZANNI — THE ROOMMATES

Karl, Quackity, Corpse, Wilbur, and the elusive Badboyhalo are all part of the Zanni class of Commedia characters. The Zanni characters are traditionally the low-class servants of the higher-status Vecchi or Innamorati. Usually found in pairs, they are often separated into the silly and buffoonish and then into the cunning, quarrelsome, and conniving. In Mangoball, they’re the roommates/sidekicks of our main leads… apart from Badboyhalo. We’ll get back to him.

Karl and Quackity are George’s roommates; Corpse is Dream’s. Corpse is a somewhat judgemental watcher of Dream’s antics, not afraid to stir up drama or join Tommy’s hateful lives, and yet remains supportive of him overall. He is also the subject of Wilbur's odd romantic advances. Quackity regularly acts like he wants to actually kill himself over George’s romantic endeavours and regularly threatens the trio with violence or piss-related crimes (e.g. okay but im peeing on the couch!). Karl, as arguably the most rational character of the entire work, is often kinder to George than Quackity is, though his normalcy often leads to him being ridiculed (e.g. the entire group unanimously agreeing that he is the craziest among them for doing such things as eating an orange). Quackity and Karl are also the only ones to break the fourth wall and call out the story for its texting-only medium. In all honesty, they’re too smart (and not horny enough) to fit most of the Zanni archetypes. I would consider them the straight men of the work. Most of their comedy comes from their reactions to what’s going on around them.

Nothing sums up their characters more than this iconic bit:

SPECIAL MENTIONS - WILBUR

The Arlecchino, or Harlequin, archetype is the base for most fool/clown characters that have risen to prominence over the course of history and is a comedic bastion in any Commedia production. Colourful and acrobatic, Arlecchino oscillates between legendary dim-wittedness and a single-minded dedication to achieving his goals. He is often abused by smarter characters, easily distracted by lust and food, and will foray into the complicated, the absurd, and the illegal to get what he wants without a second thought. While what usually sets Arlecchino apart from other Commedia archetypes is his acrobatic prowess, that doesn’t exactly translate well into written prose.

Mangoball’s Wilbur is a proven criminal, a buffoon, and also implied to be a literal alien. While hardly tolerated by the rest of the crew, he's also responsible for several of Mangoball’s iconic lines. His character is always one step behind the joke (e.g. ‘These are not micker mouse?’ – his inability to understand well-known Disney characters, which he blames on being British) and, at random intervals, acts romantically or sexually towards Corpse without any prompting. His advances go largely rejected or ignored. The other crew members frequently bully him for his antics (e.g. them letting him starve for 20 hours during the road trip) and yet make use of his complete disregard for the law when is beneficial for the plot (e.g. him breaking into a Miami villa and loaning it to two groups simultaneously without realizing). Overall, Mangoball’s Wilbur is integral to highlighting the comedic contrast between the more rational characters and the insane situations they find themselves in. He proves himself as a driving comedic force with the final tweet of the original work.

SPECIAL MENTIONS - BADBOYHALO

fuck if i know genuinely. no one in the history of ever is doing it like him im beign so serious what the ffuck is wrong with him geniunely

he;s fuckign everyones mother. hes eeveryones dad. hes your dad. hes my dad too i thjink. guys i hve to go call my mother rightnow im sorryyyy

#is this anything.#not beating the autism allegations i have to say.#i spent three hours on this because i was bored lmfao #anyways go read mangoball it's a classic #dsmp #dream smp #tommyinnit #mangoball #mangobaii #mcyt #mcytblr

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kwoniele · 24 days ago

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thanos headcanons (n)sfw ۶ৎ

warnings: smut, jealousy, sensory deprivation, bdsm mention (they don’t actually perform anything of the sort), fingering, oral (f receiving), public fingering lol, tease, edging, overstimulation, manhandling aaanndd thats all!

𖦹 really unpopular opinion (or so bc i’ve never seen anyone really talk about it) but i feel like he’d be really protective 😭 for example; if you two were on a date, rather than sitting across from you, he’d be next to you so it’s more obvious you two are together etc.

—

𖦹 in the games, he’s very silly and childish and that doesn’t change with you at all. he’s the same goofy person you know, but he will always make sure he gets babied by you lol it’s like healing his inner child.

—

𖦹 will absolutely spoil you if ever he finally voted x (which he would never do but its a headcanon) he’d buy you luxury bags, limited edition jewelry… literally everything you’d look absolutely gorgeous in.

“baby what about this one? this looks cute on you!”

“subong-ah.. that’s $350.?”

—

𖦹 never lets his friends near you lmao 😭😭 nam-gyu would just be talking to you for help with something and he’d butt in and give him advice instead LOOL

“hey, so i was thinking maybe this color would look nicer—”

“looks like shit. absolutely not. go away.”

—

𖦹 definitely the “i know you can, but let me” kind of guy. you could be baking a cake for se-mi’s birthday and then suddenly you look beside you and thanos is putting on a purple apron and cracking eggs for him to whisk up afterward.

“thanos, i can do it myself—”

“i know, but i want to do it with you. so teach me how to do this so next time i can help you better.”

—

𖦹 okay so he’s a very unserious person, but if you were in a vulnerable state, he will always be there to embrace you. he’d rock you in his arms and let you get his shirt all wet bc he loves you and he can’t stand seeing you cry ☹️

“shh, it’s okay. i’m here. i’ll always be here for you.”

—

𖦹 an absolute sweetheart to you in public, fucks you like you’re his slut in private. the things he would do to you oh my goodness 😭 definitely the type to manhandle you, esp when ure being bratty

—

𖦹 loves to edge & overstimulate you lmfao he thinks you squriming and moaning for him is absolutely theatrical 😭

“fuck. subong—”

“what’s wrong baby? need to cum that bad?”

—

𖦹 isn’t the biggest fan of bdsm bc you’re his princess and he’d never want you to feel otherwise BUT this man would def be into sensory deprivation 😭 if you’re asking to be fucked HARD, he won’t hold back and will make sure a blindfold is on and your hands are tied to the bed frame so you can’t touch him at all

“you’re so pretty like this, baby. i could listen to your moans all night. yeah? you want that? want me to fuck your cute pussy until morning? hmm?”

—

𖦹 thanos can be both a soft dom or a hard dom. it just really depends on his mood. if you managed to piss him off by flirting with other guys to pique his jealousy? you won’t be seeing the light of day. if you’re both exhausted and in need of relief? he’ll take care of you so well.

—

𖦹 the absolute MASTER of fingering & eating u out. you are an independent, iconic woman and yet you become the biggest pillow princess around that man. if you were at a restaurant? best believe his hands are on your thigh, slowly hiking up towards your core until he slips in a few fingers into your hole.

“they’re going to hear you, love. wouldn’t want that do we? or do you want them to know how i’m making you feel so good?”

—

𖦹 if you and thanos were living with nam-gyu, min-su, se-mi, gyeong-su … etc they will absolutely tease the both of you bc of how loud you guys are during sex 😭 it’s so bad that they would probably have to move out bc u keep disturbing them at night LOOOLL

“subong-ssi was not holding back last night, huh?”

“se-mi! what the fuck??”

979 notes · View notes

sparklingblu · 14 days ago

Text

Eroverse

Pt.6 - Resistance

ft. Karina

Family reunions can be awkward.

But none can rival this one.

Eros looks like he's going to throw up any moment - his face white as a sheet of paper. His eyes dart from Karina's face to yours. Then to the scattered naked bodies of the hunters and back to Karina's face.

“Answer me. What is this madness?”

Karina asks, the anger evident in her voice - brewing and crackling like a storm right there in the room. Her normally perfect features are twisted to a scowl that could melt any mortal into a puddle. If looks could kill, Eros would’ve been a goner five times over.

But you are now experienced enough to realize that the idol before you is indeed not an idol at all. You are not a mythology nerd but you have a vague picture of what Karina actually is.

The tingly feeling on your skin: check.

Looking like an idol: check.

Anger issues: check.

Yes. Definitely a goddess (both literally and metaphorically in this case).

“Uh….”

Eros, the literal god of love, who can make an army swoon with a wink, looks like a kid caught stealing candy. His face is pale, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air. For a second, you wonder if you should step in and help, but then you remember: this is Eros’s mess. You have just narrowly escaped being slaughtered by a goddess. You are not gonna try to relive the experience.

“Mom…I…” he finally croaks, his voice cracking like a teenage boy’s.

Karina’s expression darkens. “Don’t you ‘Mom’ me, Eros,” she snaps. “Do you have any idea what you have done?”

Eros glances at you and Kazuha for backup. You give him a look that says Oh, no way, buddy. You are on your own. Kazuha seems to share your opinion but her eyes betray no emotion. You doubt even Eors’ most loyal angel is enthusiastic about dealing with an angry goddess. Especially not after what she has just gone through. Eros’s shoulders slump, realizing there’s no easy way out of this. He shuffles his feet, suddenly very interested in the floor.

“Look, it’s not that bad-” he starts.

Karina’s laugh cuts him off, sharp and humourless. “Not that bad? NOT THAT BAD? You don’t know what you are doing, Eros. You are tampering with powers you don’t understand. Stealing the helm of darkness? Doing…,” she eyes the naked spent body of Artemis aka Chaewon with disgust. “this to a daughter of Zeus? You are lucky you are not already in Tartarus”

“Mom, you don’t understand. I-”

But once again, Karina doesn’t give him a chance to speak. “And that mortal,” her gaze falls on you and you are suddenly made aware that being butt naked isn’t the best attire for a meeting with an angry goddess. In her elegant white dress, Karina may be otherworldly beautiful but the fury in her eyes is absolutely terrifying, like she can burn you to ash right on the spot. And there’s no promise that wouldn’t be the case. “has the mark of Asmodeus. The mark, Eros. Do you understand how dangerous it is? Or do you think this is another of your funny little party tricks?”

“Hey!” you protest. “I’m literally right here”

Karina shot you a look so sharp you instantly regret speaking. “Quiet, mortal. We will deal with you later”

You swallow hard and try to disappear into a wall. No such luck.

Eros raises his hands in surrender, backing up like a guy caught sneaking past curfew. “Okay, okay, I messed up! I get it, alright? But I have a plan”

Karina looks like she’s going to blow up, any moment. Her eyes, full of fury before, now seem to hold flames within. If it’s Eros’s nonchalance that sets her off or something else, you can’t be sure.

Perhaps sensing that things are going to get out of hand, Kazuha finally breaks her silence. “Your grace, ma’am Aphrodite, if I may-”

“Hold your tongue too, angel!” Karina snaps back and Kazuha gaze falls to the floor, silenced.

Lucky for you, though, because you no longer need to ask Kazuha which goddess it is again (that is, if she’s even in the mood to answer). Aphrodite, of course. It’s an easy guess,really. Who else is there aside from the goddess of beauty to take on the form of one of the top visuals of 4th gen? Even you, whose knowledge on mythology is pitiful, know that much.

Karina - no, Aphrodite - continues. “A plan?” She takes a slow, measured step towards Eros. The whole room suddenly feels hotter and you swear you are not imagining the goosebumps on your skin. She’s mad mad. “You mean the kind of plan that could unravel the balance of the cosmos, Eros? That kind of plan?”

Eros holds her gaze for a moment, then shrugs, forcing his usual smirk back onto his face. “When you put it like that, it sounds really bad ”

Karina doesn’t blink. “Because it’s really bad”

You stand off to the side, feeling like an unwanted extra in a godly family drama. It’s not everyday you see a goddess scolding her son like he’d forgotten to take out the trash - except, in this case, the trash might be something on a cosmic scale.

“So, give me a good reason Eros,” Aphrodite stops, exhaling sharply through her nose. “Or I will hand you to Zeus with my own hands”

For the first time since this whole thing started, Ero’s jolly persona is nowhere to be found. He seems to be contemplating, brows furrowed and lips stretched tight. The god of love has never looked this serious.

Finally, Eros lifts his eyes back upon Karina’s face. “Because we deserve better’” he says, and his voice, though quiet, is steady. “You deserve better”

Aphrodite’s expression froze, like she has not been expecting that.

Eros takes a step closer, his tone shifting - softer now, almost coaxing. You wonder if the ability comes with being a love god. “You were the first, mom. The first Olympian. The oldest. You were there before any of those old nutjobs were born”

The sky crackles with thunder at that, as if Zeus himself has heard Eros. And you are suddenly aware that the scenery beyond the glass has shifted - now displaying ancient Greek in its full glory, with its marble temples and bronze sculptures. The place looks eerily beautiful, deprived of people.

But Eros doesn’t seem to give two fucks about what the king of gods think, because he continues. “And yet, look where you stand now - beneath him. Beneath all of them,” his voice drips with venom. “Is that fair?”

Aphrodite is silent for a moment, then she lets out a weak chuckle. “This is crazy. You are crazy”

Nonetheless, Eros presses on. “What I’m doing….what I’ve set in motion…it’s not just for me. It’s for you. For us”

So that’s it, you think. Everything you have done so far, every near death experience you have survived; it’s all just for Eros to gain his mom’s approval. A desperate attempt of a wayward son for recognition. And you have gladly gone along with it.

You feel really stupid. But it’s too late to back out now. Because the power…..it’s addicting.

Aphrodite doesn’t speak. But she’s no longer furious, now. She’s interested. She’s listening.

Eros tilts his head towards you. “And he is the key”

You have a sudden horrible feeling that you are standing on the edge of something massive, something you weren't supposed to understand.

If Eros plans to dethrone the gods with your abilities, you doubt the outcome would be pretty. Sure, you can make goddesses and angels become your cocksleeves with your magical dick, but even that isn’t without a fight. You will literally have no chance against all the Olympians. And the mere thought of using your powers on any male god makes you shudder. Even your perverted mind has its limits.

Karina studies you as if she has read your thoughts, before turning back to Eros. “You are not the first to try” she begins slowly. “And you won’t be the first to fail. Lust can be a powerful weapon if you wield it correctly, but this? This is madness”

Eros doesn’t respond. For once, he doesn’t have a clever remark or a lazy smirk.

Aphrodite lets out a sigh. “Clean up this mess,” she gestures to the naked, spent bodies of the hunters and Artemis. “If anyone asks, I’ve never been here, got it? I’ll be watching, Eros”

And with a swish of her dress, she heads to the doorway she has come from. In an instant, the room erupts in a blinding light once more. Unfortunately, you make the mistake of staring too long and the luminous rays scorch your eyes before you shut them tight.

It takes a while for you to blink out the white spots dancing across your vision. But when you finally regain perfect sight, Aphrodite is gone.

Everything is still for a moment, before it’s broken by Eros’s voice.

“Well,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “That could’ve gone worse”

You don’t answer. You can’t.

Because now, the exhaustion is hitting you all at once. The battle in Artemis’s verse, the fatigue that follows the mark’s activation, the sheer weight of what you’ve been thrown into - it crashes over you like a tidal wave. Your body feels like lead, every muscle burning, every bone aching.

The world tilts.

You sway on your feet, gripping your side as your vision blurs. Someone - Kazuha? - says your name, but it’s distant, muffled, like a sound travelling through water. Your knees buckle, and the last thing you hear before the darkness takes you is Eros’s voice, sounding oddly far away.

“Guess we push him a little too hard”

And then – nothing.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

After seeing skeletons and three headed beasts in your dreams for weeks in a row, you already know what to expect when you are beyond your consciousness. Or maybe, something far worse.

But this time, it’s different.

The material beneath you is soft, a stark contrast to the cold, hard ground you remember collapsing on. Blinking against the golden light filtering from above, you push yourself up slowly, your muscles still aching from…everything.

The room around you is massive, circular, its marble walls pristine and smooth, interrupted only by tall pillars that stretch towards a domed ceiling. It reminds you of Persephone’s chamber in the underworld, the only difference being its cold, dreadful atmosphere replaced by a cheerful one.

The air smells of salt and roses, an odd combination that somehow makes sense. Sunlight streams in through openings between the pillars, casting shifting patterns across the polished floor.

You look at yourself. Your body is still bare, but it’s not misty and see through like back in your visit to the underworld. So, you are not dead yet. That’s a relief.

But you have learnt that if something looks remotely safe or welcoming in this world, it mostly isn’t. So you try to be cautious. As cautious as someone who’s butt naked and defenseless can be.

You are starting to contemplate whether you should just go back to sleep when you see her.

Karina, leaning against one of the pillars, dresses in a different outfit now - a white tank top, perfectly fitted jeans, and sneakers that look too clean to have ever touched mortal ground. It’s nothing godly but her beauty never fails to shine through, betraying her divinity.

“You’re awake,” she notes, her voice smooth, unimpressed.

You sit up stiffly, wincing at the stiffness in your limbs. “Am I dreaming?”

“Sorta” She tilts her head slightly, regarding you like an interesting specimen. “I borrow your soul for a while”

You don’t really understand what she means but decide not to raise questions. Not out of fear but rather, the curiosity of why she has brought her here in the first place.

“I have come to offer you a gift,” Karina says, answering your thoughts.

You blink, unsure you have heard her right. “A gift?”

She hums in confirmation, but doesn’t elaborate.

You hesitate, sensing a trap somewhere in her offer. “Why?”

She doesn’t answer straight away. Instead, she studies you, her gaze sharp and knowing. And then, with the faintest of smirks, she says, “Because I feel like it”

No way you are buying that.

Your mind races back to her confrontation with Eros, how she has despised his plan to dethrone the gods. “I thought you don’t agree with Eros’s plan” you say, watching her carefully.

Her smile doesn’t falter, but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. She shrugs. “I didn’t say that”

That throws you off. “So you agree?”

Another shrug. “I didn’t say that either”

You stare at her, frustration creeping in. “That’s not an answer”

Aphrodite sighs, folding her arms. “No, it’s not”

She steps closer, stopping just at the edge of the bed. From this distance, you can see the way the lights catch in her dark eyes, how they shimmer like a vortex of jewels. She looks casual, relaxed even, but you can sense it’s all a mask to hide something deeper.

“You think the power you have now is impressive?” she asks. “That little trick you pulled on Artemis? That’s nothing”

You frown. “Nothing?”

She chuckles, shaking her head. “A fraction. A sliver. The barest hint of what you are capable of” Her assessing gaze hovers over you, like she’s imagining what you have become. “Right now, you are a candle in the dark. But given time….you could be a wildfire”

More power. That’s exactly what you are afraid of. If you have already developed the thirst for the mark, you wonder what will become of you if its power grows. Will you even be human?

You swallow hard. “And, you’re just telling me this out of the kindness of your heart, aren’t you?”

She smirks. “Oh, sweetheart. I don’t do anything out of kindness”

You don’t doubt that.

She steps back slightly, slipping her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “This gift I have planned to give you. It’s a taste of what to come”

You tense. “What kind of gift?”

She smiles, slow and deliberate. “A new ability. One you will unlock eventually. But I’m feeling generous today”

You don’t know if ‘generous’ is the right word. Whatever she’s offering, it’s not just for you. There’s something in it for her, too. There always is.

“What ability?” you ask carefully.

Karina’s smile deepens. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

And before you can react, she reaches out, pressing two fingers against your forehead.

The world tilts-

And everything explodes.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

When everything stops spinning, the marble room is gone.

You blink. The soft glow of divine architecture is replaced by dim fluorescents of a….classroom. You find yourself seated in a chair of a location too familiar.

It’s the kind of room you have seen a thousand times before - rows of wooden desks, a blackboard at the front, a few motivational posters peeling off the walls. The faint scent of chalk and old textbook lingers in the air. Outside the window, the world is…nothing. Just an endless, swirling void.

You barely have time to process the shift before you hear the click of heels against the floor.

When you turn, your brain nearly short-circuits.

Karina is leaning against the teacher’s desk, arms folded, one leg crossed over the others. Only now, she’s not in her usual jeans and tank top. Instead, she’s dressed like every high school fantasy rolled into one - a tight white blouse, unbuttoned just enough to reveal her ample cleavage, a red plaid skirt that barely reaches mid-thigh, thigh-high stockings, and glossy black heels. She’s twirling a piece of hair around one finger, watching you with amusement.

You open your mouth. Nothing comes out.

She smirks. “Welcome to my verse”

Your brain is still buffering. “Your verse is a classroom?”

“For you,” she says, hopping up onto the desk and crossing her legs. “Unlike the others you have visited, mine is unique. Do you know why?” She leans forward slightly, her tits on the brink of spilling out from the fragile fabric. “It shifts and bends…according to the visitor’s deepest kink”

You stiffen. “That - that’s not true”

She raises an eyebrow. “Oh? Then why do I look like this?”

You have no answer.

Karina chuckles, tapping a finger against her temple. “Don’t be shy, sweetheart. The Verse doesn’t lie”

You swallow hard. “You - this - you are messing with me”

“Am I?” Her lips curve into something wicked. “Or are you just embarrassed that this is what your subconscious really wants?”

You are hard. So hard that it hurts. Your cock is rigid and springing up to its full length. With the lack of clothes, you have no way to hide your arousal. But you shove it down, trying to focus. “Why bring me here? What’s the point?”

Karina hums, swinging her legs idly. “I told you - I’m giving you a gift. But power is best awakened when you are completely in sync with your own desires” She tilts her head, watching your reaction carefully. “And nothing lays a person bare quite like this”

You want to deny her, try to compose yourself. But the truth is - she’s absolutely right. She’s pushing all the right buttons, using every buried fantasy of yours to her advantage. You know what’s coming next is inevitable, even with your lust hazed brain.

Karina slides off the desk with the grace of a predator, each step deliberate, heels clicking across the floor. Her eyes lock onto yours, and you find yourself rooted in place, unable to move.

She circles around you, like she’s sizing you up. Her fingers trail across your shoulder, down your arm, sending a shiver through your body. Her touch is light, teasing, but it feels like she’s peeling off layers you didn’t even know you had.

“You’re tense.” she whispers into your ear, her breath tickling your ear. Her hands rest on your shoulders, massaging gently, but there’s a weight to her touch that makes you weak. “You shouldn’t be”

You try to keep your breathing steady but it’s a losing battle. Her presence is overwhelming, seeping into your brain, clouding your thoughts.

“What are you doing?” you manage to ask, though your voice comes out shaky.

She chuckles softly, her lips brushing against the shell of your ear. “I’m just showing you what you are capable of.” Her hands slide down your chest, pressing lightly, and you can feel your resolve wavering, crumbling under her touch. “You have so much potential, so much power. But it’s locked away because you’re afraid”

“I’m not-” you start, but she cuts you off, spinning you around to face her. Your eyes instinctively fall on her plentiful tits, which are now on full display from this new angle.

“Eyes up here, honey,” she cups your face, forcing you to meet her eyes. “You’re afraid of the power inside you. Afraid of what you could become. Afraid of losing control” Her thumbs brush over your cheek, her touch light yet commanding. “But power is only dangerous if you don’t understand it”

Everything she’s telling you could be a lie. But you no longer care. Because all you crave now is more of this, more of her touch, her breath, her warmth. Her hand slides down , resting against your chest, and you feel your heart pounding beneath her fingertips.

“What do you want, really?” she asks, her voice a soft purr. “To be free of this? To understand it? Or maybe…” Her lips curve into a knowing smile. “To embrace it?”

Your mind is spinning, her words digging deep, unraveling desires you didn’t know were there. She rests a hand on your thigh, tracing idle patterns on your skin. Yet, her eyes never leave you, holding you captive.

“Stop fighting it,” she breathes, her voice a soft command. “Let go”

You feel the last shed of your resistance crumbles to dust. It’s intoxicating, the way she breaks down your walls, knocking them over like mere toys. And you finally relent, letting go of the fear, the doubt.

“Good boy” she praises.

And that’s when she crushes your lips with hers.

It’s not love. Far from it. It’s not affection either. But it’s equally addicting, something you want more the moment you have its taste, like an oasis in the desert. And Karina doesn’t keep you thirsty. She keeps on kissing you, letting you busk in the feeling of her silky lips, moist and soft each time they make contact with yours. Her tongue slips out to seek yours and you happily let yourself be found, intertwining it with yours, tasting her.

Her hand on your thigh isn't still either, slithering its way upwards until it finally reaches the hardness between your legs, gripping the base. You let out a moan against her lips, as her grip tightens. She can feel you throbbing. You are sure of it. She can feel how desperately you need her.

She gives you a single stroke, her fist around your length pumping a single time. And that’s enough to set you off.

Your veins flood with power. Your whole body is enveloped in gold. The upside down pentagon on your pelvis glows brighter than ever. And your cock, looks like it can destroy armies (literally).

Karina pulls back, though your lips still connect with a string of saliva. The scene turns you on so much that if it’s not been the mark, you feel like your cock would go numb from throbbing.

“And we are back,” she muses, studying your cock like it’s the most precious thing in the world. “Look at this beautiful thing”

“You are not affected by the mark?” you ask, surprised. Persephone and Artemis have become slaves to the mark’s power as soon as it activates. But Aphrodite doesn’t seem fazed. In fact, she looks mesmerized.

“The mark only punishes those who try to fight it” she says, now stroking your shaft in an agonizingly slow pace. “I embrace it”

She’s still admiring your cock with sparkling eyes. You are used to people cowering before the mark with fear or sometimes even disgust that someone worshipping it is such a strange sight. On the other hand, perhaps, you are content that someone finally acknowledges its power instead of treating it like a curse.

“Only a fool would reject something this…divine,” she mutters dreamily, her digits tightening around your shaft. “This hard. This….big”

She places a single kiss on your tip and you swear you can see stars. You can feel her breath on your skin, the phantom warmth that precedes what comes next.

“May I suck your cock, sir?” she asks, voice dripping with feigned innocence.

She’s fueling your fantasy. If the settings and the outfit aren’t enough, she has decided to roleplay too. A roleplay that’s too accurate to be a roleplay.

“You may,” you reply. You don’t know if you are in the position to give orders, but if she’s really getting into this slutty schoolgirl act, you decide you’d better too. Afterall, it takes two to tango.

“Thanks, sir” And with that, her lips part around your tip, swallowing you inch by inch until half of your shaft has disappeared into her wet warmth. Her tongue swipes at your slit and the moans spill from you before you can control yourself.

Karina pulls back, a glint of something like victory in her eyes. “You need me that bad, sir? Need that big cock in my pretty mouth?”

You can’t voice an answer. Your brain is too jumbled to string coherent words. So you give her a single nod.

“I thought so,” she says as if it isn’t obvious before she welcomes your shaft back into her mouth again.

You throw your head back in mind-numbing pleasure. Everything feels so….surreal. Her lips gliding along your veiny shaft, her tongue that darts out so often to taste your leaking slit, the loud slurping sounds she’s probably making intentionally to rile you up.

It's a mess. It’s filthy. It’s everything you want.

The goddess of love herself is blowing your shaft. Or rather, Karina, the dream woman of million fans, herself has your cock in her mouth. You doubt both are luxuries that just anyone gets to experience.

Maybe Karina is just doing this for her benefit. It would be downright idiotic to think that a goddess would blow your cock for free. But right now, your mind is blank, focused on the single blissful feeling of Karina’s mouth working your length.

A loud gurgle escapes her lips when she swallows your whole shaft, nose pressed against your pelvis. The sudden, constricting warmth of her throat is unexpected. But when a goddess deepthroats you, you don’t complain.

She locks her gaze with yours as she holds your cock captive in her throat. Seconds pass but she shows no sign of backing out, still as determined as ever to keep you trapped in her tight warmth.

As for you, each second passed is another step to utopia, wishing this euphoric feeling never ends. Let her keep your cock warm forever.

But your hope quickly crumbles when she finally releases your cock, leaving it drenched in her drool. A waterfall of saliva stains her blouse, rendering it transparent to the point you can see the slightest hint of her rosy nipples.

“Oh, look like I’ve made a mess,” she says casually, like getting drool on your clothes is a normal occurrence. “I’d better clean up, hmm?”

You don’t understand what she’s talking about until she starts unbuttoning her shirt. Each loose button reveals more of her milky, round globes, peaking around the white fabric. She gets the job done quickly but it’s not like there’s much button left to begin with. Soon, her blouse lays a crumple heap on the floor.

“Like what you see?” she asks, like that’s even a question.

You are mesmerized. You can die happily now, you think. She may not be the real Karina but she’s still….well, Karina. And a full view of her glorious tits, which have their own fandom, is a privilege.

“Yeah…..” your voice comes out a shallow whisper, unable to think of anything except tits, tits and tits.

“Thought so,” she says, standing up and for a moment, you have a horrible thought that she’s gonna leave you like this - wanton and desperate. It’s exactly the kind of thing Aphrodite would do.

Luckily, she’s not feeling cruel today because she gets right back into her schoolgirl persona. “Say, sir. What do you think about stretching me out with that big cock?”

“You don’t even need to ask”

At your reply, Karina settles on your lap, facing you as she slowly guides your throbbing shaft inside her short skirt, her hands coming to rest on the nape of your neck. You watch your cock disappear into her red clothing, until you feel a wetness connect with your tip.

“Fill me up” And just like that, she sinks herself onto your shaft. You both let out a moan in unison. Her, from being utterly stretched out and you, from the way her walls squeeze your length.

Neither of you move for a second, adapting to this new position of depravity. But it doesn’t last long as Karina starts to roll her hips slowly. Your hands instinctively rest on her waist, guiding her movements.

“Fuck, you are so big. Even bigger than Ares…” she groans. You have no idea who she’s talking about but hey, a compliment’s still a compliment.

“Come on. You want those tits, don’t you?” she urges, pushing those busty globes into your face. And you gladly oblige, latching your lips onto one of her stiff nipples.

“Mhmm fuck” she groans as you swipe your tongue at her rosy bud before moving on to the other and doing the same thing. You decide not to be too greedy for now, devoting yourself to tasting one of her milkers, sucking and licking.

She writhes and trembles at the attention you are giving her tits, but her hip action doesn’t waver. She’s still riding you steadily, letting you enjoy her goddess pussy each time your shaft splits it open.

“God, your cock feels so good. So fucking big. Nghh…” She starts to pick up the pace, literally bouncing on your cock now as you turn your attention towards her unattended nipple, enjoying it the same way you did to its predecessor.

This double pleasure, that comes from both her tits and her pussy, can’t be described with words. It’s something beyond human comprehension that you doubt any other mortal could have gone through this and survive.

Her walls squeeze you just right, as if it has memorized every vulnerable spot, tackling with a precision that leaves your mind swimming.

Each time her ass crashes down onto your cock, she lets out a guttural moan. Her huge tits are jiggling so much now that it’s now impossible to put your mouth anywhere near. So you stop trying and enjoy the view.

You feel your body tingling with power, like a nuclear reactor on the verge of exploding. The glow on your pelvis grows brighter until it bathes the classroom in gold. Nevertheless, Karina is relentless - fucking herself on your throbbing cock like a bitch in heat. Who knows goddesses can be so beautiful yet so filthy?

But even the chosen one has his limits as you feel yourself spiralling to the inevitable end of this insatiable lust. The faint tingly feeling on your cock grows stronger until it’s overwhelming and soon, you unravel.

For a moment, all you can see is white as you unload spurt after spurt of your vile seed into Karina. It just keeps coming, everything stored in your balls, spilling into Karina’s cunt as she shudders from her own release. A few grunts follow as Karina rides you until she’s sure she has squeezed out the last drop of your load.

It takes a while to gather your thoughts.

When your senses finally return, Karina has returned to her earlier position on the desk, with the same cross-legged posture. The only difference being her tits out on display and the steady droplets of your cum dripping from under her skirt.

“Well,” she begins, not a hint of exhaustion in her voice, though sweat beads her temple and her hair has become a crumpled mess. “There’s your gift”

You blink. Karina has promised you a new ability but you don’t feel any different.

Then you realize.

You don’t feel any different.

Usually, extreme exhaustion, like you have run a marathon, follows after the mark’s power subsides. But this time, you don’t feel any of the fatigue, the weariness. Then you look down and find the answer.

The mark is still there. It has not disappeared like before. It’s not alight with power but it still glows a faint gold. Does it mean you can control it now?

“The mark….” you mutter.

“Indeed, the mark,” Karina agrees, amused at your realization. “Pretty handy, isn’t it? You don’t need to keep passing out every time you use it”

She is, no doubt, correct. Not only that you haven’t passed out but a fresh surge of energy has started travelling through your body. Your breath catches in your throat as another wave of arousal overwhelms you, and your cock springs up instantly from its limp form.

Karina smirks at the sight. “Easy there, tiger. Or we might stay in this verse forever”

This power. It’s pure and absolute. There’s no more doubt. No more fear. You have embraced what you are.

You are not a god. No. You are something far better. Something a thousand times more perfect. In no time, those who call themselves the divines will cower at your feet. In fact, they already are.

You are snapped out of your triumphant thoughts by the rattling sound of the desk as Karina slides down. She approaches you in slow and measured steps, like you are a bomb which can go off anytime.

“I’m sure we will meet again, Michael,” Karina says, inches away from you now. “For now, farewell”

Once again, she presses two fingers to your forehead.

And you spiral into an endless void.

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

As abruptly as it has started, you find yourself back in your room at Eros’s place. The dim glow of city light filters through the rain-streaked windows, casting shifting patterns on the walls. Outside, New York sprawls endlessly, neon signs flickering, car horns blaring faintly in the distance. The scenery has shifted again.

The storm hasn’t let up either. Rain drums steadily against the glass, its rhythm oddly soothing. You half expect to feel the ache and exhaustion after you have landed face first on the floor but instead, your body hums with a quiet, unfamiliar energy.

You feel better than you have been in days. Better than you should.

Pushing yourself up from the bed, you flex your fingers, testing the sensation. No soreness, no aches. If anything, you feel sharper, like a blade freshly honed.

Suddenly, a chime pulls you from your thoughts.

You glance to the nightstand, where your phone screen glows softly in the dim room. A single notification sits at the top: a dark heart icon from the app you are too familiar with - the Ero app.

New ability acquired.

You snort, but the amusement fades the second you swipe open the screen and catch sight of the new wallpaper.

A bright, obnoxious Hello Kitty background stares back at you.

You sigh “Eros, you motherfuck-”

Shaking your head, you open the app - the same one that dragged you into this whole mess - and freeze.

It’s different.

Before, the Ero app was nothing more than a sleek, minimalistic portal. No menus, no settings - except for some occasional forewords about your quests. But now, the interface has shifted.

At the center of the screen is you. Or at least, a stylized version of you, shirtless, standing with an aura of gold swirling around you. Below it, your Profile is displayed, listing your Abilities in neat, glowing text.

Lust Epidemic. That must be the one which got the hunters acting like bitches in heat.

Domination. You are puzzled for a moment, then remember the mark you have imprinted upon Chaewon, turning her into your obedient slave.

And last but not least.

Endless Ardor. The one Aphrodite has granted.

And then, farther down-

You narrow your eyes.

A section labeled “Goddesses Conquered”.

The figures of Shuhua(Persephone), Chaewon(Artemis) and Karina(Aphrodite) are there, fitted in borders of golden hue. But the rest? Locked Silhouettes, dark and shadowed, their names blurred.

This looks like something out of an rpg game except that everything is real.

At the bottom, something else catches your eyes. A meter labeled Perfection.

It’s at 10%.

You stare at it, a strange unease creeping in. Perfection? What is that supposed to mean? And why does it feel like the app is tracking something you don’t fully understand yet?

Before you can think further, the door swings open.

Eros strides in, smelling like he has drowned in every perfume known to man, dressed in fresh clothes - ripped jeans and a loose button-down that hangs open just enough to be obnoxious. He grins like he owns the place. Which, considering this is his place, might not be far from the truth.

“Morning sunshine,” he drawls. “I come bearing a gift”

You raise an eyebrow. “A gift?”

Eros steps aside and the angel enters.

Kazuha walks in, looking clean and fresh. The wounds on her body are nowhere to be seen. She’s dressed like some kind of agent - fitted tank top, dark jeans and combat boots. Though you have to admit she looks insanely hot, that’s not what catches your attention. It’s what she’s holding.

A leash.

Connected to a collar.

Wrapped around Chaewon’s neck.

You are speechless. The once proud goddess of the hunt, stands on all fours, no different from a dog. There’s not a piece of clothing on her except for the collar around her neck. She stares at you with curiosity, but the fire in her eyes is gone, replaced by utter and complete obedience. Somehow, you get a feeling she’s awaiting an order.

Your order.

Eros chuckles, clapping a hand on your shoulder. “Congratulations, buddy. You have officially tamed a goddess”

♥︎ ♥︎ ♥︎

This one takes quite a while because I have been procrastinating. Thankfully, I get into the mood for some mythological action again. Enjoy.

#girl group smut #male reader #kpop smut #karina smut #aespa smut #lesserafim smut #chaewon smut #kazuha smut #kpop fanfic

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crushmeeren · 3 months ago

Note

Hi, I know you aren’t taking requests right now but I didn’t want to forget it so I’m sending it now for Whenever you open request again.

How do you think the MHA boys would react to your new mom body and “you” being unsure about it. If can be fluffy and/or NSFW

Thank you! 🙂

hi anonnie! sorry for leaving this in my inbox for so long, kinktober was a BITCH. anywho, hope you enjoy and that I included the characters you wanted!

master list link

༝ ᭝ ༝ katsuki ༝ ᭝ ༝

Katsuki’s tired. His bones ache with exhaustion, and he wears dark, bruise like marks underneath his eyes that seem to weigh a thousand pounds. The bright light of his phone screen burns his eyes when he checks for the time.

03:30 a.m.

Katsuki moves gently as he sways back and forth in the rocking chair, his three month old furnace of a son snoozing peacefully on his chest. Finally.

One hand rubs up and down his baby’s back, the other arm supporting his butt. His son babbles softly in his sleep, and Katsuki tilts his head to press a kiss to soft wisps of blonde hair, lingering to deeply inhale the scent of new baby and lavender lotion. Red eyes start to droop, the flutter of his son’s heartbeat and his constant warmth lulling Katsuki to sleep.

His head jerks up with a start, desperately trying to stay awake, and so he rises to his feet, sweatpants falling a bit lower on his hips. With a quietness he’s never possessed before, Katsuki delicately lays his baby down without waking him. He pauses in the doorway, smiling tenderly in the direction of the crib before padding to your bedroom.

Katsuki’s ears perk when muffled sniffling greets him. Alarm bells ring in his head and he all but leaps into the bed, yanking the covers down to stare at you with wide eyes. The soft light of your bedside lamp exposes your tear stricken cheeks.

His stomach drops and then he’s crowding you, shoving himself into your personal space. “Baby, what’s wrong? What happened?” He asks gingerly, brows furrowing as stretches his tank top to wipe your tears away.

Your lower lip wobbles when you bite down on it, and you launch yourself into Katsuki’s chest, knocking him onto his back with an “oof.” You shove your face into the side of his throat, arms curling as you cling to him.

“I can’t stand the way I look!” You sob, lips tickling his skin as you speak. Katsuki wraps you up in a tight hug, heart continuously splintering with each one of your labored sobs. “I love our son, so much, but looking in the mirror hurts.”

“Oh baby.” Katsuki’s voice cracks, firm hands framing your wet cheeks and guiding you to your elbows. He needs you to see the serious look his eyes. “Change is hard, but change is so fuckin’ good. You may not look exactly the same as before, but there’s not a damn thing wrong with that. You created our fuckin’ son. There’s nothin’ more beautiful to me in this world than that.” There are stars in his eyes as he gazes at you, cementing his belief in his own words.

Your expression crumples and you collapse onto his chest, soaking his shirt in tears as you hug him. “You promise?” You sniffle, tone a bit more hopeful than before.

“I swear on my fuckin’ life.” Katsuki secures you in his hold and rolls the two of you, hovering on one elbow as he pushes loose hair off your forehead. “Please, will you let me show you?”

The flush on your face forces a familiar honeyed heat to pool low in Katsuki’s belly, your sheepish nod all the permission he needs.

You gasp softly when his fingers slip your panties to the side, fingers barely touching your clit. It’s effortless for him to fill you completely with his thick cock, to press sweet words into your throat as he makes love to you. His chest is sticky with sweat, and you can’t get enough of the way he whines high pitched each time your pleasure overwhelms you and your pussy squeezes him.

Katsuki quite literally shows you how beautiful you are to him, and when you’re cradled on his chest afterwards, you start to believe that you are.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

༝ ᭝ ༝ shouto ༝ ᭝ ༝

“Will you shower with me?”

The lingering memories of warm water raining down on his skin, steam curling up into the air and your naked body run across Shouto’s mind. You raise an eyebrow in return, lifting your daughter from her high chair when she reaches for you.

“I don’t know, Sho.” Your gaze flickers to the side, avoiding direct eye contact. Shouto’s brows pinch together, frowning at your uncharacteristically shy response.

“Why?” It’s been ages since you’ve showered together. Since you’ve had sex, really. Not that he’s upset, he’s enamored with your daughter, but he misses you. A lot.

“I just don’t want to,” you say sharply, turning your back to him and walking towards your kitchen sink. Your tone doesn’t sit well with Shouto and he follows after you. He places a hand on your shoulder, hurt welling in his chest when you stiffen at his touch.

He lets his hand fall limply to his side. “Please, tell me what’s wrong. I want to understand.”

You sigh almost imperceptibly, slowly shifting to face him, and you hike your daughter further up on your hip. She giggles when she spots her daddy, little hands grabbing for him, and Shouto scoops her up with a loving smile.

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” you mutter, eyes trained on the back of your daughter’s head, softly brushing white hair behind her ears.

Shouto blinks a few times. “What do you mean?”

“You know, with the hideous scars and all.”

“Oh.” The silence is deafening. You freeze, eyes widening as your head snaps upwards with a horrified expression. Your jaw opens and closes as you clutch his forearm in a death grip.

“Sho, no — wait, that’s not what I meant. I’m sorry—,”

“Do you believe that I’m ugly? Even with my scar?” He asks, not unkindly.

You shake your head vigorously. “No, of course not! I think you’re beautiful the way you are.”

Shouto hums, hugging your daughter tightly to his chest. She grabs his shoulders, nuzzling her face into his neck. “So what leads you to believe it’s any different for me?”

“I didn’t think of it that way,” you admit, shrugging lamely, unable to come up with an answer. Shouto wordlessly laces his free hand with yours, and after settling your baby down for the night, he ushers you to your bathroom.

There’s no need to speak when Shouto helps you strip out of your clothes, goosebumps littering your arms when the fingertips of his left hand chill involuntarily and tickle your ribs. He’s bare within the minute, leading you under the hot spray of water in the next.

Shouto walks you backwards and presses you to the cool tile of the wall, steam circling upwards and suffocating the two of you. You grasp at his slippery shoulders, tilting your head while he leaves biting kisses along your throat. Shouto traces the c-section scar along your belly as if it’s something precious, touch featherlight before guiding you to flip and brace your hands on the wall.

The initial stretch of his cock sends a shiver of heat down your spine. The humid atmosphere making everything that much slicker, that much hotter. He places his hands over your scar to steady himself and holds you close, rolling his hips steadily until you’re crying his name and pushing at his belly because it’s too much.

Shouto’s determined to show you everyday that scars are to be cherished. They’re apart of you, and not a single inch of you could ever be ugly to him.

⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣ ༝ ⇣

༝ ᭝ ༝ eijirou ༝ ᭝ ༝

It’s date night, and your fingers twitch with nerves as you finish putting up your hair. The two of you haven’t been able to go out alone for the past several months. Having a new baby is ruthless. It’s not for the weak, but you love every second of it, and you’re certain Eijirou does too.

It’s just…. You look different, now. Your body’s shifted and changed in ways you never imagined, but you wouldn’t trade your son for the world. It’s just taking more time than you expected to get adjusted in your new body.

Eijirou’s bright voice echoes in the living room, and your son’s echoing delighted peal of laughter warms your chest. With a defeated sigh, you glance at yourself in the mirror and smooth your hands over your stomach, tugging at your shirt.

Eijirou calls out to you and you tell him you’re ready, slipping on your shoes and mustering up enough fake confidence to fool your husband for the evening. When you round the corner, he’s pretending to toss your son up into the air, little happy squeals filling the air. You lock eyes with your husband and genuinely smile, halting next to them and kissing your baby all over his face.

Eijirou kisses him too, reluctantly handing him over to his mother, who graciously volunteered to be on babysitting duty for the night. Once you’re out, Eijirou’s positive energy is infectious, fueling all of his actions and tainting yours too.

Still, a voice in the back of your mind nags at you about your appearance, and gradually your demeanor wilts. Eijirou notices, but he tries to lift your spirits anyways, wanting to save the serious conversation for when you get home. He wants you to enjoy yourself for the time being.

Eijirou gives you space when you return home. He gives you space when you bid his mother goodbye and when you put your son down for the night.

But as soon as you’re alone, Eijirou’s holding your hands and walking backwards until he lands on the edge of the bed, guiding you to sit in his lap and straddle his thighs. He stares up at you, settling his hands on your hips with a puzzled look.

“What’s on your mind my love? You seemed distracted tonight.” He squeezes your hips encouragingly. You purse your lips together, squeezing your eyes shut in the face of your self loathing as you confess how you’ve been feeling.

“So yeah, it’s just been a struggle recently. I’m worried you won’t love me the same because of how different I look now.” You bite the inside of your lip, waiting on edge for his response.

“Look at me,” he demands, gentle yet firm, as always. Your eyes flash open and he places a large hand on your cheek. “Sweetheart, you’ve changed multiple times since we’ve met, and I’ve only ever thought you’ve gotten more beautiful. It’s no different this time. Your feelings are valid of course, but just know you’ve always been, and always will be, the stunning woman I fell in love with. Until death do us part, right?”

You’re can’t be held responsible for the bruising kiss you startle him with. Warm lips and the faint hint of Eijirou’s cologne filling your head with cotton and making your heart thunder. Actions mean more than words, and your husband demonstrates the truth of that statement.

He manhandles you to the side of your bed where a mirror rests on the wall across from you, bending you into some half form of a full Nelson to force you into a front row seat of your pussy swallowing his cock. Eijirou hooks his chin over your shoulder and the heat in his eyes burns you alive. He whispers filthy praise into your ear, sending you over the edge in record time.

Eijirou will remind you of your beauty each day for the rest of your lives, if that’s what it takes.

#bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #shouto todoroki x reader #bakugou smut #kirishima smut #todoroki smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #todoroki shouto #shouto smut #bakugou katsuki #kirishima eijirou #shouto todoroki

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kenjisatos · 8 months ago

Text

MSBY BLACK JACKALS READ THIRST TWEETS ! (SAKUSA EDITION)

will probably make this a series. i just love this team so darn much *sigh*

[atsumu version]

this fic features…

haikyuu timeskip!spoilers, highly suggestive content (as the title entails), inappropriate language, sus atsumu 🤨, genre: crack, some of these are actual tweets i found lol.

Set the scene: the MSBY quartet shuffle into frame, they each take their seat in front of the iconic blue backdrop. You hear Hinata and Bokuto exchanging lively words, Atsumu fixing his hair so it swooshes the right way, and Sakusa removing his face mask and handing it to their team’s pr manager who accompanied them to this shoot.

“Is one of us gonna say it or are we all gonna say it together?” Hinata asks, looking at his teammates.

“I think we should all say it,” Atsumu replies, to which Sakusa nods in agreement.

Bokuto claps his hands together, getting excited. “Let’s do this!”

- cut scene -

“Hi, we’re the MSBY Black Jackals and we’re here with Buzzfeed to read your thirst tweets!” They say in unison.

Bokuto makes a jazz hands gesture, “Sakusa Kiyoomi edition~” he sings, as Hinata bounces in his chair and Atsumu slaps Sakusa’s back in an attempt to hype up the outside hitter.

Sakusa sighs and lets out a defeated chuckle, “Lord, help me…”

- cut scene -

The crew tosses Sakusa a phone, he catches it easily and takes a deep breath before reading.

“I need MSBY’s #15 to bend that flexible hand inside my bussy. Please and thank you.”

Sakusa quirks a confused brow, “What’s a bussy?”

Atsumu snickers. Hinata smiles, “Well, at least we know Omi-kun isn’t chronically online.”

Bokuto puts an arm around Sakusa’s chair, knowing better than to drape it around him or else he’d throw a cold glare his way. “I told you to get on Tiktok, Omi.”

Sakusa rolls his eyes, “I am not getting that dancing app, Bokuto.”

Bokuto’s lips funnel into a pout, “Then how are you gonna learn the language of the people?”

“What, like bussy?”

Atsumu childishly laughs again. “Haha…bussy…”

Sakusa tsks, “Are you gonna tell me what it is already or what?”

Hinata sighs and puts his hands together, “I am sorry to tell you this, Omi-kun, but it means—“

“Butt pussy!” Atsumu blurts out, unable to hold it in any longer. “Like a boy’s pussy, Omi-Omi. Get it?”

Sakusa’s expression is one that makes it look like he was in physical pain, which he might as well be in at the moment. He side eyes Bokuto, “That’s the so-called language of your people?”

“It’s funnier when Miya isn’t combusting.”

Sakusa sighs, “I’m not using that word, let alone using my flexible wrists for it.” He says before he passes the phone to Hinata, who reads the next tweet:

“Dear Sakusa Kiyoomi, *taps mic and clears throat* NO LUBE, NO PROTECTION, ALL NIGHT, ALL DAY, FROM THE KITCHEN FLOOR TO THE BATHROOM SINK, FROM THE DINING TABLE TO THE BEDROOM—“

Hinata lowers the phone and says, “That’s it. That’s the tweet.”

Atsumu wolf whistles and Bokuto hoots while shaking his head. Hinata is biting his thumb, trying NOT to burst out in laughter.

Sakusa blinks once, twice, before speaking up. “That’s…wow that sounds filthy.”

Atsumu barks with laughter, “Literally!”

Sakusa’s eyes widen in horror, “The bathroom?? Seriously? I get the other places, but really? The dirty bath—“

Bokuto intervenes, “Woah woah there Omi, you get the other places?”

Hinata snickers, “You hiding your freaky side from us, Omi-kun?”

Sakusa groans, dragging his hands over his face. “Please, let’s not discuss this on Youtube dot com”. He recovers and clears his throat, looking right at the camera, “Make wise choices, censored user.”

Hinata passes the phone to Atsumu. The blond setter chuckles before he even reads it out loud, Sakusa already feels the dread awaiting him.

“It’s the broad shoulders and tiny waist and the compression sleeves and the undershirt and the butt and that neck and those curls and his eyes,” Atsumu reads through breathless laughter.

He turns the phone around so that his teammates can see the screen, “And then, they attached a screenshot from a manga that simply transcribes ��cock sucking noises’!” He wheezes, nearly dropping the phone.

Bokuto’s mouth hangs open but no noise comes out as he struggles to catch his breath, leaning his weight into Atsumu who is just as equally—if not more—cracked than he is. Hinata is busy hiding his face with his hands as he laughs, nearly folding himself up from how far he’s leaning down from his seat. Sakusa is watching his teammates loss their minds as he begins to question his life choices that led him to this moment.

Sakusa sighs, “There will be no cock sucking noises, but thank you for the compliment.”

Atsumu begins to recover, “Oh man…” he wipes a tear, “Omi-Omi, stand up and let ‘em see that slutty waist of yours.”

Sakusa shoots Atsumu a deadly look. Bokuto cheers to encourage Sakusa, while Hinata can’t help but glance at Sakusa’s waist.

“Allow me to correct myself; there will be no cock sucking noises nor will there be any showing offs of the slutty waist.”

Atsumu and Bokuto boo, Sakusa rolls his eyes at their reaction. Hinata winks at the camera, “But there will be some slutty waists in next week’s Calvin Klein feature that Sakusa did.”

Sakusa hums, “Yeah, so save those thoughts until then.”

Atsumu passes the phone back to Bokuto, who mumbles: “C’mon give me a good one…”

Bokuto clears his throat, “Sakusa Kiyoomi might be an outside hitter for MSBY, but i need him to be an INSIDE HITTER for this pus—“, he turns to the camera, “They cut themselves off there.”

Sakusa winces at those words. Hinata laughs, “I like the play on words.”

Sakusa adjusts his posture, “That would be very painful, no?”

Atsumu clarifies, “I think that’s what they want, Omi-Omi.”

Bokuto rubs his chin in thought, “Sakusa hits spikes pretty hard…I can’t imagine how hard he could go inside user-san’s—“

Sakusa waves his hand panickedly, “Please don’t finish that sentence.” He glances at their pr manager, who—by some unexplainable miracle—hasn’t said anything so far.

Sakusa clears his throat, “Unless the pay is higher, I will not be changing my position to your inside hitter, sorry. Actually, I lied; I am not sorry.”

The phone gets passed back to Sakusa, “Sakusa Kiyoomi has 47 moles and I intend to suck each and every one of them off his body.”

Hinata giggles mischievously, “Miya-san, did you write that?”

“I DID NOT WRITE THAT!”

Bokuto cackles, “How else did the user know the exact amount of moles on Sakusa’s body? You’re the one that’s always staring at each of us in the locker room.”

“WE DON’T EVEN KNOW IF THAT NUMBER IS ACCURATE!!”

Sakusa speaks up calmly, “It is accurate, actually.”

Atsumu goes pale at his words, “O-oh okay…but that doesn’t mean I wrote it!!!”

Sakusa disguises a laugh as a cough, “As much as I love to pick on Miya—“

“HEY!”

“—I’m still impressed that the Twitter user got that number right. Bravo.” He then applauds. Bokuto and Hinata follow. “Maybe I’ll let you do what you said since you got it right.”

Hinata elbows Sakusa suggestively, to which Sakusa repels away from his touch, “Okayyy, Omi. Get it, I guess. Need me to find the user’s number?”

“No.” Sakusa says immediately, but he’s concealing a smirk. He passes the phone to the winking orange-head.

Hinata begins to read: “For Sakusa Kiyoomi, I would bathe in 99.9% disinfectant, drink that shit, even inject myself with it—if it meant getting a shot at bagging that man.”

Sakusa rolls his eyes, already huffing. “Look, I don’t know who started the rumor that I’m a crazy germaphobe, but let me sit the record straight now: I am not that deranged; I just like things to be clean and tidy.”

Bokuto nods, crossing his arms, “Yeah, you tell ‘em, Omi!”

Atsumu shakes his head in disappointment, “Ya guys keep making Omi-Omi sound like some freak. Yeah, he wears a mask everywhere and carries hand sanitizer wherever he goes, but that’s just basic hygiene standards. Do better.”

Hinata points at the camera with his chin up, “Yeah, the only time Omi-kun is a freak is when it’s in the sheets.”

“SHOYO!”

“HINATA, HEYYY!”

Sakusa facepalms and sighs, “Give me my mask back; I’m leaving.”

“NO, OMI-KUN, WAAAAAIT . I’M SORRY—“

“This is supposed to be a thirst tweets video, and yet my teammates seem to be the thirstiest of all.” Sakusa says to no one in particular.

“Call it team-bonding. Meian would be proud.” Atsumu responds, imagining the look of approval on their captain’s face.

Sakusa tilts his head back, appearing to be praying to some god. He looks back at the camera, “But to that user, please don’t do that. That’s deadly.”

Bokuto clasps his hands together, “Awww, Omi cares~”

- cut scene -

Sakusa tosses the phone back to the crew, “And that’s all, thank god.”

Hinata grins, “Thanks for sending us your tweets and traumatizing our Omi-kun.”

Sakusa grimaces, “Ah yeah, it was a delight.” He says sarcastically.

Atsumu flashes the camera a charming smile, “Tune in for the upcoming videos of the rest of us reading your thirst tweets.”

Bokuto throws up finger guns to the camera, “Can’t wait to see what you guys have in store for us!”

“This was the MSBY Black Jackals, goodbye!”

kenjisatos

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