#little does he know I try to smell good every time I see him for that exact reason

[milktiicup]

H-h-hey.. senpai… I was wondering if you could make more about Mr Crawling! (I LOVEDDD YOUR PREVIOUS FAN FIC ABT HIM) because he’s such a cutie tbh and I love him sm so I was wondering maybe if you could make something about how he would react to the reader spending more time with someone else (coworker preferably!)

Feel free to ignore if you don’t want to do this..!

(Can I be 🦁 anon?)

the jealous type!

His face scrunches. “Not you… smell bad. Someone else.”

‧₊ ᵎᵎ 🍒 ⋅ ˚✮ omg my first anon >.< ofc u can be 🦁 anon!!!!

warnings. more fluff/comfort hehe, spoilers for end04

It’s late when you return home. If it was any other day, you’d be scheming around the streets with your crowbar- but life is different now. 

You have a commitment at home. Your new roommate… boyfriend? thing. It’s almost as routine as having a pet; coming home, giving him a pat on the head, giving him his completely normal legally obtained soup and ending the day snuggled up on the sofa with him at your feet. 

Sure, he’s the one who came with you all the way from that other world and didn’t have any friends here, but does that mean you can’t? It’s not like you could bring Mr. Crawling with you to work, or after work drinks with your coworkers. Normal people can still see him, after all. He’s just… a little hard for other people to notice- you picked up on that when your parents dropped by on an impromptu visit one evening.

When you kick your shoes off when you come in through the front door, you feel guilty. You can tell he’s a bit down- of course, Mr. Crawling still tackled greeted you with his overzealous, unnecessarily over the top hug. 

“You return!” he says, every time without fail. 

“I return,” you reply, petting his head, but something feels off. He doesn’t let go immediately, and his usual enthusiasm is muted.

Mr. Crawling pauses, his face stuffed into your neck. You quirk a brow, curiously eyeing him as he takes a big sniff of your skin and clothes. His face scrunches. “Not you… smell bad. Someone else.”

Is he the jealous type? Wow, and since when was his sense of smell so good?

“You can smell my friend?” you blink at him, cringing as you feel a knot in your stomach. You try to explain, “Uhm… someone else… uhhhh… my friend.”

“Other friend?” Mr. Crawling frowns, sitting back on his feet, the space between you growing slightly colder.

You pull yourself up from the floor, careful to meet his uncertain gaze. “Other friend,” you confirm.

“Friend… same me?”

You sigh, wishing this language was more descriptive. It’s hard to explain something so complex when neither of you really understands it fully. You tap your fingers nervously against your leg, thinking. “I don’t understand…” you sigh, the weight of the misunderstanding settling on you. “They’re human.”

Mr. Crawling’s frown only grows deeper. He shakes his head, and scoots himself closer to you. He wraps his arms around your waist, his hair falling over the both of you as if trying to shield you from everything outside of your house. “Friend like this?” 

Resting your head on his shoulder, you let out a content sigh. “Not like this, Crawling.”

“You one. You me two. Not like three.” His grip tightens around you, pulling you as close as he possibly can, like he’s afraid you’ll slip away. “Me like you. Worry… not like me. Gone long time… Smell someone else.”

You pull back slightly, feeling the pressure of his arms around you. He’s not just possessive, he’s scared. You stretch your arms out. “Like you. Big like. See? This much!” You hold your hands closer together, parallel to each other. “Friend ok. Little like. Understand?”

You chuckle lightly, but the soft pang in your chest makes you pause. “You get it now, Crawling?” you mumble. You reach up and scratch his head absently, a familiar gesture that seems to soothe both of you. “Uhm… when I leave, I go to work. You know work, right?” He nuzzles into your palm, and you just assume he does, for the time being. “Work friend! Not important. You important. You, uh… you understand me?”

“Me understand,” he murmurs into your palm, his cool lips tickling the skin. “Smell bad… Me only like you. You smell good."

"I know you like me, Crawling. I like you, too."

He lets out a satisfied hum, his body relaxing again, and for a brief moment, you wonder if he’s truly getting it—or if he just likes the idea of being yours as much as you like the idea of him being yours. He pulls your head closer to his chest, and that’s when you decide you don’t really need to build rapport with your coworkers that much, not when you have a cute ghost waiting for you back at home.

[bruisedboys]

jacket boy and I kissed again last night and I won’t make u suffer through the details, but at one point I put my hand in his hair and asked if that was okay. and he goes “yeah … yes please” and he was all like, breathless?????????? I mean … yes sir whatever u want 🫡 your wish is my command beautiful

[nezuscribe]

it's been three weeks since arranged!gojo, your husband, the man you're growing to care deeply for, told you he'd be back.

there was some dispute he needed to oversee with the eastern tribes, something about the land that one was fighting for, but he promised, promised, it wouldn't take over a week to settle.

now it's been nearly a month, and there has not been a single word from him.

your maids told you this was normal, but you didn't miss how they spoke in hushed tones, their brows furrowed nervously whenever the name gojo came up.

you can't sleep in his bed, the smell of him overtaking your senses and making you go insane. you go back to your old room, huffing as you turn around each night, not able to sleep. other times you'd pace the floors, picking at your nails until they bled, wondering about what could've happened, not able to shake off your last moments with him whenever you got to thinking too hard.

"i'll be back," he had murmured in your hair, cradling you close to his chest as he said his goodbyes. his strong arms caged you in, and you had no room to fight him off as you tried to nod.

"bring back some eastern sugar," you said, "i've heard it's good for pies," your words were muffled, trying to cheer up the mood. you heard him laugh, his chest rumbling a little bit, but there was a hint of anxiety laced in it.

"i'll miss you," gojo finally whispered, his men in the background shouting for the others to hurry up.

"i know," you mumbled, craning your head to look up at him, trying to crack a smile that just came out wobbly, "but i won't tell you i missed you till you come back."

he smiled, rolling his eyes as his thumb ran up and down your cheek.

"i promise i will."

well now it's four weeks later and you can't sleep at night, your past words haunting you, wondering if you should've just told him what he wanted to hear in case...

but a couple nights later, when you're sitting at your desk, looking out the window, you hear it.

the clacking of horse hoofs, their scattered neighs.

you almost think you've gone delirious from sleep deprivation, rubbing at your eyes as you stumble closer to the windowsill, squinting your eyes as you look in the dark.

but you see the distant torch, the way it's getting closer and closer to the estate.

you have no care for modesty, pulling a thin robe over your body as you run out of your door, nearly falling down the stairs as you skip every other one, your bare feet hitting the stone with such force that you nearly break it.

the maids and servants around you are bustling to get ready for their return, but you don't care, weaving your way through their bodies as you run out through the entrance. you can feel your feet getting scraped up by the rocks, the cold autumn wind biting at your barely clad skin, but you feel like you're not moving fast enough.

his horse is the first one you see, leading the group of tired and aching men. his black stallion is dark as the night itself, and you doubt he can see you.

but gojo does, and when his eyes find the shadow of your body from across the field he's abandoning formation, his feet kicking the side of the horse to make it go faster.

it's rushed, and the closer he gets the more you can see the damage on his body. the bandages around his arms, the ones that peek out from his tunic on his shoulder. his face is littered with scrapes and bruises, but his smile is blinding.

you run to meet him, watching as he mounts off of the animal, his strong arms throwing themselves around you are nearly crushing and almost makes you stumble backward if not for his support.

there's a heavy silence that follows, and you're glad that his men take the hint to go another way, knowing the dangers of leaving you two out alone on a field.

you can't breathe, your arms so tight around his neck that you're worried you might be choking him. the way he lifts you to get you closer to him would make your body heat up if not for the fact that you know he needs you to be almost one with him.

"i thought you died," you say bluntly, your words said wetly into his neck, your scattered tears wetting his skin.

"i know," gojo murmurs, feeling like he can finally breathe for the first time in a month.

he finds your lips in a messy kiss, biting at your plush skin as you moan, feeling like if he didn't have you near to him he'd probably die. he smells your lavender oil dotted on your neck, the lingering sweetness on your lips from something you probably baked to help with your stress.

his hands lift you up further by your hips, his strength, despite his injuries, still unbridled as you wrap your legs around his waist, your fingers weaving into his snow-white locks as you hear him mumble curses beneath you.

"i missed you," you say against his lips, his feverish kisses driving you to madness. the way you say it with a choked-out sob, your tears mixing with his own.

gojo whines, biting at your neck as he tries to hide his face away, the vulnerability that you bring out of him is something that even his enemies would probably gawk over.

"i promised i'd come back," his voice is nearly gone with the way he says it in between his sloppy kisses on your neck, tugging at the fabric that hides the bareness of your chest with his teeth.

you crane your head to look at him, hitting the back of his head gently with an angered look.

"three weeks late," you reprimand him, almost reveling in the stricken and kicked look he gives you with those eyes.

he goes to say something but stops, shuffling your weight onto one of his arms (he had the right to brag about his strength), and rummages around one of the pockets of his trousers, pulling out a bag as he waves it in front of your face.

you gasp, suddenly climbing off of him as you turn it around with your fingers. he pouts at the fact that you detached from him, trying to wrap his arms around your waist to haul you back up.

"is this...?" you look up at him, new tears sprouting in your eyes as you wail, almost dramatically as your head hits his chest with a thump, pulling him into another hug as you seem to sob louder from when you first saw him.

"you cry more over the sugar than me?" he mutters petulantly, his hand still cradling the back of your head as you just limply stand there.

"don't ever leave again." you bite out, pinching his back as he yelps, but still leaving a searing kiss on the side of your face.

"i won't...my lady," he whispers teasingly, and this time, his promise is undying. he'd be a stupid man if he ever willing left this again.

fuck those state affairs. gojo would rather be home with his wife, watching her bake as she scolds him for eating her batter.

[the-melancholic-human]

I am still pissed off that i wrote something super cute about single mom reader and simon, and tumblr didn’t save it in my drafts

But more on the topic of nobleman simon riley with the young cute wife he got himself from the village to calm me down:

Simon never thought of himself as someone who would enjoy the little moments of life, when he looked at a sunset he would simply see that, a sunset, nothing more, but his wife, no no no she’s the polar opposite

When she picks fresh tomatoes from their garden and drops them into her skirt, she’s laughing out loud, her cheeks rosy pink from the summer heat and the pure joy that seems to run in her veins. She holds up the tomatoes to simon, yelling out his name to get his attention, and simon is just sitting on a chair reading a book trying to not think about all the dirt under his wife’s nails and how damp the garden walls smell during the humid summers, but his wife, oh no she’s running around grabbing tomatoes from the bushes, while she hums a melody quietly

“Mr riley!! Look at this one! It’s so red!”

“ ‘s jus’ a tomato, woman, please keep y’voice down”

And when her skirt is full of tomatoes she runs back to simon, dropping all of the red bulbs of freshness right onto his cleaned and steamed pants

“I got you all of these! Aren’t you happy??”

“ y’skirt is absolutely filthy, ‘s it so hard to jus’ act a bit more timid?”

She shakes her head, laughing at his comment, as she grabs one of the tomatoes from simon’s lap and rubs off the dirt on her dress, and takes a bite

“I think you should losen up a bit you know? Take that stick out of where the sun don’t shine”

She laughs at her own joke, simon on the other hand scrunches up his nose at the rude string of words that his so called wife just spat out at him

But you know

Even though he gets angry at his wife for rolling around in mud all day, for jumping up and down on the bed, for scaring the maid ten times a day, for chasing around the ducks and chickens, for swearing every time she drops something

He can’t help how his heart skips a beat when he hears her scream and laugh and shout and swear. And here’s the thing, simon is starting to like the chaos she seems to bring to everything

And before he knows it, he’s standing up from his chair in the garden, holding the girl’s soft hand, as he lets her walk him to the tomato bushes. And he actually kneels in the mud, cautiously grabbing a red tomato and lightly tugging on it, looking at his wife for reassurance,

“See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

And when she runs her fingers through his hair with those dirty hands, like she’s petting a lost puppy, simon absolutely loses it

And he laughs! Like an idiot who’s in love! He hates himself for it. But, you know, he can keep the anger for another time, right now he’ll just sit there and let his wife tug at his blonde hair while the warm sun shines down on his pale and freckled face. And he breaths, for what feels like the first time in years.

The maid runs out, holding her dress in her fists as she scolds simon

“Sir! Please for the love of god get up! I’ve just washed your clothes!”

“Y’know… i think ‘m good here, and i think… y’need to take tha’ stick out of where the sun don’ shine”

God he looks up at you with a proud look, like he’s done something so bad and he needs your approval for it, and when you nod your head with a smile he just melts.

Just saying, the poor maid does not like your behavior one bit, especially now that it’s rubbing off on simon.

[illubean]

Imagine being his loving wife who loves to cook for him

and one day he pisses you off somehow and so what do you decide to do? cook his favorite dish of course

with an ungodly amount of salt

Your husband absolutely loves your cooking, so when he returned home from work to smell the warm scent of his favorite meal all of his troubles washed away.

You greeted him as sweetly and lovingly as you do every day, leading him to the dinner table and serving him his meal. You were beaming, seemingly excited for him to dig in.

And upon the first bite, he had to fight the urge to scrunch his face in both surprise and disgust. Not wanting to hurt your feelings, he gave you a shaky thumbs up with a simple "It's...really good."

Feigning ignorance, you asked him "What's wrong? Does it taste okay? You don't have to lie to me y'know, I can take it!"

"Well...it's a little salty."

He immediately started to panic at the sight of your eyes welling up with tears, immediately regretting his decision. How could he say that to you? You're perfect and he's such an awful husband for making you cry.

He frantically tries to calm you down, finishing the rest of his food in one go as a way to prove to you how much he enjoyed it (newsflash: he didn't).

"Please don't cry! Look, I finished it see? Mmmm, so good, thank you for the meal!"

Almost as quickly as you started, your cries stopped and turned into a sinister chuckle.

"I know it was bad, I did that on purpose. Next time don't piss me off, yeah?"

He stared dumfounded as you walked away, trying to recall what he did. Whatever it was, he had to make sure he'd never do it again.

NISHINOYA YUU, Daichi Sawamura, Joseph Joestar, Josuke Higashkata (like father like son amirite), GIYUU TOMIOKA, Obanai Iguro, Zenitsu Agatsuma, Tanjiro Kamado, Yuuta Okkotsu, Takuma Ino and ur favs

haha tried something new today >.<

[slttygeto]

I'd love to see me from your pov — GOJO S.

synopsis: Gojo Satoru seems to struggle with the idea of love and doesn't quite know where to stand. Luckily for him, you're there to soothe his worries every time.

word count: 2,1k

content warning: a tiny bit of angst, but you know me and my love for this man.

note: hi hello there :)! it's October which means it's the 4th year anniversary since the release of ariana's album positions! I adore that album with all of my being, and what better way to show my love than to dedicate some of my favorite songs to my favorite anime men? enjoy reading!

Satoru has never known what love is. His parents’ marriage was an arranged one, his mother’s good looks and her status along with his father’s powerful technique is what brought them together. And nine months later, the wielder of the six eyes was born. Raised in an environment where his father was barely around, the only warmth he’s ever felt was his mother’s hand holding his smaller one as she walks him around the Gojo estate, showing off the boy whose birth altered the balance of the world. 

Then she was off to do her duties as Madame Gojo. 

Satoru remembers his childhood as being extremely dull. He was forbidden from social interactions, was told that they are useless unless the person was of any benefit to him or his powers—which at the time, six year old Satoru didn’t understand but he had no choice but to comply with his father’s words. 

Bright pair of blue eyes would then follow his father’s figure as he made his way towards the sliding paper door, but before he could leave, the tall man turned towards his wife whose eyes remained glued to her lap before announcing. 

“I’ll be off.” Whether that meant for hours, days or weeks, Satoru never knew. 

Logically, that led to the creation of his image on love and marriage. He avoided the two concepts like the plague. Love was always meant to find others before it could even glance his way, and Satoru was okay with that. 

He was okay with spending the rest of his time alone, maybe he would buy a house on the top of a hill and own a nice border collie dog. Perhaps, that dog would show him a little bit of loyalty and love because Satoru feeds it and takes it on walks, but when the sun goes down and the dog goes to sleep, it would be just Satoru and his thoughts. Dying alone sounded scary, but it was better than ending up like his parents.

“Are you okay?” The tall man feels a gentle squeeze on his large hand. Suddenly, he’s pulled back into the present. 

The smell of fresh roses and the cold breeze overwhelm his senses. He blinks and realizes that he must’ve taken off his blindfold somewhere—Satoru can’t remember where, or why he got so lost in his thoughts.

“Satoru?” That voice. That sweet, warm and honeyed voice, barely above a whisper as it calls out his name and he gets another whiff of something—perfume.

Your perfume.

You’re standing next to him, smaller frame and smaller hand squeezing his own and he remembers why he was pulled back into his childhood. 

You had squeezed his hand the same way his mother did. Except this time, you don’t pull away like she does. In fact, you haven't pulled away in years. 

When Suguru left, Satoru was trying to piece himself back together within the confines of his own place. Quiet, cold and unwelcoming. He despised the feeling, it made him feel like shit and Satoru was usually the type to ignore his feelings—so when they come crashing against him in strong waves, the strongest can’t duck down and avoid them, he can’t swim away and find refuge. He chooses to believe that he is his own refuge, even if he’s messy and selfish and quite literally just a jerk. The strongest was unable to save his own best friend from a fate that is so horrible, one that could’ve easily been avoided had he looked harder. 

Had he not been raised that way. 

“Satoru?” 

On a cold October night in 2007, you show up at Satoru’s apartment with food and homemade sweets. You’re sweaty, clearly having climbed up the stairs since you had no access to the elevator. He sees you, he cannot process the reason for your sudden visit until he sees your lip quiver and your eyes fill with tears.

“I’m sorry.” You say with so much emotion that the teenager can only try to stop himself from digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands. 

Although he only realizes it years later, the only person who had shown Satoru that he was worth a bit of love was Suguru. He had been your classmate too, your friend. You’re grieving his absence too, but you choose to stay with Satoru that night. He doesn’t say much, you don’t press him about it. 

He doesn’t understand why. 

A couple of months pass, your visits become more regular. He buys you a mattress and even suggests you move in with him in the guest room of his apartment. And after much consideration, you agree and the two of you become roommates.

What had once been a cold, uncomfortable apartment slowly turns into a refuge for Satoru, a place he looks forward to coming back to after a long day of missions. Was it because of the smell of food that fills the hallway as he approaches the door, or the thought of finding you in there when he inserts the key? Satoru isn’t sure yet.

He’s still a bit confused as to why you want to be around him.

Months turn into years, your presence remains a constant in his and Megumi’s lives when he takes him in. You have your own room that you choose to share with Tsumiki and you treat the two children like your own. The strongest believes that your heart is as big as the oceans combined.

For someone whose youth was stolen away by the Jujutsu society, Satoru tries to make sure that his students don’t meet the same fate. So he takes on countless missions, protects students like they’re his own children and promises them a bright future. Even if it’s at the expense of his own. 

You hate that, and you make it clear to him the day he takes in Yuuta.

“That’s such bullshit.”

“Hey, watch it.”

“No, you listen to me!” This is the most emotion you’ve shown since that one night you came to visit him. Satoru looks up from his phone where he’s sitting, and is a bit taken aback when he sees your eyes fill up with tears. “Do you realize how dangerous it is to be going around and doing shit like that?” 

“What–saving them?”

“Ruining your future!” You raise your hands in the air. 

“I don’t have a future.” 

The room falls silent. Suddenly, you’re glad that Megumi and Tsumiki weren’t home. Your eyes meet his, and the white haired male watches as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. There’s a thousand expressions on your face—betrayal? Hurt? Worry? He can’t decipher them.

He is overwhelmed. His six eyes are screaming at him that your cursed energy was elevating, your body temperature was rising and he can see that your chest is heaving. 

He still doesn’t realize what he had just said. 

To him, it was the truth. There was nothing morbid about his words. If he couldn’t see himself marrying or falling in love, then Satoru simply did not have a future. Those children do, and that’s what he should prioritize.

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t–”

“Satoru–” you lose your breath as you utter his name, broken and weak. You gulp harshly, heart pounding loudly in your ears. “You can’t say that.”

It’s selfish, you’re aware of that, but it can’t be helped. You watch as the light of the man you had been clinging onto like a lifeline for years starts to dim, and you scramble to find the source of the problem. 

And while Satoru’s six eyes are screaming at him to walk away, his heart pins him to the ground of his living room. Overwhelmed and emotional, it reminds him of that one lonely night. He can’t tell you how he feels, he can’t pinpoint to you that it’s because of his parents that his heart refuses to let him accept the idea of love. He sees the waves coming, large and tall and ready to destroy him years later—as he scrambles to find refuge, his heart finally feels at ease.

Your arms wrap tightly around his middle, chin resting on his shoulder and your hands digging into his shoulders in an attempt to soothe him. You want to stop your chest from stuttering, but your quivering lip gives away your strong emotions. 

“I’ll stay.” 

Why would you stay? 

His arms feel heavy as he lifts them up and finally rests them on your warm body, pulling you so close to him you feel yourself suffocate. It doesn’t matter. Satoru hugs you so tightly that you hear your heart break. 

You don’t comment on the wet feeling on your shoulder, or the way his hands tremble as they grip the back of your shirt. You let him cling onto you as though you were the air he needed to breathe, the warmth he sought in the middle of the coldest nights. 

—

“Thank you.” 

“Hm?” You look to your side, a bit confused. The white haired man thinks you look very adorable when you’re clueless, trying to understand his words. 

“Thank you? What for?” Satoru isn’t one to get nervous, but your stare has him feeling a little hot. He hopes he isn’t blushing, it doesn’t suit his brand. 

“For saying yes.” This time, he is the one who squeezes your hand and you hold back a chuckle at how he avoids eye contact. You squeeze his hand back and lean your head against his shoulder.

“I would be crazy not to marry you.” 

“But you know… given my line of work, and Suguru—”

“Satoru,” you stop the man before he can carry on with his small ramble. You appreciate how vocal he is, it is one of the major changes to his personality ever since the two of you made it official. “I am a sorcerer as well. I understand.”

“You hate the missions I take.”

“I hate the way the higher ups view you, not the missions you take.”

Silence engulfs the two of you. 

You fidget with your hands, feeling as though you might’ve crossed a line your husband wasn’t ready to let you cross yet—

“And you?”

“Huh?”

“How do you view me?” He asks, voice low and small. He still doesn’t look at you, nor does he look anywhere really. Despite being 28 years old, Satoru feels the same way he felt at 6 years old. Vulnerable, worthless and in need of a reminder of what he brought to this world other than his powers–

“You’re handsome.” You break his chain of thoughts with a lot of ease, and he looks up at you with wide eyes. “A handsome, caring young man with a big,” a finger traces his heart over his shirt, “big heart. You have a child-like spirit, and a boy-ish smile that could make anyone fall for you very easily. I don’t want to focus too much on your looks, but they’re unfortunately a huge part of who you are,”

“You’re selfless.” You lean against the balcony railings, staring down at the city. “People take you for granted and either you don’t seem to notice, or you try not to.”

“And last, you’re too good for this world.” 

Your eyes sparkle as you describe every small detail about the man. You pour all of your emotions into your tiny monologue, so you fail to notice that Satoru had removed his hands off the railings. Until you feel something warm on your sides and something heavy on your shoulder. 

“Satoru?”

“I’m fine,” his broken voice would beg to differ, but you don’t push him. You rest your hands on top of his and let him pull you back against his chest in a warm, tight hug. 

He had always wanted to see himself through your eyes, filled with so much adoration and trust that it made his heart burst in his chest. He was riddled with confusion and something he couldn’t quite decipher anytime you had told him ‘of course it was you’ when he would do something nice, or ‘you’re not like that’ when you heard Nanami mumble something about Satoru’s playful behavior. 

You wish you could give him your eyes, take away some of that overwhelming feeling of being the wielder of the six eyes and allow him to rest—see himself as the selfless, kind-hearted man that he was to you. 

Since that was physically impossible, you’ll stick to loving him as though he held the universe between his palms.

You make loving him seem as easy as breathing, and the inner child living deep within him is forever grateful for that. 

2024 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[fastandcarlos]

Clingy : ̗̀➛ Max Verstappen

summary: how does it feel to have the clingiest partner in the world? well, max verstappen can tell you

A hum of surprise came from Max as he felt your weight land in his lap, eyes flickering down as he watched you carefully. Your head settled against his shoulder, feeling Max’s arms wrap around your body, with his hands still holding on tightly to his controller. 

A murmur of comfort immediately came from you making Max chuckle, pressing a kiss against the top of your head. Since he returned home Max had been busy gaming in his room, and soon enough you found yourself bored of having to spend your evening alone in your living room. 

Whilst you didn’t mind Max relaxing and playing a game to try and calm down after his days, you did mind a little that he was doing it in a different room to you. After waiting to see if he’d appear for a while, you decided in the end you needed to take matters into your own hands.  

“Don’t stop just for me,” you whispered across to him. 

Max continued to play on his game, waiting until his character was killed before placing the controller down, his hands landing on your back. Max wasn’t blind to the fact that your hold was tighter on him than usual, making sure that you were as close to him as possible. 

“It’s unlike you to come and disturb me like this,” Max chuckled, moving his hands up to brush through your hair. “Something happened?” He then questioned, only for your head to shake back across at him. 

Your head tilted back as your eyes landed on Max’s, “I’ve just been missing you a bit and thought I could come and keep you company whilst you played some games. You’re not streaming tonight, are you?” 

“I think it’s a bit late to ask that question,” he laughed, “but no, no one can see your clinginess.” 

You shot a glare up at him as Max shifted in his seat, allowing himself to have a better hold of you. Max’s smile turned up as he noticed how your eyes narrowed, poking his finger against the tip of your nose, encouraging you to lay back down and rest on him again. 

“It’s not my fault that you’re such a good person to cuddle,” you told Max, jabbing your hand against his chest. “If you were less irresistible than there would be less of a chance of me clinging to you right now. You already spend enough time away from me as it is anyway.” 

“I can’t help the fact that I’m just so undeniably attractive,” Max smugly responded, knowing that your eyes were rolling without even having to look down at you. “And if you asked me, I’d spend every second of every day with you without anything getting in the way.” 

Your smile turned up as Max spoke, a rare moment of honesty from him, allowing his heart to open up to you that he so often kept guarded and all to himself.  

“I like making the most of the time that I have at home with you,” you then whispered, finding your own self opening up once again. “The time is so rare most of the time, I don’t think I actually want to share you with Formula 1 anymore, I might put a ban on it.” 

“I don’t know what’s happened to you, but I’ve never known you to be as clingy as this,” Max joked, “usually you tell me that I smell and to get away from you.” 

“I’ve changed my mind,” you laughed, “I guess you’re actually alright.” 

“Alright?” Max gasped, shaking his head. “I guess if I’m only alright I’ll drop you so that I can go back to my game and you can go and entertain yourself.” 

Max teasingly went to let go of your frame, only for you to tighten yours around him, refusing to be let go by Max. He roared with laughter as a gasp came from you, catching you just in time as you began to drop, not quite sure if you were going to land with a thud or not.  

Once you were secure in his lap, Max leaned down and pressed several kisses against your face leaving you squirming and wriggling in his hold. You had no room to breathe as Max smothered you with love and affection, unable to wipe the smile off of his face. 

“You know, I can be just as needy as you sometimes,” Max whispered into your ear as he pulled away, “this is how I’d actually like to spend all of my days with you.” 

“I’d love to show this side of you to other people,” you responded, “the lovable version of Max.” 

“Nope, he’s only for you,” Max smiled, pulling you back into his chest. “No one can know that I’m actually as soppy for you as you are for me, it’s forbidden.” 

It was one of your favourite things about being with Max, how he was a completely different person with you then he was around others. No one else got to see the part of him that made you feel so incredibly loved, that was for you to enjoy and nobody else. 

“Shall we stay here forever?” 

“I wouldn’t mind,” you smiled, “that would be fun.” 

“Don’t tell anyone and see how long it takes them to find us,” Max laughed, tucking you even closer against his chest. “If we cuddle up close enough, maybe no one will even be able to find the two of us.” 

“I think you might get a bit fed up of me clinging to you,” you tried to argue, only for Max’s head to shake back at you, even if it might seem that way at times, he absolutely could never get sick and annoyed by you. 

“I love how needy you are,” Max suddenly told you, pressing a kiss to your cheek. “Do you know how nice it feels to know that I’ve got a partner who always wants to be around me? I’d be more upset if you didn’t want anything to do with me and didn’t care.” 

“I just can’t get enough of you Verstappen.” 

It scared you at times how head over heels you were for the man who held you, never imagining you’d fall so deep. But the way Max held you, spoke to you and looked after you had you finding yourself losing control so often, even after so many years together. 

“I don’t think I need to be on the console tonight anyway,” Max whispered, resting his head against your own. “I think I’d much rather just stay right here and give my needy girlfriend what she wants, all the cuddles in the world.” 

“Needy girlfriend?” You gasped, hitting against his chest again. “It must be hard work for you having a partner who can’t help but just be so utterly obsessed with you.” 

“Not going to lie, it makes me feel incredibly smug sometimes.” 

Your head shook as you heard the attitude in Max’s voice, thriving on all the attention that he got from you. “Please don’t tell me you brag to all the guys at work about how much I cling to you sometimes?” 

Max’s momentary silence spoke volumes. “Can you blame me? I love making them all jealous, it’s one of my favourite things to do.” 

“I think you might be as annoying as I am sometimes.” 

“It’s not my fault you make me so happy,” he defended. 

“And it’s not mine that you do the same for me too.” 

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

[ghoulphile]

run rabbit run | c.h/the ghoul

➥ pairing | cooper howard/the ghoul x f!reader ➥ word count | 869 ➥ warning(s) | 🔞 smut; rough, mildly dubious consent (kinda?), dom!coop, bareback, cum play, degradation kink, biting, pet names (bunny), man-handling, doggystyle, drabble, coop's gotta fuck you full so the ferals can't smell you ➥ summary | "the drabble thing HNNNGH think about coop calling you bunny from the start bc he clocked that you were always a down for it and you not getting it until he after you fuck for the first time" ➥ notes | do not look @ me rn 🫣 i feel like i've exposed myself too much lol masterlist | feel free to send in thots, questions, requests! | feedback is always appreciated ❤️

He found the rabbit among endless dunes of rock and rubble; a frightened, jumpy little beast that required a firm hand to tame, and an even steadier one to control.

And while it would’ve been easier to dump ‘em at Super Duper Mart -- get his caps worth, pounds of flesh for vials of chem -- he took a shine. Now, what exactly it is about you that captured his attention so thoroughly, he can’t be sure (though he could hazard a few guesses).

What he does know is this: if it wasn’t for him, you’d have been killed a million times over by raiders, fiends, and ferals alike. Always finding your way into trouble as soon as his back is turned.

Like now.

So if he’s a little rough with you, it’s only because he had to haul ass half-way across the flooded district when he heard you scream.

Nevermind the hard lurch of his heart, the sensation of his stomach droppin’ to his feet. You were supposed to be safe, holed up in the building he cleared yesterday.

Surprise, surprise; you decided to go poking where you shouldn’t, and now he’s gotta rescue your dumb ass. Skidded around a bombed out building only to find you fighting off a small pack of ferals, their rotted hands scratching at your arms and their teeth gnashing at your face.

Goddamn it.

Same shit, different day.

“What did I fuckin’ say?” he snarls, chapped lips pressed tight against your ear as sharp hip bones rut into the softness of your ass. “You’re dumber than shit sometimes.”

“I-I’m sorry! I didn’t - hhahh, slow down - didn’t mean to cause trouble.” Your hands scramble for purchase, nail beds aching from how hard you’re digging at the dirt.

Shoved onto the ground, pants sagging around your thighs as a stray rock digs into your cheek, scraping up the tender skin. “Won’t do it again, I promise.”

The Ghoul snorts, delivers a stinging nip to the tip of your ear. Your reedy whine soothes some of the agitation but he’s still bristling, aggression threaded through with tendrils of panic he refuses to acknowledge.

“I highly doubt that.”

You hiccup, knees spreading wide as your back dips - trying to get away, to get closer.

The fat head of his cock keeps hitting your cervix with every stroke, little fissions of pain kissed pleasure racketing up your spine as he stretches you past your limits and fucks you open.

Your gummy walls swollen and raw from the constant friction of his shaft, the rad burns scraping your insides up. Clit aching and so wet you’re dripping, a damp patch of earth beneath you.

“No, promise I’ll be good!” You pant, the scent of sunbaked soil and stagnant water heavy in your nose. “Please, please, please.”

Everything aches, limbs sore from your tussle and pride bruised as sweat dapples your brow, sticks the fine baby hairs to the back of your neck.

A hand clamps down on your hip so hard bones grind, yanking you back into every punishing thrust. Heavy balls smack against your clit on the in-stroke, stoking the embers of your desire. Your toes curl in your boots.

“I’ll believe it when I see it, bunny.” The Ghoul grabs your elbow with his free hand, tugging you up into his chest so his chin hooks over your shoulder, breath puffing along the side of your cheek. “You just don’ know when ta learn. So I’m gonna have’ta teach you. An’ I’ll do it as many times as it takes, you hear?”

You sniffle, nuzzling the back of your head against his face. “I mean it,” you say. “I’m sorry… I didn’t know there’d be any ferals around. Was just trying to find some more food.”

Groaning, his hips kick forward in a softer grind, still so deep you feel him in your stomach - pussy filled to the brim with cock - but not as harsh as before. As close as you’ll get to an apology until he’s done.

“This is your fault - you got ‘em all riled. Now, we gotta make you smell like me so take your punishment like a good bunny 'fore I decide ta eat you instead.”

And you do, letting him rut into you until he’s satisfied, aching and so swollen by the end of it that he has to bully his way in with every thrust, your pussy clamping down and milking him for all he’s worth.

When he finally does pump you full, you’re dumb and dripping. Limp limbed and sagging into the ground - only held up by the cage of his arms. Thighs shaking and clit pulsing in time with your heartbeat as he wrings every last bit of pleasure out of you.

“Sometimes,” he says, sitting back on his heels to watch as his cum oozes out of you in a sticky rush, dripping down your folds, “I think dumb bunnies like you are only good fer one thing.”

You whine when his thumb whispers over your clit, caressing your folds as he gathers up his spend. Gently fucks it back into you with shallow thrusts of his fingers. 

“But that’s all right, I like ‘em a lil dumb.”

[chososlilprincess]

last part of virgin!Choso<3 (im gonna write more for him tho, just in other scenarios!!) other parts here: part 1 part 2 part 4

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

Virgin Choso who stands on his small balcony, looking over the city, a grey cloud creeping out between his lips.

Choso had taken up smoking. He’d asked Leiri about it when he’d seen her doing it, and she’d told him it helped her to relax. he’d bought a pack right after that. The first couple of times he’d coughed the smoke out. But now he does it smoothly, inhaling and exhaling the smoke with no problem. It makes him feel at ease even just for a moment, and lord knows he needs it right now. Humans are fucking weird he thinks, they’d jepordize their health for a little break from their troubles. Guess that doesnt sound so ridiculous now that he thinks about it. Either way hes a human now too, or a half one atleast.

he squeezes the cigarette into an ashtray and looks at the time when he hears the door bell ringing. Its late and you’re here.

he hears you running up the stairs, and when you get to the top you run to him, giving him a soft hug. His heart keens.

“hi Choso!” you smile and let go of him, he immediately misses the feel of you, “hey,” he mumbles.

“why do you smell like cigerattes?” you huff and your nose crickles. cute.

he raises his shoulders.

“i cant believe it…who taught u to do that huh?” you make a disappointed face and fold your arms, tapping your foot on the floor. And he knows youre just joking, you and Yuji have been using enough sarcasm around him for him to have a pretty good understanding of it.

“Leiri,” he shrugs.

“of course…that hag,” you grin. And you look so fucking adorable, in your little outfit, and the way you look when you smile makes him weak. He has your bag ready on the couch, he had washed your panties before putting everything back into it. But he can’t think about that now, or he’ll turn bright red.

he sighs “i made dinner,” he says, ���if you’re hungry,” you stop infront of him and you almost look like youre gonna cry from happiness. “im starving,” you say quickly, “what did you make?”

He’d made rice bowls for you. your favourite. And you eat like a girl who’d gotten her first meal in months. Happily humming while eating your food.

Rather than focusing on eating his own bowl, he thinks about eating every meal of the day with you, sitting across from him.

when you’re done you put your plate in the sink and you yawn, you look adorable when you yawn, you look adorable when you do anything.

you turn around, “Choso?”

his heart skips a beat. he nods.

“it’s really late and um…dark outside and i don’t really want to walk home alone,” you look away, are you….blushing?

“is it okay if i stay here for the night?”

And hes heard the stories. About what happens to pretty girls when they’re alone at night and they don’t see the stranger walking behind them. And his fist clenches at the thought of someone being mean to you. He’s stronger than any human. he’d crush their fucking skull.

“you can stay,” he says quickly, a little too eagerly he realises. And you smile, “give me your plate,” you say, looking greatful that he let you stay, unknowing of the fact that he’d do just about anything if it meant your safety, or your happiness.

You start washing the dishes in his tiny kitchen, and when Choso tries insisting that he wants to help, you splash a bit of water on him. And you laugh so sweetly, when he jumps a little, trying not to get hit.

When youre done washing up, You both stand in silence for a while. For some reason its not as akward as it sounds.

“i will sleep on the couch,” he says,

“no Choso…id feel bad, you sleep in your bed,” you mumble.

You both argue like that for a while, and youre not letting up. stubborn little human.

you both get quiet for a moment.

“how big is your bed?”

“Queen size,”

“so why dont we just…sleep in it together?”

youre blushing slightly again. it must be his imagination.

And then he thinks about it. Friends sleep in the same bed sometimes right? you dont mean anything by it, he thinks, its just you being polite.

“i guess…we could do that yes,” he agrees.

you smile and nod, “okay,”

Choso excuses himself to go to the bathroom then, telling you to go ahead and get ready for bed.

He looks at himself in the mirror. He takes out his buns, his hair falling down to his shoulders. His eyes are dark and sunken. He looks dead he thinks. He looks down, “behave,” he says quietly, mostly to his heart, but also his dick.

he buries his head in his hands And He realizes he cant, he realizes the second he’s gonna look at you in his bed, he won’t be able to stop himself. to stop himself from confessing everything he feels, everything he’s done. that he thinks about you all the time, that you drive him insane, that he stole your pretty panties and came in his hand from the smell of your wet cunt.

When he rounds the corner of his bedroom, you’re sitting patiently on the edge of his bed, waiting for him.

“i am going to sleep on the couch, i don’t think this is a good idea,” he says it quickly, before he changes his mind, before its too late to go back.

you open your mouth to speak, hesitating a little.

“is it because of what yuji told me?”

his brain goes quiet. “what?”

“that you…that you like me?”

fuck. its over. he sighs angrily. that little fucki-

you stand and walk to him.

and when you put your hand on his chest, for a moment he forgets why hes mad, he forgets who he is and what year hes in. all he sees is you. And how close you are all of a sudden. and how youre leaning in, standing on your tippy toes, pressing your soft lips to his, in a short gentle kiss. His world stops for a moment.

And when he regains his senses, his instincts take over and he kisses you back ferociously, it’s sloppy and uncoordinated, but neither of you seem to care.

You walk backwards onto his bed, and you push him down so he’s sitting on the edge. He looks at you like a puppy dog, and his cheeks are flushed red.

When you sit down in his lap his dick twitches in his pants.

“i- i didnt think you…,” he stutters. he doesn’t really believe what’s happening.

“well i do,” you say, while cupping his face in your hands. “a lot,”

“can i…” he needs it he needs it he needs it, “can i eat your pussy?” he mumbles it quietly.

your eyes widen. fuck, he shouldn’t have said that, it was way too fast, you were just kissing.

“oh…uh okay,”

fuck. yes.

he lifts you up from his lap, and you skriek a little from surprise. He puts you down in a chair in the corner of his bedroom.

he gets on his knees infront of you and speaks quietly,

“i…im sorry i,” he sniffles a little, he’s so overwhelmed. And you’re letting him taste you.

you lean down and give him a kiss, biting your lip slightly.

“its okay…we can talk later, if you need it i’ll give it to you okay?”

And fuck he almost cries, and he buries his face in your lap. You shush him a little, caressing his hair. Hes hugging your legs.

He lifts his head, and you start unbuttoning your pants. Slowly sliding them down your hips as they fall to the floor. You spread your legs and he whimpers. Your panties are pink this time, and theres a big wet spot on them. And he doesn’t spare a second, he dives his head into your cunt, rubbing his face in it and licking at the wet spot desperately. you moan his name softly, and he cant help but grind his hard cock against the leg of the chair. Hes pathetic but he doesnt care, he wants you to feel good, he wants to make you cum on his face. He groans into your weeping pussy as he thinks about you cumming for him.

He pulls away a little, silently begging you to remove your panties. He wants to see your pussy so bad. His pussy.

You slide down your panties to reveal your soaked cunt. Choso almost growls. He looks up at you, asking for permission to keep going. you nod, your eyes half lidded. Spoiled little princess, he thinks, and thats exactly how hes going to treat you from now on.

he leans in again, kissing your pussy and it makes a wet sound. He licks his lips and groans deeply at your taste. He starts lapping at your cunt like a dehydrated puppy. He’s making out with your pussy now, swiping his tongue all over. You can tell he’s inexperienced, but it doesn’t matter, he’s doing such a good job.

you feel so good, his tongue is too much, its all too much. You love him so much. And you cum unexpectedly, crying out his name, begging him to keep going and he whines. You thrash around and Choso keeps you steady, his strong hands grasping your hips.

After youre done he keeps licking up your cum, making sure youre cleaned.

“Choso…stop, too much,” you say softly.

He pulls away.

His face is covered in your juices, dripping all the way down his neck. And he looks so happy. He stands up, like its on instinct. He needs to hold you.

He grabs you into his arms and plop down onto the bed, with you on his chest. He squeezes you into him, kissing your hair while you slide your panties on again.

“mine,” he says softly. youre his now.

You look up at him, searching his eyes, “Choso i wanna um…you know,” you gesture to his crotch. you want to make him feel good too.

but he looks away shyly. its embarrassing and pathetic, “i um..,” he sits up with you in his lap.

He doesnt feel hard under you anymore. And then it clicks.

“oh my god did you…”

he blushes furiously and nods, “its embarrassing,” he had cum in his pants the second he put his face in your bare pussy.

“no! no…it’s really…hot,” you reason and he looks less embarrassed. He looks into your eyes then, looks at your pretty little face and he already knows he wants you to be his forever.

“do you want to be my girlfriend?” he asks nervously.

you giggle and nod eagerly, jumping on him, wrapping your arms around him and nuzzling into his neck.

hes the luckiest man in the world he thinks. And you both fall asleep, you laying on his chest.

.⋅ ۵♡۵ ⋅.

guys they didn’t actually fuck and i’m SORRY

now….part 4?? hey!!! HEY OKAY IM SORRY!! comment if yall want more ill do a lil short one where buddy ACTUALLY looses his virginity.

taglist:

@iqzo @multy-fandom-lover

[teamred]

gtfih (get the fuck in here)

✩‌ wade wilson/deadpool x reader | fluff | 1.3k

SUMMARY | every morning, you see a man and his dog walk past your bakery and all he does is stick his head through the door, inhales deeply, make a comment, then walks out. what gives?

WARNINGS | flirty banter with sexual jokes, none really!

RATING | teen+

“Oh, that smells like unicorn farts wrapped in rainbows!” 

At the bakery's front counter, you glance up at the chiming bell above the door. Your first customer of the day... with a really strange comment.

A tall, mottled man stands before you in a grey hoodie holding an equally odd looking dog with a lolling tongue. Definitely not a sight you see every day. 

He takes a deep, exaggerated sniff of the air.

“Morning!” you greet with a smile. “Come on in and—”

And just like that, he bolts out the door and back onto the street. His dog licks his face—actually, his open mouth—as they disappear from view.

What the fuck?

The next morning, it happens again. 

“Mother of holy Mary and Marvel Jesus, that smells like a threesome between me, a donut, and fuck-me chocolate syrup!” 

The man, again in the same coloured hoodie, pauses dramatically, closing his eyes and taking another long whiff as he half-leans into the bakery.

“Would you like to try—?” 

But before you can finish, he’s gone again, leaving you standing there in disbelief.

The third morning is not much different. 

Same man, same dog, same routine. However, this time, he doesn’t even say a word—just inhales, sighs in contentment, then spins around and exits as quickly as he entered. 

It keeps on happening until the end of the week. By then, you've had enough. 

Leaning on the counter, arms crossed, you watch from the counter as he comes into view by your window. 

His dark maroon hoodie is drawn tight, and in tow as usual is his dog drooling slightly against his shoulder. You brace yourself, eyes narrowing.

The door swings open.

“Wow—” 

“You, Mr. Dog Man!” You cut him off and point at him sternly. 

He raises an eyebrow, pointing a finger to himself as if saying, “Me?” 

“Yes, you,” you confirm, then you jab your finger towards your glass counter. “Kindly get the fuck in here.”

He chuckles, amused. “Did you just tell me to ‘get the fuck in here’?”

“Kindly,” you say, tilting your head with exaggerated politeness, “but yes.”

The man shrugs, complying with a casual stroll to the counter. 

“Alright, I'm in. What’s the dealio?” he asks, leaning on the counter with a smile. 

“What’s your name, sir?” 

“It’s Wade,” the stranger supplies, his smile widening. “Wade Wilson. Is yours ‘The Bitchy Baker Who Didn’t Have a Good Dicking This Morning’?” His words drip with sarcasm, but there’s a playful twinkle in his eyes. 

“Ha-ha. So funny,” you reply dryly. “You know, you can't just keep sticking your head in my bakery, make a comment, and then leave.”

“Why not? It's a free country,” he says, feigning innocence. 

You roll your eyes. “If you like the smell of my baked goods that much, why don’t you actually buy one? I can assure you that they taste better than they smell.” 

Wade smirks. “That’s what many of my ex-girlfriends said, but I could never trust them.” 

You ruffle your eyebrows at his offhand comment, but he moves on quickly. “Look, I never carry my wallet on my morning walks. Mary Puppins here would guilt-trip me into buying way more stuff than I need.” 

Your gaze drops to his dog, who’s happily panting in his arms and looking up with big eyes. “Her name is Mary Puppins?”

“Yup. Her previous owner—may he rest his soul—named her. Her new baby daddy—that’s me—just kept the tradition going.”  

“And she guilt-trips you into buying stuff?” you ask slowly in equal parts disbelief and intrigue. 

“Look at this face!” Wade exclaims, holding his dog out closer to you. “Wouldn't you buy her anything she wanted?” 

For a few beats, you inspect the dog and its outfit. A little red and black costume that looks awfully similar to something you’ve seen before, but you couldn’t put your finger on it. But yes, her owner was right; she did have something oddly endearing about her. 

“Is it okay if I pet her?” 

“Oh yeah,” Wade nods enthusiastically, “go right ahead.”  

Based on her lack of facial expressions, Mary Puppins seems indifferent to your pats and scritches, but her tail is wagging, so she must be enjoying it slightly. Wade watches you in approval.  

You retract your hands, wash them quickly, then grab a tray of goods out from one of the shelves in the counter. 

“Well, since you don't have your wallet, have one of these on the house,” you say, placing the tray in front of him. 

Wade gasps theatrically, eyes twinkling in delight at all the choices he can possibly have. He takes his time, hovering his free hand over the array of pastries, until he finally decides on a chocolate croissant. 

One bite, and his reaction is nothing short of dramatic, but that seems to be this guy’s style.

His eyes flutter to a close, and he lets out a moan that echoes in the quiet bakery. You smile proudly and mentally pat yourself on the back. 

“Oh my God, they always talk about having a foodgasm, but my mouth is literally coming with each bite. Oh my fucking God!”

You laugh, shaking your head. “Okay, bring your wallet tomorrow and you can have plenty more foodgasms.” 

“What—my handsome features don't get me free baked goods?” Wade leans the rest of his croissant towards Mary Puppins, who’s trying her best to nibble at it, but is mostly just licking it.

“You're cute, but you’re not that cute," you tease. Looking beyond his skin condition, he was a teensy bit handsome, you had to admit.

“I used to wear a wig. I’ll put it on again if it means I get free shit. Would that help?”

It’s hard not to smile in front of him. “No, I don't think so.” 

“People say I look like Ryan Reynold’s hotter cousin when I’ve got a full load of hair on me.”  

You huff and shake your head in disagreement. 

“How about a date?” Wade asks with a wink. “There’s financial compensation in that—that’s gotta count for something.” 

A date would count for something, but you didn't want him to be out of the waters yet.

“Come back tomorrow with your wallet and a date could maybe be in your future,” you reply flirtatiously. 

Wade nods with a grin and begins to walk backwards towards the door. 

“If I’m late though, it’s ‘cause I’m too busy jerking it while fantasizing about having those beauties in my mouth again.” 

You sputter a laugh. Feeling brave, you decide to channel his humor and reflect it back at him. “Wow, maybe you’ll be only one minute late, if you can even last that long.” 

He gasps in mock horror and jogs back to the counter again to take another baked good. 

“This is compensation for that comment…” he says with squinted eyes, stuffing the pastry into his mouth. 

“Don’t come too hard tonight, handsome,” you say with a wink. 

“I’m legitimately so hard right now,” he says with a full mouth, pointing the half pastry braid towards his crotch. “As the kids say these days, you match my freak, lady. Say bye-bye, Mary Puppins!” 

Wade awkwardly adjusts himself to make his dog give a little paw wave, while she simply wags her tail. You laugh and shake your head, amused by his antics. 

As he finally exits, you hear him call out, “And if anyone asks, I’m just here for the sweet, sweet baked goods. Totally not because of the hot baker!” 

You bite your lip, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth, as you watch him and his dog disappear down the street. As you return to work, you replay your interactions with Wade over and over, and realize he’s just as endearing as his quirky dog. 

You’re buzzing in anticipation to see Wade and Mary Puppins again tomorrow morning. 

[katsukistofu]

hug me, not it!

contents ౨ৎ ⋆ s. todoroki x gn reader ⭑ your boyfriend has hidden beef with your plushies.

shoto beadily eyes the intruding beasts behind you with distaste subtly written over his pretty features.

the “intruding beasts” being your plushies neatly lined up against the wall of your dorm.

did he buy most of them for you with his father’s credit card whenever the two of you went on dates? yes.

does that mean he was any happier to see them in his presence? no.

they already get the privilege to sleep with you every night. how dare they gatecrash on the both of your precious private time like this? uninvited too?

it’s silly, he knows, but he always gets the tiniest bit jealous when he comes to your room for study sessions or sleepovers, even movie nights.

only to see you cuddling with that damn rilakkuma bear plush he gave you last year to celebrate your anniversary in your lap. for the millionth time. in his spot.

shoto can’t help but feel a little replaced.

he throws one last glance over your shoulder at the offending sacks of fluff, before his soft strawberries and créme hair brushes your chin as he nuzzles deeper into the crook of your neck.

“sho!” you giggle. “that tickles.”

you feel a faint smile against your collarbone. just the slightest bit mischievous enough for you to be able to tell, as he lets out that quiet, melodic laugh of his. “sorry.”

he’s not really, though. shoto peeks back over at your plushies, the barest hint of smugness visible on his lips.

mine. shoto thinks while looking at them, arms circling your waist.

unaware of the one-sided competition for your affections behind you, you’re deadset on a mission for revenge.

gently, you brush the tips of your fingers along his neck.

shoto’s ridiculously handsome as he leans into your touch with a curious tilt of his head.

“what are you doing?”

his bangs fall into his eyes as he questions you, and you feel your heart skip a beat, wondering how he’s even real.

“trying to tickle you back!” you desperately attempt to do so again under his arms and on his thigh.

other than a blink from him, still no reaction.

“love.”

you don’t seem to hear him.

“shoto, lie on your tummy.”

he complies easily, always one to humor your bouts of inquisitiveness. whenever you were focused on something, you tended to tune everything else out.

shoto stretches out on your bed with his tall frame not unlike a cat. but his head is still turned back to you, staring at you to try and to get your attention.

“love.” you’re trying to tickle the back of his knee now, to no avail.

finally, you raise your head to look at him. “yeah?”

“i’m not ticklish.” shoto deadpans.

“what, really?” you whine, stopping your attack on his leg. “not even as a baby?”

“no.” amusement dances in his gemstone eyes as he studies you. “touya always got mad when he tried to, because it never worked.”

you stifle a giggle behind your hand. “what did you do to make him tickle you in the first place?”

“exist,” your boyfriend says so simply that you have to let out a laugh.

you reach out to cup the side of his cheek, and there’s a soft intake of breath from him as his lashes flutter shut.

shoto wonders how your gentle touch always makes him feel warm all over, when he’s certain he’s not even using his quirk.

it’s strange. in good way.

“why do you like cuddling those plushies so much?” he murmurs, eyes still closed.

a flustered expression that he can’t see spreads across your face.

“um, i guess it’s ’cause they smell like you and at night it helps me sleep?”

“oh.” his eyes blink open in surprise at that, warmth starting to grow on his cheeks.

shoto takes in the sheepish grin you’re wearing, and reaches out to cup your burning cheek similarly like how you did with his moments before.

you shiver into his sweet and soft touch, and the side of his lips quirk up.

“you can cuddle them. but when i’m here, the only one that should be in your arms is me.”

[selfcarecap]

Lip Gloss [A.D.]

Art Donaldson x reader (x Patrick Zweig)

summary: Art loves when you kiss him while wearing lip gloss and it gets all over his own lips. What he loves even more is when you get on your knees for him and he ends up with lip gloss stains all over another certain body part of his.

warnings: smut 18+ (oral m receiving, fingering f receiving, handjob, reader and Art have sex next to Patrick who is asleep but they have permission, submissive-ish!Art, a bit of voyeurism from Patrick – he doesn’t ask but for the sake of this fic we’re assuming consent bc it’s fictional, m masturbation, spitting, cum eating, pet names: good boy, baby, reader says Art is ‘wet like a girl’), feminine Art (so dare I say canon Art🙂‍↕️) or at least he likes lip gloss lol, Art and Patrick are college roommates – attraction heavily implied between all three of them but only Art and reader are in a relationship, this was supposed to just be a drabble lol there’s no plot just porn, also i’m kinda intimidated by the challengers fandom lol idk but anyway here's my first challengers fic sddslkh <3

word count: 3.4k | gorgeous divider by @dollywons

When you first start dating Art, you always apologise for wearing lipgloss when you’re kissing him. You always wipe it off his lips after a kiss, pulling your sleeves over your hands to get it off his mouth. You’ve heard that guys don’t like it, but you like wearing lipgloss and Art has never complained. 

When you get more comfortable around him, you don’t always wipe the gloss off his lips, letting him do it himself. But he only does it because he feels like it’s what he’s supposed to do. Guys aren’t supposed to like the feeling of lip gloss. He’s probably supposed to tell you it’s annoying and ask you to stop wearing lip gloss, at least when you’re with him. 

But he doesn’t want to control you, and he doesn’t want you to stop wearing lip gloss. He just wants you to stop apologising for it.

“You don’t have to say sorry,” he tells you every time with a smile, but you still do it. 

“I know it’s sticky. I won’t put any more on tonight, don’t worry.” Art stops himself from pouting at your words. 

And yes, Art once applied the lip gloss that you left on his nightstand. He was missing you and the lip gloss was the closest thing to you that he had. He ran into the bathroom when Patrick came home, wiping it off furiously before his best friend could see. 

He likes keeping a shirt of yours at his place so that he can smell you even when you’re not there, but what he likes even more is to apply your lip gloss. It’s just a thin layer, but it makes him feel like he’s been freshly kissed by you. There’s nothing wrong with that, and there’s definitely no reason he does it other than to feel closer to you. 

-

You’re getting ready for the birthday of a friend one night. You’ll be going to a bar for a bit, nothing big. But you’re doing your make-up on Art’s bed with him sitting behind you, hands on your hips. 

“You look so pretty.” 

He says those words for every step of your routine. He wants you to know how beautiful you are no matter how much or how little make-up you’re wearing, even if it’s cheesy. Art grins when you show him the finished look, and his eyes stay stuck on your glossy lips, tinted a dark pink, almost red colour. 

He knows you can’t resist it when he looks at you like that, he never can when it’s the other way around either, so you press a kiss to his lips. Art knows that you’ll be wiping the sticky gloss off as soon as the kiss is over, so he deepens it to keep the feeling of lip gloss on him, even though Patrick is sitting in the bed right next to you. 

Knowing him, he’s probably staring and enjoying it; Art wouldn’t be surprised if he heard the sound of Patrick’s phone camera going off. 

You smile against Art as you part your lips for him, trying but not quite managing to bring yourself to stop kissing him yet. You have to physically take Art’s chin between your fingers and push his face away from you to stop. And yet, you give in again immediately, peppering his face in kisses before you pull away for good. 

You give Patrick an apologetic smile, even though you both know he doesn’t mind you and Art making out next to him. By the time you look back at Art, he’s already wiping at the lip gloss stains all over his face. Your cheeks heat up when you realise how many marks you’ve made on him. You forgot you put on a darker and more pigmented lip gloss than normal. 

“Wait,” you giggle, pulling away Art’s hand that’s already trying to wipe the sticky gloss away, “I’ll bring you a wipe.” 

“Doesn’t he look pretty like that?” Patrick comments before you have a chance to get up. Art throws a pillow at him. 

You look between them, at Art’s face littered with shiny, sticky stains. His lips are especially dark and shiny, as if you just put some lip gloss right on there, albeit a bit messily. 

“Of course he’s pretty like this,” you say, not looking away from Art.

 “Then just leave him like that, he likes it.”

“I don’t,” Art defends much too fast, and Patrick laughs. Art reaches for his pillow to throw at Patrick but remembers he already did. He’s about to stand up to go to the bathroom and get a stupid wipe himself, but you grip his t-shirt and he sits back down. 

“It’s okay if you like it, baby. It’s hot that you do,” you try to whisper the last part, and pull him in by his t-shirt to kiss him again, “Let me clean you up, and I’ll put some lip gloss on you properly.” 

“Only cause you think it’s hot,” Art calls after you weakly. 

Patrick laughs again. 

“Shut up.”

Art shyly tries to catch a glimpse of his face in the mirror. 

You sit back down in front of him, gently cleaning his face. You hold out the lip gloss afterwards, placing a hand on his face to apply it, the wet pop sounding when you undo the lid. 

“Wait,” Art leans back abruptly, as if you’re about to hurt him, “I want it from your lips.” 

You huff, smiling at him. You apply some more lipgloss to your own lips, taking your boyfriend’s face to give him a kiss to his pursed lips. You apply more and kiss him again. You both smile at the oddly innocent kiss – pursed lips against pursed lips. 

You wipe away the excess over Art’s cupid’s bow, grinning at his shiny, sticky lips. 

“You look so pretty, baby,” you tell your boyfriend, and he blushes. 

“Show me,” Patrick says, leaning forward to see Art from the front. Art turns his head away from his best friend, red up to the tips of his ears now. 

“Show him, baby,” you coax, reaching out for his chin to turn his head. You know Patrick likes to make jokes, but not when his best friend is like this – eyes like those of a puppy, genuinely embarrassed. 

It doesn’t have to mean anything, but Art has made it such a big deal in his head that he can’t like having your lipgloss on his lips that Patrick knows he needs encouragement right now. Patrick moves to sit at the edge of the bed to look at Art better. “Look at you, Artie, all pretty. Looks almost as good as on your girlfriend.” 

You roll your eyes – you should’ve known he can’t be fully serious. 

“You have to leave now, you’re already late,” Art reminds you, and you let him press another kiss to your lips. You’ll have to clean up the mess he’s made on your mouth on the way, but you don’t mind. You watch him enjoy the feeling of the sticky gloss on his lips a few more seconds before he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. 

You and Patrick share a look, rolling your eyes, and you blow a kiss to Art before you close the door.

 - 

You come back home early, before midnight. The birthday girl left to go see her boyfriend halfway through her own birthday party, so you’re back at Art and Patrick’s dorm. You’d be annoyed at your friend if you didn’t have your own boyfriend to go visit.

Patrick is already lightly snoring when Art opens the door for you – he’s in nothing but boxers – and you know what that means.  

Patrick has given you two permission to do whatever you want while he’s asleep, as long as you’re quiet. You’ve always wondered if it’s a tactic to secretly listen in on you and Art having sex, knowing that you would’ve otherwise never done it with him in the room. 

Art has a small light on next to his bed, and you join him on his mattress. A few leftover glitter particles sparkle on his lips, and you pull his face closer to yours. 

“Suits you so well, Artie. So pretty.” You swipe your finger over his bottom lip. He kisses it, stopping himself from smiling. He’s already looking at your lips, and you mentally pat yourself on the back for remembering to reapply your gloss just before you got here. 

You kiss him then, and Art licks into your mouth as if he’s been starved and waiting to eat you up since you left. You adjust your position to sit on top of him, and your knee grazes his lap. He’s already fully hard.

“Sorry.. couldn’ help myself. Pat fell asleep and I couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

“It’s okay, baby,” you grin, holding his jaw, “You want me to make it better? Want me to go down on you?”

Art nods distractedly, mumbling out, “please, baby. Need you”. Your thumb brushes the gloss on his lip, and Art opens his mouth. You pull your hand away before he can wrap his lips around your thumb, and you kiss him as a whine escapes his mouth, muffling his voice.

You press your lips against his until they’re coated in your shiny gloss, and then you slide a finger into his mouth. He sucks on it – pink, sparkly lips around your finger.

“You look so pretty. Should wear my lipgloss more often,” you tell him, and he turns his head away in fake-annoyance, your finger slipping out. You feel his hard cock against your leg again as he moves, and you pull at his chin to open his mouth.

Art moans as you messily push three of your fingers into his mouth to get them wet against his tongue. You pull them out and slide them down into the waistband of his boxers, and down the length of his cock.

You put your hand over his mouth before he has a chance to moan, and you nod towards Patrick. He’s asleep, his back to you, but it’s not going to take long for Art to wake him if he keeps being this loud.

You get up, and Art pulls his legs to the side of the bed as you sit down between them. He’s straining against his boxers, a tall tent pulling the fabric taut. You release Art’s cock, and it slaps against his abs. He’s glistening down his length from where you spread his spit on him, a small puddle of precum already at the tip. 

You giggle quietly, “So wet, baby. You’re wet like a girl.”

“Shut up,” he whispers back weakly, biting his lip to stop a smile from spreading over his face.

You kiss the wet tip, licking the precum, and begin to leave lip gloss stains all down his length.

“Feels so good, baby. You’re so good at this,” Art says not nearly quietly enough.

“Shh, baby. Don’t wanna wake Patrick up.”

Your boyfriend nods, but you don’t think he’s listening.

You take his dick into your mouth properly now, wet heat enveloping him as you take him deeper, and you look up to see how he bites his lip and lets nothing but a breath slip past his lips as he watches you.

“Good boy,” you whisper to him. He intertwines his fingers with yours by the side of his hip, and you look up to smile at him. You ignore how, when you look past Art for a split second, you can see Patrick clearly jerking his cock under the blanket, the movement of his arm making it obvious. 

You shake your head slightly, resisting the urge to roll your eyes at Art’s best friend, and you take your boyfriend deeper down your throat as your spit drips to his balls. Art looks down at you with such restraint on his face, it almost looks like he’s about to cry.

He manages not to make a sound when you suck his dick more eagerly, your lip gloss smeared over his cock as you jerk off what you can’t take past your lips. The only sound in the room is the wetness of your mouth and your spit around your boyfriend’s cock.

Art lets out a shaky breath as his abs contract, his hand squeezing yours, and you softly nod up at him, taking his cock as deep as you can. He whimpers pathetically when he spills his load down your throat, and you swallow it all as he keeps cumming and cumming in your mouth.

When you pull away, out of breath and with your lips wet, you take in the picture you created. Art’s cock is full of your lip gloss, his face shiny with a thin layer of sweat, his cheeks as red as the gloss you left on his lips earlier. You’re about to stand up and get a wipe to clean Art up, but he pulls his boxers back on.

He likes the glossy stains on his cock even more than the ones you leave on his lips. 

He pulls you up on the bed, lying you on your back. “Please can I go down on you?” he whispers, mouthing at your neck and down your chest, pulling your top down as much as the tight fabric allows, whining when he doesn’t get all the way down to your nipples.

As much as you want Art to eat your pussy, you won’t let him. He always gets messy and loud, moaning almost uncontrollably as he makes out with your wet pussy, and there is no way Patrick could pretend to sleep through that. 

If you thought Art was going to cry earlier from how good he felt, he reaches a new level of teariness now when you tell him no, eyes almost glassy.

“Tomorrow, okay? You can still use your fingers now.” Art looks at least somewhat assuaged at your offer, and lies down on his side next to you, unknowingly shielding you from Patrick. You don’t know if he came along with Art, or if he’s still jerking off, and that makes it even more exciting. 

You know Art would never cheat on you, but if you gave him permission to, and if he admitted his attraction, you’re sure he’d jump at the first opportunity to invite Patrick into bed with you two. You know Patrick feels the same. You like the thought of him listening in, making himself cum to the sound of his best friend and his girlfriend having sex.

“Here,” Art urges, holding a hand to your mouth, even though he knows you’ll be more than wet enough from giving him head. You spit into his open palm, and Art spits in too, the way he always does, liking the feeling of your combined warm wetness against his skin. 

Art reaches down your body and into your underwear, adding to the wetness. He rubs your clit in messy circles, kissing you even messier. You spread your legs for him more, but Art lets out a frustrated huff.

“Can I… want you naked,” he mumbles against your skin. Art watches with puppy eyes as you get up, taking off your tight top and grabbing your favourite oversized shirt of his instead, sliding off your trousers and panties only once you’ve put the shirt on.

“This is all you get.”

Art looks happy enough as you get back into bed with him, sliding a hand up your shirt now that he can comfortably get under the hem, and cups one of your tits.

“Can’t believe you’re mine,” Art says against your lips, hand moving back between your legs to play with your pussy, “So pretty.”

He circles your clit for a few moments before he pushes a finger inside while making out with you, remnants of his own cum still in your mouth, spit and gloss between you two as he continues to rub your clit.

“You’re the prettiest woman in the world,” he says, voice almost strained, and you realise he’s hard again, humping the mattress as well as he can while lying on his side, “Wish I was inside your pussy right now.”

You have to resist giving in to him – he’ll be insatiable the rest of the night if you let him fuck you even just for a few seconds – but you reach down to pull his cock free from his boxers, wrapping your hand around him.

“Can you focus if I’m doing this?” you ask pointedly, and Art nods eagerly.

“I’ll be good, I’ll be a good boy. I’ll make you cum,” he promises, slurring his words as your thumb swipes over the tip. But he’s not lying, he’s still fucking your pussy with his fingers. You’ve trained him well, so he knows what to do.

You can’t deny that you’re both getting loud now, if it’s not the moans you don’t quite manage to swallow down, then it’s the sound of your wet pussy and your slicked hand around Art’s cock.

You cum almost at the same time, Art rubbing your clit at just the right, albeit messy, intensity, and your thighs squeeze around his forearm when the orgasm flows through you, your own hand not stopping around Art’s cock. He’s breathing hard, reaching for the tissues on his headboard, but the tissue box topples over and falls against his shoulder and to the floor as he tries and fails to rip out a tissue.

“Here, I got you, baby,” you angle his cock to his abs, so that he won’t be spilling all over his own sheets, and you only have to jerk Art’s dick for a few more seconds before he’s shooting ropes of cum over his own skin. His abs glisten as his breath stutters, and he has to wrap his hand around yours to stop when he gets too sensitive.

“I love you so much,” Art huffs with a smile, and you kiss him briefly.

“I love you too.” You gather his cum off his abs, wiping it over your palm and holding it over his mouth. It drips and falls between Art’s parted lips. Art hums when you slip your fingers into his mouth, and he sucks the last drops of his load off them.

“Such a good boy,” you rub your thumb over his cheek, gazing at him in awe.

“I love you so much,” he tells you again, a soft smile on his face.

When you’re done and you look over, Patrick is back to quietly snoring, a freshly crumpled tissue by the side of his bed. You kiss Art before you can begin to smirk, and you briefly consider telling him. You decide it’s a conversation for another day. Art would definitely get hard again if he knew that Patrick was jerking off to you two doing it, and he’s already squeezed out two orgasms just now. You don’t need him that overstimulated tonight.

You remove your makeup and get one of the fresh pairs of panties Art bought for you to keep at his place. You walk back into the bedroom and find Art on his back, smiling at you all fucked out. 

You lie down with him, letting him cup one of your tits for comfort so that he can sleep better. You kiss his cheek and see that his lips are still shiny with glittery gloss. You decide not to offer to clean him up, now that you know he likes it like that. 

P.S. Thank you for reading <3 Reblog and comment for Art to come and kiss the gloss off your lips 🤭

[wannabeanotter]

FUCK STICK (BOTTOM TO TOP; FUCKBOY/JOCK TF)

Fucking tops. It's Friday, nearly midnight and instead of dancing I'm stuck in the washroom at a gay club, hiding from some shithead.

"Tops, right?"

Next to me is a tall guy in a flannel shirt. He's pretty hot, but, urgh, he's the last thing I want to be thinking of right now.

"Yeah," I try to sound chatty, but it's clear I'm pretty annoyed "How did you know?"

He turns to me and crosses his arms, grinning, "Oh, you know. What happened? I bet you have loads of guys chasing after you"

It's true. I mean, look at this ass

"Urgh. This guy grabbed me from behind and started grinding against me. Can you believe it?? He didn't even ask, all I did was wink at him."

"Hmphh, you winked at him? Sounds like he was giving you what you wanted. You know, all you bottoms are the same. Needy. Demanding. Seeing real men as just dumb grunting animals. Maybe that guy was trying to do you a favour?"

I groan and turn around to leave "Oh, fuck you." Just what I need, another smug shithead.

He heckles me from behind. "God, twinks like you are so fucking lame. Maybe we're fed up of being nagged all the time?". He sounds kinda angry, but I ignore him, and roll my eyes.

"You know what, grab your dick."

I freeze, and my eyes go wide with shock. Why am I so shaken? That's not the worst thing I've heard at a club. I try to move but I can't, I just sputter, "Wh- what?? I'm not doing that"

He grins, "I'm not asking"

I feel something pull against my pants, but I look down and see it's my own arm

"WHAT THE FUCK! Are you... you're doing this?" My arm creeps down, playfully running my fingers over my tight stomach, and slips down through my waist band.

"Haha, yeah I am bro. So, bottom bottom bottom. What to do with you. What if I open your eyes a little?"

I, I start to shake. Something in me feels good. Beefy guys start to flash through my mind, and whatever's taken over my hand knows what it's doing down there. Athletes, wrestlers, big bulges in tight clothes...

"Here's the thing. There's enough brats like you around here bro. Someone's gotta do something. Think of it like, uh, giving back to the community."

The images in my mind start to change. The models get smaller, swapping out athletes for tight twinks in tighter shorts. Instead of biceps, I'm thinking of big, curvy asses, and my hand... I can't control myself. I wanna grab someone, anyone, and start grinding.

But then, one of my crushes slides by - Jason, a HUGE wrestler on my college team. Biggest pecs I have seen in my life. Thank fuck, finally, a real man. He looks at me with his big, brown eyes and oh my god, my heart flutters. I look up at him and in my mind I start to walk towards him

The guy in the flannels shirt is egging me on, "Go on, do it." How does he know what I'm thinking? Whatever.

I reach out, and Jason smiles. That big, goofy, handsome grin... and then he turns around. He gets down on the mats, on his hands and knees, raising his big, firm ass into the air. I'm looking right at it.

I squirm. "Oh god. No. No no no no no"

"Uh, actually, yes." The guy in the washroom grins. "I want you to be a dumb, grunting animal, you will do that for me. Are you starting to understand?"

I lean down over the sink, but in my fantasy I fall against Jason. I hold him tight, pinning his big sweaty form down against the mats. At first, there's barely anything I can do to control him - he's WAY bigger than me, but soon I start to feel... bolder. Firmer. He tries to roll me over, but I slip my arm around his shoulder and a vein pops up over my bicep. My legs strain and my glutes start to stretch. Fuck, my whole body is throbbing.

I grunt, and slam him downwards, which gives moment to catch my breathe. Does he feel less sweaty? I wipe my forehead. Wait, am I more sweaty?

"Yeah bro. I know what you're thinking, I know how much you love guys after they've worked out. Damp clothes, that manly smell... it's exactly what every bottom wants these days. Now it's yours"

We twist around each other, and I reach my arms across his body. Wait, all the way around? His shoulders have gotten smaller, thinner... twinkier. And, well, mine are the opposite. He lunges, but I grapple him. All the mass has gone from his legs, meanwhile, my biceps are big enough to crack a skull.

"I want to make you a real fuckboy, you know? Someone who just thinks with his dick. Gym, sex, gym, sex, gym, sex... I want you to always be turned on, I want it to control you, I want you to never get a break."

I've got him, firm between my legs. Jason's tiny now, the same size I was 2 minutes ago, and I start to grind my bulge against his soft, bubbly ass. Fuck. Fuck! It's so good. This is the best fantasy I've ever had in my life. I want to fuck him so bad.

My whole body is throbbing, shaking. Blood is pulsing through my, through my everything. Fuuuuuck. I feel almost dizzy. Everything about this almost feels real. I go to lift up my shirt, but it's gone, and I run my other hand over my stomach. It's like I can really feel the abs

I cum. Oh my god, did I just cum in a... a washroom at a night club? And, I was thinking about topping a guy??

"Ahem". I turn to stare at the guy next to me. He looks pleased with himself. Very pleased.

"There bro! How do you look?"

I look in the mirror, and it hits me like a fucking brick. My body... my clothes. Oh my god, everything's gone. THAT WAS REAL? I look like some stupid fuckboy. Am I a stupid fuckboy? Is that a JOCKSTRAP? My jeans are gone, now just a pair of shorts. Very short shorts. Is that it? Is that all I'm wearing? Over the top of my huge pecs I see my converses are gone too, swapped out for some worn down gym shoes.

This can't be real. If it is, my boyfriend is 100% going to break up with me. How do I even explain this? That I'm like, ripped now? No, wait... that's not it. I try to imagine him topping me but, but, fuck, it feels so gross. A total turnoff

"Of course you don't want to let him top you. You're not a bottom anymore... that's kind of the whole point."

But he would never let me top him. But maybe we don't need to have sex for a while. That wouldn't be so bad, would it...

"AHAHAHA, sorry, with your new sex drive? What part of a fucking animal don't you understand"

There's no way he would want to stay with a horny fuckboy, but, but...

what if I am a stupid fuckboy? I'm already thinking of a nice, tight twink. I'm not that interested in him anyway - he's too tall, too beefy. All the guys I saw earlier are racing through my head. The skinny guy I danced with with the great ass, that cute short one by the bar... urgh, he had those perfect legs, that cute crop top, tight stomach... I bite my lower lip and reach down...

"NO!!"

I start hyperventilating. "This isn't me. I'm not a jock, I am ABSOLUTELY not a top. And," I lift up my arm, "there's no way I actually smell like this"

He laughs, like he's having the fucking time of his life. Maybe he is. "HAHA, sorry dude, yeah you do. And, yeah, you are. Think of that fuck stick like a gift, not just to you, but also to every cute boy you see on grindr. You'll get used to it, trust me"

His words flood my head... I imagine scrolling through the app in bed later, looking at the sea of boys all desperate for me... I reach down again...

"NO! Fuck! Make it stop. Why are you doing this to me?!!"

He pauses for a moment, then sighs and shakes his head. His expression... he's looking at me like he thinks I'm stupid. Does he think I'm stupid? No way - this motherfucker!

"Really? I know I fried a few wires up there dude, but you cannot seriously be asking that. Why do you think I'm doing it?"

"I - I..." I can't find any words. I really don't know. I just don't fucking get it. He's ruining my body, my LIFE, and for what? Fun? Revenge?

But he laughs, and looks at me. I'd think he was being pitiful if he wasn't grinning so fucking hard.

"Bro," he says, "I'm doing this because I think it's hot."

My heart sinks. "You're doing this because, because it fucking turns you on? Don't you give a shit about me at ALL?? I'm going to lose my boyfriend, I'm trapped in this horny, sweaty, disgusting body..."

"Just stop complaining. You know, so what if you don't get in a say in this! Sometimes you just gotta take what life gives you, and right now that's a huge fucking cock"

I feel like I'm about to burst out crying. He grabs my new, boyish face, and pulls it up towards his. "So, yah! Glad I could clear that up," he laughs, "Look, ok, this isn't gonna work if you're gonna be such a fucking loser about it. It's also not gonna work out if you don't work out - you gotta be going to the gym from now on. Those biceps, those pecs... you're chiseled like a statue and I'm not gonna let those new muscles go to waste. You need to be in there DAILY."

He gives my cheeks a squeeze, then lets me go. I clutch my face. It feels different, unfamiliar. Am I crying?

"URGH, bro, will you just quit looking at me like that. Puppy dog eyes, I shouldn't have made you so fucking handsome... Look, I'm gonna give you one last chance, ok: cheer up, right fucking now, or else I'm gonna have to do some rewiring. Right now, all your decisions are being made up there", he flicks my forehead, and then he smirks and grabs my crotch. "But, if I flick the switch, this guy gets to do all the thinking. You'll be so dumb, so horny, HAH, you'll be drooling over your own dick. A real fucking animal. Got it?"

If I don't get a grip, it's over for me. But what do I do? I gulp, and try to swallow my tears. I wash my face a little in the sink. He stares down at me, and the two of us stand in silence. It feels like forever, but it must have been just a minute.

I look up at him, and let out a squeak. "Yeah. You're right. I got it"

"No." he says "I don't think you do."

Damnnnnn, look at these pecs. Fuck, what was I doing? Whatever, I gotta get back out there. See if that blonde guy by the bar is taken. Just thinking of him and his ass makes me wanna... I grab my crotch, and let out a moan.

Wait, is that cum? Yoo how did I not realise. I clean myself up and slide my waistband back over my jockstrap, letting it snap into place against my cum gutters. I flex, and light shines off my glistening, sweaty muscles - if someone were to see me now, they'd think I was a greek statue. These strong, firm thighs, the perfect curve of my glutes... these shoulders look like they were made by fucking Michelangelo.

Nah, I'm way better than that. A statue doesn't have a dick. See you at the club, bro

[fallenneziah]

is it too much if i ask you to do a part two of alpha!ghost and omega!reader 🥹

Ah, don't worry @dragonstoneshortcake I will feed you more.

Alpha!Ghost and Omega!Reader pt2

If you haven't you can go back and read part 1 and 3

Your first heat with Alpha!Ghost was one that would stick with you. Ghost all the same. After that first heat, watching his seed slowly dripping from your fluttering hole. He wanted to do it all over again.

Alpha!Ghost who let's you keep his shirt, telling you, "you might need it sweetheart," with a wink and starts to pack himself up.

Omega!Reader who does in fact need that shirt. Who has unexplainable want to burrow into it. Whimpering at night and holding it tight to suffocate you like a pillow.

Like a rabbit kicking it's back legs from excitement or anxiousness.

Omega!Reader who hasn't experienced anything like Ghost's thick cock deep inside them. Who moan loudly as they think about his knot stuck inside your sweet hole.

Alpha!Ghost who gets in teasing touches during practice. Hand gliding down reader's ass or over their shoulder. Warm breath fanning to their ear, tumbling deeply when he sees the sore bite marks that still remain seared on their skin.

Alpha!Ghost who ruts his cock between his pillow, trying to get friction like that little omega, the chemical reaction of your heat burned into his mind.

Omega!Reader who breaks the cycle and heads to Ghost's office, tenacious and eager. The smell of your delicious pheromones tell him all he needs to know before he's sliding you closer, hands on your hips, guiding you along.

Omega!Reader who takes Ghost's cock in their mouth, sweat tears rolling as Ghost's hips cant up, his voice vibrating in their stomach.

"Oh such a good fuckin' angel... So fuckin' pretty on my cock, so fuckin' pretty..." He groans, stroking your cheek as saliva drips down your chin and you choke down his length.

Alpha!Ghost who plays into and teases reader for being so needy. Spanking their ass as he takes down their pants, bending them over the desk and growling in their ear as his fingers work their hole.

Omega!Reader who whines in reply, bringing this interaction down simply to submit, and submitted. The animal in desperation and the animal willing to give. Basic instincts imbedded in your genes telling you to take him. And take him all.

Alpha!Ghost who doesn't care that your pheromones spread. Others will know it's him taking you. His cock sinking into your hole, pushing you against the desk, nails digging in.

"Look at you- oh fuckin' 'ell sweetheart-" He growls.

Alpha!Ghost who doesn't spare you anymore than last time. He knows you're out of heat and just want his cock, and he'll give it to you. Rearranging your insides and keeping you completely pinned under him. Seeing you squirm and arch before giving up makes him feel so good.

Alpha!Ghost who gets you on his knot, slamming deep inside of you, feeling how far he's pushed, that slight swell in your belly from how deep his cock is seated inside you.

"You look so good on my knot..." He admires his work, he admires your body.

Sitting in his chair and caressing your body. Making you whimper and shiver. His lips and tongue tasting every little bit of you. Your sweet scent just leaking off you.

Alpha!Ghost who hadn't talked with you about what you actually were. You'd fucked twice and he didn't really know If you'd want it further.

Did that stop him from protecting you? No.

Alpha!Ghost who is so protective over you more now than ever. If you're sparring with someone else and they remotely touch you wrong Ghost is up in their face with a nasty snarl.

That's his. You back away. Back the fuck away.

Alpha!Ghost who as far as he's concerned, mated or not, you're his. His seed stains your insides, he's been closest to your smell than anyone in base, he's seen you in heat. He's pounded your brains out.

You. Are. His.

Omega!Reader who finds themselves at Ghost's door often after nightmares. When they'd opt to be alone mostly, they can't help wanting his scent. Hearing him hum as he let's you in, smelling him everywhere.

Omega!Reader burrowing into Ghost's side and his blankets, unable to help being completely consumed by the scent. It's not bad, they sniff him, paw at him, shifting through the night.

Alpha!Ghost who finds it... Rather adorable that you want more of him. Shifting a little so you can press your face up to his chest, inhaling deeply and whimpering into his arms.

Omega!Reader who completely melts when his arms wrap around them, feeling very comforted and safe with him.

Omega!Reader whose nightly occurrences in Ghost's room because frequent. Every other night the two share a bed, sometimes leading to his cock down your throat as you slowly or desperately suck him off.

Or other times it ends with his knot deep inside you, whispering about how he'll get you pregnant. He'll knock you up so good with his pups.

Omega!Reader whose fantasies are all Ghost. Him pounding them full of pups and making them leak. Back arched and crying out his name like it's the only word they know.

Omega!Reader knowing they want so much more with Ghost. Knowing they want off their pills, to let his seed get them pregnant. Who wants to be called his mate. Who wants that so so badly.

Omega!Reader who will notice how Ghost gets flirted with by betas around the base and will end up whining. Like a neglected puppy.

"What's wrong love? Someone step on your tail?" Ghost will tease, unaware the other officers flirting has severely ticked you off.

Omega!Reader who tries to pull Ghost to their whim once, getting so far as a utility closet before Ghost shoves them in, pressing his chest to their back, hearing them whimper desperately for something.

"Shh, think you get to do that sweetheart? No, no angel." He whispers, kissing your cheek and rutting against your ass.

I'm sure you'll work it out together somehow 😉

[manikas-whims]

Skincare with the LADS Men

inspired by THIS recent text with Xavier where he said we left our pack of face masks in his fridge 🥺

SYLUS

🐦‍⬛ He maintains good skincare and overall hygiene. He's the type who's like “if i’m going out to commit some illegal deeds or kill an enemy, might as well look good doing it. His healing ability helps maintain a better skin as well.

🐦‍⬛ When you find out, you're kind of surprised that he's so well-maintained. And he takes offense that you'd have such low opinion of him just because of his profession. He scoffs. “Your assumptions wound me, kitten. Even the leader of Onichynus cares a little for his appearances.”

🐦‍⬛ Luke and Keiran later on giggle and reveal to you how their boss makes an extra effort to look better whenever you are coming to see him.

ZAYNE

❄️ There's a difference between hygiene and skincare. So just because he's a doctor, doesn't necessarily mean he's good at taking care of himself. Yeah he might take a bath and always put on clean suits but he doesn't really bother much with skincare itself.

❄️ It's not that he cannot do it but he simply doesn't have the time for it due to his packed schedule at the hospital. Almost twice or thrice when you surprise-visit him during his late night shifts, you've found him shaving his stubble at his office’s washroom lol. There are some faint cuts on his jaw and you fuss over them much to his delight.

❄️ His skin and body suffer mostly due to his eating habits. More often than not you've caught him sneaking way more macarons than good for his teeth. Not to mention, he doesn't eat proper meals due to his work.

❄️ “It’s not what it looks like. I'm a doctor. Obviously I know how to manage my health.” He laughs sheepishly because it's not often that he's on the receiving end of scolding, especially from you. You end up having to pay regular visits and watch over him for a while, bringing in full meals as is needed for him.

RAFAYEL

🌊 Thanks to him working at odd hours, eating at odd times, passing out on the couch every now and then that it's expected he'd be careless but he does in fact take proper care of his skin. And it's better than yours. (well ofc his Lemurian genes are partly to thank but he's a fish out of water so he does need to take care).

🌊 He knows his skin is amazing and he'll make a show of it in front of you. Not to make you jealous but because he wants you to praise him for it, call him pretty and handsome. “Come onnn!!” He drawls out. “Admit that I’m way prettier than those idols you're a fan of.”

🌊 Definitely enjoys doing skincare routines with you. Will indulge in manicures and pedicures if you ask, chatting with you all the while. Even recommends certain products that would benefit your skin. And offers to do your facial and massage.

XAVIER

⭐ Canonically isn't concerned with skincare. Even MC is shocked at the fact that his skin is doing so good despite any proper care. Probably the type who uses those “5 in 1” products 😭. Or grabs just any product without much care for the actual ingredients involved. How his skin and hair are doing alright? You have no idea..

⭐ You offer to do his skincare and he agrees because that just means he gets to spend more time with you. Enjoys the sensation of your hands on his face. Melts into a puddle if you wash his hair. You also try fixing some of his eating habits because alternating between cup noodles and meat ain't it. And though it takes a while, you figure out his skin type and help him get his own products.

⭐ You both develop a habit of putting on sheet masks while watching late night movies or playing video games. Sometimes you two just end up lazying around and talking about mundane stuff.

⭐ But even if you set up a whole routine for him, if he stays over at your place, then he's definitely using your shampoo. And if you ask him why, then he smiles innocently and answers, “Oh..it’s not that I am particularly biased to the product. It’s just that I like it when I smell like you.”

» MASTERLIST «

[hijackalx]

MALE BG3 CHARACTERS EATING OUT F!READER +18

characters included: gale, astarion, wyll, gortash

FEMALE BG3 CHARACTERS

a/n: HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY YALL!!!! your bg3 pookies have a present for you !!!! (hint: it’s head)

ASTARION

you guys already know i’m a pleasure dom astarion truther 😹😹 at the end of the game he is WHIPPED for you. so he enjoys every minute of giving you head

and he’s so good at it. and he knows he’s good at it

well— he’s good at it as long as he has the patience. sometimes he’d just rather make you finish on his cock and you know how he is when he wants something

ANYWAY……. he’s obsessed with the way you taste. and smell. especially when you’re close to/on your period. will literally BEG you to let him eat you out then

can be a little rough when you’re bleeding though. he gets a bit overexcited 😹😹 sometimes he has to stop and bite your thigh to regulate himself, which honestly hurts worse LMAO

will look you in the eyes while he kisses your clit

he basically never breaks eye contact. eye contact is HUGE for him. he’s mostly watching how you react so he can adjust accordingly, but he also loves how intimate it is

SO much praise if you react the way he wants— “thaaat’s it... that’s my girl”. he loves hearing you whimper his name, he could literally get off to that alone. your voice is as sweet as you taste

secretly loves when you reach out to hold his hand lol. he thinks it’s so cute

also loves having to hold your legs open when you start to squirm/try to close them. your thighs will be so bruised after

when you tell him how good it feels he goes “i know, i know” in the sweetest, faux-sympathy tone. he’s cocky with it lmao

immediately goes “come give me a kiss, darling” after you finish and he hasn’t wiped his face off yet. half of him is doing it to tease you and the other half genuinely wants you to kiss him lol

WYLL

i’m going to be honest i think you’re his first

he’s a little nervous to try it but he’s also SO eager. he’s just worried he’s not going to be good at it lol

he needs a lot of praise and reassurance. he’s constantly watching your expressions to see if you like it, but at the same time he doesn’t really know what to do if you don’t 😹

at first he’ll need some direction but he learns so fast. will start out slow and hesitant but eventually just loses himself in the pussy LMAO

gets rock hard from eating you out. the sounds and faces you make drive him crazy, mostly because he’s so eager to please. LOVES to know when he’s doing good

the type to moan into your pussy. probably because he’s grinding into the bed 😹😹

i think he could probably finish just from eating you out

when he gets more confident, he can be a bit of a tease. sometimes he’ll stop to pepper kisses on your thighs so he can hear you beg for him to keep going

he feels bad making you beg for too long though so he gives in pretty quick lol “anything for you, my love” or “your pleas are so beautiful— how could i say no?”

also i think he’ll eventually try to fuck you with his fingers while he eats you out too. once he gets the hang of balancing both it’s MAGICAL

likes to eat you out while you’re standing. something about having your leg propped over his shoulder while looking up at you from his knees does something to him BAD

he usually doesn’t want to overstim you because it feels mean 😹😹 but he will absolutely keep going if you want him to

GORTASH

i don’t think he really ate pussy before he met you LMAO

he seems like he can be a pretty selfish lover— if there’s nothing in it for him then what’s the point?

BUT……….. there’s something about you…….

he feels a little weird the first time he gets the urge to do it. he sticks his fingers in his mouth to clean them after they were inside you…… and when that creamy taste hits his tongue….. boom……. his third eye opens

he’s not super adept at it to start, but he’s got the spirit 😹😹

he literally eats it like he’s STARVING. i’m talking lickin’ and suckin’ on ANYTHING he can put in his mouth. nothing is safe. clit? assaulted. lips? sucked on. hole? tongue-fucked

even when he’s eating you out it’s like he’s doing it for himself LMAO. he just disappears into his own little world

he DOES love your praise though, so that kind of encourages him to try to work it out of you. he needs to hear you tell him how good it feels or it’ll bruise his ego

reaches up to knead a titty while he’s doing it

LOVES to do a bunch of hungry, flat sweeps with his tongue. will also press and hold it against you like that to get you to grind on it. he wants to see how needy you are

will say nasty shit into your pussy. “you taste so fucking good, baby”, “daddy loves this pretty little pussy of yours”. you can feel every vibration from his voice

will want to spit in your mouth after

GALE

i feel like gale is the greatest pussy eater there is. like he basically has no vices when it comes to eating you out

he’s extremely sensitive and receptive so he always knows what to do. sometimes you don’t even have to say anything. he just figures it out

his FAVORITE position is facesitting. eating pussy is a literal hobby to him

he’s SO good with his tongue. he has such good control of it and uses it to absolutely destroy your clit. his switching between circling and flicking will make you finish embarrassingly fast

will overstimulate you if you let him. he’ll keep making you cum on his tongue until your whole body is shaking

also the way his beard feels against your inner thighs/lips…………… magnificent……

since he’s a thigh man he loves to knead/bite/rub on your thighs too. will legit almost bust when you try to close your legs around his head. it’s that serious 😹😹

LOVES when you grind on his face. will grab you by the hips and encourage you to do it. you using his face to get off is so hot to him

likes to stimulate your g-spot with his fingers while simultaneously sucking on your clit. also gets off to all the lewd, wet sounds he creates while he does this

moans and groans like he’s eating a five star meal LMFAO

talks A LOT but it somehow doesn’t get in the way of what he’s doing. most of it is incoherent mumbling along the lines of “so good, so good”— but other than that he tells you how gorgeous/perfect your pussy is. i’m not joking when i say he worships your pussy

he WILL try to make you squirt. he’s in the splash zone for a reason baby