#lmao just like his long limbs and big hands

[cherries-and-knives]

Marauders headcannons for fun :P

Lily LOVES to crochet and tends to crochet even more when she’s stressed

The only person who rlly knows abt it tho is Remus

She taught him how once and now he does it randomly when he’s bored

But after she died he never touched a crochet hook again

The end :)

[gojorgeous]

"sure thing"

pairing: target!gojo x assassin!fem!reader summary: you've been hired to kill the satoru gojo. how will you pull it off... and what will you do when he figures it out? content: MDNI (18+ only), nsfw, darkish content (all is well in the end), no established relationship, assassins/organized crime, blackmail, mention of a “suicide mission”, attempted murder (uhhhh), hidden identity, intended use of sex as a means to an end, mating press, unprotected sex, p->v, creampie, oral (fem!receiving), praise, pet names (gorgeous/sweetheart/baby), slight aftercare. a/n: me 🤝 describing gojo as having dimples welcome to my second 1k followers event fic! At this rate tho i’m going to hit 2k before i finish the 1k event LMAO. not that i'm complaining hehe. thank you for being patient and for all the support on my recent works! i really appreciate every ask, comment, follow, reblog, everything. they mean the world to me. check out the rest of my 1k event here. enjoy and remember that ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! creds: twitter template by @cafekitsune wc: 7.8k

“Who?!” 

No fucking way. There’s no way he just said what you think he said. 

“You heard me,” he scowls. He glares at you from across the desk. His seat is one of those cushy little office chairs, of course. Yours is plastic– cold and hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you hiss. There’s no other explanation for what he’s asking you to do. He’s lost his fucking mind. 

“We have a client willing to pay big money for this. Big money for just an attempt,” he answers. 

You laugh, but there’s absolutely nothing funny about this conversation. “Oh, I’m sure you do. Probably because he’s practically invincible. I’ll never even lay a hand on him.” 

Your “boss”, for lack of a better term, only scowls harder, the wrinkles forming near his eyes etching deeper in his skin. “Well, you’d best find a way to make it work. You’re taking this job. That’s final.” You scoff. Maybe you should recommend he see someone… “No. There’s no way. I’m not doing this.” You stand, grabbing your bag and slinging it over your shoulder. “Get someone else to go on your suicide mission.” You take a couple strides toward the door before two very large men move to block your path. 

“Not so fast,” your boss calls. You pause, eyeing up your competition. You could definitely take them if you needed to. You sense only a very faint amount of cursed energy coming from each of them– not even enough to make you blink– but something in your boss’s tone makes you turn back. 

“Yes?” You cross your arms over your chest, fingering a blade hidden in your breast pocket. 

He fiddles around in his pocket, pulling out a cigarette and lighting up right there in his office. You don’t try to hide the way your nose scrunches up. “You want to do this job.” 

Your eyes narrow. Something tells you you’re not going to like what comes next. “And why’s that?” 

He takes a long puff, letting the smoke flowing out of his lungs with a slow exhale. “Because otherwise that little brother of yours is gonna be…” he pauses to give you a smile that makes your stomach churn. “Hmm… a lot smaller, shall we say? Maybe in several limb sized pieces?”

You think your heart stops. Time halts as ice runs through your veins. Nobody knows about your brother. At least, they didn’t. 

Your boss’s smile grows even wider. In all your time as an assassin, you’ve never wanted to kill someone more. But you know you can’t. Just an attempt on his life will end your brother’s. 

“Don’t worry. He’s all tucked away and safe at home where you left him.” Just a tiny piece of your heart thaws with relief. “But try to run with him, or run yourself, and he won’t be safe much longer.” Your pulse pounds so viciously you’re sure everyone can hear. A bead of sweat rolls down your neck. “Now, will you accept the assignment?” 

Your jaw clenches. He got you. In all these years of working for him you’ve been careful, meticulous about hiding every piece of your personal life to avoid situations just like this. But he still got you. He got you. 

“Yes,” you breathe. You have no choice. You will either kill Satoru Gojo or you will die trying. 

“Good,” is all he says, and then you’re being escorted out of the office wondering where the hell you went wrong. 

~

It’s been three weeks since that fateful meeting with your boss. True to his word, your brother has remained unharmed, but you see his lackeys lurking around every corner. Neither you nor your brother are truly safe and you never will be again unless you can pull this off and then put together some plan to escape your boss’s clutches. 

You’ll fail. You know you will. The thought eats you up inside with every waking moment. 

You’ve done your best to learn every possible piece of information about Satoru Gojo in the past two weeks. You know you can’t tail him closely– he’d pick up on your cursed energy and notice your incessant presence, so you’ve had to study from a distance with only minimal moments of proximity. You know where he works, who he works with, what restaurants, bars, and clubs he frequents and what days of the week he tends to visit. You know what his order is at his favorite ramen restaurant, where he lives, what time he wakes up. Hell, you know what fucking brand of dish soap he uses. He lives a surprisingly… predictable lifestyle. He makes no attempt to switch up his schedule or cover his tracks. In any other situation he’d be every assassin’s dream, but this is Satoru Gojo and Satoru Gojo doesn’t need to worry about assassins– assassins need to worry about him.

It took you the first week to come up with a plan. You had no clue how you were going to get close to him, much less kill him, and his infinity technique was going to prove particularly problematic. How were you supposed to kill him when you couldn’t even touch him? You had to get him in a situation in which he would willingly let his guard down for you. 

You’d been on the subway when it hit you. Sex. You’d get him to have sex with you. If you could get him to take you home, he’d have to turn infinity off for at least a short time. That would be your time to strike. 

You’d spent the next two weeks primping yourself. You’d bought the most expensive dress you’d ever owned, got a mani-pedi, whitened your teeth, and spent a small fortune on makeup. Considering your circumstances, you thought your plan was quite a good one. You knew when he’d go out to the bar with his friends, which bar he’d go to, how long he’d stay, how he’d get a taxi home. You also knew when you’d arrive, how long you’d stay, and how you’d get a taxi with him– everything planned perfectly to best catch his attention. But for all your planning, there was still one thing you didn’t know. What kind of woman did Satoru Gojo go for? Someone submissive? Teasing? Aggressive? Playful? In all your time tracking him you’d never seen him take somebody home. It struck you as… odd. He was Satoru Gojo, renowned for his power, wealth, and good looks– surely he had women falling at his feet. Maybe he was just a little more… selective. If that was the case you’d have to be even quicker on your feet when you finally met him. And that time is now. 

You’re in your bathroom, checking your makeup one last time before heading out the door. Your brother sleeps soundly in the room down the hall, safe for the time being. You’ve contacted a friend, one who is at least willing to try to get him out if– when– you fail. You doubt it will be enough.

You make your way to his room. A quick peek inside reveals he’s snuggled up with a plushie elephant that he carries around like they’re attached at the hip. You creep inside, a sad smile on your lips. This may very well be the last time you see him. You brush a stray lock of hair from his eyes and press a kiss to the crown of his head. With one last whispered ‘I love you’, you’re out the door. If you linger, you won’t be able to go– and you have to. For him. 

The streets of Tokyo are cold tonight, like the weather knows what you’re about to attempt, like it’s preparing for death, for failure. For your failure.

The club you arrive at is upscale, and one where you’ve already tipped off the bouncer to let you bypass the line. You hear a few groans from the people behind you as you saunter straight inside. 

You’re conscious of every little move from the second you step inside. At any moment, he could see you and it could make or break your entire plan.

You press your shoulders back. You have a plan– stick to it. 

You make your way over to the bar, weaving your way between groups of people who are somewhere between giggling a little too loudly and tripping over their own feet. 

You find a free space at the bar and lean up onto your elbows, your eyes screening the bartenders. You smile when you see a familiar face. 

“Hey, Dean,” you call.

He turns and the sight of his friendly green eyes sets you a little more at ease. 

“Oh, shit. Hey!” He slings a towel over his shoulder and comes to stand across from you. “You’re back,” he says. You nod and smile softly. Ever since you’d determined this would be the place you’d been coming periodically, chatting up the bartenders. The last thing you needed was to stand around in a corner alone with seemingly no friends. That wouldn’t attract anyone, much less Satoru Gojo. 

Out of all the bartenders, Dean was your favorite– and you’d been oh so happy to learn that his schedule put him on every Friday night. 

“Yeah. Long day at work.” 

A smile pulls at his lips, but there’s a hint of sympathy in his eyes. “The usual, then?” 

You nod solemnly. “That’d be great. Thanks.” 

You watch him prepare the drink for you, feeling a little bad that it’s all a lie. There’s no bad day at work, you didn’t just happen to come in here one day and strike up a conversation with him. All of this is premeditated, planned, and it feels… lonely. It feels lonely to know that on what is probably your last night on earth you are surrounded by people who only think they know you. 

“So, anything new happening?” Dean drops your drink in front of you and you have a feeling it’s filled with a little more vodka than he’s supposed to put in there. 

Your eyes shift around the bar as subtly as you can manage. As much as you want to seem like you fit in, you also need to find Gojo. It’s a fine balance. 

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess I just feel like a lot of things are going to be changing for me pretty soon.” 

His brows pull together and the look he gives you is one of genuine interest and concern. It makes your heart wrench. “How so?” 

You swallow. “Dunno. Just… everything.”

There’s a moment of silence and then the tapping of a finger on your glass. “Damn, girl. Drink up. You need it.” 

You can’t help but smile. You have a feeling that Dean would have been a good friend of yours in another life. 

You take his advice, though, and bring your drink to your lips and force a smile. You can’t be moping– not tonight. 

The next twenty minutes are spent with Dean. Even when he’s making other drinks he’s still chatting with you, still being a good… friend. You dread leaving your little haven at the bar. The time is coming when you’ll have to seek out your target.

You’re shocked when it’s the other way around. 

“Hey, gorgeous.” There’s a light brush on your shoulder and you turn. It takes all you have to keep your features schooled and calm. Satoru fucking Gojo just tapped your shoulder. 

Nothing prepared you for how handsome he is up close. All those days of research, of tracking and tailing– none of it does the real thing justice. Even with those stupid sunglasses inside… he’s fucking beautiful. “I’ll pay for all of your drinks tonight if you let me skip this hideous line,” he whines. 

You give yourself no more than a second to recover. You school your features into a smirk. You glance at Dean with an ‘is this okay?’ look. He just smiles and shrugs. 

You turn back to Gojo, bracing yourself this time for the beauty you’re about to face. You meet his gaze and know you could get lost in it. “Be my guest.” 

His smile nearly blinds you and his dimples nearly make you pass out. Still, you keep your cool. 

“Yesssss!” He looks like a puppy just offered a bone. 

He spills his drink order to Dean and it’s far more than could possibly be just for him. He’s here with his friends, then. Probably the blonde man who always looks too tired to be here and the girl with the brown hair who always seems like she’s just along for the ride. 

You bite your lip to hide a laugh when he orders himself two strawberry daiquiris. Somehow you still catch his attention. 

“What?” he pouts. You can’t help but feel a small stirring of surprise in your gut. He’s far more… relaxed than you’d expected him to be. He’s almost… childish? 

You press your lips together and shake your head. You’ve reached the point where your research can’t take you any further. From this point on, it’s up to you to discover what Satoru Gojo likes in a woman. 

You debate how to answer. Play coy? Tease him? Stay silent? Any option could be as correct as the next. You didn’t know where to start… so maybe you’d just start by being yourself. 

“Just, um… not the order I was expecting,” you laugh. It’s halfway genuine. With the way he’s acting, it’s hard to remember that he’s the most powerful man alive. 

His pout only intensifies. “Well, what’s your order?” 

His question is answered when Dean sets another cosmopolitan in front of you. You laugh. “Never said I was judging, just that it wasn’t what I expected.” 

Another smile tugs at his lips and something stirs in your gut that you try your very hardest to ignore. This was a job. There was no room for actually enjoying it. This man was probably going to kill you later, in a matter of hours. 

There’s a beat of silence, and then a slight shift in his demeanor. He leans closer and you see a twitch of his lips. Your heart jumps. 

“You’re a sorcerer,” he says. 

You hold back an exhale of relief. You thought he might be onto you. If he is, he’s choosing not to reveal it yet. 

You nod and take what you hope is a casual sip of your drink. “And you’re Satoru Gojo.” 

A brow arches high enough for you to see it over his sunglasses. “You know who I am?” 

You force a chuckle, smirking despite the pounding of your heart. “Who doesn’t?” 

You’d decided long ago to tell him that you knew exactly who he was. It would seem more suspicious for a fellow sorcerer to have no idea what the Satoru Gojo looked like. 

He flashes you a smile full of white and stupidly fucking perfect teeth. “That’s true, heh.” You press your lips together to avoid a smile. Not too humble, then… 

“So, what’s your technique” 

You shoot him a glance that questions his sanity. Asking a sorcerer what their technique is… is personal. It’s not information you give out to a rando at the bar– even if it is Satoru Gojo.

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” You take another sip of your drink, trying your hardest to remain somewhere on the border or interested and casual. 

“Bet I could find out.” 

That makes you turn fully, angling your body toward his. “Oh yeah? You challenging me to a fight?” You smirk and shake your head. “I’ll pass.” 

He pouts again, but you see a hint of a smile peeking through. “Aw, come on. That’s no fun…” 

You chuckle and take another sip of your drink. You’re not sure you’re sipping just for appearances anymore. You think you probably just need a little liquid courage to see this thing through. “Sorry. I value my life.” 

You watch as he slides his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose, just enough for you to get a glimpse of what’s behind. You nearly choke again and this time you don’t manage to hide your nervous swallow when he smirks. 

“You’re so sure you’d lose?” His voice is teasing now and you hate that it’s actually having an effect on you. Job, job, job, just a job… 

You clear your throat. “I like to think I’m not stupid enough to think that I could win.” 

His eyes are blue– so fucking blue– and you feel like he’s seeing straight into your soul. Can he see? Can he see your filthy intentions? Your plotting? The rottenness of what you’re going to do? “What if I promise to take it real easy on you?” 

Your drink is forgotten now. You’re lost in what he’s saying– in him. “No thanks.” Your voice is growing lower and you feel like there’s some magnet forcing you to lean into him, to seek his warmth. 

“So you like it rough, then.” The trance is broken and your blood runs hot. Holy shit. This man is flirting with you and you hardly even had to try. He's trying to take you home. Little does he know, you’re a sure thing. 

You watch as he throws back the rest of his strawberry daiquiri with a pleased “ahhh” at the end. When he turns back to you his eyes have a certain spark in them that makes your thighs press together. “You wanna dance with me?” 

Fuck. This is going too well to be real. But you’re not about to pass up a good deal. 

“What about your friends?” you ask and eye the several untouched drinks still left on the bar. It’s risky– giving him an out, but you can’t seem too eager.

He follows your gaze only to bounce his eyes straight back to you. “I’m sure they’ll get a look at ya and understand.” 

The smirk he’s giving you is making electricity shoot straight between your legs. Damn. You really wish you didn’t have to kill him– or at least try to. 

When he extends his hand you only hesitate for a second. Your heart leaps when you feel his skin on yours, knowing he’s let infinity down. He pulls you onto the dancefloor and it’s not long before he’s running his hands all over you– groping your ass, pinching your thighs, nipping at your neck. Pretty soon the dancefloor evolves to a dark corner of the club with his lips on yours and goddamn he’s a good kisser. You’ve got your fingers in his hair and his hand way too close to your boobs when he whispers those fateful words– “let’s get out of here.”

You can only hide your swallow and nod before he’s pulling you through the crowd, leaving the club behind. He hauls you both into the backseat of a taxi and the door’s barely closed before he’s all over you again. You think you hear the taxi driver mutter something about ‘staining the seats’ but you’re too far gone to give a shit. 

Fuck, he feels good. He’s kisses you like he’s starved and your lips are the fountain of fucking life, like he’s never felt something so good and now he can’t get enough. And, god, he’s handsy. You’re forever grateful to your past self for discreetly hiding your blade in your bra– he would have felt a holster on your thigh at least ten times over by now. 

He groans when you arrive at what you know is his apartment building, though you don’t let on that you recognize the place in the slightest. The look on his face makes you think he’s feeling actual physical pain at the prospect of having to peel away from you for even a second. Nonetheless, he tosses a wad of cash at the taxi driver and pulls you straight inside.

He can’t even wait for the elevator to come, groping your waist right there in the lobby and then when the elevator finally does come, shoving you up against the metal wall a licking stripe across your collarbone. 

You can’t deny how nice it feels to be so desperately… wanted. Never once has a man made you feel this way– so consumed by him, him, him. Once again you curse the universe that you’re here with a mission other than getting laid. 

You find yourself giggling when he pulls you out of the elevator and presses his palm to a fucking scanner to get into his apartment. You try to pull yourself together, but when he laughs with you, you can’t help but melt into him a little more.

As soon as the door clicks shut behind you, he’s got you up against another wall with your legs wrapped around his waist and his face buried in your neck. His sunglasses are long gone and you pull at his shirt, popping the buttons straight off the fabric until you slide the shirt down his shoulders and onto the floor.

“That was Versace,” he whines. 

You plaster your lips to his. “I don’t care.” All he does is chuckle. 

“So gorgeous…” he breathes and your head slumps back against the wall, giving him better access to the soft skin of your neck. Any minute now. Any minute he’s going to start stripping your clothes off and you’re going to have to let this charade crumble. You don’t want to. He’s practically worshiping you. It’s perfect, it’s amazing, and you don’t want it to end. 

His fingers dig into the flesh of your ass and suddenly you’re moving again– moving, moving, moving until your back is bouncing against the softness of a mattress and you’re fucking giggling again like a lovesick idiot. Maybe you’d had a few too many sips of those cosmopolitans. 

He’s smiling as he crawls over you and the sight makes your heart flutter with both lust and terror. Lust because he’s so fucking beautiful and terror because you know that any moment now you’re going to attempt to end that beauty forever. 

A lump forms in your throat and you try unsuccessfully to swallow it. You have to do this, have to try. There’s no other way, no other option. Not for you.

Your thoughts must not have been as perfectly concealed as you’d thought because he quirks a brow. “Something goin’ on up here?” His lips slide across your temple in a touch that feels far too tender for a hookup. “Don’t worry, baby. It’ll fit.” He snickers at his own joke before burying himself in your neck. His hand slides down your side, pressing you up into him until you can feel every curve and cut of his muscles. 

You bite your lip. You’ve already slipped enough for him to notice your nerves– you can’t let it happen again. You have to do it soon. Now. As soon as you see an opportunity you have to strike. You have to. 

You arch up into him, scratching your fingers down his back, trying to seem as invested in the moment as you can. He gets greedier, leaving open-mouthed kiss down your neck, across your collarbone. You nearly freeze up when he kisses low into the valley of your breasts– as low as your dress allows. Then he moves over your clothes, kissing down your stomach as his hands rub your thighs. 

Now. Now, while he’s not looking.

You slide a hand into his hair and another up to your chest, trying to play it off like you’re touching yourself. You sneak your fingers into your bra, feeling the cool metal of your blade glide across your thumb. Now. 

You fist your fingers in his hair, holding his head down as best you can while you arc the blade toward his neck. Just one good hit, please… 

You think you’re going to strike true– you’re so close– and then a firm hand wraps around your wrist, stalling your attack just as it was about to land. 

Fuck. 

He doesn’t look up right away, but you hear him sigh, feel his hot breath fanning over your thighs and stomach. When he finally does look up it’s with the eyes of a teacher who’s disappointed his student didn’t do their homework. 

“Come on now, baby. I was really hoping you’d forget about all this and we could just have a good night together…” He’s pouting, whining, like a child who’s been told he can’t have dessert before dinner. Your shock stills you long enough that he easily maneuvers the blade from your hand, throwing it with a thwack into the wall to his right. It lands perfectly. 

This is it. You’re going to die now. But not without a fight. 

You spring up from the bed, kicking him a couple times in the process. You’ve missed your only chance. Now, if there’s even the slightest chance of escape, you have to take it. 

You bare feet hit the carpet. No time to find your shoes. You dart for the door and hear him groan behind you. For a second you think you might actually make it, but you should know better. 

He appears in front of you, straight out of fucking thin air, and his pout has transformed into something a little more sinister. “Come on, gorgeous. Let’s talk it out, yeah?” 

You take a shaky step back, but you know it’s no use. He’s got you. It’s over. 

You swallow and lift your chin– you at least want to die with a little dignity. “Just make it quick. Please.” 

He sighs again and slides his hands in his fucking pockets, like this is just a stroll down the street. He stalks toward you, forcing you back until you’re pressed up against another wall. This motherfucker really likes walls. 

His pout shifts to a smirk that borders far too closely on a grin. “Oh, no. I’ve always had a thing for taking it slow.” 

You nearly snort. He certainly hadn’t had a thing for taking it slow just a minute ago. His arms cage you and your world grows infinitely smaller until it’s just him and those blue-ass eyes staring you down. Some distant part of you thinks you might not mind if it’s the last thing you ever see. 

“Damn, I really thought you might give it up and just let me fuck you,” his pout returns. “So disappointing…” he sighs. 

Your lips part. “You knew?” 

That lights his face up like a Christmas tree. “Sensed you tailing me these past few weeks. Started on theeeee– 21st, no?” 

Fuck. You’d been so careful. You’d only tailed him in public spaces, where your energy would be more diluted by the crowds. You’d stayed far enough away that he should only have caught mere glimpses of you, even suppressed your energy. He should not have been able to sense you. But he was Satoru Gojo– things people were not supposed to be able to do came easily to him. 

But you have one thing on him. 

“The 18th,” you whisper. “Started on the 18th.”

There’s a beat of silence and then his smile is growing wider, wider, wider, until it’s practically blinding you. “Well, shit,” he laughs. “You’re pretty good.” 

You let a tiny smile slip through your terror. “I try.” 

His eyes travel up and down your body, his pout slipping away to a frown. “What to do with you… hmm…” You lift your chin, taking shallow little breaths through your nose. You’re looking death in the face, but you’d never thought it would be so beautiful. He sighs. “I guess I could let you go.” 

You freeze. He notices. 

He quirks a brow, another smirk sliding across his lips. “What? Didn’t think that was an option?” You stay silent. No way he’ll let you go. It’s a bluff. A cruel trick. “It’s not like you could try again, gorgeous. I know your energy now and what you look like. Sorry, but your chance is gone.” That was fine by you. Your breaths come a little heavier, hope pulsing in your veins. “But–” shit. “Letting you go is so… boring. Especially after where we left off, yeah?” 

Your jaw drops. “You cannot seriously be suggesting that we–” 

He cuts you off with a kiss, one that makes your toes curl in the carpet and your stomach clench in anticipation. 

“Oh, yes I am,” he chuckles. You feel his hand sliding down your hip, cool and calculating. “I know you weren’t faking the whole thing, gorgeous. Nobody makes out like that when they’re faking it.” You feel your cheeks heat. “And nobody gets this wet-” his fingers snake beneath your skirt, pressing to the wet patch on your panties. “When they’re faking it.” You gasp and reach out, hands clasping onto his shoulders for support. He only chuckles. “No worries, gorgeous. No need for any more faking tonight. I’ll make sure it’s all real.” 

Somehow you’ve got your legs wrapped around his waist again and you’re headed to the bedroom– again. It’s like a replay– a redo. 

“Let’s keep it less killy this time, yeah?” 

Your back hits the mattress, your body bouncing lightly on its softness before he’s crawling after you. It’s simultaneously the best and worst deja vu you’ve ever experienced. 

His hands slide down your body again, fingertips hooking beneath the hem of your skirt and shimmying it up your thighs until your panties are on full display. 

“Shit,” you breathe. He’s moving so fast, like he’s desperate to go further, to get his greedy hands all over your bare skin. 

You can’t say you blame him. You feel the same.

His thumbs hook under the fabric of your panties and you know it’s over for you. You can feel his warm breath skating across your thighs, feel the calluses on his hands scraping against your skin. You reach a hand down, tangling it in his hair, and you nearly faint when he smirks and looks up at you with those blue fucking eyes. 

“I think I’ve seen this film before, sweetheart.” He tilts his head, resting his cheek on the plush of your thigh. “No more knives hiding anywhere, yeah?” 

You clench your jaw, trying to control your pounding heart. You can’t believe you’re doing this. Why are you doing this? You wish you had a better answer than he’s beautiful and sexy and just a glance at him makes you want to rip his clothes off and climb him like a tree. 

“Silent, hm? Guess I’ll just have to check myself…” 

He’s pressing up the hem up your skirt, more, more, more, until he’s pulling your dress straight up over your arms and running his hands down your bare sides. 

“None there…” His fingers cup your breast and you gasp, unable to contain your shock and the jolt that just rushed through you. He traces the outline of your bra. “You had the last one in here, no?” Your chest heaves under his touch, pressing the flesh of your breast up into his fingers. He smirks. “Best check again.” You feel an arm slide beneath you back and then your bra loosens before it’s completely gone. 

There’s a beat of silence, of admiration. He gazes down on you and you see his snark falter for just a moment, replaced by a sparkle in his eyes. It makes your skin heat. His fingers brush the swell of your breasts, thumb trailing down over a nipple. You arch and gasp again. 

“Fuck. Quit teasing so much.” 

He chuckles and the sound washes over you until it settles in your bones. “Sush. I’m not done checking for weapons yet.” 

You scowl but before you can even move to open your mouth he’s sliding your panties down your legs, hooking them around your ankles and tossing them somewhere on the floor.

His tongue darts out to wet his lips and you watch him settle himself down between your thighs, eyes never once leaving your center. “Don’t see any knives here, either, but maybe I should double-check…” he breathes. 

He hooks your legs over his shoulders and you shudder, your breaths shaky. Fuck. You were supposed to kill him tonight but if he keeps going like this you’ll be the one deceased. 

He meets your eyes when he takes the first long lick along your folds. You swear he’s smirking.

Your head rolls back and a pathetic sounding groan slips past your lips. You hadn’t realized how much he’d worked you up. Just the slightest touch feels like heaven.

His tongue nudges at your clits and your legs clench, tightening around his head. He laughs into your cunt and his warm breath skates up and over your tummy. Your fingernails scrape his scalp.

“I think you like this, gorgeous.” 

Each word sends little puffs of air against your folds. It’s driving you crazy. You stare down at him, letting a smirk pull at your lips. Your eyes dart over his mouth, wet with your slick, and you don’t fail to notice the way he’s struggling to hold your gaze, eyes flickering back down to your cunt every second. Your smirk grows. “I think you’re liking this, too.” 

He licks another stripe, from you pulsing hole to your throbbing clit, and this time he’s the one groaning. “Damn right I am.”

He eats you out like he kisses you– like a starved man, like he’ll die if he stops for just one second, like he can’t live without your juices on his tongue. 

You whine and bury both hands in his hair, tugging desperately when his lips wrap around you clit and suck. It’s so much, too much, and yet it’s just right. 

Your hips buck and squirm, but he’s got his fingers pressed deep into your flesh, holding you down to take whatever he gives. You think you see heaven when he slides two fingers into your walls, curling them into that gummy spot that has an unbearable heat building deep inside you. 

“S-Satoru-” you stutter and you hear him moan and mutter into your cunt like he’s unwilling to leave it for even a second.

“Fuck, yes. Say my name, sweetheart.” Who are you to deny him? You whisper, whine, and whimper his name with every thrust of his fingers, every lick of his tongue. It’s delicious. Every so often he swaps his mouth and hand, thrusting his tongue as deep inside you as he can while his fingers rub dangerous little circles on your clit. Whenever things get a little too filthy he laps his tongue across your entire cunt and along your inner thighs, cleaning up every stray drop. You don’t know how much longer you can last under such a complete and total assault. 

“S-Satoru, ‘m gonna-” He licks a thick stripe through your folds that makes your sentence end in a whine, his lips settling to suckle on your clit again.

God, it’s messy. It’s fucking disgusting. His whole chin is covered in spit and slick– and you love it. “Cum for me, baby,” he breathes. 

You don’t need to hear much more. You let the heat inside you release with a whine, thighs trembling on his shoulders. Your walls pulse and throb around his fingers, sucking him in and never wanting him to leave. His tongue continues to rub lazy circles around your clit, working you through your high and making it last so long you think you might pass out.

Warmth spreads from the top of your head to the tips of your toes and your muscles tense and clench with each pulsing throb. You swear to god you see fucking stars.

It seems to go on forever, leaving you limp and shaking when the last waves finally slip away. 

He presses a final kiss to your clit, one that makes your hips jolt from the overstimulation before he’s lifting himself up. “Wow. That looked like a big one,” he chuckles. He runs a soothing hand along your thigh and you don’t even have the energy to give him some sort of snarky reply. There’s hardly even a pause before something shifts in his eyes. “Let’s see if we can get one that’s even bigger, yeah?” 

Before you can even process what he’s said you feel strong hands slide under your thighs, pressing them tightly to your chest as he settles himself close to you

You grasp at the sheets, hearing the clinking of a belt buckle and then the familiar pitch of a zipper being undone. 

“Fuck,” you mutter. He’s big. Long and pretty and with a perfectly flushed tip. Your eyes are rolling back just thinking about having him inside you.

A strong hand smooths along your thighs, folding you in a way that feels more vulnerable and exposing than anything you’ve ever done before. He pauses for a beat, just staring down at you silently.

“Gorgeous,” he finally mutters, and something in your heart squeezes. His hand grips your hip firmly, holding you in place and you gasp when you feel him prodding at your entrance. It’s pathetic. You’re pathetic. Big bad assassin turned simpering little bitch over some good Gojo dick. 

“Just relaxxxxx, baby.” His hand rubs soothing little circles into your side and it’s so divinely distracting that it catches you by surprise when he starts pushing into you. You gasp and he only chuckles. Asshole. 

He’s big– really big – and the stretch is somehow both painful and perfect. You groan into the air, struggling to take him. Every inch feels like it must be the last, but then there’s more. Your walls clench around him on instinct, trying to force him out. 

“Fuck, baby. What did I say about relaxing?” You hiss when his hand skates down your tummy to rub messy circles on your clit. The relief is instant and you moan when you feel him slide in a little further. “There we go. Good girl.” 

He continues feeding his dick into you, inch by inch, until his hips finally press to yours and you think you can feel him in your fucking throat. You hear him exhale, like it’s a relief to finally be fully inside you, like he’s been waiting for ages. 

You expect him to not hold back, to let himself go and pound into you relentlessly, but he doesn’t. He only leans down closer to you, settling in when he starts a pace of slow, sensual thrusts. His brows pinch, his eyes hardened in concentration.

“Ah, fuck. You’re so tight.” 

You want to shoot something back at him, but you’re hardly remembering to breathe with how deep he’s sliding into you. Instead, you just end up holding him tighter, your eyes fluttering shut. 

Lips dust across your cheeks, just below your lashes. “Keep your eyes open, gorgeous. Wanna see you.” 

You blink, thinking that it’s a notion that feels a little too intimate for a hookup. Regardless, you do as he wants, opening your eyes and holding his gaze.

A smile splits his lips and he presses his forehead to yours, picking up the pace of his thrusts. It’s not long before the sound of skin on skin fills the room and you’re both panting. His breath skates across your skin, hot and heavy, hitching with the groans and whines that spill from his chest. You can’t help but pull him closer, raking your nails down his back hard enough to leave marks. The action makes him emit a noise you can only describe as a desperate whimper. “Fuck, baby. Yes.” 

His lips press to yours in a kiss that’s all desperation and teeth and tongue. You kiss him back with equal intensity, your body rocking with each heavy thrust. He’s pounding into you now, frantic for more, more, more of you. You want him to take it, take all of you. 

A familiar heat pinches in your stomach and you know it won’t be long before he’s pushing you to another release. His dick drags in and out of you, prodding at the gummy spot inside you with every thrust and brushing so deliciously against your cervix that you can’t stop the moans spilling from your lips. It has you seeing stars again, has you clawing at him and panting into his mouth. 

“Satoru… harder,” you breathe. You need more– more of everything, of him. 

He groans. “You got it, gorgeous.” 

His hips slam into you and it’s so perfect that you can’t help but whimper beneath him. It only gets worse when you feel his fingers on your clit again, hand pressed between your bodies. “Cum on my dick, baby.” Your eyes roll back, that coil inside you rolling tighter. You feel his muscles tensing and shaking above you and you know he’s close, too. “Where do you want it?” he asks, and from the pinched look on his face you can tell exactly where he wants it. You know you’re an idiot for feeling the same. 

“Inside,” you breathe. He groans so loudly it rattles in your ears.

“That’s my girl,” he says, but it’s nearly a whisper with how strained it is. His hand continues at your clit, rubbing perfect little circles that make your legs tremble where they’re pressed against your chest. Your jaw hangs open, but you don’t dare close your eyes. Satoru is still holding your gaze intently, desperately, like he needs to see you. The thought throws you over the edge.

You cry his name, clawing at his shoulder and shaking like a leaf as you feel yourself gush and pulse all over his dick. For the second time that evening you feel the heat inside you swell and burst, washing through you in waves that nearly consume you whole. It’s a struggle to hold his eyes, to not let them roll back into your skull and give into the pure ecstasy of your high– especially when he’s cumming, too. You can hear him moaning in your ear, feel him twitching inside you, feel his hot cum coating your walls and there’s just so fucking much of it. You swear he cums for a minute straight before he slumps down onto you, burying his face in your neck as you pant. 

You’re shaking and so is he, breaths heaving in and out. Reality slowly starts to seep back in, even with his dick still softening inside you and his cum leaking down your thighs. 

You tried to kill him. You failed. You had sex. Now what? Would he really let you go like he’d said he would? You wanted to believe it, but life hadn’t taught you to be that trusting. You should move, untangle yourself from him and escape before he has time to change his mind. 

“You assassins are always thinking so hard,” He mumbles into the curve of your neck. “Maybe you should try to relax for once.”

You swallow when you feel him pressing his lips to your throat, trailing up to your jaw. It’s… tender, gentle, and it feels so nice. You can’t help the way you melt into the touch a bit. You feel him smile into your skin. “There we go.”

His hand settles on your waist, rubbing soothing little circles that send a jolt of urgency up your spine. No. You’re enjoying this– being close to him, laying here with him, breathing him in. That’s not what this is supposed to be. 

You tense again, shifting to get away from him, but he only sighs and presses his weight onto you. 

“Come on, gorgeous. No need to leave so soon. Just stay for a bit, yeah?” He nibbles at your jaw, but it doesn’t work this time. You have to go. You’ve failed your mission. You don’t know what that means for your brother. You’d never thought this would have an ending besides your death. 

“I have to go,” you mutter, pushing at his chest. 

He chuckles, but you don’t miss the strain and… hurt? “Got something more important than trying to kill me?” 

You clench your teeth, trying once again to shove him away. “Yes, actually.” 

He finally pulls back to meet your gaze, brows slightly pinched. “Like what?” 

You push in earnest now, anger and panic rising in your gut. You have to go, have to check on your brother, have to figure out what you’re going to do. “That’s really none of your business,” you seethe. 

You go for another shove, but strong hands clasp around your wrists, pinning them to the bed. His expression has gone flat now, serious. “Actually, I think it’s completely my business. You going to report your failure? Should I expect another assassin soon?”

You scowl, tugging at his grasp and trying to free yourself. “Yeah, probably. He’s an insufferable idiot. I told him it wouldn’t work and it didn’t, but I don’t doubt he’ll send another.” 

His face cracks, his brows pulling together again. “If you knew it wouldn’t work then why’d you take the job?” 

You struggle again, less angry and more desperate now. “Because he’s got my fucking brother at gunpoint and I’ve got to figure out how the fuck I’m going to save him!” you shout.

There’s silence for a long moment– a long, uncomfortable beat of it– and then his expression softens into something… tender. It sends a chill up your spine. Satoru Gojo was never supposed to be tender with you, and that’s all he’s been. 

“I’ll save him,” he says. Your heart jumps and his grip on your wrists loosens, allowing you to slip free. 

“What?” you breathe. He sits back, allowing you to prop yourself up into a slightly less vulnerable position. 

He exhales slowly, but you don’t miss the way his hand settles on your bare thigh, a comforting weight. “I’ll save your brother and then I’ll take care of your boss.” A smirk creeps across his lips. “What? Don’t think I can do it?”

You stare blankly, lips parted. There’s no doubt he can do it, but that’s not the question swirling in your mind. 

“Why would you help me?” You’d tried to kill the man. You couldn’t make heads or tails of a reason why he’d go out of his way to help you. 

He chuckles. “Well, in case you didn’t know, I’m a hero of sorts.” You have to fight not to roll your eyes. “And… there’s something I want from you.” 

There it is– the catch. He wants something. You have no idea what you could possibly have to give him, but you’re willing for it to be just about anything. You narrow your eyes. “What?” 

He grins, but you can see the glint of mischief in his gaze. His hand slides further up your thigh, up your side, over your shoulder, until it rests at the nape of your neck and his face is only inches from your own. “What’s your number, gorgeous?”

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[wheeboo]

seventeen acting clingy around their s/o

PAIRING. seventeen (o13) x gn!reader GENRE. fluff, established relationship, headcanons WARNINGS. terms of endearment, mentions of kissing WORD COUNT. 1.04k

requested by anon: hi hi i’m a fairly new follower n i jus saw that ur reqs are open !! i hope im not too late ^^; but anyway, how would svt act whenever they feel clingy and needy towards their s/o? hehe ty and i lov u 🫶

notes: hehe i hope this is good!

choi seungcheol

his eyes and pout are literally following whatever direction you walk. waits on the bed with his hoodie on while you are cruising in and out of the room to grab something or put your laundry away. is slowly melting into the bed waiting for you to notice him and when you FINALLY walk back in the room asking to use his charger, he’ll be pulling you into his arms just muttering “stay with me, pleaseeee. I’ve missed you,” in your ears n you just gotta give in because he misses you sm 

yoon jeonghan

always has some type of limb on you. you both can be sitting on the couch together and he keeps glancing at you while you’re watching the tv. trails a hand onto yours or grabs it so he could play with your fingers in his lap. really wants to cuddle but he won’t ever admit that cuz he’s a freakin tease ofc. you look at him grazing his finger against your palm, and then he gets all soft seeing you and opens his arms, just wanting you to hold you and you prob both end up falling asleep on the couch together

joshua hong

backhugs!!! backhugs!!!! anytime i think of joshua i just think of backhugs for some reason lmao. he loves backhugging you in general but gets extra clingy after having not seen you for a while. maybe you’re cooking and he comes up behind and wraps his arms around you, or doing your skincare and he hugs you while admiring your bare face in the mirror, whispering a lil “I’ve missed you, sweetheart~” 

wen junhui

tries to make you smile and laugh by saying these cringey and cute pick-up lines like “can I borrow a cuddle? I promise I’ll give it back” and even makes himself cringe. you just roll your eyes to his nonsense but end up cuddling with him anyway. makes you be the big spoon because he just loves the feeling of your arms around him. you can prob catch the smile forming to his face despite half the pillow covering it

kwon soonyoung

um you’re not escaping him. whenever he feels clingy or needy he’s (gently, well he tries to be) tackling you to the bed or couch because he misses you like the world is ending and never fails to remind you of that. like he’s literally locking all of his limbs around you like a pretzel lmfao i’m sorry. constantly telling you how much he misses you, peppering kisses to whatever sort of skin is available to him. yeah he’s not letting go of you

jeon wonwoo

never the type to appear being clingy (mainly in private tho), usually waiting for you to do the first move instead of him. but maybe he’s particularly touch-starved after a long day and when he joins you in bed and you aren’t asleep yet, you feel his arms practically scoop you up into his embrace, surprising you. you’d ask if everything was okay, and he just mumbles something along the lines of, “yeah, just want to hold you” before nuzzling his face in your neck

lee jihoon

literally laying right next to you on the bed just contemplating his entire life’s worth of decisions if he could just simply ASK to cuddle you. gets red at the thought of it because you both normally don’t cuddle alot. turns on his side to be able to face you, and whenever he gets the courage, he asks quietly, “do you want to cuddle...?” and you peer at him surprised, before replying, “you know you don’t have to ask permission”

xu minghao

is unusually quiet, but this type of quietness along with him staring at you with those tired eyes- yeah, he really wants to cuddle you or just be near you. just wants to wrap his arms around you with his head on top of yours or on your shoulder, kinda falling asleep but also trying to pay attention to whatever book you’re reading or scrolling on your phone. at some point you both fall asleep together

kim mingyu

is already clingy asf around you, like backhugs, neck kisses, picking you up off the ground randomly you name it. is it possible for someone to become more puppy than a puppy? gets all whiny whenever you playfully reject his affection, but best believe you won’t get far from the bed before he’s pulling you back into his arms, not satisfied until he’s basically encased you like a burrito

lee seokmin

oh he brightens up like the damn sun. he’s already clingy but in more smaller gestures like wanting to hold your hand all the time, playing with your hair, cupping your cheeks in his hands and telling you how cute you are. if he’s feeling needy and been waiting to be in your arms the entire day, he would def be the type to might initiate a lil tickle fight for the promise of cuddles later on and who will become the big/little spoon

boo seungkwan

becomes your certified baby literally. taps and pokes at your arms, plays with your ears, grabbing your hands and twiddling with your fingers. he’s doing that all with a pout to his face cuz he thinks it’s a bit ridiculous to straight up ask for cuddles. becomes so giddy whenever you pat the bed/couch for him to come closer, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder

vernon chwe

is also quiet about it. the type to rest his head in your lap upon coming home from a tired day, slowly turning into an unacknowledged cuddling session on the bed where you both are like doing your own thing while also having your arms or legs wrapped around each other. honestly this type of stuff doesn’t really need words from the both of you, it kinda just happens naturally

lee chan

kinda just throws himself onto you. not in an aggressive way, but he spots you on the couch or bed and lets himself fall into your arms like a trust fall except you don’t fully catch him cuz he ends up on top of you with you falling with him. becomes your own personal blanket in a way as he mutters about his day and complains about how much the members bullied him throughout practice into your neck and how much he missed you

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[seratopia]

miguel o'hara x reader (fluff) - please? → she/her pronouns!

miguel begs you not to get out of bed

By far the highest blessing you could receive in the morning is Miguel O'Hara's morning voice.

Deep, gravelly, and sparse, Miguel's morning voice always manages to send chills down your spine, especially when you're nothing but a hair's width apart from his chest.

You can feel his heart slowly beat against your cheek, his chest rising and falling to the sound of his breathing. Waking up to a face full of chest has been unexpectedly, one of the numerous highlights of your day.

Slowly, your eyes flutter open, and it takes you a moment to come to your senses. He smells nice, a reminder of the shower gel you keep in your bathroom for when he visits.

Miguel's almost too big for your bed; he takes up your space, barely fits the comforter, but you love him anyway. You really don't know how, or why Miguel chooses to sleep with you in your tiny little bed, but you don't complain.

"Amor."

His wording rumbles from the deepest parts of his throat, and you can feel the vibration of his voice against your ear. You squirm a little, tiny noises escaping your mouth as you make yourself just a little more comfortable.

"Mmmph... what time is it?" You murmur into his skin, savoring the warmth he omits.

Miguel lazily rests his heavy arm over you, running his abnormally large hand over your back. He presses a darling kiss into your hair, humming. It's only you who gets to see him like this, all sleepy-eyed and touchy beyond repair. You try to savor this version of Miguel as possible, knowing that he has to be someone else when he's at work.

Miguel keeps a single arm on you while you try to bend your arm in impossible ways, twisting and turning your limb to try to reach your phone on the bedside table. Eventually it works, and you manage to slip your phone into your fingers before you dislocate your arm.

"It's 9:23..." You breathe, sighing before turning your phone back off and placing it next to your pillow.

Miguel's pulling you in like a magnet, snuggling you like a puppy would a teddy bear. He's just too cute like this, hands and legs roaming around your body for something to squeeze. As much as you absolutely hate to let go of him, duty calls.

"Miguel... we have to go to work."

He can hear the distaste in your voice, reminded of the agonizingly long spread of cleanup, the idea of people bothering him, the mediocre food at the cafeteria. (Except for the empanadas, lmao)

Miguel doesn't want to go to work today, and he doesn't think you do either. Wearing a skin-tight supersuit just wasn't it today.

"Noo...." Miguel whines, strengthening his arms around you. You have to tap on his arm, just so enough air can find it's way back to your lungs again.

"Miguel, we have a job to do." You say, rubbing the sleep away from your eyes. You hear him groan into your hair, your mind practically going blank at the sound of his intense morning voice.

We mUST stay focused brothers, we must stay focused!!!

Almost like every morning, you begin your wrestle for freedom, pushing at his forearms wrapped tight over you. It's almost like you forget that Miguel's a superhuman Spider-Man. Stubbornly, he keeps his lazy stance, ignoring your tiny pushes and shoves.

"Oh my gosh, Miguel. Let me go. If you don't go to work, I will." You curse, squirming and kicking yourself in all sorts of directions.

He shakes his head again, eyes closed shut and nose still in your hair.

It was only a matter of time before you'd tire yourself out.

And you did.

Miguel's got the shittiest, most satisfied grin on his face, and all you can do is scowl at him. Still, he hasn't let go of you, and now you're convinced he wont let you go until the end of the day.

As much as Miguel was stubborn, you were too. You have a final ace up your sleeve, and hopefully it'll save both Jessica and the kids from disarray in the office today.

Miguel's face starts to melt down a little when you flutter your eyelashes at him, shoving your face into his chest and pressing a sweet little kiss between his pectorals.

It's like the satisfaction from Miguel transferred over to you, and Miguel is left speechless as you trail your way up to his clavicle, nipping and kissing at the surface of his skin.

"Let me go, please?" You ask, specifically in the tone of voice that you know Miguel loses his shit over.

His voice is hitched in his throat, ears turning scarlet as his grip around you starts to loosen.

"I... honey-"

The moment you reach his neck, Miguel know's he's done for, a chill running down his neck and back. It makes him all hot, his mind being wiped clean like a whiteboard. Just for the funsies, you kiss his pulse point a little, wrapping your own arms around his neck.

Utterly, Miguel melts, the sweetest, poutiest expression on his face like he doesn't know what to.

You win.

While you still can, you slip out of Miguel's grip, your feet finally meeting the carpeted floor. Miguel realizes your little act, grumbling and pouting to himself as he relishes the disappearance of your warmth.

"If you come to work, we can do more..." You tease, trotting off to your bathroom with a chuckle.

Reluctantly, the man rises from your bed, the boards creaking under his weight. (One day, he's gonna break your bed, somehow.) He follows after you, running his hand through his messy bedhead.

"Coming, sweetie."

© 𝒔𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒂.

[sutorus]

Hello! Can you do jjk men reaction when y/n said their safe word during sex? Only if you're not busy! Thank you! 😘

JJK MEN’S REACTIONS TO YOU USING YOUR SAFE WORD

FEATURED: gojo, geto, toji

WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI. fem reader, afab terms, use of safe word, descriptions of anxiety. please mind individual tws for each scene. proceed with caution and don’t read if it’ll make you feel bad! take care bbs

A/N: my first request i hate it but i hope you love it anon!!! 😊 also sorry i couldn’t do nanami or choso if i’m inspired another time i’ll add em to this LMAO

GOJO SATORU

warnings: reader is blindfolded and bound (wrists), use of safe word, unprotected sex, crying, descriptions of anxiety

you’ve done it a ton but it still makes you nervous. 

one sense is kind of a lot to lose when you only have five of them, as a non sorcerer. but the relinquishing of control, entrusting your safety and pleasure and entire body to someone else… it turns you on beyond belief. 

so here you are, tonight, blindfold tight over your eyes and hands bound behind your back as satoru fucks you, pace languid, fingers running all over your body. 

any other day, it would be just what you needed to relax. any other day you’d be squirming in pleasure, hips bucking wildly against him as your nails claw at your own palms. 

but today, for whatever reason, it’s uncomfortable. maybe you’ve had too much caffeine, maybe it’s the stress of his most recent mission, the first one to ever have you worrying your lip all night long thinking, maybe he’s not coming back this time. 

his wandering hands feel foreign, the pleasured moans coming from his mouth sounding distant and wrong. your arms tingle from the position you’re in, your sweaty skin itches and you can’t reach to scratch at it. 

you furrow your brows. 

“satoru…” you whine softly, still unsure of what to ask for. 

“mmm?,” he grips your waist, his strokes deep and precise. “my pretty baby looks so good like this. so mine.”

you whine, wriggling in search for comfort. satoru must mistake that for pleasure because he fucks you just a little bit harder, puffing out hot breaths into the crook of your neck. 

“kiss me,” you ask, hoping it’ll make it better, but it does nothing to calm you down. with no stimuli but touch, your brain starts to go into overdrive, and you feel tears begin to trickle down your face.

satoru notices, but not in the right way. 

“is it that good?” he teases, like he always does, but today it sends a chill down your spine. “i could do anything i wanted to you right now and you wouldn’t even know. wouldn’t be able to stop me.”

that does it for you, a wrecked sob leaving your lips along with your safe word. 

satoru stills immediately. you can feel him softening inside you and for some reason that only makes you cry harder. 

gently, he reaches behind your head to unhook the blindfold, his worried gaze searching your face for answers. 

he lifts your back and unties your wrists, rubbing them to soothe the friction from the ropes. 

“baby…” his tone is careful and guilty. “sweetheart, is everything okay? did i do something, what did i do?”

you sniff. the first words that come out of your mouth are, “i’m sorry.”

you’ve never had him so doting, so tense, all that confidence vanishing and it makes you chuckle, this big lanky man handling every limb of yours like they’re made out of snowflakes. 

“satoru, i’m okay. i just…” you inhale deeply. “i just got overwhelmed, is all.”

he lays down beside you, visibly unsure about touching you. you grip his hand firmly in yours, offering him a wavering smile. 

“i’m okay, i promise. you’re good,” you lean over to peck his lips.

satoru looks regretful, but he relaxes at the gesture, caressing the side of your face softly. 

“i love you so much. i’m sorry if i, like, went too far or something—“

“you did nothing wrong,” you assure him. “i think i’m just having a bad day. just wanted to see your face to feel better.”

at that, he smirks. he kisses you slowly, adoringly, unspoken apologies every time your lips touch. 

“i am sorry, by the way,” you say. satoru looks back at you with a confused expression on his face. you continue sheepishly, “for having to use the word.”

“huh?” he exclaims, his incredulity so earnest that it rips a hearty laugh from you. “nah, hell no. thank you for saying it, actually.”

“yeah? you’re not upset?”

“of course not. i completely understand,” he traces a line down your body. “not being able to see my handsome face would make anyone cry.”

you slap his hand away playfully and he pulls you into his chest, cuddling you.

you stay like that until you fall asleep, reassured that the most powerful sorcerer in the world is indeed fit to take care of you; heart, body and soul. 

GETO SUGURU

warnings: overstim, degradation/humiliation and dirty talk, use of safe word, reader’s discomfort is brief but descriptive

you don’t know how long it’s been. 

maybe ten minutes. maybe twenty. maybe ninety. 

you don’t know how many times you came. 

your entire body is covered in sweat, the top of your thighs and the bottom of your ass soaked in your own arousal. 

suguru holds the wand to your clit almost disinterestedly, eyes glazed over and locked on your cunt. 

he fucking loves it, making you cum over and over again, thrash against his body, make a mess on his sheets. and you love it just the same. 

the undivided attention, the devotion, the seconds right after when the stimulation doesn’t stop and it hurts so bad before it gets mind-numbingly good again. 

“hahh,” you breathe out, voice cracking. “i—i’m gonna—“

“oh, you’re gonna?” suguru mocks you. “shocking.”

you moan at his words, his tone. by now, your body barely has any energy left to react. all you can feel is the release of an unbelievable pressure in your core as wetness gushes out of you uncontrollably when you cum. 

your puffy clit is throbbing, thoroughly abused, your spread legs quivering in pleasure. you sigh in anticipatory relief at the incoming break suguru is bound to give you after your orgasm. 

except this time, the break doesn’t come. 

“ahh!” you scream — honest to god yell — as the buzzing continues, suguru pressing the wand down hard on your pussy. 

he chuckles, playing with the toy, lifting it up just slightly before bringing it back down on you, over and over again. 

“can’t—i can’t, suguru, i can’t cum right now—“

“of course you can, baby,” he says in a sickeningly sweet voice, getting off on your desperation. 

usually you’re just as much into it as he is, but this time it’s for real. it’s painful and not in the nice way, you’ve hit your limit but you can hardly talk, can’t do much more than try to wiggle away from your boyfriend’s ministrations. 

“how can you say that when you have such a slutty pussy?” he runs his fingers through your slick folds, and every clench of your cunt makes it hurt even more. “so greedy…”

you’re clawing at his hands, but he’s so much stronger than you, his forearms and thighs holding you down, leaving you entirely to his mercy — of which he has none. 

“please please fuck please no more—“

it’s something he’s heard you say a thousand times, in a thousand different scenarios, and never truly mean it, which is why you even have a safe word in the first place. 

oh right. the safe word. 

you pull it out from the depths of your fucked out, mushed up brain and blurt it, digging your heels into the mattress. 

it all happens so fast, after that.

suguru all but tosses the wand to the side, switching to lightly stroking your pussy. it makes you jolt; even a gush of air right now could probably make you cry in overstimulation. 

“oh fuck, shit,” he removes his hand and you whine. “what do you need baby, what can i do?”

“s-suguru…” you’re still trying to catch your breath, your legs spasming erratically. 

“i’m here, i’m here,” suguru starts to move towards you but stops halfway. “do you want me to be here?”

you let out a croaky laugh, opening your arms because you’re too far gone to use words. 

hesitantly, he lays his head on your chest. when he feels how fast your heart is beating, his own sinks to his stomach. 

“i’m so sorry honey. i thought you were into it.”

you swallow, taking a few beats to regain your composure. 

“i was, it was just… a lot, all of a sudden.” 

suguru turns his head to look up at you. 

“i get it,” he wipes away a stray tear you hadn’t even noticed you’d shed. “i’m sorry. i love you, i'm so sorry—”

“it’s okay,” you offer him a weak smile. “it’s what the word is for, right?”

“right…” he sounds unsure. that makes you frown. 

you two lay there for a while, until your breathing has evened out, until your thighs have stopped shaking. 

you can practically hear the hear the cogs in his brain turning, certain that his brain chastising himself.

“hey, suguru?” your voice rips him right out of his thoughts.

“hmm?”

“can you promise me something?”

he sits up in attention, instinctively reaching for your hand. “of course.”

“promise me you’re never gonna stop fucking me like that," he gulps, audibly, visibly relaxing. "and i promise to always let you know if i need to stop.”

it takes a beat, but suguru finally loosens up, pressing his smile into your lips over and over again and mumbling all sorts of promises of his own against them.

TOJI FUSHIGURO

warnings: knifeplay, cnc (sort of), roleplaying, pretty graphic descriptions of anxiety and panic, oral (m! receiving)

“what’s a pretty lil’ thing like you doin’ here this late at night?”

you roll your eyes to yourself before putting on your best innocent look to turn around and face the man. 

he’s smirking down at you, the streetlight lamps casting dark shadows on his features. 

if you were being honest with yourself, you’d never really been interested in roleplaying in your previous relationships. it was always so awkward and you never truly felt any incentive to stick to the script no matter how much the scenario excited you. 

until you met toji, that is. 

he was always so into it, played his parts convincingly well, which should probably worry you considering he would always opt to play the sleazy delivery guy, the pervy doctor, the horny stranger in a bar. 

as for you, acting the part of the ditzy student or the clumsy maid or whatever the fuck toji wanted you to be that particular day… yeah, that was embarrassingly hot too. 

tonight, he’s playing creepy guy in a dark alleyway. he’d texted you in advance, a very romantic meet me in that alley between the tracks and the highway. dress slutty. 

“i was just looking for the station and got lost…” you mumble, looking up at him through your eyelashes. he pouts in a fake display of pity, twirling something inside his jacket pocket. 

“oh, what a coincidence! i was just on my way there. care to accompany me?”

you smile sweetly, linking arms with him. 

soon enough, you find yourself being shoved past toji’s apartment door, his pocketknife prodding at the small of your back. 

you have to contain your giggles to stay in character, letting him toss you onto his bed. you also have to fight your anger when he slashes through your top, a sleazy smile on his face as he breaks character to say he’ll get you a new one. 

he’s so goddamn hard that it should concern you, holding your jaw open while he feeds you his cock. 

“god—shit, that’s right, such a slutty little mouth,” you moan around his length, hands resting primly on top of your thighs. “you were just begging for it, weren’t you, slut?”

you bob your head up and down, putting on a fake grimace while squeezing your legs together at the same time. 

you hear something click in the distance, the sound barely registering in your brain as you get lost in the scent of him. he’s beginning to push into your throat now, laughing like a maniac when you choke on it. 

“c’mon now, open up that throat for me, girl,” you inhale in preparation. but your breath gets caught in your throat when you feel something cold and sharp poke you. “or maybe i’ll just to do it for ya with this.”

toji’s pressing his switchblade to your neck, grazing it delicately up and down. 

he’s not going to hurt you. you know that.

the blade is probably too dull to pierce skin even if he tried, but he would never, you know this, you know he won’t. 

and yet despite that, your heart is jackhammering in your ribcage, uncontrolled and wild as your eyes widen around tears. 

toji takes your inaction as a sign to just start fucking your mouth a little more, but your attention is zeroed in on that pocketknife. 

suddenly colors are sharper, like it’s bright as day inside his dimly lit bedroom. a headache begins to bloom and you start choking in earnest now, not because toji’s going too hard but because you can’t coordinate your breaths. 

he starts tracing your throat with the blade. “feel me right here sweetheart? fuck.”

you’re clearly struggling but it’s hard to distinguish your real reactions to the character you’re supposed to be playing. that only serves to make you panic even further, hands coming up to push on toji’s thighs. 

“hands to yourself, whore,” he grunts, pressing the knife a little too hard, a little too close for comfort, and you hit your breaking point.

you start garbling wildly around his dick, repeating your safe word over and over again until a very confused toji finally makes out what you’re saying. 

he rips himself out of your mouth, instantly dropping to his knees and grabbing your chin in his hand. 

“oh fuck, did i cut ya sweetheart?” he moves your face from side to side, examining you. 

you swallow around the lump in your throat, willing your heart to calm down. 

“uh, n-no. just got a bit too real there, for a moment.”

he sighs, partially relieved, reassessing the situation. you’re gulping in air, blowing it out of your mouth in calculated puffs. 

toji waits until you're visibly calmer before he gets up. 

“wait here,” he orders. 

you sit down on the floor, hands wrapped around your knees and mentally repeating to yourself that you’re okay, it wasn’t real, you’re not in danger. 

toji returns with a glass of water, sitting down in front of you and waiting until you’ve drank most of it. 

“you okay?” he asks. 

you take a beat before you can honestly say you are. you nod. 

“that knife on your throat was a bit too far, huh, babe?”

“yeah,” you garble out, tracing circles on his knees. “could’ve warned me of that particular detail. asshole.”

he laughs but his body language isn't nearly as carefree. 

there’s a long drag of silence before he speaks again. 

“i’m sorry, honey. really.”

and toji, as amazing as he can be, is usually way too prideful to admit guilt. so the fact that he apologizes is what finally gets you to fully relax, knowing he does realize the situation you were in and feels bad about it. 

“honestly we can stop with all the roleplaying bullshit, it’s getting kinda old anyways. you know i don't need you playing a slut to get you acting like one on my co—“

“toji,” you hiss, and he puts his hands up in mock surrender. “it’s fine. i think i have a better idea, anyway.”

that seems to spark his interest. he rises his eyebrows, prompting you to go on. 

“because there’s a few roleplays we haven’t tried yet. and if you genuinely feel so bad—“ he says your name sternly but just you ignore him, “then i know the perfect thing you can do to make it up to me.”

“babe…” he bemoans like a chastised child, with a hint of resignation at what awaits him. 

when he sees that you’re beaming he just takes a deep breath, running a hand through his hair defeatedly. 

“when?” is all he asks. 

impossibly, your smile grows even wider. 

“i already ordered the costume! and the cat ears should be here next week,” you kiss his forehead, propping yourself on his shoulders to stand up. 

you hear him groan in the distance as you skip to the bathroom, turning on the faucet. 

he stalks after you almost immediately, wrapping his arms around your waist and honest to god pouting at you in the mirror. 

“are ya really going to do this to me now?”

you grin. 

“don’t you mean meow, kitty?”

a/n: yayyy my first somewhat wholesome post i am so bad at this but i hope it was readable! bye now!

[lale-txt]

♡ 𝟗:𝟑𝟖𝐚𝐦 𝐰/ 𝐌𝐚𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐚 & 𝐠𝐧!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

@eustasssimp asked: okay so I just had to based on our recent conversations but FIRST!!! THANK YOU FOR REOPENING YOUR INBOX!!!!! your writing is such a gift and I am so excited to see what people request 💛 I hope you can have lots of fun with it could I please request some sfw Madara and just spending a lazy relaxed day at home with him? grumpy man needs to RELAX (I haven’t requested in so long I am desperately trying to remember how to do this lmao) thank you so much dearest Lale I hope you are able to have a good time and take it easy with the requests you get coming in 🤍

a/n: first time writing for this fine gentleman eep! thank you so much for your request, Lem! this was so much fun to write (though it did take a slightly different turn than i expected and somehow Hashirama makes a guest appearance oops)

word count: 1k

Your morning starts like it always does: Tangled.

Black hair is spilled all over the shared futon, getting in your eyes while you’re slowly blinking awake. You try to stretch your limbs but hear a disgruntled noise in your ear in return, a low and raspy voice muttering your name, while strong arms (and a leg thrown over your lower half) pull you closer. You laugh quietly against your partner’s chest, hearing his heart beating slow and steady next to you. 

“You came home late last night… did you have to drag Hashirama out of the gambling hall again?”, you whisper with a hint of amusement in your voice, which is answered by an annoyed huff from Madara. 

“That idiot almost lost his hokage cloak and the stupid hat… should have just left him butt naked on the streets and gone back home to you”, he replies, his eyes still shut. Madara isn’t a morning person, never was, but the fact that he’s engaging in a conversation with you means that he’s either more awake as he pretends or that he’s feeling slightly guilty for letting you go to bed alone last night. 

Your heart flutters and you smile when Madara presses a soft kiss on top of your head. His embrace feels the same like his love does; warm, secure and maybe a bit too intense if you’re not used to it. He is an Uchiha after all, who are notorious for the way they love–but you wouldn’t want it any other way.

“I know you always come back to me though,” you whisper and cup his face with two hands once you manage to brush aside his long hair (and yet it was still everywhere). The morning sun was slowly crawling through the closed curtains but neither of you felt the urge to get up just yet. 

Madara hums at your words, placing his hand on top of yours to kiss the palm of it, down to your wrist, before opening one eye slightly. There’s a faint smile on his lips when he glances at you, and once again you can’t believe that you get to wake up next to him every day–for the rest of your lives even, the golden wedding bands on your ring fingers being proof of that. In one swift motion Madara rolls onto his back and your body right with him, making you lie on top of him and muffling your small protests with a kiss on your lips. 

“Can we stay like this for a little while?”, he mumbles in your ear, big hands finding their way underneath your shirt to feel your soft skin, fingertips drawing small circles on your back. You reply with a small noise of agreement, your face nuzzled in the crook of your husband’s neck, enjoying his affection. Oh, how tempting it is to drift back into sleep… and after all, why not? You’ve found a home in these arms, the safest place on Earth. Madara kisses your forehead, loving this slow morning as much as you do. If you had your eyes open, you would see the smile curling up on his lips and the tenderness in his gaze as he looked down on your figure resting on top of him. 

“I could make us breakfast,” he mumbles after a while, lifting your chin with two fingers to kiss your lips again, “and maybe run us a bath afterwards? Been a while since I washed your hair for you.”

A heartbeat later there’s a rattling noise coming from the kitchen, as if someone dropped several plates all at once, followed by a quiet “oops” in a voice that sounds a little familiar… 

You prop yourself up on your elbows to look Madara in the eyes, one eyebrow raised in suspicion.

“You’re not just proposing that because there is–what I assume–a half-naked and hungover hokage in our kitchen, roaming around for something to eat?” 

Madara looks guilty as charged and gives you an expression that could be best described as puppy eyes, silently pleading for your mercy. You can’t help but laugh and place a kiss on his lips. It’s not like you were mad at him to begin with, you found it was actually very thoughtful of your husband to make sure his best friend didn’t get himself into any trouble and risk getting scolded by his stern brother once again. Plus it wasn’t the first time either, you were almost getting used to your snack stash getting raided by a certain someone…

“I’ll kick him out and then I’ll make us breakfast,” Madara corrects himself with a slight cough. “Our bathtub is too small for three anyway.” He laughs quietly when you smack him with a pillow, grabbing your wrists playfully to stop you from attacking him any further. Madara uses the chance to kiss you again, a little more intense this time until your shoulders slump down and you practically melt into his embrace again. Sneaky, witty Uchiha.

“Tell Hashirama that next time he steals my husband away, I’ll file an official complaint with the hokage office”, you tease once you watch Madara get up and leave the room, wearing nothing but a loose morning robe. He rolls his eyes at you slightly but his smile betrays him as he stops in the door frame to look at you, still in the sheets that smell so heavenly like him. He shakes his head and laughs quietly, heart so full of you, and then he’s stomping down the hallway towards the kitchen.

What was supposed to be a quiet morning somehow turned into a kitchen duel of two adult men challenging each other in who could beat eggs the fastest (Hashirama, but Madara cooked them faster thanks to his katon) with you as their judge, and an impromptu breakfast with even more unannounced visitors (Izuna and Tobirama coming to check up on their respective brothers after abandoning them last night at the gambling hall for good), filling your house with bickering and laughter. 

But you don’t mind. As long as you get to be his, mornings like these make your heart grow fonder, knowing you have a lifetime with each other ahead. It is right there, in front of you, this bright, blazing heart of his.

[plutoswritingplanet]

You Started It pt. 2(Buggy The Clown x F!Reader)

a/n: GMFU, that's all i have to say. this chapter was strongly inspired by the song Shikayat from the movie Gangubai Kathiawadi,

Warnings: General Asshole Behavior from The Man Of The Hour, Hostage Situation, Light Bondage (lmao), Some Good Old Smexual Tension.

Summary: The time for your great performance finally arrives, but the culmination will surprise both you and your captor.

Part 1.

You awake to the sound of music. Drums, trumpets and bells fill your ears, shaking you from some pleasant dream, where you could run free with your brother and his crew. Instead, your forehead aches from the way the bars of your prison dug into it, while you slept. Your legs are sore as well, dangling above the floor, wooden planks leaving marks on your thighs. Your joints crack, as you try to straighten yourself to the best of your capacity, an unpleasant shiver running up your back. Groggily, you wipe left-over tears from your eyes. The music wires itself into your brain, like a bug drilling inside your skull.

Then, someone yells. You know the voice all too well. The music stops immediately, and with a quickened pulse, you hear footsteps approaching the door to the backroom.

He waltzes in, a spring in his step betraying his barely contained excitement. It's been a week since your faithful conversation, and you haven't been moved from your spot above ground. Like a bird in a cage, he has kept you locked, visiting even more often than before. To feed you, give you some water, drink in the sight of you, pester you with questions you had no intention of answering. Truly, your purpose here must've shifted from solely being a Hostage, to providing Entertainment. Just like he's said when you first got here.

"Hostage!" he exclaims, as soon, as the door closes behind him.

"Captain" you answer, voice tired and still traced with the remnants of sleep. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"

He's not bothered by your sarcasm. You're not sure if he even registered it, with his giddy state.

"Today's your big day!" he jumps a few steps in your direction, wobbling on the balls of his feet,

At your confused, if slightly annoyed expression, he raises his hands, and that's when you notice the elephant in the room. A costume, folded neatly in his arms, one, you're without a doubt expected to wear. It's pink, baby pink and frilly to say the least. You can see an ungodly amount of ruffles, and sequins, and small golden bells. It makes your face involuntarily scrunch up. Never in a million years you'd be caught wearing such a pink thing of your own accord. But, as much as you hate the sight before you, the show must go on. You know it, and he most definitely knows so, too.

You flinch, when the Clown throws the costume to the side, lets it collide onto the table, bells ringing loudly. Then, he produces a key from the pocket of his trousers

"Be good, or else" he warns, and you nod, because what else can you do.

The soft click of the lock is like music to your ears, and as soon as the man opens the door, you nearly moan at the feeling of your legs finally being able to stretch. He watches from the side, as you unfurl yourself from the cage, limb by limb. Oh, the feeling of solid ground under your feet is almost too much

"I really cooped you up in there…" he muses to himself, and you contain the venomous look you were about to throw him.

Instead, you opt for stretching out your sore muscles, rising your hands as far above your head as you possibly can, and try to ignore the spark in his eyes, as he watches your shirt ride up your stomach, Finally, he clears his throat, crosses the room to the table and gathers the costume back in his arms

"Don't take long" he winks and points his chin towards the dressing room screen, tucked away against one of the walls.

Grabbing the amassing of fabric from his arms, and trying really hard not to touch him, you retreat to hide behind it. The screen is big enough to cover your body, but your head peeks above, and you shoot a cautious look towards the clown. To his credit, he hasn't moved any closer, rummaging through one of the chests at the end of the room. Your eyes catch a glimpse of something metallic and very sharp, disappearing into the inside pocket of his coat, and your heart jumps to your throat.

Your hands now shaking, you lay out the fabric, trying to get a good look at the costume, before you have to inevitably put it on your body. As you look at the full garb, it doesn't look as intimidating, as before. The ruffles, although pink and obnoxious, are flowing nicely with the entirety of the outfit. It is, however, much more revealing, than you've anticipated, and against your better judgement, you throw a single, judgy look towards the Clown, who immediately catches your eye at the other side of the screen

"Chop-chop, we haven't got all day" he smiles at you, full teeth on display.

Shaking your head, you begin to undress, movements slightly skittish, from the sudden anxiety running up your spine. The outfit slides against your body with ease, the fit being slightly too big on your figure. The expanse of your stomach lays bare, ruffles from the hem of the skimpy top tickling your ribs. Your legs are also, almost completely exposed, the lower half of the costume turning out to be a skirt with rather deep cutouts on the sides. It's a shame you don't have a mirror anywhere nearby, although perhaps it's for the best. You don't know if you could stomach to look at yourself in this ridiculous getup

"Ready, Hostage?" his voice startles you against your will, and after a couple of deep breaths, you step out from behind the screen.

His face remains blank, but his eyes feverishly run all across your body, taking in the image in utter silence. Again, anxiety rises in your gut, this time however, you begin to worry that somehow, this isn't enough. That this isn't the vision he has conjured up in his head, and anything deviating from his vision was sure to anger him beyond belief. You bite your lip in anticipation, as he slowly starts to walk towards you. Then, to your utter confusion, he kneels down just in front of you.

Silence envelops the two of you like a blanket made of tar. It pours into your lungs, making you unable to breathe. His hands are steady, as he reaches out and places them on one of your ankles. Your mismatched shoe slides off your foot under his gentle tug. Then, the other one. Your bare feet hit the floor and that's when you realize, you've begun to shiver

"The audience will love you" he breathes, voice quiet and reserved, almost unrecognizable from his regular, flashy persona.

Then, his hands retract to the inside of his coat. Your breath hitches, as he pulls out a golden cuff adorned with the same, small bells, which are currently attached to the rest of your outfit. Your brows furrow, and another, unexplainable feeling blossoms in your stomach, as you watch him lean down to clasp the cuff around your ankle, the second one following closely behind. His hands linger for a moment, and another surge of trembles runs through you. He's warm, and his fingers are calloused, but somehow, your skin doesn't seem to mind. If anything, you'd risk saying the way he softly slides his digits up your calf is enjoyable. Troubling and confusing, yes, but enjoyable nonetheless.

You sway in your place, as he rises from his knees

"Give me your hands, Hostage" since when has this nickname become so affectionate on his lips, you can't remember.

One part of your brain reasons, that it's a recent development, caused by the time you were forced to spend in his grasp. The other, more treacherous part supplies, that this strange intonation has been there from the very start. You were just too stubborn to notice it.

The tremors running through your hands, as you raise them to present to him, are honestly embarrassing. Your head hangs low, to shield your face from his gaze. It's no use, he can see right through you. The flush in your cheeks, your mouth falling slightly open, the shine in your eyes. He eats it up like a man starved. Reactions, that's what he's after, and with the way you've been acting, you've given him quite the show already.

It's quiet again, safe for the occasional jingle of the bells, as he gently locks two bracelets around your wrists, identical to the ones on your feet. His fingers toy with the golden clasp, brushing against your running pulse. Tension builds in your stomach, as his eyes finally look up to yours. You would've believed you were solitary in your confusing feelings, if his breath didn't come out in quick gasps through his painted lips. Lips, which in this quiet moment seem much too appetizing than they had any right to be.

"You look perfect" his breath brushes against your face, "There's just one little thing, that's missing, Hostage."

Your brows scrunch together, as you watch him reach into his pocket yet again. A beautiful silken scarf slides between his palms. It's pink as well, adorned with constellations stitched in with a shiny thread. Your confusion deepens, when he grabs your hand and turns your wrist up. Then, your heart drops.

Between the rows of small bells, you can see a golden loop attached to the cuff, identical looking back at you from your other wrist. You try to voice your protest, try to wring out your hand, but his grip on you tightens, and he tuts quietly under his breath.

"Can't have you flying away now, can I?" he weaves the scarf between the loops, and ties your hands together, leaving the fabric to drape in between

"How the hell do you expect me to perform with my hands tied?" your voice comes out much weaker than you've anticipated, betraying your growing fear.

To that, he looks up with a grin, yet his eyes remain cold, causing your whole body to shiver.

"You're a smart girl, you'll figure it out."

His finger detaches again, flying towards your nose and pushing it hard enough to make your entire face scrunch up. Then, he grabs a handful of the fabric, tugs on it to check the binds, and starts walking towards the door, not sparing you as much as a glance. And you follow, obediently, trying to make his head explode with your brain.

It's your fault, really, the feeling of disappointment and anger swirling around in your head. All this sudden quiet intimacy has clouded your judgement, and you've forgotten who you're truly dealing with. Oh, how you wish you could do anything to hurt him. How you wish, your brother would rescue you already, free you from this prison, not only physically, but mentally as well, so you won't have to think about this stupid, homicidal clown ever again.

If he senses you fuming behind him, he doesn't comment. And why would he? You're still following him, as he drags you through the stage, right to the middle of your future dance floor.

Your eyes dart around the place, trying to find anything, anyone, who could help you escape this predicament. To your surprise, and later, horror, the Circus is completely empty. Not a soul shares your fate. Not the public, not his Freaks, not even the Announcer. The silence makes goosebumps erupt all across your flesh, and words get stuck in your throat, as Buggy turns to face you with an unsettling grin plastered across his lips.

"I thought a private performance would be much more appropriate for you, my Hostage" his smile widens at your expression.

You want to scream at him, punch him in his stupid face, but all you can manage is glare daggers at his stupid face. Suddenly, the lights flicker on, startling you, as beams of light flow around you, only to fall right on the two of you. Buggy grabs your face, squishing your cheeks between his palms. His enthusiasm would be contagious, if you weren't scared shitless by this entire situation.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, welcome to a one-of-a-kind performance" he whispers inches from your face, "My dearest Hostage will dance for her life… and for your entertainment."

He lets go of you, forcefully showing you away, and you take a step back to stabilize yourself. The lights focus solely on you, and in the brightness surrounding you, you realize, you can't see anything besides the middle of the dance floor. Cackling like a madman, the Clown steps back, his hands clasped in front of his chest. You almost call out for him, as he slides into the shadows, but any sound dies on your tongue.

You're alone, again. Your breath quickens, as your heart nearly jumps out of your chest. This is not at all how you've envisioned this performance to go. Well, above all things, you didn't expect it would happen at all. Your brother should have freed you by now, and while you had your utmost faith in him, you couldn't shake the feeling of deeply seated worry. Which is why, you had to endure this torture. So you can see your brother again, when he finally comes for you. With a determined expression, you nod your head at the darkness and raise your hands, getting into, what you hope would look, like a dancing stance.

He holds you in anticipation for a moment longer, as any great showman should. And then, music floods the stadium. Bells and violins, distorted slightly by what you assume is an old gramophone. You recognize the song, thankfully, your face falling slightly, as you remember the meaning. A love song, of course, about hatred and affection. Bitter-sweet. Your limbs feel heavy and awkward, but you start to move nonetheless.

He wants a private show? You'll give him one, he won't forget.

The rhythm picks up and so do the movements of your hips. Bells jingle all around you, as you slide from one place to another, clouds of dust flying around your feet. The scarf turns out to be a major distraction, as you're unused to being bound. It takes you a while to get the hang of it, but once you do, you make the fabric dance with you, flowing around your body with satisfying grace. The song becomes even faster, and you twist and turn, ruffles jumping, as you run, accompanied by the bells. Your feet start to hurt from the roughness of the floor, but you ignore it completely.

The song drops before the second verse, and you follow the rhythm to the floor. Using all the acrobatics you've picked up through the years, you begin to writhe in the sand, adding a clap and a stomp, bells jingling to the music. That's when you finally see him, crouched down right in front you, watching your dance with a tilt to his head and something terrifying swirling behind his eyes. It makes you falter in your choreography, makes your guts twist with a feeling too close to arousal.

Then, a glint of something silver catches your eye. It swishes through the air, and plants itself right between your legs. A knife. Sharp and polished to perfection, it embeds itself into the wooden floor, splinters flying from the impact. The scream you let out would make a Banshee cringe, as you push yourself as far as you can from the weapon

"Now, now" Buggy calls out across from you, his silhouette barely visible in the darkness" The show must go on, Hostage."

He sounds terrifying, like some demon from your darkest dreams. But the music still plays, and you'll be damned, if this is what takes you down. So, you wipe your forehead with the silk scarf, contort your body and stand up, straight as a chord. Now, it's no longer a simple performance. Your blood boils inside you, fear giving space to anger and, strangely, some sort of misplaced ambition. You want to impress him, you want to make him frustrated, angry. Dust flows around you, as you resume your dance, movements much more confident, violent even.

He stalks you from the shadows, producing another knife from his pocket. It shines, when he lets it fly in your direction, but you don't even flinch, when it swishes right by your ear. Then another, grazes your torso, as you bend backwards. This one nicks you right below your ribs. You can feel blood running down the length of your stomach. No matter. Your eyes still follow him, and he steps closer to the light. Another knife, inches from your left foot. And closer he stalks. You can see the tips of his shoes enter the spotlight.

That's all it takes for you to make a decision. You won't play this torturous game any longer, and as the music nears its climax, you close the remaining distance between the two of you, hands flying to the collar of his shirt, fisting it tightly.

You're panting, so is he, as you stare at each other, all innocence gone from your respective expressions. Fury, oh, fury, you're not sure if you want to kill him, or kiss him, and as he produces one last knife from his pocket, the sentiment seems to be mutual

"You started it" a growl frees itself from the depths of your chest, and under your tight grip on his shirt, he shudders violently.

There's heat pooling into those blue eyes irises of his, enveloping you completely in the moment. But then, his eyes follow your scowl down to your lips, and you realize, you've never tasted face paint. What an interesting experience it would be.

This moment of tension is broken almost immediately, as clouds of smoke fill the tent, seemingly out of nowhere. Suddenly, something yanks you backwards by your arm, something puts a knife in your hand and something yells for you to run. So you do, you turn from the Clown, his figure drowned in smoke, and you run as fast as you can, without looking back. He screams some words you're too scared to decipher, his voice breaking. A disembodied hand flies in your direction, but you dodge it expertly. One more tug from the hand gripping your arm, and you fall through a thick curtain.

The sun outside the Circus tent blinds you, nearly making you lose your footing, but a pair of strong arms hold you in place, and a familiar head of ginger hair turns around to face you

"Come on, the ship is not far" Nami yells, and you can't contain the smile blossoming on your lips.

The Hostage, freed at last… Or so she hopes

[nymphbnny]

2 AM AGAIN _ f.toji

tw. 1.7k wd, bouncer!toji, smoking (j.), minor breast play, oral sex (f. & m), unsafe sex (lmao), praise, spanking (minor) MDNI !! in honor of our big buff daddy getting animated, even if i don't like the voice they picked for him...

you sat on your couch, your limbs spread out from the long shift at the pub. you had to work long hours to afford rent and so far you've been managing. well, almost managing. you try to reach your small stand to pull out a half-smoked joint you didn't get to finish before leaving. with a bit of struggle, you manage to pull out both the lighter and the joint together.

you sit up, ready to smoke the rest of your blunt until a knock on your front door interrupts you. you get up and look into the peephole and internally smile when you see toji standing behind the door, his hand against the frame and his face looking down the hallway. you giddily open the door and welcome him with a warm hug. "'m sorry for coming at that time but i couldn't sleep and i figured you'd be up still so," he trailed looking at you. "i needed a partner anyway, come on in." he raises his eyebrow at your statement then boyishly smirks when you hand him the joint which he happily lights up. you watch him wrap his fingers around it, inhaling then holding the smoke in before saying: "shit's good", then blowing out the smoke, his voice sounding raspier than usual.

"mhm", you hum, your eyes looking at his tight black t-shirt then sneaking a peek down his gray sweats. "wanna watch something?" you suggest pointing back at the couch with your thumb, walking backward before plopping back on our couch, your legs propped up on your small wooden table. he shrugs and sits down next to you, his bicep rubbing against your leg as he reached to get the ashtray that was on the opposite side of the table.

toji and you were friends. he was the bouncer of the pub you work at and defended you once when perverts tried to hit on you. you had sex once though, just once, even if you secretly wish it was more. it was a tough night for both of you and you ended up at your place drinking scotch until you were undressed and tangled up on your bed.

you still find him attractive but you didn't want to make anything awkward so you kept your distance. you're acquaintances, friends at best. trying to get rid of your thoughts, you take the joint that was laying in the tray and bring it to your lip, toji watching how nicely your lips wrapped around it. he noticed the remote next to you. as an excuse to get closer to you, he brought his arm around you and got the remote, your body squished to his. he didn't remove his arm, instead he turned on the TV and started switching channels until he found a nice movie for you two to watch.

"how was work? i didn't see you today," he spoke up, his hand resting on your arm, rubbing the flesh softly. your body was on fire, the weed getting to your brain, making you melt even more in his touch. "yeah i got pretty busy at the bar, busy night. i can't feel my fucking legs anymore," you chuckled smoking, then you feel toji shift next to you, his body straight up, moving your legs so they're laying on his lap and your head in comfortably seated at the end of the couch. his free hand massaged your legs softly. "better?" his voice rough but smooth. you nodded then rose your arm to place the joint between his lips. you didn't break eye contact and you could tell that his eyes were looking at you like you were a prey. you've seen that look before.

to your surprise, he didn't react much, or initiate anything. he just kept talking about whatever movie he put on and how dumb modern producers were. you didn't care. the joint was long gone, and so was your brain. you wanted him and you were slowly dying on the inside that he didn't feel the same. you stop him by sitting up and setting yourself in his lap.

you shift to get comfortable, his jaw locking from the pressure you were applying on his crotch. "toji," you whisper almost into his mouth, your eyes looking at his delicious lips. "yeah?" he breathed out, his arms wrapping around your torso to keep you in place. you placed your hands on his wide shoulders, then dragged them down his buff chest to his stomach, his breathing getting heavier. as you opened your lips to speak, his hand was wrapped at the back of your neck and slid his tongue inside your mouth, his lips wrapping around yours.

your hands gripped the end of his hair, pulling him even closer to you as you kissed him back. you missed him so much it was driving you crazy. "i missed you so fucking much." he said before kissing you again, his hands holding your head in place. his dick was getting harder beneath you, your baggy t-shirt not hiding much of your bare pussy. you just remembered that you were totally naked under that singular piece of clothing.

"toji," you broke the kiss, both of you breathing hard. "i want you." you sat up slowly, your hand pulling down his sweats along with his underwear, his dick sitting up. pretty and swollen. you licked your palm and rubbed it, earning a small gasp from him. he looked at you in awe, his heart beating faster by the minute.

he pushed your hand away and guided your hips towards him, his hand palming your pussy, a smirk forming on his lips when he realized you were fully naked. toji help your hip with a hand while he grabbed his dick with the other, positioning you on top of him before lowly pushing you down, both of you gasping out as the tip went in, stretching your muscles.

"more," you moaned out, your hand on his shoulder as you took more of his length and girth, your mouth agape. his fingers worked their way towards your top, slowly pulling it off your body, exposing your breasts to him. "you're so pretty darling," he muttered, his hand placed on your back. "toji, fuck me, please" you begged as you tried to move up and down his dick. "shh baby let me take care of you," he sat up, his lips on your breast, sucking and licking your nipple as he began moving your hips rhythmically with his thrusts, meeting them halfway, his dick almost fully in as he pushed deeper each time.

"so good, you feel so good," he groaned, moving to your other breast, your fingers digging into his back. "off, take it off." you whined as you pulled at his shirt, an amused look appearing on his face. "take it off." he lied back his hand resting on your hips. you moved your hips against him, not wanting the feeling of friction to leave your body, then slowly removed his shirt, tossing it beside you. he looked at you, biting his lip as he took in your beauty, his fingers digging in your flesh.

you placed your hands all over his chest, not being able to stop and then you removed yourself from him, a wince leaving his lips as if he was sad that he couldn't feel your tightness anymore. toji instantly grins when he watches you get on your knees, your hand rubbing your pussy to gather some of the wetness then coated his dick with it, stroking his length up and down before lowering your head and sucking slowly his tip. your tongue swriled under it, his hips slighlty jolting. you looked at him as he played with your hair, gently pushing you down as you began sucking him, your free hand fondling his balls teasingly, earning a few whimpers from him. it turned you on. seeing how a buff strong man like him could be shaking and heavily breathing because of your touch.

"you're doing so good, sucking me so good," he hummed throwing his head back, his hips thrusting upwards to feel more of your throat. you began sucking him faster, urging to taste his cum. you kept on going until you let go of his dick, catching him off guard. he looked down at you questioningly. "can i swallow your cum?" you bit your lips, both of your hands stroking his dick at an agonizing pain. "fuck yes, c'me here," he brought your head back down, his thrusts getting more aggressive as your question turned him on, his hand keeping your head down enjoying the sound of gagging and the saliva dripping from your mouth corners. "gonna swallow every drop yeah?" you muffled, unable to say a word and felt him twitching. "oh fuck, fuck yes, mhm, shit," toji groaned, his warm cum shooting down your throat as you tried your best not to suffocate.

"you're such a good girl, such a good girl," he kept repeating as you swallowed as much cum as you could, your eyes puffy and lips swollen. you looked up at toji who was panting above you, his hand palming your cheek to bring you up and kiss you.

"get up baby c'mon," he said then picked you up so your pussy was facing his face, as if you were sitting on air. you legs were dangling from the couch as he kept you up by holding your thighs with his strong arms. "i wanna taste," he muttered and immediately starting lapping at your wet pussy, his tongue going feral on you.

you played with your breasts, desperate to hold onto anything, your mouth wide open. nothing but sounds of slurping and moans were in the room. toji began sucking on your clit, his hand spanked your ass a few times before holding you again. "toji," you whimpered, your vision becoming blurry and head heavy. "all over my face baby," he spoke against your core making you tremble, your weak efforts to bring on his face making him chuckle. it took a few more seconds to come undone, your fingers furiously gripping his hair.

"holy fuck," you chuckled as he sat you back on his lap, both of you panting as you looked at each other. you glimpsed at the clock behind you and smiled at the little coincidence, it's 2 am again.

[a-random-weeb]

Can I request ADA Yandere Dazai with a ADA fem reader?

imagine Yandere!Dazai kidnaps fem!reader cause he had enough of stalking. Acting all friendly in the ADA with her, only for reader to act oblivious to his advanced to court her. Fem!reader waking up after being drug by the Dazai, laying on an unfamiliar bed, being chain. Dazai walks in explaining all his love for her. Suprise suprise, fem reader explain he doesn't have to kidnap her and she was willing on staying for Dazai and proving her love for him

you basically just wrote the whole thing for me LMAO

But heres your summery but ✨longer✨ (Just like my di-)

Warnings: stalking, kidnapping, Yandere themes, a littllllee NSFW mentions and I think that's it

Disclaimer: this is not romanticizing Yandere stuff, this is fanfiction and is never ok in real life

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It wasn't enough anymore. No, he needed more. Sure, he loved stalking you, watching you eat, sleep, game, whatever. He needed you to notice him, his affections, his love. Every day he watches you smiling and laughing with Kyouka, playing with Nanami, and having fun with people who aren't him. Every day he desperately tries to impress you, to make a move, but you always squirm around, looking away and leaving. He wish he knew why. He couldn't take it anymore, so he did what he had to do... He had to make sure he was the center of your attention.

Your eyes slowly flutter open, glancing around the monotonous room. Sun beams pour through the window, reflecting off the plain, white walls aswell as the hardwood floor. The flickering ceiling light and the soft, blue bed you lay on seem to be the only decor in the room. You try to sit up only to realize your wrists and ankles are restrained by chains. You try to stay silent as you attempt removing the chains from your limbs, hoping to not alert any unwanted attention to whoever brought you to this place. You find your efforts to be in vain, both removing the chains and being quiet, because you here footsteps approach the room.

"Hey Belladonna~" You watch as a hooded man enters the room. You can't hold your tears in as you violently thrust against the chains, attempting to break free.

"What the hell do you want?!" You scream, your eyebrows furrowing as big, salty tears stream down your face. The panic and fear overwhelm you as the anonymous man chuckles. He removes his black hoodie, revealing his true face.

"Dazai...?" Your eyes widden. Your emotions were all over the place now, anger, betrayal, confusion, anxiety, fear, panic... Too many emotions at once... He smirks at your squirming, "Why the long face dear?" You flinch as he approaches you, kissing your tears away, "I'm not gonna hurt you!"

"Get away from me-" he quickly covers your mouth with his palm.

"Shhhh, I'll explain everything." He smirks, but his face is tinted pink. "you see, I've liked you for quite some time. Everytime I went to flirt or make a move, you would avoid eye contact and leave. I've been stalking you, so I know you haven't noticed me... It's so cute when you touch yourself, or read smutty fanfiction at 3 AM, or laugh at a cat video. I can't get enough of you, so I had to take matters into my own hands... So I drugged you and kidnapped you, it was the only logical thing to do!" You think his actions were the opposite of logical.

"Dazai... do you know why I avoid eye contact and squirm?" He raises an eyebrow, shaking his head. You sigh, "It's because I love you idiot!" Dazai's whole face turns red, "Y-you what?"

"I love you!" And like that, your both blushing messes. Dazai would've never suspected that the reason for your avoidance of him was because you liked him! He looks overjoyed as he pecks your lips.

"So if I untie you, you won't try to run?" You shake your head, "You didn't have to kidnap me or tie me up! All you had to do was confess!" Dazai eagerly unties you, pulling you to his chest.

"I love you..." he whispers.

"I love you too..." You smash your lips against his, excited to live your new life with him.

[blossomwritesthings]

𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐧

pairing: chan x fem!reader (afab)

genre: sick!fic. idol!chan. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. reader pov. established relationship.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. mild thematic elements. this one isn't as angsty as some of my other skz sick!fics. reader is sick/feeling shitty (with her period). chan is an amazing and loving bf what can i say. slighttt mention of possession from chan (but in a cute way!!). pet names (affectionately). a LOT of fluff.

word count: 3.0k

summary: it's always at the most inconvenient of times that your body decides to gift you with your period- and this time around, it's during a moment when your boyfriend chan is busy in his studio. so surely, he won't have time to spare to comfort you, right??

a/n: i've already gotten quite a few requests to do chan next in my skz x sick!fics series, so here ya'll go haha! 😂 i think jisung is next up on the sick!fic queue, but we shall see..... 🫣 also, chan is literally the reason why i continue to live some days lmao he's such a big comfort and inspiration for me and i love him a lot and just want to protect him all of the time,, he's so precious to me ugh!!! 😩❤️

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). © ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

 You knew that you shouldn’t have been interrupting your boyfriend since he had been diligently working in his office for most of the night. As soon as he arrived home from a long day at the company, he proclaimed that a spark of inspiration had hit him, and he needed to get his ideas down. 

 So, he stole away to his small studio that was just off to the side of your shared bedroom. The apartment you guys lived in was nothing special to look at, but it held a functional space where Chan could have his studio, and that’s all that mattered. Even if your bedroom was a little smaller than what you would’ve liked, you could put up with such qualms if it meant the love of your life had a comfortable space to work in. Plus, it was always nice when he chose to work from home and not at the company. Being at home with him, even if you guys were in two separate rooms, was enough to keep you more than happy and content. 

 This is why, the moment your symptoms grew to become almost unbearable, the pain shooting up from deep in your abdomen, cheeks flushing every few minutes with heat, limbs growing a little weak and fatigued, you found yourself just outside the door of Chan’s studio, knocking on the wood softly. There was a moment of silence on his end, and a bit of shuffling before you heard him usher you in. 

 As you entered the room, you were immediately soothed by the chill atmosphere that encased his studio. The dim led-lights glowed across the crown moulding of the high ceiling, casting a cool glow of blue on everything in the room. There were fuzzy blankets and silky pillows strewn across the large black leather couch that Chan had shoved into the corner of the room - the couch you two had spent much time on throughout your relationship. 

 And then your eyes flitted over to your boyfriend’s desk, which was decked out in all of the newest and greatest technology; fit with large speakers, three monitors, and a handful of keyboards that you had no clue what he used for.

 Your boyfriend was so focused on the screens in front of him that he didn’t even turn around to greet you. He was sitting up, spine-straight in his plush desk chair, leaning over one of his many keyboards and picking out certain notes on the keys. A large set of headphones was placed just beside him on the desk, which you supposed he had just taken off upon your presence. 

 “What’s up, baby girl?” He asked, voice coming out husky and low from being unused. You two hadn’t spoken since you finished dinner together, which was several hours earlier that night. 

 With a glance at the large metal-lined clock that hung close to his desk, you read that it was close to midnight. No wonder why you were so tired. It had been a busy week at work, and you had decided to lounge around the apartment all that day since it was a Saturday. Chan had been gone at work, occupied with schedules all day until he managed to get home relatively early for him - which was around eight in the evening - so he could have dinner with you before going straight back to work again in his studio. 

 Without saying anything, you trailed over to him. With gentle hands, you pried his arms away from his keyboard. You felt his eyes flutter from being trained on the computer screens to scanning down the length of your face. Silently, you moved so that you were sitting atop his lap, straddling his waist with your legs. You wrapped two arms across his broad shoulders, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. Catching his scent, which was of musky body wash and deep fern. 

 Chan let out a soft chuckle as he snaked one arm around your waist, holding you close to him as he used his other hand to get back to work. “What’s all of this about, darling?” He asked, his deep voice cascading close over your ear and sending a zap of energy to coarse through your entire body. 

 “It hurts, Chan…” You whispered, words barely heard over the catchy beat that was bleeding from the nearby speakers. 

 Your boyfriend’s entire body froze up just then, as he slowly brought you away from his neck and locked eyes with you. You saw concern dance there, darkening his pupils just slightly. “What hurts, sweetheart? Are you sick?” 

 Frantically, you shook your head. “N-No, I just… I have cramps.” You said in a meek voice. And finding it hard to hold his stare, your focus landed on the faintly glowing led lights that were strung around the room, washing your boyfriend’s skin in a kind of ocean-blue glimmer. 

 Then, you felt a few slim fingers move underneath your chin, tilting your head just slightly so that your gaze locked with Chan’s once more. “Is it that time of the month again, princess?” He rose a dark, perfectly-manicured eyebrow your way. 

 Slowly, your hands found their way into his hair, absently playing with the black curls there as you bit down on your bottom lip in a nervous habit you always did when you were feeling uncomfortable. “Y-Yeah, kinda. It started after dinner.” 

 Chan leaned into your form at your confession, pressing his mouth against yours in a tender kiss, plush lips fitting atop yours perfectly. “What can I do to help you, my love?” His voice came out gravelly as he gave you another handful of kisses. "What do you need from me right now, hmm?” 

 Never in your life had you had a man who cared so fucking much about you. And you knew that it wasn’t just out of obligation because you guys were dating. No, this man sitting right in front of you cared for you wholly and ardently because he wanted to. He took pleasure in it, and it filled him with so much happiness when he saw that you were happy. 

 “I… don’t know,” your voice trailed off into silence as your heart raced from his kisses. Chan yanked his head away from you, a tiny smirk cracking across his face at the sight of your pink-tinged cheeks. His dear kisses always did that to you- always stirred the vat of love that was hidden just beneath the surface of your veins.

 He swiped a thumb across your warm flesh, “Oh- is my baby blushing?” He laughed softly. You felt both of his hands come around your hips then, fingers squeezing at the skin that was exposed between your tank top and short shorts. 

 “No, it’s just a h-hot flash.” You mumbled in a tiny voice. But already, your face was giving you away - as a furious shade of crimson bloomed across both of your cheeks. 

 And all at once, Chan was standing up from his chair in one fluid movement, grasping onto your waist and yanking you close to him as he moved. You squealed in surprise at his sudden change in position. “Chan, what are you doing?” You asked around a hearty laugh, clutching on tightly to his shoulders as he trudged through his studio and towards the bedroom. 

 “Taking care of my girlfriend, that’s what,” he began as he neared your shared bed. He gingerly placed you down atop the downy mattress, taking a nearby woolly blanket and tucking it all around your body. “Now, you stay right here, and I’ll be back with all of the goods in no time at all.” 

 You dramatically rolled your eyes at that, “Don’t make a huge production out of it, babe. I get this every month, I'm used to it.” You called after him as he hurried to the bedroom door again. 

 Turning around to face you in the doorframe, he leveled you with a deep frown, “And you don’t make a big production out of me helping you, baby.” 

 You felt a satisfied smile erupt across your face just as he closed the door behind him. You turned onto your side, burrowing down into the blanket as your heart beat wildly. It galloped in the pit of your chest because of your boyfriend. 

 Because even though he had been so busy with work, even though he had been extremely focused and in the middle of a creative spell, he somehow managed to pull himself away from all of it to take care of you. To go out of his way and help to make you feel better. And if that wasn’t love, you didn’t know what was. 

 Sometime later, Chan was back in the bedroom, clad with a bag bursting with various items. He plopped down beside you, offering you a meek smile as he began to pull out the various things he had retrieved to… make you feel better. He plugged in the heating pad that you always used during the special time of the month, and turned it on, positioning it atop your lower stomach that was still covered in the large blanket. 

 You rifled through the bag of goods at your side, eyeing the huge bag of salty chips, a dark-chocolate bar, a box of toffee cookies, and a chilled bottle of green tea. Staring up at your boyfriend, you flashed him a cheeky grin. “All of this for me, babe? You didn’t have to… I would’ve been fine with just the chocolate.” 

 He leaned forward then, carding a few fingers through your hair gently and pushing the locks away from your face. “Of course, baby girl. Want to help you however I can…” He pressed a gentle kiss against your forehead, before yanking his lips away from your warmed skin and staring down at you with a serious expression painted across his face. “Have you taken any medicine yet? For the pain?” 

 Grabbing the hand that wasn’t currently playing in your hair, you threaded your fingers through his, marveling at the way that his large hands practically dwarfed yours in size. “Yeah, I took some as soon as I felt the pain come on.” 

 “Good girl,” your boyfriend said in a quiet tone. You pulled your attention from your intertwined fingers and noticed him staring down at you with a… peculiar look. 

 “What?” You asked, squeezing his fingers a little bit with your own. A sardonic kind of smirk widened across his lips. “Why are you smiling at me like that?” 

 “Because…” He began in a light, charming voice, “I know that you feel shitty right now, but I can’t help but think that you’re the most beautiful woman in the entire world.” Your boyfriend pressed into you then, giving your lips a tentative kiss. “And you’re all mine…” 

 You whined against his mouth, “Don’t say things like that or you’ll literally be the cause for me breaking out into ugly sobs... you know how much I can't take sentimental stuff when I'm on my period.” 

 Chan laughed deeply, giving either of your cheeks warm kisses before moving away from you slightly. “Well, we can have none of that.” He shifted on the bed so that he was lying beside you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close and into his side. 

 The heat that his body always seemed to radiate did something to your heart - soothed an ache that was throbbing deep in your bones, in your lower stomach. “What are you doing?” You tilted your head up so that you could see his face. His brows were furrowed in concentration as he turned on the flatscreen tv that was placed just in front of your bed. 

 “I’m picking out a comfort movie for us to watch.” 

 “Why? I thought you had to work to do - inspiration calling, and all of that.” 

 He stared down at you, pupils slanting just a tiny bit at your insinuation that he’d rather work at that moment than spend time with his one and only girlfriend. “Baby girl, you should know me enough by now to know that I’m never going to leave your side when you’re feeling even a little bit bad.” 

 “Is that a forever promise?” You rose an eyebrow at him. Forever promises were something that the two of you had come up with early on in your relationship. They were promises that you made each other only on occasion when you truly meant them and would do anything to keep them. It was a sweet, unique gesture that you two had started, and something deep inside of you always melted whenever Chan brought it up. 

 “Do you want it to be one?” The man looking down at you asked, a knowing light flooding into his dark-brown eyes. “Because I’m pretty sure I’ve already promised such a thing a long time ago…”

 You hit his chest playfully at that, a zap of energy running down the length of your spine at the hard muscle that your fists found there. “You’re so stupid,” you laughed, nuzzling into his side, the heat from the heating pad already beginning to soothe the aches that were radiating from deep inside of you. 

 “You never answered my question, princess.” 

 Your eyes found his against in the dim room. The only light that was switched on was a floor lamp that was shoved into a corner, near the tv. It cast a kind of ethereal glow against your boyfriend’s skin, shining against his midnight-black curly hair and darkening this sharp jawline in shadows. 

 You swallowed, once. “Okay, fine. I want that to be a forever promise.” You rolled your eyes at him, but in reality, you both knew that you weren’t annoyed to give the request in the least bit. Forever promises were reserved for very special occasions- when the two of you wanted to reiterate something. 

 And it seemed like Chan was very keen on doing so just then. 

 Placing a hand over his heart, he closed his eyes and canted his head to one side, speaking in a low, gravelly voice. “I, Bang Chan, solemnly swear with a forever promise, that from this moment onwards that I will never leave your side no matter how bad you’re feeling.” 

 It was stupid, really. The promise. 

 But still, it cast butterflies across your stomach. 

 It forced a big, idiotic grin to spread on your lips. 

 And then you were dragging Chan into you, offering him a soft kiss. “And I forever promise that I’ll do the same thing for you whenever you need it the most.” When you tore apart, he was mimicking your smile. 

 Just like that, you two settled down into the thick duvet coverlets of your bed, focusing on the comfort movie that Chan had chosen for the two of you to watch. It was some cheesy rom-com that you had already seen a dozen times, but he knew how much you loved it, and how watching it helped get your mind off of the pain that was flowing through your body. 

 Throughout the movie, your boyfriend would lean over and press fervent kisses atop your head, or squeeze your hip a little tighter with his fingers. He’d feed you the snacks that he had bought, laughing every time you let out a moan of delight from the way that the sugary and savoury foods filled your belly with both happiness and contentment. 

 And when the exhaustion began to take over your body, and your eyes started to feel heavy, you snuggled deep down into the blankets and covers, enjoying the soothing presence of your loving boyfriend right by your side. 

 With his gentle fingers playing through your locks, the movie faintly playing in the background, your tongue sweetened by the snacks, and the dim lighting throwing everything into a warm kind of glow of happiness, you were completely at peace at that moment. 

 “You tired, baby girl?” Chan asked, speaking after a long while of silence between the two of you as you focused on the movie. 

 Nodding your head slowly, a yawn escaped past your lips. “Yeah, kinda…” Your voice trailed off, as your breathing deepened somewhat, limbs growing loose from the sleep that was upon the forefront of your mind. 

 “I bet you're tired, you’ve had such a long week at work, and on top of that, you’re body’s now going through its monthly cycle,” your boyfriend said in a whisper, his tone radiating across your ears, reaching down to a part inside of you that needed to hear his soft words at that moment. “Go to sleep now, darling.” His fingers continued to message at your tender scalp, lulling you into a listless kind of state. 

 “Will you be here when I awake?” You mumbled, your face turned sideways so that your cheek was resting against his muscular chest. It rose and fell slowly with each deep breath that he took. 

 “Of course, baby. I’ll always be here when you awaken.” He replied in that rumbly voice of his, the baritone of it vibrating against your ear. Then, you felt him shift against you, pressing a warm kiss atop the crown of your messy-haired head. “I love you, always.” 

 And you fully turned onto your side then, hiding your meek smile with the fuzzy blanket that was draped across you. As you cozied up into your boyfriend, the heat that was radiating off of his body cast a magickal spell over you. 

 An ethereal, beautiful kind of sleeping spell. 

 As your eyes drooped closed, your heart slowed down, and you succumbed to the dark waves that had been lapping against the sides of your mind for so long. And soon, you were riding the clouds of dreamland, with the love of your life - the warm, strong, comforting, safe person with a warm body sitting just beside you in the quiet calm of the night. 

 Always your anchor, always your help, always your only eternal love. 

 Fin. 

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© ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

[jhuzen]

disagreements [m.reader]

regrets. lmao. here’s one before i perish. i give my thanks to that one prompt of two people liking the same person and ending up fucking it out.

𖦹 nsfw, some swearing because of scara, i call him the wanderer here ;-;, hate sex

There is no love within the wrinkled bedsheets. There is no love in the kisses that you and him shared. There is no love between the way your body moved against this abhorrent puppet that only served to make you look bad in front of him.

You held in a snarl as you felt the searing pain on your cheek as you received another smack from this… thing. Your eyes glowered in comparison to the Wanderer’s — whose eyes were glowing with absolute mirth coated in unadulterated sadism. He was a little man, but he can fight well. You knew that. You’ve fought against and with him before. He was your enemy and now he’s a comrade you’re learning to trust your life with.

“He’s never going to like you,” the puppet sneered at you with pure contempt. “Have you seen the way he’s slowly drifting away from you? It’s only a matter of time before you’re shoved in the back.”

“Big talk for someone who can barely coax Aether into a quick snack,” your growl undoubtedly sent shivers down to his spine and to admit it to you would be a social suicide. “He doesn’t even trust a vermin like you. Know your place, brat.” You spat and the Wanderer only took it in stride with a snarky laugh.

If anything, you and him looked foolish. Pathetic at best. Fighting with so much hate in each other’s eyes, and yet here you are, with your dick burrowed inside the puppet’s walls. While he took you in so easily, like a whore.

You hated him. He ruined the peace you’ve shared with the man you’ve admired for so long, interrupting you with his cacophony of chaos, ready to tear your blooming love for the traveler limb from limb. He was vile and absolutely shameless, and the loathing embers within you that laid dormant for so long sparked up into a fiery lava pit. You were right about Aether’s wariness of the Wanderer, but the fact is, you can also feel him warming up to this brat. And you were so, so weak to the idea of rejection. You hated entertaining the mere suggestion of it.

Aether was yours. He’s the man who gave you a purpose despite being a lonesome otherworldly traveler. And now some puppet from this hellscape of a world is stealing him away from you?

Your hips drew back before slamming your cock back inside him, and relished in his choked moan. You could feel his walls clenching so tightly around you, making you hiss in pleasure — he was sucking you in so good, and part of you can only hope that Aether was just as good in taking you in. But even that was just a fleeting dream until he finds his bloody sister.

“I hate you,” you murmured as your hips moved again. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you…” you never once stopped as you chanted the phrase like a mantra, your thrusts deep and slowly, like a punctuation to every declaration of hate that you made to the man underneath you.

You hated him so much. So, so much. Him and his insufferable face that can con anyone into trusting him. That’s how you almost fell for him when you met him along with your beloved Aether and that broke astrologist.

“The more you s-say it, the less I— h-hah—!” A choked sob left his lips, as you fucked the air out of his lungs, but he’s a trooper, recovering with a pleased wince when your cock hit his prostate, “F-Fuck—! The less I… b-believe it…!”

Would you look at that, he got through it.

“You better believe it,” you snarled, your hands falling to the little fat of the Wanderer’s waist, squeezing them tight. You enjoyed the way he looked absolutely ruined, more so with your hands on the supple skin of his little waist. You loved the way how it was his weakest spot the way he loved it when he could see your conflicted face when he sucked you in him so easily. “You’re the least likable person in the world.”

A scoff in between the puppet’s hiccuping moans were heard before he yanked the necklace your dearest traveler had gifted you, “And yet you’re fucking him.” The glee in his eyes was almost childish. He was quick to wrap his legs around your hips, legs pushing you further inside, “And I may be the least likable, but you’re the most forgettable.”

The Wanderer’s hips rolled up into yours, relishing in the feeling of his weeping cock brushing against your toned stomach, “You’re boring,” he noted before letting go of your necklace. He knew how much it meant to you and enjoyed the way you seemed so tense every time someone lays a hand on it.

He wants to break it.

“You’re bland and uninteresting,” his hands caressed the skin if your back. “Absolutely plain and easy to ignore,” a deep hiss left your lips as his fingernails dug into them, he wanted to leave a mark on you, be it a punch, a smack, a kick, or this.

“You’ve got nothing to offer in the table, sweet dumb thing.”

The sickening grin that he had in his lips was the last straw, your hand flying to grip his cheeks, squishing them together before you leaned down further to growl on his lips, “Quit yammering, failure. I don’t bring sand to the beach; all you’ve done is heckle Aether and whine like a child while I go and do help him.”

“And where exactly did that get you? Straggling along like a coward, fucking someone who isn’t even him.”

Your pupils dilated as the Wanderer’s words sank deeper into your mind like a knife jabbed to your sides, twisting so crudely with a poison of satisfaction from the unyielding puppet. You hated that he’s right, and even with his whorish mouth that can emit the most pornographic sounds, he still was speaking nothing but the truth. Your devotion for Aether was going nowhere just as much as his admonishing admiration for him was going up in flames. Between the both of you, none made progress.

“Is that why you’re also not in bed with him?” You fired back this time with full throttle and the Wanderer’s lips quivered as a snarky reply died on his tongue.

“W-Wh— I—”

“You’re losing just as much as I am,” your hips are slowly picking up the pace, “You can’t even get him to be comfortable around you so your next best thing is to get fucked by someone who doesn’t even fucking like you.”

“F-Fu— haaaahh~! Fuck you—!”

“Welcome to the losing side again, halfwit.”

Words were quick to dissipate in the atmosphere of lust and hatred as your hips snapped into the Wanderer’s. The sinful sounds of your skin slapping against each other reverberated in the quaint little room of some inn that you and him paid for. Cries and whimpers spilled from the Wanderer’s pretty little mouth as he felt you reach further inside him, he could feel his poor abused walls clenching against you over and over again.

He hated you but absolutely loved the way your cockhead would hit his prostate so accurately. You knew him so well in bed like he knew the insecurities you bore while you were so pathetically in love with the same man he also harbored deep affections for. A surge of pleasure waded through him and his markings glowed like before. You never once failed to make him light up like some kind of festive lamp, completely drowned in pleasure that somehow only you brought him.

The way your hands squeezed his waist so greedily got him off, knowing that you were high off your hatred and your only way to relieve yourself is to fuck him into oblivion. His eyes rolled into the back of his head when your hand moved from his waist and squeezed against base of his cock. He hated how you knew he liked being deprived of his first release, the way you knew his body more than Aether ever could.

The bed rocked as it followed your vigorous movement, and his legs around your waist are slowly growing weaker. Pleasure clouded his mind and his thoughts were becoming muddled. Suddenly, he couldn’t see the traveler’s sweet face that he envisioned to bring him that sweet bliss. His teary eyes focusing on the way sweat cascaded through your knitted eyebrows, eyes gleaming with concentration yet so utterly dulled with the numbing pleasure that you’re experiencing.

He threw a hand over his eyes as he could feel the heat stir within his stomach, his ears were ringing but your delicious grunts filled his ears nonetheless. He could slowly feel himself slipping away from the realm of existence as your hand stroked his attention-deprived cock.

“‘M close,” you grunted and he could barely answer as he let you get sloppy with your thrusts.

Your rhythm was off and your pace was getting desperate, and his body shook as you came inside him — you always came first, a claim at him being less important than you — and he could feel your hot seed flow inside him, pumping him full like the last time. You were selfish in your claims but even that he could let pass as he felt his orgasm wash over him with thick ropes of cum spurting out from his slit, cascading down your slender fingers.

The atmosphere was dead despite the high of pleasure that came by you. Soft pants left both of your lips as you stared at each other. He squirmed as you finally slid out of him, watching him clench around as your semen slowly trickled down from his spent hole.

His eyes were hazy and yours were bleary.

The Wanderer laughed before opening his arms. A cold invitation that you accepted as you flopped down into it. You had half a mind to just suffocate him when you remembered it’s not an applicable murder method.

Your head turned to his, watching the way sweat clung onto his skin and glistened under the little light the dim lamp by the bedside table provided.

“I hope you die one day on a mission,” he says, completely ruined and breathless.

“Not until you get crushed one day by a boulder.”

[starsomens]

Hi! Happy your requests are open!!! Very excited haha

This literally might just sound so simple and basic but like, I neeeeed it lmao a mix of fluff and NSFW!

Him being just TALL and a big human(I’m 5’7 so him being 6’3 and big is *chefs kiss* but also makes me very nervous haha)

tshirts so big it’s basically a dress

sweet interactions/compliments

anything with straddling/sitting in his lap, being tossed over a shoulder, being tossed around

100% creative freedom of course haha just those details pleaseeee 🥵 🖤

thank you thank you!!!! I can come off anon and DM you if you want with any questions!

Note:I HAD FUN WITH THIS ONE AAAH- If I like accidentally make it seem almost like you're way shorter than you say, I'm sorry !! And for visual reference Noah will have his long hair in here! Also very sorry this is SUPER late!

Warnings: I made this like a domestic soft smut so, soft dom Noah, penetration, dirty talk, some love bombs in there, honestly just cute whole some sex with i love yous

Your alarm blares through the quiet room where your limbs were tangled with Noah's. Your hair was in every direction, Noah's shirt that was more of a dress on you rode up to just over your bellybutton. Noah's long arm reach for the bed side and dismissed your alarm. The same hand came back to your body and brought you into a bone crushing hug.

"Mmmm" you groan with a stretch " 'm sorry..." you apologize for the interruption of your alarm. It was one of the rare days you both had off and with nothing to do but be home with one another. So of course, you both made plans for the night before but never got to them when you fell asleep so fast.

"sorry for what baby" he half yawns

"the alarm" you answer turning your body in his hold so you can face him "how did you sleep?" you asked

"Good. Didn't have you leave you early" he smiles "Come on let's get up sunshine" he pecks your forehead.

"mmmmm laattterrrrr" he comes around to your side and drags you up by the hands with a groan

"Come on princess" he kisses your nose "We can make pancakes, your favorite"

"...with strawberries?" you ask with a smile

"All the strawberries you want"

He watched as you padded your way to the bathroom with him close by. You were wearing one of his baggier shirts and he loves when you wear them. Falling just below your ass. Perfection. There was visuals when you walked, sat down and especially when you bent over. It was perfect for a spank or grab. You both brushed you teeth and took a couple of morning mirror selfies. A lil ritual Noah loved to keep alive, and afterwards it was into the shower together.

On other days this shower may have been a bit steamier. However, he wanted to soak in the slow morning with you. You get out and dress into a pair of his boxers and one of your shirts this time and off to the kitchen you went. Noah grabbed the pancake mix and you got the strawberries to cut. One of Noah's favorite things to do with you was cook. For one making a great meal and doing it together. He loved getting a mix right and seeing the spark in your eye light up from the flavor. He loved coming behind you and holding your hand in his while his head rested on your shoulder and helped you cut ingredients. His long hair picked up in a messy bun while he coaches you

"that's it baby you got it!"

"My favorite little helper" were his go to lines when you're in the kitchen together. Soon your home smelled like sweet pancakes and fresh fruits. After a nice breakfast you sat on the counter and continued your conversation from earlier

"It's like...weird that we're both here on a day. For the whole day!" you smile popping another strawberry slice into your mouth. The sweet and slight tang of the fruit flooding your mouth. While you ate away at the berries you took a look over your boyfriend. He was leaning back against the counter opposite to the one you were sat on. His tall, slender figure, his tattoos, his soft hair, and that smile. Oh how that smile did things to you. You just thought to yourself, how utterly head over heels you were for him. The sound of his laughter, his passion, his love for you, everything made your stomach do flips. You were pulled out of your thoughts when he called for you.

"Huh? What was that?" you ask

"What you thinking about huh?" he smiles coming over to slot himself between your legs and lean his hands on the counter. His face coming closer to yours. The loos strands of his bun falling to gently frame his face. You lean forward and nudge your nose against his own

"Nothing...just looking at my man" you smile as your eyes drift into his own dark brown eyes

"Your man? Well I'm looking at my woman" he answers with a peck to your lips

"My moonlight" you say with a reciprocated kiss

"My sunshine" a deep kiss, his hands coming up to rest on your hips

"My baby" you whisper as your hands land on his to run up his arm and rest behind his neck

"my princess" his whispers back against your lips. He brings your closer to the edge, holding your body to his. You could feel his heartbeat against your own, nearly becoming one as your lips lock in a passionate dance. His hand glides up your back while the other holds you close by the small of your back. His other hand cradles the back of your head to deepen the kiss, you let your head fall limp in his hold. His lips leave yours painfully slow, leaving you wanting more from him. His eyes look into your love drunken ones, not a word was said as his lips gently ghosted over your skin, gliding down to the corner of your jaw where he began to peck at your skin. You bite down on your lower lip as he stops in a particular spot that he knows you love. Your hips give a subconscious roll against his own. He lets out a muffled groan against your skin, as his hips move against yours.

"Fuck baby..." he growls "So, fucking perfect for me." he picks you up from the counter and throws you over his shoulder bringing out a squeak from you.

"Do you have to carry me like this every time we decide to have sex?" you ask. The next thing you knew a hard spank came to one of your cheeks

"Yess I do. Keep that up and you'll get mor spanks" he threatened as he made his way to the stairs. Harper watching as Noah carried you up the stairs "You see what your daddy us doing to mama Harper?" she simply just tilts her head at you

"Harper, you hold down the fort like a good girl" Noah smiles as he disappears down the hall to your shared room. He drops you down on to the bed and you bounce with a giggle. He climbs over you and faces kiss from your collarbone up to your lips. Smiling into the kiss, his hand trace down your body and to the band of the boxers you were wearing. His slender fingers fiddle their way into your bottoms. His fingers coming in touch with just skin he breaks the kiss and says

"No panties? Awh was my pretty girl expecting to get fucked?" he smiles into the kiss

"maybeee" you sang an answer. He tosses the boxers over his shoulder, falling in to the floor with the rest of your clothes. Long forgotten as your bodies tangle with one another. His lips leaving mark in their wake along your skin, like a brush upon a canvas. His fingers curled within your squirming form. The sounds of your wet pussy like music to his ears. His slender fingers were the perfect length and width to find that magic spot.

“Yea Princess you like it there?” He asks into your ear as he pumped his digits just a bit faster with more force. Your legs begin to shake as your back arches off of the mattress. As he continues to pumps his fingers he positions himself between your legs.

He removed his digits, a stringy trail of your juices connect you both. A whine leaves your lips from him stopping

“Don’t worry princess” he said rubbing the head of his dick along your slit, using your juices as lubricant “I’m gonna fuck you just the way you like” he smirks as he finally pushes into you, bottoming out in one swift motion. Your wetness making it more than easy for him to glide right in. You sigh and be groans from the feeling.

His dick filled you perfectly, molded just for you. The thickness gave you a strange full feeling, you could cum just from him putting it in. He could feel you pulse around him, trying to milk his cock without any action

“Fuck baby….who’s pussy is this? Fucking right and wet…so fucking good” he growls as his hands come to the back of your knees, spreading your legs wider for his view

“Your Noah…please noah I need it..” you whine rocking your hips, getting only an inch of what you really want. Aligning himself he pushes the head in and slowly eases in, agonizingly slow. He finally bottoms out, he stayed there for just a moment. Taking in the feeling of your walls wrapped around him, the way your chest rose and fell. His hands trail up from your hips to your rib cage to your breasts, leaving goosebumps behind. His thumb rub over your nipples, making them erect. His hands gave them a squeeze as he brings himself out nearly all the way and thrusts back in.

"god baby...feel so good." he whispers as he steadily thrusts in and out of you. "does it feel good princess?" he asked

"So good! Please Noah harder !" you nearly beg him. He comes down close to you and engulfs your body with his own. You arms wrap about his shoulders as his thrusts grow faster and harder

"Yes Noah! R-right there! Mmm please!" you pant, your nails clawing at his back, grasping for something as the pit of your stomach burned with your approaching orgasm. The build up from before becoming greater

"Fuck Y/N! I love you!" he growls bucking into you in shorter harder thrusts reaching his end as your clamp around him

"I-I love you! Ah!" you moan feeling your core tighten and tighten until it finally snaps. You clamp and pulse around him as you finally cum

"Mmm yes baby Yes! shit...cum on my dick fuck!" he groans as he pumps himself faster, your cum mixing together as he fucks his cum deeply into you "Damn it, I fucking love you..." he pants as he litters kisses all over your skin "i love you, i love you....fuck I love you so much" he whispers as he rests his forehead on yours.

His tired eyes staring into your own. Both half lidded, dazed and full of love. Your skin hot and sweaty against one another, but it was the best feeling in the world.

You arms link around his neck and you bring your lips to his. In a slow, deep kiss. It wasn't just the sex talking you truly love him so much

"I love you Noah" you kiss his head as he lays on your chest, cuddling in close for a post sex nap. He laid and listen to your heart beat, and your breathing lulled him sleep instantly. This was absolute, bliss.

「✨Taglist✨」 @lilhobgobbler @cncohshit @vir-tual @tdopomymind @concretenoah @misspygmypie @noah-seb-omens

[angelpuns]

Also some design updates for these guys, we'll see if they stick!

Leo has a jacket instead of a scarf now ( due to some stuff I added to the doc and realized his design needed an update to reflect the changes) he also has two stripes and a bit of a different head shape. also longer pants. I'm trying a new eye design too, but I've tried it before and get tired of it easily so we'll see how long that lasts!

Mikey is more round. That's p much it cause he was perfect from the get-go LMAO l. Also made him even younger to better reflect mine and my youngest sibling's own age gap ( which is actually 8 years, but I couldn't make it that big or they would be the teenage mutant ninja turtles anymore ).

Donnie finally got a gov. Designated turtle species!!! I ended up going with Southern Painted turtle so he and Leo kinda match!! He also got a snoot!! And became a noodle :)

Raph is almost exactly the same except more square, with shorter mask tails.

I've simplified all their limbs to match their hands too, plus I like this look better overall. I've been thinking about changing Leo's mask tails to look more like styled hair, but I really really like him with the long flowing ones, so we'll just have to see :)

I've added so much to the Google doc that I an risking getting way too excited for it and not finishing other stuff, but thankfully writing it down here means I will have to be held accountable and that I'll have to finish stuff!! Plus I'm sure everyone wants to know what happens at the end of the Kid Leo au ;)

[ohbo-ohno]

Ghoap: Cabin + Something isn’t right about (setting). Something is off.

1k game here - no more please!

so sorry, i have no idea if you meant ghost x soap or ghoap x reader lmao but i did ghost x soap cause it's the first thing i had an idea for!

3.8k of a little red riding hood au featuring hunter ghost turning the tables on werewolf soap. noncon physical punishment and smut below the cut! also i put this one on ao3

Something's gone wrong with Price's cabin.

Ghost can tell something isn't quite right as he steps past the little wooden gate, the air still and silent around him. Not a bird or a buck in sight - the forest is unnaturally mute.

Ghost doesn't walk up the path yet. He stands as still as the forest, watching for any hint of movement beneath his red mask.

There's nothing.

He moves slowly towards Price's cabin, footsteps silent even against gravel. Still, nothing moves.

The door is cracked open. Not enough for him to see inside, but enough for him to know that something must be truly wrong. Price has long since spelled his property so that it can only be found by those who want to find it. It should be impossible for anyone unwanted to stumble by.

Unless they're somehow immune to magic.

Ghost draws his gun, quickly checking to make sure his silver bullets are loaded. He pushes the door open, grateful for the oiled joints as it's silent.

The cabin is trashed. Price seems to be unharmed - he's resting on his bed, a large bruise painting one side of his face but his chest rising and falling steadily. All of his furniture is destroyed, though, and his carpet is shredded.

The wolf is in the kitchen.

It's a big fella, dark brown fur and a few scars decorating it's sides and haunches. It's snuffling through a cupboard, probably looking for food that doesn't exist. Price hasn't kept up the facade of eating in decades, so it's not going to find anything.

Sure enough, the wolf ducks out of the cabinet a moment later, empty-handed. It sneezes, makes an unhappy noise in his throat, then spots Ghost.

It's younger than Ghost originally assumed. Not a pup, by any means, but it's limbs are a bit lanky, it's fur is far thicker around the neck than he'd thought, and the teeth it bares in a snarl are pearly white, not stained from years of eating raw carcasses without a way to brush.

It's growl is loud, but surprisingly unintimidating. It doesn't even make to lunge for Ghost, just settles back on it's haunches and lets it's fur stick up, making it look bigger than it really is.

It almost seems like it's not worth it to kill the beast.

But still, Ghost has been hunting the supernatural under Price's command for a long time. If he was a betting man, he'd say this wolf is the one who's been causing disturbances in Price's wards for the last few months.

"You feral?" He asks, leveling his gun at the dog's head. Not much you can do with a feral wolf but put them down, but if the thing still has it's sanity than Ghost can try and talk some sense into it. Put it in it's place a bit.

The wolf's growl tapers off, and a moment later there's a naked man standing in front of him.

He's definitely young, like Ghost expected, but still grown. His shoulders are broad and he stands tall, his muscular frame filling up the kitchen. His scars carry over between forms, scattered across his body. His hair - a fucking mohawk - matches the pair of ears on either side of his head, dark brown.

He's a pretty thing, for a wolf. Big blue eyes framed by dark lashes, plump pink lips, a nose with a little bump in the middle to give it some personality. He'd be cute if he didn't look so scruffy.

"You know where you are, kid?" Ghost grunts, keeping his gun pointed between the wolf's eyes.

He doesn't look too happy, but he answers. "Yeah, 'course. Figured a witch might have some half decent food." He kicks the cabinet with a little pout. "Guessed wrong."

Ghost almost snorts at that, letting his gun fall and holstering it. Idiot kid.

He takes another moment to scan his body. He's quite attractive, with tanned skin and toned muscle. His cock hangs soft between his thighs, thick but not all that long with a dark trail of hair leading down to it. He's got thick thighs and a light dusting of hair across his entire body. There's an extra limb in his shadow that Ghost can tell is a tail, but it's drooping low. Not quite tucked, but close.

A bit of interest sparks in the back of Ghost's mind. It's been a while since he's played with a wolf, .

"Do you know who's house you've just trashed?" He asks, adopting an authoritative tone.

The kid tenses a bit, but doesn't break eye contact with Ghost when he shakes his head.

Ghost gestures over his shoulder to Price's prone form. "That witch you knocked out? That's John Price."

That gets his breath hitching a bit, eyes flickering from Ghost to Price and back again. Ghost can smell the hint of fear in the air, relishes in the slightly widened eyes.

He gets himself under control quickly, stands up a little straighter and plays and being unbothered.

"That make you The Ghost?"

His tone is steady, unwavering. Good for him. The stench of fear doesn't waver, though.

Ghost nods once, lets a bit of his own power shine in his eyes through the mask.

The pup mimics his nod, then rolls his shoulders back, like he's come to a decision. "I don't want any trouble."

"That so?" Ghost asks softly, menace creeping into his tone.

"Yeah. Didn't mean any harm, comin' here. Just wanted something to eat."

"Hmm," Ghost hums, taking a few steps forward. "And knocking out Price, trashing the room, all of that was necessary?"

The wolf scowls, shifting back on his feet. "He's a rude bastard."

Ghost almost snorts at that. "So am I. You gonna pull the same shit with me, pup?"

The man snarls a little, finally taking a little step back and planting his feet again. "Don't call me that. I'm not a pup."

"No?" Ghost coos a bit, stepping so that he's only a few feet away, blocking the only way out of the cabin. "You don't seem to know how to solve your problems like a man. You wolves are good hunters, couldn't kill even one doe to keep yourself fed, puppy?"

It's never good to imply a wolf is weak or unable to take care of themselves, but Ghost knows this man couldn't hurt him, and it's fun to see him riled up. His shoulders rise up like he's trying to make himself seem bigger now that their height difference is more noticeable, and his teeth are fully bared.

"Fuck you," he snarls. "Your boss is the one chasing all the animals away! Some of us have got to fucking eat, it's only right Price goes hungry for once."

He's a bit of an ornery thing, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring up at Ghost like he's being victimized. His ears lay flat on his head.

"Not how this works, puppy," Ghost shakes his head, stepping around the counter. He purposefully leaves a space open beside him, hoping the wolf will try and make a run for it. "These are Price's woods. If he wants to kill every fucking animal in them, he can. You don't like it, leave."

He snarls, head whipping side to side a bit like he'd like to lash out. He takes a step forward, glaring up at Ghost. "Oh yeah? Think it's that easy, jackass? I can't just find another fucking pack to join!"

Ghost tilts his head. "Let me guess, they don't want a pup who can't even carry his own weight?"

The scent of fear has disappeared, leaving just anger and stress in its wake. The boy's cheeks flush a lovely red, and his ears shift to stick straight in the air, pointing forward.

He's so close to snapping. Ghost licks his lips in anticipation, eager to see if fight or flight will win out. 

The poor pup is stressed out of his mind, that much is clear. Even with his muscle he’s clearly been going hungry, and he can’t seem to decide what the right course of action is with Ghost antagonizing him like this.

Honestly, Ghost would usually let someone like him go without much fuss. Times are tough, and Price is has been weirdly stingy with the wildlife in the last decade or so. He should probably talk to him about it, but Kyle's always been better at getting what he wants out of the old grouch.

If this werewolf weren't such an amusement, he'd already be on his way. It's his own fault Ghost isn't going to let him go that easily.

"You fuckin' bastard! All you witchy-types are the same, you don't get how fuckin' miserable you make everyone else in the woods!"

Ghost pauses at that, a little shocked the pup assumes he's a witch. He's not, but he's also not offended. He's not going to dissuade him of the notion, either.

"An adult would learn to deal with it," Ghost taunts, leaning his torso closer. The wolf inches to the side, eyes darting to the front door. "But you're just a dumb pup, aren't you? Can't even figure out how to take care of yourself. Should I call your mum? See if she can sort you out?"

For some reason, that dig seems to be a step too far. The wolf's growl is loud as he lunges towards Ghost, feinting away at the last second and darting towards the door. He's on four legs before he hits the porch.

A smile stretches over Ghost's lips, and he cracks his neck as he strolls to the door. From his bag, he pulls out a collar and leash - Price's never-ending enchantment comes in handy once again. The wolf is slower than he'd expected and he seems to be favoring his back right paw. He'll be an easier prey to catch than Ghost had hoped.

Oh, well. There's always next time.

It takes very little effort to pin the pup to the ground. In only a few blinks, Ghost's on top of him, using his weight and momentum to send them both to the dirt and rolling until he's pinning the dog to the ground.

He gets one hand around the wolf's neck, forcing his head down while he gets the collar hooked around his neck. He spits and yowls like he's being tortured, but can't do much to fight with Ghost's entire body-weight over him.

It's easy to shift his hand to the tender spot between neck and shoulder, fingers searching, searching, searching.... there. With a cruel press, and a magical pop, there's a writhing boy beneath him instead of a wolf.

A forced change is never easy on a shifter, the wolf's face reflects that. His eyes are pinched shut, lips pushed out in a pout as his body squirms against the pain, small whines eeking from his lips.

"Quiet," Ghost rumbles, ruffling an ear. "It's gonna get a lot worse for you, puppy."

The collar fits him nicely in his human form - not so tight to choke him, not so loose it feels like a necklace. Ghost tugs the leash up to keep his head in the air as he forces the wolf to his feet, dragging him over to Price's fence while he's still reeling from the pain.

He forces the boy to bend over the fence, tying the rope around one of the fence posts with a knot complicated enough that no wiggly puppy fingers will be getting it undone anytime soon.

He's just pushing himself up as Ghost steps back, snarling as he tries to turn around. Ghost whistles sharply, making him freeze mid-turn.

"Stay." He commands, voice stern.

That sets the pup off more, and he tugs at the collar and leash as he turns and presses his back to the wood. "I'm not a fucking dog! Untie me you fuckin' asshole, this is bullshit-"

"Turn around," Ghost raises his voice to be heard over all the bitching. "Or I'll whip your front. That how you want this to play out?" He undoes his belt as he speaks, making it clear what's going to happen next.

The boy's face flames, and his struggles become more desperate. He doesn't shift - he won't be able to for at least another hour, but he doesn't even seem to be trying to.

"You think I'm just gonna stand here and let you whip me, you goddamn bastard? Fuck you! You're not gonna do shit to me, you bawbag, I'll-"

He's cut off, again, when Ghost whips his front. One long strike across his middle, horizontal. He yelps loudly, skittering back as much as he can. Ghost raises an unimpressed eyebrow.

"Odds are, a whipping to your front will injure you. Then we'll have to split this into two parts. That what you want? You turn around now, we get this over with in one session."

The boy's chest is heaving, and the stench of fear returns.

"You can't- why are you even doing this?"

Ghost tilts his head and adopts a condescending tone. "You're clearly not mature enough to handle an adult conversation. I think the only thing that'll get through your head is pain, puppy. Now turn around."

The real reason is that Ghost wants to paint the man black and blue then fuck him while he's screaming. A face that pretty is meant to be dripping in tears, and Ghost can't wait to make it happen.

The wolf takes a stabilizing breath, then turns. Wolves are a physical species, it's not unlikely he's been punished with pain at some point before. His alpha probably gave him a few of the scars decorating his back.

Ghost doesn't waste any time. He steps far enough away to cause real pain with each strike, but not so far that he can't appreciate the way the man's muscular back lights up red.

He doesn't make the wolf count, as much as he'd like to hear him struggle. Something tells him that might be the wolf's last straw, and Ghost doesn't particularly feel like dealing with a wolf gone half-feral from rage right now. He'd rather break the man down to tears of pain, not anger.

They're both silent throughout the punishment. The wolf manages to keep a shocking amount of composure considering how heavy handed Ghost is, but he's clearly struggling. His breaths are audible even from several feet away, and sweat drips down his back to make the strikes gleam in the sunlight.

He lasts about ten minutes under Ghost's belt before he whimpers for the first time.

"There ya go," Ghost hums when he hears it, snapping the belt across an already forming welt to hear the noise again. "Starting to sink in now, pup?"

He doesn't get a response, but that's alright. Ghost knows he's almost got the boy at his breaking point.

It comes about five minutes later, when a strike to his ass wraps low enough to glance off his balls. The wolf falls forward with a loud cry, limp and shaking against the fence.

Ghost finds himself nearly purring as he drops his belt to the ground, quickly moving to ease the man into the dirt. He's shivering in Ghost's arms, face pinched in pain.

"Took your punishment well, pup," Ghost praises, stroking a hand over the man's ribs. "Good boy."

"Jo-" the man grunts, pushing up to his elbows and knees. "Johnny, not pup."

"Johnny?" Ghost hums, leaning back to kneel behind the man. "Hm. Fits you. I think I like pup better, though."

It's a testament to how far gone he is that Johnny only whines instead of arguing.

"Hush. Your punishment's almost done. Just gotta take your fucking, and then we can all move on."

Johnny's head jerks up at that, looking over his shoulder as best he can. "Wait, what-?"

Ghost doesn't stretch him much. He keeps one hand beneath Johnny's body to keep his head tugged back down by the leash, and uses his others to stuff a few fingers into his hole.

He only gives him a bit of spit - he doubts Johnny is clean enough for him to lick. He lets it dribble from his lips and into the little hole, then begins stretching him.

It must sting something terrible, with the way that Johnny squirms. He's forced to keep his head against the ground, left pinned by just a leash.

"No, no, you can't-"

"Clearly I can," Ghost says meanly, shoving in a third finger just because he can. Johnny's a werewolf, he'll be perfectly fine in an hour or two. The pain is the point of the lesson.

"I don't want- stop, please dont... please, you can't..."

"You're not supposed to want it," Ghost says, letting his voice dip into a more comforting tone. "Punishment isn't meant to feel good for naughty pups. You just lay there and take it."

He spits into his palm when he pulls his fingers out, slicking up his cock as much as he can. It'll be a pain in his ass if Johnny tears, so he lubes himself up just enough to avoid that.

Johnny's squirming gets more vigorous when he feels Ghost line his cock up at his entrance, and he nearly manages to pull away.

Ghost growls at that, yanking the leash down far enough to grab and squeeze Johnny's heavy balls. "You keep up your wigglin' and I tie you leash to these. That what you want?"

He whines, shaking his head no. "No, sorry, I won't... I'll stop moving but please, please, you can't fuck me."

Ghost rolls his eyes and chooses to ignore that, instead sliding into the pup's warmth.

He feels good. Tight and hot and squeezing around the intrusion. He nearly wails beneath Ghost, body going limp at the pain. Ghost uses his free hand to turn Johnny's face to the side, so he can see the inevitable tears.

Sure enough, the waterworks start as Ghost finally bottoms out. He moans in sync with Johnny - one from pleasure and one from pain. The way the boy tightens beneath him is delicious, he's not sure he'll ever find a hole as good as this one.

He praises Johnny as he pulls out and fucks back into him.

"Good boy," he says on a moan. "Feel so fuckin' tight around me. Just wanna keep my cock deep in your guts, huh pup?"

"Nooo," Johnny hiccups, shoulders hitching.

"It's alright, you don't have to lie, Johnny. Your tight little hole's tellin' me all I need to know. Were you a virgin?" He grunts as he bottoms out again, quickly tugging out and snapping his hips back in. "Musta been, way you're grippin' me. Did I take your virginity, sweetheart?"

The hitched cries and tiny nod are enough answer for Ghost. Johnny just barely manages to tuck his hands beneath his face as Ghost starts to really work him over, free hand planted on the ground as he bullies his cock deep into Johnny.

"Might just have to keep you," he pants. "'S only right, huh? Mold you right to my cock, nothin'll ever feel like this again for you. Can't send you out into the world, hungry for somethin' you'll never find. That's what got you into this mess, isn't it?"

Johnny's not quite capable of speech anymore, just breathy little whines and moans. Ghost gives his cock a few strokes, grinning at the way Johnny's head jerks in time with the movements.

"Feel good yet, puppy? It will, don't worry. I'll teach you how good a fucking can feel, make sure you never forget. Make a space for myself right-" thrust "-here, huh puppy?"

The first time Ghost nails his prostate, it's like Johnny wakes back up. He rockets back up to his hands, back arching as he throws his head back despite the leash. He cries out loudly with his face thrown to the sky.

"Aw," Ghost breathlessly chuckles, angles himself to hit that spot on every thrust, raising his voice to be heard over Johnny's noise. "You howlin' for me, pup? Want everyone to know how good you're bein' fucked, huh?"

Johnny huffs, shakes his head like he hadn't realized what he was doing.

"No, no," Ghost rumbles, using the hand with the leash to tug Johnny's head back by resting his fist in the small of his back. Johnny is left with a beautiful arch to his neck, blinking up at the sky. "Keep goin', I wanna hear you, Johnny."

Seemingly against his own will, he does. His howls don't stop as Ghost fucks him - not when he comes from all the prostate stimulation, and not when Ghost himself paints his insides.

He lets the boy ease down to his chest again as they both pant through the aftershocks. He traces Johnny's rim with one finger, just barely slipping the tip in.

Johnny doesn't like that, whining high in his throat as he tries to jerk his hips away.

"Hush," Ghost soothes, petting the rim and forcing a second finger in, watching the rim of his hole go bloodless. "Thought you wolves liked a knot?"

That gets a sob, and finally, beautifully, Johnny shatters beneath him.

Ghost lets him cry himself out on his cock. occasionally cooing to him when his sobs get a little dramatic. He really must've been pent up with how long it takes him to come down.

He calms himself eventually, though, sobs petering off into pathetic little sniffles. That's when Ghost pulls both of his fingers and his limp dick out, rumbling low in his chest when Johnny cries out at the abscence.

"You're alright, calm down," he mutters, pushing himself back to rest on his ankles and then up to his feet, looking down at the pup.

Johnny looks good like this - naked in the dirt, sweat-slick and covered in welts, hole loose and dribbling come. He makes no effort to move and Ghost sighs loudly, nudging him with a boot.

"C'mon, pup. Your pity party's over. Time to go clean up your mess."

Johnny blinks blearily up at him, a little furrow between his brows. Ghost sighs again and ducks down, gripping him by the elbows and forcing him to his feet. He holds the man steady until he's sure he won't crumble, then grabs the leash and takes a few steps away.

"Let's go. Unless you want Price to wake up before you finish cleaning, I suggest you get a move on."

Johnny blinks dumbly at him, big wet eyes shining. Ghost's heart skips a beat.

"Come," he command, tugging until Johnny is forced to stumble forward. "Good boy. Now, heel."

Johnny - amazingly - listens without a fight, staying to the right of Ghost and one step behind.

Once there in the cabin, he's still fucked out enough to not complain. Ghost settles against the counter, sips on a cup of tea, and watches as Johnny cleans with shaky hands.

He looks good with a collar around his neck, and it's been a long few decades without any companionship.

Maybe, Ghost thinks to himself with a small smirk. It's time to get a dog.

[nikolai-alexi]

For @jegulus-microfic

Prompt: Weekend (I’m a day late, but I fell asleep at my desk writing this last night lmao)

WC: 1,250 i really tried to keep it under 1k but fjdjdnfjr here we are i once again failed the “micro” portion of this

Tags: Poly RoseStarKillerChaser (Jegulus x Rosekiller), a very strange RSKC dynamic here, James and Regulus have been together for a year-ish but James, Evan and Barty are only just beginning to navigate their own little relationship, James is quite anxious about the whole thing but he’s trying really hard, it’s very vaguely implied that Regulus, Evan and Barty have been together for a while (in what capacity? idk man I just work here), it’s all very queer platonic tbh, they’re just a big puppy pile of exhausted people and everyone uses James as a human heater like the little reptiles they are, Barty is a human wrecking ball and just constantly walks into a room and bites whoever’s nearest to him because he’s Barty and what else would he do, I have an unreasonable amount of affection for James calling Barty “bub”, Evan is adorable and touch starved and just wants a hug, Reg is a cat animagus, it’s vvv wholesome

It’s the first weekend they’ve all managed to be together since term started. Which is, objectively, insane because it’s Christmas break. Every single time they’ve tried to spend any amount of time together, someone has had something come up. Whether that’s exam prep, suspicious friends, detentions, or projects, it’s all somehow managed to ruin their plans.

And look, James gets that trying to make four schedules align all at once whilst avoiding suspicion from friends or getting caught by professors is difficult, but he is sick of it. This…thing…they have going is new. It’s tremulous and blooming and none of them really know where the lines are with each other. It makes James so incredibly nervous. He knows where he stands with Regulus, after a year together he feels mostly confident in what he’s doing with Regulus, the boundaries, the navigating, the trauma responses. But with Evan and Barty? He has no idea what the hell is happening. It makes him anxious. He wants to know how to define the lines of this strange relationship the all have. They aren’t friends, but they aren’t not friends, but they aren’t lovers, but they aren’t not lovers. It makes James’ head spin. He doesn’t like not having clear expectations.

He’s forcefully ripped out of his rather maudlin thoughts when someone audibly collides with his side, knocking the breath out of his lungs with a soft “oof” and disturbing the previously peacefully sleeping cat on his lap. Regulus, in his frankly adorable animagus form, grumbles without opening his eyes more than a tiny slit and rearranges himself before going back to sleep. The scent of cigarette smoke, whiskey, and Evan’s vanilla shampoo invades his nostrils when he tries to turn his head.

Barty is slumped unceremoniously against his side, face buried into James’ neck, one hand atop Regulus’ soft fur, and the other fisted in James’ shirt.

Then Barty bites him. Hard.

James rolls his eyes. This, he understands. Their new dynamic may only be a few months old, but Barty entering a room and biting the nearest person to him? That was old news.

“That bad, bub?” He asks quietly.

Barty doesn’t say anything, just stops biting him so he can tuck his head into James’ neck and nod. James’ free hand instinctively comes up to card through Barty’s hair like he’s seen Evan do thousands of times. Barty stiffens at the first few passes of James’ fingers, but he slowly relaxes and James can feel his low hum resonate through his own chest.

He shifts just a bit and sees Barty’s ridiculously long legs hanging off the armrest of the sofa and chuckles. Barty is just a slumped over heap of awkward limbs and exhaustion. James’ wand is in his bag across the room, but a casual flick of his wrist has it sailing towards him.

Transfiguring the sofa whilst they’re laying on on it is a bit trickier, but he’s not been the top student in transfiguration for seven years straight for nothing. He manages to get a large bed with a bit of a crooked frame beneath them after several long minutes without disturbing Reg or Barty. Both of them are fast asleep. He’s not sure when Barty drifted off, but he can feel his soft snores against his neck.

Thank Merlin for the amount of Quidditch training he does, because trying to situate Barty is a feat, but eventually, he gets Barty tucked against his right side so he’s no longer hanging precariously off the furniture. Regulus has abandoned James’ legs in favour of smushing himself in between James and Barty, the body heat thief he is.

When Evan comes barrelling through the door of the Come and Go Room an hour later with dark purple bags under his eyes and a manic sort of look, James just holds his left arm out in invitation. Evan sheds his shoes and outer robes with easy efficiency and falls onto the transfigured bed in an eerily similar fashion to Barty. Evan isn’t quite as tactile with James as Barty is yet, so he has to quickly mask his surprise when Evan tucks himself against James’ side, tucking his freezing hands under James’ shirt.

“You okay?” James asks, careful to keep his voice as quiet as possible. Regulus still opens his eyes enough to glare at him, but perks up considerably when he sees Evan and comes to curl up on James’ chest, tucking himself under Evan’s chin. James feels him purring just seconds later. Reg doesn’t pick favourites, my left arse cheek, James thinks with a wry grin.

Evan sighs softly, and his breath tickles, but he doesn’t say anything, not that James expects him to. Evan is like Regulus with his words — selective and careful. When he speaks, you stop and listen. When he doesn’t speak, you listen to what his silence says. Evan and Regulus communicate more in their quietness than they ever do with speech. It’s been something James has had to actively work very hard on to understand. He and Barty operate on a much similar frequency to each other. They’re both chaotic and loud in their own ways. Barty has a mean streak that gets him into trouble, and James has no boundaries with other people which gets him into shitty situations. They balance each other out, sorta. James attempts to keep Barty from hexing first years and Barty pushes anyone who has the audacity to look at James wrong down the stairs. It works…sometimes.

James brings his arm up and very tentatively wraps it around Evan; a silent question hanging in the air between them, to which Evan nods his acquiesce. That small gesture makes warmth bloom behind his breastbone and he knows he’s not imagining the almost inaudible huff of laughter from Evan when he no doubt hears James’ heartbeat pick up underneath his ear. He doesn’t bother to keep the grin off his face.

He wraps his arm around Evan and drapes his arm over Regulus’ back, brushing his fingers against Barty’s. He doesn’t hold Evan to him, just keeps his arm loose and relaxed, draped over him. Never pinning or holding him down. Evan’s breath comes quickly for a few, long moments, but eventually it steadies out once more. It doesn’t take long, between being tucked against James’ side, the purring cat curled under his chin, and Barty’s annoying, but comforting snores, for Evan to fall prey to the siren call of sleep too.

James remains awake a while longer. He listens to Barty snoring, feels Regulus purring and his little paws making biscuits in his sleep, breathes in the smell of vanilla and the Forest after a rain shower that perpetually clings to Evan, and feels his mind’s activity slow to a crawl. All of his anxieties take a back seat, his racing thoughts settle down, and the constant buzzing between his ears quiets. He knows they only have this weekend. Monday will come around and Regulus and Evan will have to go back to their awful families for the holidays, he will go to his parents’, and Barty will be left, alone, at school. He knows they only have three days of this together, but from where he’s laying, this doesn’t seem like a bad way to spend their time together.

He loses the battle against sleep with a sweet smile stretched across his lips. Yeah, he thinks, this isn’t a bad way to spend it at all.

[cottondo]

Hey babes! First of all, let me just say that I ADORE your writing <3333 I can tell you have a lot of passion for what you do!

If it’s alright with you, I’d like to request a Blitzø x fem! reader story. Preferably how he navigates a shy, sweet imp. I was thinking that they could have been childhood friends or something like that. Whatever you decide to do I’ll read (and love) it <3333

Thank you so much!!

aahww thank you sm lovebug🥹💞 I appreciate the kindness !

also,, really hope I got your request right?? I lowkey wasn’t exactly sure on what you wanted LMAO but I hope you like it regardless <3

Blitzo x fem! imp reader | navigate

The sound of your breath in a humid environment was all you could really focus on. Or, more so, trying to control it.

Blitzo insisted taking you on some stupid 'adventure', —if thats what he called it— and of course, it turned into a mission.

Why the hell wouldn't it! You didn't expect much less from him.

You particularly didn't care much for his mission work. Sure, okay, it seemed kinda cool sometimes- - but the,, almost double-dying part, was intimidating as fuck.

Keeping all your limbs attached to your body was really your biggest goal living down in Hell. It was easy enough to end up getting stabbed, maybe break a horn or two, or even end up in a shitty situation with some demon lords that rule rings trying to chase you down. Especially as an imp!

Maybe it was because you actually valued your death-life, and Blitz,, .. just didnt? But, regardless, you didn't wanna be here, doing this today.

A heavy hand rests on your shoulder abruptly, causing a small flinch to react from your figure.

Blitz leans in close, a crazy little smirky smile on his face. If the space between you got any smaller, you thought your oxygen levels would've been completely cut.

He managed to drag you into some hide out, a gun in his hand, army crawl position beside you in a long vent you two crawled inside of together. Shoulders harshly bumping against each other's to prover just how little space there actually was inside.

It was hot in here, and he was hotter, which only added to the uneasiness you felt in your chest.

"Don't tell me you're bitchin' out on me, y/n." He whispers to you, eyes focusing on your nerves. Blitz knew you better than just about anyone. And to be fair, he should. You two have been friends since childhood, so nothing goes unseen around him.

Your frown lightens, vision trailing to look back at him. "Nooo? I'm totally fine," you flash a cheesy smile back.

Blitzo's eyes roll, "Yea- ok, I'm teaching you combat, whether you like it or not, bitch. If youre gonna be working with us, you can't just sit around at the desk looking all cute and shit, everyday." He reminds you, "I need you to learn how to be more assertive!"

He thought you were cute? Ayee, score for you.

Your lips curl into a smirk over at him.

"As cute as I am, I can still be assertive." Now it was your turn to remind him.

It didnt look like he believed that statement. Actually, you knew he didnt.

"What happens when some dick fucker tries being an asshole to you? Pulls out a gun? One day I'm not gonna be able to get there quick enough to save your sorry ass." He frowns, some annoyance clear in his tone.

Your eyes widen, and your lips sound a gasp as you face him. "Oh my god- - is that the sound of you caring about someone other than yourself~?" You tease sarcastically, eyelids lowering casually again. Blitz turns away with a scoff.

"I didn't know that was even possible," you add onto the teasing, obviously getting some sort of rise out of him.

"Listen!" He narrows his vision. "Oka- you know damn well that I—"

His words get cut off. The sound of a door opening, and footsteps entering the room catch both of your attentions. You flinch when the door slams shut behind the figure. It was a short demon. Big horns, and an even bigger snout. He sort of looked like a dead pig. You cringe.

"Oh, fuck." Blitz smirks, raising up his gun. "This is too easy. You comin' or what?" His shoulder nudges yours. You give a dull look in reply. "Do I have a choice?"

"No, you don't." He smirks over his shoulder at you.

You follow close behind his army crawl towards the end of the vent. It wasn't far away at all, just totally felt uncomfortable being on your hands and knees in such a small space for so long.

Blitz quickly kicks out the vent door, and jumps down to the floor with his gun tightly in hand. Your eyes watch his figure as he lands perfectly in the room, alerting the demon who was on Blitz' kill list.

Damn.

It was kind of crazy how good his combat is. You know he has a lot of practice- - which does make you slightly worry from time to time about just how much trouble this job really gets him into. (And how much more it'll get you into if he continues to drag you along for the ride.)

With a small push, you slip yourself out of the vent, and land on two feet with a practiced swiftness. You've gotten enough rehearsal time to do small, crafty things, but you weren't perfect- - nothing like how Blitz was, anyway.

But at least you still looked good doing it.

The listed demon looks quickly between the both of you, Blitz ready with a crazed grin on his face while holding the gun, and you, with your knife strapped to your side, looking nothing as intimidating.

"Y/N! Grab him!" Blitz commands from you.

You hesitate for a second, "Blitz, do we really hav—"

"Cmon!" Blitz tosses his head back and groans, quickly rebounding and aiming the gun to the guys head before he got any bright ideas. "Lets dance, bitch!"

The demon, though all three of you were trapped in a very small room, does his absolute best to dodge each and every bullet. For a porky lookin dude, he was quick on his hooves. He managed to miss most if not all, bullets aimed his way.

You lunge forward, and tackle him to the ground like a tiger pouncing its prey. Blitz cheers you on, fist pumped up in the air as he watches with excitement down at you. "Thats what im talkin about, y/n! Now tie his ass up, we gotta use him as bait for the rest of them."

"The rest of them?" You glare in question.

His hand tosses you down a rope, which you had no idea where he kept it hidden all this time, but look up to Blitz anyway, as you struggled a little, straddling to keep the demon down beneath you.

Your hands desperately grab the rope, and you begin tying. Blitz insisted no helping, as this was his way of teaching you proper ways to hustle- - but you'd gladly accept it if he offered any.

First, you wrap up the struggling mans hands, then, you move down to his kicking feet. He managed to give your shoulder a good hit with his foot, but that only resulted in Blitz raising his own foot, and forcefully bringing the tip of his boot into the guys side. The demon lets out a groan.

"Damn, what the hell, asshole." You glare down at the demon who only glares back up at you through his groans. Your hands take the bandana from around his neck, and retie it around his mouth to prevent any sounds coming out of him.

"Great, now lets get the fuck out of here!" Blitz grins, picking up the hostage and throwing him over his shoulder with a small struggle. You follow along close behind, eyes checking both sides of you with some slight paranoia. It already came to the point in the day where you were very much over this job. Why the fuck couldn't you guys have just stayed in the circus business?

"Y/N! Take out those assholes up on the catwalks!" Blitz points to a few more demons that were going to be next on your list for the day.

While the two of you ran for the far exit, your eyes follow up to where Blitz was looking.

You spot them. "Got it!" Your voice beams, and pulling out your gun, you aim for the straps that kept the walk attached to the ceiling. One shot, you took the one side of the catwalks down, which results in the demons falling and tumbling down to the floor of the warehouse.

"Fuck yeah!" Blitz laughs as he uses the tied hostage as a punching bag for other demons that try to stop the two of you. He swings the hostage demon around, using him as his own personal weapon, causing some slight laughter out of you, to which both you and blitz were surprised about.

The demons you caused to fall, start charging your way. With a quick thought, you take out the knife strapped to your side, and get ready to use it. Blitz grins over at you. "Remember to aim for the neck!" He calls out from ahead of you.

Your smile brightens at the teamwork you both have. "Thanks!"

A hand reaches for you, but with a stealthy slide to the side, you duck under the arms and push the torso of a demon down to the ground.

This was getting . . oddly easy.

You hop over the demon on the floor, and smile brightly over at Blitz.

With you catching up to his side, your lips stretch into a grin as you open the door to the warehouse for him. “Did you see?” Your question was almost eager sounding. Breaking out of the shyness of the situation, you’ve actually gained a bit more combat knowledge.

Blitz grins over at you, throwing the hostage to the ground as the both of you make it out, and find a safer area to catch your breaths.

“Hell yeah bitch!” Blitz looked so happy, giddy, even. It was so freaking cute.

“I knew teaching you my way would pay off.” He crosses his arms, a soft smirk on his face.

Your face flushed lightly, the shyness beginning to take over just a bit. Your shoulders shrug upward, and the smile on your face was light. “Thanks,”

“I’m proud of you.” Blitz’s voice is quieter than his usual loud and obnoxious form, but you still catch it. Your eyes widen a bit, and staring at him in a small shock is all you could do for a second. “Really?”

Blitz looks flustered, so you decide to let any teasing go. It wasn’t often he would give real compliments. Even if he did know you long enough, to.

“Of course, fuck face.” He replies, rolling his eyes with a smile still stuck to his face.

You bump his shoulder, grinning just a little harder than before. “Learned from the best.”

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really sorry its not my best work,, just allot goin on in life rn but I still hope you liked it anyway ! <3