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cumironi · 8 days ago

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THEM AND THE NICKNAMES : GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU

sum. your boyfriends love to call you with a bunch of weird and loving nickname, especially gojo.

warning. established relationship x satosugu, fluff, crack, petname(s), nickname(s).

having two boyfriends who love calling you by nicknames is an experience on its own, especially when their approaches are completely different. geto is sweet, affectionate, and always mindful of making you feel adored, while gojo takes it as a personal challenge to come up with the most ridiculous, over-the-top, and sometimes downright embarrassing nicknames possible. it's like living in two different realities—one where you're cherished like a goddess, and another where you're being trolled by your own boyfriend.

geto’s nicknames for you are always gentle, warm, and filled with love. he calls you “darling” in that smooth, honeyed voice of his, as if the word itself was made for you. sometimes, when he’s feeling extra affectionate, he’ll go for something softer, like “sweetheart” or “my love,” murmured against your hair while he pulls you into a slow hug. in moments when he’s teasing, he’ll lean close with a smirk and call you “pretty girl” or “princess,” making your heart flutter before he kisses the top of your hand like an old-fashioned gentleman. it’s all so romantic, so tender—it makes you feel like you’re in the middle of a slow-burning love story. even when he’s joking, there’s always love in the way he speaks to you, as if every nickname is a small love letter whispered just for you.

then, there’s gojo. gojo does not believe in subtlety. he does not believe in ordinary nicknames or anything that sounds remotely normal. no, he takes it as a personal mission to make you either laugh, groan, or want to strangle him. “sugar muffin deluxe,” he announces dramatically as he throws an arm around you in public, completely unbothered by the strange looks people give. “the love of my life, the peanut butter to my jelly, the one who tolerates my nonsense.” and he says it so proudly, like he’s just declared the most romantic thing in existence. but it doesn’t stop there—oh no, he has a never-ending arsenal of nicknames. sometimes it’s “my little gremlin” when you’re grumpy, or “snack-sized menace” when you argue back. in moments when he wants to make you cringe, he’ll lean in close and whisper, “hey there, my juicy dumpling,” just to watch you shove him away in horror.

but the worst—absolutely the worst—is when he decides to call you something new in front of everyone. one time, while walking through the streets of shibuya, he suddenly shouted, “oi, snugglebug supreme! wait for me!” the heads of at least five strangers turned, and you wanted the ground to swallow you whole. geto, ever the composed one, only sighed and said, “satoru, must you always be so loud?” but there was amusement in his tone, like he had long accepted this part of gojo’s personality. gojo, on the other hand, only grinned, completely unfazed. “what? she is my snugglebug supreme,” he said, draping himself over you dramatically, ignoring the way you smacked his arm.

but despite their differences, both of them love you in their own ways. geto’s nicknames remind you of how deeply he cherishes you, of how much warmth he holds in his heart for you. gojo’s, though ridiculous, remind you that you are adored, that you are the center of his world in the loudest, most extravagant way possible. and at the end of the day, no matter how much you roll your eyes or groan in embarrassment, you wouldn’t change a thing about them.

you yawn as you step into the kitchen, the oversized fabric of geto’s shirt swallowing your frame, the sleeves hanging past your elbows as you lazily rub your eyes. it’s one of those rare, perfect weekends—no work, no missions, no stress. just the three of you in the comfort of home, basking in the peace of an afternoon where time doesn’t matter. the scent of something sweet lingers in the air, mixing with the faint bitterness of chocolate, and as you glance up, you find gojo leaning against the counter, one hand lazily popping a piece of chocolate into his mouth while geto stands at the stove, focused on whatever he’s making.

gojo’s gaze flickers to you the second you walk in, and that familiar, mischievous grin stretches across his lips. before you can even react, his long arms reach out, snagging you by the neck in a loose, lazy headlock, his chin resting against your temple as he hums in amusement. “hi, my little bird,” he coos, his voice playful, affectionate, and just a little smug as he ruffles your hair with his free hand.

you groan, half-heartedly shoving at his arm. “don’t call me that.”

“why not?” he pouts, though there’s pure amusement in his tone. “you’re tiny, you wander around the house aimlessly, and you always look like you just woke up. just like a little bird.”

geto chuckles from the stove, stirring something in a pan. “he’s not entirely wrong,” he muses, glancing at you with that soft, fond smile of his. unlike gojo, his teasing is always gentler, laced with warmth instead of pure mischief. “you did walk in here looking half-asleep.”

“that’s because i just woke up,” you grumble, trying to wiggle out of gojo’s grip, but he only tightens his hold slightly, rocking you from side to side like you’re some kind of stuffed toy.

in an effortless movement, he lifts you off the ground with one arm, your feet hanging a few inches above the kitchen floor. he grins down at you, his hands effortlessly supporting your weight, and for a moment, you can’t help but be a bit impressed by his sheer strength. your body is easily maneuvered into a comfortable position, with your head resting against his chest, and he proceeds to walk towards the living room, his steps as smooth and graceful as a dancer’s.

he carries you through the house with ease, all the while gently rocking you from side to side like a mother would a baby. his voice is just as gentle as his touch, and you can practically hear the warmth and affection in his tone. “you’re so cute when you just woke up,” gojo muses, leaning close to murmur against your ear with an audible smirk. “little bit groggy, all disheveled and sleepy. and the oversized shirt you’re wearing... adorable.”

he nuzzles his face into your hair, his breath warm against your temple, and you can feel his smile against your skin. “you’re the perfect little bundle of adorableness, you know that?”

...it’s both embarrassing and comforting at the same time, to be carried like this. the warmth of his chest is soothing, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat grounding you. the way he sways softly with each step, his movements smooth and calculated, is like a soothing lullaby. but you can’t deny the flush that rises to your cheeks, the butterflies that flutter in your stomach every time his hand tightens its grip around you.

in his arms, you both feel both vulnerable and protected at once. his hold on you is firm, secure in his arms while he lay you down to the couch along with himself that make him he lets out a quiet hum. “is that so?” you ask, still groggy and sleepy. he pulls you closer, maneuvering you until your head rests comfortably against his chest. his body is warm, firm beneath you, and he wraps his arms around you with an almost possessive gesture.

he chuckles at your question, a hint of smugness in his tone. “oh, absolutely,” he says, running his fingers through your hair, his touch gentle, affectionate. “you’re like a little sleepy doll.”

he continues to pet your hair rhythmically, his fingers sifting through the strands in a soothing motion. he leans in closer, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply like he’s savoring your scent. his grip tightens slightly around your waist, and he murmurs against your skin, his voice low and affectionate.

“you’re so small,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. “so delicate. i could hold you like this forever and never get tired.” he shifts slightly, angling your body closer to his so that you fit perfectly against him. his arms wrap tighter around you, his chest rising and falling with each slow breath. he tilts his head down, pressing his lips to the top of your head in a gentle, almost reverent kiss. “and this shirt,” he says, his voice soft and amused. “it’s practically swallowing you alive. do you even know whose it is?”

you let out a soft hum, barely lifting your head as you murmur, “it’s suguru’s,” your voice drowsy, muffled against gojo’s chest. you try to push yourself up, pressing your palms against the firm muscle beneath you, but the moment you attempt to move, his arms tighten around your waist like a steel trap.

“mm-mm,” he hums, low and lazy, his grip unyielding. his long fingers splay across your back, holding you in place with ease, as if he has no intention of ever letting you go. you groan, your forehead dropping against his shoulder in exasperation.

“satoru,” you sigh, trying again to wiggle free, but it’s useless. he only pulls you closer, effortlessly maneuvering you until you’re completely flush against him, your legs tangled with his as his lips brush against your temple in a smug kiss.

“why are you trying to escape, little bird?” he teases, his voice dripping with amusement. one of his hands slides up, threading through your hair again, his fingers scratching lightly against your scalp in a way that almost makes you melt despite your annoyance. “you’re so warm and cozy, like a little heater. why would i let go?”

“because i want to get up,” you mumble, pushing weakly against his chest.

he laughs, a deep, amused sound that resonates through his chest. he presses his face into your hair, inhaling deeply like he’s trying to imprint your scent into his lungs. “oh, but you’re so perfect like this,” he teases. “all soft and warm, pressed up against me. why would i ever let you go?” his fingers dance lazily along your spine, tracing slow, gentle circles.

“besides,” he adds, his tone turning more serious, “we don’t have anything important to do today, do we?” he presses another kiss to your temple, his lips lingering against your skin. “you’re so much cozier here,” he argues, his hand moving up to gently cradle the back of your head. “warm, soft... perfect for cuddles.”

you groan, squirming against gojo’s hold as you push yourself up from the couch, using every ounce of strength you have. his arms are strong—too strong—but you manage to lift yourself just enough to peek over the back of the couch, your eyes locking onto geto, who is still standing in the kitchen, calmly plating food like he isn’t witnessing a full-on struggle.

your fingers grip the head of the couch tightly, your knuckles turning white as you strain to keep yourself upright, putting as much distance as possible between you and gojo’s suffocating embrace. “suguru,” you call out, your voice a mix of frustration and desperation. you whine dramatically, dragging out his name before adding, “help me.”

geto barely glances up, his expression unreadable except for the slight twitch at the corner of his lips. he’s amused—you know he is—but he says nothing, simply continuing his task like your plea for help isn’t falling on deaf ears.

before you can try again, gojo moves, fast and effortless, his hands wrapping around your wrists in a firm but playful grip. “oh, no, you don’t,” he murmurs, and before you can react, he pulls—hard.

you yelp, your body losing all resistance as he drags you right back into his arms, pressing you against him once more. the sudden movement has you shrieking, a high-pitched sound of protest that only makes him laugh.

“gotcha,” he hums, his breath warm against your temple as he tucks you securely against his chest again. “nice try, little bird, but you’re not going anywhere.”

you thrash weakly, but it’s no use. his arms tighten around you like a vice, his fingers tracing slow, taunting circles against your spine.

“suguru,” you whine again, trying to turn your head towards the kitchen. this time, geto does look up, exhaling softly before shaking his head. “satoru,” he calls, voice calm but with a clear warning. “don’t suffocate her.”

gojo grins, unabashed. “but she’s so comfy to cuddle,” he protests, nuzzling his face into your neck and inhaling deeply. “and look how cute she is, squirming around like that.”

he tightens his grip, pulling you even tighter against his chest. you can feel the rumble of his gentle laughter through your body. “besides, she’s not really complaining. she’s just being dramatic.” gojo leans in, his lips pressing a light kiss to your temple. “aren’t you, little bird?” he teases, giving you a little squeeze.

it takes you a moment—several moments, actually—to finally break free from gojo’s relentless hold. he makes it as difficult as possible, arms tightening every time you try to wiggle away, his teasing laughter vibrating through his chest as he murmurs sweet, taunting little things about how you belong right there, tucked against him forever.

but after an exhausting amount of struggling, shifting, and sheer determination, you finally manage to slip out of his grasp. the second you’re free, you don’t waste a second—you bolt.

a breathless laugh escapes you as you dart toward the kitchen, your feet light against the floor as you make a beeline for geto. he barely has time to react before you crash into him, wrapping your arms securely around his waist and pressing yourself against his back.

“suguru, save me,” you breathe between chuckles, peeking out from behind him with a mischievous glint in your eyes.

geto lets out a small, knowing sigh, his body instinctively leaning into your touch as his free hand drops down to rest over yours, gently clasping your fingers. “you finally escaped, huh?” he murmurs, amusement lacing his tone.

before you can answer, you hear the all-too-familiar sound of socked feet padding toward you. you glance up just in time to see gojo rounding the corner, his expression a mix of playful frustration and faux betrayal.

“really?” he drawls, stopping just a few feet away, arms crossed over his chest as he cocks his head at you. “you’re just gonna run? after all that cuddling? after all that warmth we shared?”

you grin, tightening your grip on geto and using him as a shield. “you left me no choice,” you say dramatically, peeking at gojo from behind geto’s shoulder.

geto chuckles, shaking his head as he lifts a hand to ruffle your hair. “satoru, let her breathe,” he muses, his tone teasing but with a clear undertone of amusement.

gojo huffs, his lips twitching as if he’s holding back a smile. “she doesn’t need to breathe,” he counters. “she needs to come back here.”

you shake your head immediately, clinging to geto even tighter. “no way.”

gojo pouts playfully, his bottom lip jutting out in an exaggerated frown. “but i’m cold nowww,” he whines, taking a few exaggerated steps closer, his arms still crossed over his chest. “and you were so warm...”

geto chuckles softly at the exchange, his hand warm and steady on your head. “satoru, don’t be so needy,” he chides, his tone gentle but firm.

gojo’s frown deepens, and he takes another step closer, his fingers twitching as if he’s barely restraining himself from reaching out and grabbing you.

you ignore gojo’s exaggerated whining, tuning him out completely as your eyes drift toward the counter where geto is working. your attention shifts instantly, and your expression brightens as you catch sight of what he’s making.

“oh,” you breathe, eyes glistening with delight. “you made cookies.”

not just any cookies—strawberry cookies. soft pink dough, delicately shaped, with tiny crumbles of dried strawberries scattered on top like little specks of sweetness. they look perfect, straight out of a bakery display, and the sight alone makes your stomach grumble.

geto hums in acknowledgment, his hand slipping from the top of your head to drape comfortably over your shoulder, pulling you in just enough that your bodies are flush together. with his other hand, he carefully sprinkles more dried strawberries over the cookie dough, working with practiced ease.

“you said you wanted some strawberry cookies, my love,” he murmurs, his voice smooth and gentle, like warm honey. he doesn’t even need to glance at you; his focus remains on the dough, but there’s a quiet fondness in the way he speaks.

you blink, momentarily caught off guard. then, realization dawns on you—you did say that. you remember mentioning it absentmindedly on the way home from work yesterday, sighing about how good strawberry cookies sounded, how you hadn’t had them in a while. it was just a passing comment, something small and fleeting, not something you expected anyone to actually remember.

but geto did.

your chest feels warm, an unmistakable swell of love rising in you as you tilt your head up to look at him. his expression remains calm, focused, but there’s an undeniable softness there, the kind that only appears when he’s with you.

that’s the thing about geto—he remembers everything. even the smallest, most trivial things. if it matters to you, it matters to him. and he’ll always find a way to make it come true, no matter how simple or insignificant it might seem.

a smile tugs at your lips, gentle and affectionate. “you’re too good to me, sugu,” you murmur, shifting slightly so you can press a small kiss to his shoulder in silent gratitude.

geto’s eyes crinkle at the corners, a hint of a pleased smirk tugging at the edge of his lips. he’s proud, you can tell, and rightfully so—he’s always been the reliable one, the thoughtful one, the one who remembers the little things. it’s as if he has an entire mental archive dedicated solely to you—your likes, dislikes, dreams, and desires tucked neatly away in his mind.

he finishes sprinkling the dried berries over the cookies, his hand moving with a graceful efficiency that comes from years of practice. once he's satisfied, he carefully places the tray in the oven, setting a timer before turning to face you fully.

he leans back against the kitchen counter, his arms folding comfortably across his chest as he looks at you with a soft, knowing smile. the sunlight filtering into the room hits his skin just right, casting a warm glow that highlights the sharp contours of his face.

geto’s eyes linger on you for a moment, taking you in with quiet reverence, as if he’s committing every little detail of your expression to memory. he always looks at you like that—like you’re the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

before you could even muster a response, gojo’s hands suddenly cup your face, his long fingers spreading across your cheeks, his grip firm but not forceful. you barely have time to react before he attacks—pressing loud, exaggerated kisses all over your face with relentless enthusiasm.

“my little mochi puff! my sugarplum dumpling! my sweet, squishy love bun!” he coos between kisses, his voice high-pitched and dramatic. each ridiculous nickname is punctuated by another smothering peck, his lips landing on your forehead, your nose, your cheeks—anywhere he can reach.

you burst into laughter, your body shaking with giggles as you try to squirm away. “satoru—!” you try to protest, but your words are lost between your breathless laughter and his nonstop affection. your hands push at his chest, weakly attempting to escape, but he’s holding your face so firmly in place, his thumbs rubbing gentle circles against your skin even as he showers you in relentless kisses.

“my tiny, precious baby bean! my little dumpling cloud! my fluffiest marshmallow!” he continues dramatically, his voice full of exaggerated adoration as if he’s declaring his love to the entire universe.

geto, still leaning against the counter, watches with an amused smirk, his arms crossed over his chest. “you’re gonna suffocate her, satoru.”

“go out in the best way possible,” gojo replies instantly before blowing an obnoxiously loud raspberry against your cheek, making you yelp.

“i swear to—” you try again, but another flood of kisses silences you.

you can barely breathe between your laughter, your face burning both from embarrassment and the sheer overwhelming affection. “satoru, let me go, you menace!” you wail, half-heartedly slapping at his arms, but he only grins wider, completely unbothered.

“never! my little pudding pop, my baby chick, my—”

you shriek when he presses an especially dramatic kiss to your jaw, and in your desperation, you reach out blindly—grabbing onto geto’s shirt, seeking rescue, tighten your arms around his waist.

geto hums, finally taking pity on you, and with a smooth motion, he reaches out and tugs you away from gojo’s grasp, pulling you firmly against his chest. “alright, alright, let her breathe,” he chides, his voice warm with amusement as he shields you from gojo’s relentless attack.

gojo finally relents, pulling back with a dramatic sigh and an exaggerated pout on his lips. “you’re no fun, sugu,” he complains, his hands dropping from your face to cross over his chest. “i was just showing my love and appreciation for our little mochi puff.”

geto rolls his eyes, one arm circling around your waist to keep you firmly against him. “you were smothering her, satoru,” he replies, his voice level but with a hint of warning. “let the poor girl breathe for once.”

gojo huffs, his pout deepening as he gives geto a sideways glance. “but i have so many adorable nicknames for her,” he whines, his tone almost petulant.

geto snorts, his arm tightening around you as he pulls you a little closer. “you can call her all your ridiculous nicknames later,” he replies. “after you let her breathe and let her function without being completely overwhelmed by your clinginess.”

gojo grumbles, and you can practically see the wheels in his head spinning as he contemplates arguing further. you just chuckle, glancing up at gojo but saying nothing, your arms still wrapped securely around geto as you rest your head against his chest. the warmth of his body, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat—it’s all too comfortable to let go of just yet.

gojo rolls his eyes, huffing dramatically. “you both suck,” he grumbles, crossing his arms before turning on his heel. “i’m taking a shower,” he announces, his voice carrying that signature dramatic flair, as if he’s deeply wounded by your choice to cling to geto instead of indulging him.

without another word, he disappears down the hallway towards the bedroom, muttering something under his breath that you’re sure is just more complaints about how unfairly he’s being treated. you shake your head, a small, amused smile tugging at your lips before tilting your head up, resting your chin on geto’s chest as you peer up at him.

geto chuckles quietly at gojo’s exit, shaking his head in fond exasperation. he looks down at you, his eyes softening as he meets your gaze. “you know, one of these days, he’s gonna sulk so much he actually disappears,” he murmurs in a low voice, the corner of his lips twitching slightly.

his hand moves from your waist, gliding up your side until he’s gently cupping your cheek. his thumb brushes across your skin in a tender, almost absentminded gesture, yet the tenderness in his touch is unmistakable.

geto leans back against the counter, adjusting his stance so your body slots more comfortably against his. you can tell he’s enjoying having you in his arms, his fingers continuing to trace light patterns along your skin, his touch both soothing and possessive.

“how are you feeling?” he asks, his voice low and quiet, just for you. his eyes search your face, studying your expression, looking for any signs of discomfort or exhaustion. he’s always been protective of you, especially when gojo gets a bit too... enthusiastic.

he’s always been the calm to gojo’s chaos. the stability to his fire. like a grounding force, always there, always steady, always ready to catch you when you fall. “you holding up alright?” he murmurs, his voice a soft whisper between you two. “not overwhelmed by his nonsense yet?”

you chuckle, nodding your head with a small pout. “mm-hmm,” you hum, pretending to be oh-so-exhausted from gojo’s antics. “so overwhelmed,” you add, voice laced with fake weariness.

geto snorts, his fingers continuing to trace slow, soothing patterns along your back. but there’s a knowing glint in his eyes, the tiniest smirk tugging at his lips. because he knows you—knows exactly what you’re doing.

you nuzzle into his chest for extra effect, milking his protectiveness for all it’s worth. and geto? well, he plays right into it. his arms tighten around you just a little more, his chin resting lightly atop your head as he hums.

geto lets out a low, amused huff, and you can practically feel the eyeroll in it. he’s caught on to your little act, obviously—but he goes along with it anyway because he knows exactly how much you crave his attention and protection. his fingers dance up your spine, a touch that’s both gentle and possessive. “poor thing,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rumble against your ear. “let me guess, you’re absolutely drained after satoru’s...overwhelming affection?”

you continue to pout, nodding your head without another word, your eyes wide and pleading as you look up at him—puppy eyes in full effect.

geto hums, exhaling softly through his nose, and you catch the briefest flicker of amusement in his gaze. he knows exactly what you're doing, sees right through your act, but he doesn’t call you out on it. instead, he indulges you, the way he always does.

“poor thing,” he murmurs, his fingers skimming lightly over your waist, his touch slow, deliberate. “so exhausted from satoru’s endless energy... how terrible.”

before you can respond, he leans down, and suddenly, soft warmth presses against your skin—his lips ghosting over your forehead in a delicate kiss.

where gojo had been chaotic and eager, peppering your face with exaggerated, messy kisses, geto is the complete opposite. his touch is unhurried, like he’s savoring every second, every little reaction you give him. his lips trail down to your temple, brushing feather-light against your skin before moving lower, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“my pretty girl,” he murmurs, barely pulling away before pressing another kiss—this time, to the other cheek. “my sweetheart.”

his voice is a gentle lull, warmth curling through your chest with every whispered endearment. his kisses are slow, deliberate, placed with care, like he’s mapping out every inch of your face. he brushes his lips over the tip of your nose, down to your jaw, then back up again, lingering at your temple as his arms tighten around you.

“my love,” he breathes, the words melting against your skin, filled with nothing but devotion.

then another kiss, softer this time, right at the corner of your lips. “my darling,” he whispers, his voice thick with affection. “my sweet little thing.”

his lips move again, grazing just beneath your ear. “my baby,” he hums, his voice almost teasing as he presses another kiss to your jaw. “my angel.”

your fingers clutch at the fabric of his shirt, your body relaxing completely against him as you let out a soft, content sigh. your pout is long gone now, replaced by something quieter, something warmer.

“you like this, don’t you?” geto teases, his voice low, affectionate.

you hum softly in response, not bothering to deny it, your lips curving into a small smile as you nuzzle closer into him. his scent, his warmth, the way he holds you—it’s enough to make you forget about everything else.

geto chuckles, pressing one final, lingering kiss to the top of your head before resting his chin there. “satoru’s gonna be so jealous,” he muses, his tone light, amused. “but that’s not my problem, is it?”

and you can’t help but laugh, your arms tightening around him, fully content in the safety of his embrace.

geto holds you against him, his chin resting on top of your head. you can feel the steady rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, the rhythmic thump of his heartbeat against your ear. the atmosphere is calm now, the playful energy from gojo’s antics replaced by a more soothing, comfortable silence.

geto’s hand continues to trail lightly along your back, his touch both affectionate and possessive. his words are soft, murmured against your hair as he speaks.

“my little attention seeker,” he chuckles, the words tinged with affectionate teasing. you huff, playfully swatting his arm as you glare up at him. “i am not an attention seeker,” you grumble, even though you both know the truth. you’re absolutely an attention seeker—at least when it comes to your boyfriends. but admitting it? never.

geto only chuckles, the sound low and rich, his eyes gleaming with amusement as he watches you pout. his hand moves gently, brushing your hair back from your forehead with the same effortless care he always handles you with. then, without a word, he leans down, his lips pressing firmly against your forehead in a lingering, tender kiss.

he stays like that for a moment, his warmth seeping into your skin, before finally pulling back just enough to murmur against you, “god, i love you.”

his voice is so quiet, so full of something deep and unshakable, that your chest tightens. your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt, holding onto him a little tighter, because how could you not? how could you not cling to someone who loves you so openly, so effortlessly?

you don’t respond right away, just bury your face against his chest, your heart pounding a little harder. but geto doesn’t need you to say anything—he already knows.

geto chuckles again, the sound reverberating through his chest, rumbling against your ears. he understands your silence, understands the way your body language speaks for you. you don’t need to say the words out loud for him to know how much you love him, too.

he continues to stroke your hair, the gesture calming, soothing. his other hand drops to your hip, his grip firm, possessive, like he’s trying to keep you grounded, keep you close.

“you’re adorable,” he murmurs, his voice a soft rumble in his chest. “my adorable little attention seeker.”

as geto continues to caress your hair, his fingers gentle but firm, he begins to hum softly under his breath. the tune is one you recognize instantly—a song he always hums when he’s feeling particularly affectionate, his voice low and gentle and soothing.

he begins to sway gently, his movements almost instinctive, like he can’t help but want to hold you close, to keep you safe. his arms wrap tighter around you, pulling you flush against his chest as he continues to hum, his body a solid, steady presence for you to lean into.

you can feel the rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, the steady rhythm almost hypnotic. he continues to sway back and forth, his movements slow and deliberate. you can feel the solidity of his body, the way his muscles shift as his arms continue to hold you tight.

his hum is low, soft, his voice barely above a murmur as he continues to rock you gently. there’s a certain tenderness in his grip, the way he holds you so close, like you’re something precious, something to be protected, loved... worshipped.

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candy69gurl · 10 months ago

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PERIOD PAIN HEALER !!

PAIRING Step dad!Gojo Satoru x f!reader, Step dad!Toji Fushiguro x f!reader, Step dad!Nanami Kento x f!reader, Step dad!Geto Suguru x f!reader, Step dad!Sukuna x f!reader, Step dad!Shiu Kong x f!reader, Step dad!Hiromi Higuruma x f!reader, Step dad!Kamo Choso x f!reader [seperate]

SYNOPSIS It's understandable that the month's arrival brings with it a series of unpleasant sensations and discomfort that nobody enjoys experiencing. However, things aren't so unpleasant when you have someone to support you through this time, such as your caring stepdad, who is more than willing to assist you in any way possible..

WARNING stepcest, pre-established relationship, comfort, nipple sucking & playing, orgasm through nipple playing, bloody pussy eating, use of four arms for pleasure (sukuna), cock warming, p in bloody v, fingering, use of bad nicknames (geto), clit rubbing, soft sex, clit rubbing with cock

NOTE In my experience, having an orgasm during your period reduces cramps. I wrote it while on my periods lol. I'm just a girl (with daddy issues) ... Some people may find the contents unpleasant. Simply block and move on; please do not make disparaging remarks about me or report my post; if you do, prepare to get trolled by my moots. Please read the warnings and do not do this at home (duh). Reposting cause tumblr removed it.

◈ SATORU GOJO

Gojo's eyes widen as he catches the sight of you clad in one of his oversized T-shirts, your small frame barely managing to contain its folds. You look like a lost little rabbit, shivering slightly, bouncing on your toes as you pace nervously near the bathroom door.

"Hey, hey," Gojo murmurs, brows furrowing as he takes in the sight before stepping closer. His thumb brushes lightly across your cheek, coaxing you to meet his gaze. "What's goin' on, sweetheart?"

His voice is soft, comforting - a stark contrast to his usual cockiness. You look up at him, your eyes filled with uncertainty, and he feels a pang in his chest. Something's clearly off, and he knows he needs to get to the bottom of it.

"Are you alright?" he presses gently, concern coloring his voice as he reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. The gentle pressure of his fingers seems to calm you somewhat, and you nod, averting your gaze.

"Yes...", you mumble, but it sounds more like an excuse than the truth.

He tilts your chin upward, "Don't lie to daddy," he whispers softly, searching your eyes for any hint of distress. There's a tenderness in his voice that surprises you both - unusual for the usually arrogant man. Swallowing hard, he adds, "Tell me what's wrong."

Despite yourself, you find yourself opening up, the words spilling forth: "It's just... uh... cramps, and I feel uneasy."

He kneels on his knees, lifting up your top and leaning in to kiss your vulnerable tummy before softly massaging the area. The touch is firm yet soothing, causing you to relax slightly despite the lingering pain.

"That's better, isn't it?" he remarks, a hint of warmth creeping into his voice. You nod syly not breaking eye contact with him. Gojo's expression softens, and he pulls you into a warm embrace. "Ah, I see.. That feels good.. ," he says, rubbing your back soothingly. "Don't worry about it. Let's take care of you, okay?"

As he gently leads you to your room, Gojo's mind races with ways he can help ease your discomfort. He doesn't want you to suffer, not when he could do something about it.

Once settled on the soft cushions, he slowly slides his hands up and down your abdomen, his other hand cupping one of your breast gently in his large palms. You gasp slightly at the sensation, the nipple tingling under his skilled touch. Gently, he rolls it between his thumbs and forefingers, eliciting a moan from deep within you. This causes him to smirk devilishly and lean in closer.

His warm breath caresses your chest as he whispers, "They hurt too, don't they?"

"Y-yes, a bit," you confess shyly.

His smile broadens, and without further ado, he bends his head down and captures one of your nipples in his mouth. A jolt of pleasure shoots through you as he sucks lightly, increasing the pressure gradually, making you squirm involuntarily. His other hand moves from your abdomen to massage the other breast, his thumb occasionally flicking against the engorged nub.

The sensation is uncomfortable and pleasurable simultaneously, bringing forth an array of mixed feelings within you. He lifts his head briefly, looking into your flushed face with a knowing smile. "This should help alleviate some of the discomfort, my dear. Just let go and enjoy it." He returns to his task, sucking harder on your nipple while tweaking the other, sending waves of sensation cascading through your body.

You can't help but give in to the intense feelings coursing through you, your back arching slightly as he continues his ministrations. Your breathing becomes ragged, and you grip the sheets beneath you, trying to stay grounded in reality.

You find yourself reaching climax unexpectedly, your entire body trembling under his touch. "D-daddy cumming," your lips move to form an involuntary moan, and he looks up, satisfaction written across his features.

He releases your nipple, running his thumb over your mouth before pulling you closer. His voice is velvety smooth as he murmurs, "You came just by me sucking your nipples? Guess you are really sensitive now"

With a satisfied hum, he pulls away, drawing you into his embrace. His arms wrap around your shoulders, pulling you close to his chest. "There you go," he mutters, rubbing soothing circles on your stomach as you lean into him. The rhythmic motion quickly lulls you into a sense of comfort, easing the last of your tension.

"Feeling good now?" he asks his crystalline blue eyes turning soft only for you. You nod shyly, closing your eyes momentarily, your heartbeat decreasing.

"Get some rest now, sweetheart. When you wake up, the discomfort will be gone. I'll make sure to stock up on those chocolate candies you love, kikufuku or something similar. That should help cheer you up, yeah?" He speaks into your hair, his voice low and soothing. "And remember, I'm always here for you, no matter what."

Slowly, your eyelids grow heavy, and soon enough, sleep claims you. In his arms, you drift off to dreamland, cradled by his warmth and strength. He watches over you until you're peacefully asleep, then rises from the bed with a content smile, leaving you undisturbed.

◈ TOJI FUSHIGURO

As the pangs begin, you find yourself in agony, groaning softly and clutching your lower abdomen tightly, the whole day you are in your room, you even missed dinner. Suddenly, you hear footsteps to your room, you look up to see your stepdad, Toji, walking into your room with a concerned expression on his face. "What's wrong? Tired of being a brat?" he asks, moving closer to you.

"My period started," you mumble, unable to hide the pain from your voice. "It's so sudden and painful."

Toji, raises an eyebrow in surprise before responding gruffly, "Why do ya always whine about these little things? It happens to everyone! Get over it!" He waves dismissively, leaving you feeling hurt and ignored. Your heart sinks as tears start to form in your eyes, "Don't cry now, I swear I can't tolerate ya's mood swings during these days," he observes you closely for a moment, noticing the genuine distress in your eyes.

After witnessing your pain and tears, Toji's cold exterior crumbles slightly, replaced by tenderness and guilt. Though he is annoyed by how weak and whiny you are, he can't bear to watch his little step daughter suffering. Gently, he props onto your bed, the bed jumping slightly with his weight, as he pulls you close to him, wrapping his arms around you in a comforting embrace. He starts to rub your stomach in soft, slow circles, attempting to alleviate some of the pain.

"Sorry," his voice husky with regret, "I didn't mean to be harsh. Let me make it up to you." His hand gradually moves from your stomach to your neck, his thumb gently tracing circles on your tender skin. The sensation mixes with the pressure of his touch, bringing a sense of comfort and relaxation that slowly takes over your body.

"Just close your eyes and rest," he whispers in your ear, his breath warm against your skin. "Let me take care of you." As if in a trance, you obey his instructions, allowing his words and touch to lull you into a state of calmness. His hands continue their gentle rhythm, kneading your stomach and caressing your neck, his lips occasionally brushing softly against your cheek.

As you drift off to sleep in Toji's caring embrace, you find solace in his presence and the gentle caresses that soothe your body. The tension in your muscles slowly dissipates, and eventually, exhaustion claims you. Time passes unnoticed as you both rest, your breathing deepening and evening out into peaceful slumber.

However, as night falls, your cramps return with a vengeance, waking you up from your peaceful slumber with a gasp. You wriggle uncomfortably, your hands instinctively clutching your stomach as pain courses through you. Your eyes flutter open to find Toji also awake, concern etched upon his features. He watches you intently, his own face contorted with worry as he observes your discomfort.

He repeats this motion multiple times, his tongue tracing intricate patterns across your sensitive skin, each movement accompanied by soft, reassuring whispers. His hands reach for yours, pulling them away gently from your stomach. "Shh, don't worry," he murmurs, concern evident in his voice. "I know it hurts, but we don't have any heating pads or medication here. What if I try something else?" He looks at you expectantly, a glint of determination in his eyes.

You nod hesitantly, unsure of what else could possibly help. Slowly, he shifts his position, leaning closer to you. His gaze locks onto your stomach, his expression intense as he focuses on the task at hand. Then, without warning, Toji presses his lips to your stomach, the warmth of his breath sending waves of relief throughout your tense muscles. His tongue darts out, lightly flicking at your skin, causing a shiver to race down your spine. Surprised, you let out a small moan, your body reacting to his unexpected touch.

You get caught off guard by Toji's sudden move, you let out a soft squeak as he swiftly removes your shorts and panties. Embarrassment washes over you, but his determined gaze leaves no room for protest. He glances at your blood-covered pad, a hint of curiosity in his green eyes, as if studying the sight for the first time.

Before you can recover from the shock of his actions, he holds you firmly but gently in place, his hands strong on your hips, pinning you to the bed.

"Please...don't do anything.. It's weird," you stammer, your eyes wide with surprise and embarrassment, but there's a hint of desire there too - this wasn't exactly an unwelcome sensation.

"Shhh," he hushes you, his voice rough with desire. "This might help, trust me." And with that, he lowers his head, his mouth approaching your bloody core.

As soon as his mouth touches you, the sensation is overwhelming. The warmth of his lips combined with the wet heat of his tongue sends shivers down your spine. His movements are neither tentative nor shy, rather they're hungry and bold, as if he's been waiting for this moment for a long time.

Blood colors his lips and chin as he continues to feast on you. Despite the circumstances, a strange mixture of pleasure and embarrassment fills you.

"It feels so...weird but good," you confess, biting your lip as pleasurable shivers rack your body.

Toji lifts his head, his gaze locked on yours, "Good?" he queries, his voice thick with lust. His eyes reflect a primal satisfaction that overwhelms any semblance of shame or guilt. Your response seems to ignite something within him, and he dives back in with renewed vigor, his tongue delving deeper, his hunger growing stronger. The scent of your blood mingled with your natural arousal fills the air, heightening the intensity of the experience.

With Toji's relentless attention, it doesn't take long for you to reach your climax. Your body arches involuntarily, a gasp escaping your lips as waves of pleasure crash over you. He feels it too, the tremors beneath him signaling your release. His tongue never stops its steady pace, guiding you through the peak of your ecstasy until you finally collapse back onto the bed, panting heavily.

Toji pulls away with a satisfied hum, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand before looking up at you with half-lidded eyes. "That should help the cramps," he states, a smug grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

But instead of leaving, he crawls up alongside you, pulling you into another tight embrace. "Rest now, kay?," he whispers, nuzzling your neck as he speaks. "We'll deal with anything else tomorrow."

Despite the unusual circumstances, you find comfort in his arms once again. His chest rises and falls steadily next to yours, his heartbeat a calming rhythm that lulls you back into slumber. The night stretches ahead, quiet and peaceful, with nothing but the two of you sharing the same space.

◈ NANAMI KENTO

As the door creaks open, you know right away it's Nanami stepping in. The scent of his cologne wafts towards you, signaling his arrival. You glance up from the couch and look towards the hallway, anticipating his arrival.

"Hey, honey," he greets softly, voice carrying a hint of weariness. "How are you doing?"

You give him a weak smile, trying to hide the pain you feel from your period. "Just dealing with some cramps, dad," you reply, trying to sound as casual as possible. "No big deal."

He nods, offering you a sympathetic look as he walks closer, then removes his jacket & glasses and places his work bag on the coffee table. "Well, let's see if there's anything I can do to help you out," he says, reaching out to gently brush your hair aside.

"Oh, don't worry about me, dad," you assure him quickly, attempting to put on a brave face despite the discomfort. "It's not that bad. But thank you for asking."

Nanami raises an eyebrow at you, studying your expression carefully. "Don't try to lie to me, sweetheart, I can see your toes curling from the pain" he says gently. "I understand how painful these periods can be. Here, come. Let me help you, okay?", he says gesturing you on his lap.

You hesitate for a moment, feeling embarrassed about showing your weakness in front of him. However, Nanami's concern is evident in his eyes and you can't resist the urge to lean into his comforting embrace. As you sit on his lap, he wraps his arms around you tightly, providing you with warmth and support.

"There you go," he murmurs softly, rubbing your back in circular motions. "Do you want some painkillers? Maybe a hot pad? Or anything that will lessen your pain?" he offers.

Your body responds instinctively to his touch, moving closer to him unconsciously. You feel yourself grinding against him slightly and gasp, realizing what you've done. Your cheeks flush red with embarrassment, but Nanami remains composed.

"Easy now," he says quietly, placing his hand on your hips to steady both of you. "We'll take care of this quickly, okay?"

Feeling guilty for making him hard, you reach for his pants, running your fingers along the outline of his erection through the fabric. It's hard and warm beneath your touch and you pause before slowly stroking it.

"Will you feel good, if it's in you?", he asks; he is genuinely concerned about your well being more than his own.

You swallow hard, feeling the heat rise to your face once again."Yes, please... I think it would help," you admit shyly.

Nanami looks at you thoughtfully for a moment before nodding slowly. "Alright, then," he says decisively, lifting you up, freeing his member.

Nanami's thumb pushes aside your panties, his other hand positions his shaft at your entrance. He slowly slips into your bloodied cunt, the crimson fluid and your arousal making it easier for him to slide through your gummy walls. You gasp softly at the sensation, your eyes fluttering closed as he stretches your insides.

For a few moments, neither of you moves; his hands resting firmly on your waist, his breath warm on your neck. Then, your hips begin to buck involuntarily against him, seeking deeper penetration. The combination of pain and pleasure sends shivers down your spine.

Your red fluids seeps into his tan-coloured trousers, making them brown. But that's not his concern now. "That's it," Nanami murmurs approvingly, adjusting his grip on your hip as you move. "Let it out, baby girl. Let everything out."

Slowly, he begins to thrust into you, setting a rhythm that matches your movements. His hands roam across your body, finding your nipples and rubbing them lightly. The pleasure intensifies, culminating in soft moans escaping from your lips.

As Nanami's thrusts become more forceful, so does your breathing. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure coursing through you and soon enough, you feel the edge of release drawing near.

"Daddy.. A-ah.." You whisper hoarsely, gripping onto him tightly as your orgasm builds up. You're on the verge of losing control, feeling every nerve ending ignite.

A final powerful thrust sends you over the edge, your body trembling and you arching into him. A cry escapes your lips, muffled against his shoulder as you let it all out - all the pent-up frustration, discomfort, and desire colliding together in an intense climax.

Nanami holds you close, riding out your orgasm until the last ripple subsides. Once you're stable, he pulls out his blood-coated shaft slowly, leaving you slightly empty but content.

"There you go," he whispers reassuringly as you leans onto his chest. "That should help ease the cramps."

You lean into him, panting heavily as your mind starts to clear. The tension from the day dissolves away, replaced by a sense of satisfaction.

"Thank you, Daddy," you murmur gratefully, your voice shaky yet sincere.

Nanami smiles gently, kissing your temple. "Anything for my little girl," he promises softly.

◈ GETO SUGURU

Your stepfather, Suguru, has always been distant but kind when necessary, and you knew that he will help you with this matter as well. He takes care of all your needs, giving you various stuffs to help you go through your periods. Despite your gratitude, the fact remains that he despises non-sorcerers.

“You should be grateful I take care of such filth. Monkeys are disgusting creatures", he says while rubbing your back gently.

"Sorry for being a burden..", you reply, your eyes getting teary once again.

His face softens slightly as he continues comforting you, trying to make sure you feel better despite his true thoughts about you,

“Don’t worry about being a burden. It’s my duty to take care of you too, after all. Now focus on feeling better, monkey.”

"S'top being mean...", you speak nuzzling your head against his chest.

Surprised by your sudden reaction, he quickly puts aside his arrogance and focuses entirely on relieving your pain. A smile forms on his lips, albeit reluctantly, as he pats your head gently, secretly enjoying the momentary affection. “I’m not being mean, child. Just stating the truth. But since you asked nicely, I’ll stop for now.”

You relax in his embrace, yet flinch occasionally when cramps pain you. Gently rubbing your lower abdomen in a circular motion, he asks, “Are you okay? This shouldn’t hurt this much.”

As he continues his ministrations, his hands accidentally brush against your clit, causing a shiver to run through your body, you bite your lip trying to stop an incoming moan. Noticing this, he hesitates for a second, but then decides to continue, figuring that it might provide some relief. “Just let me help you here…” he murmurs softly

Cautiously, he reaches down and begins removing your underwear, making sure not to aggravate your delicate area further. Once it's off, he gently massages your exposed bud.

“This should help ease your discomfort,” he whispers reassuringly, his fingers lingering on your most sensitive spots.

"P-please, your hands are getting dirty..", your hands moving to stop his. He chuckles dryly at your protest, his expression darkening slightly as he maintains his touch.

“Believe me, I’ve dealt with far worse than this. Now try to relax, monkey.” with that, he continues stroking you, occasionally brushing against your entrance as well.

You gasp softly, trying to contain your growing arousal. The contradiction between his harsh words and gentle touch creates a strange mix of emotions within you.

“Please, don't call me that," you plead, your voice barely audible.

He stops abruptly, his gaze hardening as he meets yours. “There’s nothing wrong with the truth. Now, monkey focus on breathing and letting go of this pain.”

Without warning, he slides two fingers inside you, eliciting a sharp intake of breath from you. His eyes lock onto yours, watching your reactions intently as he starts moving them rhythmically.

“This might be uncomfortable at first, but it will help more than you think.”

Despite your embarrassment, the sensation is unlike anything you’ve experienced before. His skilled fingers create waves of pleasure mixed with pain. You squirm beneath his touch, unsure how to react to your conflicting emotions.

He watches your reactions carefully, his eyes filled with a mixture of satisfaction. "Good girl. Relax and enjoy it. This will make you feel better."

His rhythmic thrusts start to increase, matching the intensity of your growing arousal. You can't help but moan softly, your body responding to his touch despite your reservations.

"That's right. Let it out," he encourages, his voice lowers into a growl, his eyes narrowing slightly as he feels your walls tighten around his digits.

“Feel free to make noise, monkey. You need this release” The deeper he plunges, the stronger your reactions become. Your breath hitches, and you can't help but wrap your legs around his wrist, pulling him closer.

He grins wickedly, twisting his fingers inside you ever so slightly as he continues thrusting. His fingers dance in a way that brings an unusual sense of ecstasy and discomfort simultaneously.

Despite his choice of words, there’s something strangely comforting about his dominance. You find yourself lost in the sensations, your protests fading away until all that remains is the rhythmic movement of his fingers and the occasional muffled moan escaping your lips.

Ignoring the sight of his fingers coated with your crimson fluid everytime he moves out of you, he intensifies his movements, focusing on your pleasure rather than the messiness. Despite his usual contempt, his interest seems to peak with every drop of blood coating his fingers.

“Such a good girl. Love you sweetheart.. Let it all out.” His deep voice echoes in your ears like a chant, urging you to give in to the sensations. As your climax draws near, his words resonate louder in your mind, guiding you towards the peak.

The orgasm hits you like a wave, overwhelming your senses as he skillfully drives you to the edge. Your body trembles beneath him, your nails digging into whatever they could find purchase in, and you cry out.

His expression turns feral as you reach your high, a hint of triumph glimmering in his eyes. When your orgasm subsides, he pulls his fingers out slowly, licking them clean.

Your eyes and mouth, both widen at his action.

"Still feeling pain?", he asks, his demeanor chaning back to normal.

You take deep breaths, trying to regain your composure. Despite the lingering discomfort, there's a newfound sense of warmth within you, thanks to his touch.

“N-no not anymore... Thank you, daddy”, you thank him, your hands reaching for his, attempting to intertwine your fingers with his..

His eyes meet yours, a flicker of surprise passing through them before he smirks. “Of course, my little monkey. After all, it's my responsibility to take care of you too, isn't?", He pinches your cheek, and you nod, tilting back your head to rest.

◈ RYOMEN SUKUNA

Ryomen enters the room, his usual stoic expression barely shifting as he takes in the sight of you, holding your stomach from the cramps. "Uraume," he growls, gesturing towards the you. "Assist her." Turning his gaze back to you, he studies you for a moment before speaking again. "Your monthly curse approaches, huh? I suppose it can't be helped. Uraume will help you with the pain. Stay still, and try not to-"

"P-please.. I need you", you protest, wanting to be comforted only by him.

"Hmm, I see" Sukuna raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by the request. He slowly moves closer, examining your face before pulling you close to him gently.

With a sigh, he concedes. "Very well, your pleading is... entertaining. Lie down, and we shall see if I can ease your suffering."

He helps you onto the soft tatami mat, gently placing a pillow underneath your head. He reaches out to untie your obi, revealing your delicate undergarments. Carefully, he lifts them aside and lowers his head towards you then begins to lick and nibble at your flesh, blood droplets landing on his tonue.

"S-stop i-its dirty!", you protest, try to push his massive head away from your core.

He grins devilishly, his eyes gleaming in delight as he grasps your legs firmly with his two powerful arms. While his third hand expertly kneads your breast, his 'mouth' forms from the fourth one, closing over your nipple possessively. He sucks gently, causing your body to arch involuntarily.

"Hmph, you taste delicious. Just like ripe fruit..." He hums, his breath hitting your core. You feel yourself becoming flushed, his actions both embarrassing yet exhilarating. Despite your protests, you can't deny the pleasure coursing through you.

As his lips trace delicately across your skin, you begin to feel a warm sensation building within you. Your breathing becomes ragged, and your hips buck subconsciously. Slowly, his skilled hands and mouth bring you closer and closer to the edge. Finally, you let out a muffled cry, your release washing over you.

Once you've caught your breath, he pulls away, satisfaction radiating from his gaze. "There, much better. Your monthly pain curse should subside now." He smirks, wiping his mouth clean before standing up. "You may rest, dear. Remember, I am here to assist you whenever you need, even with such trivial matters."

With a final glance at your flushed face, Ryomen licks his lips slowly, his eyes lingering on your twitching body for just a moment longer. Then, to your astonishment, he leans in and presses his lips against your stomach.

"Goodnight, my dear." He says, disappearing into the shadows with a soft rustling of robes, leaving only the faintest.

◈ SHIU KONG

"Hey there, kiddo," he asks softly, setting down his cigarette on the table. "How are you feelin' today?" He knows your cycle started yesterday and he just wanna make sure you're alright. "Need anything from me? Want some ice cream?" he suggests with a crooked smile, trying to lighten the mood.

"N-NO", you nearly yell at him but soon realise you shouldn't have; your mood swings are getting the best of you.

"Alright, alright." He chuckles, raising his hands defensively. "I wasn't gonna force you to eat ice cream if you don't want to.. Just making an offer."

He stands up, crossing the room to sit next to you. His large hand gently rests on your shoulder. "Just let me know if you need anything, okay?" His eyes widen at the sudden appearance of tears, concern filling his face. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close to his chest.

"What's goin' on, huh? What's got you all upset?" He strokes your hair gently, trying to offer comfort. "You know you can tell me anything, right? I won't judge you."

The warmth of his embrace seeps into your bones, "Just cramps..", you reply, your voice slightly shaken by your emotions.

"Ah, that's rough," he says, nodding understandingly. "Let me grab you some painkillers, then. And maybe a heating pad to help ease those cramps."

As he gets up, he adds, "Try to relax, alright? We'll get through this together."

The way he says 'we' makes your heart skip a beat, but you push the thought away, focusing on the relief of his words.

"C-can you just stay here and", you pull his hand and direct it around your abdomen where it aches, "please massage it?"

Surprised, Shiu looks down at your hands, then back into your eyes. "Of course," he murmurs, resting one hand on your tummy and the other on your thigh. His fingers press gently, moving in slow circles. "Is this okay?"

His palm warms against your skin, alleviating some tension. You let out a shaky groan, giving in to his touch and allowing him to make you feel better.

He swallows hard, adjusting his grip, pressing deeper into your abdomen. The heat from his hand spreads, easing some of the pain.

"Better?" he whispers, concern etched onto his face. "Don't worry," he continues, glancing away nervously. "I've dealt with enough curse users in my career to handle a little cramping."

As his hands move rhythmically across your stomach, his eyes catch yours, lingering for just a moment too long. They try to ignore the electric charge between them.

"Yes..." you answer breathlessly, closing your eyes. "That feels good..." Your body responds to his touch, and you can't help but wish it would last forever.

Shiu shifts his patterns, from rubbing your abdomen to sliding through your shorts to rub against your clad clit. You are too absorbed in pleasure to notice his hand slipping through your shorts. When you come back to your senses, your eyes follow the movement of his hands.

"I said I'd help with the cramps, not..." he trails off, glancing away sheepishly. "Sorry, didn't mean to get carried away", tries to take his hands off you, when you stop him.

"N-no daddy, feels good", you speak timidly, not making eye contact with him.

He freezes for a second, his eyes widening. He chuckles, though it sounds shaky. "Guess you got a bit carried away too, huh?" With a smirk, he resumes his massage, adjusting his hand to provide more pressure to your clit. He leans closer, his free hand coming to cup your cheek.

"You alright?" he asks, concern coloring his voice. "This isn't making things worse, right?" You shake your head, still avoiding his glances. "Well, well," he chuckles, his fingers continuing their dance. "Seems like someone's enjoying this more than they should."

He rubs his thumb agains your lips. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna do anything you don't want. Just trying to make you feel better."

His touch grows bolder, his hand removing your shorts and panties to rub your clit bare. Your body flinches on direct contact.

His hand pauses, his eyes meeting yours. The look in his eyes is a mix of surprise and exhilaration. "Shall I continue?" he asks, concern filling his tone.

"Yes... yes please," you whisper, blushing furiously.

His eyebrows raise, but he nods slowly. "Okay, just let me know if it's too much, alr?" His fingers resume their movement, rubbing your swollen clit with renewed vigor. You moan softly, leaning into his touch.

He takes advantage of your vulnerability, his other hand sneaking under your shirt to caress your breast. His fingers brush against your nipple, and you gasp, arching into his touch. A shiver runs down your spine, your thighs parting naturally to accommodate his hand.

"Feels good, doesn't it?" he whispers, his hand moves downwards, exploring your stomach, hips, and thighs.

Then, you finally cry out, your legs trembling as an orgasm rips through you, more crimson fluid oozing from within you. Shiu freezes, his eyes wide, "Whoa, whoa, easy there, kiddo," he mutters.

He stops his ministrations, allowing you to recover from your climax. When you finally regain control, he lets out a quiet laugh. "Didn't expect that," he admits, shaking his head slightly. "But hey, if it feels good, then I guess I did a good job"

"Y-yes felt good.. T-thanks dad..", you admit swallowing hard.

"I'm glad, really," he replies, his hands returning to your stomach. His eyes finally meeting yours again.

"But you know," he says hesitantly. "If you ever need a hand... helping you out, you can count on me, right girl?" He smiles, cupping your jaw. "Just remember that."

◈ HIGURUMA HIROMI

Upon returning from work, Hiromi notices his little girl curled up in bed, clutching her abdomen in obvious discomfort. Immediately, concern fills his usually stoic expression. He gently approaches you and examines your face, trying to gauge the severity of your pain.

"Darling," he whispers softly, trying not to startle you. "Are you unwell?" His hand rests lightly on her forehead, feeling for any signs of fever.

You shift in your sleep whispering, "Period pain"

Hiromi's brow furrows with worry, realizing what might be causing your discomfort. He reaches out to grab a pillow and gently places it under your knees to ease the pressure on your lower abdomen.

"I'm so sorry," he says, tenderly. "Didn't expect this to happen today. Let me make you something warm and comforting to help ease the pain."

He stands up to leave for kitchen when you stop him by his hands. "P-please you don't need to do anything.."

He looks down at you, his heart aching for the discomfort you must be experiencing. He understands your desire to handle things independently, but as your stepdad, he feels responsible for taking care of you.

"No matter how grown-up you try to be," Hiromi says softly, brushing a stray lock of hair from your forehead, "You're still my little girl, and I want to help you feel better." He kneels beside the bed again and takes your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "Tell me what will make you feel better"

"You..", you reply instantly and involuntarily.

Hiromi looks at you confused by your request," Me?"

Words stuck in your throat as you swallow hard while speaking again, "inside me.."

Hiromi's eyes widen slightly at your unexpected words. He releases a quiet breath, trying to process what you are asking of him. There's a moment where confusion lingers in his gaze before understanding dawns upon him.

"I... I understand," he says in a measured tone. "But are you sure about this?"

His fingers trace gentle circles on the back of your hand, offering both comfort and support. "It's alright if you're uncomfortable discussing it. We can find another way to help with the pain."

You speak again slowly, not meeting his gaze. "Please.."

Hiromi swallows hard, a mix of emotions churning in his chest. Surprise, worry, and protectiveness all coalesce into a single determination. He knows he can't force himself onto you, no matter how much he wants to ease your pain. But he also recognizes your need for comfort and relief.

"Alright," he agrees quietly, rising from the bed to move to the foot of it. "Let's get you more comfortable first."

With utmost gentleness, Hiromi eases you onto your back, making sure you're lying flat and secure on the bed. He removes your remaining clothing, ensuring you're comfortable throughout the process. Once you're settled, his fingertips brush against your skin, eliciting a shiver from you.

"Sorry," he murmurs, his voice barely audible. "Just trying to make you as comfortable as possible."

He prepares himself, taking off his garments and discarding them on the floor, "Ready?" he asks quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

A tremulous nod is your response, your eyes locked with his. Hiromi smiles softly, reaching for your legs. He spreads them apart gently, his touch tender yet purposeful.

"We'll take this slowly," he promises, his thumbs brushing the inside of your thighs. Your thighs shake slightly, but he stops immediately. "If at any moment you feel pain or discomfort, please tell me, okay?"

You give a small nod, and he continues, his fingers tracing along your inner thighs before eventually finding their way to your core. A nervous flutter courses through you, but he remains patient and gentle.

"Just relax," he instructs as he directs himself between your legs.

Hiromi enters you slowly, taking his time to allow your body to adjust to his presence. He moves with careful precision, each thrust deliberate and unhurried. A deep sense of tenderness fills him as he looks into your eyes, gauging your reaction. Your breath hitches with each movement, but there's no sign of distress.

"How are you doing?" he asks softly, his pace matching the rhythm of your breathing.

"Good..so good.. It's so deep and it's.. a-ah", you flinch at his sudden and rough thrust.

Hiromi winces slightly at your discomfort, stopping instantly. "I'm sorry, darling. I didn't mean to cause you pain." He pulls out slowly, his expression full of concern.

"No, it's fine..." you breathe out. "Don't stop..."

He studies your face for a moment, making sure you're truly okay. When he sees your nod, he begins again, moving slower than before.

As his movements continue, his shaft becomes coated with your menstrual blood. Despite the unusual circumstance, Hiromi pushes those thoughts aside and focuses solely on providing comfort and relief. Each stroke is filled with tender care, designed to bring warmth and pleasure rather than discomfort.

Your eyes close, your body arching ever so slightly with each thrust. The room is filled with nothing but the sounds of your soft moans and his steady breaths.

As the minutes pass, Hiromi can feel your body responding to his touch, the subtle changes telling him you're nearing your climax. His own heart races, feeling a strange mixture of pride and protectiveness. All he desires is to provide you with comfort and release.

"That's it," he whispers, his tempo increasing ever so slightly. "Let go, darling. Let the pleasure wash away your pain."

Suddenly, your body tenses, a wave of ecstasy washing over you. Hiromi matches your intensity, his own breath catching in his throat as he feels your muscles clench around him. With one final surge, he follows you over the edge, your bodies moving in perfect sync.

As your orgasm subsides, Hiromo collapses onto your chest, his heart pounding heavily against yours. He kisses your forehead softly, his breath ragged. "There you go," he murmurs.

"Thank you for trusting me," he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. "I hope this helped alleviate your pain."

You look up at him, a grateful smile gracing your lips. "Thank you, it does not pain anymore"

Smile washes over Hiromi's face as he realizes his actions have indeed brought you relief. He pulls out slowly, carefully cleaning up afterwards. Once done, he helps you get cleaned and comfortable, tucking you in tightly.

Hiromi wraps you in his arms, feeling your gratitude like a soothing balm on his soul. He holds you close, stroking your hair gently as you snuggle against his chest. The silence between you speaks volumes about the bond shared - one of love, protection, and unspoken understanding.

"Get some rest now," he says softly, his voice lulling you further into relaxation.

◈ CHOSO KAMO

As a stepfather, Choso is there for you in times of need. Right now, you're going through your period, and he's ready to help take care of you. He's not bold or confident, but he knows how important it is to support you during this time.

Being a curse, Choso is indeed curious about the human body. As he helps you with your period, he finds himself fascinated by your menstrual cycle. He wants to comfort you and learn more about this natural process, taking care of you while gently studying your body.

Gently, Choso holds you close as you lay on his thighs, the cramps making you hiss occasionally. His fingers lightly trace circles over your stomach, attempting to provide comfort as he absorbs the rhythm of your pain. The unfamiliar feeling of caring for someone heals a part of him, even though it's something as simple as relieving period cramps.

"Are you okay?" Choso whispers softly, concern lacing his voice. "I've never experienced something like this before... I want to help, but I'm not sure what to do." He continues stroking your stomach, trying to find some relief for you and hoping his touch brings comfort amidst the discomfort.

You force a smile, saying you're fine, but Choso can tell you're not. Your words don't match the tension in your body. He carefully moves closer, placing his hands between your legs, gently caressing your stomach in a slow, soothing motion.

"May I try massaging your lower abdomen?," he suggests, cautiously approaching your abdomen. His fingers are warm and soft, hesitating slightly as he seeks your permission. "It might help with the cramps," he adds, his dark purple eyes filled with concern. He's never done this before, but he wants to help you feel better. He's always been interested in human bodies and their functions, but now he's learning more intimately.

Reluctantly, you nod, allowing Choso to continue massaging your lower abdomen. His fingers move slowly, tracing gentle patterns that might bring you some relief. As he works his fingers, you instinctively start grinding against his hand, seeking more friction to ease your discomfort. Choso notices this, but doesn't stop.

As his fingers reach closer to your core, you let out soft moans that he interprets as pleasure rather than pain. He sees how much you enjoy it, and decides to use his other hand too, cupping your hip to guide you into proper position. He studies your reactions, understanding that the sensation seems to bring you relief. The curves of your hips and the heat of your body under his hands make him feel both excited and responsible for your well-being.

"Is this helping?" he asks, his voice low and husky, portraying a hint of excitement. "I'm not sure if I'm doing this right, but I think it might be working." He watches your movements closely, guided by your responses. Every moan, every small sound of pleasure fuels his curiosity and makes him wonder how else he could make you feel good.

Despite his confusion and innocence, Choso can't ignore the growing attraction between you both. His cock starts to stiffen, pressing against his clothes. He groans softly trying to hide his arousal but you soon turn your head to reveal his massive bulge pressing against your head.

"I'm sorry," he mutters, embarrassed by his reaction. "This wasn't supposed to happen..." He's unsure how to handle the situation, partially aroused and partially concerned for you. "Should we stop?"

"P-please, let me grind against it", with a mix of surprise and nervousness, you beg him to let you grind against his erection. Choso's heart races; this isn't what he expected. Reluctantly, he places your head on the pillow, positions himself between your legs and undoes your pants, revealing your bloodied and swollen pussy. His eyes widen, he has never seen something like this.

He pulls out his own hard cock making sure he does everything to make you feel better. Carefully, he guides the head of his cock to your throbbing clit, rubbing it back and forth in small motions. Your contractions push your wet folds onto the tip of his shaft, leaving a trail of blood. Choso can't help but groan, feeling the warmth and wet folds rubbing against his member.

Choso looks into your eyes, seeking consent or dismissal. What he sees is desire, and you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.

Swallowing hard, he feels a strange mixture of arousal and responsibility. Choso's pace increases as both of you moan heavily. He keeps rubbing his cock against your clit, feeling your wetness increase with each thrust.

Soon, you climax, shaking in his grasp, and he can't hold back anymore. Aching to release his own tension, Choso spills his cum onto your belly, still rubbing his cock against your clit. The warmth of your body and the sight of his seed spreading over your skin overwhelm him. "I'm—I'm sorry," he mumbles, pulling away. "That wasn-"

You interrupt him with "T-thank you.."

Choso's face turns bright red, but he can't deny the gratitude in your voice. Confusion clouds his mind, but he appreciates your Thank you.

"Y-you're welcome..." He stammers, trying to catch his breath. Despite everything, he feels satisfied knowing he brought pleasure to you. "Do you feel better now?"

"Y-yes so much", you admit.

After a moment, Choso kisses your cheeks gently, surprised at how soft and warm they feel. He stands up, helping you to your feet as well. "Let's clean up," he says quietly, guiding you towards the bathroom.

dividers from @/cafekitsune

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slickdickwitchbitchh · 2 months ago

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Streamer!JJ x Tiktokit!girlreader Headcanons

JJ’s streams are pure chaos, filled with jokes, wild commentary, and unpredictable antics. His audience tunes in for the rollercoaster ride he creates every time he goes live.

He leans into his bad-boy charm, often teasing authority figures or poking fun at Twitch rules (without breaking them).

He streams popular games like Call of Duty, Apex Legends, and Fortnite, but also surprises viewers with random choices like Stardew Valley or Among Us, where he thrives as the chaotic wildcard.

He’s always giving away random stuff like custom merch, surfboards, or even an old fishing rod he signed. Fans love how genuine and unpredictable he is.

JJ thrives on trolling back chat trolls, usually with witty comebacks or playful banter. It’s all in good fun, and his fans eat it up.

JJ’s setup is a mix of high-end gaming gear (probably gifted by fans) and things he rigged together himself, like a hand-painted backdrop. His camera angle is always slightly crooked, which fans find endearing.

JJ often streams with John B, Kie, Pope, and Sarah. These sessions are chaotic but hilarious, with JJ constantly trying to prank the others mid-game.

He occasionally takes his audience outside, streaming adventures like late-night fishing or skateboarding stunts. These IRL streams are just as chaotic as his gaming ones.

His chat is filled with recurring memes, like calling out JJ for always “forgetting” to fix his camera or hyping him up as the “king of clutch plays” when he barely scrapes by in games.

JJ uses his platform to raise money for causes close to his heart, like ocean conservation or supporting underprivileged youth. He does wild challenges as donation incentives, like shaving his head or attempting to surf while live-streaming.

He hosts events like beach clean-ups, livestreaming them to encourage his audience to get involved in their own communities.

JJ Maybank wasn’t the type of guy to get flustered, especially not by some girl on TikTok. But there was something about her. Y/N wasn’t just any IT girl—she was the IT girl. Her TikToks were effortlessly cool: dark eyeliner smudged to perfection, oversized leather jackets, and a smirk that could either destroy you or make your whole day. She was the epitome of black cat energy, the polar opposite of JJ’s chaotic golden retriever vibe.

It started with a repost. JJ was mindlessly scrolling TikTok late at night when he stumbled upon one of her videos. She was mouthing along to some sultry audio, her piercing gaze aimed directly into the camera. Without thinking, he hit the “repost” button and added the caption, "Okay, but why is this so good? Teach me your ways."

He didn’t think much of it—just JJ being JJ, hyping up someone who clearly had their life together. What he didn’t anticipate was the absolute meltdown his fans would have the next day.

JJ went live on Twitch the following afternoon, expecting another chaotic day of gaming and banter. But the chat was already spiraling out of control before he even picked up his controller.

“JJ, explain that TikTok repost.” “Bro, are you crushing on Y/N or what?” “JYN 2024 LET’S GO!”

JJ squinted at the chat, confused. “What are you guys talking about?” Then it hit him. His repost. His face immediately flushed. “Oh, come on! I just thought it was a good TikTok! Can’t a guy appreciate some talent without everyone making it weird?”

His chat was having none of it. Fans spammed heart emojis, ship names, and theories about JJ’s crush. Despite his protests, he couldn’t hide the goofy grin that crept onto his face whenever Y/N’s name came up.

It wasn’t long before Y/N caught wind of the repost. Her comment section was flooded with messages like, “JJ Maybank is OBSESSED with you,” and “When’s the collab with JJ?”

Ever the unbothered queen, Y/N played it cool. She stitched his repost, smirking into the camera as she said, “JJ? Isn’t he that streamer who can’t finish a game without breaking something?”

The video went viral immediately. JJ saw it live during one of his streams, his jaw dropping in mock offense as the clip played on repeat. “Chat, did she just roast me? Oh, it’s on now.”

But instead of firing back with an actual roast, JJ doubled down on the banter. He reposted her video with, "Touché. But we all know I’d win in a 1v1. Prove me wrong?" Fans loved the playful back-and-forth, and the internet began buzzing about their “rivalry.”

After weeks of teasing from his fans, JJ finally slid into Y/N’s DMs. His message was equal parts confident and awkward:

“Okay, so I’m not saying I’m scared of you, but I’m also not not saying it. Wanna settle this on stream? Loser buys dinner.”

To his surprise, Y/N replied within minutes. “You’re lucky I like chaos. Let’s do it. But don’t cry when I win.”

From that point on, their banter escalated. They played a few games together—her calm, calculated black cat energy perfectly balancing his chaotic golden retriever vibe. Every time she called him out for being “too loud” or “too much,” he countered with an over-the-top compliment that made her laugh despite herself.

Fans started shipping them harder than ever, creating fan edits of JJ’s streams mixed with her TikToks. “Golden retriever x black cat” trended across multiple platforms, and both JJ and Y/N leaned into it, dropping subtle hints about their connection.

Despite the internet’s obsession with their ship, JJ and Y/N kept things private. They texted constantly, had late-night FaceTime calls, and even managed to meet up a few times without anyone finding out. JJ would ramble about her to John B and Pope, grinning like an idiot the entire time.

“She’s so cool, man. Like, effortlessly cool. I don’t even know why she talks to me.”

Pope smirked. “Maybe because you won’t shut up about her?”

Meanwhile, Y/N’s TikToks started to feature subtle hints of their connection. A leather jacket draped over a chair that looked suspiciously like JJ’s. A quick shot of a hand with his signature Pogue bracelet. Her fans speculated wildly, but she never confirmed anything.

JJ loved how private their relationship was, but he also couldn’t wait to share her with the world. He just didn’t know how.

It happened unexpectedly during one of JJ’s streams. He was mid-match, trash-talking his opponents, when a voice chimed in from off-camera.

“You talk a big game for someone who just got sniped.”

JJ froze, his eyes darting to the side. “Chat… wait. Hold up. Chat, I didn’t—she wasn’t supposed to be here yet.”

Before he could explain, Y/N walked into frame, looking effortlessly cool in an oversized hoodie and messy hair. She leaned on his chair, smirking at the camera.

“Hey, JJ’s little crew. Hope he’s treating you better than he treats his K/D ratio.”

Chaos erupted. The chat was a flood of messages:

“NO WAY IS THAT Y/N???”

“Golden retriever x black cat IRL CONFIRMED.”

“Our ship is REAL!”

JJ groaned, burying his face in his hands. “Y/N, you just broke the internet.”

“Good,” she replied, smirking. “They needed something exciting today.”

For the rest of the stream, the two bantered back and forth, with Y/N casually roasting JJ’s gameplay and him dramatically pretending to be heartbroken. Fans couldn’t get enough.

The internet exploded with memes, fan edits, and tweets about the reveal. JJ and Y/N trended for days, their dynamic captivating fans everywhere. Despite the chaos, they handled it in stride, continuing to stream together occasionally while keeping most of their relationship private.

JJ loved seeing her in her element, effortlessly winning over his fans with her quick wit and charm. And Y/N couldn’t help but admire how genuine and fun he was, even when the spotlight was on them.

Their relationship became the perfect mix of chaos and calm—just like a golden retriever and a black cat.

Stream Comments :

"THE WAY HE LOOKS AT HER 😭💘 THEY'RE ENDGAME, YOUR HONOR."

"JJ pulled Y/N??? The rest of us don’t stand a CHANCE."

"She’s so black cat coded, and he’s just barking in the background. Literal perfection."

"So we’re just not gonna talk about how he’s been soft-launching her for WEEKS???"

"‘She wasn’t supposed to be here yet’ 🤨 JJ, be so serious. You KNEW."

"The way she casually roasted him and he just SMILED??? Sir, you’re down bad."

"Plot twist: They’ve been dating this whole time, and we were just clowns 🤡."

"JJ soft launching her bracelet in the background of his streams… sneaky king 😏."

#jj maybank #jj maybank smut #jj maybank x reader #streamer!jj #it!girl reader #streamerjjmaybank

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troveoftrolls · 2 months ago

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All hail to the king~ Thrash in his prime and heading the Rock trolls. No one is quite sure where he came from. The big fucker just seemed to roll up one day and made himself comfy. Then proceeded to steamroll in seizing the throne. He's lead the tribe well and life under his reign has been an easy one.

Bonus art!: Thrash playing with a very young Barb and Thrash himself as a little one.

-Luxx

#dreamworks trolls #trolls band together #trolls world tour #trolls au #overse #overse trolls #second chance #trolls character spotlight #trolls Thrash #Thrash #trolls barb #Barb

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lizislife · 1 month ago

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i had a vision...

@troveoftrolls

#trolls band together #trolls fanart #overse #overse trolls #second chance #trollex

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cuddlyeren · 3 months ago

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Meet My Girlfriend!

(Not clickbait)

—————————————————————

Hamzah leaned back in his chair, staring at the blank YouTube title box. His cursor blinked impatiently.

He sighed, running a hand through his curly hair. “Alright,” he muttered to himself. “Let’s rip the bandage off.”

In bold letters, he typed: “Meet My Girlfriend (not clickbait).”

A soft laugh escaped him, the irony of it all hitting him at once. For years, he had carefully cultivated a persona of the charming, funny, and very much single guy online. Fans loved him for it shipping him with their own imaginations, leaving cheeky comments like, “Hamzah, you’re my future husband, you just don’t know it yet!” or “Stay single forever!”

But now… things were about to change.

“Babe, are you sure you’re ready for this?” Y/N’s voice floated from the doorway.

Hamzah turned to see her leaning against the frame, dressed in one of his oversized hoodies. She looked nervous, her arms crossed protectively over her chest. It wasn’t like her to be unsure—one of the many things he loved about her was her confidence.

“Yes” he said, standing up and walking over to her. “I mean, I don’t want to hide you anymore. I’m tired of pretending like you don’t exist in my life when you’re the best part of it.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “That’s a cheesy line.”

“Cheesy, but true,” he said, placing a hand on her cheek. “Listen, I know my fans are intense… Some of them might not take it well, but I want them to know the real me. And the real me is crazy about you.”

Her smile softened, but her eyes still carried doubt. “What if they hate me?”

“They won’t,” Hamzah said firmly. “And even if some do, they’ll get over it. I’m not going to let a few people’s opinions stop me from showing you off.”

Y/N exhaled, her resolve solidifying. “Okay. Let’s do it. But if this ruins your career, you’re not allowed to blame me.”

Hamzah grinned. “Deal.”

———

The next day, the internet buzzed with speculation.

Hamzah had tweeted:

Big news dropping tomorrow. 👀

In minutes, his fans were in a frenzy:

• “HE’S RELEASING MERCH, I KNOW IT!”

• “Collab with friends ? Please say it’s chase and Claire !”

• “WHAT IF IT’S A GIRLFRIEND??? 😱”

By the time the video premiered, his audience was practically vibrating with anticipation.

The screen lit up with Hamzah sitting in his usual filming spot, a goofy grin on his face. “Alright, guys, I know you’re all dying to know what the big news is, so I won’t drag it out too long. But first…” He leaned closer to the camera, lowering his voice dramatically. “How are you doing? You good? Hydrated? Alright, cool.”

He straightened up, his expression softening. “So, here’s the thing. You guys have been with me through everything—my first awkward videos, my cringe TikTok dances, my horrible attempts at cooking. You’re like family to me. And because of that, I think it’s time I introduce you to someone really special.”

The comments exploded immediately:

• “OH MY GOD IT’S HAPPENING.”

• “WAIT, WHAT?!?”

• “He’s trolling us… right??”

Hamzah chuckled, glancing off-camera. “Y/N, you ready?” He extends his hand signaling to y/n that she could come now

A moment later, Y/N walked into the frame, smiling nervously. She waved. “Hi, everyone!”

The comments came faster than either of them could read:

• “SHE’S SO PRETTY OMG.”

• “Wait, who is this???”

• “Not my parasocial relationship crumbling rn.”

“This is Y/N,” Hamzah said, his voice full of warmth. “My girlfriend. And before you freak out—yes, I’ve been keeping this a secret for a while. Not because I didn’t want you to know, but because I wanted to protect her from… well, you know how some of y’all can be.”

Y/N laughed nervously, and Hamzah squeezed her hand.

The video continued with them sharing how they met and answering some lighthearted questions. But as the comments poured in, it became clear that not everyone was thrilled.

Later that night, as Hamzah scrolled through Twitter, he sighed. “Well, the fans are… divided.”

Y/N peered over his shoulder. Among the supportive messages were tweets like:

• “Heartbroken. Never trusting men again.”

• “Unsubscribed. You ruined my fantasy, Hamzah.”

But then there were others:

• “Y/N seems sweet. I’m happy for you, Hamzah!”

• “As long as you keep posting funny videos, I don’t care who you date.”

He looked at Y/N, who was reading the tweets with an unreadable expression. “Hey,” he said softly, turning her face toward him. “Are you okay?”

She hesitated before nodding. “Yeah. It’s a lot, but I’ll survive. As long as you’re by my side.”

Hamzah smiled, pulling her into a hug. “Always.”

—-

Inspired by Mandy’s recent YT Video and everyone saying that he has a gf😭 hope yall liked my first fic…

#hamzahsmut #hamzah fluff #hamzah angst #martin and hamzah #hamzah fic #hamzah x reader #hamzah x y/n #hamzah imagines #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah #hamzahthefanatasticxreader #slushy noobz #slushy virus #fanfic

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luverine · 2 months ago

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Orc (Leif) Blacksmith x fem! Hunter! Reader /P.4

MDNI // 3.1k words // smuttt // meet mom and get boned in the woods?? // 18+ // Leif is a sweetheart // no proof read // Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3

It is cold.

Winter came like a ravenous beast, its icy breath cutting through the air. Winds howled with relentless fury, and flurries of snow whipped around, making travel arduous and blinding. For you, it was a challenge to keep moving, for you-

Leif, massive and impervious to the cold, seemed hardly affected. Wrapped in nothing more than a loincloth and a fur-lined cape, he was sweating, of all things. Yet, his complaints filled the frosty air.

“My legs are killing me,” he groaned, trudging along with a scowl.

You shot him a look of disbelief, bundled head to toe in thick furs and linens. In your current state, you probably looked more like a beast. Crossing your arms, you raised an incredulous brow at him.

“Really?” you grunted. “We’re barely halfway through, and you’re whining about your legs?”

Leif pouted, his broad olive shoulders sagging. “It’s not my fault! I didn’t know we’d be walking this much.”

You rolled your eyes as his grumbling continued, though the sight of an inn up ahead brought relief. Warm light spilled from its windows, accompanied by the muffled cacophony of voices and music. Inside, the place was alive- rowdy patrons danced and sang, while others brawled or swayed drunkenly with half-empty mugs. A chaotic but welcome reprieve from the storm.

Leif hesitated, his hulking frame shifting uneasily. “Uh… we could keep going,” he muttered, his amber eyes darting toward the boisterous crowd.

“Not a chance,” you said, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’m exhausted, and a drink sounds like exactly what I need.”

Before he could protest, you slipped into the throng, navigating the chaos toward the bar. Leif, meanwhile, hugged the wall near the entrance, his size drawing curious glances. You spotted him there, his brows knitted, his jaw tight as he scanned the room.

“What’s wrong?” you asked when you finally rejoined him. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“I just want to get to the room,” he said, his voice low and strained. His eyes, usually steady, flitted nervously over the crowd before settling on yours. “I don’t… like this.”

You tilted your head, studying him. “Are you sure you’re okay? You look pale.”

“I’m fine. I just need to sleep,” he murmured, already moving toward the back of the inn where the check-in desk sat.

You followed, stepping up to a small troll who was engrossed in a tattered book. He barely glanced up before breaking into a toothy grin.

“Room for two?” you asked.

“Good timing,” the troll said, snapping the book shut. “All I’ve got left are twins.”

You and Leif exchanged a sigh before handing over three coins. With a jingle of keys, the troll waved you off toward the stairs.

The room was cramped, with two tiny beds that seemed more like oversized cushions. You dropped your sack and bow onto one of them, laughing as you tested its size. “If I can barely fit on this, you might as well call it a pillow.”

Leif scowled, his shoulders brushing the doorframe as he stepped inside. “It’s… small,” he muttered, his voice tinged with resignation.

“Small’s an understatement.” You kicked off your boots and flopped onto the bed, ignoring its protests under your weight. “But it’s warm, and it’s better than freezing out there.”

Leif sat on the edge of his bed, his broad frame making it creak ominously. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor. The tension hadn’t left his face.

“You sure you’re okay?” you asked, softer this time.

He nodded, though his voice wavered. “I’m good. Just… tired.”

Sleep was elusive. The beds were too small, the room felt suffocating, and the creeping cold made it worse. You shifted uncomfortably, letting out a frustrated groan before sitting up.

“Leif, get up,” you muttered, nudging him. “I’m pushing the beds together.”

He grunted, barely awake, but propped himself up to help. Together, you managed to slide the beds closer, the narrow gap between them disappearing.

It wasn’t perfect, but it was better. You shrugged and lay back down. “Alright, let’s try this again. Sweet dreams, yeah?”

Leif paused for a moment, his voice soft and low. “You too, měsíční svit.”

The words lingered in the air, his hand hesitantly reaching for yours.

Without thinking, you took it.

A faint blush bloomed across his cheeks, his expression warm yet flustered. Little did you know, in his traditions, this simple gesture meant far more. To him, you were already something more than friends- closer to love, he could feel it.

As slumber finally took over the both of you dreams of your tender touch against his hard muscled skin played in his head.

•••

The morning was brisk, the air sharp as you hurriedly snatched a few small loaves of bread before stepping out into the cold desert of winter. The snow had grown deeper overnight, soft drifts crunching underfoot. It barely reached the calf of the towering orc beside you, yet for you, it climbed nearly to your knees, each step a small struggle.

Huffing against the biting chill, you glanced up at him- his imposing frame cloaked in the muted tones of the season. His olive-green skin darkened faintly as your eyes met, a hint of bashfulness betraying the admiration he’d been trying to play off.

“Feeling alright, big guy?” you teased, your breath fogging in the frosty air.

He chuckled, a deep and rumbling sound that warmed the cold around you. “Better than alright,” he said, his tusked grin widening. “I can’t wait to introduce you to my mother- she’ll adore you.”

His excitement was contagious as he embarked into tales of his childhood, his voice animated as he shared silly misadventures and endearing memories from years past. The frigid morning seemed to fade as his laughter echoed across the snow.

•••

As the journey drew to a close, you found yourself approaching a village called Solheimar. The crisp winter air carried the faint crackle of fire and the hum of celebration. People draped in thick furs and adorned with intricately braided hair bustled about, their laughter and shouts mingling with the melodies of a barmaid’s song. Flames leapt skyward from bonfires, casting flickering light over axe-bearing men and women who drank and danced in the frosty night.

“Vikings,” you murmured, glancing at Leif for confirmation. But his gaze was already fixed on you, a proud gleam in his eyes. He spread his arms wide, as if embracing the scene.

“This is my homeland!” he declared, his voice warm with emotion. “Isn’t it breathtaking? I missed the traditions here- there’s always something to celebrate.”

Looking around, you take in the tall wooden structures, their walls adorned with intricately carved designs that weave together like the threads of an old story.

“Your home is truly a sight,” you say, turning to Leif. “Why would you ever leave a place like this for the quiet little village we claimed?”

A sigh escaped his lips, a cloud of breath misting in the icy air. “I never really belonged,” he admitted, his voice heavy with a quiet ache. “Even with my mother, I was always… different, never truly kin to the others.”

His words settled over you like a familiar weight, stirring something deep within. You knew that feeling all too well- the ache of being out of place in your own land. But unlike him, you had refused to leave. Your home was yours, no matter how it tried to push you away.

Your gaze softened as you studied him. His face, his lips- dangerous and alluring with those tusk-like teeth. His skin, dark olive and rich, framed his features like a masterpiece. And those lips, full and plump- oh.

You tore your eyes away, but not before catching the faint sparkle in his, a flicker of something tender as he laid bare his memories and old wounds.

“Leif…”

His bourbon eyes pounce upon yours, “You belong anywhere you go you seem to make it better.” You look away, unable to hold contact to such an intense feeling.

A smile crosses his face, no trace of melancholy anymore. “Thank you můj měsíčku.” Tears glaze over his sight but are blinked away before they fall.

•••

The night was filled with rambling stories and bursts of laughter, ale loosening tongues as they learned more about each other.

“So, let me get this straight- you ate rocks as a child?”

“No, no! It wasn’t the rocks, it was the salt on them! They were salty!”

“Uh-huh,” you snorted, eyeing him suspiciously. “You’re telling me you licked salty rocks for fun?”

“Not for fun- okay, maybe a little for fun.”

The both of you erupted in laughter again before the second leaned back smugly.

“Well, I used to hunt with my bare hands.”

“…You make me nervous.”

•••

You were woken by the warm sun creeping over the horizon and the murmur of townsfolk already busy with morning chores. Turning to your right, you spotted Leif sprawled on the cobblestones outside the pub, snoring softly.

“Damn it, Leif, get up. We’ve got to move,” you muttered, giving the brutish orc a firm tug on his arm.

With a low groan, he stirred, blinking groggily at his surroundings. It all came rushing back- the pub, the ale, and how thoroughly you both got swilled.

Leif sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his neck as a grin crept across his face. Matka. His heart swelled at the thought. Soon, you’d meet her soon, you’d be family, if she approved… which she would.

“We should not have drank so much my head feels like it’s gonna pop-“

Leif laughed off your complaint and patted your head, “I forgot small humans can’t dunk as much- I’m surprised you kept up.”

You groan and pick yourself off the graveled ground.

…

The walk to Leif’s family home was quiet, the frost-laden village waking in slow ripples as sunlight kissed the rooftops. Leif carried himself with unusual tension, his broad shoulders straight, his stride purposeful. You could tell he was nervous, though he tried to mask it.

“So,” you began, breaking the silence. “What’s she like?”

“Matka?” Leif’s amber eyes softened, and a soft smile touched his lips. “She’s… strong. Wise. And terrifying when she wants to be.” He chuckled, but there’s a trace of pride in his voice was clear. “But she’s also kind. She’ll like you.”

“I hope you're right,” you murmured, the weight of his words settling over you. The idea of meeting the woman who had raised someone like Leif made your stomach twist with nervous anticipation.

As you approached the outskirts of the village, a sturdy longhouse came into view, its walls adorned with intricate carvings of wargs, moons, and fierce warriors. Smoke curled from the chimney, and the scent of roasting meat mingled with the crisp winter air.

The door swung open before you even reached it, revealing a tall Vakyriecwoman with streaks of silver in her brown hair. Her eyes, a piercing shade of amber like Leif’s, locked onto you with an assessing gaze. Despite the lines of age on her face, her presence was commanding, her posture regal.

“Matka,” Leif greeted, his voice warm but measured.

The woman’s gaze shifted to her son, softening immediately. “Leif,” she said, her voice rich and melodic. She stepped forward, pulling him into a firm embrace before holding him at arm’s length. “You’ve grown even more, my boy. And you’ve brought a guest.”

You offered a polite smile, bowing your head slightly. “It’s an honor to meet you, ma’am.”

Her eyes flicked over you once more, sharp but not unkind. “You must have a name.”

You introduced yourself, and her expression softened further, recalling his letters. “Welcome to our home. Come inside- both of you.”

The interior of the longhouse was warm and inviting, the hearth crackling with life. Tapestries lined the walls, depicting battles, celebrations, and family lineage. A table was already set with bread, meat, and mugs of steaming broth.

Over the meal, Matka asked you endless questions- about your journey, your skills, and your family. Her gaze never wavered, and her attention felt both flattering and slightly unnerving.

Leif, however, watched the exchange with a mixture of amusement and quiet approval. When his mother finally leaned back, a satisfied smile spread across her face.

“You’re strong,” she declared. “And clever. You’ll need both to handle my son.”

Leif sputtered, his face flushing as you laughed softly.

Matka’s smile turned sly. “I like you.”

Leif felt as if his heart would burst, to him you became a part of the family- it couldn’t make him more content.

As the night went on with story’s of his childhood and tales of battles, Bodil- Leif’s Matka called it for the night and insisted on residing in the orcs old bedroom.

Unable to deny the offer, you and Leif agree but before you head to the bedroom to finally get a good night's rest.

“Come with me?” He asks looking fondly into your eyes, holding a hand out.

You let out a tired huff and take a hold on his larger olive hand, rough from his hard work.

The snow had stopped, leaving the world blanketed in a pristine sheet of white. You and Leif ventured out to explore the nearby woods. The quiet was soothing, the crunch of snow underfoot the only sound as you walked side by side.

Leif seemed more at ease now, the earlier tension replaced by a quiet contentment. “She likes you,” he said suddenly, his voice low.

You smirk at what he obviously stated. “I noticed.”

“She’s never liked anyone I’ve brought home before,” he added, glancing at you.

You stopped, turning to face him. “How many people have you brought home?”

Leif hesitated, scratching the back of his neck. “Not… many,” he admitted. “But none of them ever were like you...”

His words hung in the air, the weight of them sinking in. Your cheeks warmed, and you found yourself averting your gaze.

“Leif-”

He stepped closer, his broad hand gently tilting your chin so your eyes met his. The vulnerability in his expression was unexpected, his usual confidence replaced by something softer.

“I mean it,” he murmured, his voice rough but earnest. “You’ve changed everything for me.”

Before you could respond, his lips brushed against yours- tentative at first, then deepening as his hands settled on your waist. The kiss was slow, deliberate, and filled with unspoken promises.

When you finally broke apart, tusks brushing against lips, our breaths mingling in the cold air, you couldn’t help but smile. “Well, if your mother approves…”

Leif laughed, the sound rich and warm. “You’re impossible,” he said, his forehead resting against yours.

“Would you have it any other way?”

No, I like you just as you are,” Leif whispers against your cheek, his breath warm, a stark contrast to the biting cold surrounding you.

“You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever laid my eyes upon.” His hands cradle your face, rough but gentle. “You drive me mad.”

Leif leans closer, his whiskey-colored eyes locked with yours, the intensity leaving you breathless. Your voice is soft, trembling with vulnerability. “If you’ll have me… let me have you.”

Your smaller hand rests atop his, your touch like a promise. “Yes,” he whispers, his voice cracking under the weight of his emotions. “Please.”

Tears glisten in his amber eyes, the sight tugging at your heart. “Leif, what’s-” Before you can finish, his lips crash against yours in a kiss so eager that you stumble backward, landing softly in the snow.

Leif follows, his powerful frame kneeling over you, his arms caging you in a desperate embrace. The world disappears as he holds you close, his warmth chasing away the chill. His grip is unyielding, as if letting go would shatter the moment.

“Do you trust me?” he asks, his voice deep with emotion. His gaze burns with admiration, a deep blush spreading across his sharp features.

You relax into his hold, a soft smile playing on your lips. “I trust you with my life, Leif,” you murmur, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders. Your fingers weave into his dark, dreaded hair, tugging gently.

A strained whine escapes him as he deepens the kiss, pulling you onto his lap. His large hands settle on your hips, guiding your movements as you grind against him, the friction igniting a fire between you.

“I need you,” he rasps, his voice breaking. His hands fumble with the buttons of your pants, trembling with urgency. The cold air bites at your exposed skin, but the heat between you burns hotter.

“You’re so wet,” he groans, his fingers slipping into your slick folds. His touch sends shocks of pleasure coursing through you. “Oh, goddess, you feel… incredible.”

You shudder, your breaths ragged as he pushes a thick finger inside you. His touch is careful, reverent, but it drives you wild. Your moans spill freely, your body arching into his.

“Leif,” you cry out, trembling as the pressure builds. “I’m going to- I need you, please-”

You come undone around his fingers, your climax washing over you in waves. The intensity leaves you reeling, your body quaking as you clutch onto him. He looks at you with awe, his lips parted, his cheeks flushed.

“I’m ready for you, my sunshine,” you whisper, your voice breathy but firm. Your hands wander beneath his shirt, caressing the hard planes of his chest, your fingers teasing his sensitive skin.

Leif whimpers, his resolve faltering. With shaking hands, he unbuttons his own pants, freeing his thick, blushed, aching length. “I’ll go slow,” he promises, his voice husky as he gazes down at you.

You nod, pulling him close and pressing butterfly kisses along his neck. His broad shoulders tremble as he lines himself up, sliding into you inch by inch. The stretch is exquisite, and the wet sounds of your joining make heat bloom across your skin.

“You’re so tight,” he groans, his movements slow and deliberate. “I… I won’t last.”

His moans only spur you on, your bodies moving in perfect rhythm. Each thrust brings you closer, your cries mingling in the cold night air. The world fades, leaving only the two of you, your passion raw and all-consuming.

As you both reach the edge, your release crashes over you together, the tension snapping into a wave of pure ecstasy. Leif buries his face in your neck, tusks brushing against skin, his breaths ragged, his body trembling against yours.

When the night grows quieter, Leif tenderly dresses your spent body, his touches filled with care. He lifts you into his arms, carrying you through the snow toward the safety of home.

There, by the crackling fire, he holds you close, his hulking frame a fortress of warmth and love. As sleep claims him, a soft smile graces his lips, contentment etched into his features.

Leif knows he has won your heart, and hold you love, just like him.

You’re his měsíční svit.

A/N: Take this as an apology for not posting in over two weeks ‹𝟹 writers blog kicked my ass. Happy New Year!!

Likes, reblogs, comments appreciated ‹𝟹 ˳ ׄ ⟡ .

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