#reader is good with kids

[hannie-roses]

First Time

Pairing: Nishimura Riki x fem¡reader

Sypnosis: Niki takes the initiative, guiding Y/N into an intimate world of exploration and vulnerability. As they share their first experience This is a short story of first love, where the thrill of losing their virginity intertwines with the discovery of trust and the intoxicating depth of their connection.

Warnings: oral, fingering, dick sucking. Loss of virginity, subtle degradation,nipple play, raw sex, use of the name daddy, hair pulling, rough sex.

Word count: 2,509

!MINORS DNI!

Niki's fingers traced gentle patterns across Y/N's skin, sending shivers down her spine. She was nervous, but also excited. This was their first time, and she trusted Niki completely.

"Relax," he whispered in her ear, his breath warm against her neck. "I've got you."

He began to kiss her, his lips moving slowly and deliberately across her jawline and down her neck. Y/N moaned softly, her body responding to his touch.

Niki's hands moved lower, exploring her body with a gentle yet confident touch. He ran his fingers over her breasts, his thumbs circling her nipples until they were hard and sensitive.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice filled with desire. "I can't believe I get to have you all to myself."

Y/N blushed at his words, feeling a rush of heat between her legs. She arched her back, pressing her body closer to his.

Niki took the hint and began to kiss his way down her body, his lips trailing over her stomach and down to the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. He parted her legs gently, his eyes locked on hers as he positioned himself between them.

"Are you ready for me?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Y/N nodded, her eyes locked on Niki's as he began to kiss her inner thighs. She could feel herself getting wetter and more aroused with every touch of his lips.

Niki continued to tease her, his tongue tracing delicate patterns across her skin. He could feel her trembling beneath him, her body responding to his every move.

"You're so responsive," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "I love how your body reacts to my touch."

He moved higher, his mouth hovering just above her clit. He could see how wet she was, and it made him even more excited.

He looked up at her, his eyes burning with desire. "Can I taste you?" he asked, his voice rough with need.

Y/N nodded again, her breath coming in short gasps as she looked down at Niki. She could feel her heart racing in her chest, her body aching for his touch.

Niki wasted no time, his mouth closing over her clit and sucking gently. Y/N cried out, her body arching off the bed as pleasure shot through her.

"Oh gosh," she gasped, her fingers tangling in Niki's hair. "That feels so good."

Niki hummed in response, the vibrations sending shivers down her spine. He began to move his tongue in slow circles, exploring every inch of her with a skillful touch.

Y/N moaned and writhed beneath him, completely lost in the sensations he was creating. She had never felt anything like this before, and it was almost overwhelming.

"Please," she begged, her voice trembling with need. "Don't stop."

Niki continued to lick and suck on Y/N's clit, his tongue moving with a skillful precision that made her toes curl. He could feel her getting wetter and wetter, her juices coating his lips and chin.

"You taste so sweet," he murmured, his voice muffled against her skin. "And your pussy is so good. I could do this all day."

Y/N moaned in response, her hips bucking up against his mouth. She was close, so close to the edge.

Niki could sense it, and he redoubled his efforts, his tongue working even faster and harder. He pushed two fingers inside her, curling them up to hit her g-spot as he continued to lick and suck on her clit.

Y/N cried out, her body shaking with pleasure as she came hard. Niki didn't stop, he kept going until she was trembling and gasping for breath.

As Y/N came down from her orgasm, Niki continued to move his fingers inside her, slowly and gently. He could feel her walls fluttering around him, still sensitive from her release.

"Your pussy is so tight," he murmured, his voice filled with admiration. "But my fingers are long enough to reach all the way inside you."

He began to move his fingers in and out, curling them up to hit her g-spot with each thrust. Y/N moaned softly, her body still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

"You're so wet," he said, his eyes fixed on hers. "I love how easily my fingers slide in and out of you."

He began to move faster, his fingers pumping in and out of her with a steady rhythm. Y/N could feel another orgasm building, her body tensing up in anticipation.

As Niki continued to finger Y/N, he could see the desire in her eyes. He knew what she wanted, and he was more than happy to give it to her.

He pulled his fingers out of her and sat up, looking down at her with a smirk. "I think it's my turn now," he said, his voice low and husky.

Y/N nodded, her eyes fixed on his hard cock. She had never seen anything like it before, and she was both nervous and excited.

Niki moved closer to her, positioning himself so that his cock was right in front of her face. "Open your mouth," he commanded, his voice firm but gentle.

Y/N did as she was told, opening her mouth wide and looking up at Niki with a mixture of anticipation and awe.

His cock was long and thick, with prominent veins running along the shaft. It was a beautiful sight, and Y/N couldn't help but feel a thrill of excitement as she looked at it.

Niki guided his cock into her mouth, letting out a low groan as her lips closed around him. She began to suck gently, her tongue swirling around the head of his cock.

"That's it," he murmured, his eyes fixed on her face. "Take me deeper."

Y/N took Niki's cock deeper into her mouth, her lips stretching around him as she tried to take as much of him as she could. She could feel him hitting the back of her throat, and she gagged slightly, but she didn't stop.

Niki moaned, his hands tangling in her hair as he watched her work. "You're doing so good," he praised, his voice thick with desire. "You're taking me so well."

Y/N felt a rush of pride at his words, and she began to move faster, bobbing her head up and down on his cock. She could taste the precum leaking from the tip, and it only made her more determined to please him.

Niki's grip on Y/N's hair tightened as she continued to suck him off, his hips bucking slightly as he tried to control himself. He could feel himself getting closer and closer to the edge, but he didn't want to come yet.

"Fuck, you're so good at this," he gasped, his eyes fixed on her face. "I don't want to come yet, but I can't hold on much longer."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes dark with desire. She pulled back slightly, her lips still wrapped around the head of his cock.

"Come in my mouth," she said, her voice hoarse from sucking him. "I want to taste you."

Niki groaned at her words, his body shuddering with pleasure. He couldn't resist her any longer.

"I'm going to come," he warned, his voice strained. "Are you ready?"

Y/N nodded, her eyes locked on his as she continued to suck him off. She was determined to make him come, to give him the pleasure he deserved.

With a low cry, Niki came, his cock pulsing in her mouth as he spilled his release down her throat. Y/N swallowed every drop, savoring the taste of him on her tongue.

Niki pulled out of Y/N's mouth and collapsed onto the bed beside her, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. He looked at her with a mixture of awe and desire, his eyes burning with intensity.

"You're incredible," he said, his voice filled with admiration. "I've never felt anything like that before."

He rolled over on top of her, pinning her down to the bed with his body. He began to kiss her, his lips moving hungrily over hers as he positioned himself between her legs.

Y/N moaned into the kiss, her body arching up against his. She could feel his cock pressing against her entrance, and she knew what was coming next.

Niki broke the kiss, looking down at her with a possessive gleam in his eyes. "Are you ready for me to take you?" he asked, his voice low and husky.

Y/N nodded, her eyes locked on Niki's as he positioned himself at her entrance. She was more than ready for him, her body aching with need.

Niki pushed inside her slowly, inch by inch, his eyes never leaving hers. He watched as her face contorted with pleasure, her lips parting in a silent gasp.

"You're so tight," he groaned, his voice strained. "You feel so good around me."

He began to move, thrusting in and out of her at a steady pace. He was gentle at first, but as he felt her body respond to his touch, he began to pick up the pace.

Y/N wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside her. She met his thrusts with her own, their bodies moving in perfect sync.

Niki's thrusts grew harder and faster as he continued to move inside Y/N, his hips snapping against hers with each thrust. He could feel her hymen breaking, the sensation sending a jolt of pleasure through his body.

"You're mine now," he growled, his voice filled with possessiveness. "I'm the first one to take you, and I'll be the only one."

He reached up and grabbed a handful of her hair, pulling her head back and exposing her neck. He began to kiss and bite at her skin, leaving marks that would surely bruise.

Y/N moaned in response, her body arching up against his. She loved the feeling of being dominated by him, of being completely at his mercy.

Niki's hands moved to her breasts, his fingers finding her nipples and pinching them roughly. Y/N gasped, her body trembling with pleasure and pain.

"You like that, don't you?" he whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "You like it when I play with your nipples."

"You're such a dirty girl," Niki said, his voice filled with contempt. "Look at you, taking my cock like a good little slut."

Y/N moaned again, her cheeks flushing with embarrassment and arousal. She loved the way he talked to her, the way he degraded her. It made her feel dirty and used, and she loved it.

Niki continued to pound into her, his hips slamming against hers with each thrust. He could feel himself getting close, but he wanted to draw this out as long as possible.

"I bet you've been waiting for this," he said, his voice rough with exertion. "Waiting for someone to come along and claim you. Well, you're mine now. And I'm going to use you however I want."

"You're so obedient," Niki said, his voice dripping with disdain. "You do everything I tell you to do. You're like a puppet, and I'm the one pulling the strings."

He leaned down and bit her earlobe, hard enough to make her cry out in pain.

"Tell me how much you love this," he demanded, his voice harsh. "Tell me how much you love being used by me."

"I-I love it," Y/N gasped, her voice trembling with pleasure and shame. "I love being used by you. I'm yours to do whatever you want."

Niki grinned, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. "That's right," he said, his voice low and menacing. "You're mine. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

He began to move faster, his thrusts becoming more forceful. Y/N could feel herself getting closer to the edge, her body tensing up with each movement.

"P-please don’t stop~" she begged, her voice barely above a whisper.

Niki pulled out of Y/N and flipped her over onto her hands and knees. He positioned himself behind her, his hands gripping her hips tightly.

"You're going to take it like a good little slut," he growled, as he slid back inside her. "And you're going to call me Daddy while I do it."

Y/N moaned as he began to thrust into her from behind, the new angle hitting her in all the right places. She could feel him pulling her hair, using it as leverage to control her movements.

"D-Daddy," she gasped, the word coming out in a stutter. "Please, harder."

Niki obliged, his thrusts becoming even more forceful as he pounded into her. He reached around and grabbed her wrists, pulling them behind her back and holding them there.

"You're so tight like this," he grunted, his grip on her wrists tightening. "I can feel every inch of you."

He leaned down and bit her shoulder, hard enough to leave a mark. "You're mine," he whispered in her ear. "And you're going to do whatever I tell you to do. Understand?"

Niki continued to pound into Y/N, his hips slamming against her ass with each thrust. He could feel her getting closer and closer to the edge, her body trembling with pleasure.

"You're so close, aren't you?" he taunted, his voice rough with exertion. "You're going to come for me, and you're going to scream my name when you do."

Y/N moaned in response, her face buried in the pillow. She was too lost in the pleasure to speak, but she couldn't deny the truth of his words.

Niki reached down and grabbed her hair again, pulling her head back so that she was forced to look at him.

"Say it," he demanded, his eyes blazing with intensity. "Say my name."

"N-Niki," Y/N gasped, her voice barely audible. "I'm going to cum. Niki, please."

Niki slapped her ass hard, the sound echoing through the room. "Louder," he commanded. "I want everyone to hear you."

Y/N cried out, the sting of his hand on her skin only adding to her pleasure. "Niki!" she screamed, her body convulsing as she came hard.

Niki continued to thrust into Y/N as she came, prolonging her orgasm as long as possible. He could feel his own release building, and with a final thrust, he pulled out cumming on her.

He collapsed onto the bed beside her, his chest heaving with exertion. He pulled her into his arms, holding her tightly against his chest.

"I love you," he whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "You were amazing."

Y/N snuggled closer to him, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her. She was sore and exhausted, but she had never felt so satisfied in her life.

"I love you too." she whispered back, her voice soft and sleepy.

Niki held her close, stroking her hair gently as they lay together in silence. He couldn't believe how lucky he was to have found someone like her.

[dykesevika]

real sevika lovers fw her dykeified karen cut

Men DNI

DO NOT use or repost my art without credit/permission

[zephyrchama]

🎁🥔

Beelzebub and Mammon made their presence very well known when they entered the living room, with heads held high and chests puffed out proudly. They were a little sweaty and disheveled but strangely upbeat. Beelzebub was clearly concealing something behind his back. Mammon had his nose pointed so far up, it was almost a challenge to the Avatar of Pride's moniker.

You looked up from the couch and asked, "What's up, guys?" Feeling for all the world like a kindergarten teacher about to play a game with their students.

"We got you something," Beelzebub said with a pleasant smile. It was almost entirely drowned out by Mammon's loud boasting.

"You won't believe what I found. You're 'bout to be real grateful, so get our praise ready."

They plopped down into seats on either side of you, Beelzebub careful not to jostle the mystery in his hand.

It wasn't every day they made a big deal out of giving you something. Normally, they'd just do it. Your interest was piqued. "What is it?"

They smirked at each other. Both demons wanted to drag out the suspense, but were also too impatient to wait much longer. Still in their school uniforms, they probably rushed straight home as soon as they procured their present. After grinning for several prolonged seconds in self-satisfaction, Mammon snapped his fingers dramatically. "Show 'em, Beel!"

Beelzebub placed the gift in your lap as if it were made of the finest glass.

It was a potato.

"A human world potato," Beelzebub explained, as if there was any doubt.

"Ya don't see this in the Devildom everyday. We thought you'd like a human treat every once 'n a while."

It was green and wrinkly, with multiple spuds sprouting out the top. It looked like somebody had dropped it behind a shelf and found it months later through smell alone. It was impossible to discern if it had been washed recently or if, at this point, the slimy and moist texture was just this tuber's natural state of existence.

Two sets of eyes filled with anticipation were locked on to your face, scrutinizing its every move. They were waiting for their shower of praise. You forced an awkward smile and laughed with strained excitement. "A potato! Wow, thanks guys!"

"What are you gonna make with it?" Beelzebub was eager to know.

"I'm not sure." You gazed at the gift. You kind of wanted to fling it off your legs before your skin started crawling. Though, you couldn't insult the brothers after their hard work. It was time to start lying through your teeth. "I'm so touched. Really. That you went and got... this potato for me. I kind of want to keep it as a memento!"

Mammon waved his hand to dismiss your idea. "Nah, don't hold back! I paid a pretty hefty sum to get a hold a' this, y'know."

Your heartstrings twinged with guilt. To avoid stirring Beelzebub and his endless stomach, Mammon leaned over towards your ear. "Fry it, bake it, boil it. It's all yours," he whispered. "'Long as you're happy, yeah?"

You were not happy. Every day with these demons brought a fresh source of stress. At least you were never dull.

"Solomon once said that green vegetables are good for humans," Beelzebub revealed.

You twirled your head around so fast that you accidentally bumped Mammon in the nose and asked, "You actually took food advice from Solomon?"

"Only after Belphie confirmed it," he clarified. So they did do their research.

While that was usually true, this was an incredibly unfortunate exception. You could not bring yourself to consume the sad green potato. You needed a new idea.

"Can human plants be cultivated in the Devildom? I want to plant this, and then we'll have more potatoes we can all share." The wet sensation on your leg only grew more unpleasant and you wanted to get rid of it as soon as possible. "Let's go plant it out back and see."

The siblings began talking over one again again, saying, "My human's got a heart of gold" and "I'd like that" while squeezing you with bear hugs from either size. It jostled the potato and you feared it would start leaking more.

"Let's go, let's go!" you ushered, eager to give this old vegetable a proper burial. You could vaguely hear Mammon brag to his younger brother, "I told you this was a great idea, they're gonna be thankin' us for weeks," as you raced towards the doorway.

[fanaticsnail]

"Good Boy"

Masterlist here

Word count: 3,200+

Synopsis: Eustass Kid didn't know exactly when it happened, but now he craves to be praised by you. He thrives beneath your words, but the one time you didn't call him a "good boy" has him in a bratty rage.

Themes: mutual pining, kid x gn!reader, fluffy, praise kink Kid, he just wants to be a good boy, no kisses just praise.

Notes: it's past 1am where I am, and I physically couldn't get to sleep until I got this request by @remisloves out of my mind. It's all about praise and softening rough characters lately with me. Good night everyone! Sweet blorbo dreams

Tag list: @sordidmusings @writingmysanity @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @feral-artistry @carrotsunshine

A shudder erupted from the base of Eustass Kid's spine to the top of his cranium. Downturning his chin, he attempted to disguise how wide his smile had risen to his lips beneath the shadow of his blast goggles. 

Never one to shy away from a challenge, Captain Kid pushed himself to the absolute limit to best his latest opponent. Blood dripping from his body, his bones bent to the point of nearly breaking. The weight of his metal arm overencumbered his body, his brute strength no longer enough to propel his legs forward. 

Successful at last, he claimed their loot in their vast treasury, selecting a few key pieces that caught his eye to present back to you: a former thief, his ships’ appraiser, and now his curator of chronological dialogue, items and routines. 

What would possess this hulking captain to risk his body and his crew to collect this small piece of art to present to you? Why would he ever risk such a heavy physical toll for a mere trinket? 

Because he was a good boy. 

And you always informed him as such.

While Kid saw no need for a chronicler initially, he very quickly warmed to the idea of maintaining one on his payroll. When Massacre Soldier Killer suggested a small snippet of their adventures be cataloged in journals, Kid never knew that reading the words back would prompt a rapid boil beneath his skin. A craving. A need. 

Seeing those words scribed on paper held him hostage. Those doting, praising, uplifting words that held such passionate composition regarding his exploits; they pushed him to go further, drive harder, propell longer in his adventures. This was all in an attempt to dream of seeing more of those beautiful words describing him articulated upon paper. 

Well, his exploits at least. 

Most of all, he craved to hear them depart from your lips. You managed to slip a single verbalized expression of praise once upon his return from doing a menial task. Since then, he was hooked on the rush it brought him. 

“Oh, wow! Captain, you've done so well! So unbelievably well!” was that first door opening to the praise he needed. 

That small snippet from you, was all well and good in his opinion. He did enjoy your recognition of his talent, but it was not what he craved the most. 

And what he wanted the most, was to be told he was, “a good boy.” 

He couldn't explain it, but the thought of hearing those words flee from your lips had his eyelids half-hooded, eyes glazed, pupils blackened and blown, and a droopy smile lazily draw itself up onto his lips. 

You had only ever come close one time to praising him personally, rather than the talent of his exploits. He felt the flutter of his heart rapidly igniting his veins with adrenaline, screaming with his eyes for you to utter the words he so desperately craved. 

And you said it. 

You finally said it today. 

His feet thumped upon the wooden deck, after he hoisted himself over the small opening on the side of the ship. The ‘away team' had finally assembled together and began greeting those who remained behind. 

Rushing to greet your Captain, he shot you a reciprocated, triumphant and winning smile, while happily presenting a small object up to you in the center of his right, flesh hand. 

“You found it? You actually found it?” your eyes widened, reaching your hand out to Kid's extended right palm. His body was still dripping with the blood of his enemies, a visible shake in his fingertips as he elevated the trinket up to you. 

“It nearly cost me my other arm,” he winced through the words, his forearm beginning to twitch beneath the strain of his exhaustion, “But I brought it back for you-...” he halted his words, pondering whether it was now time to make his affections known or not “...-to add to the collection.”

“For me?” your eyes widened, looking at the shiny and ornate gold filigree design. In the center of the flattened piece lay a single garnet: small, something one would cast aside should more items be presented. But to you, a prized piece in an antique collection you had been dedicating your life to find. 

“It's the missing piece, yeah?” Kid smirked, huffing through his words as the rest of the crew assembled atop the Victoria Punk, “The one you told us about last Friday?”

“Honestly, Captain, I don't remember half of what happened last Friday,” you confessed sheepishly, up turning your brows as your fingers brushed against his palm, “You'd think my liver would be able to tolerate being aboard your ship, drinking that slosh alongside the crew by now.”

He barked a cracked cackle at your confession, prompting your own to rise in your chest. His laugh was contagious, a laugh that could be felt through his whole body springing and vibrating up within your own. 

“Thank you, captain,” you expressed your deepest gratitude to the taller man, your head nodding in praise, “You don't know what this means to me.”

After a moment's pause, he looked down at the object before bringing his whisky-coloured eyes back up to meet with your own. He inhaled a shaken breath, baited and waiting within his lungs while anticipating his next words. 

“S-So,” he stuttered over his words, scolding himself under his own anxiety, “Did I do good? Is this the one you needed? Am I a-...” he didn't want to lead you into giving him the praise he desperately sought, but didn't want to not hear it either. 

With all the patience you could muster upon such a triumphant moment in your life, you prompted him with your eyes to have him complete his sentence. 

“...Am I a good-...” trying so, so hard to say the final word, he physically couldn't have them pass his lips, “...-Captain?” He mentally slapped himself, knowing that those were not the words he craved and how stupid that must've made him sound. 

You took a moment to carefully think about your next words, noticing how bruised he was, how bloody his knuckles were, how a lot of the crew that went with him on this private ‘away mission' were faring upon return. 

“Of course you are. You captain us extremely well, sir,” you uttered with a soft smile, “I'll adjust my findings accordingly in the journals, if I may be excused?” 

A small puff of air flew from his lips, defeat almost tangibly thick as it shrouded his shoulders with its presence. He looked away after giving his nod of dismissal, his gaze fixed on the wood of the deck below his feet. 

Your smile widened, claiming the object from his palm and holding your hand within his for a moment longer, before withdrawing completely. Fluttering your eyes over each fixed point of concern on his features, you searched for what his body seemed to be screaming for. 

Thanking him with a curt nod, you turned on your heel and abruptly halted your next step. 

At this moment, it fully dawned on you exactly the words your Captain wanted to hear. Eustass Kid, captain of the Kid pirates, champion and leader of the Victoria punk, devil-fruit user and wielder of Haki… had a praise kink. And he wanted you to praise him. 

A playful smile spread like warm honey up your cheeks, a scrunch in your nose as you rolled your next words over your tongue. You turned your head over your shoulder, guarding your intentions close to your chest as you spoke two words that almost had your Captain fall on his knees in gratitude. 

“Good boy.”

From that moment on, he was simply smitten. No matter what he did, whether it was aiding his crew with carrying supplies, carrying out great acts of violence, defending his Nakama from their enemies, or simply finishing his vegetables at meal time - he would look to you in anticipation, that anticipation being met with those two simple words. 

“Good boy.”

They echoed within his mind, swirling around within the chasms of his brain as slumber eluded him. He did not mind in the slightest having his lack of rest consumed with praises departing from your lips. 

Your voice plagued him, haunted him as a spectral ghost would hunt down their unfinished business. He did not mind such a haunting, in fact: he wanted more. He wanted to have more praise, more compliments, more of your verbal, beautiful words crying out from your perfect lips. 

He was smitten, completely smitten, by your compliments. The way your talented tongue made his name sound, the way your lips curved up in a knowing smirk each time you told him he was a ‘good boy.’

Until the day you didn't. 

Eustass Kid was in a foul mood, one that nobody knew the cause nor the cure for such a horrid, stampeding mess of a captain. Food, ales, meads, even gold - nothing appeared to pry him from his raging temper. Breaking tankards, tipping over tables, scattering documents on his captains’ desk, nothing was safe from the wrath he was wreaking on the furniture. 

Hunched over your desk, you continued cataloging and appraising the latest haul of trinkets and treasures thrust into your office. It was overwhelming for you, the sheer number of items scattered around your room. You attempted to alphabetize them, sort them accordingly and lump them into itemized piles. 

The toll the elevation of work raised onto your shoulders had you dismiss all those who presented you with various finds, including your Captain. He rocked on the ball and heels of his feet, eagerly awaiting and anticipating his sought-after praise - but found nothing but an anxious sigh and scratch of your neck in response to his hard labor. 

This was the reason for his intense rage.

After leaving your office, and selfishly paying no mind to your exhausted expression, he began to spiral.  

“He was so good. Why didn't you tell him he was? Was there something he could've done better? Something he could've pushed harder to strive for?” all circled within his mind as he tore piece after piece of his office apart. 

Several hours had passed, and you carved a hefty chunk of your work apart and managed to get a fair bit done. It was nowhere near complete, but it had you feeling a sense of anxious accomplishment. 

A knock at the door prompted you to raise your chin, eyes panicked and overwhelmed with the amount of work still required to be completed before mealtime. 

“Need help?” The light flickered off the cerulean and pearl colored mask of the first mate, who peeked his head around the doorframe. 

“Please,” you sighed, gesturing to your position kneeling on the ground beside you. Killer promptly entered your office, crouching beside you and sifting through the uncharted treasures still needing to be sorted. 

“What we up to?” he elevated his hand, gesturing out to the various piles in front of you both, “I think I see where they need to go. You written down them all?”

“All recorded in the book, down to the last drooped earpiece,” you confirmed, nodding to the mess in the center of the room, “They just need to be put in the right piles, locked in the treasury, and then we can call it a night. Maybe have an ale, if you're up for it, Kil?”

After a moment's pause, both of you rolling the items in your fingertips and placing them within the according: gold, silver, platinum, gemstone, raw material, ceramic, wearable materials, and weaponry piles. 

“Leave this with me,” Killer uttered, placing a throwing knife within the weaponry stack, “And you go and perform your other job.”

“What other job?” your brows knit with confusion, “I've already done the journalling of the exploits, the timetabling of the crew shift-changes, notarizing the stock we need within the kitchen-.”

“-Oh, no, buckaroo,” you could audibly hear the smirk behind Killer's mask as he teased you, “the other one. The one nobody pays you to do.”

“Which is, champ?” you taunted in return, nudging him with your shoulder roughly against his, “Be specific.”

“The one where you-...” he took this brief pause as an opportunity to sigh in huffed frustration, “...-where you tell our captain he's a good boy. Although, in his current state,” Killer rotated his neck to relieve the tension on his shoulders, “I might even go so far as to suggest you call him a bad one, considering that's exactly how he's behaving.”

Your confusion knit your brow down in the center of your face, your mind focussing on when the last time you praised the puppy you had turned your Captain into. 

“Oh, fuck! I didn't praise him when he brought in the loot!” your eyes widened in shock, promptly rising to your feet and brushing over your pants, “I just got so overwhelmed by the sheer bloody number, I couldn't think of anything else. Oh, I'm an idiot.”

“You're not an idiot,” Killer interrupted you, rising to his own feet and cupping your shoulders in an attempt to halt the rise in your anxiety, “Hell, you're not even dating him. It shouldn't be your job-,” he brushed over your shirt, adjusting the crumpled material to make it more appealing to the eye. 

“-Yet here you are,” he concluded, nodding at you before glancing down at the piles of treasure, “And here I am: the first-mate, the best friend, the confidant. The one who is unable to tear him away from his absolutely shit-house mood, because all he wants is you.”

You attempted to stifle the warm flush that drew itself up to your cheeks. Captain Kid was a tall, broad and intimidating man - those were the three assessments you initially made when you were hired to serve aboard the Victoria Punk. Then you got to know him, and were made privy to truly see who he was beneath the surface. 

The twinkle behind the feral rage, the purity in his unbridled emotions, the lack of restraint in all his advances: you adored him. When he began to seek out your praises, you were immediately swooning at his attention. 

He wanted your words, not just due to the fact words were your job, but because he wanted you to speak them. Just to speak his praises to be granted the luxury of a light tingle in his ears, a blush rise to his cheeks and a smile decorating his lips with such beautiful words. 

Now within the doorframe of your captain's office, you arched your brow and crossed your arms. Leaning on the wooden panel, you continued to watch his chest rise and fall with each exasperated and berzerk breath. Your eyes never left his body, each arch of his back and ripple of his muscles straining under the taut fabrics atop his shoulders. 

“All this because I didn't call you a good boy?” you addressed him in a low and dangerous tone. His feral eyes snapped over to you, widening as he truly witnessed the devastation in the destruction in his office. 

“You've been a bad boy, I see,” you continued in your dark tone, promptly stepping into his office and closing the door behind you, “Look at all this mess. Tsk, naughty.” 

The click of your tongue had Kid arching his back, straightening his spine as he bit back a soft whimper. His brows triangulated in the center of his face, bottom lip now quivering under the weight of your disciplinary tone. 

Circling his body, fingers brushing against his large right hand beside his hip as you leaned into him. You shook your head, stooping down and beginning to collect the paper, stationary, tankards, and paperweights that had been flung against the floor. 

Before you could say a following, disciplinary word, Kid immediately fell onto his knees and began hurriedly picking up the items he threw onto the ground beside you. 

“I-I’ll pick it all up,” he nodded his head as to confirm his words further, “I'll tidy up all this shit. Please, I-I’m sorry. I just-.”

“-Just wanted to be praised, hm?” you hummed at him. He hid his head from view, his painted lips pouting while his eyes held their attention firmly against the mess. 

He nodded, the weight of finally admitting his craving lifting off his chest and shoulders as he received the items you were holding atop the stack he was forming. 

“Tidy up your mess, handsome,” you smiled, elevating your right hand to capture his pointed chin within your thumb and index finger, “I'll watch every step you take, and let you know how good you're being, if you do it properly.”

Kid’s breath caught in his lungs, a pink dust settled against his cheeks and ears. He hurriedly rose to his feet, up-turning his askew desk and dusting off his captains’ chair. He extended it outwards, wordlessly and politely gesturing for you to take a seat. 

“My, my,” you commented, rising to your feet and accepting his invitation, “Such a gentleman, you're being. But, you've gotta’ work a little bit harder to earn that title you crave.”

Captain Eustass Kid was a dutiful, whimpering puppy under your watchful eyes. He was, almost, happily rearranging all of the objects he had thrown askew. He even took the time to appropriately categorize the pages he didn't complete prior to his little tantrum.

“Hm, very good. Well done picking up after yourself.” He blushed further at your words, but craved so much more. 

“Oh, look at how much time you're taking on that bookshelf. I can even see how clean you're making each of the panels. Look at you go, big boy.” That praise had him whimpering, his eyes fluttering shut as he continued to clean in silence. 

“So strong, picking up that heavy weight all by yourself. So proud of you.” He could not stop the audible gasp, nor the rush of blood seeping to places they had no business in flooding to at that moment. 

He completed all this while glancing over his shoulder and thriving beneath the giddy feeling rushing to his chest upon being the center of your unwavering gaze. 

Upon the last paperweight being placed and straightened atop his desk, he knelt between your knees and glanced up into your eyes. He looked innocent of all wrongdoing, all prior anger and malice fleeing from within his silent pleading. 

He was desperate for those words, those two simple little words that he so yearned for. Noseying up further between your knees, his shuddering metal and flesh hands cautiously placed themselves gently on your calves. 

Soft and slow circles were traced against your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as they began twinkling with hope. All his mind was screaming, silently and internally, was a simple repetition of: “Please, please, please. Say it, say it, say it.”

And you obliged him by leaning down, caressing his left, scarred cheek and drawing your lips close enough to taste the tingle of his breath upon your skin. Hovering before contact was made, you floated your gaze between his whisky-hued orbs and his parted lips with a soft smile. 

“Good boy.”

[yuwuta]

olympics coming up…… athlete aus on the mind….. satoru as a swimmer….. unreasonably large wingspan…. huge hands..... thinks “official” competitions and tournaments are boring because he can’t use the goofy purple googly eyes goggles he likes to practice in…… practices at ungodly hours solely because he likes when the pool is empty because that means you’ll dip your feet in at the edge and be there to greet him with a kiss when he’s finished his laps….. they bring up the stats board and it’s just his name ten times before the next fastest person and he could still lap them, and even tho he’ll always put so much pressure on himself to be the best, it’s worth it to have you hold his face and tell him you’re proud of him... he’s gotten so much merch from events and sponsorships and he used to think they just created clutter but that all changes when you start to wear his clothes (esp the ones with his name on it… he’s not proud to admit that does Something to him)…. always looks up to the stands when he finishes a race and if he knows you’re not there, he looks right at the camera, draws an infinity sign with his fingers, and blows a kiss (which, some commentators routinely call “unsportsmanlike conduct” but he doesn’t care, and always, publicly says he’ll pay the fees if it means blowing a kiss to his girl at home)

[nonranghaes]

changbin's voice is soft and muffled against the back of your shoulder. "this is going to sound silly, but..."

you raise your head with a soft hum, looking away from your book for just a moment. "you can sound silly with me, silly," you tease, just a little, because he's yours. the growing smile on his face tells you that more than anything else in this moment.

"i'm trying to be sappy," he complains, just a little, because he's yours and that's also his job just as much as it is to be silly with you. "your soup always tastes a lot better than mine does."

"better than your mom's?"

he doesn't say anything. he just squeezes you tight around your middle, face warm from what you can feel. you think it's him admitting that, yes, your soup tastes better than what his mom makes... but he lifts his head up, just enough that his voice is clearer. "you're equal."

you'll take that. it's honestly a great honor. "i won't tell her you said that."

"she knows," he says quietly. "because i talk about you a lot. it doesn't bother her." she knows i'm in love with you. that's why she's not offended, even playfully. "just don't brag."

you just smile a little. "noted. if it means anything... i think food tastes better when you cook it, too."

he just kisses the back of your shoulder, smiling against it. it's a lazy afternoon with him, the smell of spices hang in the air from the soup that's slow-cooking now, and you wouldn't want it any other way.

[catiuskaa]

sway with me —bf!minho thoughts.

A/N: the bf!thoughts series is finished! I’m so happy I could finish it. I had so much fun coming up with these lil scenarios. Feel free to check them all out, they’re all linked in my masterlist!

(because everyone loved chan's edition so much and it's really easy to get ot8 brainrot for headcanons and because i love my little bunny boy minho~!)

(this ended up being longer than expected lol)

minho, who’s been training all afternoon inside the company’s practice room. He feels sweaty as he pants, laying on the floor.

minho, who’s so comfortable resting on the wooden floor that doesn’t even bother to open his eyes when the door creaks open, a known silhouette entering with small steps.

minho, who can’t stop a small smile that creeps from the deepest parts of his body when he hears your soft tone of voice call his name, almost in a whisper. “Minho, baby? Are you awake?” For a moment, he pretends to be asleep, and relaxes his body, feeling you move closer to him.

minho, who snickers before lauching his body over yours, rolling on the floor with your body pressed tightly against his, and then stops, smiling from all your giggling when he pins you down.

minho, who gently lowers his head and stays right above yours, almost tempting you to move when he boops your nose with his, then tenderly leaves a shy kiss on your forehead.

minho, who gets too shy after that display of affection that he grins slyly, abruptly letting all his weight on you.

minho, who teasingly refuses to move from on top of you, a childish mockery that you cherish because of how sappy and cute he looks when he wiggles his eyebrows and raises his tone of voice, just like a toddler.

minho, who blushes furiously after you enticingly start peppering his face with kisses, unconciously leaning for more, but then, he reminded himself where you both were.

minho, who quickly rushes back to his feet as you cackle, still on the floor. “Yeah. Reeeeeeally funny.” He mumbles, not being able to cover his red-tinted cheeks or his flustered smile.

minho, who says he has to finish his training. “just one more time, jagi.” He claims, lying through his teeth.

minho, who only wants to dance again because he loves to feel your stare on him as his body moves to the music, smirking at you through the mirror when your cheeks turn slightly pink.

minho, who grins like a fool when you recognize the song and stand up from the sofa, cheeky as you laugh and state that you know this dance better than he does.

minho, who lets you have the spotlight as you laugh, making up moves as you dance, letting the rythm and the melody guide your way.

minnho, who loves to see you dancing anytime, not only because of how good your skills may or may not be, but because how cheerful you look.

minho, who finishes practice and gets home with you with a big smile on his face despite how draining training can get sometimes.

minho, who thinks the best part of the day is when he comes out of the shower and you smile at him, moving your paperwork somewhere else as you start heating up dinner for both of you.

minho, who backhugs you and moves his hand from your waist to underneath your shirt, a move not overly sexual coming from him, but rather one that makes your heart flutter.

minho, who slowly sways your body as he humms, happy that you like dancing and cooking with him, but even happier that you are here with him.

(aish it got so fluffy i almost cried abkdbakdjakd so cute i love minho ajdjajdjkadka —more incomprehensible sounds from cuteness overload—)

[bb-blu-love]

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆when the world is asleep⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

tags: idol!bangchan x reader, established relationship, fluff, slight hurt comfort (really just a couple doing their best in a bad situation), reader has ~anxiety~

3:00 AM in the quiet part of town is your favorite place in the world. On the outskirts of the city, where only families and old folks live and the streets are empty this time of night, you have found what seems like the only place in the world where you and Chan can feel truly at ease.

You’d been waiting for him to come over all day, so when he finally called around ten saying he just left the studio you became giddy with excitement that soon turned into anxiety. It’s not like he had never been to your apartment before or that you felt uncomfortable around him; it’s just that you can never shake the fear that this time is when everything will go wrong. That this is the night you’ll be caught by photographers or fans and soon everyone will know and your relationship will change forever. That your whole life could change forever. These worries echoed in your brain as you went down to the entrance of your building to let Chan in. 

Your nerves were obvious; you didn’t hug him as tightly as you wanted to--trying to maintain the illusion that you could just be friends should anyone see you--and your smile twisted into a grimace as you kept an eye on your surroundings.

The summer night air ruffled the hair that stuck out from his hat “Hey, Baby!” he said with a soft smile “You feeling alright?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I’m glad you could come over tonight,” You shyly smile, still not being able to shake the tight feeling in your stomach. 

He hummed a response and, sensing how on edge you were , looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was around before asking, “Should we go upstairs? I brought ice cream,” and lifted up a convenience store bag in his hand.

After heading up to your apartment the two of you spent hours just talking in your room. You were mostly catching up—you hadn’t seen each other in a couple of days due to your schedules—but eventually, it dissolved into a mess of inside jokes, you showing him all the Tik Toks you’d saved for him, him showing you videos of the boys messing around in dance practice in return, and whatever other nonsense made you both smile. Even though your relationship could be stressful, actually being with Chan was the easiest thing in the world. Honestly, you would be happy staying here forever; cuddled in his arms in the dim light of your bedroom, listening to his laugh get all squeaky as he worked himself up over some dumb video you won’t even remember in the morning. 

What you will remember, however, is how hot you are right now. Turns out your fourth-floor apartment with one broken AC unit could spell quite the sweathouse in the summer—especially with the amount of physical contact you two are prone to after some time apart. Chan had already shed his shirt sometime in between his first and second popsicle, and you had all of your fans on high pointed at your bed where you both laid tangled up with each other.

Chan, after finally calming down from his laughing fit, let out a sigh as he stared up at your ceiling. "You know I love you, right?"

"Yeah, why?" You asked, confused by his sudden declaration.

He continued quickly, "And you know that I really like coming over to your place-"

"Yeahh?"

"-because of the lack of roommates and overall better smell?"

"Also, I have HBO."

"Yes, also that—so will you not take offense if I, hypothetically, say that I’m going to die of heat stroke if I stay in here any longer?" He looked over at you with a rueful smile.

You laughed silently as you looked into his eyes. "I’ll go get my shoes."

He let out a triumphant "Yes!" and pumped his fist into the air as you got off of the bed, satisfied with the result of your banter. As you continued to get ready, he moved to the edge of your bed and was brought back to how anxious you seemed when he first arrived. "We don’t actually have to go out if you don’t want to, though," he said, scratching his arm as a nervous tick. "I know that we both get all paranoid when we’re not in private, and I don’t want to ruin the night or anything."

You turned to face him and put a reassuring hand on his arm, whilst you tried to shove your own concerns to the back of your mind."Don’t worry about it. I was thinking we could go to that one spot—you know, where we went on your birthday?"

"Yeah, that sounds perfect." He said with a relieved smile.

And that’s what brought you here; after checking for paparazzi from your apartment windows, and after you went outside and checked again, ensuring you both had your incognito face masks and baseball caps on. Finally, you were able to make the epic journey two blocks down and one over to a small playground surrounded by some trees and a fence: your safe haven. Taking in the warm night air as the wind lightly blows across your face--gently wicking the sweat on your brow--and hearing the leaves softly rustle as you both sit on the old swing set and let your legs dangle. You did what you loved to do most with each other: you talked.

"I’m sorry it’s always like this," Chan said as he looked at his feet, the toe of his shoes sputtering over the rubbery ground as he swayed, "that we can’t just get together and go to restaurants and the movies or—I don’t know— win you a big teddy bear at a carnival," he laughs half-heartedly, "or whatever regular couples get to do."

You smile sadly. "I’m sorry too. Maybe I’m just being overly cautious." 

He reaches over, grabs your hand, and rubs gentle circles on the back with his thumb, letting you know he isn’t mad and that he doesn’t blame you for anything. 

"I could tell the company, and they could release a statement or something." His tone hitches up at the end, almost like it’s a question—or maybe just the only thing he can think of to ease your guilt.

Not wanting to worry him, and always the best at avoiding the hard topics, you raise your eyebrows and sarcastically remark, "Oh yeah, and that would go over really well."

"Hm, yeah, you’re right. What do you think they would say, though?"

You lower your voice and attempt your best soulless executive impression. "'How could you, Chan?! You’re being so selfish by having desires and feelings! How do you expect us to monetize you when we can’t sell you as a fantasy boyfriend? Blargh rargh raa!'" You both chuckle at the absurdity of your situation: "And then of course you’ll get punished by your company, and everyone on Twitter is going to eat you alive when they find out, and you’ll get a tidal wave of hate thrown at you-"

"Oh, for sure." He nods along to your pessimistic prophecy (and excellent impression).

"-and I’ll be, like, assassinated by a bunch of teenagers whose identity hinges on the fantasy that they are secretly your one true love." You finish with a breathy chuckle.

He smiles at the ground. "Hey, Stays are much more than that," he says in an only half-serious defense.

"Heh, not the ones that I’ll have to deal with," you reply, almost to yourself. He seems to draw back at that comment, whatever clever response he had lined up dying on his lips.

You press your toes into the soft ground and push your swing over to his so that your shoulders touch. "I’m joking, Chan," you say in a soft voice.

"No, you're not." He shoots back in defeat. You sigh and try to meet his evasive eyes.

"You’re right, I’m not," you sigh, leaning in closer to him, "but that doesn’t mean I regret any of this. I can wish things were different while still loving how they are now." He finally meets your eyes, and his gaze goes soft. You share a fond look and, without words, reach an understanding: you're the best thing that has happened to each other, and eventually your love may see the light of day, but for now, just this is more than enough.

He brings your hand up to his mouth and lightly kisses your knuckles before letting your arms fall in between the both of you. "You’re right. I love this too. I’ll love anything as long as we can do it together." His words are full of tenderness and a rom-com sincerity that only he can do right.

"Except sit in my hot apartment." You smile as you lean towards him, and he smiles too as he goes in for a kiss.

"No, I loved that too. Just a little less than this." His lips touch yours, gentle and grinning, as your giggles float up into the night sky and you feel truly at ease once more.

[ylangelegy]

⋆.˚ childhood best friend ♡︎ chan.

── .✦ the one where bang chan learns what 'home' means. #우리의_찬란한_청춘_방찬에게 #BrightestStarBangChan

✰ gn!reader, idol!chan, fluff!!!, angst 🙁, childhood best friends, long distance friendship, homesickness, hurt/comfort, ambiguous romance [pining/crushes], open ending. end notes included! ❤︎ all sfw. intentional lowercase. wc: 1,800+

🧸 childhood best friend chan who moves in next door, who came from seoul to sydney and was scared he wouldn't meet anyone his age.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who is the only one to attend your birthday party. he flashes you a grin and tries to cheer you up by saying, "that just means more cake for us!"

🧸 childhood best friend chan who introduces himself as christopher— but you can call him chris, he says hastily. he knows his full name is too long. you assure him no, it's okay, you'll call him christopher. he rewards you with another one of his signature dimpled smiles. the first of many.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who spends most of his summers with you. his next door neighbor, his new best friend. he tries to teach you how to play soccer. you burn songs you think he'll like on to CDs. the two of you learn to bike down your street. see? you both still have the scars to prove it.

🧸 childhood best friend chan whose fondest memories with you are set in beaches. you're both still too young to surf, so you kill your time trying to outswim each other. it's a tender rotation of portraits— hands sticky with fruit-flavored ice cream, sand in your slippers, the smell of sunscreen.

🧸 childhood best friend chan slash guitar teacher. you spend one too many evenings out on his porch with his beat-up acoustic guitar. as his fingers gently guide yours over the strings, you consider romance. but for only a moment. because you'd rather have him like this than risk not having him at all.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who sticks to your side at school. everyone thinks you're dating; the two of you give up on correcting peers. chan doesn't quite understand why he's so happy to have people assume, and why he's even happier to have you acquiesce.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who tells you, first, about what he plans to do. "it's just an audition," he tells you, but you already know. you already know what he's destined for, who he's going to be, as early as then.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who practices his bruno mars audition song with you over and over and over again until you forget what the original version sounds like. nowadays, whenever you hear just the way you are, it's only ever in the voice of thirteen-year-old christopher.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who calls you up excitedly, who only says two words. "i'm in," he breathes, and there's so many things you can say in that moment. of course you are, and i never doubted you, and you're leaving me?, but instead you settle on, "i'm proud of you."

🧸 childhood best friend chan who doesn't cry at the family dinner. doesn't cry at the airport. he laughs when you tear up, teases that you're being silly. think of it as summer camp, he tells you, and when he hugs you goodbye, his hands shake just a teensy bit.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who cries on the plane— because at least, there, no one who loves him will see.

🧸 childhood best friend chan slash trainee who keeps in touch. he texts a lot in those first couple of years. you'd like this café. these cherry blossoms look really good. dance practice today was tiring. you learn to read between the lines; he is saying i miss you, but he cannot say the words themselves, because then it becomes real.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who never misses a birthday, whether its yours or someone in your family's. shipping fees are too stressful and so he perfects the art of long-distance gift-giving. here, an 8tracks playlist. here, a digital flipbook. here, a video of him singing your favorite song.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who gets busy, who gets frustrated, who watches dozens of trainees debut before him. you try your darnedest to sympathize but there is only so much that you can know about this industry, about his lifestyle.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who never blames you. how could he? he made his choice. but still. but still. there are days, weeks, months, where he forces himself to keep his distance. because this is a whole other kind of hurting— saying goodbye and knowing that the door is still left open a crack.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who watches your life in pictures, in the squares of instagram photos, the tagged posts on facebook. you graduate high school, and then uni. you work part-time jobs. you finally learn how to surf. and he is proud, and he is hurt, and he is yours, still, in ways that neither of you can comprehend.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who, after being distant for what feels like forever, extends an olive branch in the form of a follow request. finstas are only just becoming a thing in his part of the world. every trainee has one. the first person he thinks to follow is you.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who starts reacting to your stories, who replies every so often. your haircut looks nice and how's your mum? and wow, that part of town has changed a lot. it's all so stilted, all so polite, but he's trying, he's trying, he's trying. he needs you to see that.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who finally calls you one evening to tell you everything. you are horrified by what he's gone through, by all the times he's been passed over, but chan reassures you. even as you apologize, again and again, for not knowing.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who tells you, "i chose this. i want to keep choosing it. but—" a beat. then, softly, the words he's held himself back from saying. "i just miss you, that's all."

🧸 childhood best friend chan who slots right back in to your life. he's still plenty busy. at least now he knows that you're always just one message away, that you'll appreciate his updates of i met another aussie today or there's a new day6 song or i can finally stop dieting.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who excitedly tells you about 3racha. about his genius lyricist j.one and his killer rapper spearb. his own moniker is plain and simple, he says with a laugh. cb97. but it's him, it's his, it's a start.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who sends you the first demo of a song he's genuinely happy to have produced. my heart is in your hands, he jokes in the e-mail subject line. j.one is good. so is spearb. but chan, cb97, your christopher, who sings "i'd like to start off this speech with a 'thank you' to everyone that helped little chris to grow up"? he's everything.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who tells you in vague terms that he might not be reachable for some time. there's a lot of things he wants to tell you, wants to divulge. there are other people on the line, now, though, and so he holds back. you understand. you tell him you'll wait. he is so, so grateful.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who is introduced as the leader of JYPE's newest boy group. he is not christopher or chris. he is chan, now. bang chan. you watch the survival show with his family. you give them a handwritten letter for him, when they go to visit him in south korea. you see him become everything he said he would be.

🧸 childhood best friend chan whose hair is two-toned dirty blonde and aqua blue when he debuts with hellevator. you buy his photocard. you still have it up in your room; it makes him cringe, but he is secretly pleased that you cared enough to do such a small thing.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who bears the weight of impossible expectations. leader, producer, idol. son, brother. friend. he is so many things all at once. they say he is too much. they say he is not enough. he doesn't know who to listen to.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who blames himself for things that are beyond his control. for 2019. for 2020. for 2021. for— there isn't a year where chan isn't blaming himself for something, really.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who finds comfort in the smallest of things. a noisy dorm with seven other boys. the thrill of turning a note in to a living, breathing song. you. your little updates. you. your easy responses. you. your unwavering support. you, you, you.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who wonders often sometimes what it would have been like if he stayed.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who can see it so, so clearly. the college you would have both gone to. working at the record store; busking in the mall. summers of surf and sun. your fingers fitting in to the spaces between his.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who thinks he would have been happy with that life. happier than right now?... he's not sure. all he knows is that he would have been happy. the two of you could have been so happy.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who often sometimes feel like his youth was taken from him. his teenage years were spent as a trainee; his early twenties were spent fighting for every scrap. he doesn't regret the choices he made. he doesn't want to. he can't.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who doesn't tell you any of this. a part of him doesn't have to. you know just how much he gave up. you know just how much he gained. you know why there are certain encores that make him cry, why there are songs he can't bear to perform live. why it's always so hard for him to name 'home' nowadays—

🧸 childhood best friend chan who wants to believe that 'home' means sydney. who, to make things easier, says 'home' is seoul. who will sometimes say that 'home' is STAY, 'home' is stray kids. who knows, deep down, that home is a three-letter word of y-o-u.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who, when he makes his way back to sydney, is scared shitless. he's been gone for so long. it's an endless litany of 'what if's. what if berry doesn't recognize him anymore. what if all his favorite restaurants have shut down. what if you realize you don't like the person he's become. what if, what if.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who is only partially reassured when he realizes there's still a spot for him at the dinner table, when his old friends don't treat him any differently, when the path to the park still feels familiar.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who realizes that all of his worries are unfounded when you greet him with "long time no see, christopher." not chan. not chris. christopher.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who smiles the same way that he had when he first met you. all bright eyes and dimples.

🧸 childhood best friend chan who holds out his hand, waiting to see if you'll take it.

✰ i think a lot about a line in The Myth of Sisyphus, where it goes something along the lines of "one must imagine sisyphus happy." in some way, this is me #coping (lol). one must imagine bang chan happy. because maaan, does he deserve it. happy birthday, chris.

[ariiadnes]

╭ ⿻ ･ 0713

ଓ.° ・ simon riley. call of duty. family fic -- simon and reader have a daughter. may as well make this an unofficial series ～(　TロT)σ every day i am victim to the delusions !!

when you first met simon, you quite honestly did not think you'd end up having such a domestic life with him. you've known each other for a long while, been together for less. you've seen each other go through hell and back, worry for each other's safety and return, and here you are now, with a daughter that is exactly like him.

kind of. mostly, you'd say.

personality? absolutely. quiet, reserved-- her, mostly in the sense that she's shy. him, in the sense that he just doesn't like talking to people very much. but quiet all the same, you suppose.

appearances? oh, one hundred percent. brown eyes, brown hair. sharp gaze. you don't know how a two year old has a sharp gaze, but she does.

little quirks? you suppress a sigh just thinking about it. wherever you are, simon is. he's practically your shadow-- so what's your daughter? his shadow. so basically, in summary : anywhere you go? have no fear, you will never be alone. ever.

oh, forgot something in the bedroom? just turn around and you'll face-plant into your husband's chest, and when you recover, you'll see your daughter peek out from behind his leg to see what all the ruckus is. oh, you're going to do laundry? forget the television, make it a group effort instead. grocery shopping? no need to split up to make it faster. he's mapped out the most efficient route around the store to knock out this trip in less than an hour.

yeah. they're weird. but you love them, so it's okay.

you'd like to think that nothing surprises you at this point, until today -- when you're tending to the house, bright and early, only to see a certain half awake toddler and her dad standing in the living room. you pause for a moment, mildly surprised that she's already up. you don't say anything-- just watching, as they haven't noticed you around the corner of the hallway quite yet.

"papa."

"munchkin."

silence. like, a long silence. your brows furrow, and you can't help but tilt your head in confusion and curiosity as you witness the strange phenomenon that is your family. she closes the distance, looking up at him. and in return, he looks down at her.

and they just stare at each other. in even more silence. for a good few minutes. not a single word exchanged. you're just so confused by this interaction that you're about to speak up, but then she raises her arms, and just like that, he picks her up, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead-- his usual good morning greeting to her, you've come to notice.

you stand there in the hallway, confused as ever, as he walks off to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for her. you have no idea what that was. you blink a few times before shaking your head, joining him in the kitchen to help with the morning prep.

-- so naturally, when night comes, the little one is sleeping, and you're laying in bed next to simon, you can't help but ask:

"what the hell happened this morning?"

he pauses at the sudden question.

"you burned the pancakes, dove."

your eye twitches.

"i did fucking not." you roll your eyes, though you don't put up any resistance as he pulls you closer to him, an arm draped over your waist. "i'm talking about your little stare down today. what was that?"

simon stares blankly at the wall in recollection of the event. a moment or two, then a slow shift in his gaze as he looks at you.

"-- just had a bit of a chat."

"...you both said one word each."

"said it was a bit, didn't i?"

oh, insufferable. weird and insufferable. you give him a deadpan stare, in which he returns full on-- and now you're stuck in a silent staring contest with him. as much as you'd love to try and redeem yourself from the losing streak you've maintained all these years, you understand that one : it is midnight, and you would like to not stay up until three in the morning only to lose, and two : you should be realistic and know that you'll never win.

"stop that." you grumble, hand covering his eyes. "she's gonna pick up on that and start staring into people's souls. it'll freak them out."

he chuckles softly, moves your hand away before lacing his fingers with yours, lips gently trailing down your neck. "not a bad thing. instills fear."

"...i would really like you to not encourage our two year old daughter to instill fear into people, simon riley."

a faint hum of acknowledgement and amusement, then another kiss along your jaw, the corner of your mouth, then your lips. he can't help but notice the feeling of your smile despite your disgruntled words, and he thinks he loves you all the more for it.

"i'll consider it, love."

[takamimami]

I am a fucking idiot my brain clocked out while I was reading the prompts

All Angst;

2, 8, 11.

All with both Law and Kid (seperate)

Hello, my dear. Thank you for the request! I have been needing to crank out some good old heart-wrenching angst, so this request was much appreciated!

That being said, I am a sucker for both Kidd and Law, so this will be a two-parter - sorry to keep you waiting :3 but I promise there will be plenty of angst and smut in the next part, so hopefully it is worth the wait <3

Kidd/Law x F!Reader - SFW - "Please don't talk about yourself like that." - STORY UNDER THE CUT CW: ANGST; kidd is prideful and stubborn, law is moody and sensitive, crew mate!reader ---word count ~1k each

A simple comment about him controlling his temper was all it took to have you and your captain at each other’s throats. You couldn’t understand how he could be so brazen and hot-headed when danger stared him in the face, and he didn’t give you a chance to explain where your concerns stemmed from before he dismissed them completely, his stubbornness rearing its ugly head as he cut you off in the middle of your sentence.

“I don’t care to hear anymore, Y/N. I am the captain of this crew, and I will handle things my way. The pirate I am has gotten our crew to where we are so far - so if you have a problem with the way I handle things…”

🌷

“...Either keep it to yourself or get lost!”

You barely heard the words leave his mouth as he stared down at you, chest puffed out and breathing heavily as he yelled. Your eyes burned, but you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing how hard his words hit you. Instead, you looked over to Killer - who normally played peacemaker between the two of you during your squabbles - to find him rubbing his temples as Kidd turned and stormed away from you, leaving you standing in the middle of the deck. Unbeknownst to you, Quincy was also lurking near the stairs to the helm, witnessing the fall out of what started out as a heart-to-heart with your captain.

You let the first sob shake your shoulders as the door to Kidd’s workshop slams shut, and Quincy and Killer are immediately on you, both of them reaching a reassuring hand to your shoulders. You brush away from their touch, storming to the bow of the ship to get away from everyone, feeling your chest tightening as you struggle to draw in breaths.

To your surprise Quincy follows you, lingering a few feet from where you grip the railing, trying your best to level your breathing as tears continue to sting your eyes. She doesn’t say anything, not wanting to leave you alone, but also not wanting to impose on your space as you try to settle your mind.

“He didn’t mean it,” she says softly, shifting closer to you as you turn and lean against the railing, keeping your eyes on the ground as she approaches.

“Yes he did,” you murmur, feeling the familiar self-doubt creep into your mind as you think over the argument that just occurred. “He’s always told me I’m too emotional for this lifestyle, so maybe I don’t belong here after all.”

Quincy flinches at your words, reaching her arms out and pulling you into a hug by your shoulders. “Don’t talk about yourself like that, Y/N,” she chastises, pulling away to look you in your eyes as she continues. “Kidd is just… emotionally constipated. Like, all the time. He views emotions as a sign of weakness, and he doesn’t realize that if everyone on this crew acted as irrationally as he did, we wouldn’t have made it this far.”

You hold back the new tears forming in your eyes as you look at Quincy, talking in her words as she offers you a gentle smile. 

“C’mon,” she nudges, “I know where Killer keeps his comfort snacks.”

She giggles as your lip curls into a smile, following her to the kitchen and immediately feeling a lump in your throat as you open the door to Kidd and Killer arguing in the kitchen.

Kidd’s eyes flick over to you, not even flinching at your disheveled appearance before he returns his gaze to Killer, who looks exasperated as he nudges his head in your direction. 

“Apologize.”

Killer’s authoritative voice makes you flinch as you keep your eyes on Kidd, his throat bobbing as he holds Killer’s glare. 

“Last time I checked, I am the captain of this crew,” he says between gritted teeth. He turns his gaze to you, eyes fiery with rage as he grows more defensive by the second. “And I don’t recall one of my responsibilities as captain to be coddling my crew when they don’t get their way.”

You feel your jaw tense at his words, and before you can swallow down the retort you take a step forward and press your hands to the counter. 

“Stop acting like a self-righteous prick, Kidd,” you snap, feeling the rage bubbling up from your gut as you lash out at him. “I only said what I did earlier because… I love you.”

The last words leave your mouth quieter than the previous ones, your voice cracking from the vulnerability behind them. This was only the second time you’d dare utter the words to Kidd, the first time you had been the day he lost his arm - when you weren’t sure he would make it. The two of you hadn’t spoken about it directly, but you knew Kidd was mindful of the way you felt for him, at least you thought that was the case until today.

You can feel Killer and Quincy tense as Kidd’s stance sharpens, his lip curling as if he were going to snarl at the words leaving your mouth.

“I didn’t ask you to love me.”

Your breath hitches as you hear the words hanging in the air, the weight of them bearing down on your shoulders as the tears burning your eyes begin to fall. 

Kidd looks away, almost wincing at your reaction as he speaks again.

“I am the way that I am, Y/N. You of all people should know this,” he grunts, moving from his spot across the kitchen and heading towards the door. “I don’t need any of you trying to change me or tell me what I should be doing.”

With that Kidd kicks open the door to the kitchen and stomps away, back out onto the deck. 

You try your best to hold in the sobs as you saunter over to the door, desperate to go curl up in your bed and try to sort through your thoughts. 

“Y/N,” Killer calls to you quietly, causing you to pause at the door as you try to muster the strength to answer him. 

Your lip quivers, the hole in your chest growing as you hear Kidd’s words echoing through your mind, and instead of saying anything you just look back at Killer. The pain in your eyes must have said enough because his shoulders slump as he watches you leave the kitchen.

Your vision blurs as you disappear below deck and into the women’s quarters, grateful that no one was around to hear you as your sobs rock you into a fitful sleep.

🐯

“...Maybe it's time to re-evaluate your position on this crew.”

You could feel your nails digging into your palms as you squeezed your hands into fists at your sides, feeling that familiar burn in your eyes as you watched Law resume wrapping the wound on his arm. 

He winces as he struggles to lift his shoulder, and you instinctively lunge towards him to assist him with wrapping the wound, your jaw tight as you work in silence. You fought the urge to tie the bandage too tight in retaliation as Law watched you work, his eyes softening ever so slightly as he took in how your delicate hands traced over his skin.

The door to his office swings open behind you as you finish tying off the gauze, and Bepo strolls in and drops a stack of paperwork onto Law’s desk before turning it over to the two of you. 

“Captain,” he says wearily, nodding awkwardly as he feels the tension in the air between the two of you. “Shachi and I are done sorting through the documents you brought back, and these are the ones that looked the most promising.”

Law turns his attention from you to Bepo, and you take the opportunity to shift away from him, shuffling towards the door in an attempt to dismiss yourself. 

“Y/N,” Law’s stern voice cuts through the air, Bepo flinching a bit as he casts a sympathetic gaze your way. “We’re not done, here.”

You squeeze your hands again, feeling your palms sting as you stop halfway through the doorway. You breathe in deeply before looking over your shoulder at him, his brows furrowing as he catches your heated glare.

Bepo salutes awkwardly as he shuffles towards the door, distress evident on his face as he disappears back down the hall, leaving you alone with Law once again.

You turn around and lean against the wall, eyeing Law from across the room as he hobbles over to his desk, skimming over the papers that Bepo left as he contemplates the next thing to say.

“I don’t appreciate being questioned, Y/N,” Law murmurs, eyes lifting to meet yours as he sits down behind his desk. “At the end of the day, the crew will do as I say, and I will take whatever necessary measures are needed in order to ensure we are successful.”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms over your chest as you refocus on him. “So we are supposed to just stand idly by while you make reckless decisions, regardless of how risky they are? You expect your crew to just sit back and be yes-men?”

He grimaces at the tone in your voice, his eyes dropping back down to the papers on his desk. “I want my crew to trust me, and not question their captain’s decisions.”

“Well, I can’t do that, Law. Not when I care about you this much.” You feel your breath catch in your throat and your pulse rise at the realization of your admission. 

Law’s hand tightens on the edge of the table, and his eyes shoot back up to meet your heated gaze. “If you can’t trust me, Y/N, then why are you part of this crew?”

You suck in a shallow breath at Law’s question, wondering if he was asking it to you or to himself. 

“If you don’t want me here, just say that,” you say through clenched teeth, dropping your chin to your chest as you feel your eyes begin to burn.

Law grimaces, still holding firm as he keeps his gaze on you, “Your words, not mine.”

Not an admission, but his answer leaves little room for comfort as you slowly release the breath you had been holding. You can feel your pulse in your temples as you do your best to fight off the tears, turning away from Law and storming out of the room as you feel the first one slip through your lids.

You waited half a beat for him to call out to you, to come rushing after you to offer you the reassurance you were seeking - that he wanted you on his crew. But Law remained in his office chair as your trembling legs carried you down the halls of the polar tang, stopping as you round the corner to release the pressure building in your chest. A sob rakes through your body, your throat immediately going raw as the tears spill faster and faster. You bring a hand to your mouth to keep the sound from reaching your crewmates down the hall, ducking into the small corridor that leads to the small women’s quarters. 

You quickly enter the room and shut the door behind you, leaning your head against it as your sobs intensify, the sound vibrating off the walls of the empty room. You turn and lean against the door, sinking down to the floor and holding your knees to your chest as you try to get a grip on the emotions swirling through your chest. You hear footsteps approaching from down the hall and try to muffle the sounds of your cries, but Bepo’s soft knock at the door for some reason brings a whole new wave of emotions washing over you. 

“Y/N,” he calls gently through the door. You drop your head down onto your arms and continue sobbing, letting the pathetic sounds tell Bepo everything he needs to know as he lingers on the other end of the door.

“I’m fine, Bepo,” you croak, knowing you don’t sound anywhere near as convincing as you wanted to. “I’ll be gone soon, so you and the others won't have to worry about me. I’m sure you’ll find someone better suited for this kind of thing anyway.

Bepo leans into the door, wishing he could somehow offer you an embrace through it.

“Please don’t say that, Y/N. We need you.” 

Silence is all you can offer him as your eyes begin to burn again, fresh tears cascading down your face.

He stands there for a while before giving up, realizing you need this time to be alone as he places a supportive paw on the door opposite you before walking away. His footsteps disappear down the halls, leaving you alone with your thoughts - the sound of Law’s voice haunting your dreams as you slump onto the cold floor.

Part Two

100 Follower Event Masterlist ✨come say hai :3✨

[otaku553]

I have an agenda.

Long hair teenage sabo.

[spideyhexx]

very very short not finished billy thing🫶

"Billy, quiet," you whisper out in a harsh tone as he mouths at your neck.

He's not even in you, but the friction of rubbing his crotch right to your thigh has him letting out sounds that cannot be heard by party going on downstairs.

You'd think a wanted outlaw in what, two, three states would know how to be quiet, but clearly you break that skill of his.

"'M tryin'," Billy grunts out, pushing up the heavy fabric of your dress, then letting you hold it.

He's quick with his belt, your eyes trained on the door like you're expecting it to open.

"No, look here," Billy mumbles, his hand cradling your jaw and directing your gaze back to him. His lazy eyes set on you, his lips parted and pecking at your chin before he tilts your head down so you can see his achingly hard cock.

You let out a breath and he chuckles, moving as close to you as he can, hiking your leg up around his waist.

Once again, the moment his tip slides against your cunt, Billy's moan is a little too loud and you shush him.

"I know, I know," he grumbles, clearing his throat, and easing himself into you, both of you letting out strained breaths.

Billy gives you a moment, before his hips start to move.

[planetpedri]

perhaps a blurb ab kenan where he comes over for a dinner with her family and she can have a little sibling/cousin and he’s just smiley + makes them laugh and she’s like ohhhhh my god right okay. im screwed. LMK.

My love all mine — Kenan Yildiz.

Pairing: Kenan Yildiz x Fem!Reader

Summary: Kenan’s always got nervous during dinners with your family, but this time seemed to find solace with your nephew though, and watching their interactions had left you certain he was going to be the man you marry.

Word count: 368

Disclaimer/s: none just pure fluff <3

A/N: im so ill don’t EVEN. this is such a small blurb buttt

Playing with the hem of your dress, you glance at your quiet boyfriend. A small bead of sweat trickling down his forehead as he tries to keep conversation with your parents. A small smile makes its way onto your face as you slip your fingers through his, giving it a tight squeeze of reassurance.

Kenan glances at you, his dimples showing as the corner of his lip tugs into a wavering smile. His eyes pleading with you silently, make it stop.

“Mom, dad..” You drawl out, “leave him alone, it’s been an hour. Give him a break.”

Your parents finally relent, but not without matching eye rolls. “We just want to get to know him!” Your mother persists, only stopping when you give her a look.

With your parent’s attention stolen to your sister, who was asking for help to get more juice. Your savior herself. For that, you give her a grateful smile, she simply winks in return.

Turning your attention back to your boyfriend, you find him deep in conversation with your sister’s son, Danny. You watch as Kenan makes a dramatic wide eyed expression. Danny is giggling as he shows Kenan something in his palm.

The sight of Kenan with kids, wasn’t unfamiliar with you. You’d seen him with young fans before, and although adorable.. you’d never seen him like this. Playful and giddy and with your own family.

Eye’s softening, you watch quietly, observing. It isn’t until your parents are back, their own smiles on their faces as they watch the interaction.

Your mother gives you a teasing look, mouthing, ‘marry him. Please.’

Shaking your head humorously, you laugh under your breath. But in the back of your mind, you couldn’t help but imagine it all. A life with kids, you and him. You smile at the thought.

A gentle squeeze to your hand pulls you back to reality and you face Kenan, “what?”

“I asked what you were smiling about?” He chuckles seeing the confusion on your face, “you were staring at your plate..?”

Blinking slowly, your eyes flicker across his face. “Nothing, I just love you, that’s all.” You grin from ear to ear.

Kenan mirrors your expression, “I love you too.”

DTS , @halfwayhearted

[lostreverb]

DAD!RALPH BOHNER HEADCANONS

a/n: if we're gonna call him a dilf might as well write about it! also he gives girl dad vibes so we're going with that! AND SORRY ABOUT THE ANGST I'M LIKE ADDICTED TO WRITING IT

warning: mentions of PTSD, swearing

--

• you and your four year old daughter were coincidentally on a trip to visit family when the hex happened, your husband ralph couldn't get out of work but insisted you go without him

• after everything, ralph's mental state was so poor he had to quit his job, so instead of having a nanny, ralph becomes a stay at home dad while you work

• you were reasonably uncertain if ralph was mentally stable enough to take care of a child as well as himself but he insisted he's capable

• loves you and his daughter more than anything in the world

• calls her "bub, hon, sweetpea, babygirl, little gremlin, kiddo"

• is very protective of his family (especially after the hex)

• he buys everyone evil eye necklaces and makes you wear them to keep you safe

• doesn't sleep much anymore unless he's napping with his daughter

• it's quite literally the only time he gets any kind of peaceful sleep

• you had definitely spent an entire year trying to get her sleep on her own but that's out the window now and she'll only sleep in your bed

• on the occasions he does try to get a full night's rest, ralph still gets nightmares. but when he wakes up in a sweat, seeing "his girls" cuddled up with him calms him down, sometimes enough to where he can go back to sleep

• your daughter adores her dad's grown out curls, and often raves about how they look just like hers (compared to the cropped hair he had before) and mindlessly plays with his beard when they're sat on the couch watching TV

• does funny voices when he reads stories to her

• lives for hearing + making her laugh with corny jokes (btw she thinks he's the funniest person in the world)

• practices his one man show for her and the reason you know is because she'll try and recite certain plot points to you as if that's something that happened to her

• ralph forgets to eat but when he does, it's often just whatever your daughter doesn't finish of her food or he raids the fridge at 3 am

• generally his diet consists of celsius and half eaten dino nuggets

• sends her to preschool with totems he makes for show n' tell

• you got a call at work once because she did the black magic warding chants ralph taught her with an animal skull totem and it scared some kids and made them cry

• according to your daughter it was only "like 2 people" who cried and assured you that everything was fine b/c the rest of the class thought she was "the awesomest"

• you have to tell her to stop going around telling people her dad is an expert in "getting rid of witches" b/c they think she means "bitches"

• whenever you come home to seeing your daughter sat in ralph's lap at his computer, he tells you he's just working on his one man show but he's really on reddit and other forums teaching her how to protect herself from witches

• has learned well how to dress his daughter but b/c of his sketchy appearance sometimes ppl think she's been kidnapped, especially if she starts to throw a tantrum in public and you're not around

• cared very much for billy and tommy b/c they reminded him of his daughter

• there's been times where he's particularly struggling with his PTSD and accidentally scares her and it breaks his heart

• despite this, she'll come over and try to cheer him up with one of her stuffed animals and hug him or do one of the chants he taught her because that's what her idea of protection and safety is

-----------

ANGST DRABBLE

ralph sits with his head in his hands, distraught. he had another episode, this time in front of his young daughter. seeing the look of shock and fear on her face broke his heart.

those damn witches had hell to pay for what they've done.

"daddy?" he hears a small voice say. ralph's head shoots up. his daughter, holding her favorite teddy bear (which she renamed "papa bear" after noticing how closely his new look resembles the stuffed animal) walked up to him. her eyes are still a bit glossy, but she's smiling regardless.

"hey hon..." ralph speaks softly, reaching out to stroke her hair. "what have you got there?"

she puts the teddy into his arms, searching his face for a reaction.

"is.. this for me?"

she nods and ralph gasps holding it tight.

"oh wow, thank you babygirl- c'mere-"

he pulls her in for a deep embrace, kissing her head and whispering that he's sorry and that he loves her so much. a tear falls down his cheek as he holds her small body against his, hearing her say "i love you more, daddy!" in that sweet tone of hers.

it takes everything in his power not to completely break down.

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

FLUFF DRABBLE

after finishing dinner, you walk up the stairs, hearing the sound of chanting coming from the bedroom.

"close! remember kiddo you've got to do it twice for it to really work so let's go again- OUMMMM-"

"mommy!" at the sight of you, your daughter jumps off ralph's lap and throws her little arms around your legs.

"hi!" you respond enthusiastically, hugging her back. "just wanted to let you both know dinner was ready. what are you guys... up to?"

ralph avoids your eyes by pretending to look around the room. your daughter smiles up at you, bursting with excitement.

"daddy was teaching me-"

ralph interrupts. "dinner's ready? oh, you have perfect timing babe we're starving- uh kiddo? why don't you go wash your hands?"

"ooookayyyy!!" your daughter skips out of the room, curly ponytail swinging back and forth in time with her steps.

"again? ralph we talked about this-"

"i know, sorry..." he sighs. you notice his eyes linger on your chest.

"like what you see?" you tease, wiggling your eyebrows.

"no-! i mean- yes, of course but- you're not wearing the necklace..." he pouts.

you roll your eyes and reach into your shirt to pull the chain out.

"oh- my bad"

"yeah- now mr. bohnerrific69, could you please tell my husband that dinner's ready and he needs to actually eat tonight? because a whole pack of oreo's is not a sufficient meal."

"who told you i-?!"

ralph's gaze moves to your daughter, who's peeking past the door frame giggling.

"snitch!" ralph gasps dramatically and stands up from his desk, starting to playfully chase her down the hall. "thought you could rat me out huh? we had a deal!"

--

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath @honeymoon8 @wcnderlnds @lacucarachapisser @xrag-dollx

[esggs]

cult leader!geto suguru x secretary!reader

Geto snores into his pillow, his long hair spread princess-like over his broad back, having escaped from the little bun he made before bed last night. The heavy curtains are keeping his bedroom still cool and dark at 11 am. I guess that’s why I didn’t wake up on time, I’m pretty sure we missed the Ichinori meeting. You look over at your naked boss next to you, deep asleep. Well, I doubt he’ll get mad at me. 

He looks so… breathtaking. His back still carries the marks of your sharp nails, you smile as you run a soft finger down his spine. So perfect. Glowing skin. Hard muscles underneath. He’s not going to wake up anytime soon, you know that. He’s usually a heavy sleeper, but especially after having been wrung out like that last night – you’d done a good job, you grin at the memory. Maybe he’ll give me a raise. 

You try to piece together all your clothes, you do have to go reschedule his meetings after all. Pleated pants- got it, under the blanket that Geto’s hogging all to himself. Formal blouse- got it, near the door, ugh, is that a tear on the neckline? A shame, this one was expensive. Bra, bra, braaa- got it, what the fuck?? Ah. You remember Geto tore it off you, too impatient to wait a second more. He liked to do that, ripping your clothes off you. Yanking a handful of your hair too close to your scalp. Hickies on the soft of the thighs and belly that seemed a touch from bleeding. A harsh spank with his large hand that made your lamb eyes tear up. Pushing a thumb into your ass while fucking into you from behind. A little painful, a little rough. That is how Geto enjoyed you. 

You decide to give up looking for your panties (they're definitely not in a wearable condition anymore, after having been pulled down your wet heat by Geto's teeth and promptly stuffed into your mouth). For a second, you dare to wonder if you’ll get away with stealing one of Geto’s briefs from the clothing drawer, before deciding that’d be crossing a boundary. Regardless of how many times he’s cum down your throat, he’s still your boss, after all. He’s still the wonderful Geto-sama that you adore and respect, one who found your potential as a sorcerer, one who will rid the world of all curses. 

One who’s trying to pull a hair out of his mouth in his sleep. Adorable. One pant leg in and other pant leg out, you awkwardly hop over to him and take the hair out for him. Those eyelashes melt your heart. You cherish him as you wear your pants as silently as you can: he looks painted, he looks angelic, he looks overwhelmingly loved. 

You put on the ruined blouse anyway; you’ll just go home and change. The bra he can have, you leave it tucked under his pillow, a little gift for him to find later. Your nipples chafe slightly against the fabric of the blouse. They still feel raw sensitive. Geto always insists that lapping them with his tongue would heal any wounds that his lips or teeth have caused to your pretty, perky nipples, but that’s not true. You can feel right now that it’s not goddamn true. Your tits still have full marks of his bites stinging red on them. 

In fact, now that you’re paying more attention to yourself, your entire body feels sore. Your neck has a faintly purple outline of his large hand, and your voice seems to still be rough. Was it him choking you within an inch of your life till your head swam within clouds of ecstasy as he finally let you cum on his cock? Or was it the way he roughly pushed your head into his lap, his thick cock stretching out the insides of your throat? Oh, the image of him hissing as he threw his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing with every deep groan and gasp. “A magician with that mouth,” he’d call you, as he petted your cheek before falling asleep. I’d do it every night just to hear him say it again. 

The places he’s grasped you to hold you against him, your sides, shoulders, thighs, ass, they all hurt. He went overboard last night. Did something happen yesterday? Hmm, December 7... nope, doesn't ring a bell. You pout as you find your phone, tablet, and a Plan B pill you take from his bedside drawer. Geto would rather not use condoms, but also doesn’t fully trust you to take your regular pills on time. So there you go. God’s punishment for creampies.

You suppose Geto has a thing for them. Not that he wants kids, just that he likes feeling you raw. Hearing you cry as you struggle to take him. Smiling as you plead that it’s too much. Pressing your ankles down to your ears as he sinks deeper into you. Moaning into your mouth as he ruts his pleasure into your warm walls, his cum drooling over your sticky thighs. Doing just as he likes, without restraint. 

You have to leave him now, it’s so sad. Rapunzel is still snoring deeply, turning over and letting the blanket fall from his X-scarred chest. You dig his phone out of the mess and leave it next to his ear, you’ll call him awake at 1 pm so that he’s ready for his daily evening address and other meetings. You quickly put your heels on and leave, but not before dropping a kiss on his nose. To keep him company throughout the day. It’s pointless and a bit too sentimental for Geto to appreciate, you believe. Besides, you’ll be right next to him all day anyway, won’t you?

a/n : every now and then the geto suguru agenda seizes me until i cant function.

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