#see its funny because there are two people inside of his skin

[thatonebipotato]

tfw you have to fight off your demons except there's litterally a demon and he is inside of you. sometimes it's the other way around.

[bear-remn]

—shu headcanon's!

hi! I've been thinking a lot lately about the Sakamaki brothers and I came up with some headcanons that maybe you guys can enjoy too, the first one in this series is shu so enjoy! also a little art piece i make during maing this post.

tw: there are some nsfw headcanons!!! if you dont like that content dont read it!

his looks and selfcare

i do think that shuu is very, good looking, shu has that kind of elegant beauty, with his fine face and a straight nose, clearly his eyes are what attract the most attention when you see him for the first time, also shu has a very penetrating and fixed gaze, in addition to the fact that his blue color makes him have a captivating look and sometimes makes people nervous without realizing it, just because of his natural gaze.

even so, shu does not realize how attractive he is, at least not entirely, mostly bc he doesnt take care of his face, like he dont put any cream or special soap on his skin, he is totally the guy that barely wash his face and has a perfect skin.

but i do think that when he wants to, he definetly put sunscreen bc thats what he thinks is makeup for men.

and maybe this is a little... dirty? but i truly belive shu does'nt shower too often, maybe three times a week? or sometimes two, and he does not smell, like too bad, bc he dont sweat for some reason, but does sometimes stink with that smell, when somebody is for too long in a bed... that kind of smell.

and the times he showers he truly takes that shower like if it was his last, ofc is a bubble bath and he puts some candles and music while he just rest in hot water. is shu's private moment with himself. and he loves vanilla and chocolate candles.

and about shaving, he has a happy trail, but cant grow a hole beard, for some reason it just grow under his chin and it bothers him so he shave it right away. and about his body hair it is very thin and not so visible.

talking about skin, something shu needs, is to feel soft things to the touch, like his sheets, he makes his bed all the time and loves the smell of vanila or lavanda the bed has when its recently done, and its the same with his clothes, he needs cotton clothes, if shu feel something that is minimally rough or that makes his skin itchy, he never wears it again or throw it away.

shu does not brush his hair too often, mostly bc its not hard to control and he likes how he looks with messy hair.

i like to think that shu has a wide body, big shoulders and a thick waist, he has a prominent v line, his arms are a little thick too, and his hands are big, but his fingers are more thin and long, as he use to play piano. and he takes care of his nails, doesnt put nail polish but do cuts them and keep them clean.

random stuff

sometimes shu doesnt realize his shirt is inside out, and he realize just when somebody else point it out. but shu dont care.

shu is actually a goosip, so he puts one of his earphones bad just so he can hear what people are talking even if it had nothing to do with him.

and a little secret of him, when shu cant sleep and is alone, he looks at cute/funny (mostly shitpost) videos, memes and photos of animals, shu is totally an animal lover.

on his vacations shu loves to watch a reallity shows, he loves drama of famous people, but ofc shu doesnt talk about this with anyone. and definetly watch them when he eats. not too often tho, it has to be a really good show.

shu has a record collection in his room, next to a wall full of vinyls of his favorite music, he doesn't use them much but enjoys collecting them.

and bc of his childhood he is actually really smart but bc he is miserable and lazy he just dont show it nor in his life or in the academy. and also as a little revenge to his father (who punish him by sending shu to alaska lol).

shu actually dont like human food, he find it boring, but do enjoy eating meat, almost raw, but not too much, bc after that his stomach hurt a little. he does like coffe or hot chocolate sometimes and better when it has milk.

and my favorite little thing about shu, i think shu dont play in consoles, not play station, not xbox, not nintendo, nothing like that. so he only play games in his phone, but not anygame. shu either playes puzzles games or play subway surfers, or both, who knows. and he loves the music of that game, it always stick into his mind when he hears it.

NSFW

so, shus dick... is great, maybe too dirty of me to say but u truly belive that shu has a pretty dick, like maybe more thick than normal, with two prominent veins and heavy balls. and its a little biger than average, probably like 19 cm. i had to say it.

also, i belive shu is a switch, ofc loves to be dominant but also enjoys being dominated, with a limit.

shu loves to tease people in any chance he gets, like, when someone (specially a girl) find out that he likes to hear woman moans as music, he tease them to make them nervous like "what? would you prefer me to just hear you? want me to make you moan? hehe". or when a girl is wearing something too revealing too close to him, like he sees someone underwear or a little peak of her chest shu be such an ass "wanting to show me something? how lewd of a woman you are huh" all of that with his sly smirk.

he flirts in a very... one of a kind, like he teases but also like to make physical contact, at firts he just do it in a way to make the other person nervous but with the time he craves the physical contact, he loves feeling his skin touch another skin, what makes him sleep naked.

shu is more perverted than laito canonically, but i think that shu is more romantic about it, like put passion in it, you can feel the conection with him when having sex. specially bc he loves making eye contact and touch everything he can. he craves to melt into your skin and its really intense. he holds you with possessiveness, hard and intense. almost needy, but shu isnt like quick and fast or desesperate. he is more the kind of sloow and deep, nice and steady. kind of guy.

and bc of his intense desire, he loves foreplay, and best of it, he knows how to do it right, i just know he can read people to know what someone like to make them weak. he also loves kissing, tongue. theeth and lips, he have to kiss at every moment, and if you moan into his mouth he just gets worked up. he would definetly make you grind on his leg while kissing. clearly he does the leg thing, he know things.

shu is a big fan of 69, like he loves to get sofocated while you suck him, and he does it right, loves to play with your clit like crazy, but he isnt rough, but if you ask for him to be more rough he get into it, until youre fucking trembling. and he expect you to cum in his face, afterwards he is happy just to be there.

and his favorite position in bed is either cowgirl or spoonign, firts bc he like when you take control, and seconds, he gets to hold you and be close to you and not making too much effort.

in the case of cowgirl, he loves pushing up to go deeper, and all of that while watching you face, damn he loves it. also likes to hold you waist, and watch you support your body with your hands on his legs, that way he can see better your boobs as you move. when he is close he bites his bottom lip so hard just bc he wants to see you how you cum as well, literally make you look into his eyes while doing it. and if he can, shu will sit up just to kiss you and and look into your eyes up close. he loves to intimidate you with his gaze.

"cmon... keep looking at me... dont take your pretty eyes off mine..."

and if you refuse to lok at him, shu would hold you face to make your eyes meet his.

and in the case of spooning, he grabs you close, like if shu wants to get into your skin, would hold onto your tits or your belly with one hand while he other is in your neck, making you look back at him while he trust into you deep and nice. would kiss your shoulder, your neck, your back, any little part of your skin that is close to him, he would kiss it gently, and if shu speed up a little, you would hear his hot breaths in your ear, occacionally biting it.

"fuck... you're mine, you know that?... only mine.. say it..."

"you're my woman... hear it?... say it... i want to hear you..."

the aftercare is another story to tell, basically he would be either too lazy to get up or just by luck he has something to clean up in his drawyer. he is the kind of men, that would prefer to stay dirty for a while just to hold you a little longer, definetly tease you for another round or just kiss you softly as he carees you hair or skin.

this man craves you with passion, and its touch starved.

── more of my content here!

[lokis-army-77]

Sweet Treat

older!Eddie Munson x fem reader

Word Count: 3.4k

It's hot out and you see your older neighbor mowing his lawn. Lucky for you he invites you inside for a sweet treat.

Warning: 18+ I will block you if you are under 18 or have no age in your blog. oral (f receiving), p in v, fingering, like the slightest amount of food play, 40s eddie, 20s reader, fem reader, just a bit of cum eating

Thank you to my beta readers @munson-blurbs, @lofaewrites, @emma-munson and @littlexdeaths

Masterlist

It was sweltering outside, like hell was no longer a fictional place made up by religion but real, and its flames had reached Hawkins. The sun beat down on you so intensely that you thought your skin was melting. 

You berate yourself for thinking that taking a walk outside in the middle of summer would be anything but awful and yet you're here.

Sweat dripped from your forehead as you finally made it back to your home, but instead of going straight inside something stopped you in your tracks.

Your neighbor, or your hot older neighbor, had started mowing. The sound of the motor roaring to life caught your attention, and the sight of the 45-year-old without his shirt on kept it. 

The sun shining onto his sweat-soaked skin made him look ethereal, like a god on earth. It made your mouth water and your nerves vibrate. 

He caught your eye a moment later and waved, you waved back and then made yourself look busy by checking your mailbox, nothing was there. You didn't want him to know you were gawking at him. 

It must not have worked because as soon as the mower had turned on, it turned off and you heard your name being called in that deep timber.

You walk down your driveway, closer to where he sat on his machine.

"Hi, Mr. Munson," you greeted with a smile.

He sighs, "Thought I told you to call me Eddie."

You respond with a giggle, "I know, I just do it to aggravate you."

"Ah, so you think you're funny?"

"Oh, I know I am."

Eddie just chuckles at that, shaking his head. 

Reaching a hand up, you wipe the sweat from your brow. 

"Sure is hot." 

"It is. You wanna come inside, I've got some cold water and a bit of butter pecan ice cream if you want any." He offers.

You wrinkle your nose, "Butter pecan? That's such an old man flavor." 

"No, it isn't." 

"Yes, it is. The only people who eat and enjoy butter pecan are over the age of 40." You enjoy the banter that usually flows between the two of you. It makes your stomach flutter and your knees weak. 

He just rolls his eyes. "Well then, Sweetheart, I think I have just a bit of chocolate in the freezer with your name on it."

You finally walk up next to him as he stands from the mower. "Don't I just feel special."

Eddie looks at you smugly. “Ladies first.” He gestures for you to walk in front of him and you oblige. 

There’s a swing to your hips that you hope catches his attention, especially with how much skin is exposed from the workout shorts you were wearing. You hear him cough, clearing his throat and you know it worked. 

“Door’s unlocked,” he calls as you bound up the stairs. 

Upon entering the house you’re hit with a blast of cold air. The AC was definitely turned down as far as it could go, it felt almost like a freezer.

Eddie enters only a moment after you, letting the door slam closed. He glides past you, a hand barely grazing our hip as he does. You follow him closely. 

It's bright enough in the kitchen that he doesn't bother flipping the light on. He heads straight for the fridge. 

Your eyes rake over him, taking in the flex of muscles as he bends to open the sliding freezer door. The way his arms bulge when he rummages through the depths had your mouth watering. 

Giving a long sigh, Eddie stands up straight and turns to you with a pint of ice cream in hand. 

“Looks like it's just old people ice cream if the princess is alright with that.”

“Oh, it's princess now?” You ask, taking a seat on the barstool next to the kitchen island. 

Eddie shrugs, “Fits better since you're apparently too good for the best ice cream known to man.”

“I am not.” 

He scrunches his face, you think it's cute. “I beg to differ.”

“I'm not, I'll eat your ice cream, no problem.”

“So you aren't going to complain that it's for old people?” He asks, settling at the counter next to you.

“Just open the carton.” You give his arm a slight shove. 

He does as you say and pushes it closer to you before offering a spoon. 

You take it and thank him before scooping a tiny bit of the sweet treat out. It's cold on your tongue and you hate to admit it but it was good. 

“S'good isn't it?”

“Eh, it's okay.” You say, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of being right. 

Taking another scoop, this time you bring the spoon slowly into your mouth, lapping up the ice cream in a more sensual manner as you make eye contact with the other man. Just barely, you can see his pupils dilate taking you in.

“You’ve got a little-” Eddie makes a vague gesture to the corner of his mouth.

Giggling a bit, you fein ignorance of the ice cream you let collect at the corner of your mouth. “Here?” you ask as you wipe at the opposite side. 

And just as you thought he would, Eddie reaches over and smoothes his thumb over your lip, collecting what was there. Your breath hitches when he brings his thumb to his mouth and licks it clean. The sight of his tongue wetting the digit and the glisten of saliva in the light had your legs clenching. 

You want him to do it again. 

So, with another bite of ice cream, you make what you’re doing more obvious, letting the spoon paint the white treat over your lips. You know what it must look like, salacious and borderline inappropriate if your mind was in the gutter, which is where you know Eddie’s is at that moment.

He takes a deep, shaky breath, “Fuck-” He’s surging toward you before you can even comprehend it. Soft, plump lips connect with yours. You freeze in shock for just a moment, then you kiss him back. 

The spoon in your hand drops to the counter, rattling loudly. You reach your arms around his neck and pull him into you. Eddie slips his tongue between your lips and lets out a groan. He tastes like butter pecan and something you can’t quite place, something you can only describe as Eddie. 

You can’t get enough and just when you start to wrestle your tongue against his, he pulls away and creates a space between the two of you. 

A hand rubs over his face and he sight. “We can’t be doing this.” His tone is reluctant.  

Furrowing your brows, you ask, “Why not?” 

Eddie looks at you and flits his eyes from your kiss-swollen lips to the dismayed expression in your eyes. “Are you serious? I’m too old for you.”

“Last I checked, 45 wasn’t that old.”

“Sweetheart, I have tattoos older than you.” He shakes his head.

“Eddie, I’m a grown adult who knows what she wants and to put it frankly, you have been at the top of that list for quite some time.” You pause to examine his expression. His brow is cross and he’s gnawing on the inside of his cheek. “Is it my consent that you need? Because you have it.”

“God, this is probably a bad idea,” he whispers to himself and then he's on you once more. His large hands squeeze at your waist until they find their way under the fabric of your tee. Your own hands cling to his shoulders, keeping yourself balanced so you don’t fall off the bar stool.

Eddie bites your lip, tugging it lightly when he pulls away. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to kiss you. How long I’ve wanted to have my hands on you, to feel you.” He says, breathless. 

He kisses down your neck, sending a shiver down your spine and a tingle wherever his lips meet your skin. 

“Eddie-” You moan. 

“Hum?” 

“I want you to do more than kiss me.”

That stops him in his tracks. He pulls away for a second time and you can’t help the whimper it brings out of you. 

“You’re sure?” 

As much as you were grateful for his concern, it was really getting in the way of you trying to have him fuck the daylights out of you. 

“Yes, I’m sure.” You pull him in for a deep kiss before whispering against his lips, “So, are you going to fuck me or am I going to have to take matters into my own hands?”

The smirk he gives you is cocky. “C’mere, Sweetheart.” He grabs at you, pulls you from the stool, and moves you to the island countertop. He wastes no time in ridding you of your shirt and bra. 

His tongue licks a long, wet line from the side of your neck down to the elastic waistband of your shorts. 

Slowly but surely, he begins to pull the fabric down Your legs. He stops in surprise when He sees you aren't wearing anything underneath. 

A deep chuckle vibrates in his chest. “Did you know this would happen, Sweetheart?” He left an open-mouthed kiss on the inside of your thigh. “Hum? Plan to seduce me with those short fucking shorts only to not have any panties on?”

Shaking your head you mumble out “No.”

“It sure does look like it, princess.” Eddie teases you with his fingers, using them to spread you open gently. His eyes glaze over with lust. “Fuck, baby… so pretty and wet for me.”

The sudden rush of arousal washes over you, leaving your skin flushed and your cunt fluttering around nothing.

He leaves wet kisses all over the sensitive skin, moving from your apex to your thigh, right where the artery was. Taking the plush meat there into his mouth, he sucked, soothing his tongue over where his teeth bit down gently. There was no doubt a mark would be there when he pulled away. 

You watch him, elbows planted on the counter to prop yourself up. Just looking at him makes your heart beat faster. 

“Eddie,” you moan as you widen your legs. 

He hums against you as he sucks his way back to your center. With lidded eyes, he looks up at you just as his mouth attaches to your clit. 

Choking out a gasp, you let your head fall back between your shoulders. 

Eddie’s hands wrap around the back of your legs, gripping them firmly and guiding them over his shoulders. The noises coming from where he was connected to you had butterflies fluttering in your stomach. He'd only just started but it felt like with every even suck and precise lick of his tongue, You were melting into a puddle around him. 

Soon your arms became weak and you had to lay flat. Your hands had a mind of their own as your body writhes under Eddie's expert mouth. His hair quickly fell from the loose knot that kept it out of his face when you ran your hands through it. 

You could tell Eddie liked it too much, hips bucking into nothing When you tugged on the salt and pepper strands. His moans sent vibrations through you. 

“Eddie, fuck, Eddie- you feel so good,” you can't help but babble when you feel two thick fingers begin to penetrate your entrance. 

There's an audible pop when he releases you from his mouth. “Yeah? Imagine how good my cock's gonna feel, Sweetheart.” He removes your legs from his shoulders as he begins to stand.

Tilting your head, you gaze at him. Following down his nose, over his wet lips, down along the tattoo of a sneak that started at his shoulder and curled down his bicep. With him closer now, you could see more of those tattoos littering his skin and the trail of hair that led from his navel down. 

You clench around his fingers at the thought of whatever was hiding behind those basketball shorts. You wanted it, needed it, inside of you. 

Eddie's fingers massaged into you, the calloused pads pushing into your soft insides. “Right there!” You pant when he pushes into a particularly sensitive spot. “Right there! Don't stop!”

He doesn't, he keeps a strong steady pace with his fingers hitting the mark every single time. It had your toes curling and your head swirling with pleasure. 

Unknowingly, you clamped your hand over your mouth as you began to moan.

Eddie pushes your hand away. “Don't cover those pretty moans, wanna hear how good I make you feel.”

Nodding, you keep your hands away. Occupying one by gripping your breast and the other, slipping it down to massage over your clit. 

The added stimulation makes your legs snap shut and your body goes ridged. You were hurled over the edge so fast that your vision was almost white. 

Eddie kept his fingers pumping into you despite the added obstacle. You could hear the wet sound growing louder as your body shook with release and your lungs cried out. 

“That's it, princess, give it all to me.”

“Eddie-” you cry out to him. “Feels- ah fuck, I feel so good.”

He hums in approval.

“You make me feel so good.”

Eddie pulls his fingers from your dripping cunt and licks them clean. “God, you're delicious. Put that ice cream to shame.” 

He pulls you by your hips down the counter, closer to him, and places a firm kiss on your lips. You'd never liked the taste of yourself before but that salty tangy mixed with the sweetness of Eddie's tongue had you melting and wanting for more.

You want to feel him inside of you. No, it's not a want, it's a need. A need so strong you think you might cry if you don't have I'm in the next five seconds. 

Pulling away, you give Eddie a look. One so filled with lust and longing, you know he won't be able to resist.

“What is it, princess?” He asks, moving back in to kiss marks on your neck. 

Your fingers tug on his hair and you sigh. “I need-”

“What do you need?”

“I need you to fuck me.” The buck of your hips punctuated every word.

“S'that right, Sweetheart? Need me to use this pretty cunt?”

You groaned, nodding excitedly when he started backing up. As he did so, he knocked over what was left of the ice cream. It was melted now and its contents flowed onto the counter.  

Eddie smirked as he took the carton and instead of sitting it back up, he poured it onto your skin. The splashes of the now liquid dessert were cold on your hot skin. He gives you a salacious wink before lapping up what he had tipped onto you.

“Eddie!” You gasp, surprised by his actions. 

He paced you no mind, cleaning the stickiness from your skin, and pulled back. Acting as though nothing had happened, he began tugging at the drawstring of his shorts. 

The outline of his cock was impressive, you had always imagined it would be the biggest you'd ever had. And as his shorts and boxers fell from his hips down his toned legs, you were proven right. 

Saliva pooled in your mouth at the sick of him. Long and thick and stood at attention. Your eyes flicked from the flushed tip of his cock to his eyes and then back down again a few times before he chucked. Asking “See something you like?” 

“Yeah…” you were breathless just looking at it. 

Anticipation begins to build, your heart beating faster as he lined himself up. Your legs spread wider, letting Eddie nestle in. He gives the sensitive skin a tap with his cock before sliding it through your slick folds. 

“Ready, baby?” 

“Yes, please.”

As he enters, there's a slight pain. He's thicker than anything you've ever taken and the new stretch has you burning.  He isn't even halfway inside before you start shaking and mewling in ecstasy.

Eddie's fingers have your hips in an iron grip. He looks out a long moan once he bottoms out. There is the sensation of being filled to your absolute max.

Your walls are contracting around him, trying To pull him in deeper. 

“Fuck. That's it, baby, taking me so well. So proud of you.” 

You keen into his praise. Hips bucking and back arching. 

“Need more,” you plead and he obliges, rocking his hips into you, starting slow before going into an almost inhuman speed. pleasure is all that you feel, all that you know in this moment.

With every thrust, you saw Eddie lose just a little more self-control until he was feral, pounding into you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Feel so fucking good baby. Yeah, that's right, this pussy was made for me, wasn't it? God dammit.” He'd lost his filter, saying anything and everything that came to his mind. 

You were loving it. No man had ever been so vocal with you before and it was such a turn-on to hear every grunt, moan, and whimper.

There's a flutter in your stomach that you know all too well. You're balancing on the edge and are so close to toppling over. 

“Eddie. Eddie. Eddie!” You've run out of words, all you can manage to say is his name. It's like a prayer on your lips. 

“I know, Sweetheart.” He tuts, voice out of breath. “Can feel you squeezing me. God, you’re so fucking tight.” His fingers grip your hips harder. “Need you to cum for my baby, can you do that?”

You nod frantically. “Yes, yes, yes,” you say as his thrusts continue, finally giving you that last little nudge you need to fall. 

With eyes rolling back in your head and a ringing in your ears, you cum. Harder than you ever had before. You're so lost in the feeling that you can't hear yourself screaming rapture. Every feeling is intense like hitting a raw nerve but it's so enjoyable.

Eddie's thrusts slow to a stop before he reluctantly pulls from your warmth and tugs himself to completion.  You can feel the warm ropes quickly cooling on your stomach and breasts when you finally come back to reality.  

“God dammit.” Eddie rasps. 

You can't help but laugh, “My thoughts exactly.”

Fixing your eyes on your stomach. You take a finger and collect Eddie's cum onto it. He watches you with wide eyes as you bring the finger to your mouth. It's not your favorite taste but you moan nonetheless.

“Thanks for the sweet treat, Mr. Munson.” Your face heats up over what you've said.

Eddie chuckles and shakes his head at you before giving you a fond look. Even though you were spread out on his kitchen counter covered in drying cum, you'd never felt more comfortable. You can see when Eddie hesitates ever-so-slightly before he asks, “Can I kiss you?”

It was sweet, you thought. You nod giving him the go-ahead. 

He pulls you up by the hand you give him and his mouth is on you in a tender kiss. Much too tender for what you had both finished doing. 

His hands massage into the sides of your face and neck and your own slide into his hair, tugging the fallen strands at the nape of his neck. 

When he pulls away, you follow him hot wanting his lips to leave yours. He gives you a quick peck before stepping back. 

You pout but he soothes you. “I'll be back. Gonna get a cloth to clean you up.” 

It only takes him a moment to return to you, warm rag in hand. It feels nice to have all the sweat and other fluids wiped from your skin, it feels even nicer with Eddie the one doing it. 

A yawn escapes you when he’s finally done and helps you off the counter. 

“Tired?” He asks. 

“Yea-” You were cut off by another big yawn, it brings involuntary tears to your eyes. Rubbing your eyes, you sigh, “I guess I better get home.” Bending down, you reach for your clothes that had made a home on the floor. 

“Or,” Eddie stops you, “You could stay here.” 

 The statement was more of a question with his hopeful look and light tone. 

You can’t help the blush that makes its way onto your cheeks. “I think I’d like that.” 

“Good. Now leave those there, I have something more comfortable you can wear.” 

[sunnebeam]

"i was hoping i wouldn't have to resort to this."

A 'PERKS OF BEING A HOUSEHUSBAND' DRABBLE.

pairing: min yoongi x reader

plot: the (mis)adventures of retired gangster min yoongi as he leaves behind the life of the mafia and navigates the way of the househusband.

warnings: the way of the househusband au, marriage au, crack, domesticity, yoongi unintentionally scares people

masterlist + disclaimers.

note: go on tell me d-day!yoongi isn't tatsu I DARE YOU 😤 btw u don't need to watch the way of the househusband before reading this, but i swear u won't regret it if u do lol it's so funny (and it gives great visuals for this fic!). anyways, enjoy!! i'd love to hear ur thoughts so drop by my askbox and let's chat :)

Water drips down his neck as he washes his face. Droplets fall down his tattooed back, tracing the meticulous lines and bold colors that contrast his pale skin.

After rinsing and drying off, he dons on his outfit for the day – a fitted, white, short-sleeved shirt that shows off the intricate tattoos on both his arms and some black sweatpants – and puts on his signature apron – a beige, cotton apron with a drawing of his brown poodle on the front. Said poodle is staring at him from the bathroom door as he takes one last look at the mirror.

An old, bumpy scar runs down his right eye.

"Perfect," he says to himself before heading to the kitchen with his dog following right behind.

Min Yoongi never used to wake up this early. But these days, he wakes up bright and early at six o'clock because he has an important assignment.

"What do you think, Holly? Too big?"

The poodle barks in response, and taking its opinion into consideration, Yoongi adjusts his gimbap slices accordingly, making them a tad bit smaller and just the perfect size for your lunchbox.

"Shit!"

The door to your shared bedroom opens and you run out, already dressed in your corporate attire. You run to the kitchen where your husband is and get a huge glass of water.

"I'm late!" you screech, all while gulping down the whole glass.

"But you still have a few hours," he points out in confusion.

"I forgot I have an early meeting!" you explain in a hurry, putting on your heels before giving your husband a big smooch on the lips and blowing Holly a kiss. "Sorry, Yoonie! I'll see you later!"

And you're out the door.

Yoongi blinks for a few moments before shaking his head. He's chuckling in amusement at your mishap, but if any outsider hears his laughter, it just sounds a bit manic.

"Well, looks like it's just you and me, Holly."

Holly barks.

"Huh? What was that?"

Holly barks.

Yoongi stares at the poodle, then at your Hello Kitty lunchbox he meticulously prepared, then back at the poodle.

"She forgot her lunchbox?"

Holly barks.

"Fuck."

Yoongi snaps into action, securing the lunchbox and putting it inside a Hello Kitty cloth bag before running out the door with his cute apron still on. He mounts his bicycle and speeds towards your office – which, if he was driving a car, would have broken numerous traffic regulations but luckily he isn't a stranger to breaking a law or two.

He's almost to your office. He's halfway there.

But unfortunately, there's a bit of a situation.

"What's your occupation, sir?"

The two police officers stare at him hesitantly after flagging him down for pedalling too fast with his bicycle. They're debating on giving him a ticket but then Yoongi answers.

"Househusband."

They stare at him.

"What?"

Yoongi sighs. At this rate, he won't be able to catch you before you clock in.

"Wait a second," one of the officers says, eyeing the tattoos peeking out from Yoongi's shirt and the big scar on his eye. "Are you..."

They stare at the name on the ticket. Min Yoongi.

"...Agust D?"

No way, the other officer thinks. There's a rumor about an infamous gangster called Agust D who used to slaughter his enemies with his own two hands. This guy can't be him. Right? Right?!

They hold a breath when Yoongi reaches into his pocket.

"I was hoping I wouldn't have to resort to this," he murmurs.

"Wait, sir. There's no need for violence—"

"Here," Yoongi shuts them up by thrusting one of his most precious possessions.

A gift card for discounts at the local grocery store.

The police officers stare at the gift card, bewildered.

"As much as it pains me to let go of this," Yoongi continues, "take it. Now, I have to go."

And he pedals away, leaving behind one gift card and two very confused cops.

COPYRIGHT 2023. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

[sleepyangelkami]

TRUTH HOLDER j.herondale

 ☆ WORD COUNT - 1.3K

JACE HERONDALE X FEM!READER

 ☆ SUMMARY - being a seelie had its cons such as the inability to lie. jace has decided to mess with you, using such a fact to his own advantage.

 ☆ WARNINGS - smut, fingering, slight manipulation, dirty talk, dom!jace, sub!reader, praise kink, hickies, overprotectiveness, petnames, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

"what are you doing?"

your meek voice could be heard from where you sat on the bed, jace's bed from inside the institute, clad only in one of the boy's oversized shirts, nothing beneath.

jace walked back towards the bed with evident cockiness in his expression, you were sure that he couldn't shake it even if he wanted to. "just putting the silencing rune on the door." placing his mouth against your neck and his hands against your waist, unable to think of anything other than you.

your voice was above a whisper, hands roaming towards his neck. "promise?" because though he was a shadowhunter, he could still lie. a disadvantage you were seemingly always caught up in.

he parted his mouth from your neck, cocking his head to the side with a playful smile on his lips. "don't you trust me?" as if the question had been one that didn't need an answer, he'd press anyway.

your mind danced to the flashback when jace had told you he'd put the silencing rune on the door and yet as you walked out of the room the next day, you earned many stares and glances. jace had smirked at that, once confronted stating that you were his and everyone in the institute should know so. "not really." you answered honestly, voice low as a mouse.

a low chuckle fell from the blonde's lips, eyes tracing your face. "i love that you can't lie."

you, not so much.

there were many things you could have went your entire life without telling jace but when presented with the right questions, you had no choice but to answer with the truth, unable to will a lie to stain your tongue.

your own eyes traced his face. you could feel the gentleness of his fingers against your thighs, they'd moved from your waist to the nakedness of your skin, inching just below the shirt that he'd drawn up more than he'd care to admit. from earlier activities, he knew that nothing lay beneath the shirt, it only egged him on more.

his eyes bored into yours, a grin against his lips. "you really love me, don't you?" it was more of a statement, not a question. he could see it in the way your eyes couldn't leave his, the way they traced his skin so gently. you two weren't exactly 'exclusive' just yet but he was yours and you were his, it was all that mattered to the both of you.

his fingers gently moved upwards causing air to trap in your throat. "you already know the answer to that." stating the truth but unable to admit what so desperately scratched at your tongue.

around him, you couldn't be held accountable for the tales you would tell.

"no lies there." he answered, lips attaching and detaching from your neck again. "but i want to hear you say it."

his hot breath against the nape of your neck along with the tone of voice he spoke in, one of certain demand, as if he were giving you straight obligations. it was enough to have your face hot and your hands clawing at his arms.

you didn't have to be inexperienced to get so flustered around jace, it simply happened. your voice was strained, holing in a mewl at the edge of your tongue. "i can't." voice broken and shattered.

it was hard to keep a steady breath when his fingers travelled further up your skin, lips sucking on the skin of your neck, creating what he'd soon assure you was simply a 'love bite' and assure you that it was nothing to be embarrassed about, convincing you to wear it about in the institute and have people look at you funny.

"yes, you can, angel." his voice reassuring and soft, his fingers gently squeezed at your thigh. however, you answered with only a shattered gasp leading his fingers to trail further and beneath the cotton shirt over your frame. "come on, baby, say it." voice a breathless whisper against your exposed skin. "lemme hear you say it, come on."

being a seelie, you were bound by the truth, unable to lie.

however, jace herondale was the reason your mouth would spew so many words.

he couldn't force the words out of you, that wasn't how being a seelie worked, he could make you talk. but he had such a good way at making you do it, manipulating your lips into moving.

perhaps it was the gentle hand that moved upwards to your pussy, collecting the wetness of your core and causing you to whine, the feeling of his thumb sinking down on your clit and gently circling it. "say it." he teased, smirking close to your cheek.

"i love you."

and jace wore a look of satisfaction, knowing you couldn't lie, knowing it had been the truth.

"good girl." left his lips, sinking back onto your neck and allowing the first finger to enter your core. you shook, your face pushing into his shoulder and muffling your noises. "wanna hear you." is all he mumbled back. "silencing rune is on the door, baby, no one will hear you but me."

and didn't that sound like an offer you simply couldn't give up.

once again, jace herondale managed to put you in a position where you couldn't so much as fight it. a whine left your lips, feeling him add a finger into your core and pump them in and out without grace, rapidly.

you had this thing about you, beautiful soft and slow. jace would like to add that he was quite the opposite. and he relished in it. he relished in using his fingers to ram inside your hole, the palm of his hand hitting against your clit and causing enough stimulation to have your back arching from the bed, hands pawing at him like a kitten, trying to hold onto whatever sense was left in your head, using him to ground you.

however, the more you grasped at his big arms, caging you, the deeper you fell.

it was almost impossible to will your mind back to reality and jace didn't bother to help. on the contrary, he pushed you even further.

"good girl, good girl." smiling gently as he repeated the words to himself. his free hand came down on your face, thumb swiping across your bottom lip and watching as your face scrunched up in emotions you couldn't quite string together. "such a good girl f'me, huh?" words as much of a tease as they were a praise. "my pretty girl, yeah? you my pretty girl?"

and you were so far gone that you couldn't register the words that moved from his mouth to your ears, nodding and babbling incoherent words, whines and whimpers stretching from your mouth.

finally, you felt the familiar knot inside your stomach and the boy did nothing to stop his movements, willing you over the edge until finally he felt your juices on his fingers. he brought his hand up to lick them off, watching as your eyes shut and your pawing hands pulled him closer.

this time, he moved with your hands, coming closer to your body and letting you grasp onto him, the only reality left.

and the words seemed metallic on your tongue, unable to string anything else together. "i love you." you whispered, hopelessly. "i love you." like a prayer on one's dying tongue.

there was something eerily comforting to jace, knowing you couldn't lie to him, bound only by the truth.

i love you too repeated in his own head, willing it to move to his tongue. jace wasn't like you, he had the option to lie, though he'd never do such a thing.

yet he found the words harder to lift onto his tongue, unknowing if you'd ever believe him in the assuredness that he believed you. perhaps it was everything he was afraid of.

which is why he said nothing.

main masterlist/jace's masterlist

[rayveneyed]

cw: smut / a/b/o dynamics / cisfem!reader

contrary to popular, old-fashioned belief, alphas and omegas can be friends.

long gone are those times of wilful ignorance, the use of nature as an excuse for shitty behaviour —well, i'm an alpha, see, so i really can't help trying to shove my hand up your skirt, so—

most people are chill nowadays, you like to think — like to being the key phrase. sure, you get the occasional tradomega trying to tell you that you need to dive into your divine feminine and serve your alpha as god intended — and you've definitely been on the receiving side of some ticking biological clock rhetoric, for sure, by snot-nosed alphas with not even a single yen to their name — but it is what it is.

all of this to say that: when sero hanta is guts deep in you, it's completely platonic. completely. cute. casual. nowadays, no hair-brained ideas of marriage or monogamy or commitment accompany your coupling — it’s animal instinct, dirty and intense and slick and hot, scratching a biological itch, and that’s it.

you really lucked out on your choice of partner, too. sero’s an alpha, yes, but not in the derogatory sense. he doesn't get pissed when he smells other alphas on you, like a territorial dog; doesn't tell you that you should be settled down, already, with a household of pups to manage at 25 years of age; doesn't push and prod when you work long hours and devote most of your time to your career. he's funny, and goofy, and tall, and lean, and — and, well, his hair is floppy and inky black, and when he's hunched over you, sweat dripping onto your collarbone from his pointed nose, his cheeks flush the cutest shade of pink…

ahem. anyways.

while there are many omegas that are no doubt stronger than you when it comes to heats, forgoing human contact in favour of 700-odd pounds of silicone, you're part of the large majority that would rather shack up with somebody real. you're not knocking it, of course! your sock drawer is testament to the fact that you love your silicone, really, but there's just something about a person. all heat and skin-to-skin, sticky and nasty in a way that leaves you more satisfied than anything else.

and sero — with his kind eyes and goofy smile (and skintight hero suit) — is not only more than willing to help you through your heats, but have you enjoy them. not an easy feat when your insides are tying themselves up in knots between orgasms, but by god does he do it. something about his hips... something about the way he bows his head to your shoulder, grinding long and slow into you, hips pressed flush to hips. his lips brushing against your skin when he groans, his fingers tangling in your hair to pull your head back. you're not sure if you should be jealous of his obvious sexual experience, or just grateful that you get to be on the receiving end of it.

there is, of course, the obvious romantic connotations of it all. you’re not stupid enough to completely ignore it; after all, heats are these romanticised, coming-of-age-esque happenings, the plot of most early 2000 rom-coms and bad pornos. cute omega roommate forgets her suppressants and goes into heat! real alpha-omega love-making guaranteed!

but its not like that, because hanta is hanta and you are you. you’re like sharkboy and lavagirl. or fireboy and watergirl. whichever pairing fits the dynamic better — you’ve always been the hothead between you two.

“that’s a really shitty idea,” a friend warns you. she’d caught you with your scarf undone, baring the hickies that hanta had left on you to the world — an embarrassing result of the occasional non-heat trysts you’d find yourself caught up in. you couldn’t even blame the heat hormones for the way you’d almost mauled him, but a girl simply has needs! “i’m telling you, casual heat sex never works. trust me.”

but it works for you and hanta, right? because no matter how much you fight, how much you disagree, how much you chastise him for putting himself directly in the line of fire — on live tv, no less! — it all melts away in a pile of blankets and pillows. no matter how deep his cock drives in you, no matter how his teeth scrape your scent glands and have your toes curling against his back, it all ends up the same — slumped in front of the tv, lazily lounging on your phone while he boots up his nintendo 64 to kick ganondorf’s ass for the billionth time.

(and it doesn’t matter that sero isn’t seeing anyone else — it doesn’t matter that he’s deleted his dating apps, or that you keep the pillow he sleeps on when he comes over so that you can scent it when he’s gone. it doesn’t matter that he reminds you to take your anxiety meds — you know, omegas are 44% more likely to have GAD than the average person? — or that he remembers how you take your tea, coffee, and pho. these are things you’d do with any friend, of course.)

it’s cute. casual. not at all romantic, so surely you shouldn’t think twice about leaving a toothbrush at his place. and what harm could a set of pyjamas do? and you could always do with an extra pair of socks, and your skincare, and perhaps an extra phone charger…?

[brucewaynehater101]

I have a spooky Tim au that I think you would like.

Tim is not human and has never been. He knows this. His "parents" know this. The rouges know this. However, none of the Bats but one know this. When around the Bats, Tim looks like a Normal Human. His skin is pale but does look like flesh and his eyes are weirdly pale but they still look like eyes. His hair has a weird texture but its prob just his shampoo, so surely the slightly off texture in how his skin feels is just his lotion, right? His teeth are a bit sharp but still human teeth and his movements a bit odd, but what Bat doesn't move strangely?

However when they aren't around, it is a totally different story. His skin changes to look like porcelain and his eyes are so very clearly made of painted glass. His hair is made of string and twine died black and when its fist or foot lands a blow it feels like being hit by a sand bag and not flesh and bone. His teeth are made of shards of broken glass and his movements are far to Jerry yet smooth, like a puppet on strings that glides through the air in a horrible mimicry of walking. This Thing that wears the Robin Suit is Not a human, as long as it isn't around Batman or Nightwing. When either are there, The Rouges can see the shift. The way it suddenly looks so *human*. But once Batman leaves it shifts back into being a *thing*.

Tim is only a Thing when he is either scaring the rouges or Truly Comfortable. Young Justice knows that Tim is not a human and he doesn't hide it from them. There is never any fight about his civilian identity because he freely tells them, "I am a Thing made from Glass and Sand and Fabric and Magic. He is not a Person nor has he ever Been A Person. He is not some poor sap who was transformed into a Thing, he is a Thing that was created and then given life with Magic.

As for how Jack and Janet acquired a Thing like Tim, well. They're archeologists. They dug up an old tomb, found a coffin that was chained closed and bolted to the ground and like every White Person In A Horror Movie, they opened it without a second thought. Inside they found an ancient, cursed doll. It came to life when Janet cut herself trying to clean off one of its broken glass eyes to get a better look and the blood fell on it. The pair then decided this was a lot easier than child birth and kept the cursed doll, naming it Tim.

My gods. I love the ending of this cause it gives off the same vibes as "humans will adopt anything" tropes in space travel fiction.

I have one caveat with the Bats not knowing. I hc that Cass knows. Tim's body language is too strange for her not to notice something.

Everything else? Beautiful. It would be hilarious if people keep trying to tell the Bats. Here's a possible scene:

Goon: *points finger at Tim* "That thing beside you isn't human!"

Tim: *fakes having his shoulders drop as he turns slightly away in dejection*

Dick: *absolute fury as he beats up the goon*

Tim: *decides not to get revenge after seeing what Nightwing does to the person*

or

Rogue: "I'm telling ya, whatever he is got string hair, porcelain skin, and doll like movements to him."

Batman: *hums, takes them out, proceeds to Batcave*

Tim: "What's up, B?"

Bruce: "[] said that you look different when we're not around you."

Tim: *tilts his head* "I mean, I like playing up the rumors that the Bats are cryptids, demons from hell, spirits, or whatever when I can. I add effects to my costume to increase the spook factor."

Bruce: *nods and turns away to end the conversation for now*

Tim: *makes plots to ruin that rogue's life for a bit as revenge and a message*

I'm curious how wounds and scars look on Tim's porcelain skin. How does he heal? Does he even have a spleen?

I'm also down for two avenues:

Jason doesn't know like the rest of the Bats. After they start to become close to each other, Jason retaliates against folk who try to demean Tim. He tries to hide the comments from Tim until he learns that the teen finds it funny and ramps up the rumors on purpose. Then he switches to pulling pranks on people with Tim to create more wild theories and gossip.

Jason finds out at TT, and Tim ensures no one actually believes Jason. Perhaps he even starts the notion that Jason was affected by the Pit. It drives Jason bonkers that no one is trusting him or accepting his words for what they are.

[poppy-metal]

hmhmhmmm how do we feel about being patrick’s secret girlfriend-not-really-girlfriend? like, when you guys first start “dating”, he asks that you keep it private, and you’re fine with that— you aren’t exactly fond of having people all up in your business either. but eventually it starts to feel like he just…doesn’t want people to know the two of you are involved with each other at all. and at first you push all feelings of doubt down, tell yourself that it’s not that big of a deal, that you’re lucky to even have a chance with him in the first place. you aren’t okay with being a secret though. you want people to know that you’re taken, that he’s yours and you’re his. you want all the gross pda and mushy dates. it’s bad enough that you barely see him anymore with him having gone pro and whatnot. you’d never say that to his face though, never that. you’ll never make yourself look that desperate. until. until, until, until. until you see what can only best be described as a horde of googly-eyed girls surrounding your not-quite-boyfriend, a million questions thrown at him per second. he doesn’t see you. how could he in all this chaos? the topic of dating comes up.

“is it true? that you have a girlfriend, i mean.” you subconsciously pray that he says yes, that he shuts down any chances of any girl other than you getting to be with him. instead he hesitates, and only responds to say “nah. you interested?” with that stupidly charming smile. your heart breaks. there’s no way this could get any worse, you think. you shouldn’t stay for a second longer. it feels as though your entire lower body is paralyzed, though. you can’t leave despite how badly you want to. the same girl— you assume— speaks again, saying something along the lines of “what about that one girl you’re talking to? what’s her name again?” she rattles off one, two, three names similar to yours, but not quite right. she’s talking about you. “uh…she’s a sweet girl, don’t get me wrong— but i wouldn’t say we’re a thing.“ patrick responds with ease. he doesn’t even seem guilty. oh. oh oh oh. you want the world to open up and swallow you whole. you want to sink into quicksand. you can’t even get “a thing”? that’s like, the bare fucking minimum. now you seriously can’t bare to hear anymore. not without crying. if this is what a relationship is supposed to be, you’d rather not be in one at all.

just a silly thought!

cries it probably goes sm like this

and then you block him again. its not the first time you've blocked him over a fight, but its the first time you've been committed to it. you dont unblock him, and you change your route the next day to avoid seeing him. you miss him though. its an ache in your chest. your friends will tell you you're better off, that he was just fucking around with you, but it wont make the hurt lessen. they dont know patrick like you do. they dont know that he bites his bottom lip when he finds something you said funny like he's holding in a giggle, they dont know how warm he is or how it feels to be held by him and rocked back and forth. they dont know how it feels to have his fingers tracing patterns on your back, tucking your hair back for you. they dont know how his voice softens and lowers when he's being gentle with you. they dont know how he has your favorite snacks memorized and your favorite order and he always speaks for you in the drive-thru because he knows what you want and he always hand feeds you his fries. they dont know how good it feels with his hands in your hair and his lips on your skin and his cock inside you - thick and stretching. they dont know the things he whispers in your ear when he'd close to coming, the way he grips you closer like he wants to melt inside you and stay there forever. they dont know he likes to lay his head on your lap and have his hair played with. they dont know you're in love with him and you dont know how to not be.

you end up seeing patrick a week later. he's on TV and he's holding the passenger side of his door open for a young woman. she's smiling shyly and he's grinning at her and you just think about how a month ago he fucked you in the backseat of that car - legs splayed as he gripped your ass and bounced you on and off his dick. how hot and steamy it got and how he'd licked the sweat from your throat and sucked your skin into his greedy mouth as he fucked you, how he groaned as you clamped around him like a vice and said "fuck, i think i love you -" right before he came.

obviously just something he'd said in the heat of the moment. obviously it meant nothing. you turn the TV off and debate unblocking him just to pour out all the hurt you feel. make him see how he's ruined you. but you know that'll do no good. he wont care.

you think you'll try your hand at moving on yourself. didn't he an art have an argument not too long ago? a falling out? wasn't art nursing his own broken heart from that tashi girl? maybe you could help eachother.

(what you dont know is that patrick does care. that he's spent everyday talking himself out of making a new number just to text you on, that he can barely get off when he's with other women because they dont feel like you do, they dont talk to him the way you do - he just feels sick after, like he cheated and hes the worst person in the world and he just wants to come crawling back to you and press his face into your stomach and tell you hes sorry. hes sorry tashi fucked him up so bad and he just doesn't want to trust again and hes sorry he's taking it out on you and hes sorry he thinks hes in love with you and he can't do anything with that love because his love isn't enough - it ruins people. it ruined art and it ruined tashi and he doesn't want it to ruin you. hes not built to be a boyfriend. all hes good at is hitting a ball with a racket)

[princesssmars]

plsssss do something for michael munroe im so starved

i could change your mind

some college football player mike headcanons.

contains: fluff. some nsfw. american football gross. mike is cocky whats new. fem!reader. hair nor skin color described.

a/n: anon i lowkey miss him too so i'll do a few headcanons for you anon. sorry that my until dawn rewrite is like on hiatus I just feel like it's gonna be such a flop so my brain says it cant be bad if I don't write it ??? idk. ty for making me do this. set in college but i've decided to start a year late so if i get shit wrong sorry scholars. (heart fingers emoji I'm on desktop fml.)

idk why but the first thing that popped into my head was him loving a sport...like he gives smart but also dumbass jock to me we let's go with he did football in high school and he's at college on a scholarship.

if you're like me you don't give two shits about the sport you probably would not like twice in a football player's way, which he definitely sees as a challenge. he'll come up to you in the dining hall and try to hit on you in front of his jock friends, spouting a "whatever you say, sweetheart" when you reject him with a grimace.

to your surprise and horror he's in one of your advanced classes in your second semester, sitting with his feet up next to your seat with a smile when you walk in. you do call him troglodyte for having his shoes on the table but he says with an easy smile that he's in with the teacher who said it was alright.

great.

for the first three weeks, you try to ignore his questions and poking at all costs, but when you get paired up on an important assignment you decide to hold your disdain on pause. he invites you to "study in his dorm" which nearly gives you a migraine, until he chuckles and tells you he's joking, telling you you can meet at common ground and study in the library.

you hold your tongue instead of giving a quip about how he probably won't be able to keep his mouth shut, but once you actually get there you realize the worst thing ever: mike munroe isn't a moron. he's actually pretty smart, maybe nearly as smart as you, and shows pretty good leadership with how he takes in both your academic strengths and divides the workload based on them. its not hard to see why he's the quarterback.

after you get an a+ on your project, you start to warm up to mike. his stupid quips in class start to actually become funny, leading to numerous moments where he makes you snort in class and the professor rolls his eyes.

your friendship soon grows enough that mike has the confidence to invite you to one of his games while you're walking around campus, and if you start to say no he informs you that he will not hesitate to get on his knees and beg in front of everyone. that makes you feel a little weird so you groan and tell him fine.

the whole time you don't really know what's going on, even though ten minutes before he had to get ready he tried to cram all of the rules into your head. even though you don't know everything you can tell when something good happens, like when he makes the touchdown that wins your school the game. he celebrates with his team members and his crowd of fangirls before coming over to you, clearly waiting for you to say football is fun or something,

you don't. but the after-party definitely was. you don't know what that frat guy put in the punch but it was good, and had you nearly drunk in only two hours. nearly being a keyword, because someone who was past the point decided to do a childish game of seven minutes, and you decided to play along for fun.

but it wasn't so funny when they spun the bottle and it landed on you, then the next turn between two people to point towards the couch where mike was watching with his friends. they both burst out laughing at the horrified look on your face as you reluctantly follow him inside the closet.

for the first minute it's quiet, soft noises from the two of you adjusting your bodies in the quiet space and "sorry"'s when you bump into the other.

he takes your silence for uncomfortableness, telling you he's alright with just sitting with you. "one of my favorite things to do actually"

you don't really know why but you kiss him after that. when you pull away you can faintly see his blank face. great. you ruined everything. you're about to give some half-assed excuse before his hand is on the back of your neck and he's pulling you back into him and pressing your body into his.

things get weird after that night.

you're still friends after that night, of course. except now its...different.

you still have your movie nights laughing at people making dumb decisions in horror movies, except now you'll sometimes wind up on mike's lap with your tongue down his throat.

you still text each other stupid pictures you found on snapchat (he insists on using it, fuckboy he is. or used to be, weirdly). except now before you go to sleep he'll send you a picture of his bulge with a smiley face at the bottom. if you send a picture back he'll send a long voice message that you don't open for your own sanity.

but you aren't like. dating. and you don't know why in passing you hear his teammate nick call you "mike's girl". because you aren't. at all.

and plus its not like you've slept together or even gone on an actual date. you're just...closer than normal friends are.

and then he leaves the next december to spend a week with his old friends, and you kind of mope around campus while he's gone. he makes sure to text you constant updates until the night where he arrives at the cabin, where he leaves you delivered for two days. he did say his ex was going to be there, so that nagging voice in the back of your head is telling you the worse.

until you finally get the call from some random number in alberta. when you pick up after some initial confusion you hear mike on the other side.

"mike? what the actual hell? its been two days, thought you somehow managed to get lost in the snow."

he laughed on the other line, able to tell you're insult at his intelligence meant you cared. his voice sounds hoarse.

"yeah, yeah i know. i'm sorry. something came up and i...i've been stuck in this damn police station-"

"police station? jesus, how hard did you guys party."

he calls your name and it's serious. he only sounds like that when something important or bad has happened.

"mike? is everything ok?"

"no, no its not. josh is...he's gone. the cabins gone. we're all pretty messed up."

you don't give a response, waiting for him to elaborate if he wants to.

"i don't know what to say..i'm so sorry."

"it's alright. i'll explain more when i get back. i just wanted to hear your voice."

"now you're really scaring me."

he laughs again, the scratch of his voice returning.

"thank you."

"for what? constantly insulting you and bringing you back to reality?"

"for making me laugh. haven't done it in a while."

"yeah, well...i'll make sure your roommate hasn't completely trashed your dorm. and we can get some takeout. on me, because i'm polite."

"screw that, we're going on a date."

your heart skips.

"did you actually get a concussion because that's not funny."

"im serious. no more being a pussy. time to start getting serious. plus we're basically already dating, so."

"god, why does everyone keep saying that?"

"i'll see you soon."

the phone hangs up and you toss the phone to the side with a slight smile.

[greythemed]

𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ bloodhounds . kim gun-woo

˚ TITLE 𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ lovesick ˚ WORD COUNT 𓂃 ♥︎ⴰ 1936

he looked unreal, all tanned with his beautiful eyes half closed as he looked down, full lips unconsciously forming a pout. his chest was bronzed and openly displayed for anyone with two eyes and a drooling mouth.

you wanted to eat him alive.

it was supposed to be a peaceful morning at your parents' beach house on the coast but, apparently, your boyfriend chose violence that day. with sleepy eyes and a drowsy appearance, you immediately realized that you accidentally fell asleep while trying to get tanned by the summer sun in the morning. luckily, the book you were reading fell from your grip at some point and didn't leave a funny mark on your stomach for woo-jin to laugh about later.

how can one person be so beautiful, inside and out? was he even real, or will you inevitably wake up to find the space beside you empty, his presence fading with your dreams?

you get goosebumps just imagining it.

feeling your eyes on him, gun-woo looked up from his drawing, a big smile forming on his pink lips.

"you look like shit, babe".

oh wow, what a day to feel loved.

"fuck off". you grumbled while sitting up and picking the book from the floor next to you, gun-woo's eyes never leaving your bikini form. "what took you so long to get here?". you asked him pouty.

"your mother asked me to move the sofa three times so she could do her pilates session in the living room". gun-woo couldn't help but laugh at his answer, never imagining he'd be in this position someday.

it was your first family trip as a couple, and also the first time gun-woo went on a plane and traveled since his school's excursion in 9th grade to say the best. you were happy to see him happy. it was thrilling to see the man in another setting, different from the usual gym clothes or café outings you guys first got to know each other. you considered yourself a good girlfriend, providing these opportunities for both of you while so young, even if gun-woo was paying for basically everything other than the house you were staying. you were a good girlfriend, right?

so why the living hell was he acting so mean towards you?

"i'm sorry about that". you grimaced embarrassingly because of your mother. "just because you have an insane amount of muscle she thinks you're her personal guard". gun-woo laughs. that bright innocent smile that makes his eyes disappear.

fuck you kim geun-woo for being so mean.

"my mom used to say we should never neglect help from others, including offering help in the first place". he tells you with innocence, a sudden wave of sympathy running through his veins strong enough to make him vocalize his thoughts. you were too accustomed with this side of him, being together for almost 6 months. “she also used to say that we always must look for the best in people”.

he was too pure. so why could you only think other things like what was this man saying? and why wasn't he kissing your mouth right now?

you embarrassingly found yourself in this predicament more times than you could count with your boyfriend.

the sound of his voice didn't shake you out of your sleepy daze, looking up at him with eyes full of love and wonder. like a lovesick puppy whose brain didn't seem to register the spoken words, too caught up in its own reverie.

when he didn't get the reply he was hoping for, gun-woo finally put down the pen and paper and leaned closer to you, your knees now touching and you almost choked on your saliva.

you loved him too much. and he was so hot.

“y/n?” he asked softly, placing a hand on top of your lap, the feel of his surprisingly cold hands against your warm skin almost making you shiver.

"i was so worried when i woke up and didn't see you, figured you'd be reading here". his smile continued to be nothing other than soothing, comforting, and exclusive.

exclusive for you and only you.

"woo-jin tried facetiming early this morning but i was still sleeping, i kind of feel bad for him not being able to come this time". he rambles. "and i also feel bad for sleeping so late, i hope your parents don't mind it. yesterday was a good day".

of course it was a good day. it was gun-woo's first ever private flight and you couldn't put your mind around the fact that this man's whole life was a huge unfair exposure to only the bad in life. you wanted to cry suddenly. cry for everything cruel that happened to him. cry for his still pure but poorly scarred heart. cry for his smiles and goodmorning pecks. cry for his fucking six-pack and spy reflexes.

cry because he was yours. exclusively.

without saying a word, you gently pulled his hands away before wrapping yours around his shoulders in a much-needed hug, the love you felt for him overwhelming all your senses. his arms found their place around your waist immediately, pulling his body closer and pouring all his love into you in return.

it was his fault for dating such a crybaby and he knew it, because the second he touched your waist and ribs, the boxer knew you were about to cry because of your uneaving breathing.

gun-woo hesitated for a second, giving your body another squeeze before finally speaking.

"are you okay, princess?" his voice was calm as he gently stroked your hair, knowing damn well you got emotional in the mornings sometimes. his 'bedroom voice' - that's what you called, don't judge - was enough to make your eyes sting, causing you to snuggle closer to his neck with a nod.

"'m okay".

you loved his bedroom voice - again, don’t judge the name you came up with -, it was special for you. it held something ethereal in the fact that he dropped a few octaves to talk to you and only you. the intimacy he could bring only by speaking more calmly to you, everywhere you both were together and tangled in each other's arms like right now.

everything was different. the setting, the weather, the clothes - it made you realize for the very first time in the six months of your relationship that dating itself shouldn't be overwhelming, tiring, or burdensome.

dating should feel like the books you grew up reading and the movies you grew up watching. anything other than that, it didn't belong to you in the first place.

you felt so comfortable in his embrace like you were floating on a fluffy cloud as the sun was slowly disappearing, so warm and safe. it was just the best, being with the man you loved, and nothing could come close to how you were feeling in his presence, surrounded by his unconditional love and care.

fuck, you were sounding like a corny teenager and it was embarrassing.

"y/n, you're going to tell me what's on your mind, aren't you?". the sound of his concern was evident in his voice, reminding you that - even if this man's thighs were the size of your head -, he still was worried and soft on the inside type of boyfriend.

you were his first girlfriend. gun-woo didn't know how to do things usually.

without missing a beat, you looked him in the eye for the question.

"i love you, gunwoo-ya". you started to pour your eyes out for no reason. you blamed the hormones, your mom would blame the weather and woo-jin would blame the books you read but you didn't care.

the corners of his mouth turned up in response, a soft, sincere smile stretching across his face because he was also just that: a lovesick puppy.

"i love you too". gun-woo wasn't expecting that, you could tell. he was too nonchalant for his own good sometimes.

like who the fuck wears pink bright shorts at his parents-in-law’s beach house? WITH NO SHIRT ON.

his eyes were full of love as he looked at you, the sun making the already beautiful landscape even more dazzling as time seemed to stop once more, everything but him disappearing at that moment. not being able to wait any longer, gun-woo then leaned his head up, pouty lips brushing yours teasingly for a moment before connecting in a proper kiss.

his touch was soft and tender, brushing against your mouth as he had so many times before, your tongue darting out to meet his briefly as his arms around your waist pulled you even closer. the sudden change in height since you got up from the bench was a different angle for both of you.

a silent moan escaped your lips as your barely clothed breast brushed against his, giving your boyfriend the perfect opportunity to slip his tongue properly inside your mouth for another taste.

his hands squeezed your sides lightly, applying just the right amount of pressure to feel good, and just as you were about to pull him even closer to deepen the kiss, he slowly pulled back, making you want his lips more.

a smile appeared on his face at that, the smugness behind it pouting in response. you straddled him so your faces were on the same level and suddenly the boxer went exe.error404

"jagi, your mom-". he spoke, his hot breath hitting your face with each exhale. you smirked at him.

he was so mean.

"how can you act innocent right after sucking my mouth dry a second ago, you monster?".

"but-". oh no. his cheeks were red, wide eyes searching for one of your parents to pop up from nowhere suddenly, hands finding no safe spot to grip at your sides, finally opting to put them in your waist, almost engulfing its whole circumference because of the size of his hands.

when a few moments passed and you still remained in the same state, he finally relented and sealed your lips once more in a quick kiss, one of his hands moving up from your waist to gently caress your swollen lower lip afterward.

“is that what you've been thinking about all this time, baby?". he asked embarrassingly, eyes avoiding your brown ones for all that was worth.

you nodded, your eyes roaming all over his face before reaching out to move some of the hair away from his eyes, gathering his attention.

"sorry, but yes". you pouted, a small smile starting to appear on the boxer's mouth. you could tell he was embarrassed to hear you confess he occupies your mind 24/7 as if he didn’t know that yet. "and that you are so irritably sexy".

not even one second after, gun-woo's hand is covering your mouth with his eyes wide open and a laugh escapes your lips. he instantly mouths for you to be careful.

"i didn't even say anything wrong!". you defend, automatically tracing his scar on the right side of his face like you are already used to, brushing his hair at the end.

"you want sexy time, i know you!". he whisper-shouts, now completely avoiding your gaze. you laughed.

"sorry". you were not. "it's not my fault you're wearing pink shorts! you can't do this to me, you're mean!". you whined on his lap.

"you were crying seconds ago, what happened?!". it was his turn to pout, looking genuinely confused at your change of emotions. "woojin-hyung said you were crazy when you guys first met".

"that old f-". gun-woo covered your mouth again, warning you. "he's lucky he didn't make it here".

this one is for my crybaby girlies i got you don't worry, gun-woo is here to wipe your tears and fuck your brains out - in a loving way. loved imagining beach!gunwoo a little too much.

[last-starry-sky]

kinktober day 4 - aphrodisiac // breeding

price x f!reader

[MDNI - NSFW - MIND THE WARNINGS: 1k, established relationship (wife), alcohol/drinking mention, you can imply the aphrodisiac usage either way (consensual or non) its vague so ymmv, same for the breeding kink.]

tag list (lmk if you'd like to be added!): @slut-lmao, @mishaglass

You’re sucking down your third captain and coke, slumping further and further down into the ratty leather of the booth John had stashed you in. He doesn’t do this often, go out with the boys. Drags you out with him even less. You know, he knows, that you hate doing things like this: wasting an evening listening to other people’s drunken conversations while John and his men shoot pool or play darts without you.

Tonight, however, the drinks are going down quick and easy. Too easy. John is nice enough to loop around to your table to drop a fresh glass off regularly, pecking a chaste kiss on your cheek asking, “How you holding up?”

The first two times, the answer is the same. A quick, snipped, “Fine,” through a tense smile. With a roll of your eyes you dramatically stir the dark liquid with your straw, ice cubes loudly crashing against the glass before sucking up a large sip. The bartender is pouring them strong tonight and you’d rather taste the soda with the alcohol, not just the alcohol. 

By the time John comes around the third time, however, you’re too drunk to notice at first. At least, drunk is the closest thing you can compare it too. Music and TV chatter compress into a buzzing drone. Voices fall out completely. You don’t know when, but you end up with your head pressed to the table, drink forgotten. The wood the only thing grounding you to reality. 

John strokes a cool hand over your cheek, rolling your head to face him. Funny. He always runs warm. Are you flushed? You feel like it. Your husband’s smiling face blurs into view as you’re moved. You can’t see much through your teary eyes. All you care about is his warm, strong hand on your skin. God you love him. The need to feel him hits you. Need him to keep touching you. 

“Look at me,” he says softly. His thumb strokes down to your lips and you moan. “Look at me, doll,” he repeats.

You can’t. Your eyes slip closed, soft sighs falling out as John continues to stroke your heated face. You wish you had the strength to reach up and touch him.

“Everything alright, Cap?” one of his friends calls out behind him. Kyle, you think. John turns away to answer, hand never leaving you.

“Wife’s a little sick,” he says. You can tell he’s got that sweet, disarming smile on his face, from just the tone of his voice. “Gonna bring her home.”

“Need help?” he asked.

“Nah,” John said hoisting you up, letting your head fall against his shoulder. “Got ‘er. Sorry to run out like this. Talk to you all tomorrow.”

“No problem,” you hear him respond as John walks away. “G’night to you and the missus.”

You didn’t remember much of the ride home. The cool leather seat below you. The rain pattering against the window. John’s hand twined around yours, warm fingers pressed to your pulse your tether to the world.

He must have carried you inside and upstairs, because the next thing you remember is your head landing on your pillow, sheets fluffing out around you. 

“John . . . ?” you croaked. It’s dark in the room. You’re suddenly very scared. Why do you feel so . . . syrupy? Hot and slick and-

You feel hands on your hips, sliding across your jeans to unbutton your fly. The zipper is pulled down, metal teeth crying as they are slowly pulled open. His hand rubs at your crotch as he pulls away, sending a zing of pleasure through you.

“I’m here, love,” he responded, low and gruff, pulling your pants off your hips. The cool air hitting your core makes you buck and shiver. “Good god,” your husband sighed, hand palming your pussy through your drenched panties, “That shit made you wet. Real fuckin’ wet.” 

You whined, hips chasing the pressure of his fingers. You’re so unbelievably turned on you need any and all stimulation he’ll give you. 

“Yeah?” he asked pulling your ruined panties down by the gusset. He laid over you, body pressing to yours, allowing him to rumble his words right against your pulse. “Want me that bad?”

“Yes!” you cried out on instinct. You can feel your clit thrumming, hot and engorged, as you rut against whatever part of his body is closest: thigh, stomach, cock, you don’t care.  

John bit down on your neck, right behind your ear, groaning as he pushed inside you. You shrieked, crying at how fucking good his bare cock felt, at the bright, sparking combination of pain and pleasure as he continued to nip down your throat.

He rocked into you slow and steady. You fell into a hypnosis, listening to his cock squelching into your juicy pussy, moaning in rhythm as he pushed in then pulled out. 

“Fuck,” he groaned into your ear, his hands smoothing up your torso to hold your face. “Gonna finish like this,” a drip of sweat fell from the tip of his nose as he spoke against your lips. “Want to. Wanna-fuck” He bit his lip and he rolled his hips down into you, savoring the tight pull of your cunt as you clenched. “Wanna put a baby in you. Fuckin’ . . . fill you up all night. Cum ‘till ’m shooin’ dust for you, love. Just wanna see you-” He paused to stroke at your navel. Palming the phantom bump he imagined there. “-see you round ‘n-fuck, fuckin’ full with our kid.” 

His hand came back up to squish your tit, molding it in his palm. “Tell me you want it,” he said rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “Tell me to cum in you” 

His fingers didn’t stop until you squeaked out john john john yes john that had him crashing back down to claim your mouth. His kiss blanked out your mind. In the swirl of tongues and teeth, you didn’t even notice the faltering pattern of his thrusts, how he groaned deep oh’s as he slammed into you three final, stuttering, times before collapsing his head into the crook of your neck.   

“I love you,” you whispered hoarsely as he tried to catch his breath.

“Love you too,” he said, turning his mouth to your cheek, breathing ragged. “Love you so much.”

[zeltqz]

want a taste | gojo satoru

/teɪst/ the sensation of flavour perceived in the mouth and throat on contact with a substance.

pairing. gojo x bff fem!reader

word count. 1.4k

synopsis. high out of their minds, reader decides to give gojo a blowjob in the middle of the cinema.

authors note. short smut bc i had gummies the other day and dreamt about sucking gojo off

The two of you cannot stop laughing, quiet snickers filling up the air, totally oblivious to the irritated glares coming from the random people trying to enjoy the movie.

“Look at her hair!” You bring your voice to a whisper—even though your voice is practically booming—and point at the awkward messy ponytail on the girl on the screen. It doesn’t even look that bad; but your brain is fried and smoky, so it looks all wonky. “It looks like you.”

The joke doesn’t even make sense, but he’s laughing anyway.

“Shut up.” He playfully shoves you away, already missing your warmth and tugs you back to rest your head on his shoulder, rubbing a hand along the curve of your shoulder, cherishing you close to him.

“Do you have another ?” You ask, sitting up for a second to dig through his coat pocket, pulling out a mini container filled with more gummies.

He watches as you eagerly throw another one in your mouth and has to stop you before you manage to grab another. “Take it easy, (y/n)—” he’s snatching the other gummy from your mouth, slotting it back inside the container and putting it back into his pocket, ensuring its zipped up for more security.

“C’mon—don’t be a pussy.” You’re pouting and trying to reach inside his pocket once more whilst also chewing pretty loudly on the gummy. Maybe its because your mouth feels so sore and numb that you’re chewing so recklessly, but you choose to blame it on the weed anyway. “Gimme another, I don’t feel it yet—”

“Stop lyin’ you’re higher than me right now.”

Gojo still has some sense of where he is and his actions right now, but you? Gone. Faded. Disappeared.

“I’m not!”

“SHHHHHH!” A person a couple rows ahead of you has to turn around, hand over their lips and though half their face is covered from the darkness in the room, Gojo doesn’t fail to see the bothersome look on his face that had been brewing the entirety of your stay here.

You shush him back just as loudly, giggling once more when he turns back around and mumbles some irritated words under his breath.

“Sorry, repeat that?” You have no control over your volume and the man jolts in his seat at your booming voice. Gojo's hand moves so quickly and efficently, saving the day by planting it over your mouth, effectively shushing you for real this time as you struggle to rip his hand away.

“Sorry about her.” He apologises to the few people in front of him. They all grunt out a ‘its fine’ despite the fact they all wanted to strangle you into the seat.

Fortunately for them, Gojo’s hand remains over your mouth for the next five minutes and you’re silenced.

You take this little time-out to examine Gojo’s face, losing yourself in the beauty known as his side profile as he watches the movie. He lightly chews on his bottom lip and you get the sudden urge to kiss him, see how they feel under your own.

You tap on his thighs once, twice before he nods at you, eyes still facing the screen as he watches, invested in the plot now.

“I wanna have sex.”

At that exact moment, a popcorn kernel gets lodged in his throat and he jolts forward, coughing a couple times to get it out.

“That could be me choking on your dick if you’d let me.” You say with zero filter and Gojo’s ears go red, redder than you’d ever seen before. It’s visible under the light of the big screen, slowly creeping up to his cheeks.

“You’re not fucking funny, don’t—” The kernel is still there, just enjoying itself at home and its uncomfortable to speak. 

He coughs once more and you sit up on the chair, latching your lips onto his neck, sucking on the skin there to make it as red as his ears.

“We’re in public—stop.” 

“When has that ever stopped you, hm?” You mumble against the length of his throat, sucking widly. 

His actions completely conflict his thoughts, moving his neck to the side to give you more room. You hum against his skin, and he shivers feeling the vibrations ripple across his body. 

You fight the urge to climb into his lap, fingers skimming over the zipper of his pants as you drag your lips up to his jawline, mapping your way up to his lips.

Gojo has to remind himself to blink when you kiss him, closing his eyes and letting himself get lost in the feeling of your tongue licking into his mouth fervourously.

Maybe it’s the weed, or maybe you’re just a fucking good kisser; he doesn’t know, but he allows you to control the kiss, holding his head in place as you switch angles, shifting further up the seat till you’re practically on his lap.

It’s a miracle you’re both seated in the back row. It’s late at night too, meaning most people aren’t here but the little ones that are, they're all seated near the front.

There’s a three-row gap between your row and the nearest available person.

“Can I suck your dick?” There’s a thin string of spit connecting you both when you pull away, drawing him in with that seductive look in your eyes as you tug at the zipper of his jeans.

The chair squeaks when he pushes you off his lip and you smile up at him, dropping to your knees on the floor and fumble with his zipper.

Hooking his index finger, he bites down on it to stop himself from making any uncessary noises—the last thing he needs right now is to get kicked out of a public cinema.

He shivers when you bring his dick out of his pants, the cold air slapping against his shaft has him almost regretting he agreed to do this, but it is too late to back down now.

Way too late.

You look at his cock like it's single handedly the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen, tugging his pants down more to free his balls from the restraints of his boxers.

Leaning forward, your tongue at the tip, small kitten licks that have him sucking in a breath, holding the air in his lungs to stop himself from thrusting his hips up to feel more of your mouth.

He almost moans when your fingers drum against his balls, cupping them gently and massaging them as you fit the tip inside your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to stimulate his cock more.

“God damn, fuck—” He rasps out, panting against his finger, biting down on it harder when you start bobbing your head up and down, up and down. “Your mouth, fuck—” He doesn’t care anymore, thrusting his hips up to shove his cock so deep inside, craving the warm wetness of your mouth.

You choke, rather louder than you had expected but you don’t care, not when your throat is being used like this. Tears brim at the corners of your eyes and your fingers fly up to the hand on your head, pressing down on your head to push yourself further.

He lets out a choked off gasp when his cock reaches the entrance of your throat, thrusting just a little more before he’s entering it. “Fuck!” He pants, not really giving two fucks about his volume, pushing your head down till your nose brushes against his pelvis, keeping you there long enough before his tip starts to twitch, leaking out precum that you eagerly swallow.

Your throat muscles squeeze and contract around his cock and he’s biting his lip, hand flying up to his mouth to cover his moan as he explodes down your throat.

You swallow it all, waiting till every last bit is gone before you suck all the way to the tip of his cock, tapping his thigh to grab his attention. When his eyes meet yours, he almost cums again because you’re slowly taking him all the way once more; throat fully trained for his length and choke yourself a couple times at the base.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, I swear.” He says, voice shaky as he pants, trying to regulate his breathing. You smile around his cock when his hand cups your cheek, rubbing your skin and leaning into his touch.

“Mmm, yeah you owe me though.” You slide back onto the chair next to him, two fingers hooking under his chin and dragging him to your face, greedily sucking on his lips.

He smiles when the taste of his cum just lingers in your mouth, slow languid strokes of his tongue against your own have you falling into soft moans.

What the both of you failed to realise is your volume; once again, totally oblivious to the disgustedly irritated glares coming from the people as they listen to the soft moans leaving your mouth as you let Gojo loudly suck along the length of your tongue.

[imtrashraccoon]

Hmm... golden boys 💪

So, with Dream Sans, perhaps a reader who has snuck in a small puppy and is currently giving it a bath-

The only reason how Dream found the two is the strangely Reader-shaped footprints of mud tracked along the floor and into the bathroom... and the squeaky barking.

(For added effect, Reader is a muddy MESS from wrestling the puppy to stay in the bath 🤭)

I thought because you originally sent a similar ask for Lord Nightmare, I would do this in a similar style? So, enjoy a special Don't Imagine, just for you my friend...

Don't Imagine finding a small lost puppy behind the barn covered in mud. How it's big sad eyes instantly melt your heart and how you can't possibly leave it there. How you look around to see if anyone is watching but thankfully find no one.

Don't Imagine scooping the poor thing up into your arms when you realize it really is by itself. How you don't even care that now you're all muddy too. How it whimpers and whines, trying to break free from your grasp. How you wonder if it's had bad experiences with people to be this afraid of you.

Don't Imagine tucking the pup into your coat and slipping back to the cottage. How you open the door a crack and listen intently before stepping inside, just in case your master returned early. How you heave a sigh of relief when it seems that he's still out.

Don't Imagine heading straight for the bathroom. How you draw a warm bath and search the cabinets for a soap that would be safe for the puppy's fur. How you are forced to give up when its squirming proves to be too much to handle. How you nearly have to wrestle it into the tub.

Don't Imagine the poor pup absolutely wailing as you attempt to scrub the mud out of it's fur. How it struggles to get away but you manage to pull it back into the tub every time it gets remotely close to escaping. How you realize this would actually be sort of funny if you weren't in a bit of a rush to finish.

Don't Imagine nearly jumping out of your skin at the sound of a soft knock on the door that you had carelessly left ajar. How you can feel the affects of his presence and how you know that you've been caught. How your mind scrambles to think of any reasonable excuse but comes up short. How you know he would see through any lie you could make anyways.

Don't Imagine how Dream waits for you to turn around. How your heart sinks when he meets your gaze with an unreadable look. How you quickly look away and suddenly realize how big of a mess you've made. How you apologize profusely and promise to clean up the muddy footprints and the bathroom. How you wish he'd say something, anything, and not just stare at you like that.

Don't Imagine how he sighs and reassures you that he's not upset. How you tentatively look up, not fully believing him. How his expression takes on a pained look for a moment before he quickly hides it behind his usual smile. How he reiterates that you've done nothing wrong and how he actually praises you for helping the puppy.

Don't Imagine how he chuckles and kneels next to you. Definitely don't imagine how he carefully wipes some mud from your cheek. How he quietly compliments your kindness. How his touch lingers a moment longer than it probably should.

Don't Imagine how all the uncertainty seems to disappear. How your vision narrows until all you can focus on is his face. How you wonder why you were ever worried about him finding out in the first place. How he comments that the sanctuary could use a good guard dog and suggests that he doesn't mind if you want to keep the puppy. How quick you are to thank him, promising to take good care of it.

[lost-in-time-marie]

I find myself thinking tonight about human touch. There’s something written in the biology of a human to want touch, to need it, to be healed by it. The infants in the NICU that get held, a gentle hand placed on the head, one finger too large for them to even grasp, get better faster, grow bigger. You’d think I get some personal pleasure in making a mockery of biology the way I insist upon breaking its rules. But like so many biological behaviors and inherent drives, this too has become a twisted and corrupt thing for me.

I don’t like to be touched. I don’t remember anymore a time if I did. When some blaring catastrophic alarm wouldn’t go off under my skin at an unexpected grasp, a tap on the shoulder, a graze in passing. Even if I wanted the touch, or thought I did, if I had a crush, if I loved them, even if in a relationship with them. I would still feel the wrongness of it like a weight sinking in my chest.

I’ve learned to grow accustomed to certain touches. The familiar ones, akin to me or some effect of time and depth with me. Of course, the most difficult always remains with romantic love. There’s people I’ve loved with my whole heart and it didn’t stop the ants that live under my skin that can’t stand the feel of theirs. I’ve only known three men in ten days shy of 27 years that could touch me. That I didn’t have to bear, that I didn’t have to hide the grimacing, that didn’t cause that jarring screech to a halt. So far, I’ve lived to see two of them wither away and turn into something foul and rotten, until the skin shrinks away once more.

I can’t figure out what causes it, where the pattern is, what rules it follows. I’ve wanted to be in a loving relationship with people, but I couldn’t stand for them to touch me, and I could never grow accustomed. The three men that cause the anomaly couldn’t be more different, maybe a certain type or set of features here and there, but nothing significant. When I first meet them, there is something inherently familiar, comfortable, easy.

I’ve only met the third recently. I only met him for the first time less than a week ago. That was my worst fear, my biggest risk on this trip. I didn’t care about navigating the airports and all the flights and connections. I didn’t know if when I got there he would feel like a stranger, something foreign, something wrong. I didn’t really have a plan for what I would do if he did, maybe just pretend or run home early. I was hedging a bet, putting a lot of faith in that feeling in my chest when we would talk on the phone. It’s the first time I hear his voice and yet I’ve known this sound.

I look up to see him for the very first time in the airport. I’m staring down at my phone on purpose, because I don’t know what to do with my searching eyes, barely balancing the teeter-totter of unease and excitement inside me. He says something about finding me. I look up and I smile. And he is so familiar. I know him, I recognize him. And relief pours down in a rainfall from the crown of my head, soaking all the way to my toes. I feel self conscious, nervousness falls a blush on my cheek, but not because of a wrongness or strangeness. There’s a touch of something familiar, a curiosity at the yet unknown, excitement about all the possibility. And there is nothing wrong about it.

Funny, how that’s the part that scares me the most. I don’t know when I got so afraid to want things, not exactly anyways. But it is the first reflexive kick of my brain, the stone I turn in my pocket just for the comfort. If I don’t want it, if I don’t hope, it can’t hurt me.

~K.

[mothgodofchaos]

Moons

Soft angst comfort for the big werewolf boi.

Werewolf!Engineer x GN!Reader, TW: anxiety Words: 783

Looking out into space, the stars shift and move as the ship shoots past them, seeming slow only to those of you within its walls. The massive window on the main deck overlooks the planets and moon in the distance, and you catch yourself sipping your coffee as you admire the way their interstellar colors are like nothing you’ve ever seen back on Earth. It’s breathtaking, in a way.

Marcus stumbles out onto the main deck, stiffening when he sees you, visibly stressed. Something with the way his shoulders are tense, his knees locked, holding one hand behind his back.

“Marcus? Are you alright?”

“Uh- Captain! Funny seeing you here! Uh, yeah! Totally fine! See you around-”

“Marcus, get back here.”

He stops midstep, turning to face you, still keeping his hand hidden from your view. As you step towards him, you set your coffee cup down on the center console, reaching for his hand to hold.

“What’s going on? Why are you hiding your hand from me?”

His gaze doesn’t meet your eye, chewing the inside of his cheek as his head is bowed low. You duck to look him in the eye, connecting for a moment before he sighs. He pulls his hand out from behind his back, covered in fur and long claws protruding from the tips of his fingers.

“I started… shifting. Out here. I thought I’d be safe out here in the stars, but apparently werewolf curses don’t care if it’s your original moon or not. I was hoping to catch Celci, that she could ice me until we’re past the moons. I don’t want to hurt anyone, especially not you…”

You reach up to cup his face, which he leans into with a soft sigh. Small scritches under his jaw, calming the anxieties you know are building up inside him. If there’s anything you’ve learned from your adventures through the warpcore wormholes with him, is that letting him know you’re not afraid of him will do him more good than whatever scheme his brain tries to convince him is the correct course of action.

“That big brain of yours is being loud again? With the thoughts?”

“Yeah…”

“Was there a timeline where you hurt me? In your wolf form?” “Well- no-”

“And yet you’ve been feeling guilty over things that were far less likely to happen in our timeline, right?”

“Yeah, but-”

“No but’s, you will not hurt me, Marcus. Even if you don’t trust yourself, I trust you. Because I know that you’d rather let your anxiety eat you up inside before asking for my help because you think my involvement may put me at risk.”

“...I hate it when you’re right.”

“You’re my moon and stars, Marsbar. I should hope I’m right. Here, because I’m assuming being in here is not helping, let’s go to my quarters, get you comfortable, and we’ll figure out what to do, alright?”

“Yeah… yeah I’d like that.”

He takes your hand, pressing a soft kiss to your palm as he reaches for your coffee, intent on carrying it for you. He squeezes your hand a bit tighter, head on more of a swivel as he tries to anticipate any people that you may interact with.

“Breathe, Mars. It’s okay. Everything is alright. Do you trust me?”

“Of course I do. I just wish I trusted myself. I-”

He nearly drops your coffee mug, swooning off to the side like the two of you are on a rocking boat. You catch your coffee, squeezing his hand tight as he holds his head, fur visibly growing on his skin.

“C’mon, we’re almost there. Just a few more steps, out of the sight of others.”

You nearly have to drag him into the room, using your captainly strong muscles to pull him in before locking the room. He crumples onto the floor, holding his head as his form strains against his coveralls, slowly tearing them at the seams and revealing soft auburn hair with stark white patches beneath. You rub his back as his shifting continues, just assuring him and reminding him that you’re here with him.

“That’s it, it’s okay. Here- the bed will be far more comfortable.”

You pick up his torn clothes as he hops up onto your bed, circling a few times with a whine, covering his face with his paws. All you can think to do is sit with him, letting him wrap himself around you as you rub his snoot. He rests his head in your lap, softly whining, barely audible at all.

“It’s okay, Marcus. And I’ll do this any time we have a moon problem, I promise. Captain duties can always wait for you.”

[sassysoulpersona]

Blood is War

Yo, so i just enter Record of Ragnarok fandom, and i'm a fan of Technoblade.

It may be one of my stupid or lovable idea, what if i combine those two like, Techno died(may he rest in peace) and he wake up in RoR!Ares body? I mean Techno knows about Greek Myth.

The funny part of this idea is that this version of RoR!Ares is Techno reborn, he watch the manga in this version so he knows the outcome but no one knows!

Techno!Ares got two forms, one is the RoR!Ares form the other is Technoblade's skin, not the human but the minecraft, the fanart, the animatic one, abviously im gonna still made the form tall for the drama and Techno!Ares act like RoR!Ares but its all an act k.

It goes something like this:

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ares walk down the corridor of valhalla, he is Technoblade, Alex, not Ares, but its cool, its just suck he died.

He got new life now, but something cool happen, he realize his minecraft combat skills got brought with him to this anime or manga or whatever world is, which is sick! But he act like the RoR!Ares, why? Because he like the deceit hes doing, and cuz he dont like these gods around, imagine their surprise when he turn to Technoblade.

Five Minutes Later

And they found out by accident which is suck because the one found out is Apollo, Heracles and Hermes, that quickly turn to triple sucks

How they found out you ask? Well. . .

Ares found this cool place! It has a spring thing that came up with hot water or something, he forgot the name, he remembers that this aint that Apollo place so he is safe or so he thought

He didnt realize three people came to that place to relax aswell, and he thought it would even be a better idea to enjoy it with the Techno!form, it is as tall as RoR!Ares but with Buddha body type.

Something Like This:

Found in Pinterest

And so he stupidly turn to his Techno!form before entering the spring despite hearing people walk in thinking those might be just some servant.

"Brother Ares?" He freze for a moment at the sound of vouce odly sound like Hermes before turning his head around

Lo and behold there standing a shock Apollo, Hermes and Hercules staring at him like some pinguin, and he just stare at them coldly, just outside tho, inside he is panicking.

"..." he didnt answer and turn his head back and enter the spring, not caring on outside look but crying on the inside, he give up.

Apollo POV:

I do not know what to say, i was bringing Justice-chan and Hermes-san to this place as a chance for gossiping.

When entering i see Ares standing there, his back facing us, i was about to call him when he suddenly changing form, his body turn a bit more slender and his hair turn pink and longer, his ears changes too i think.

Thats cant be right is it? Hermes call him, and when he turn i do not know why, but i feel chills running down my spine.

Ares eyes are. . . .

Red

He stare coldly at us, he never done that, the Ares i know never look at us like that, Never.

Even his face look different, and did he just ignore us??

Techno!Ares POV:

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck im screwed" i think to myself while sitting down in the hot spring not looking at the three who also sitting there

"Brother.. Ares?" I heard Hermes said calling my now name, i just eyeing him, he look shock, didnt know he could make that expression

"What" i said voice colder then i intended to be, fuck

".... nothing" he said looking away from my gaze, and so theres silence between the four of us

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So yeah thats how they found out