#NO FUCKING RESPECT. NO *FUCKING* RESPECT!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[forlix]

𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞・b.c.

— incurable playboy turned doting boyfriend was a character development arc nobody saw coming for christopher bang, including (especially) his frat brothers.

words・2.8k pairing・frat president!chris x gn!reader genres・fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, college!au, fuckboy!chris, boys being boys, kissing, implied sex so mdni warnings・substance use, talk of past heartbreak

a/n・here is "nobody believes you're dating" w/chan, requested by none other than my @rachalixie for my 2k event !! anny, i hope u love this fic as much as i love u; thank you for allowing me to write something so self-indulgent <3

In the deafening throes of one of Phi Mu Alpha’s spring kickbacks, Minho finds Jeongin and Seungmin standing in motionless silence by the kitchen counter. Both boys are gaping at something with an intensity that dips egregiously into the realm of creepy.

He moves to pour himself a shot. “What the fuck are you people looking at?”

Seungmin prods a pointer finger in the relevant direction. It takes a few seconds of scanning the scene for Minho to find what he’s referring to. He digs a knuckle into his eye, instantly confused by what he’s seeing. Maybe the gaping is justified.

The windows and doors have all been thrown open to invite the balmy April weather into the foyer of the frathouse. There’s a large crowd of people huddled around a long, foldable table stationed before the stairs; Jaehyun clutches a ping-pong ball between his fingers, singular eye squinted shut as he takes aim. The number of remaining solo cups dwindles rapidly, as does the players’ sobriety.

Something—someone—is missing.

Not to say “beer pong virtuoso” was one of the reasons Chris was elected frat president, but you’d think the guy had a career path in basketball with how he’s given the entire Greek life community alcohol poisoning by courtesy of two or three plastic balls alone. Minho has never known him to miss a shot, let alone miss out on a game.

Today, however, the reigning champion is only spectating, seated above the ongoing match on one of the steps of the main staircase.

A beautiful stranger is sitting beside him, cheek pressed to his shoulder as you peer at the match through the bannister.

You say something inaudible. The laugh it earns from Chris is bright enough to pick up from a few streets down. He leans in to murmur something in return, and you slide your hand over his nape to pull his mouth onto yours, light blush crawling up and over your ears. The way Chris melts into you can only be described as familiar, his eyes slowly fluttering shut, finger hooking delicately beneath your chin, grin going lopsided as your lips part—

“That’s enough,” Minho hisses, tearing his eyes away with considerable effort. “Aren’t you ashamed? Just fucking ogling.”

Jeongin shakes his head, grinning. “It’s dinner and a show. We’d be idiots not to.”

By dinner, he must mean the gallon of chocolate milk he’s been drinking from for the last hour. He now holds out said gallon with the intent to cheers. Seungmin picks up the entire handle and does the same.

Minho sighs, clinks his glass against theirs, and they throw back their respective refreshments in unison.

“Anywho.” Jeongin swipes the back of his hand over his mouth before going on. “You guys know who that is?”

Minho resurfaces with a wince, relishing in the bitter aftermath, then motions for Seungmin to give the bottle back straightaway. He arrived to the function late and he’s not nearly as drunk as he’d like to be.

Seungmin obliges Minho only after another heady swig. “No clue. Probably just another fling, no?”

“Mmm,” Jeongin hums in assent. “It’s Chris we’re talking about, after all.”

"Agreed. Case closed.”

There’s an air of finality in Seungmin’s voice—but Minho isn’t so sure.

Perhaps because he has never noticed that Chris had dimples until now; or because you fold so naturally into Chris' side after your kiss ends, head nuzzling against the crook of his neck and hand seeking out his to hold in your lap; or, most likely, because Chris' eyes seem to return to you when he looks at you, as if his gaze drifting anywhere else is but a momentary departure from where it really belongs. As if he comes home every time you come into his line of vision.

Whatever the reason, the idea coalesces in Minho’s mind, even as inebriation begins to fall over his cognitive faculties like a curtain, that the boys have got it wrong.

Jeongin utters his name, jolting him out of his trance. There’s another shot lifted halfway to Minho’s lips that hasn’t budged in minutes. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Minho looks at Jeongin first, Seungmin next, then back at Chris and his stunning companion. He’s not inclined to answer the question in full, but he can in truth. A coy smile crosses his face.

“Threesome?”

Jeongin laughs hard enough to collapse onto the kitchen island. Seungmin drags a hand down his face. “Come on, man.”

In the corner of his eye, you’ve gone back to kissing again, slow and sweet and secretive. Chris' gentle hold on your jaw shields you from view but fails to hide his lovesick smile. Dimly, Minho thinks that maybe his friend has met his match.

Then, he takes four shots in rapid succession—and stops thinking altogether.

Christopher Bang’s love life is like a horror movie and romcom spliced together: a fiasco of a film to which his housemates have front row seats.

The frat’s upperclassmen live in sets of four-bed, two-bath suites comprising a small common space with a kitchen and a sitting area, sandwiched by bedrooms on either side. It is in that common space that Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung often see or hear Chris stumbling home after a night out, entangled with a different attractive stranger every time—so often, in fact, that they’ve come to believe that he’s deathly allergic to anything bigger than a one-and-done hookup.

They can’t judge. In part because they’d be throwing stones from glass houses, but also because the man’s penchant for empty physicality is far from unfounded. His past self gave pieces of his heart to the wrong people, contracted first-degree burns from the guileless warmth he sought out. Now, his version of “intimacy” is less a connotation of closeness than it is a self-contradiction, for it should be impossible for so much distance to remain between two people in a single bed.

Chris hasn’t vocalized any of this. Nor have his housemates discussed it with each other. The knowledge simply exists in the air between the four of them like something akin to taboo, dipping in and out of acknowledgement depending on the circumstance.

This might be the circumstance of all time.

At around 11:40 A.M. on a Saturday, three doors in the suite open at once. Hyunjin and Changbin aren’t coincidence—the latter is coercing the former to go to the gym again—but they lift their eyes to the opposite side of the living room, and the slice of milk bread dangling from Hyunjin’s lips very nearly takes a fatal fall. Changbin manages to snatch it up with an extended hand.

Chris has just emerged from his room as well. Your silhouette follows close behind, your mouth stretching into a yawn as you massage the sleep from your eyes. You’re sporting a mesh green sweater identical to one Chris owns. They find Chris' accessories more interesting than his clothes, though: two hickeys peeking out from beneath his jaw and the base of his neck.

Chris sees Hyunjin and Changbin right away, and his expression goes utterly blank, not unlike their faces as they watch you close his door meticulously. You turn around and gasp.

The four of you stare at each other for what feels like multiple business days. At least, Hyunjin, Changbin, and Chris stare at each other; your eyes dart between the men on the other side of the room and the man next to you, silently pleading for him to say something. He does not for a long while.

Then, he lunges for one of the throw pillows on the couch and flings it at Hyunjin like a shot put. It ricochets off his chest and lands on the floor rather anticlimactically.

“Distraction!” Chris yells anyways, grabbing your hand and tearing towards the exit, wild grin on his face. “Go, go, go!”

Your raucous laughter lingers even after you’ve been hauled away, accompanied by an unintelligible, breathless shout of something along the lines of my toothbrush—and then the front door clicks shut, and there are two.

Changbin and Hyunjin lock eyes, struggling to process what just happened. Hyunjin is the first to move, wandering hesitantly into the bathroom that Chris and Jisung share. Nothing about the place looks out of the ordinary.

“Well, shit,” Hyunjin says out loud.

Aside from the two toothbrushes slotted in the holder on Chris' side of the counter, that is.

Something moves in the bathroom window, catching his attention. Hyunjin looks over just in time to spot you and Chris dart out onto the lawn two floors below. Chris has his arm draped over your shoulders, yours wrapped around his waist. Your smile is discernible all the way from here, and Hyunjin sees a perfect mirror of it on his friend’s face when Chris glances at the frathouse over his shoulder. 

Has he always had dimples?

Moments later, Changbin joins him in peering out the window. A high-pitched cackle erupts from the older boy’s lips. “Look at that idiot.”

Standing off to the left is a tiny, astonished Han Jisung, his arms full of groceries, jaw sitting squarely the grass and whites of his eyes on full display as he watches you and Chris stroll away.

Hyunjin laughs with his whole fucking body. Changbin whips out his phone and takes a picture.

When you finally breach the topic, it’s because you don’t think you can physically study for another minute—but also because, after multiple long months of fruitless sparring, your curiosity finally wins.

Your boyfriend is seated in your desk chair, feet kicked up onto your mattress with his laptop propped up on his thighs. His features have rearranged themselves into an expression of intense focus. You can hear the music blaring through his headphones from all the way here.

You uncross your legs from below you, scootch across your bed, and lift your hands to cradle his cheeks. He starts as if jolted out of a trance, then starts to smile when he reads the words hi, Channie off your lips.

His headphones fall around his neck. He sets his laptop down onto your desk with a dull thunk. The next thing to drop is you when Chris seizes you by the waist and tackles you into the mattress. The somber atmosphere of your study session is shattered by your muted laughter and Chris pressing his lips to every inch of your exposed skin he can. He saves your mouth for last.

“Hey, beautiful,” he answers after kissing the living daylights out of you, the syllables soft and silky with adoration. “Missed me?”

The room’s dim lightning sets your boyfriend aglow. You drag your eyes from his brown irises with blown pupils to his sloping nose, from his disheveled dark locks to his cordate lips, so plush and warm against your own that you swear you still feel them there. 

“Always,” you say, brushing a hand over the back of his neck, your head now spinning so badly you can barely remember what you wanted to ask him. “I was starting to feel jealous of your homework.”

He chuckles. “Shit, I’ll drop out of college right now, baby. Just say the word.”

“You’re perfect,” you hum, nudging the tip of your nose against his.

“Says you.”

Your lips find his again—needless to say, your study sessions aren’t known for their productivity—and a lot of time passes before you come up for air. Even afterwards, Chris doesn’t let you go far, pulling you into his chest by the curve of your waist, nuzzling his cheek into your hairline. You only need to murmur for him to hear your question.

“Can I ask you something?”

“'Course,” he returns, and you’re close enough to sense him tighten with apprehension. “Everything okay?”

“Yes. Don’t worry.” You print a kiss to the side of his neck for extra reassurance. “It’s just…I’ve been meaning to ask how your friends feel about me.”

He tightens with something else now: surprise, you’re guessing, hoping. You hadn’t seriously considered that the answer could be negative, but it’s dawning on you now that the possibility of that isn’t zero.

“Where’s this coming from?” Chris inquires, his tone opaque.

You hesitate, mentally reviewing your interactions with your boyfriend’s social circle. Hyunjin and Jisung can’t make eye contact with you when they speak to you. Minho does nothing but make eye contact with you whether he’s speaking to you or not. Jeongin and Seungmin can maintain small talk for about ten seconds before they start looking like they would rather be anywhere else. Changbin is the only one you’ve held a conversation with, and only because you were going up the same stairs at the same time and the alternative would have been mind-numbing silence.

What is the best way for you to say this?

“Well,” you begin, “I can’t help but notice that they act a little—when I’m around, they’re a bit, uh—”

“—crazy,” Chris offers. “Completely fucking bat-shit crazy.”

“Yes. Exactly that.”

Chris threads a hand through your hair, the comforting gesture doing nothing to assuage your worry. It seems there’s some truth behind your impressions. Your next words are tinged with a quiet sadness.

“I’m not imagining things, then?”

“No, angel,” he sighs. “But not for the reasons you think.”

A beat passes. Chris perceives your silence as a chance to backtrack, to opt out of this conversation if it’s one he’s not ready for. He would’ve leapt at the opportunity once.

But he realizes in that moment, with your voice gentle against his ears and your touch so doting upon his skin, how much has changed since he met you: from the color of the sky to the word home and everything in between, including his cynicism towards love and all the iterations of forever it holds. 

With that epiphany comes another, then another: he wants you to know why his friends are acting insane, wants you to know about him and his past and all the wounds of his you never know you healed, wants you to spend the rest of this forever with him.

His pointer finger dusts beneath your chin, a wordless request for you to look at him, and he nearly liquifies when you do and he finds entire constellations in your eyes. 

“It’s a lot,” he mumbles, though he suspects you know that already; he suspects you know about the other stuff, too. 

You bring your hand to the side of his face, bring your forehead to rest upon his. Your closeness washes over him like a low summer tide lapping over sandy shores, a soothing balm spreading over scorched flesh. 

“It’s you,” you whisper. “I will love it just the same.”

Chris' held breath comes out in shudders.

So this is warmth.

Minho and Felix are watching anime on the couch when a knock comes at their door, unfortunately during a pivotal moment of a pivotal episode. 

Minho hits pause with a ghastly groan. Felix laughs and rises to his feet, dashing into his room to grab the two silver necklaces he’ll be loaning out for the evening. “Coming!”

Outside, Chris is standing alone, hips and thighs accentuated by a pair of tight-fitting dress pants, sculpted chest and collarbones framed by a thin, cream-colored shirt with the top three buttons undone. Most of his hair has been pushed off his forehead, leaving a few locks free to fall over his right eyebrow. He’s rolling up his sleeves when Felix opens the door, veined forearms flexing as a result of the effort.

“Well?” He asks. Minho cranes his neck to look past Felix.

Both boys start to holler and whistle like excited macaques.

“What in the Calvin Klein is this?” Felix shouts, spinning Chris around by the shoulders. “You look insane, bro. Holy fuck.”

“What’s the occasion, young man?” Minho inadvertently sounds like a gruff uncle. “Where are you going dressed like that, huh?”

Chris' laugh comes easier nowadays. What’s more, it comes in a way that reaches the rest of him, that ends in a tiny, high squeak that you really have to look for in order to hear. Felix and Minho can't help but replicate his smile. Those clothes look good on him, yes, but happiness looks even better.

“You guys are silly,” Chris giggles. Dimples indent his cheeks as he accepts the necklaces from Felix. “Thanks, man. I’ll give ‘em back tomorrow.”

“No rush,” Felix replies, grinning. “Have fun, yeah?”

“We will.” Chris starts to retreat down the hallway, hands moving to clasp the jewelry around his neck, but not before he blows the both of them a kiss.

“Be back before ten!” Minho hollers; Chris laughs again, turns a corner, and disappears.

Felix closes the door. His smile falters fast. Minho has brought his face mere centimeters away, his expression thoroughly humorless.

“Tell me only the truth, Lee Yongbok,” he deadpans.

“O-okay—”

“Is Chris in a relationship?”

“—oh.” Felix frowns. “Well, yeah.”

Minho blanches. “How—how long?”

“One year, give or take? Anniversary’s today.”

Minho is stunned. Felix is stunned that Minho is stunned.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

#bang chan x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids smut #skz smut #bang chan smut #chan x reader #chan smut #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #bang chan x you #stray kids x you #bang chan imagines #bang chan scenarios #bang chan fanfic #*minific #*writing

[thefantasyden]

Stray Kids reaction to different sub types

Now, the sub types I chose for each member are all different, but I hope you'll enjoy none the less.

Smut warning as always.

Chris:

Puppy Subs

Non Sexually: I think Chris is a great fit for puppy subs! Eager for affection, ready to please.

Chris would be a little confused at first, not really sure how to interact with you until he realises he can, in fact, just treat you like a dog.

He'd be so happy coming home to you, petting your hair, and asking if you've been good today. He almost always bring you home some kind of snack or treat because he always sees things that make him think of you.

He would low-key love the way you cling to him in public and your annoyed grumbles when you started getting sleepy or wanted more attention. CHAN PUPPY SUB LOVER he just thinks they're so cute.

Sexually: he loves the kind of sex that he doesn't have to think for, and a needy puppy in heat caters to that perfectly. Not to mention the breeding kink!

There's nothing that makes him cum quite as hard as rambling to his puppy about how he's gonna breed them as a reward for taking him so well and hearing you whine out your desperate pleas in response.

"Ohhhh my puppy. You want a bone, huh? C'mere."

Minho

Innocent Sub

Non Sexually: Minho would LOVE an innocent and obedient sub. One that never really questions what he's doing because they trust him that much. There's nothing better than being trusted so completely that he can manouver you wherever he wants and give you any task knowing you'll complete it without complaint.

He's on it from the go, testing out your submission by giving you the most random tasks at all times of the day.

Min likes these types even more because he can do anything he wants and people won't think twice because you appear to be so sweet. They don't question when he slots his thigh between yours and spreads your legs with his or when he pulls you down onto his lap out of nowhere, and that thrills him.

Sexually: He loves rewarding you. He doesn't need to have a real reason because he can just make one up. Half the time you can't understand why brushing your teeth or folding your laundry has earned you the opportunity to be spread out on his bed so he can devour you like he was made for it, but you won't complain.

He'll tease you endlessly, too. A good mix of feathery touches that tickle your skin and firm groping that both grounds you and knocks all thought from your brain. Constantly making you tell him that you like what he's doing, because it sounds songood in your slightly confused, dazed voice.

"Uh uh, use your words. Tell me how good I make you feel and then you can cum."

Changbin:

'Alpha' Sub

Non Sexually: This isn't controversial in any way, but Binnie wouldn't love a sub who also commands respect around others. He let's you wear the pants in public, no questions asked because it makes him proud to see how people are slightly scared of you because of your take no shit attitude.

If anyone guessed, they might even think he was the sub in your relationship with the way you boss him around, but he knows the second he asks you to do something you'll be jumping to make it happen. You're actually very obedient and well trained.

Sexually: He can't help but get turned on when you're being all commanding and strong. It's the contrast that does it for him, and he'll have you kneeling in front of him as soon as you're alone, massinging your scalp with a firm grip onnyour hair as you nuzzle at his thigh, dreamy sighs blessing his ears.

You're the kinda sub that he can fuck dumb really easily and he uses that to his advantage. Every. Single. Time. He's God great control so he won't cum until he's make you cum around his cock a few times, and even then he's going multiple rounds. He knows you'll take it every time.

"There's my baby. I know you can take the whole thing. You don't need to think about it, ok?"

Hyunjin:

Princess Sub

Non Sexually: Hyune loves a princess because he loves to dress you up and show you off, but not in the same way one would with a bimbo. Nom Hyunjin likes having the most beautiful, untouchable person in the room wrapped around his fingers.

He would appreciate the way a Princess Sub carries themselves. They know their worth, and they don't settle, so he gets to revel in the fact that you chose him and continue to choose him every day. You've deemed him worthy of your submission, and that's everything to him.

Sexually: His favourite thing is to fuck his Princess fully clothed. Both of you. The neediness of it, the dishevelled appearance you come out with. Something about ruining you really gets him going and once he starts, he can't stop.

He gets off on knowing that you're seen as someone that nobody could live up to, yet you're doing filthy depraved things for the sole purpose of his pleasure, and of course returning the favour tenfold.

"Look at you. God, you're a masterpiece, you know that?"

Han:

Slutty Subs

Non Sexually: he loves the clinginess. The way you always want to be close to him, on him.not only is the physical pressure of your body in his something he finds incredibly soothing and grounding, but he always thrives when he feels wanted and craved in the way you show.

It's hard for him not to blush and feel a little awkward when you insist on longer kisses and sitting on his lap despite the free seat next to him, but he really does adore it. Even when your hands start wandering a little too much.

Sexually: The NEEDINESS. God, having you begging for him any time you're alone drives him wild. He's capable of being calm. Don't get me wrong. But when you rile him up, all bets are off and he's taking you over the nearest surface.

Also, lots of CASUAL sex. Cockwarming during movies, fingering you when he's scrolling through his phone, your warm mouth wrapped around his cock when he's working. It's a strange sort of affection thing between you and the intimacy is the most important part of sex for Sungie, so he kind of loves that it's more about you showing how much you love and need him then just you hunting for an orgasm.

"Ah, fine! You can put it in your mouth, but no moving until I say so."

Felix:

Experienced Subs

Non Sexually: Felix and experienced subs are a matched made in heaven. He's curious about so many things and the fact that you're able to teach him how to do them means you get to turn him into your perfect Dominant, which is really all he's aiming for.

Felix is thrilled at how easily you'll bring up a new kink or a new toy and how quickly he's able to pick up from you, but even more than that, he's thrilled that you'd even bother to guide him.

He takes a special interest to after care if we're being frank. He loves to succeed at pushing you into a place of bliss and then soak up how song and pliant you are, snuggling you into his chest and fawning over you.

Sexually: The way you're able to figure out what he needs and give it to him will never fail to have him fucking you into the mattress. After a while of experimenting and becoming more comfortable with his own dominance he'd find himself craving it and he doesn't really know how to deal with that, so you just sink to your knees beside him when he's playing games and let him run his fingers through your hair and it sends a simultaneous rush of pride and heat straight to his cock.

He likes that you're not afraid to be vocal about what you want and need. He takes note of everything you like and everything that makes you moan a little louder and uses it against you until he's mastered to art of switching you into sub space with very little effort.

"You need me to take care of you, huh? Come on, I know you do. Let me make you feel good."

Seungmin:

Soft Brat Sub

Non Sexually: Hear me out, okay. I think Minnie would adore the playful side of a soft Brat. He loves that you give his attitude right back to him and toe the line of too far without ever crossing it. You're never disrespectful of the authority you chose to give him, but you're ready to call him out when he's wrong and he likes that.

He gets really giggly and happy when you tease him back, always flirting with him and reminding him of the effect he has on you. He almost expects it, and he'll be sad if you suddenly stop.

Sexually: Seungmin likes a little power struggle. He teases you harder when you resist, slowing his thrust until it's just a lazy roll of his hips against yours because he knows you'll break easily. The fact that he gets to 'break' you, but it has very little resistance, is actually nice for him because he doesn't want to feel like he's fighting to earn your respect constantly.

When you finally do give up your faux resistance, he makes sure to reward you. He'll almost always hold your hands while he pounds into you, kissing your nose and telling you how easy you make it for him. He's big on the affection when you fuck.

"That's it. Give in to it. I know it feels good. You can have more if you give up."

Jeongin:

Prey Subs

Non sexually: Our sweet innie is positively beaming when he sees flashes of worry in your eyes. He knows you're not scared of him. You're just eager for him, and it's fun to him. He loves to catch you off guard and startle you by grabbing your hips and pulling you close to him.

You love it too, of course. Innie is big on consent, and he wouldn't be wrapping his pretty hand around the base of your throat when he kisses your cheek unless he was positive you liked it.

He also likes to poke and prod at you just a little. The playful bullying is a big part of your dynamic and a way he shows his affection whilst reminding you of your place.

Sexually: The chase is everything. On special occasions you'll find yourself playing hide and seek through your apartment building, and it's led to you fucking in the gym more than once. He doesn't really understand why hunting you is so hot, but he's thirsty for it.

When he's not hunting you, he's manhandling you. It's not always rough, but he's always caging you in somehow. His body wrapped around yours, his hand pressed firmly in the middle of your back, your thighs pushed up to your chest. He doesn't really think about it much. He just knows he needs to take you, and he can't help but get a little aggressive.

"Baby, when I find you, I promise I'm gonna be fucking you on the nearest flat surface."

#stray kids smut #bang chan smut #changbin smut #hyunjin smut #lee know smut #chan smut #i.n smut #han smut #jisung smut #felix smut #seungmin smut #jeongin smut #felix x reader #seungmin x reader #i.n x reader #jeongin x reader #han x reader #jisung x reader #hyunjin x reader #changbin x reader #lee know x reader #minho x reader #chan x reader

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hm… Have you ever think about Aventurine, Sunday and Dan heng with fem reader that has chubby cheeks?

When you’re eating, they can’t stop looking at your cheeks that keep puff and being squishy. You remind them of small hamster, really cute.

Give your cheek a playful bite, squish your cheeks like a stressball for him, or nuzzle his cheek against your?

I love chubby cheeks… and my hsr husband and waifu;)

Aventurine would absolutely adore the fuck out of your chubby cheeks, especially when they’re being squished and tugged between his fingers.

It was his favourite pastime that he’d gladly trade everything else for if he ever were to choose to do one thing for the rest of his life.

He’d prod your cheek if you weren’t giving him enough attention for his liking and find himself fascinated at the way they recoiled.

If Aventurine were a cat, you’d be the laser of the laser pointer that he’s trying his hardest to catch because that’s how invested in your cheeks he was.

Now would Aventurine nibble your cheeks? Yes and he would act indifferent about it too as he shrugs his shoulders as a mischievous smile graced his lips. ‘I must’ve mistook your chubby cheeks as a sweet treat, oops.’ He’d say and you knew he wasn’t in any regard remorseful of his actions.

He’d do it again in a heartbeat but he really does love your cheeks and won’t let you or anyone say anything bad about them, ever.

Sunday

Find your chubby cheeks endearing and cute.

He gives your cheeks the most affection, whether it’s kissing them, caressing them with his fingertips or even giving them a playful nibble as he laughs when you squeal.

‘I cannot help it my sweet, your cute plush cheeks were left unguarded to my attack.’ He chuckles as he kisses your cheeks again, loving how they felt under his lips that he couldn’t help but take another nibble.

When he’s stressed, he would sit himself in front of you, hold your face and begins playing with your chubby cheeks with the most focused look on his face. It would’ve been cute if he wasn’t playing with your cheeks as though they were mouldable as clay.

You: hard day sweetie?

Sunday, pinching and prodding your cheeks: what gave that away my beloved.

You: just a guess.

Your cheeks would be aching for days afterwards but at least Sunday makes up for it by massaging them and smothering them in affection.

Dan Heng has found himself developing cuteness aggression because of your cute fucking cheeks! How dare you!

He tries to act nonchalant when staring at you when eating, his eyes focusing in on how your cheeks would puff up, much like a chipmunks would when stuffing their cheeks with food for the winter. However he must’ve not been subtle enough for the lenses of march’s camera with the amount of pictures taken that day.

He just wanted to squish your cheeks really, really badly and maybe even chomp on them a little, a thought brought about thanks to his dragon noodle side, but he restrained himself from doing so out of respect for you and your boundaries.

However don’t be surprised when he goes and nuzzles his cheek against your own in his sleep and purring a little also. He may even lightly bite your cheek in the process while you were unaware, so when you bring up the teeth marks on your cheek, Dan Heng felt his face flush with heat as he looks away from you and scratched his nose.

You knew it was him but found his expressions of getting caught too adorable to scold him for the fact that you now had to spend the day with people asking if you been bitten by a cat or something in your sleep.

‘Yeah…sure.’ You’d trail off as you side glance Dan Heng, who kept his back to you, knowing damn well you were staring at him as his movements came off as more stiff than normal.

#hsr imagines #hsr imagine #hsr x reader #honkai star rail #honkai star rail x reader #Honkai star rail imagine #honaki star rail imagines #aventurine x reader #aventurine imagine #aventurine imagines #aventurine x you #sunday x reader #sunday imagines #sunday imagine #dan heng x reader #dan heng x you #Dan heng imagine #Dan heng imagines

[missm0rgue]

Nah some of y'all need to be studied cause i ask "what's the worst song from Bullets ?" and you say CUBICLES ??? EXCUSE ME ARE WE LISTENING TO THE SAME SONG ????

#i saw someone say it's “underwhelming and boring” what !! #i respect every opinion besides this one #mcr #my chemical romance #my chemical fucking romance #my chem #i brought you my bullets you brought me your love #cubicles mcr #unpopular opinion: it's not worse than demolition lovers #gerard way #frank iero #ray toro #mikey way #emo #the song which lyrics i scribble on pieces of paper in class #Spotify

[tossawary]

I think one of the keys to non-canon and rarepair relationships for me in fanfiction is that you have to respect the relationships that are already there. Not like in a "you have to do the canon relationships and then break them up first" way, because you can definitely make it so that the canon relationship in question never happened OR was never romantic or sexual if you want. But in a basic characterization issue kind of way.

For example, when I wrote a Shang Qinghua / Yue Qingyuan fic, I was looking at the ways to make that work given the Qijiu and Moshang situations. And I ended up making it so that Qijiu either never had or never fully developed any romantic or sexual feelings in this AU, but they're still inseparable as friends / brothers / platonic soulmates of a kind. You CAN'T write a Yue Qingyuan who doesn't care about Shen Jiu. It's just not on the table in terms of characterization.

(I mean, you could, I suppose, but then it's a case of, "Who the fuck even is this guy anymore? You undid his whole backstory and now he's a completely different person." I do think you can write interesting AU stories focused on character development in which Yue Qingyuan learns to move on after post-canon or in which perhaps Shen Jiu's treatment of Luo Binghe becomes an actual breaking point for their relationship, but even if things somehow get REAL BAD between him and Shen Jiu, I don't really think Yue Qingyuan will ever be able to stop caring completely.)

Likewise, I made it so that Moshang never fell into the master-servant situationship, and ended up as cooperative enemies / distant allies of sorts. But Shang Qinghua still thinks Mobei-Jun is sexy. That's his ideal guy! Airplane Bro still being a little weird about his favorite character is not really negotiable to me, even if he's in love with someone else. He has eyes! He can still look at other men disrespectfully! He just doesn't act on his attraction.

Like, you can totally just sidestep any romantic / sexual feelings and make it so they never existed, in order to pursue your pairing of choice. But you cannot easily deny, in my opinion, the basic fact of a character caring on a basic level about someone important to them. I think it gives weird "you're only allowed to care about your romantic partner / no friends allowed" vibes to just completely cut off all other relationships. There's not a hard line between "love-triangle-fixing polyamory" and "completely isolated from even friendships because maintaining friendships with exes is cheating somehow monogamy" as options here.

#tossawary svsss #hey share the weight #tossawary fandom

[miguel-owhora]

just letting y'all know that stepdad!miguel is literally so obsessive and possessive, he almost forgets he's married to your dad and you're supposed to be his stepson. he definitely favorites and gets pissed if anyone even dares to try and joke that one of your friends is secretly your partner; he'd corner you and fucking demands to know if you're seeing one. he's so jealous that he doesn't believe you when you say you're not seeing anyone, and proceeds to milk you dry, forcing you to say that he's the only one you love, the only one you need. he'll mark you up and bite you all over, fuck he's so pissed and possessive, just the thought of someone else touching you has him getting angrier.

but when it passes by he acts as if nothing happened, going back to his loving and attentive nature, going back acting as the overbearing stepfather.

bonus: stepson!mreader probably has some other younger siblings who definitely notice miguel's strange behavior, how he treats you different to the others. he doesn't hate your siblings, he's kind to them and helps them out, cooks for them and treats them as if they were his own children—but you? oh they notice how he looks at you, how he stares at you like a predator, with a sick love in his eyes as opposed to the plain and almost disinterested look he gives his husband.

but how can they bring it up when miguel's been nothing but sweet to all of them? acting like a good husband, treating his stepchildren with respect—and treating you like his prized possession. and when miguel is bound to notice, well, you'll just have to be more sneakier from now on, right?

ugh you'd be so dependent on miguel, so needy for his affection and love, you're willing to risk it all. but miguel is quick to keep you in place, when late at night you're sucking on hia tits, greedy for the sweet milk that makes his tits swell and heavy, his hand curled around your thick cock, slowly fondling it with the experience of a freak. he'll murmur into your ear about how you need to at least finish college, get a good job, and once you do—you can both run. run away and leave your idiot father and too knowing siblings behind, run away to the other side of the country and live together, free from anyone. he'll be your loving husband, doting on your every needs, and all you have to be is be his good boy.

wouldn't that be so nice?

#mr. o'whora's works ! #miguel o'hara x male reader #miguel ohara x male reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x you #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel ohara #miguel o'hara #x male reader #x male y/n #x male smut #tw stepcest #mlm #yaoi #😭

[pin-k-ink]

masquerade // gojo satoru

tw ⇢ teacher-student relationship, petnames, sexual tension, teasing, possessive!gojo, jealous sex, rough sex, implied age gap, dirty talk, unprotected sex

wc ⇢ 4.9k

a/n: i headcanon that gojo would definitely fuck his genderbent version

"No way, there's absolutely no way I'm losing this bet!" you declared, eyes shining with competitive determination.

Gojo simply chuckled, running a hand through his silver hair as he leveled you with an infuriatingly calm look. "We'll see about that, pretty girl. I hope you're prepared to eat those words."

You stuck your tongue out at your mentor in a childish display, ignoring the spark of heat that flared in your belly at his teasing endearment. Squaring your shoulders, you focused back on the task at hand - besting Gojo Satoru in an impromptu cursed tool duel.

The terms had been simple: whoever disarmed or immobilized the other first would get to choose their partner's costume for the upcoming Halloween soiree being thrown at the Kamo Estate. As one of the oldest and most prestigious jujutsu families, their holiday celebrations were always a lavish affair that attracted sorcerers of status from across the region. Needless to say, you were determined to avoid any humiliating outfits by claiming victory.

You circled each other warily, fingers twitching in preparation to summon your respective tools. A bead of sweat trickled down your temple as you tried to predict Gojo's opening move. Despite his perpetually laid-back demeanor, he was a finely honed weapon - powerful, precise and lightning-quick to strike.

Seconds ticked by in tense stillness. Then, without warning, Gojo was a blur of motion, pale hair whipping around his face as he twisted and struck out with one long arm. You threw yourself sideways in a desperate dodge, boots skidding across the training room floor as you pivoted to face him again. But he was already capitalizing on your evasion with a flurry of sharp jabs and slicing arcs, each one guided by a hair's breadth from clipping your defenses.

Cursing, you backpedaled furiously, mind racing to formulate a counterstrategy as you parried and deflected his relentless assault. He was aiming to herd you into an inescapable corner, you realized - a position from which he could use his greater size and strength to pin you effortlessly.

Gritting your teeth, you waited for the precise moment his next overextended swing left the barest opening in his defenses. Then, with every ounce of your cursed power thrumming through your limbs, you twisted and launched yourself into a furious set of combos.

Gojo's eyes widened fractionally as you unleashed everything you had, pushing him back in a dizzying flail of fists, elbows, and knees. You could sense his surprise at the sheer force behind each blow, the speed and fluidity of your combinations leaving him unable to predict the source of your next attack.

For one blazing, triumphant second, you caught a glimpse of victory as you arced into a spinning heel kick aimed squarely at his temple. But then Gojo was there, materializing inside your defenses with that masterful grasp of space and time that made him nigh untouchable. One second you were on the offensive, the next you were crashing into the unforgiving floorboards with a breathless "oof," limbs twisted and cursed tools clattering uselessly away.

"Well now," Gojo purred, looming over your winded form with a satisfied grin. "Looks like I win again, baby girl." His hand was warm and calloused where it encircled your wrist, grip light but unbreakable.

Groaning, you flopped back against the mats in a dramatic display, skin still tingling from your exertions. "That's so not fair," you whined petulantly. "I totally had you on the ropes that time!"

Gojo barked out a laugh, nudging your side with the toe of one shoe. "In your dreams, maybe," he teased. "A good effort though. Maybe next time you'll actually pose a challenge."

Pushing up onto your elbows, you leveled your best glare at the infuriatingly smug man. "You are SO going to regret those words, sensei. Just wait until you see what ridiculous costume I put you in next year!"

His grin widened in a way that made your stomach flip with anticipation. "I'm counting on it, beautiful."

The following week was spent in a whirlwind of preparation as the Kamo Estate staff readied for the biggest event of their social calendar - the annual All Hallows' Eve Masquerade Gala. Gojo, curse him, remained completely unhelpful about his chosen costume, waving off your repeated inquiries with that maddening enigmatic smile of his.

"You'll just have to wait and see," was all he would say, the gleam in his eyes promising delicious torment. "It's going to be a surprise."

And surprise you he did, on the night of the Gala when he finally unveiled your "costume" with a dramatic flourish of cursed energy. Lying innocently on your bed was an all-too-familiar set of clothes - Gojo's signature uniform of a plain white undershirt and billowing black slacks and jacket.

You sputtered incoherently, gesturing between him and the outfit laid out before you. "You cannot be serious!"

But that bastard just grinned back at you, all sharp canines and twinkling mischief. "Oh, I'm dead serious. You wanted an embarrassing costume, pretty girl? Well here it is, in all its glory."

Frantically, you cycled through a dozen different protests and pleading arguments, each of which he deftly waved aside with infuriatingly logical counterpoints. By the time he was done dismantling your defenses, you had no choice but to grumble your capitulation and snatch up the clothes, stomping towards the bathroom to change with as much dignity as you could muster.

"You're going to regret this," you threw over your shoulder with as much venom as you could muster. "Just you wait!"

Once the door clicked shut behind you, however, your feisty attitude melted away into pure girlish giddiness. Sure, wearing your mentor's clothes in public could be considered a bit humiliating. But you'd be lying if you denied how the thought of being surrounded by Gojo's scent, of wearing the same outfit that clung to his broad frame didn't spark a fluttering warmth low in your belly.

Quickly stripping down, you took a moment to appraise the garments with an appreciative eye, fingers trailing over the soft cotton of the undershirt. Even just holding it up to your body, the excess fabric was dwarfing your slender frame adorably. Giddiness mounting, you slipped it on carefully, rolling the cuffs up your forearms.

The fitted white fabric pulled taut across your chest, the sloping vee of the collar frequently slipping off one shoulder to tease at the soft swell of cleavage it created. A possessive thrill shot down your spine as you adjusted it back into place. This shirt, the one that skimmed and hinted at the sculpted planes of Gojo's body, now lovingly outlined the feminine curves it had never been intended to cup so intimately.

Restless heat blossomed under your skin at the thought of him seeing you wearing it later tonight - tousled, practically spilling out in all the right places. Would his gaze linger as unsubtly as yours always did on him? Or would his effortless cool manage to rein in any excessive reaction?

Anticipation began curling tight in your core as you recalled the thousands of lingering, liquid-hot glances you'd exchanged with Gojo over your years of training. The way his stare could scorch across your bare skin, turning mundane movements into something charged and provocative as he drank in your form with ravenous intensity. What you wouldn't give to see that look of blatant male appreciation washing over his handsome features as you showed up in this sinfully snug getup.

Shaking yourself free of the dizzying fantasy, you took a steadying breath before eyeing the slacks with disappointment. As you suspected, they were entirely too loose around your hips and thighs to be flattering. With a frustrated huff, you shimmied out of them, leaving them in a puddle on the floor.

Your gaze landed on a pair of worn but buttery-soft leather boots tucked in the back of your closet. A wicked grin curved your lips as you tugged them on, lacing the tall shafts all the way up to mid-thigh. The supple leather embraced your legs like a second skin, accentuating the toned lines and feminine swell of your calves in a deliciously provocative way.

You barely recognized yourself in Gojo's oversized undershirt paired with those thigh-high boots. Instead of the properly buttoned-up appearance his uniform conveyed on him, you oozed a wanton, edible sort of allure - all tousled hair, stretched cotton, and miles of creamy leg on display. Your mouth went dry imagining how Gojo might react to such a tantalizing twist on his borrowed look.

'Two can play at this game, sensei,' you thought wickedly, eyeing the smolderingly seductive lines and hints of bare skin your borrowed outfit provided.

After securing the jacket, you realized simply styling your own hair wouldn't quite achieve the full Gojo effect you were going for. A sly smile curved your lips as you procured a long, straight white wig from the depths of your costume trunk.

Carefully situating the silky strands, you fluffed and arranged them until they tumbled nearly to your waist in a perfect mimicry of Gojo's signature silver mane. Coupled with the oversized uniform draped over your frame, the full look was startlingly effective.

The only thing missing now was the pièce de résistance. A wicked grin curved your lips as you rooted around in his cupboard to procure a familiar black-framed pair of glasses. Pulling them on, you struck an exaggerated pose, imitating that cocky smirk and calculating squint he so loved to level at you during training.

"Hollow technique: Purple," you growled in a lower register, jabbing an imperious finger into the mirror. "Tch, not even worth the effort."

Giggles bubbled up uncontrollably at your shoddy impersonation. But one glance back at your reflection snuffed the laughter from your throat instantly. Never could you have predicted just how...devastating the whole ensemble would look together.

Raking a heated gaze down your figure, you took in the panels of taut, stretched fabric clinging deliciously to every curve. The alcohol collar and unbuttoned plackets teased at tantalizing swells of cleavage while the cuffed hems allowed teasing flashes of toned legs to peek through. Paired with the untamed silver and signature spectacles, the entire look was pure, potent temptation - a wicked combination of dishevelment and restraint, of masculine and feminine.

You spun and posed, watching in the mirror as the loosened shirttails flared out around your hips, providing glimpses of the black lacy panties painted onto your backside. A rosy flush crept up your throat at the blatant allure, suddenly unsure if you possessed the sheer audacity to debut this ensemble publicly.

A sharp rap at the bathroom door startled you from your reverie. "You about ready in there?" Gojo's husky voice filtered through the wood, sending a shiver of pure sin down your spine. "Or do I need to come in and help get you properly dressed, pretty girl?"

You swallowed hard, breath catching at the dark promise laced through his tone. Was it your imagination, or did he somehow already know the delectable effect his clothes would have draped over your frame? The thought had your blood pounding anew in a heady rush of nervous excitement.

"I'll be right out," you called back, somewhat proud of yourself for keeping your voice steady despite the tremor in your limbs. One last heated glance at the mirror and your reflection was all but searing itself into the backs of your eyelids. If Gojo thought he could torment you further by forcing this depraved twist of a costume upon you, then he had sorely underestimated your own deviant brand of mischief.

Straightening your spine, you threw open the bathroom door and sauntered out wearing every ounce of sordid confidence you could muster. Gojo stood leaned against the wall, arms crossed negligently over that sculpted chest you knew so well from countless clandestine ogling sessions. But the second his visible eye landed on you, his entire body seized up in an unmistakable full-body jolt.

With no small degree of heady satisfaction, you watched distinct shock and something infinitely darker flare across those striking features you admired so profoundly. His stare raked over your figure in a molten sweep, nostrils flaring as he scented the air with unrestrained hunger. And lower, beneath the loose vee of his unbuttoned slacks, you caught the unmistakable twitching of rapidly interested anatomy.

Well well, it seemed turnabout was fair play in the battle of temptation. You offered a simpering smirk, propping one hand on a cocked hip in a move you'd seen him execute a hundred times - legs shifting just enough to highlight the pleasant distraction at his groin.

"Like what you see...sensei?" The endearment dripped from your tongue like poisoned honey as you tracked his body's visceral reaction. "I modeled it pretty closely after the real thing, don't you think?"

A tremor rocked through his deceptively relaxed stance as the full implications sank in, gaze darkening perceptibly when you toyed with the fabric riding up your thighs. Slowly, he drank you in from tousled crown all the way down to where his shirttails brushed teasingly over the bottom of your ass before slashing back up in another unhurried glide of naked appreciation.

The heavy weight of his undisguised desire washed over you in dizzying waves, stoking the tendrils of challenge and want already suffusing your bloodstream. You felt powerful in a way you rarely allowed yourself to embrace - beautiful and profoundly sensual under the searing brand of Gojo's attention.

"You look..." he started roughly, pupils blown wide before Adam's apple bobbed in a harsh swallow. "Sinful," he finally rasped, the single syllable loaded with enough molten promise to scorch. "Absolutely fucking sinful, pretty girl."

A punched-out gasp slipped free at the blatant admission, need guttering low and hot in your pussy. Bold, you took one pointed step closer, until the fabric of his borrowed jacket brushed softly against his abdomen. The tips of your breasts skated lightly across the clean lines of his chest as you leaned in, mouth brushing his ear in a ghosting caress.

"So do something about it, sensei," you growled, nails raking lightly down the front of his shirt. "Show me how sinful you want to be."

For one tremulous heartbeat, you thought he might actually give in to the simmering tension and haul you bodily against him right then and there. His jaw flexed tellingly, fingers flexing at his sides as muscles coiled for action. But then he blew out a long, shuddering breath, spine straightening as the burning intensity blinked out behind his lids.

"Don't tempt me, baby," he rasped in a low purr, tone thick with sinful promise that had your knees quaking. One large, calloused palm cupped your jaw reverently, angling your face up towards his in a searing look of abject want. "I'm only a man, and you look good enough to eat in that little getup."

He allowed his thumb to drag slowly over the plush swell of your lower lip, gaze riveted while you instinctively parted on a shuddery inhale. Your senses swam with the woodsy undercurrent of his cologne, the scorching heat of skin and muscle thrumming just beyond reach.

"But sadly, we have somewhere to be tonight," Gojo continued, voice pitched quieter yet somehow infinitely more powerful in your close proximity. His eyes raked over you again, taking in the way his shirt barely contained your curves and how you'd opted to forgo the slacks.

Instead, a pair of wicked black leather boots laced all the way up to the middle of your thighs framed your bare legs deliciously. He groaned low in his throat at the sight of so much skin on display, gaze heating further when he noticed the full, straight silver wig cascading nearly to your waist in a perfect mimicry of his hairstyle.

"And if I started getting a taste of you now...well, I wouldn't be able to stop. Not until I'd thoroughly ruined you for the rest of the night's events."

Your mouth went bone dry as graphic imaginings of his sinful promise ricocheted across your consciousness. Unconsciously, your tongue flicked out to wet your lips, silently imploring his thumb to dip between them, to caress heated skin and let you suckle on the rough pad.

But Gojo simply grinned wolfishly, knowing far too well the images he'd conjured behind your hooded gaze. "Easy there, pretty girl," he crooned, all indulgent heat and dark delight. "Soon enough you can have all the punishment you can handle. First though, we have to attend a party."

In an effort to regain some scrap of composure, you cleared your throat, ignoring the shaky rasp. "I'm not sure I can pull off that hair," you countered weakly, reaching up to attempt taming the silver strands. To your utter dismay, Gojo's hand shot out and clamped around your wrist, effortlessly thwarting your movements.

God, he couldn't get over the delicious recreation of his look - the fitted shirt straining at the buttons, those long, lean legs accentuated by the knee-high leather...it was as if he'd been stripped bare and repackaged as the most tantalizing, irresistible version of himself imaginable.

"Don't," he commanded, voice dropping into that smooth, spine-tingling bass that infallibly left you aching and molten. His free hand wound through the tousled locks, mussing them further into resembling his artfully mussed style. "Leave it just like this. Every time I glance over, I want to be reminded of how utterly delicious you look in my clothes. So very pretty for me."

A delirious sound punched out of your core at his gravelly praise, knees going watery at the second heady rush of promised debauchery glimmering in those devilish blue eyes. God, how you burned to give in and let him utterly wreck you right then and there. But the iron bands of his behemoth self-control held firm.

"Now then," he practically growled, punctuating the words with a scorching press of bodies, "I believe we have a party to attend? Hmm, pretty girl?"

You managed a shaky nod, delirious with wanting. How much longer could you keep dancing around this undeniable inferno?

At the Gala, every eye was instantly trained on you from the moment you arrived on Gojo's arm. You could feel the weight of hungry stares caressing your body as you moved through the crowd, taking in your blatant mimicry of Gojo's look from the glossy wig to the clinging shirt. More than one leering partygoer let their gaze linger just a bit too long on the exposed expanses of thigh and cleavage.

For his part, Gojo seemed to bask in the absolute chaos you were causing. One broad palm never left the small of your back, possessively guiding you through the throngs of people while sending a clear message to any who dared approach - this pretty little thing belonged to him.

And oh, how you reveled in his proprietary attitude. Something low and wicked in your core thrilled to be so openly claimed, desired with such naked ferocity in front of all these esteemed strangers. Gojo's intense stare scarcely left you for more than a few seconds, tracking your every move with a heated focus that bordered on predatory.

More than once, you slanted a sultry glance in his direction, lower lip caught between your teeth as you preened shamelessly under his ravenous regard. His visible eye would instantly darken to cobalt, jaw ticking with barely restrained hunger before he forcibly dragged his attention back to whatever politician or clan head was fawning for his attention.

"Down, boy," you purred at one point, leaning in so your pouty murmur brushed hot against the shell of his ear. "Don't make me put you in timeout, sensei."

The low, guttural rumble that punched out of Gojo's chest sent delicious frissons of heat licking through your veins. You giggled privately at how his fingers flexed against your hip, thumb rubbing distracting little circles into the jut of bone.

"Oh I'll show you time out," he growled back through a smile placid enough to fool the nobles milling nearby. "Just wait until I get you alone later, pretty girl. I'm going to teach you all about punishment."

A full-body shudder rocked through you at the dark promise, nipples pebbling painfully beneath the thin cotton. Every nerve was alight with giddy anticipation at what delicious retribution Gojo might have in store for your cheekiness.

Your little game of teasing cat and mouse continued in that vein for most of the evening. He would pin you with those unholy bedroom eyes, gaze dropping conspicuously to the shadows hinting at your body's secrets beneath the too-small uniform. In retaliation, you'd arch into him with a sugary innocent expression, reveling in the way his pupils would blow wide and his breath would stutter over a barely perceptible growl. The heated charge between you grew thicker and headier with every tortuous brush of skin and wicked murmur exchanged.

Eventually, it all became too much for even Gojo's formidable restraint. You were draped over one of the antique sofas, legs crossed in a way that allowed the rumpled white shirt to slip rakishly up your thighs, when he suddenly materialized before you like a force of nature.

His large hand encircled your bare ankle in a scalding grip as piercing blue eyes bored into yours from behind the familiar black frames. You shivered at the mute intensity of his stare, that intoxicating aura of power and sin rolling off him in waves as he slowly, inexorably dragged you upright and flush against his chest.

"That's it, pretty girl," he rasped into the heated hollow beneath your ear. The words were velvet soft yet laced with enough dominant possession to have you melting against his solid frame. "I've been more than patient with you all night. But enough is enough - you've tested every last ounce of control I have."

You shuddered violently as his mouth grazed your jaw in a hot, openmouthed glide. "Sensei..." you whimpered, not even sure what you were pleading for anymore.

"Shh, I've got you," he murmured, a scorching palm settling at the small of your back to guide you through the gawking crowd. "Time to go, baby. You and I have a... private lesson to attend."

Somewhere beyond the thudding rush of arousal, you recognized the distinct clearing of throats and murmured whispers from the nearby guests as you allowed Gojo to propel you towards the exits. But it was impossible to care when he was caging you against him with such blatant feral intent, muscles locked into coiling restraint like a panther poised to pounce on its prey.

The cool night air hit your overheated skin like a slap once you stumbled outside. Gojo didn't so much as pause before scooping you up into his arms in a bridal carry, cursed energy already whipping around you in preparation to activate his Infinite Void technique.

"Hold on tight, pretty girl," he warned, the normally gentle rumble of his voice pitched low enough to send molten heat shearing through your core. "This may get...intense."

And with that, the entire world collapsed in on itself until there was nothing but the whisper of energy across your nerve-endings and the solid warmth of Gojo's body wrapped around you as the in-between rushed past in a blur.

You materialized seconds later in your dormitory suite, Gojo already stalking towards the bedroom with you cradled to his chest. He kicked the door shut with a deafening bang before throwing you onto the mattress with enough force to bounce you enticingly.

Chest heaving, you pushed up onto your elbows to drink in the sight of him looming over the foot of the bed - hair tousled into glorious disarray, shirt disheveled and straining against his broad frame, eyes burning with naked sin and untempered hunger. He looked like some kind of depraved avenging angel, utterly devastating in his authority and desire.

"Do you have any idea," he growled, prowling closer like a predator scenting its prey, "what you've put me through tonight with that little act of yours?"

A shocked squeak fled your lips as one large hand fisted in the loose hair of your wig, yanking just harshly enough to expose the vulnerable line of your throat. Gojo took greedy advantage of your arched position, dipping down to lave hot, filthy kisses along the thundering pulse point as you writhed beneath him.

"All evening, I've been surrounded by the scent of you in my clothes," he rasped against your slick skin, free hand already dragging the shirt up to divest you of the flimsy material. You arched eagerly into his frantic touches, nails scoring paths down the quivering muscles of his back as his lips continued branding every inch of bare flesh.

"That sweet, pretty little body of yours wrapped up to look just like me. All decked out in black and white and silver...fuck, you're lucky I didn't bend you over in front of everyone at the party and take what's mine!"

A desperate keen reverberated from your very bones at the graphic suggestion, hips straining upwards instinctively to grind against the rigid cock already pressing into your soaked pussy. Gojo rewarded the involuntary motion with a punishingly deep grind of his own, dragging the luxurious slide of cotton over your swollen clit and leaving you boneless and gasping.

"Is that what you wanted, baby?" he rumbled darkly, nipping your ear with blunt teeth. "To make me lose control and defile you in front of all those poor, unsuspecting fools?"

You could only whine in response, beyond coherent speech at this point. Rough hands shoved the hem of his shirt up to bare your chest, bunching the fabric over your ribcage as Gojo settled onto his knees between your splayed thighs. Cool air ghosted over your feverish skin for only a moment before his mouth enveloped one taut nipple in an all-encompassing scald.

It was like the last floodgate had opened, finally allowing the pent-up tension thrumming between you to surge free in an unstoppable flood. You dissolved into a litany of shameless sounds - moans and whimpers and breathy curses that only seemed to goad Gojo on further. Soon the bedroom filled with the filthy sounds of devoured kisses, skin slapping on skin, and flesh stretching to desperate accommodation around the punishing thrusts into your convulsing body.

Over and over again, he hilted himself inside your drenched cunt with enough force to slide your sweat-slicked bodies up the rumpled sheets. Wave after wave of blinding, throbbing pleasure eroded the last remnants of sense until your entire universe narrowed to the mouthwatering play of chiseled muscle and tendon as he hovered over you. You couldn't get enough of his harsh grunts, the deeper-than-sin rasp of his voice crooning debauched praises and sinful promises against your fevered skin.

"That's it, just like that, baby girl," he ground out as your nails scored down his back hard enough to sting. "Open up nice and pretty for your sensei. Going to absolutely fucking ruin you for anyone else after I'm done."

The very thought sent electric sparks arcing straight to your clenching pussy, throat already rubbed raw from howling your rapture into the quiet night. There was nothing recognizable left in your voice as you chanted his name like a benediction, uncaring of how the whole dormitory might hear your shameless cries while Gojo robbed you of any last shred of composure.

His hips snapped in a final few deep, piston-like drags before stilling with a full-bodied shudder. The feeling of him painting your fluttering pussy in thick, virile streaks of cum finally triggered your own cresting climax. You shattered around him with a ragged wail, arching wildly as exquisite pulses of lightning ricocheted out in tingling waves to your fingertips and curling toes.

Boneless and limp as a ragdoll, you lay there soaked in the glorious aftermath. Gojo blanketed you with his weight, his breath rasping hotly over your sweat-dampened skin, lips tracing sluggish patterns in their comedown. Neither of you moved for long stretches, simply existing in the tranquil silence of that sacred, sated space.

Finally, Gojo pulled back just enough to free his arms and gather you carefully into his embrace. You hummed out a contented sound, burrowing shamelessly into the solid comfort of his chest while clever fingers worked the constricting knots out of your wig until the heavy silver strands cascaded freely onto the pillows.

"You," he started, pausing to clear his throat and collect his scattered thoughts, "are going to be the absolute death of me one day, pretty girl."

The words were fond instead of chastising as he pressed lingering closed-mouth kisses into your hairline. You smiled against the corded expanse of his throat.

"Promise?" you murmured cheekily, arching up to ghost your lips across the strong column of muscle. A low groan rumbled against your mouth at the blatant provocation.

"Mark my words," Gojo growled, rolling you both until he loomed over your pliant, wrecked body once more. This time though, his touch was barely-there, gentle, almost worshipful as he traced the scattered constellation of marks blooming across your damp skin. "By the time I'm through with you, you won't be able to so much as look at another set of clothes without thinking of me, of how thoroughly I'm going to take you apart and put you back together again."

The heated storm in your blood kick-started anew at his dangerous tone, goosebumps prickling in the wake of his maddening caress. There was no doubt in your racing heart that this deliciously sinful man would make good on every last lurid implication behind those words. And you couldn't wait.

#jjk smut #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru x reader smut #gojo x reader smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo smut #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #satoru smut

[leqonsluv3r]

insatiable

— leon and you begin a relationship and find yourselves infatuated with each other, a blurb

contains nsfw content, 18+, MDNI

masterlist taglist

ever since you and leon admitted your feelings for each other, things had been different for you.

certain things had changed.

you found yourself more insatiable then normal, so did he. it definitely wasn’t just you, you both found yourselves barely leaving the bedroom in the honeymoon stage of your relationship.

it was like you both were hungry for each other, hungry for each others bodies like oxygen. it wasn’t normal but the affect you had on each other, it wasn’t just normal either.

like now, in the dregs of post-sex bliss, you both were laying in his bed in his apartment. your t-shirt was his and found a home on your body, laying with him in his rumpled blue sheets of his king sized bed.

limbs entangled and smalls snores leaving you both. you knew that in the waking of the night, you’d both find each other again. with your hands, your mouths and your bodies.

neither of you could help it, you were both addicted to each other now like junkies needing a fix. you wanted to blame him but you couldn’t, he was handsome. you were only human after all.

so when you both wake up in the morning, act like a normal couple for a bit, then it’s back to him ravaging you in bed. you didn’t even care either how he degraded you in the midst of all of it. you knew his respect for you ran deep, that much was aware.

but in these moments, like now, when your sat on his cock and he’s fucking into you…all of the respect is gone and only love and lust remain.

“pretty little pussy is squeezing me baby, christ.” he groans out, his hands are on your hips and he’s fucking himself up into you while you just sit on his lap and take it. “uhh…” is all you can respond, your fucked out this point and he’s practically splitting you in two.

your thoughts are only of him and his cock pounding up into you as your thighs hug his lap. you bury your head into his shoulder and whine. “poor little baby, can’t handle all this cock.” he manages to get out in between groans.

the only sounds in the room are your conjoined heavy breathing and his thighs slapping up against your ass, his hands burning brands into your hips to keep you in place while he uses you like a cock sleeve.

you moan in response and flutter around his dick on instinct, squeezing him a little. “oh? you like that, you like taking my big cock, baby?” he teases in your ear, one of his large hands coming down to squeeze your ass. his hips buck a little faster into you and start hitting that spot over and over.

“yes, like…your cock…” your words make no sense as you practically drool on his shoulder, holding onto him for dear life as he keeps fucking up into you. “i know you do, your a little slut for my cock…” he groans as he fists one hand on your ass and the other on your hip.

you whine loudly and your pussy flutters around him again at the degradation, letting it go straight to your core. he knows that your falling apart because of him, he knows he’s the only one that’s ever made you feel this hungry.

he’s trying to not let it go to his head, or his cock.

but he can’t help it, he’s bouncing you like your a fuck toy on his lap and your eating every bit of it up. “oh shit, fuck…baby…” he’s groaning and he smacks your ass cheek, squeezing the reddened flesh beneath his hands.

you squeeze around him again, your eyes practically pooling with tears as he abuses your sore pussy with his cock. you don’t even care anymore, too high on bliss and the feeling of euphoria that only him pleasuring you can do.

“made to take cock, made to be a good little cock slut.” he mumbles into your neck with another smack to your ass as he keeps thrusting his hips up into you over and over. you just whine and nod against his shoulder in response, your pussy tightening around him again.

he slips his hand around to the tight little ring of muscle, causing you to whine as he circles your asshole with his thumb. “maybe i’ll plug both your holes, keep you full and needy for me.” he hums through a groan. your body practically vibrating at the insinuation.

“please…” you whimper into his shoulder pathetically, his hand on your ass lightly smacking it again and his thrusts going deep and slower now. edging and teasing you in the way that makes your skin feel like it’s on fire.

“oh? really? you’d like that?” you can practically hear the smirk through his strained words in your ear, his deep and rough timbre vibrating through you like your nearing orgasm.

you moan and nod into his shoulder in response. he clicks his tongue, “whatever baby wants, baby gets.” he brings his thumb up to his mouth, licking on it and sucking it and spitting on it a little before he brings it back down to your asshole.

you almost scream in pleasure when he inserts his thumb into your ass, double penetrating you on his cock and thumb. you feel like you could die happily right there, filled with all of him.

you don’t even care how fucked out you must look, not when it feels so good to have him filling you up in both holes. “such a needy little slut, always needing my cock and fingers.” he mumbles into your ear with a small nip to your earlobe.

the hand on your hip is keeping you steady again as he starts thrusting into you faster, your arousal combined with his is lewd, echoing throughout his bedroom.

“gonna cum…” you manage to moan in between his rapid thrusts up into you, making you whimper and almost scream. you felt drool leak out of your lips and your eyes roll back a little. he thrusts his thumb deeper into your ass at the same time as he thrusts deep inside of you.

he hits that spot that almost makes you see stars, “good girl, such a good little slut…cum for me baby.” he rambles as he feels himself get closer. that band inside the both of you about to snap at each other’s movements.

all it takes is a couple more thrusts of his hips up into you for you to fall apart, clenching on his thumb and his cock as you moan loudly. he groans as he feels you come and he continues fucking you through it, driving your shaking body into overstimulation.

“too much…” you whine as you grip at his shoulders, your eyes squeezing shut. he keeps moving his hips up into you, chasing his own orgasm. “it’s okay, baby, i’m close. you can take it.” he presses a sloppy kiss to your ear.

you tremble and shake as he keeps thrusting up into you, you feel his muscle tense and then warmth floods your lower belly. your head resting on his shoulder and his thumb leaving your ass. he presses kisses on the side of your temple and down to your ear.

“good girl…good girl.” he murmurs into your hair, rubbing a hand along your bare spine in smoothing caresses. his cock still twitching a little inside of you. your body slumping into his on exhaustion from your previous love making.

you sigh in content, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck while he rubs on your spine. giving you love and aftercare even though you were still full of him, full of his come now.

you felt so full of his love and you hoped the honeymoon phase never ended, not once. you wished, selfishly that you could stay like this forever and be with him like this every moment of every day. even though you both knew better then that.

but the insatiable act of you two being together was one of the many reasons why you loved him so much. it was all of it, him and the way he treated you. he loved you for who you are, and you did him.

so even if you both fucked like rabbits, it was only proof that you two trusted each other enough to go to those places with each other.

because you both were truly insatiable for each other.

and that was enough for the both of you because you would never get enough of each other.

an: thank you guys for 800 followers, again, holy shit balls. i love you guys so much and i say that every time but i truly mean it. you guys are amazing, so thankful for all of you. i hope you guys liked this, it’s pure filth and the idea has been contaminating my brain since i thought of it. pls reblog, like and interact. love you guys, kisses. xx.

taglist: @elihii @heartsforvin @argreion @sqiim @adollrable @leonkennedygvrl @cherubify (interact with my taglist at the beginning if you wanna be added <33)

#leon kennedy #leon x reader #leon kennedy smut #re2 leon #re4 remake #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy au #re2 remake #leon kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy fanfic #leon smut #leon kennedy re2 #di leon x reader #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy blurb #leon s kennedy smut #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy re4 #leon kennedy re6 #leon resident evil #re4 leon #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x fem reader #re2 leon kennedy x reader #re4 leon x reader #re6 leon x reader

[kc5rings]

I love all of these little dioramas a lot but when looking at this one I was really struck by one detail in particular

Look at the target in front of Cardigan, you can clearly tell who’s hitting it based on the type of damage done. Two round holes, one in the shoulder and one in the head, likely from Adnachiel practicing both a debilitating and lethal shot respectively. A big jagged blast in the side from Steward probably a little off from aiming center mass.

But then there’s one more hole, a triangular one.

Right over the heart.

Who there would make that kind of puncture? And in such a vicious locati-

Oh.

Cardigan the fucking heart taker apparently! Look at how her arm is cocked back for a punch, this little puppy will end you

#arknights #they made her a defender because her killing instinct was too strong #I really love these little scenes so much though

[theold-ultraviolence]

Blanket hoarder

summary: Reader's annoyed musings over Eddie hoarding the blankets when they sleep together. cw: established relationship, gender neutral reader, shenanigans of living together, pure fluff with a light side of angst because reader gets annoyed at Eddie. words: 1.6K (this was supposed to be a blurb lol)

A sneaky slip of fabric. 

Your teeth start to clatter. Consciousness returns as your body starts shivering, groaning against the pillow. 

Not again! 

“Stop hoarding the goddamn blankets!” you growl as you yank back the blanket back to your body, not even caring if you wake Eddie.

You roll back to your side angrily – cursing as the alarm starts ringing just when you have gotten warm again, not even a second after – Jesus christ! 

Now you have to drag your legs out one by one into the freezing bathroom, loathing to get ready for the long workday ahead when there’s that lingering chill in your body from the lack of proper cover in your sleep. 

You bitterly glare at Eddie’s body from the reflection in the mirror as you brush your teeth, looking like a snuggle bug all warm and cozy – lowkey envious he gets to sleep in just for a little longer before having to leave for work. 

You finish cleaning yourself up and come to watch him from the door, his snug form dimly lit by the faint glow emanating from the bathroom. You can’t help but chuckle internally. 

Fucking Eddie. 

You used to sleep so peacefully with him in the beginning. He would envelop you in his arms, with your nose pressed up into his neck, arms clinging to him as if you would float away like a balloon in the night sky of your dreams if you didn’t. Or he’d spoon you from behind, and the soft puffs of his breath against your skin would calm you, like the constant flame of a campfire right at home inside your heart. 

Even when he sprawled on the bed like a starfish, you’d hook your leg around his hip, with your nose all nestled in the fuzzy heat from his armpit, regardless of the smell. It smelt like the finest cashmere to you anyway. That was just love. 

When you finally moved in together, that remained for the first weeks until, little by little, change came as it naturally does when certain things become a habit.

That’s when you discovered that Eddie was the absolute worst blanket hoarder.

Instead of sleeping entangled through the night, your bodies would drift on their own accord to your respective corners of the bed, curling back to back –  with just your butts touching, Eddie’s light snores echoing away from you, and your drool pooling on your pillow for once instead of his t-shirt. 

But then, like clockwork, you’d wake around three AM, wondering why the hell you were shivering when you slept with four blankets atop you. You’d turn, and through the heavy curtains of your sleepy eyes, you’d see your boyfriend all bundled up like a burrito, with his curls barely distinguishable underneath all that fluff. 

You’d snuggle up to his back, moaning as you slid inside the blankets and spooned him, quickly falling asleep again to the soothing rise and fall of his breathing as you pressed your cheek between his shoulder blades. 

It didn’t bother you that much, how could it? When Eddie’s mind – that raced with worries and wonder alike – could finally be at peace when he curled up like that? In the bed that belonged to the both of you no less. Not his own over at Wayne’s, or the one at your parent’s house, but yours. Where your scent and his own had already fused into one heavenly aroma, where the cheap mattress had already begun to dip with the shape of your bodies. You couldn’t even be mad when he stole the blankets during the winter, giving you endless runny noses the following days. 

Not even when you’d find him sleeping on his stomach, waking at the exact second of him kicking back the blankets to the edge of the bed with his foot. You’d grumble but pull back the covers every single time, tucking him in again – sometimes giving him a little just because you could. Just to feel the silky warmness of his cheek, alive and safe with you. 

But…there were nights when you just couldn’t have it. After long, stressful days at work that had your head feeling like the pressurized cabin of an airplane, feeling the knots in your neck as hard as concrete, you would just long to sleep through the night before enduring it all over again the next day.

One night, the blanket hoarding happened three times. 

Three. Fucking. Times. Waking up freezing because Eddie kept pulling the blanket to his side. 

“Fuck’s sake, Eddie!” You had groaned, making sure he heard as you yanked them back to you.

Your heart balled up into a fist when you felt him sit up in bed and put a tentative hand on your back but you flinched and scoffed with annoyance.

He slept facing away from you then, not even touching his butt to yours. You had felt like the worst person alive, but you’d just been at your limit and snapped. So guilty for being harsh that you hadn’t even been able to fall back asleep in the end. The morning after had been a little awkward, with the two of you walking on eggshells as Eddie cooked breakfast – his own little way of apologizing. 

He needn’t at all. Hoarding blankets in his sleep wasn’t something he could control, you knew that. He was only human. Flawed and filled with quirks that made him who he was. You loved him for it, loved him with everything you had – despite him annoying you sometimes, despite your silly pet peeves.

But that was the thing. Love was about learning to live with Eddie and the package he came with – appreciating his humanity, in all its flawed perfection. Eddie never complains when you hoard the hot water in the shower or get a little grumpy when things don’t go your way on the first try. Not when you scrunch your nose if he cooks a meal using a certain ingredient you don’t like that he's pushing you to try, not when you occupy more space in your shared closet.

You’re human too. 

That’s why you can’t help but break sometimes without meaning to. And last night had been one of those times. The blanket hoarding just got to you again because you hadn’t slept a wink the previous night, longing to make up for it as soon as you got home, but no. 

Now, as you watch him from the bathroom door, you feel your heart slumping within your chest once again, just as he stits up. The dim light casts long shadows beneath his eyelashes that make his gaze appear sadder. 

“Hey…” he mumbles, voice still deep and groggy with sleep as he weakly pats the mattress. “Babe, I’m so sorry…I don’t even realize –” 

“ – No, no, I know, baby, I know.” You rub your hands on your face trying not to cry with frustration – not with Eddie but with yourself.  “I was just exhausted. I’m sorry.” 

“I know. C’mere…”  He pats the mattress again, with a tender smile as he pulls back the blankets and lays on his back with his arms outstretched to you. He pulls you in like a magnet, without any protest as you fall into his arms and he envelops you whole. 

Sighing contently, the stress leaves your body so fast that you wonder what kind of magic lies in Eddie's arms. His presence surrounding you makes you forget why you were even stressed in the first place. His chest is so cozy. His heartbeat underneath your ear is a gentle reminder of that imperfect humanity, as the beats switch from rapid to a steady lull once he’s certain you’re not mad anymore. You kiss that heartbeat, lingering for a moment to inhale that sleepy musk of his that’s become the scent of home. 

“I’m gonna be late for work…” you mumble against him after what seems like hours, feeling your heavy-lidded eyes aching to close.

“Call in sick…” his voice is soft and muffled against the crown of your head while he caresses the nape of your neck. 

“Can’t. Already did last week, remember?” 

He grumbles, but you can feel that teasing smile of his curling against your forehead, just as he pulls up the covers further up your shoulders, luring you away from the call of another stressful workday, and into the indulgent leisure that lies with him.

“Then call and tell them you had a flat tire or some shit. Come on…sleep in just a little bit. Or, tell ‘em I’m sick and you have to take care of me – I’ll take the blame for ya. Only fair.”  

You raise your head to look at him, caressing his cheek with the back of your knuckles as you shake your head fondly.

Fucking Eddie. 

How can you resist him, when his dimples look even cuter when there’s mischief hiding behind them? Just one look at those big doe eyes and you don’t need any more persuading. He'd get you to pull down the moon by a mere flutter of his perfect eyelashes.

Your head falls back into his chest and he tightens his embrace around you. “Come on, sweetheart… I’ll hold you the entire time.” 

You don’t even register what he says for your drowsy eyes are already falling shut, blanketed by the soft caress of Eddie's plush lips against your eyelids. Faintly you can hear Eddie’s light snores, and feel a little puddle of drool forming on his t-shirt where you rest your face as your breathing deepens.  

Maybe this is why he hoards all the blankets, you muse unconsciously as you drift to sleep. He steals all their warmth for moments like this when it's his arms that wrap you up and keep you safe.

tag list: @arcielee

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x you #joseph quinn #stranger things #fanfiction #my writing

[starfxkr]

bringing trailer park jayj over dinner you made early on and he’s got some lady his age in his trailer :( he hears you huff and throw the tupperware down by his door and wrap yourself up in your arms while you stomp away from his trailer

₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧ ﾟ.₊˚ʚ 🌱 ₊˚✧

sometimes you wonder why you even tried. sure your relationship with jj was new and kind of tenuous but when he was good it was great, and you figured things were finally on the right path.

it's safe to say you weren't expecting to see him having a seemingly intimate moment with the woman who lives two trailers down from you. she was everything you weren't-- put together, respected, his age. but he told you it didn't matter. yet here you were looking stupid with your little tupperware bowl packed with pot roast, rice and veggies. there was no use in staying, not after seeing this, so you drop it at his door, the loud clattering no doubt getting his attention as you storm away, tugging your meager hoodie closer when you heard the screen door slam shut.

"aw fuck, sweet pea get back here!" you can hear his boots thumping on the gravel behind you but you don't turn around.

"jj just leave her alone, she'll get over it, you shouldn't be messing with her anyways she's just a little girl." the woman's voice echos and it makes you walk faster, doing your best to get away when his strong arms wrap around you.

he's too strong for you to break away, try as you might, and you give up, burrowing your face in his chest as you sob.

"why don't you just leave me alone? do you like hurting me or something?" you barely get the words out, soaking his shirt as sobs wrack your body.

jj doesn't respond at first, just rocking you in his arms and shushing you like a fussy baby.

"are you serious? jesse we were in the middle of something"

"hey fuck off! i'm handlin something right now."

the woman leaves with a huff and jj slowly eases you back to his trailer. the small porch is splattered with food, and he huffs out a laugh, "can't believe you went through all that to fix me somethin to eat."

you sniffle, your lashes are clumped with tears and lips swollen from biting them, "well...you said you were hungry."

this time he lets out a real laugh, bending down to kiss your plump lips and stroking the tears from your cheeks, "yeah? i did, didn't i. got any left?"

#✨.txt #jj maybank prompt #trailer park!jj

[somewhereincairparavel]

Literally where do people get the idea that Jason was full of himself and that he thought he was better than Percy? This is legit brought up in so many 'why-i-hate-jason-grace" arguments it just screams lack of reading comprehension and obvious Percy bias saltiness. Like just say you are bitter that Jason is written as percy's equal and that you want Percy to have nobody rival him 💀

Never once in his povs did he ever think about how much better he was, on the contrary it's just him not feeling good enough about himself. He and Percy NEVER said anything bad about eachother.

His and Percy's rival is just a joke between two powerful demigods who have rival dads, that's literally it. Even if Jason did indeed think he's better, so what about it? What's the big deal?

he has worked hard and accomplished great things, so he has like, every right to be confident in his power, stop acting like hes all weak and inferior when he canonically killed a titan with like his bare fucking hands till the point Krios swore vengeance on him. No he's not "weak" or morally inferior to Percy as a person. You are merely trying to cope. Not to mention the way people judge a character's worth SOLEY based on their abilities is a huge red flag in itself, but that's a discussion for another time.

he shouldve canonically had more achievments and power than he originally got in the books as a son of jupiter. but rick made Percy too OP and fumbled jason for the sake of keeping percy's spotlight intact. Has it ever dawned on people that Percy is shown to have cool abilities like bending tears but Jason is never shown to have abilities like controlling lungs? Yeah, that's authors privilege for ya.

Y'all put Percy in an obnoxiously high pedestal and that's not a good thing. It diminishes his flaws and makes him appear so saint like and Gary Stu even though he's not. the fact that ppl get so sensitive over their rivalry and try to belittle jason by making up scenarios (like claiming jason thinks he's superior and shit) and go around saying that to ppl to reduce his value DESPITE being well aware that he has like enough hate already, is so insanely petty. BOTH Jason and Percy deserve equal amounts of respect.

God forbid a teenage boy say he's better than the other as a joke, he's such a terrible, stuck up, and shitty person who deserved death for that, isn't he?

#Attack me all you want idc I said what I said. #Yall just dig up reasons at this point. It's giving an 8 year old roblox kid behaviour. #Fandom to a boy with a tragic story who literally did nothing but exist and be a good person: he's a villian who deserved death! 😡😠 #I swear if Jason slander still exists a few years later then I have no hope in this fandom anymore. #I thought this fandom was peaceful 😔 #“I hate Jason with passion bc he's boring and nobody should rival Percy because he's the best.How dare Jason be the son of the king of gods #“how dare someone be percy's equal. Nobody should be written as Percy's competitor 😤😡😠” like womp womp ig #Y'all are so salty lmfao. The fandom makes Percy into such a gary stu even when he's not. #pjo #pjo series #pjo hoo toa #pjo fandom #percy jackon and the olympians #heroes of olympus #percy jackson #jason grace #pjo hoo #hoo

[lanadelnegan]

Ghost - Part 5 (final)

Negan x Glenn'sSister!Reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, angst, angry sex, p in v, anal, sex on Negan's bike, slight daddy kink, situationship

Part 4 here // Part 1 here

“Knew I’d find you here, doll.” Negan got off his bike, sighing before he sat next to me on the steps of the cabin. “Wanna tell me why the hell you just up and left?” His leg pressed against mine as I stared ahead at the ground, unable to look at him. 

“Just needed time to think.”

“Look at me.” His voice was deep, demanding, and I could hear the pain dripping from it. I refused to look at him.. refused to blink. All I could do was stare at a walker pinned to a tree in the distance like it might save me from this moment. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Negan nod disappointedly before looking away and my heart sank.  “We’ve both had enough time to think, y/n.” His voice cracked when he said my name like tears were forming in his throat. “On the drive over here, I had every intention of fighting for you. For us. But then I thought, I don't want to be with someone who isn’t certain they wanna be with me too.”

I nodded acceptingly. “That’s fair.” I refused to cry, not wanting him to see how this was affecting me. I’d be brave now, and feel sorry for myself later like always. “So why are you even here, then?” I asked and the question made Negan scoff. “Because I at least have enough respect for you to tell you goodbye.”

“I guess you don’t remember our first night together.” I scoffed back at him. 

“How can I ever fuckin’ forget? … and that? Is the problem. Buuut…” His voice changed suddenly, like he switched into the asshole character I saw at Alexandria the first time. “...If I can survive losing Lucille, I’ll damn sure be okay losing you, darlin’.” 

His words felt like a punch to my gut, leaving me numb and speechless. Negan stood after a few moments, whistling as he walked back to his bike but I was behind him before he could reach it. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?!” I whisper-yelled, not wanting to draw the attention of the dead. 

Negan quickly turned to face me, smirking while he towered over me. “It means.. I’ll go back to my wives at the sanctuary. And you? can sit here for the rest of your lonely little life.. wishing you still had me.” 

My only response was my hand colliding with his cheek hard enough to sting my skin and draw blood from his lip. Negan grinned wider, showing his white teeth as he wiped a drop of blood away with his thumb. There was a darkness in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before and it made me wonder how I was stupid enough to ever believe there was good in him. 

“Fuck you.” My jaw clenched as I spoke and mindfully held back my fists at my sides, desperately wanting to press one into his arrogant skull. 

“Yeah?” He asked, tilting his head. “Okay.” He breathed before pulling me forward by my wrist and smashing his lips into mine. I tasted the lingering blood on his mouth and sucked harder at his lip like it was some miracle drug that would heal me from his hurtful words. 

He bit me back and I shoved him away, breathing heavily. A low grumble came from his throat before he pulled me back to him and wrapped his fingers around throat. “You want me to stop? Tell me.” His grip tightened around my neck and my lips remained closed. His head fell back as he let out a loud chuckle and returned his heavy gaze to mine. My eyes watered from the pressure building in my neck and his eyes softened along with his grip.

Negan looked away before letting go of my neck completely. For a moment I thought he felt bad about it, until he grabbed my wrist and maneuvered me to bend over his bike. I gasped when my stomach pressed into the seat and knocked the wind out of my lungs. Before I had a chance to stand, Negan yanked my shorts down along with my underwear and lined his already hard and ready cock up to my entrance. 

"You ready to stop with the dramatics, darlin'? We both know we can't stay away from each other." He slid into me with one deep push and kept himself there for a moment. "Feel how perfect that is? We were made for each other, baby." He began thrusting and my moans grew louder as heat flooded my core. 

His hand found my ponytail and he jerked it harshly, making me yelp and my back arched while his dick reached a deeper level inside me.

"Negan, fuuuuck, feels so good."

"I know baby, I know." He breathed heavily, keeping his pace fast and steady. Letting go of my ponytail, his hand dropped to my ass while the other remained squeezing my hip. I exhaled a pained breath when I felt his thumb force its way into my other hole.

"So pretty and tight." He said, looking down to watch his thumb and cock slide in and out of me simultaneously. Then suddenly he removed both and I whined at the empty feeling.

He circled the head of his dick around my asshole and my eyes went wide with the sudden painful stretch of his tip entering.

"Fuck." Negan grunted before pushing the rest of length inside me until his balls were pressed against my pussy lips. We both moaned in unison as his pace sped up. "Shit, baby, look at you. Taking daddy's cock like a fucking pro. So fucking proud of my girl." He yanked my ponytail again, hitting a spot that made me see stars.

"Negan!" I practically screamed.

His other hand reached in front of me, covering my mouth. His fingers gripped painfully around my face, bringing tears to my eyes while he ripped my insides apart.

"Goddamn it, doll. Gonna fill that little ass with my cum and watch it drip outta you. You want that? Huh?" He pulled you back further towards him, biting your neck after whispering the filthy words in your ear.

The heat continued to build in your core and you felt yourself getting close. "Yes, please Negan. I need it, please!" I begged desperately.

Negan chuckled darkly and pulled back, leaving you empty again. He finished himself off with his hand, grunting as he spilled onto the ground.

I turned around, pulling my shorts back up quickly. "What the hell?" I asked, confused at his sudden change of plans.

"Ahhh." He said relieved, buttoning himself back up and adjusting his clothing. "Something wrong, darlin'?"

I scoffed, staring at him in disbelief. "No, not at all."

"Good. Because I'm done pleasing you, sweetheart." Negan smirked at you, throwing a leg over his bike and starting the engine.

"Just like that, huh? You're just.. giving up that easy? Did I mean anything to you?"

"Of course. Always will. And when you work out your own shit and realize you fucked up, I'll be here. I love you, y/n. Nothing will change that."

I watched him disappear in the distance as he drove off, taking my heart with him.

Three weeks later:

I've settled back into Alexandria, slowly making amends with the group. The Saviors had a falling out the day we attacked the Sanctuary and we haven't seen any of them since. Except Negan.

After our escapade at the cabin, Negan had apparently drove to Alexandria and surrendered. He's been a prisoner here since the day he showed up and my heart hurts for him. I haven't been to see him, and by doing so, I'm only hurting myself. I guess its my punishment to myself for letting him go. But its been three weeks now and I can't wait any longer.

Everyone knows about our past situationship after I felt it necessary to come clean. I figured we would never be able to move on unless I told the truth. At first it didn't go well, but time mends everything and I think they're starting to forgive me.

It was getting dark when I knocked on Rick's door, explained the cause of my desperation, and he reluctantly gave me the keys to Negan's cell. Arriving at the door of the basement, I took a deep breath, and walked down the stairs into darkness. The only light in the cold room was the moonlight shining through one small window by his cell and it reminded me of our moment together in the trailer - the day I took a bullet for him. I knew then I was in love him with him and nothing has changed since.

"Negan.." I whispered, walking closer.

He lied on his back on his cot, looking up at the ceiling with a hand behind his head.

Silence.

"Please talk to me."

Nothing. He wouldn't even look at me.

"Ok, I'll talk then." I leaned against his bars. "I'm sorry it's taken me awhile to come see you. I needed some time to work out my shit - as you put it." I paused, giving him a moment to react but he didn't. "Well.. it's worked out. If you care?" I said teasingly.

His head fell to the side as he looked at me, trying not to smile. I took that as a welcome sign and quickly opened his cell door with the key. He barely had time to stand up before I ran to his arms and kissed him like my life depended on it.

He lifted me before laying me down on the cot and climbing over me. His mouth stayed connected to mine and without words, we made a million promises to each other in that moment.

We'd never leave again.

A/n: This final part was slightly difficult for me to finish. I have so many other one-shots in process that I'm ready to focus on, so I'm sorry if this felt rushed. But this entire story was so fun to write. Thanks so much to whoever requested it! <3

Tag list: tag list: @loganlostitall @chaospossum @negansbabydoll66 @redqueenphoenix @n3g5nx @crustyweirdo @youngpersonaathletebear @sadgirlzluvdilfs @ilovebill-and-gustav @neganscumbucket @manipulatorpoem @im-a-goddamn-cat @raininhell @mahogany-cherry-wine @daryldixmedown @munsonslovergirl @sanctuaryforthelost @thelauraborealis @carlgrimesbbg @c3linesworld @blueheisenbergtragedy @startwinklekitty @darlingmadelinee @oceandeepthirst @jschlattsqtip @lavenderchai @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @neganswoman @n7crophiliac @cats-writing @alldevilsarehere90 @natykacenka @queermilfs @stasiaangelsinner @lupa-03 @sadgirlzluvdilfs @pamago-bb @javier-penas-wifexx420 @motelprincess444 @thatonefroggirl @myhappyplaceofstuff @darlingmadelinee @used2beee @easystreet07 @princess-23-xoxo @twdxtrevor @dilfsandmartinis @sarahhxx03 @minaxcarter @kukka-roo @rinsdesires @6kaja9 @sasiiik9174 @fanficwriter5 @theoraekenslover

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[pinkaditty]

Beauty (Twisted Wonderland, Rook Hunt)

tiptoes into blog again but steps on a comically placed whoopee cushion and alerts the entirety of my eagerly awaiting readers

hey hi hi sorry this is 2 let you all know that i am ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I AM ALIVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! i had 2 disappear 2 focus entirely on my studies bc i was due 2 graduate with honors soon and i needed 2 have ALL my work completed lol! anyways, im glad 2 say that soon i will be the proud owner of an early bachelor’s degree in pre-med. this honors thesis better look STUNNING on my fucking resume. 

a/n: anyways YES im working on ur asks now that i have more free time yaaaaaaaaay!!! in the meantime enjoy this lol i wrote it entirely on a whim bc i saw the new rook card on twt and was like “hm. okay fine ass.” anyways let it be known i know VERY LITTLE about book 7 and Rook in general (ive seen spoilers but i don’t actively seek them out, plus i don't have the game anymore bc free palestine, fuck disney), so this might be ooc or an unusually placed scenario. please let me know how i can improve!

summary: rook’s back to his old self. he’s not sure of himself, but you have some choice words. 

cw: suggestive!!!!!!!! minors DNI!!!!!!!!!, book 7 spoilers i think, gn!reader (specifics of reader’s physical attributes are not mentioned, but Rook uses the masculine French word for "dear"), NOT PROOFREAD!!!!.

MINORS DNI AS PER USUAL THIS IS SUGGESTIVE!! THANK YOU FOR RESPECTING MY BOUNDARY!!!

“Well, I admit… the version of me you see standing before you, cher, was not me at my prime…”

You stare curiously at the man before you. Unmistakably, this was Rook. Same French accent, albeit with a harsher twang, same upturned green eyes, same haunting, knowing smile. It was Rook, without a doubt. But, he was different. He looked different. His uniform wasn’t Pomefiore- it was Savanaclaw. His hair was longer and wilder, choppy bangs and uneven waves falling in his face and along his back. His skin was darker, a light tan present on his usually pristine, pale skin. Freckles dotted the bridge of his nose and crest of his cheeks, and a smattering of them was found on his shoulders and neck. He didn’t stand quite as tall; rather, he stood with a slight slouch. Bending forward just slightly, piercing green eyes peering at you from beneath the shadow of  a wide-brim brown hat. Strangely, like this, he appeared considerably more predatory. 

Suddenly, him previously being in Savanaclaw made sense. 

However, this spurred a question in you. Not about his decision to change dorms, but about his words.

“What do you mean, not at your ‘prime’?”

You furrow your brows in confusion as you stare back at him, searching for answers. This Rook- with far more obvious muscle definition and hardened expressions- seemed quite at his fully-functioning peak. You step towards him, your eyes raking over his form, lingering at his rough, calloused hands on his hips, at his broad, freckle-covered chest, and at his perfect cupid’s bow, where a stray freckle laid. “Mon trickster,” he speaks, the sharp twang of his accent making you shiver. His lips rise into a knowing grin. Your eyes snap back up to his eyes, glued to you in irony. “It’s rude to stare.”

Your cheeks heat up only for a moment, but you wave him off. “Rook…” You start, giving him one more once over before glancing away again, not wanting to get too caught up in observing his proportions. “I don’t think this isn’t your prime. If anything…” You turn to him again, looking him in the eyes. You roll your bottom lip between your teeth before hurriedly spitting out the words before you could regret them. “...I think you’re beautiful.” 

You would expect Rook, of all people, to be unfazed by these words. However, he seems a bit taken aback, his eyes widening and his posture straightening, before he leans back forward again, his predatory smirk stretching wider across his face. “Merci, mon chéri, however, I do believe-”

“I mean it.” You quickly interrupt him, stopping him from beginning a self-depricating tirade of how unaccustomed he used to be to the concept of beauty. “I think you’re beautiful like this.” You face him head-on, your heart pounding loudly in your ears. This shouldn’t feel like confessing, but strangely, it does. 

Now it’s Rook’s turn to blush. His smile fades, his eyes going from knowing to gentle curiosity. The warm redness of the blush spreads across his tan cheeks, accentuating the darkness of his freckles. Something about that is endearing to you, and for a moment, you are emboldened. 

You step closer to him, to which he instinctively steps back, maintaining space while his senses are momentarily thrown off by his reaction to your praise. However, he doesn’t get to do that for long. He stumbles back into a stool, gripping onto its edge as he falls onto it, surprised. He would have known that was there, if not for your closeness and persistence. You move even closer, placing a knee between his thighs on the stool, boosting your height and leaning in to grab his face. He freezes, momentarily shocked by your bold actions, but he soon relaxes, his shoulders falling and his breathing returning to normal. He looks down, his eyes becoming hooded before he looks up at you again, his emerald gaze more alluring than before. He bites his lip before speaking, probably to distract you. Admittedly, it almost works. “Mon trickster…” He speaks again, and you wonder how anyone got used to hearing him speak, when such a harsh twang in a smooth accent contradicted so perfectly. He breathes shakily, a blush returning to his face. You deduced he was definitely trying to lure you in. “You’re being… awfully bold today. May I ask what’s brought this on-”

“Your imperfections are what makes your beauty!” You don’t shout, but you do raise your voice, ensuring his words are drowned out. Being this close to him makes you somewhat nervous, but you stand your ground, pressing your palms a little more into the flesh of his cheeks. He blinks at you confusedly, waiting for you to speak. You open your mouth to speak, but close it just as quickly, letting out a few false starts before sighing. You look away, taking a deep breath, before steeling yourself and facing him once more. Slowly, you let your eyes take in his face, until your gaze reaches his freckles, prominent against his tan skin. You find yourself stroking his freckles with your thumbs, gently tracing the nonsensical patterns in which they appear. You finally find your confidence again, and speak without thinking. “Your freckles and tan don’t tell me that you had bad or sensitive skin- they tell me that you loved the sun.” Your voice is so gentle it surprises yourself, not whispered, but low, and filled with a strange intimacy. 

His eyes widen at your words, his lips parted. He breathes shakily, but something about it is genuine this time. His eyes remain fixated on yours, his thick eyebrows downturned in a strange mix of melancholy and yearning. You stroke his face more, and he relaxes, closing his eyes and letting you hold him. You begin to breathe shakily yourself, your body flushing with heat and your fingers beginning to tremble just slightly. You move your right hand from his cheek to his hair, not once lifting your palm. Your fingers gently move through his hair, holding the back of his head, and he leans into your touch, exhaling as your pinky brushes the back of his neck. You lean in as well, following him as he follows your touch. He opens one eye to peer at you curiously, gauging your next action. When you gently pull at his waves, his eye snaps shut again, and he disguises a moan as a throaty exhale. You speak again, led purely by the spur of the moment. “Your uneven bangs and wild hair don’t tell me that you didn’t care for it- it tells me that you took the time to let it grow, and chose not to restrict what was yours.” You say this close to his neck, your lips gently brushing against the shell of his ear. He shivers, gripping the stool harder.

You begin to pull back, keeping your palms to his skin. You move your right hand back to his cheek, where your left hand still rests on his other one. You pause for a moment before drifting both hands downwards, your palms and fingers tickling his jaw and neck. He leans his head back to allow you access, sighing quietly at the feeling. You gently trail your palms and fingers down his neck before finally resting at the base. You then gently drag your hands to his shoulders and squeeze them, looking up at him. His blush still remains, and his lips are still parted, his breathing still shaky. He gazes at you expectantly, as though eagerly awaiting your next bit of praise. You lean towards his face and press your forehead to his, looking down at his shoulders. “Your slouch does not tell me that you had bad posture- it tells me that you were shyer, and didn’t take pride in your appearance.” You begin to trail your palms down his shoulders, your fingers feather-light on his skin in their wake. He shivers at the gentle stimulation, closing his eyes again. His breathing gets heavier and shakier, and you begin to feel heat pool within you once more. You pull your head back, straightening up as your stare at him. Leaning your face close to his, you continue to trail your palms down his arms, your fingers lightly pressing into his muscles, mapping out the structure of his body. Eventually you lift your palms, using only your fingers to trail down his forearm, tracing the insides of his wrists. He hardly flinches, likely expecting this, but still shivers at the sensation. “It also tells me…” You continue, your lips mere inches from his, but not daring to move any closer, staring at his cupid’s bow and blonde lashes. Your fingers reach his hands, and you gently pry them from their grip on the stool, moving them to his lap, palms up. You trace your fingers along his rough, calloused palms and fingers, making shapes and patterns. “...That you took more pride in the things you did with your hands.” You press your palms into his and his eyes flutter open, not surprised to find you mere inches from his face. He exhales, his blush deepening. He blinks at you, knowing you still weren’t finished yet. 

“Your imperfections lead me to your beauty. That’s why…” You trail off, lifting one hand from his palm and caressing his cheek once more. “...You’re beautiful.”

You begin to pull back, closing your eyes and quickly moving away, beginning to move your knee from between his thighs on the stool. However, he quickly grabs you, his fingers gripping the back of your uniform as he pulls you in. Your knee follows your movements, pushing into his inner thigh on the stool. He sharply inhales, looking down, before looking back up at you with hooded eyes. His eyes still look expectant, as though he still wants more.

“Mon trickster…” He says lowly, pulling you in further. Your knee presses harder against his inner thigh and your upper body closer towards his. He breathes shakily, moving one hand from the back of your uniform to the front, bunching some of it in his grasp. He tilts his head towards you, and you can feel his breath on your lips as your eyes lock with his. Heat flushes through your body again.

“Are there any other… imperfect beauties… that I possess, that you’d like to point out to me?”

rejoice! entertainment be upon ye!

a/n: okay but seriously, i hope u all enjoyed! i wrote this in like,, a few hours? for reference it is like. 5:45 am where i am as i type this LOLLLL! i was up lateee bc i no longer have schoolwork which meansss every spare second i have that im not working working, ill be doing these. anyways! please please pleeeeaaaasssseee leave a like, comment, and a reblog if u liked it! i love 2 know that u loved my work! ik its been a while but i promise 2 try 2 be more active… i swear!! oh, and leave an ask if u have any ideas about other things i should write!

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland smut #minors dni #rook twst #rook x reader #twst rook #rook hunt #rook twisted wonderland #rook hunt x reader #rook hunt twisted wonderland #rook hunt twst #rook hunt x yuu #rook hunt smut #twst #rook hunt x mc

[hornyandsadvampire]

#truly sorry #respectfully #Gerard way #Gerard fucking way #my chemical romance #mcr #mcr5 #reunion tour #secretary gerard way #Gerard way is real #let's stay respectful #respectfully it's hot

[dee-morris]

Some Random Thoughts on the Nature of Free Will

Thinking about that conversation from the book that got put into The Resurrectionists. Aziraphale is explaining how he and Crowley are good and wicked, respectively, but they have no choice while Elspeth does. Bc humans can't be truly good unless they have the choice to be wicked.

(This is where I usually end up arguing with someone on Twitter lol bc they think Aziraphale is being Mean to Crowley by calling him wicked. It's just a brand name darling, not a judgment call. He literally said in the same breath that he's not TRULY wicked bc he wasn't given a choice.)

So I'm sitting here thinking about free will and the choices the celestials are given, which are not many. And I wonder if one of the reasons they were drawn to the Arrangement was to give them each the choices that humans were born with. One can't be truly good without the opportunity to do wrong, so perhaps being able to work both sides of the equation helped them develop into truly moral beings and not just extensions of their offices. We see in Uz how they're able to work together and bounce off each other to save Job's family, even though the Arrangement didn't properly exist yet.

I've also seen lots of takes and metas that indicate that people view Heaven and Hell as a class system: Heaven is the upper-class privileged majority, while Hell is oppressed, kicked out, downtrodden. I think people forget that the primary difference between the two is aesthetic. Hell has all the same powers as Heaven, and they both intend to burn humanity to the ground in order to prove their gang is best.

No, if we're going to talk about who's got privilege, it's definitely humanity over heaven or hell. We have free will and imagination, which are more miraculous than anything. Sure they've got all these powers and can work miracles and so on, but where's that gotten them? We can actually change things. All they can do is try and influence us to change things, and their success rate isn't high. Two of the most powerful beings in the universe couldn't convince an eleven year old boy to blow things up. That's. Pathetic, actually.

Which brings me back around to the ineffables. Because they actually DO have free will, but I don't think they're used to realizing that they do, which might be why they act a little bone headed sometimes. The show implies and the book comes right out and says that they picked it up from being around humans. And like I said earlier, I think the Arrangement played a big part. They were actually able to choose to do good or evil, a luxury that normally only humans can enjoy.

And the best part of this, for me anyway, is knowing that everything that they are to each other is a conscious choice. Aziraphale didn't want to be a fighter, so he gave his sword away and made the conscious choice to be soft and silly and get into scrapes. And Crowley chooses to come to his rescue because he likes it, not because he is obligated. It's a way for him to choose to do good without getting in trouble. They are each other's outlet to explore humanity in a way that would be impossible if they were on their own.

Aziraphale speaks French badly and flutters his eyelashes and plans elaborate Balls because he loves doing human things and he wants to do them with Crowley. Crowley drives a sleek classic sex machine with bullet hole stickers on the windows and goes on capers and performs daring moves because he loves doing things the human way and he wants to do them with Aziraphale. The way they interact and work together because they WANT to, and not because it's their Great Bloody Destiny or whatever, is so fucking beautiful to me.

#aziraphale #good omens #crowley #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #aziraphale my beloved #good omens meta #crowley good omens #free will #heaven and hell