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#and I still find it forgettable

shint0buri · 8 months

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I finally, FINALLY listened to Pado (the CD) and FINALLY heard all the songs. My opinion? I need to hear these songs in a club immediately (or some other dancing space) because dancing from the waist up in my car is not cutting it. I need the music to be so loud that it can enter my bloodstream and change my heartbeat to match.

Holy crap though like "Pado" really does deserve a Korean release, I'm immensely curious how it would sound and what kind of lyrics they'd write. Also I am praying to every god out there that they release a "Pado" choreo video. Watching it at the concert, it was beautiful, and I want it ingrained into my brain

(I think my biggest gripe about "Pado" is that I get too wrapped up in the music and the effects to properly pay attention to their voices)

#loved Pado I'm sorry it's my type of music #Loop is fun #I need to listen to Billie Jean again I only heard it once #but fear not the album will be on loop in my car for the next several days #Pado #'Shh' I said from the start I find enjoyable but ultimately a bit forgettable/generic #actually when it first came out and I replayed the song in my head during spare moments I kept accidentally recalling other songs instead #'Made in Heaven' is unfortunately not my type of song (just like Spring Snow) (I'M SORRY I don't control what makes my brain go 'brrrrrr')#but I still super appreciate it and it's fun live (also just like 'Spring Snow')#anyway that's my album review hahaha #rambles

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girl4music · 2 months

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My mom asked me last night why I don’t watch any romance TV shows/movies. Because we have our ‘watch’ nights often but she’s picking up on the fact that I “never choose a romance to watch with me”.

What she doesn’t realize is I’ve chosen many romances. I’ve chosen Xena and ‘Wynonna Earp’ and ‘First Kill’ to watch with her. But she doesn’t see them as romances because they’re not straight romances.

It flies right over her head that we are watching romances. Even when there’s literal WLW kissing/sex scenes. Romance scenes between the characters.

Okay, fair enough, Xena is a fantasy action show.

‘Wynonna Earp’ is a supernatural western.

‘First Kill’ is a supernatural fantasy.

But surely she must know by now that the main reason why I watch them and love them so much is because they’re WLW. She knows I’m bisexual. I came out to her awhile ago. So surely she must be able to tell that I consider what I watch actual romances.

Come on mom. In actual fact everything that I choose to watch with you I do because it is a romance to me.

#mom #why don’t you ever watch a romance with me?#woman #everything I watch with you is a romance #you’re just blinded by your heterosexuality #she’s not homophobic #she’s expecting the notebook or dear john #I’m giving her sexy females kicking ass and then allievating their battle lust with each other #and I’m saying it’s the equivalent #that’s what’s romantic to me #personally I find the notebook boring as fuck #and I’d still probably think that even if it was WLW #and as for dear john #honestly I’ve forgotten what that one was even about #these movies are as forgettable as I am queer #just the other day we watched THAT episode of wynonna earp #the one where the main narrative was two lovers being separated from each other and then reuniting #and if that’s not a romance then I don’t know what is #yes #the lovers were two women #so what?#we’ve watched THAT trilogy of xena #the one where the main narrative was about a ring and the conclusion was about a woman #and that woman happened to be gabrielle #and that warrior to come and awaken her with a kiss happened to be xena #how is it not a romance?#how is it not romeo and juliet?#guinivere and lancelot?#rose and jack?#my mom is homoblind

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repurposedmeatlocker · 1 year

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Thinking about how when I was 15 I really wanted to try and get into newer music after ages of being one of those “I’m not like other girls” kids, so I would open a indie rock / alternative rock Pandora station and let it play. And MAN honestly a majority of the songs on there were pretty bad.

#dw I ended up finding modern artists I actually like fortunately #bad as in extremely forgettable btw #I still have some bands and songs I enjoy from then but yeah I ended up realizing fast I had to look outside of rock and alternative #if I wanted something interesting at least #squack

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foreveranevilregal · 2 years

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The longer I spend in fandom and consuming any kind of media, the more I realize that the best way to do things is just consume the content you enjoy. Don’t hate watch/read/listen to stuff. It’s only making you miserable. And sure, you’re allowed to try something and realize it’s not your thing, but if you keep consuming it after that point, it’s on you. If no one is forcing you to do it, and you’re doing it out of your own free will, knowingly consuming something you hate, I’m not sure what you’re expecting the result to be. I’ve learned to make liberal use of my blacklist/hide song/block tag to be able to avoid content I know is upsetting to me. There have been a few things in my various fandoms that have been upsetting me lately, triggering me to the point of full panic attacks and throwing up. I’ve chosen to simply stop seeking out or engaging with that content so that I can cut that negative energy out of my life. Blocked some tags on ao3. Hid that one song on Spotify. I mostly listen to the same songs over and over now and it’s the ones I know I enjoy. Hating things is exhausting. I’m using my energy to make my own content now that’s catering to my needs. Just…if you take anything away from this, stop engaging with stuff to hate on it. Habitual hatred is exhausting and won’t fix anything. Commenting things like “this sucks”, “this makes no sense”, “why do people even like this” really won’t change anything. Stop dwelling on what you hate and gravitate towards what you love. Life is better that way.

#personal #fandom #I know I need to keep working on this #but yeah not hate listening to that song anymore helps a lot #course I’m still hoping it goes down in flames #but I’m sure it will #it’s deeply forgettable and it’s only the subject matter I find upsetting #what I don’t get is the comments on the videos of my favorite song and only that song #saying it’s awful and they hate it #dude you clicked on this #I get it more on the compilation vids but when it’s just her like…#dude just click away #go listen to Sara jo or something and calm down #hatred really is just drinking poison and expecting the other person to die

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libraryraccoon · 6 months

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Yuu and reader but

But reader is forgettable.

Imagine Reader who arrived in Twisted Wonderland with Yuu, they got along very well together and with Grim, but Yuu and Grim end up abandoning Reader, creating their group of friends that we all know. Reader tries to approach them, become friends with them, but without success.

And then Reader finds himself alone, and everyone acts as if he doesn't exist. So much so that Reader questions his existence and becomes very quiet.

The ghosts realize this and spend time with Reader, and Reader considers them his only true friends. I'm pretty sure Reader would have tried to kill himself to become a ghost and join the ghosts gang but would have failed.

Reader would have stopped going to class, some teachers (Trein and Crewel) would have noticed and talked to him about it.

Reader walks around campus at all hours without anyone noticing him (he would have already been dancing in class and singing loudly and out of tune and no one would have noticed).

In the end, Reader is left alone for so long, talking to no one except the ghosts, that he forgets his name (the ghosts call him "Little Ghost").

And at book 5, he meets Chenya. And this is how it happens :

“What do you do alone ?” Chenya asked.

"Wait... Are you talking to me ?" Reader asked sitting in a tree, looking left and right before looking at Chenya.

"Yeah ? There's no one else around." the cat remarked amusedly.

"Oh- sorry I'm not used to people seeing me !" Reader said with a smile on his face, excited that someone alive was talking to him.

"Huh ? Why ?" Chenya asked, frowning in confusion.

“Well, people still act like I’m not there, like I don’t exist.” Reader explained. “Exept ghosts, you’re the first to talk to me in months !”

“oh…” Chenya looked worried. “And what’s your name ?”

"Oh I'm-huh..." Reader said before frowning.

“Well, hello ‘huh’, I’m Chenya.” Chenya said trying to lighten the mood.

“Nah, nah.. I don’t remember my name.” Reader said sounding scared, his breathing quickening.

“huh ?”

"What's my name? What's my name? Who am I? I forgot? I forgot..."

"Hey, calm down, you'll remember.." Chenya tried to calmly reassure.

"No- no ! You're not supposed to notice me or talk to me ! Go with more important people, people who remember their names, who they are !" (Reader having an existential crisis <3)

In the end, Chenya manages to calm Reader down, and he calls him "Little Ghost" (like ghosts) until they find his name.

After that, Chenya will talk about that as his friends at the RSA (like Neige), and they would do all for create a new identity at Reader and after that they will take him with them at the RSA (The RSA director was the one that have the idea of the new identity).

Sam friends of the other side won't stop crying about "The child that have forget his name", making Sam confused (they never answer at his questions about him).

And Trein would be the one finding out that Reader have left three days later.

If nobody write that, I will write it myself.

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iridescentblued · 6 days

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꒰୨୧꒱ — 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫 !

꒰୨୧꒱ — 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: geto x afab!reader

꒰୨୧꒱ — 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 && 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: nsfw / 18+, minors and ageless blogs dni! geto is a college algebra math tutor && reader is failing, written in lapslock, geto is a tinie, TINIE bit of a perv (but we love him), not beta’d in any shape or form so please excuse mistakes, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it, folks), piv, oral (f!receiving), use of pet names (kitten, angel, sweetheart), praise, reader calls geto ‘senpai’ until she doesn’t, size kink. wc; 8.5k

꒰୨୧꒱ — 𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒂𝒚𝒔. . . this is my first fic on this blog and also my first jjk fic in my entire life so please go easy on me aha i tried to keep it relatively tame, but based on my plans for the future, this will not be a trend sjfigjsfgj. reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

there wasn’t anything special about your case; at least, that’s what suguru had thought when he picked up your request before he met you. before he met you, you were just another student trying to demystify the painfully enigmatic art of getting through college algebra. before he met you, he had already tagged this case as another charity stint — a good way to get brownie points with the dean’s office and the mathematics and natural sciences department. in fact, thinking of all his tutoring cases as community service made them somewhat palatable, if not a little forgettable. he was quite sure, at the time, that you’d be in and out — both of the tutoring center and his memory. such was the case with most of his other tutees, anyway.

he hadn’t expected you to be… well, you — a pretty little thing, with your sweet smile and your wide doe eyes. on the first day, you’d stood out; you’d arrived at the tutoring center’s lobby in a short dress, knit cardigan, and coquettish makeup, as if every fiber of your being were bidding the spring a solid farewell. multiple heads had turned, including his, as you came up to the front desk and asked for one geto suguru for college algebra. you were eager for summer, suguru had learned as you broke the ice little by little, in part because you looked forward to visiting okinawa with your family, but also because you were eager to get your first semester out of the way. that much, you had in common with most of his other students — almost all of the ones seeking help in college algebra only took it as a depressing core requirement of whatever degree they were doing. you, specifically, were focusing on fashion design; that very vividly explained your attention to your looks. this mathematics class was a thorn in your side, a mandatory thing that was simply supposed to get you through later business-oriented classes in your degree program. for suguru, however, college algebra had become the perfect excuse from the moment he’d laid eyes on you.

the more time he spends with you, the more he thinks you’re exactly his taste. it starts off with little things he finds attractive, things he picks up while he’s watching you fill out the practice sheets he’s prepared for you on quadratic equations or while trying to get you to understand logarithms — your neat, tiny handwriting, almost like print; your habit of boxing your final answers in firm strokes, even if they’re hopelessly wrong; your colored tabs, cascading down the page side of your textbook. but as the weeks wear on, he sees all the little things in between — the way your long eyelashes quiver when you stop and close your eyes as you think for the answer, the upturn of your plush lips when you have the same answer on the practice sheet as he does, the deepening of your artificial blush with a natural hue when you realize you don’t know the answers to his gentle questions. he notices that you refuse to wear anything longer than a knee-length skirt despite the still-strong winds, notices that your tiny palms are always smooth and pink, that your hair always smells of coconut milk. these are things he can’t help but jot down in his memory — that was exactly what you were, after all: memorable.

and the more he remembers about you, the more suguru wants you. yet he’s never made a move, never given so much as a hint of his interest, not only because there are prying eyes all around the building but also because you have never so much as shown a smidge of desire back. in fact, he has to wonder if you’ve ever thought of him in a different capacity — not as a tutor, but as a man. if you have, you’ve never made that obvious; you always talk to him respectfully, the little wall you’ve erected between the both of you remaining steady, and you never let your eyes linger on his face for longer than it takes for him to explain what you don’t know. suguru has had his fair share of female students, and in all of them, he’s seen the same kind of hunger — to few, he’s catered to their whims, if only to pass the time, if only for his own benefit. but you, with your ribbons in your hair and your sweet, sweet mouth, have never once shown that same kind of desire.

he doesn’t know if it frustrates him, but he does know one thing — it makes him want you all the more.

he wants you even now, as you sit across from him, dolled up as usual. even now, as your eyes take on a glassy sheen of defeat, your cheeks puffing out in the way that tells him you’re admonishing yourself once again, he craves you — maddeningly so. and he realizes that it doesn’t really matter if you're not the one to fall first, as long as he can still have you.

“time out,” you beg, your fingers meeting the palm of your hand to signal a break. “my brain feels like it’s going to explode.”

“you just had a break ten minutes ago,” suguru reminds you, though there’s a lighthearted amusement to his voice that makes you smile sheepishly. “at this rate, you’ll be on more breaks than you’ll be taking the time to actually learn.”

“i’m trying,” you groan, your fingers curling against your forehead as you bump your head against your fist. “i just don’t think i’m cut out for this polynomial whatever — trial and error bullshit.”

“you’ll hate me for saying this — but you’ll never know unless you keep trying.”

“funny.” your sigh rustles the papers in front of you gently. “how do you do it, senpai?”

“hm?”

“you’re not only good at this stuff, but you’re so good you’re able to take the time to teach people like me.”

“strengths and weaknesses — it’s the natural way of the world.” suguru smiles gently at you, and he notes how his chest feels tighter when you return the sentiment shyly. “i could never do what you’re doing in your own degree, try as i might. anyway, you’ll get there. i won’t let you become my first ever failed project, you know.”

“i wouldn’t want to let you down either, senpai, but—” the back end of your pencil taps lightly against the surface of the table. “it just feels hopeless. i can’t focus on anything. it’s so… so abstract, and everyone here is talking all at once, and i don’t even know what i’m ever going to get out of this class in the long run.”

even when you’re dejected, you look pretty; your bottom lip juts out naturally when you whine like this, and for a moment, suguru can’t say anything in response. he’s too busy wondering what your mouth would feel like on his — on him. when he snaps himself out of his brief reverie, he notices you’re looking around at everyone else — and he has to agree that with the noise level in this whole building, it isn’t the most conducive site for learning, especially when the learner is already so averse to the subject matter.

“i can’t help much in the way of it being too abstract,” he says kindly. “but it’s not a requirement for us to have our sessions here. i know it can be quite distracting, all these voices flying around, so why don’t you look for a place that better suits you, and we can start meeting there instead? the more comfortable you are in your environment, the better you’ll be able to absorb the material, i’m sure.”

“you think?” your pencil comes to a slow halt as you refocus on him, a thoughtful light glimmering behind your gaze. “yeah — yeah, i actually wouldn’t mind that. then, i’ll look for a different place for us to meet, and we can start there next week. how does that sound?”

“whatever suits you suits me,” he responds easily.

he lowers his gaze immediately after you flash him a blinding grin; there are far too many people here, as you both very well know, and if he keeps looking at you and your pretty little expressions any longer, he might just give them something to actually look at.

it had been your idea, not his, so why did suguru feel like he’d dragged you into a compromising situation?

you’d texted him over the weekend that your search for a new venue had been absolutely fruitless; every cafe and study space you’d been to was either too expensive or equally as packed with people, if not both. suguru had seen the preview to your message, but he hadn’t been prepared for what it read out in full when he’d actually opened it.

senpai, would it be too difficult to just meet at my apartment? i attached a map, so let me know!

it wouldn’t be too difficult; logistics-wise, it was walking distance from campus and almost directly across the train station he takes home. it also definitely promised an environment you were comfortable in, and you wouldn’t have to worry about excess noise from any other tutoring groups. no, the difficulty really only lied in himself — you two, all alone, would certainly mean his mind would be up to no good for the two hours every monday, wednesday, and thursday you would be together.

but for your sake, he’d try to rein it in, with the operative word being try.

your place is as neat and as pretty as you are; he doesn’t know if you’ve cleaned up for him, or if you’re naturally this organized, but he likes it all the same. it smells of toasted marshmallow and expensive perfume, and all your furniture matches. suguru supposes he likes that in a woman — someone able to care for herself, someone who cares about herself. and you’re always just as neat and pretty to match, with your hair always styled sweetly, your makeup always enhancing your features.

the problem is that now that he’s in here, where you live, and where you spend most of your time, suguru’s mind seems to wander too much towards thoughts about what you do in private. he rejects studying on the couch, not just because it’s bad for posture and concentration but also because he can’t help but imagine you pressed into the cushions by his hand. he suggests the small dining table you have, but on the second meeting at your place, he starts thinking about what you might look like seated on the table, your ass hanging over the edge and his face buried between your thighs. whenever you look up to ask him something, he drinks in your lovely, made-up face again, and starts wondering what your makeup would look like ruined before he interrupts that trainwreck of a thought with the answer to your question.

by the end of the week, suguru’s defenses are all but shot, and he realizes that this situation might be optimal for you, but it definitely isn’t doing him and his now constantly straining cock any great favors.

he supposes that your performance has somewhat improved; you’re less likely to trail off when you’re thinking and can actually do practice sets for a lot longer without all the noise and hubbub around you. your only real hindrance is yourself and your frustration; you have a habit of giving into your carelessness that sends you spiraling into despair, and it doesn’t help that when you press your cheek against the surface of your dining table and whine, the comfort suguru offers is noticeably delayed because he’s too busy thinking about his cock between your lips.

“my dad’s going to kill me if i fail this midterm,” you grumble, stabbing the practice sheet with your pencil; it skids sideways, and suguru robotically fixes it back into proper alignment for you, careful not to brush against the arm that’s folded inwards, supporting your chin. “he only agreed to let me take this degree because of the business aspect of it. as if i’ll need to know about—” you check the header of the worksheet. “domain and range when i’m doing actual design work.”

“you’ll never know what might be useful later on in life. i definitely thought this was nonsense back in high school — and then i got this job.”

“and now you’re rolling in dough?” you smile slightly. suguru chuckles.

“i’m a long way away from having myself a scrooge mcduck golden pool, but i make enough to get by very comfortably, thanks to this.”

“thanks to me, you mean.”

“you’re not my only student,” he snorts, pinching your elbow; you cry out exaggeratedly. “focus up. the hour’s almost over, and you should have finished with this much earlier.”

“can you leave it as homework?”

“not a chance.”

you blow out a sharp puff of air. “my mom used to do this thing where she’d give me rewards if i did well with my homework. i wish i’d still get something out of this.”

“what kind of rewards did she give you?”

“chocolates — candy, or sometimes we’d go out for milk tea together, if i did a particularly good job.”

“this is math tutoring, not a trip to the dentist,” suguru says, amused.

“a trip to the dentist would be more enjoyable,” you mutter under your breath, picking up your pencil and doodling an angry face next to the number you’re only halfway through solving. “this totally blows.”

“try to finish this before the hour’s up, and i’ll see if i can get you something nice. out of my own paycheck,” he stresses, prodding at your cheek to shift your attention back to the paper. he doesn’t miss the fact that your eyes light up, childish as the promise is.

he doesn’t know if that’s really what motivates you, but you do manage to finish the worksheet with a few minutes to spare before the clock hits seven, and that earns you some light, solo applause. it isn’t much by way of true praise, but you flush with pride all the same. suguru packs his things in silence as you get yourself a glass of water, and you see him to the door. only there does he notice your eager eyes, your expectant smile.

“what’s going through that pretty little head of yours?”

“are you really going to give me a reward? i did great today, you know,” you respond bluntly.

“you were serious about that?” he laughs.

“absolutely. i earned it.” you raise a slim finger, wagging it in his face. he trails it with his gaze, no shortage of amusement in his eyes. “next monday, i want something sweet.”

suguru takes in the sight of you, keeping your door open with your hip; he wonders if you know what you’re doing to him, what you’re asking of him — if you even know there’s nothing that could possibly be sweeter than you at this very moment. he drinks in the sight of your feigned haughty expression on your pretty features, the unnervingly low dip of your tank top, the tempting hemline of your shorts, and feels like you must be aware of what he’s going to do next.

“if it’s something sweet you want, you don’t have to wait until next week.”

he does it before he can think it through — surely, there’s nothing too harmful about a quick kiss? he angles your chin upward with his thumb and forefinger before you can even react to his words, and he tastes you like that for the first time. you’re just as soft and as sweet as he’d imagined, if not more so.

when suguru pulls away, you step back; there’s shock written all over your face, your mouth still hanging open slightly. your voice is gentle, shaky when you start speaking.

“senpai, wha—”

“see you next week. rest up over the weekend, or there’ll be consequences.”

he finds it easy to joke with you now, even after what he’s done — finds it easy to wave goodbye with nonchalance as he walks to the elevator, now that he’s gotten one thing out of his system. the look on your face, the growing blush across the bridge of your nose and your temples is indication enough for suguru to feel confident — if you hadn’t thought about him that way before, you were sure to spend the next few days doing exactly that.

it’s exactly a week before your midterm exam, and suguru notices you’re less than focused.

he’d let you stew over the weekend, not expecting much by way of communication; indeed, his phone hadn’t once been jostled by your texts. he’d taken that silence to assume that you’d been wrapped up in thoughts of the kiss he’d left you with, and you did not disappoint on that front; the next monday saw you fidgety, flushed, and constantly faltering in your words. you asked less questions, which normally indicated a problem, but today, he’d let it slide; you definitely had a little too much on that pretty little brain of yours.

he notices you’re still dolled up — your eyelids are shimmery, and your lips are glossy; you’re wearing a tennis skirt that hits all the right buttons for him, too. it’s true that you’re always pretty well-dressed and put together, but today somehow feels different. if before, suguru had always seen you dressed up simply to look good, today it feels a little more like you’re dressed up to look good for him. he knows it’s a little bit egotistical to assume as much, but he also doesn’t miss the side glances you throw at him when you think he’s not looking at you answering your textbook or the way your cheeks glow when you make the slightest bit of eye contact.

still, you try to focus as much as you can; it’s adorable, in fact, to see all your valiant efforts to appear unperturbed. he figures he’ll play along for as long as you will — what matters to him, after all, is that you’re in the game to begin with. you complain less today, focus on your worksheets, and suguru even manages to witness the sight of your forehead creasing up as you concentrate on a particularly difficult item. you’re adorable, in the kind of way that makes him want to pin you down and have his way with you.

you finish your work without a fuss today; you only actually asked for his help twice, which was a feat in and of itself. and again, when the session is over, you walk him to the door.

this time, when you linger, he waits; you’re clearly not good at hiding your true intentions, as it’s become clear you have something you want to say. as you try to piece your thoughts together, suguru reaches into his backpack’s front pocket and extracts today’s gift — an actual chocolate bar, albeit a rather run of the mill one.

“what’s this?” you ask, your thought process clearly derailed as confusion takes over your features.

“your reward. for a good job last week and today — you said you wanted one, didn’t you?”

“but i thought—” you stop yourself, your mouth opening and closing, suddenly wordless. suguru grins.

“not good enough? i picked that up from a convenience store on my way here, so it definitely isn’t anything special, but i thought it would at least be a good motivator.”

you’re turning red, and there’s turmoil in your eyes — he enjoys this, he realizes, the way he flusters you. if he had known this would be the result, he would have made a move much sooner. you shift your weight from one foot to the other, back and forth, obviously weighing out your options too. finally, you say, “alright.”

“you seem disappointed.”

“i’m not.”

“i’ll get you a better brand next time, if you really don’t like it.”

“it’s not that.”

“so what is it?” he doesn’t expect you to say it, and you don’t defy expectations; your bottom lip just quivers, and suguru chuckles low under his breath, stepping forward just past your doorway, just a little bit closer to you. “don’t tell me you wanted something completely different?”

you don’t say so, but he knows; he can tell by the way you tilt your head back, the way your lips part slightly, the gloss still trailing along the seam. he can tell by the way your torso arches just a little bit closer, almost like an accident. he can tell by the way your eyes bore into his, almost pleading.

“what you did last week…” you start, but your voice trails off into nothing soon after. he chuckles again.

“ah, that. i might have gotten ahead of myself.”

“was that all?” you press.

“and what would you do, if it wasn’t?”

“well — do you always like to play games?”

“i have a penchant for playing with my food before i eat it, if that answers your question.” he smiles down at your still-reddening face. “i was giving you a reward, as you wanted. i came up short on options then and there. you’ll let it slide this once, won’t you?”

“you did that just because i did well last week?”

“of course.”

“well, i did well today, too.”

“you did, and that’s why you have this.” he gestures to the chocolate bar in your hand.

“i don’t want this.” your voice is stubborn now, heated and frustrated, and you stuff the chocolate back into his hand. you must not like having to ask for something so blatantly — it’s too bad suguru wants to hear it in those exact words.

“tell me what you really want, then.”

you’re still unable to find the words, but your hands do the talking for you; they press into his shoulders and give you leverage to tiptoe until you’re just close enough to his lips. but you don’t close that gap, your mouth quivering only inches away from his, and oh, suguru wants to toy with you, but you’re just too irresistible this close to him. his warm palms press against your jaw, keeping your face steady as he closes the gap, and this time, he doesn’t just get a brief taste of you — suguru claims your lips with the thirst of a man who’s stumbled upon an oasis in the desert.

you must have thought about this moment long and hard over the weekend, because the nonchalant side of you that’s turned a blind eye to him is completely gone; he drinks in your soft noises and short, breathless gasps — all signs of your eagerness — until he’s drunk on the taste of you. the deeper the kiss gets, the less you can keep up, but you try, and suguru always likes rewarding your efforts, his wide tongue taut and flush against your tiny one in the sweet, warm cavern of your mouth. he licks every inch of it, leaves the mild nicotine taste of himself there, before he pulls away slowly. your eyes are still closed when he creates distance, fluttering open in a happy haze a few seconds later.

“good enough for you?” he murmurs, tucking a soft lock of hair behind your ear. you hum in assent through your dazed smile, and suguru knows he won’t be the only one looking forward to this coming wednesday.

you’d done really well today.

suguru’s proud of you — prouder than he’s been of most of his students in his career here at the university, actually. you’d finally answered a worksheet almost perfectly, save for a couple of numbers where you’d forgotten to round up, and those things are absolutely negligible at this point (by his books, anyway). you’ve been on your best behavior yet, avoiding all forms of complaint, and he knows fully well why, but he won’t criticize you for your hard work all the same, no matter the motivation behind it.

in fact, you’ve done so good that he doesn’t wait until he’s about to leave to give you your sweet reward — which is why, twenty minutes before he’s meant to go, he’s got you on your couch, your legs spread, each one hooked over his shoulders.

truth be told, you’d been good way before the lesson had started; you’d answered the door in a crop top and the tiniest pair of shorts you’ve dared to wear yet — all clothes that you couldn’t yet wear outside yet, given the weather. selfishly, suguru is thankful for this fact, and if he had to list down other things he’s thankful for, just off the top of his head, it’s that you no longer meet in the tutoring center and that your apartment’s walls seem thick and well-reinforced.

“senpai, don’t tease me.” your silly little whining voice makes its first appearance of the day, but all suguru does is smile — it’s an almost wicked expression, set firmly between your thighs. “you said i did really well today. don’t tell me you’re backing out on rewarding me?”

“not at all, sweetheart,” he hums, pressing a small kiss to your inner thigh. he likes seeing you shiver at the contact, likes the way you’re chewing on your lip in what appears to be slight agitation. “just thinking of how much of a reward you deserve.”

in all honesty, suguru would like to take every bit of you now; you’re already so ready for him, anyway. he can smell the faint perfume of your arousal, can see the way you’re anticipating the most from him, and a part of him doesn’t want to deny you of that. the larger part of him has dreamed of burying his cock into you, anyway, and why wouldn’t he do that? but something also tells him to wait — or, rather, to make you wait, to make you want him just a little more.

and so, he decides.

his mouth finds your skin again, pressing kisses up your thigh; they get wetter, hotter as his mouth moves up, until his nose and lips are buried against your clothed core. you squirm in response, but his grip on your thighs keeps you relatively steady, even as his tongue presses against thin fabric. the wet muscle pushes sharp against your tiny entrance, the tip meeting slight resistance against your shorts and panties, but he finds a way, burying half his tongue in alongside damp cloth.

you’re already wet like this, and so needy that it might be possible for suguru to get you off just like this, still clothed, but the hunger in him spikes once you call out to him.

“senpai, please…”

with a groan, his fingers yank the fabric aside, exposing your pussy to the warmth of his breathing. it’s as pink, as pretty, as tiny as the rest of you, as fuckable as he’d imagined it would be, and he wastes no time in pressing his tongue flat against your folds, dragging it up in a wide, messy stripe; the muscle only tenses when it bumps against your clit, his tongue flicking upwards to tease it.

you’re so reactive, even at the slightest things — you whimper, you squeeze your eyes shut, you squirm. you’re begging to be fucked, and suguru’s cock is strained tight against his jeans, but your taste is so addicting that he can’t help but dive back in. his tongue eases between your folds now, spreading them apart until they’re lewd and sticky with his saliva, and the nub of your clit has grown so pronounced now — so pert and lovely that he can’t help but purse his lips around it and suck with excess force.

“senpai — f—fuck,” you mewl; you almost sound tearful. “f—feels so good…”

suguru wants to tell you how fucking good you taste, how beautiful the sounds you’re making are, but his mouth is too busy; his teeth rake down your cunt lightly, earning him a jerk of your hips, and he has to place pressure down on your thighs again to make sure you’re still enough for him to slip his tongue into your cunt.

he can tell even just by that how tight you’d be around him; your walls are warm around his tongue, and there’s a pressure against the muscle that tells him how good it’d feel for his cock to take its place. as if to simulate his desires, he presses his tongue deeper in, fucks you shallowly with its wetness until your whimpers become little sobs, broken and choked back. his thumb drags across your slit then settles against your clit, and he can feel the thrum of your pulse against the pad of his finger, beckoning him. he complies, easily, thumb tracing circles around the nub that start off slow, only for him to ramp up the pace alongside his tongue.

you’re easily at fault for that; the way you whine for him, call him senpai, tell him how good it feels over and over — why wouldn’t he want more of you?

he’s not sure which of you really earns the sweet reward today; you cum on his tongue, your cunt trembling against his mouth and your fingers threaded into his hair, but he’s the one who comes out licking his lips like he’s had the best treat of his damn life.

come the middle of next week, suguru finds himself face to face with a test paper — one already clearly marked, with a number circled on the top-right corner. ninety. a stellar grade for anyone, and especially for you.

you know it, and you look absolutely triumphant; you’re practically shining as you perch on your little dining table, your perfectly manicured finger jabbing at the score in emphasis.

“flying colors, wouldn’t you say?”

“color me impressed,” suguru replies smoothly, a genuine smile of pride tugging at his lips; he turns the page over, scanning your responses. you still draw your parabolas a little on the small side, making them a bit difficult to discern, and you’ve still got the habit of not rounding your answers up, but this is tremendous work, and he’ll be the first to praise you for it. “your dad must be filled to the brim with joy now, right?”

“i haven’t told him yet. you were the first.”

“well, i’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

“proud enough to give me a reward?”

he looks down at you in feigned thoughtfulness. here you sit, back in your little tennis skirt, looking up at him with hopeful eyes under those long, curled lashes. for someone who spent the first half of this semester acting ostensibly nonchalant, you’d very easily shown your true colors soon after — not that he really minds. in fact, he’s taken a decided kind of liking to how eager and willing you’ve come to be.

“we’ve only just started our session, though,” he hums out, an idle thumb grazing his chin as he watches your expression turn from bright to cloudy, the beginnings of strategy darkening your gaze. it’s not like he wants to say no; he has no real intention to. but seeing you squirm in want makes him feel good about his decision to hold out a little longer — never mind the ache in his cock even then. “don’t we usually leave the rewards for a later time?”

“i was thinking — since it’s the start of a new lesson —”

“we wouldn’t want you falling behind from the start, would we?”

“i promise i won’t,” you pout. “i promise i’ll put in my best effort next time.”

“next time? sweetheart, don’t tell me you’re thinking to get off scot-free today…” suguru trails off, his hand falling to the nearest surface it can reach — which, logic seems to dictate, is your soft, milky thigh. he feels you tense under his palm, and he bites back a smile, keeping his expression level. “i just don’t know.”

your small hands grip at the front of his shirt, and he hears you, for the first time, doing something he’s always wanted to hear you do.

“please, senpai?”

how could he say no to you? he hadn’t really planned on it, had only wanted to see you do this, but it’s still too much and beyond his expectation — your misty gaze, your quivering lip. it’s almost laughable that you don’t think he’d notice the way you shift yourself so that his hand, still warm against your thigh, slides up your skin, the hem of your skirt bunched up in the junction between his thumb and forefinger.

suguru chuckles — isn’t this exactly where and how he’s always wanted you? “how could you ask me like that and expect me to refuse, angel? in that case, i have no real choice but to dedicate all our time today to your reward.”

your breathing hitches — in anticipation, in desire, in excitement — as his hand continues its trail upward, deliberately now, fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties. his head dips down, rests into the crook of your neck, and he inhales the thick, sweet scent of your perfume, your shampoo, of you and all that he’ll take from you.

“just remember, you asked for this,” he murmurs against your skin. “so i’m going to take every bit of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else.”

you’re so willing, so ready even before he can get his full bearings; your hips are rising slightly off the table, and suguru feels like it’s you that’s telling him to move faster. he tugs down your panties, letting gravity take its course until they’re a tiny puddle of fabric on the floor, and he slots himself between your legs. like this, you have no choice but to spread, and you do so without hesitation, your knees locking against his sides as he pulls you in for a tight, hungry kiss. there’s that taste of you he loves, that clean, sweet buzz that draws him in, and his hands are bruisingly tight on your waist as he reclaims your lips.

you already look dazed when he pulls away, which is always cute, but a little unfair — suguru wants you to be aware still when he takes you, and damn, if he doesn’t want to take you right fucking now. he kisses you again, harder and more demanding, as if willing your attention back to him, while his hands explore you — run up your thighs, fingers brushing against the plush curve of your ass. it’s not enough, not by a long shot, and he’s pushing the waistline of your skirt up your stomach with his hands, letting his warmth transfer onto your skin; he chuckles as your stomach sucks inward at his touch, just as you let out a gasp against his lips.

and he wants desperately to hear that noise again; in fact, he wants to know what you sound like in every capacity. his mouth works down your neck, pleased to find that suckling wet and languid on a spot just above your collarbone has you writhing and whimpering. are you sensitive or touch-starved? whatever the reason, he wants to draw all of that out of you, his hands drawing back down to hook under your thighs. suguru drags you to the edge of the table, until your bare cunt is flush against the front of his jeans, and he lets you feel him — a brief tease of what’s to come.

“i’m s—so wet already,” you whisper, as if he doesn’t know — as if you know it’s exactly what he wants to hear anyway. “senpai, please, i need you.”

“not that,” he murmurs, his teeth grazing your collarbone as he speaks. “not senpai. suguru. call me suguru, angel.”

“s—suguru,” you exhale shakily, and it’s music to his ears — as if the last thing holding him back from you had shattered.

“that’s it — what a good girl,” he purrs, his hips rocking forward against your pussy before they retract, leaving just enough space for his hand to slip between. slender fingers trail down your folds, sticky and slick. “you are all wet for me, aren’t you? ready to take me deep inside?”

even the way you nod, a tiny movement of assent, drives him wild, yet a part of him still wants to test the limit of your patience, his middle finger stretching to circle your entrance.

“wouldn’t want to shock your tiny little pussy, though, would i? will you let me stretch you out first, kitten?”

“yes,” you mewl, sounding almost tearful. “anything— anything, please.”

suguru drinks in the long, drawn-out keen you set free when his digit sinks into you; he’s already felt your walls against his tongue, but a small part of him is still surprised at just how tight you are. that same part nags that he might not fit easily into you, but whatever that voice is is easily drowned out by a more assertive promise — he’ll make it fit.

“can’t tell you how much i’ve wanted to feel your pretty little hole around my cock,” he presses on, his finger pushing deeper in; he feels you tense a delicious kind of tightness, as if it’s almost too much for you. is it? “ever since that first day you came into the tutoring center, dressed up all cute — did you do that on purpose, sweetheart?”

“yes,” you admit, breathless; the syllable is lengthened into a weak moan as suguru pumps his finger into you, slow, deep strokes that tease your tacky walls open. “wanted — wanted to make a good impression…”

“and you did, didn’t you? kept looking so sweet for me, so pretty every single time — got me thinking about all the ways i wanted to have you. got me so fucking hard every time we’d meet — is that what you wanted?”

suguru doesn’t give you much room to respond, but he can make his own answers to appease himself anyway; he reclaims your lips, already eager for another taste of you, and you comply with the same amount of desire, your soft whimpers melting against his teeth. in the space of pseudo silence, wet, messy noises, he manages to tease another digit into you, and you cry out against his lips as it pushes in, joining the first in how deep it reaches. he absorbs that too, takes in every minute sound you make, relishes the way you pulse around his fingers. even without the noises, he can tell your pleasure’s heightening, with the way you clench around him, your hips rocking pitifully as you’re eager to rut against his palm.

“look at you now.” he’s selfish, but he doesn’t care — he wants to ruin you, and if the telltale squelch of your cunt as he fucks his fingers into it isn’t indication enough, then the way your mouth hangs open as he pulls away, letting his name fall freely from your lips, definitely is. “legs spread, all desperate to feel good for me. what a needy little kitten you are. this good enough for you, angel?”

you shake your head, only to squeal as he pulls you closer, his fingers shoving deeper into you; your hips are re-angled, allowing him to brush the pads of his digits against the rough, sweet spot, and he feels triumph bloom in his chest as you throw your head back, teary eyes squeezed shut.

“no, no, no,” you babble, and he can see the bob of your throat as you swallow hard, clutching at sense to make words. “want — need your cock, want to cum on your cock so badly, suguru — want you to fuck me, stretch me open, please —”

“greedy, aren’t you?” he murmurs, leaning in to nip at the spot he’d left reddened above your collarbone. “go on then — show me how much you want it. show me what a good girl you are, and cum on my fingers.”

“but—”

“come on, angel,” he urges above the squelching noises, increasing surely in volume. his fingers meet resistance when they spread apart inside you, but all it does is create a delicious friction that has you squirming in his hold. “don’t hold back. let me see you fall apart.”

and you do, so prettily, your eyes rolling back and your voice unrestrained. suguru’s fingers ride you through your orgasm, pumping deep and steady despite how slick you’ve gotten, your juices coating his hand and wrist. he watches the flush rise to your neck, stopping at your cheeks, watches the heaving of your chest, the shine of your skin from a thin sheen of sweat, and he doesn’t want to let you come down from this high, but his cock is aching — practically bursting from his jeans — and all he can do is make the silent vow that the next time you look like this, he’ll be balls deep in you.

“that’s my girl,” he coos gently, watching the tension slip from your shoulders; his free hand is at the small of your back quickly, easing you down as your torso falls back, and you’re laying on the table. “pretty little thing, aren’t you? cumming so sweetly for me.”

“suguru,” you groan out weakly, your tiny hand clasping around his wrist. “cock — i want your cock, please—”

“can’t wait?” he’s indecent for sounding amused, but even that does nothing to stay his arousal; how eager you are simply makes him want you all the more. “okay, angel — since you asked so nicely.”

a slight twinge of disappointment runs through him as he pulls his fingers out, but it’s quickly buried by the feeling he gets once he gives you a clear sweep of a once-over; how slutty you look, still half-dressed but already half-ruined, your thighs shaking in an effort to keep them open for him, the remnants of your last climax still leaking out of your hole. the sight of you has him so distracted that unbuttoning and unzipping his pants feels like a fever dream of an act; he barely notices what he’s doing until he’s already bare in front of you, and alertness has crawled halfway back into your consciousness as you push yourself up on your elbows to look at him.

“it’s so—” you have the decency to blush, though there’s a pleased look on your face that tells him you’re not really embarrassed. “i didn’t think you’d be this big.”

“does that worry you?”

“i’ve never had anyone… this big.” pride blooms in his chest — good, he thinks, because if he can’t be as memorable as your first, then he’ll take being the most in something as a prize. “i don’t think — will it fit?”

“does it matter?” he chuckles, and your blush deepens. “no matter what — you’ll take all of me in, won’t you?”

you chew on your bottom lip, as if considering your options, but to suguru, there’s really only one choice — the correct one, and you make it when you nod your head.

“it’ll feel good, though, you know,” he muses. his hand wrapped around his base, he lines himself up with you, the tip grazing against your folds. “even better than just now.”

with just a little more pressure, he has his shaft flush against you; his girth sits against your slit, the tip pressed against your clit, and he starts to rock his hips — into his fist, against your cunt. your hips quiver, and a shiver runs through you as your pleasure spikes again, but he can tell it isn’t enough. your bottom lip is back between your teeth, and your eyes are flitting between his face and his cock. suguru reaches out, eases your lip out from between your teeth, strokes it gently, almost tenderly.

“say it,” he commands in a soft, silky voice.

“fuck me, suguru,” you breathe out, barely missing a beat. “fuck me, fuck my pussy, please.”

and if you ask that desperately, he’ll waste no time; he draws his hips back, dragging his cock down until he’s aligned with your entrance. his eyes are trained on your face, even when he pushes in, so that he can take in your expression — the widening of your eyes as his tip breaches the first wave of resistance, the way your mouth falls agape as his fingers dig hard into your flesh. he’s never seen a prettier sight in his life.

“stretched you out already, but you’re still so fucking tight,” his voice is a soft, melodious croon, a stark contrast to the way he’s forcing past your tightness. “tight and wet, like a good girl.”

“so big,” you whimper, your fingers stretched far enough to tickle the front of his shirt. “can’t — can’t take it.”

“of course you can, angel.” suguru doesn’t give you the time to brace yourself fully before he’s rocking his hips in a little more sharply, his cock now halfway into you. your fingers curl into a little fist, immediately flying back to block the noise from your mouth. “ah ah. don’t get shy on me now; you’ve been so noisy for me all this time.”

but he doesn’t really mind the way you clap your palm over your mouth to muffle your high-pitched squeal as he thrusts in fully, the adjustment period after the last movement close to nothing; he’s too busy focusing on how good you feel around him, how warm and wet your insides are. this is heaven, easily, and suguru wants to stay here for as long as he can.

“god, you’re fucking tight,” he repeats, an appreciatory gaze running over where you’re joined. his thumb stretches over your folds, rubbing them — something of an apology, perhaps, although all it does is stimulate you more, and you shiver at the extra contact. “how deep is it, baby?”

“can feel you here,” you mumble out, your small hand pressing just above your pelvis. he feels the tightness multiply as you place pressure, even just for a moment. “your cock’s so much deeper than anyone else.”

your hand falls away, limp, as he draws his hips back; you inhale, long and deep, before letting it out as a broken moan when he pushes back in. it drives him crazy, to start off this slow, when all he wants is to find a pace that has you sobbing, but the resistance of your pussy against his length isn’t easy to ignore. suguru works you open, his jaw set and his grip tight against your frame, and it isn’t long before he’s picking up speed, the slap of his flesh against yours fueling him exponentially, mingling with your cries, steadily increasing in volume.

“that’s it. let everyone hear you,” he eggs on, his thumb now circling tight around your clit; your legs are quivering, threatening to close, but he keeps you steady, one arm wrapped around your thigh. his thrusts grow rougher, more deliberate, and when he looks up from where you’re joined back to your face, he sees your expression as a mixture of incredulity and ecstasy. a thin line of drool hangs from the corner of your mouth, your pretty pink lip gloss smeared, and fuck if he doesn’t want to make sure you look like this every single time he comes over. “let them know who’s fucking you good, angel.”

“su— suguru!” your voice hitches, lilts up as he presses in at a different, deeper angle, and he almost cums right then and there from the way your walls pulse around him. “your cock feels so good, fucking me just right— more, god, more—”

he complies without hesitation, gathering both your thighs and pushing them closer to your chest; you look even lewder like this, folded in half with your sopping cunt presented to him like it’s all his to take, and it is, isn’t it? there’s an increase in the intensity, the vigor in which he pumps his cock into you, and he knows he’s brushing repeatedly against your spot by the way you’re blubbering his name out in a way that suggests you sincerely think no one else in this building can hear you.

“that’s my girl,” he hums approvingly, though there’s a thickness in his voice that has him sounding a little more strained. “such a good girl, with your cunt all nice and sloppy for me. do you like it when i go this deep? does it feel good when i fuck you where no one else can?”

“yes!” you sob out, your hands crumpling the end of your skirt up into tight fists. “suguru, i— cum, i need to cum again, please—”

“i’ve got you, kitten,” his tone is reassuring, a stark contrast to the rigor of his hips. “don’t have to hang on for me, you know; always love seeing you fall apart.”

“m’close, so close, closecloseclose—”

“let go, then,” he urges, his blunt nails digging into your flesh. “let me feel that sweet cunt cum on my cock.”

you comply without hesitation, though if you’d done it willingly, he can’t really tell; he has to pin your hips down to stop you from bucking up and causing him to slip out, and you writhe against him as you sob in ecstasy, your walls fluttering before they clench. stray tears leak from your eyes, squeezed shut, and suguru wants nothing more than to eat you up like this — broken, fucked out.

you’re not even fully down from your high when he feels it — that sudden wrenching in his gut that tells him he’s about to follow suit. with a low groan, he peels your thighs apart again, lets you watch him as he bullies straight into your leaking hole. your voice is a staccato, punctuating every deep, sharp thrust into you, and it’s exactly to that melody that he wants to get off.

“tell me where you want it, angel.” he doesn’t trust his voice, sharp and short as it is now. “should i mark your pretty face? your stomach?”

“want it against my pussy,” you whisper out, and suguru almost loses his mind as he watches you spread your folds apart with your forefinger and middle finger, inviting him. “make a mess of it, senpai.”

he’s barely able to pull out before he’s spilling against you; he ruts against your slit, coating your folds and the insides of your thighs in thick, creamy white. you hold your legs apart for as long as you can until they start to tremble, and he catches them and gently eases them down.

when you sit up to kiss him, you’re still demanding; he feels your hips rock closer, your sticky cunt pressing against the underside of his cock.

“not enough,” you murmur against his lips, and suguru chuckles as you bind your hands around his neck.

“don’t worry, kitten,” he hums back. “we’ve got all afternoon.”

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #suguru geto x reader #jujutsu kaisen #geto smut #geto x you #geto x y/n #jjk smut #jjk x you #suguru geto x you #suguru x reader #suguru x you #getou suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru x you #getou suguru x you

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gabessquishytum · 4 months

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Hob is happy serving up good food and feeding people comfort food from his truck -- he's not looking to be famous; Dream is a Michelin star judge who stumbles upon his truck and loves his food.

Dream is used to liking small portion tasting menus with ingredients sourced from yurts or dug up during an irregular moon cycle. Comfort food that "sticks to your bones" is not what Dream eats, even when he needs comfort!

Dream stumbles on this food truck when he gets lost looking for his car after having a forgettable meal at the hot new speakeasy concept that recently opened.

Eating/tasting is a job and Dream is so tired of his function. So when he hears music and people having fun, Dream figures he can at least ask someone where he is and/or get his bearings. What he see when he rounds the corner are people queued up at a funky painted food truck -- laughing, joking?! with someone who is making his food safety hair net look good, and happily eating. The smell hits Dream in the face -- it's so good.

When Dream makes it to the counter, he forgets that he needs directions, hot chef hairnet, is so pretty - engaging smile, the stereotypical tattoos on his forearms, soft doe eyes -- Dream is momentarily speechless. When the chef ask him what he wants, Dream says surprise me (the same Dream who always has a plan when he's eating for his job); he gets a roguish smile and a wink,,,,, and falls a little in love.

Then he tries the food he's handed falls all the way in love.

Oh, this hit me right in the soft spot!! Absolutely love it.

I can so imagine Dream being used to those nouveau cuisine dishes where you get like, a sliver of horseradish, one grain of rice and a sauce made from gold leaf. He thinks that he likes it, that he's reasonably content. But he's never looked at one of those kind of plates and smiled. Not the way he's smiling at the loaded paper plate Hot Hair Net chef just gave him.

He sits a little way from the truck and eats, slowly, carefully. There's pilau rice, delicious curry, veggies that are clearly fresh. Its warm and filling, and Dream can't quite finish it all. But he's still smiling.

And he still doesn't know where his car is. So he goes to the counter again. The gorgeous chef seems to be packing up for the day and he positively beams at Dream. "Back already? I was hoping I'd get a chance to feed you up, but I didn't think it'd be so soon."

Dream blushes and asks for directions, and Hob says that if Dream can wait a minute, he'll walk there with him. His car is over that way too. While Hob packs up, Dream dares to ask about his ingredients, and Hob absolutely lights up while he talks about where he sources his fresh stuff, how much he values his suppliers, and how excited he is to keep building his business. He's got dreams of a restaurant someday, although he dearly loves his truck - maybe he'll do both!

By the time Hob helps him find his car, Dream is absolutely ready to give his heart and soul over on a paper plate. There are spices zinging on his tongue, and Hob has taken off his hair net to reveal an adorable, sexy little man-bun. He's got measuring spoon tattoos on his hands. Dream wants him.

He's back the next day. And the next. He's driving out of his way to get to Hob. Nothing else tastes good. And when he finally, shyly asks if Hob would like to come over for dinner sometime, Hob lights up. "It's about time you cooked for me! I'd love it. And... I'll bring dessert."

When Hob winks at Dream this time, he follows it up with a kiss on the cheek. And Dream’s not hungry anymore. He's just thirsty 😉

#the sandman #dreamling #cw food

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diejager · 5 months

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How would each of the monster 141 react if hunter were like- straight up killed in front of them. Like no wiggle room “oh they might be alive and just unconscious” but just straight up dead. Sorry I am a sucker for angst and I feel like this would be a fantastic read considering how bonded and feral they all are to protect hunter. Thanks in advance! Love the blog! Keep it up 👍

Are you trying to get me killed? Do you want me to have a heartattack?

End of the line Cw: death, suicidal thoughts, angst, mention of suicide, blood, injury, tell me if I missed any.

It had been a mistake, a costly one, but still a mistake. In that moment, everything had lost its point, the mission, the goal, the enemy and the celebration were pointless, forgettable. Time slowed, lagging behind in minutes when the shot rang out, booming in your restless minds until all they could hear was a loud thump, a body slumping down.

It was a rookie mistake made by their eagerness to return home, bodies bruised from the last deployment and still sore, skin painted in black and purple, but you pushed on, being sent from one end of the planet to the other. They were hanging on a thin thread of perseverance and training, practiced to live on perpetual soreness and exhaustion.

But that didn’t ease the pain, the open wound in their hearts. They watched you slump over, blood pooling from the wound in your chest —shot center mass. They dropped everything, Rudy rushing to turn you over, hands shaky and eyes blurry, he choked down a sob and a tear slid down his cheek. You were unresponsive, eyes glazed and dull, the light that they all loved gone in a breath. You upper torso bled, a bullet pierced through your kevlar vest, the bullet’s calibre higher than anything they expected.

Ghost joined Rudy, desperate to see if there were a chance to resuscitate you, to bring you back to them. His hands were frantic, tremors wracking his whole body as he loomed forward, trying to find a pulse, hand pressing against your still warm throat. He felt his fears surging forward, the dark voice at the back of his mind grinding out words, terrors that followed him at every step. It was like the last Christmas, when Tommy and Beth died, when Joseph and his mom were shot, when the people he cared for were killed.

Ghost felt his voice leave him, croaky and dying, it made him unable to utter a single word, and so was Rudy, mind blank. So Alejandro was the one to tell the verdict, but they hadn’t needed him to tell them to know. Soap, König and Horangi heard your heart stop, the powerful muscle in your chest explode from the bullet and grow silent. The pain clawed at their hearts, the overbearing weight on their chest made their retreat harder.

However much Price wanted to cry, to fall to his knees as cradle your body against his chest, he was the TF’s leader, he had to bring the rest of them back home. He ordered Gaz back from his perch for the sniper after he dealt with it, Gaz’s advanced sight catching the glint of the scope. Holding the title of a Task Force’s captain meant a lot, it placed a certain amount of responsibility on his shoulder and he couldn’t let his men down. Price could let a few tears slip, but he had to hold it in until he had a moment to himself in the silence of his office.

Gaz was silent during and afterwards, watching your limp body being carried in König’s arms until you reached the aircraft piloted by Nikolai who shared an equally heartbroken and saddened expression as them. His voice died with you, unable to voice his mind or his sorrows, confining himself to his room in silence. Although he lost himself, he had the others to bring him back like you did when Ghost wandered too deeply into his mind, bringing back up memories.

Soap did what he knew best, throwing himself into the fray, overworking himself with solo mission and spearheading other joint work. He almost worked himself to the bone until Horangi pulled him back, scuffing him and beating your wishes into his mind, telling him that you wouldn’t want them to break away like this, to wither away as if they were never here.

Despite helping Soap, Horangi suffered the same as the werewolf did, silently crying himself to sleep, fingers clawing at his head in desperation to quiet down the loud screeches in his mind, degrading words thrown at himself for failing you. He knew you didn’t want him to hate himself, but how could he quell the bleeding wound in his heart when you weren’t here to ease the pain away? The memory of you did.

Alejandro tried his best, acting and trying to feel better until it ultimately failed, he wasn’t in the right place to see you nor talk about you to others, murmuring your name when he slept and woke up with a start. He wasn’t as lost as Ghost was, didn’t shut the world around him down and closed in on himself, but he was following closely behind if he didn’t have the Task Force.

Rudy was the most human out of them, he felt more strongly but couldn’t cry. His mind was blank, the beat in his chest loud and erratic, yet his mind was silent, a ground of deathly quiet. He couldn’t do anything, work became hard, waking up exhausting, and taking care of himself harrowingly difficult. You’d scold him if you saw how he was behaving, how little care he had for himself —to near hunger and insanity. He hung onto your words, your confession, the three words you gave them as a parting gift, that’s what forced him out of his shell.

While the rest worked through their pain, to reach a stalemate together, none fell as hard as Ghost and König, both having a difficult childhood and a harder time following their enlistment. The lost themselves easily, becoming much more violent and deranged in their kills, ripping men in half and swallowing them whole, leaving all but a puddle of blood behind. The only thing that stopped them from ending their pain, to reaching out towards the knife that hung on the side of their thighs were your words, the handwritten words on your will and a message for everyone.

You wanted them to live, to be happy without you being there and that you’d be waiting for them on the other side until eternity. You were patient after all. At least a part of you hung from their necks, your ashes shared between the eight men and your items spread equally.

“I love you.”

Tag list: @craxy-person @crowbird @dead-cipher @iwannabealocalcryptid @iizx7y @mxtokko @yeetusspagheetus @capricorn-anon @perfectus-in-morte @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @konigsblog @havoc973 @angelcakes-22 @cassiecasluciluce @ramadiiiisme @ramblingsofachaoticthinker @ki-cant-spel

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jksprincess10 · 10 months

Text

Fix it || Din Djarin x reader

Summary: Your mandalorian asks you to clean his suit. Reader is someone who fixes anything and is nicknamed “Fix” in this. No physical description is given. (3k words)

CW: maskless!din with face reveal, tattooed!din, petnames (mesh’la) pwp, breeding kink, oral (f and mreceiving), fingering, manhandling, praise, lots of fluff (they’re kinda in love with each other ok)

A/N: This takes place after s2. Din still has the razor quest and hasn’t been redeemed yet.

Masterlist

Part 2

Life on Nevarro was mostly quiet for you. You had made a name for yourself as the local smith and the person who could pretty much fix any piece of weapon and armor. You were living in a tiny grey stone house, the bottom of it was your workshop and the top floor was your little nook; a tiny apartment big enough just for yourself. Your workshop had accumulated tons of foreign materials, dust, tools you had inherited from your deceased father and dirt. So much dirt. No matter how many times you cleaned the workshop, it became dirty again in seconds. Your work wasn’t the most delicate. But you liked this life.

You often met adventurers and people from the Guild; they all came and went as the moon cycles went on. They were mostly all forgettable, a mass of young people looking for a thrill and a good kill. But there was one… who stepped in your workshop a few times. And this one, you couldn’t forget about.

You finished wiping clean the chest plate you had fixed for a client when you heard the bell ring, triggered by the quick opening of the door. Your turned around and wiped your hands on your leather apron, stopping in your tracks when you saw him. The one you couldn’t forget about.

He was still broad; shoulders the size of a door, and still masked. His usual shining armor was… dulled by a substance you couldn’t quite identify. He was here. Your Mandalorian.

“Well, well, didn’t expect you so soon.” You teased, even though you were pleased by his presence.

With a heavy thump, the Mandalorian sat on the worn chair destined for your clients. You approached slowly to examine his armor.

“I found myself in a… sticky situation.” You could sense the grimace he was making under the intimidating visor. Your fingers barely touched his shoulder pads, and you discovered a slimy, neon-green substance.

“Gross.” You grimaced as you wiped your hand on your apron.

“I know this might not be part of your usual services, but do you have anything to clean the beskar? Your price is mine, Fix.” Fix was your little nickname, everyone called you like that. Not many people knew your actual name, and you were okay with it.

Mando always offered credits, but you rarely made him pay. He would always find a way to sneak more than enough credits on your stone table before he left. Last time… he even took you out to diner, well, he didn’t eat, because he couldn’t take off the helmet, he just looked at you while you engulfed what he bought you. And you had finished the night on his ship, making yourself cum again and again on his thigh as he never took off anything. He simply encouraged you, clothed hands touching every part of you that was accessible to him. That night felt like a fever dream that you couldn’t forget. You felt your cheeks heating up at the memory, and you fiddled with the large pockets of your apron.

“I do. I might have every cleaning product for every metal in the galaxy.” You smiled. You inspected his armor closely. It seemed like it was even sticky under, on his flight suit. And his helmet… you didn’t know how he could even see. “But I have… bad news.” You looked at him up and down. “I think I might have to clean… everything. It seems to be sticky everywhere. I know it’s not… ideal, but you will have to take off the whole thing, I’m afraid. Do you have a change of clothes and helmet?”

You saw how tense his shoulders got. “I don’t. Is there… any other way?”

“I’m afraid not, Mando. Can’t clean it good enough if it’s on your body. It will most likely need to soak for a while.” You went to the door and turned the sign to “closed” and locked the door. “No one will see you here. You can trust me.”

You heard a modulated groan. “Fine. Turn around.” You did, and tightly closed your eyes. You heard the shuffle of fabric, the heavy sound of beskar meeting the ground. Finally, a hissing sound. In your time having him as a client, you didn’t even dare try to imagine what he looked like under his armor. Even when you two were intimate. But there he was, so close, flesh unveiled. You pushed the thought away.

“There. Everything is on your table.” Hearing his real voice set a fire in your stomach. It was just as deep, but more… human. He felt so… real.

You took a big breath in. Out. And opened your eyes, facing the table. Tense, you took a few steps to your table and got to work. You let the suit soak first in a small basin you always filled with water in case something needed cleaning. Even touching the fabric felt inappropriate, too intimate.

“Isn’t it taboo… taking off your helmet, Mando?”

“It is… prohibited. But I am already deep in sin and on the way to redemption.”

“I see.” You took a can of product, shook it, and sprayed a generous amount on the chest plate. “Where’s the little green munchkin?” You asked as you rubbed the metal vigorously, dissolving some of the sticky substance.

“He is… away.” You heard the sadness in his voice, so you didn’t ask more questions.

“It seems to be coming off.” You said. “But it might take a while.” The beskar was already shinier and more reflective. Through the metal, you could see the hint of silhouette; tan, scarred skin, decorated by dark tattoos. “Fuck.” You pushed the armor piece away, which fell heavily to the ground, and closed your eyes. You felt a mixture of guilt and arousal in your gut.

You heard him get up; step closer.

“Is everything okay, Fix?”

“Y-Yes! You might… be more comfortable upstairs. Make yourself at home. I will call you when it’s ready and I’ll get out so you can put your clothes back on.”

The Mandalorian agreed quietly and took the stairs to your living space. When he was out of the way, you sat down for a few seconds, breathing heavily. You saw what you shouldn’t have seen. When your breathing got back to normal, you got back to work.

You scrubbed all the armor pieces until your hands hurt. You washed the heavy fabric of his suit and set it to dry under your industrial fan. Outside your door, you could see that the sun had already set. But Mando never bothered you once. He was probably used to long, quiet days on his ship.

You washed your hands thoroughly from the slimy liquid and wiped away the sweat from your forehead.

“Mando, it’s almost dry.” You shouted from downstairs. “But… before you get down here, I have… to tell you something.”

“Did you break something, Fix?”

“I didn’t.”

“Good.”

“But… I saw your reflection, earlier.”

Silence for a few seconds, then you heard him come down. You immediately closed your eyes.

“Mando, I’m still down here!” You protested. You were going to make a run for it, but you felt warm hands holding your wrists. “I’m sorry I’ll – I’ll gauge my eyes out. I… barely saw anything.”

“Open your eyes, mesh’la.”

“But – ”

“Open them. Remember what I said? I’m already deep in sin.” He said firmly.

Your eyes fluttered open and your irises adjusted to the darkness. The man was only wearing his dark underwear, he was completely vulnerable under your gaze. You took all of him in, as he waited nervously. You didn’t think you’d see a warrior like him get nervous under your gaze. Maybe he always was, and his armor hid it. You admired his strong legs. His generous groin. The scars on his stomach. His broad chest, marked by dark tattoos. His strong arms equally marked. His throat hinting at his nervousness. His jaw, dressed in a scratchy, dark beard. Plush, inviting lips under a mustache. A prominent nose.

“Say something.” He pleaded.

Your eyes met his, big, brown, and almost teary. He had dark, wild curls. You took his cheeks between your hands, feeling the warm flesh under your fingers. He was so… real.

“You’re handsome, Mando.”

He let out a sigh of relief.

“Din. Call me Din, please.”

“Come here, Din.” You smirked and pulled him impossibly closer, wrapping your legs around his middle. Strong arms helped pulling you up, hands holding your ass. You whispered your real name in the shell of his ear, and he smiled, letting your beautiful name rest on his tongue. A secret for another. You saw his physical restraint and hesitation for a few seconds, until he let go. Plush lips met yours with extreme caution, like he hadn’t done this in a long time. And truth be told – he hadn’t, since he was a little boy. Every time he had intimacy, it was with the barrier of a helmet and partial clothing. Your hands kept him close. Din trapped you against the nearest wall, and you moaned in his lips, deepening the kiss. Butterflies were flying in your belly, making you want and love.

Clumsy hands undid your apron, and it fell to the ground. You both gasped for air, but your lips couldn’t leave him for long, and you kissed every parcel of flesh available to you. Your feet met the floor momentarily so you could undress to his level; overalls and shirt gone. He took in the beautiful, clear vision of your body, one he could see without the constant darkness of the visor.

“Gorgeous, mesh’la…” He breathed.

You felt your cheeks heating up. Your hands guided his, placing them over your breasts, which he caressed with feather-like touches.

“You won’t break me.” You said softly. “Don’t be scared, Din.”

He squeezed the flesh lightly, before he undid your bra. You slid the clothing off your arms. He pulled you back up in his arms, and you squealed in surprise when his face disappeared in your breasts.

“I want to taste every centimeter of skin.�� There was this undertone of urgency, he knew your time was limited. He knew the sins couldn’t last forever. He took one of your raised nipples between his lips, sucking and nipping at it softly. Your hands found purchase in his curls, holding him close.

“Please, please, please…” You didn’t really know what you were asking for, but you wanted everything he could give. His lips let go of your raised buds, sliding up until he found your throat, where he left gentle kisses. With one hand, he got rid of your underwear. His fingers took place between your bodies. He slid two fingers across your slit, just feeling around. His index and middle fingers circled your clit, making you moan under the sudden spark of pleasure you felt. Your head went limp against the wall, mouth agape. His circles were tight, fast, until you squeezed your legs more in a silent orgasm.

Suddenly, he moved again, and your back met the cold stone surface of your worktable. Your legs laid on his broad shoulders while he kneeled, and he parted your folds with his fingers. He kissed your clit gently, before teasing it with the tip of his tongue. His hands squeezed the soft flesh of your thighs while his tongue got lost in your sweet essence.

“How did I live so long without tasting you, mesh’la…”

How did you live so long without him tasting you?

Your moans got simply louder as he circled his tongue expertly.

“Don’t stop, Din, I’m – ah, I’m so close.”

His name on your tongue was a symphony to his ears, and it only encouraged him. His moves got faster, until your thigh tried to close around his head, but his big hands were holding them open for him. You cried loudly as he lapped at your gushing juices.

“You did so good for me.” He praised in a raspy voice.

Din watched as your stomach raised and fell in labored breaths. Finally, you straightened up and slid down his boxers, salivating at the sight of his muscled thighs and raised cock.

“Wanna taste you, please.” You begged.

You got down from your table as he took off his boxers completely, and immediately met the ground with your knees. Maybe sitting naked in your workshop wasn’t the smartest move, but you didn’t care in the moment. Mando held on to the nearest wall as you greedily took all of him in your mouth, eager to taste him.

“Kriff, mesh’la, slow down…” His fingers tugged on your hair, and you let his cock fall out of your mouth completely, before licking up a stripe on his member. You watched as the strong warrior whimpered and closed his eyes. Slowly, you took the head between your lips and sucked softly. He bucked his hips up uncontrollably, pushing himself further in your mouth. You swallowed around him and bobbed your head up and down in a regular pace. You didn’t expect Din to be so… loud, but you appreciated hearing his moans without the modulator. He let you control him, until he pushed you away, out of breath.

“Am I not doing a good job?” You asked innocently.

“Stars, yes, you are. I wanna make love to you, come here.” His hands grabbed you and he pulled you back up. You wrapped your legs around him as he switched your positions, making your back rest against the cold wall.

He aligned his length with your hole, pushing slowly until he buried himself completely in you. You hadn’t felt a man like this in so long – and it was a stretch, but you it became pleasant after a few seconds, when your walls molded to him. He looked down at you, sparkling brown irises and smile on his lips.

“You’re taking me so well. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?” He asked.

“Hmhm. But I wanted this for so long, Din…”

Din’s lips latched onto yours, in a delicate and slow kiss. While you were distracted with his tongue, he started moving his hips slowly.

“How long, mesh’la?” He asked as his head rested on your shoulder and he thrusted deeply. You moaned and wrapped your arms around him, scared of falling.

“Ever since… you first came here to fix your… old armor…”

“Why didn’t you ask before?”

“Thought it was… prohibited.”

As if he was punishing you, he went faster and deeper.

“There are… ways around it.”

His hands grabbed your hips firmly as he fucked you dumb, the sounds of your skin clapping together filling the room. Without any warning, you tightened around him and it sent him over the edge. He cursed as he shot ropes of his cum in your cunt.

Both out of breath, he let you down and watched as his spend trailed down your thighs.

“I’ll…. Go wash up. Come upstairs with me?”

He agreed and followed you up the stairs. You took a few minutes for yourself in the bathroom; washing down there and convincing yourself that it wasn’t a dream.

Another confirmation was when you came out of the restroom to your bedroom and saw Din laying naturally on your bed, like he had always been there. He looked so pretty like this, in the low light coming through your window. Skin painted gold, some of it scarred with symbols. You laid beside him on your bed, your head laying on his broad chest. It would probably be the last time you would feel the warmth of his flesh.

“When are you doing your… redemption?” You asked as your finger traced some of his tattoos.

“As soon as possible. Why?”

Sadness suddenly filled your being.

“So… this is the last time I can have you like this?” You lifted your chin to look at him. He frowned when he saw the tears forming in your eyes.

“Unless… you become my riduur.”

“Your… wife?”

“There is time, mesh’la. I will keep breaking things and bringing them to you. You can have me in other ways, like before.”

“I’ll… miss your face. But I know the Creed matters to you.” You smiled and caressed his cheek. “I will consider the other option, though.”

“Let’s make the most of it, then.”

Din rolled over you with a wicked smile, trapping your body between the bed and him. You squealed when he bit affectionately the skin of your neck. You looked down and saw that he was already half hard. You caressed him lazily to help with the situation as your lips found his in a soft kiss.

“Oh, by the way… I have an implant, if that matters.” You whispered against his mouth as you pushed him away slightly.

“Perfect. Although….” He caressed your stomach. “I wouldn’t mind fucking a baby into you, mesh’la.”

His words made your cheeks heat up, which made him smile widely. His hand caressed your cheek while he whispered. “Do you wanna… go again?”

“Yes.” You wrapped your legs around around his middle, his hips taking place between your thighs. He pumped his member a few times, before inserting in between your tight walls. His eyes weren’t leaving your face; he wanted to keep a photograph of your blissed face in his mind. You looked at him too, even though you were tired, registering every crinkle, every hair, every pore on his face. Din fucked you slowly, his body close to yours and his lips almost never leaving you. You memorized his scent, his voice.

Moments later, it was time for goodbyes. You watched Din as he put his suit back on, clean armor and all. The helmet hissed and took its rightful place.

“You did a great job. Thank you, Fix.” He said as he tipped his helmed towards you. You kissed the top of it with a smile.

“You’re welcome. Please… come back soon.”

He wrapped an arm around you to hug you probably for too long, before heading towards his ship. You watched as he left, still feeling filled with his warmth and love.

#din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #din djarin #din djarin x y/n #din djarin x yn #din djarin x you #mandalorian #mandalorian smut #mandalorian x you #mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x yn #mandalorian x y/n #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

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