#and this was me trying to keep my response short

[pucksandpower]

Say My Name

Oscar Piastri x streamer!Reader

Summary: when fans mistake Oscar for your ex while he is hanging around in the background of your stream, you get introduced to a side of Oscar that you’ve never seen before

Warnings: 18+ content

Your fingers fly across the keyboard as you narrate the intense battle unfolding on your stream. “Oh damn, that was close! I almost got sniped there.” You lean in, eyes narrowed at the screen. “Gotta be more careful or this round is over.”

The chat explodes with messages cheering you on. Being one of the top female gaming streamers has its perks, like an incredibly loyal fanbase that hangs on your every word.

You glance at the viewer count — over 50,000 watching live. Not too shabby.

“Okay team, let’s rush B, I’ll try to draw their fire.” You move your character into position, heart pounding with anticipation.

Suddenly, a quiet thump comes from the living room behind you. You start, whipping your head around, but see nothing amiss through the open doorway. Must have been your imagination.

You refocus on the game, calling out tactics to your teammates. Another muffled sound, like something soft hitting the floor, catches your attention. You turn off your video and hit mute on your mic. “Hello? Is someone there?”

No response. You’re just about to unmute when a very familiar face pops into view from the hallway. It’s your boyfriend of nearly two years.

Your face splits into a huge grin as you take in his messy hair and the rumpled clothes he slept in on the flight. “Oscar! You’re back early!”

He crosses to you, bending to press a kiss to the top of your head. “Missed you,” he mumbles against your hair.

You tilt your face up for a proper kiss, “I missed you too, ba-”

But you’re cut off as his lips crash into yours, insistent and heated. Heat blooms in your cheeks at the sudden, passionate embrace. Far too soon, Oscar pulls away, leaving you flustered and breathless.

“Sorry,” he says with a smirk that suggests he’s anything but. “Couldn’t help myself.”

You shake your head, laughing. “You’re ridiculous. I’m working, you know.”

“So I noticed.” Oscar settles onto the couch just off-camera, casual as can be. “Don’t mind me, keep going.”

“You sure?” You eye him skeptically. The stream has been on a short period without your commentary and the chat is getting restless. “I can take a break if you want.”

He waves a dismissive hand. “No, no, I’m just going to hang out here for a bit. Go ahead.”

Hesitating only a moment, you turn your video back on and unmute your mic. “Alright folks, sorry about that little pause. I, uh, got a surprise visitor.” You gesture vaguely toward where Oscar lounges behind you.

The chat instantly lights up with questions about who was there. Smiling to yourself, you ignore them for now, re-focusing on the game.

Over the next hour, it becomes increasingly difficult to concentrate. Oscar keeps distracting you, making silly faces and gestures whenever you glance his way. More than once you have to stifle a laugh after catching sight of him. Your fans seem to find your giggly mood delightful, though they remain oblivious to the cause.

Finally, in a rare break between matches, you swivel in your chair to face him. “You’re being so disruptive,” you stage-whisper. “Don’t you have better things to do than pester me?”

Oscar feigns innocence. “Who, me? I’m just sitting here, love.”

Rolling your eyes, you stretch your arms overhead with a groan, back popping from sitting so long. Oscar’s gaze shamelessly rakes over you, darkening.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you mutter, fighting a smile.

“Like what?” His eyes glint with mischief.

You open your mouth to respond, but a new donation notification pops up on your stream, cutting you off. “Oh, wow, thanks for the ten thousand bits, Legend27!” The expensive donation isn’t that unusual, but the comment attached gives you pause.

I’m so happy you and Eric made up! You two are couple goals for real.

Frowning, you scan the new barrage of messages flooding the chat … and find dozens echoing similar sentiments.

Your stomach drops as you finally realize what your viewers think is happening. They assume Oscar is actually your ex, the one you briefly dated and had an awful breakup with over two years ago. Apparently his surprise appearance has led them to believe you two have reconciled.

Heat floods your face at the misunderstanding. Objecting seems pointless though — you’ve learned it’s better not to discuss your private romantic life on stream. “Ah, thanks guys, you’re too kind,” you finally say, aiming for a neutral tone.

Beside you, Oscar stiffens, catching the implications of the messages. His jaw clenches and you watch as his face cycles through a series of micro-expressions — first surprise, then confusion, quickly followed by displeasure and … jealousy?

Uh oh. This could get messy fast if he gets worked up. You try to subtly shake your head at him in a silent plea to ignore the chat.

No such luck. His brow furrows deeper and you can practically see the tension ratcheting up in his shoulders.

Suddenly, Oscar surges to his feet with a muttered curse. Before you can react, he’s stalking around the side of your chair until he’s directly in view of the camera’s frame.

“Oscar, what are you-”

But he cuts you off by cupping your face in his hands and kissing you hard. Your startled squeak is smothered by his fierce, possessive mouth moving over yours.

Powerless to resist the onslaught of sensations, you melt bonelessly against him as the kiss stretches on and on. Only the escalating number of notifications showing the shock and exclamations from your viewers finally breaks through the heady fog.

With extreme reluctance, Oscar ends the kiss, both of you panting. He keeps his face buried in the crook of your neck, lips brushing your flushed skin as he growls, “She’s mine.”

Then, before you can respond, he reaches past you and slams his palm into the power button of your streaming setup, shutting everything down.

The simultaneous howl of outrage from tens of thousands of confused fans cuts off abruptly as the screen goes black. Only the two of you are left in the ringing silence that follows.

“Oscar!” You finally manage. “What was that?”

He pulls away enough to meet your wide-eyed gaze, his brown eyes blazing with an intensity that steals your breath.

“I got … jealous,” he admits, seeming almost surprised at his own vehement reaction. “When they thought I was your ex. I didn’t like that at all.”

Your expression softens at his uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. Reaching out, you trace his sharp cheekbone with gentle fingers. “You have no reason to be jealous, silly man. It’s only ever been you.”

Some of the blazing heat in his stare banks into smoldering embers at your reassurance. “Yeah?” A smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Good.”

He leans in again until his lips are a hairsbreadth from yours. “Because you’re mine, okay? And I’m yours.”

“Yeah,” you breathe out, dizzy with wanting him. “I’m all yours, Oscar.”

The possessive words seem to flip a switch in him. With a low, rumbling sound of approval, his mouth slants over yours once more in a searing, demanding kiss that makes your toes curl.

The abrupt ending to your stream is already causing a social media firestorm of epic proportions. But surrounded by the circle of Oscar’s arms, his familiar warmth and love, you can’t find it in yourself to care even a little bit.

After all, you think dizzily as he deepens the kiss, your fans should have recognized that you two were a couple from the very start — because Oscar Piastri is most definitely not your ex.

He’s your everything.

***

Oscar’s hands are everywhere, seemingly unable to get enough of you as his kisses grow more and more fervent. Your back hits the wall with a gentle thump as he crowds closer, caging you in with the solid warmth of his body.

“Missed you so much, love,” he rasps against the heated skin of your neck. “Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

A whimper escapes your lips at the scorching path his mouth blazes over your pulse point. “I m-missed you too, Oscar.”

His name falls from your lips like a prayer and he rewards you by sucking a mark into the sensitive spot just below your ear. Pleasure zings along your nerves at the hint of delicious possession in the act.

When he finally pulls back to gaze at you with dark, hooded eyes, his lips are reddened from enthusiastic use. The sight sends a molten flare of desire arrowing straight to your core.

“Say it again,” he commands roughly, voice gone low and gritty in that way that never fails to make you melt.

You blink up at him, momentarily lost in a lust-fueled haze. “W-What?”

“My name.” His large hands skim over the curve of your waist, bunching the fabric of your shirt. “Say my name again.”

“Oscar,” you breathe without hesitation, watching raptly as his pupils blow wider at the sound. “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...”

Each breathy iteration seems to stoke his hunger hotter. His fingers flex against your sides like he’s holding himself back from something.

On a daring whim, you slant your mouth near his ear, letting your lips brush the shell with every word. “Oscar Piastri,” you practically purr. “My Oscar.”

A broken groan is your only warning before he���s on you again, mouths crashing together in a heated crash of lips, teeth, and tangling tongues. His hand comes up to cup the nape of your neck, angling your face for deeper exploration.

When you finally manage to tear your lips away, you’re both panting harshly, chests heaving. “What’s … gotten into you?” You pant.

Rather than answer, Oscar just shakes his head and dives back in for more fervent kisses, like a man dying of thirst and you’re the most delicious drink he’s ever tasted.

It’s not until he suddenly grips your waist and spins the two of you around, depositing you on the desk with a surprising lack of finesse, that you realize just how wildly affected he is.

Oscar licks into the seam of your lips like he’s staking a claim and something within you shatters at the stark, naked wanting in his eyes when he pulls back the tiniest bit.

He just stares at you, chest heaving, gaze roving hungrily over your features like he’s memorizing you all over again. His pupils are blown wide, just thin rings of molten brown remaining around the black.

When he speaks, his voice is low and gravelly in a way that vibrates through you. “Say. My. Name.”

“Oscar,” you respond immediately, not even having to think. His hungry gaze burns over you and you feel stripped bare and vulnerable under the weight of it.

But rather than make you want to cover up, it has the opposite effect — you’re reeling him in, hands fisted in his shirt to pull him closer. You never want this delirious, frantic sense of possession and desire to end.

“Again,” he grinds out, sounding utterly wrecked already.

“Oscar.” You bare your neck for him as you say it, like presenting an offering. He groans low and deep, instantly ducking to mouth along the column of your throat.

His hands are everywhere, pushing up the hem of your top, kneading along your sides and ribs as he nips and sucks bruising paths across your collarbones and chest.

“Don’t stop saying it,” he orders, more plea than demand.

So you let his name become a breathless prayer falling from your lips, over and over between gasps and keening whimpers. You lose yourself in a heady feedback loop — the more you speak his name with naked wanting, the wilder it seems to drive him until his touch grows scattered and devouring.

At some point his hands finally succeed in tugging your shirt up and off. Your name doesn’t even register when his scorching mouth closes over one peaked bud, your back bowing at the shuddering bolt of sensation that lances through you.

All you can seem to process is the feel of his calloused palms mapping every inch of newly-exposed skin and the desperate mumble of “Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...” spilling shameless and endless from your lips.

Eventually, the heated exploration of his mouth and hands becomes too much to simply lay there and take. With a low, guttural sound you haul Oscar upright and swing your legs around his hips, relishing his full body shudder.

“Not enough,” you accuse roughly, rolling your core against his in clear invitation. “Need you closer, Oscar.”

His heated groan at your wanton demand is music to your ears. Strong hands grasp your thighs to hitch your legs higher around his waist as he surges against you.

“So impatient, my darling girl,” he teases. This close, you can make out the faintest brush of freckles scattered over the bridge of his nose and cheekbones that you’ve mapped and memorized with lips and fingertips a hundred times before.

You can’t help but reach out to graze them with your thumb, gazing up at him with naked adoration. “My Oscar,” you murmur reverently.

His eyes slip shut for a beat, jaw ticking as if your words have an unexpectedly profound effect on him. When he opens them again, his gaze is fierce and intent.

“Yours,” he vows simply, leaning in to seal the promise against the plush of your lips.

The kiss is somehow softer and headier than before. You get lost in the lush glide of his mouth, every sliding brush of lip and tongue shorting out whatever rational thoughts remain until all you know is his name — the shape and taste and weight of it against your own.

It’s the only thing that seems real, vital, until at some point Oscar’s mouth leaves yours to trail hot, openmouthed kisses down your chest and stomach and lower still.

Your back bows as you squirm incoherently against the press of his lips and tongue. His restraint seems to have finally snapped, movements growing hungry and rough as he works you steadily higher.

“Oscar,” you sob out his name like you’re breaking apart, pleading for something you can’t quite name. He answers with a rumbling sound of satisfaction that vibrates hotly against your sensitized flesh.

More, is all you can think as he redoubles his efforts.

At some point, you must have arched helplessly off the desk because suddenly his hands are at the small of your back, fingertips digging in hard as he holds you arched for his questing mouth.

The intimate angle of his positioning has your jaw dropping open on a silent scream of overwhelmed pleasure. All that escapes is a strangled gasp of, “Oscar!”

He growls something incoherent against you that might be praise, might be reassurance, might just be your name groaned out roughly in shared bliss. But you honestly can’t tell anymore — you’ve transcended far past coherent speech and rational thought.

Everything has devolved into just sensation and feeling and the endless loop of his name spilling over and over from your lips like a benediction.

Oscar, Oscar, Oscar ...

Just when you think you might actually shatter into pieces from the intensity he’s wringing out of you, strong hands are abruptly hauling you up and off the desk in one smooth motion.

You cling to him with heavy limbs, burying your face in the crook of his neck as he staggers the few steps to your shared bedroom. At some point his shirt has vanished, allowing your hands free rein to roam over flexing muscle and heated skin.

When the backs of his legs hit the edge of the mattress, he pauses to claim your mouth in another searing, shattering kiss. He whispers something fervent and intense against your lips, your name perhaps intertwined with endearments or promises.

You can’t be sure. All you know is the shape of his name against your tongue, the only word your mind seems capable of holding onto as he lowers you reverently to the sheets and stretches out over you.

When he finally sinks into you with a harsh groan of relief, your back bows and you let out a broken, high keen — his name once more torn from your lips in breathless ecstasy.

“There you are, that’s it love,” he growls hoarsely as he begins to move, words interspersed between drugging, thorough thrusts. “Let me hear you, let me hear my name on those pretty lips.”

So you do, shamelessly loud and incoherent now as he gradually unravels you from the inside out. His name and gasped pleas and frantic praise all blur together in a continuous stream of blissful delirium.

At some point, his own control seems to splinter apart, hips snapping hard and deep as his pace turns utterly unrestrained. Still, you chase that shattering edge, crying out for Oscar as your whole world narrows to the merciless intensity of his driving thrusts and demanding hands kneading your flesh with staking ownership.

When you finally go soaring over that dizzying peak with his name torn hoarse from your throat, he follows you over almost violently with a ragged shout. Oscar’s arms shake dangerously as he holds his weight off of you, pupils swallowing up the copper of his eyes entirely in onyx pools of spent lust.

As you slowly float back down from that searing high, limbs heavy and sated, you reach up to trace the sharp line of his cheekbone. He turns his face into your palm with a shuddering exhale as if grounding himself.

For several long breaths, all that can be heard is your shaky inhales mingling together while your racing heartbeats gradually return to normal.

Finally, Oscar presses a warm, lingering kiss to the center of your palm before shifting to stretch out beside you, his weight dipping the mattress.

You immediately curl into the reassuring heat of him, despite the sweat still cooling along your skin. One of his arms bands around your waist, holding you flush against his side while his other hand comes up to card soothingly through your hair.

Nestling your face into the curve where his shoulder meets his neck, you press a gentle kiss to the hollow of his throat and whisper, “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” he murmurs back, low and slightly scratchy in the aftermath. You can hear the smile in his voice as his fingers keep carding idly through your hair.

Silence falls again, comfortable and peaceful in the aftermath of your frantic passion, both of you simply basking in the warmth of shared nearness.

Eventually though, the question you’ve been avoiding asking slips out in a hazy murmur. “What brought all … that … on, Oscar?”

He’s quiet for so long, you begin to wonder if he fell asleep. Just when you’re about to shift to look at him though, he speaks up.

“When your fans assumed I was your ex … the way they were celebrating that the two of you got back together ...” His fingers stroke almost absentmindedly through your hair as he pauses. “I dunno, something in me just .. .snapped a little. Seeing them say over and over how perfect he was for you ...”

He trails off with a low chuckle, and you can’t resist craning your neck to glance up at him curiously. When your eyes meet his, his expression is rueful.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of any other name on your lips, love. Even your own.” His fingertips trace the line of your jaw with unbearable tenderness. “All I wanted was for you to say my name like that — like it’s the only word that matters in the entire world.”

Just like that, a fresh ember of want rekindles low in your belly at the slightly awed honesty in his voice. You exhale a shaky breath, searching his stormy gaze for … what? Evidence of how crazily affected you are by such a simple revelation?

Whatever he finds reflected in your stare seems to give him pause as well because his eyes almost immediately darken with renewed hunger.

“Say it again then,” he husks, rolling until he’s leaned over you, hands planted on either side of your head. There’s no demand in the words, just low, thrumming need thrilling between you both.

So you reach up to cup his face in your palms, rubbing your thumbs over the sandpapery stubble along his strong jawline as you gaze adoringly up at him.

“Oscar ...” you breathe out his name like a sacred invocation. “My Oscar.”

His eyes slip shut and he makes a low, ragged sound of pure satisfaction on an exhale that ghosts across your lips.

“Yeah,” he rasps, bending lower until his forehead rests against yours. “That’s it, love … that’s all I ever want to hear.”

You pull him back down to you then, unable and unwilling to resist sealing the promise of those words against his lips with your own.

And as everything inevitably dissolves into heat and need and formless ecstasy once more, you lose yourself to the endless chant of his name on your lips — your entire world whittled down to just that one exalted word, over and over and over.

Because really, what other name could ever matter when Oscar Piastri is the only name you’ll ever need?

#f1 imagine #f1 #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #f1 x reader #f1 x you #oscar piastri #op81 #oscar piastri imagine #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri fic #oscar piastri fluff #oscar piastri fanfic #oscar piastri blurb #f1 fluff #f1 blurb #f1 one shot #f1 x y/n #f1 drabble #f1 fandom #f1blr #f1 x female reader #oscar piastri x female reader #oscar piastri x y/n #mclaren #oscar piastri one shot #oscar piastri drabble

[ataliagold]

Knocking Me Out With Those American Thighs

For @astrangersummer prompt 'short shorts'

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson (pre-relationship)

Rating: Teen (swearing)

W/C - 848

Tags: Post Season 4 Volume 2, Eddie Munson Lives, Eddie Munson has a crush on Steve Harrington, flirting, Steve Harrington wears short shorts, summer, pool party, sun bathing, water balloons, Steve Harrington's thighs, Eddie Munson is suffering

Summary: Steve sunbathes in the tiniest shorts Hawkins has ever seen. Eddie tries and fails to keep his cool.

___

Eddie was suffering.

Not just from the heat of the midday sun baking him alive, or from the way his hair was practically glued to his sweat-slick neck.

No, the worst of his suffering was caused by Steve Harrington’s thighs.

They were going to kill him.

Eddie couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t, he just had to keep glancing over at where the other boy was lying in the grass, skin bare except for the tiniest pair of shorts Eddie had ever seen. They barely covered the top half of his thighs for fuck’s sake, what was even the point in them…

The guy’s naked chest and torso had already done a number on Eddie. But when Steve had laid down, stretched out to sunbathe in his backyard, those already-skimpy shorts had ridden up even higher, revealing a slightly paler strip of skin stretched tight over lean muscle and Eddie had had to sit on his damn hands to stop himself from reaching out and just touching…

A water balloon smacked into the side of Eddie’s face, momentarily dragging his attention away from Steve’s hairy thighs.

Luckily for Dustin, who was standing with his hands on his hips nearby and rolling his eyes at Eddie, the balloon hadn’t burst. If it had, Eddie might’ve strangled the kid himself.

“Hey, we said no water balloons near us!” Robin grumbled, sitting up to glare at the kid.

“I called your name three times,” Dustin complained to Eddie. “Not my fault you were too busy staring at Steve.”

Eddie’s eyes darted sideways, sensing movement from Steve. The boy cracked open an eye to give Eddie a brief glance, then closed it again, the tiniest smirk spreading across his face.

“I was not, you little shrimp,” Eddie snapped. “Now what do you want?”

“Come throw the rings into the pool for me? Lucas and Mike keep grabbing them before I can reach them, and I want to try and dive for them.”

Eddie snorted. “What are you, a fucking dolphin?”

“Language,” Steve mumbled lazily, not opening his eyes.

“Apologies, my liege, I’ll try to keep my language appropriate around your little charges.”

“Thank you.”

Eddie stood, wincing a little as he reached up to touch his rapidly reddening shoulders. Unlike Steve, he wasn’t gifted with a natural golden glow to his skin. He was pasty, usually sheet-white.

And now, he was steadily burning to a crisp.

Grumbling under his breath, Eddie stole one last look at the prone Steve, let his eyes run over his form for as long as he thought he could get away with. He could wax poetry about his thighs, about his torso, about the moles dotting his chest and stomach like constellations…

“Eddie?”

Fuck.

“Yeah, Steve?” His response came out as almost a squeak.

“You’re burnt. Once you’re finished entertaining Dustin, come back and get some sunblock on, I’ll help with your shoulders.”

Eddie swallowed thickly. Because that meant Steve would have his hands on him, all sun-warm as he spread sunblock across Eddie’s sensitive skin…

Steve opened his eyes then, rolling over to face Eddie and propping his head up on his hand with his elbow bent.

“And then after that, you can do my back.”

He fucking winked.

Eddie backpeddled, nodding quickly then turning around and doing his best to not trip over his feet as he scrambled after Dustin.

“Dude, you’re the least subtle person I’ve ever seen,” Dustin whispered to him as they walked towards the pool.

“Shut up.”

Eddie threw the rings half-heartedly into the pool, Dustin diving for them in a…not so impressive display of athleticism, but he would emerge eventually and toss the colourful rings back at Eddie, the other kids watching on.

As it tended to do, Eddie’s attention drifted back to Steve.

He was up now, chasing Robin around in the grass with the still-intact water balloon in hand. Robin was shrieking and trying to slap at him with her book, sunglasses flying from her hair. Steve hurled the water balloon, but it slapped against Robin’s back and plopped to the ground without breaking again.

Lightning quick, Robin picked it up and threw it hard back at Steve.

It smacked onto Steve’s chest and burst.

Eddie’s wide eyes drifted down.

Steve’s tiny shorts were now soaked, Robin doubled over with laughter as the water trickled down his torso and collected at the waistband.

Eddie’s gaze followed the path of water through Steve’s chest hair, down the soft planes of his stomach and small swell of his abdominal muscles, tracking past the healing scars on his sides…

When he looked up again, Steve’s eyes were on him.

Just as Eddie was trying to craft an excuse as to why he was openly ogling the guy again, Steve swiped the bottle of sunblock from the grass, holding it up with a little wiggle to Eddie, a slow grin spreading across his face.

Eddie dropped Dustin’s rings into the water without looking, ignoring the kid’s protests, and strode towards Steve.

The other boy’s smile spread wider, his eyes twinkling.

Eddie was fucked.

___

#a stranger summer #stranger things fic #steve harrington/eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic

[ggukslov]

Honey kiss 💋

୨୧ Pairing : bfjungkook x fem!Reader

୨୧ Genere : smut

୨୧ word count : 2k+

Warning : alcohol consumption, oral (f! receiving), eating out, jealous sex, handcuffs, edging, orgasm denial, overstimulation, penetrative sex, hickeys, (jk is jealous, protective and possessive af), pet names ( alot cuz I love them, hehe), spanking, aftercare, jk likes to be called daddy, soft jk in the end

Note : this is my first ever time writing smut , I'm shy, and feeling uhm maybe a little shameful after writing this, though I hope you like it, and yes- English isn't my first language so bear if you see any grammatical mistakes. <33

____________________________________________

"Want another glass, honey?" Jungkook asks sipping on his wine.

You are lucky to have a boyfriend like him, always sweet and caring, but when angry, can easily take you to heaven. He's a sex god. No one can ever please you the way he does.

Out of this world.

"Sure" you nods your head, bringing your glass closer to him so he can pour you another glass of wine, so sweet of him to surprise you with candle light dinner when you got home after your hectic day at work. As he pours you another glass, you see his facial expressions change into a slight smirk.

You already had three glass and you started to feel tipsy, "You sure, you can handle another glass? Your face is already red." He caresses your cheek, pulls your chair closer to his. "Mhmm" you nods, reassuring him that you can handle another glass. He chuckles slightly at your short response, looking at you as you eat your pasta.

He gives the glass back to you and you sips on it. Gulping down more wine in your system you start to feel more tipsy. That's when you feel jungkook hand slipping under your dress as he caresses your thigh drawing small patterns. Waiting for your response as looking at your drunk state.

"Baby, do you want to say something?" He asks as if he can read your mind, still drawing small patterns on your thigh. You feel his hand started to get a little firm with each stroke. You finish your glass and put it on the table, so does jungkook. He finishes his pasta, waiting for you to finish yours too. Gliding his hand up and up. "Hmm?" He asks again.

"No kook." You says as you finish your pasta too. Your head started to feel lighter, the alcohol kicking in, jungkook hand firmly grabbing your thigh. "liar! I heard what happened today at your office." You feel him gritting his teeth slowly as he started to draw circles on your inner thigh.

You know what's coming for you.

You stay silent, waiting for him to say something as the heat between your legs starting to grow. "What happened? Why all silent now huh!? Would you like to tell me by yourself or should I do it for you?" He speaks, his voice sounding angry. "Jungkook. I- that wasn't my fault.  He was trying to get closer to me but believe me I push him away." You looks up at him, seeing his jaw clenching.

It wasn't your fault. You just went to your office terrace to get some air when you feel someone's coming towards you from behind, slowly snaking his hands on your waist. You turn around to meet taehyung. The man who has a crush on you. He tried to impress you so many times but today it was too much. You rejected him saying that you have a boyfriend and you don't need him to invade your privacy and want to have some distance with him.

"Yeah? Jimin sent me a video of you and him, on terrace. How dare he touched you like that! And why were you rejecting him that calmly? Why didn't you slap him, huh?" Jimin his best friend who works in the same company as you, sure jungkook tells him to keep an eye on you and to make sure that you are taking care of yourself.

"Jungkook, i rejected him. And how I'm able to slap someone at work?" You speak back, proving your point. "watch your mouth, that's not how you talk to your daddy, hm?" He says firmly. The alcohol making you lightheaded. You want to prove that you are innocent and it's isn't your fault at all.

You slightly removes his hand from your thigh. "It wasn't my fault at all, stop blaming me, and you told jimin to keep an eye on me, right? Don't you trust me?" You see his eyes getting dark with each of your word.

He put his hand back on your thigh, this time more firmly. "You know I don't like when someone else gets close to you, and yeah jimin is keeping an eye on you because I need to take care of you." You hears sincerety in his voice, he still looks jealous, he's is protective of you. He doesn't like when any other man looks at you inappropriately.

"And for the way how you speak to me, i should punish you." He stands up from the dining table and you look up at him, your vision slightly blurry of the alcohol. Your skin feeling hot. "Get on the couch, on all fours." He orders as he takes the dishes to the sink.

"But-"

"No buts." He cuts you off, you don't have another choice, besides you are also feeling kinda horny from all the teasing he did.

You walk to the couch, looking at him as he went into his bedroom.

You get on the couch, as he walks back into the living room, with a pair of handcuffs. "Get on all fours, right now." You obeys him and get on your fours, ass facing him. He bends down to your level and lock your hands with handcuffs.

"Now, be a good girl and do as daddy says, got it" you nods. He opens the zip of your dress, sliding down the dress and throwing it on the floor. Leaving you only in your panties.

You got a slap on your ass, which makes you squirm, the burning sensation stays there but he soon kisses the spot where he spanks you. Soon another spank came, makes you shudders. "Keep still." Another spank.

You buried your head into the cushion, the another spank came, and your knees gives up, jungkook helds your waist and kisses on the red handprint. "Good girl. You are doing good." You muffles in the pillow. His kisses sending shivers down your spine.

"Already wet for daddy, huh! Gonna treat you good, gonna mark you up so everyone can see who you belongs to."

Without any warning he slides one finger into your hole making you moan.

He keeps his finger still making you whine, you want some friction so you slightly grind on his finger. But he holds you in place. "Patience honey, did I tell you to ride my fingers, huh?" He slides another finger, stretching you.

"Please jungkook." You speaks lowly face still buried in the pillow as you want him to move. "Please what babe? Hm? Please what? Use your words, open that dirty mouth of yours and tell me what you want me to do." He isn't moving at all, his fingers still in your hole.

You had enough, it's all making you frustrated. You grind on his fingers once again just to get an another spank. "I said, use your words." He speaks firmly.

"P-please- move your fingers, please I want it." As soon as you beg him to give you some relief, he slowly moves his finger in and out of your glistened hole, making you arch your back, another hand grabbing your waist to make you stay still.

"See, it's easy when you use that mouth of yours, you just have to say, and I'll give you everything you want. But-" the pace increases, his hand moving harder, making you buried your head deep into the pillow, the pleasure is making you so good that you don't even know where are you. "Stay away from other men, you are mine, mine to please, mine to fuck, mine to use the way I want. You are mine, my little angel. Right? You are daddy's little good girl, huh?" The pace only increasing. With each word, getting harder and harder leaving you breathless.

You nods, feeling the knot in your stomach getting tighter with each pump.

"Say that you are mine. Speak louder." His thumb starts tracing your folds, taking you close to your climax.

"Mhm, I'm yours, only yours-" you feel more close to your climax, wanting to cum. "Yeh? Wanna cum?" His thumb rubs your clit. You nods. "Say please, say, use your magical words honey, and I'll let you."

"P-please- daddy- please let me cum, I'll be your good girl, please let me cum."

"Hm! Cum on my fingers, honey." And as he gives you permission, you come undone on his fingers, breathing heavily. He keeps his finger inside, you whine feeling overstimulated. Tries to push his hand away off you. "Uhh- plea-" he pops his fingers out of your hole. Cum dripping on your thigh, his hand coming to your mouth.

"Lick your sweet honey off. Clean my fingers." You obeys and suck on his fingers tasting yourself. "Good girl, you are so good for daddy." You lays on your stomach, he takes out his finger from your mouth and licks off your saliva.

"Already tired? I'm not done yet." Strokes your hair, "you look so good, laying for me like this, breathing heavily. Waiting for me to give you permission so that you can cum. So good, you are too good for me." He kisses your forehead, removes his shirt. You looks up at him lazily, all the alcohol making you thirsty for him.

As soon as his abs are on display, your mouth drools. "Please daddy, please remove these handcuffs, I wanna touch you so bad." You sits up.

He shakes his head, "remember, it's your punishment? You don't have permission to touch me yet." As he removes his pants, leaving himself in his boxers, your eyes went to his hard cock, so prominent, begging for attention.

"Please-"

"No." He gets on top of you, "just lay back down and let me punish you" you lay back on your back, looking at him. He gets on his knees, trailing kisses from your neck to down to your stomach until he stops at where the hem of your underwear is.

He looks in your eyes and smirk, slowly removing your soaked panties from your slick, throwing them on the floor as well. He kiss on your soft bud, and you moan grabbing his hair, eyes closed.

He gives a long lick to your soft bud making your grip tighter on his hairs, grabbing your waist with both hands, he slowly sucks on your clit making you clench on nothing. Licking you whole, his tongue gets in the contact of your sensitive entrance, "you smell so sweet, taste so good uhh-" he groaned, head between your legs as he sucks on yours entrance.

Before you can say anything, his tongue pokes your hole, as he eats you whole, doing his magic to your pussy, making you clench on his tongue, sucking, licking, eating.

You soon feel another wave of pleasure taking you close to your second climax, your hand in his hair tighten. But before you can cum, he removes his mouth from your hole, giving you a smirk, as you whine. "Want to cum again huh?" He removes his boxers, freeing his hard cock. Grabbing and pumping it one or two times, precum already dripping down, you nods desperately.

"Hm? Then-" spreading your legs wider, he pushes his cock inside you, making you moan loudly. "Oh jungkook-"

"Yes baby? Do you like this cock, liking how it taking you to the edge? Wanna cum on daddy's cock?" He thrust back and forth, deeper and harder. You moan loudly as he kisses on your neck, your sensitive breasts and collarbone, getting on your sensitive spot as he sucks hardly, making you shiver in pleasure. You nods again. "Mhm, please. I wanna cum-" the knot getting tighter again.

He fastens his pace as sucks on your neck, leaving dark red hickey on your neck. Whispers in your ear "yeah? Wait till I say so. Got it?" You whine, his pace only increasing, making you clench tight.

"Oh baby, you are tight, i preped you enough but you are still so tight, loving daddy's cock?" You nods desperately. "Yeah- so good. Please let me cum-"

"What did I say? You ain't allowed to cum, wait till I give you permission to cum." It's too much pleasure for you, you can't take it anymore. His animalistic pace only making difficult for you to not cum.

You can't hold it back anymore and you cum without his permission, getting another spank on your ass. "Brat!! I told you to hold it." His movements getting sloppier as he's chasing his own high. Your breathing getting heavier and heavier as you feel another climax.

You whine loudly. "Ah- st-stop, I can't-"

"You can, just 5 more minutes, i know you can, you are my baby, listen to what daddy's saying." He kisses you intensely to making you relax.

He grunts in your mouth as his movements getting sloppier and sloppier with each push, soon he cums inside you, filling you up to the brim, and you cum once again.

A tear fell down your cheeks, he breaks the kiss and kisses your cheek. "You did so good for daddy, so good. I'm proud of you." He kisses your forehead gently, laying on top of you. You whine feeling overstimulated. He chuckles and pulls out of you. His cum dripping on your thigh. "Look, how much mess you made" he gets back down and lick your dripping cum off you, you whine loudly trying to pushes his head, but he only licks you deeper, you grab his hair tightly and pushes his head, he chuckles.

"You taste so good, I just can't stay away." He kisses your forehead once again and grabs wet wipes from the table, cleaning himself and grabbing onto more to clean yourself. you squirm.

"Sorry baby, I'll be gentle, did I hurt you?" He now gently cleans. You shakes your head as you keeps your eyes close feelings sleepy.

Once he cleans you, he uncuffes you and kisses your wrist gently, "you are mine, and only mine, honey, I love you."

He carries you to the bedroom and covers you both in the blanket. Kisses your forehead once again as he snuggles up. "I love you too, jungkook" you mumbles. He chuckles and you both drift off to sleep.

___________________________________________

Don't steal, translate or copy.

This is my original work!

Let me know in the comments how was it, and if you want me to write more, you can request. I'm still new, though ~

Follow for moree <3

#jeon jungook #jeongguk #jeon jungkook #jungkook x oc #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x you #jungkook imagine #fanfic #oneshot #jungkook smut #jungkook scenarios #jungkook oneshot #jk #jungkook x reader #bts imagines #bts jeongguk #boyfriend jungkook #smut #fluff #jealous jungkook #jk fic #jungkook fic #daddy’s babygirl #jungkookie #bunny kook #bts

[buck-up-buck]

Tommy pushed the door open and helped Evan into his loft, holding the majority of his weight, a pharmacy bag hanging loosely at his other side.

"Easy, nice and slow." He kicked the door closed behind them, dropping the bag to the floor and stopping so Evan could catch his breath. The trip from the car up to the fourth floor had taken its toll on him, his breath coming out in short pants against Tommy's neck. "Couch, or bed?"

"Couch is fine." He huffed out, closing his eyes for a second before nodding, showing Tommy he was ready to start moving again.

"All your weight on me, okay?" They carried on the same way until they finally reached the couch, Tommy lowering Evan down slowly, making sure to keep his bad leg off the ground. Once he was sat down, he grabbed two of the cushions from the arm chair so that Evan could elevate his leg.

"Thank you." Evan sighed heavily, leaning his head back as he tried to get his breathing back under control, Tommy taking this time to head to the kitchen. Maddie had texted him before he picked Evan up from the hospital to let him know she had stocked his fridge and cupboards, so they should be good for a few days. He knew Evan was just about due another round of painkillers, so he grabbed an electrolyte drink from the fridge and then ran to the entryway, picking the bag up and depositing it on the kitchen side.

He chose for the time being to put aside the burn ointment, knowing he would need to redress Evan's bandages later on, but would wait until his pain had subsided some and he had at least had a nap. Taking out two painkillers, he headed back to Evan and knelt down next to his head, watching as he turned his head to the side, sending Tommy a small smile.

"Hi." He whispered, Tommy's heart fluttering.

"Hey. I have your painkillers and a drink for you." Placing a kiss on Evan's forehead, Tommy helped him sit up, leaving him to take the pills while he reached over the back of the couch for Evan's large throw blanket, draping it over his frame. "You should get some rest." Evan nodded and took one last swig of his drink before screwing the lid on and popping the bottle on the coffee table, staring up at Tommy who was standing at his head, arms hovering as if wanting to reach out and say something.

Buck knew he probably had somewhere to be, and was just making sure he didn't need anything else before he headed out for the night, but Buck was a pro at tending to his own injuries alone.

This, unfortunately, was not his first rodeo.

"I'm good Tommy, you can go if you need to."

"What? You want me to leave?" The frown on Tommy's face was adorable. Buck had grown to love kissing away his frown lines, using his mouth to literally turn his frown upside down.

"I mean, no, of course I don't want you to leave, but I'm home now. You don't have to hover, I'm more than capable of handling the rest on my own." Tommy crouched down near Buck's head and he chose now to pout, tilting his head up to try and catch Tommy's lips, but the man didn't move any closer, staying at arms length away from Buck which just would not do. "Babe seriously, I'm fine, but I won't be fine if you don't at least give me a kiss goodbye."

"I'm not giving you a kiss goodbye, Evan, because I am not going anywhere." Now it was Buck's turn to frown, his pout dropping off his face. "You really think I would just drop you off here and then head out for the night? You've just spent three days in the hospital, I'm not going anywhere unless you choose to kick me out your front door yourself."

"But- I'm fine?" His response came out as more of a question than a statement. Buck wasn't fine, he knew that. He had some pretty nasty burns, on his bad leg as well, and would probably be in a decent amount of pain for a while, but he was home now, and that was a start. He wasn't about to let Tommy waste away while he got better, Tommy didn't sign up for that. "You didn't sign up to be stuck looking after me, Tommy."

"And you didn't sign up for a crazy guy trapping you in a burning building, Evan"

"He wasn't crazy."

"Oh no, he was most definitely crazy." This got a laugh out of Evan, Tommy leaning forward to kiss his smile, before pulling back with a raised eyebrow. "Seriously Evan. I know we didn't sign up for any of this, but I am not going anywhere. We are on this recovery train together."

"So, me being injured on the job doesn't freak you out?"

"No more so than being injured in my own line of work does. It happens, but it doesn't mean you have to deal with it on your own." Oh, and if the heartbrokenly relieved look on Evan's face didn't shatter Tommy's heart. "Like I said, I am not going anywhere. Now, close your eyes, get some rest, and I will still be here when you wake up." Sniffling, Evan nodded, allowing himself to sink further into the couch, the soft sound of Tommy's breathing next to him lulling him to sleep.

@whollyjoly talking about parallels earlier inspired this so, enjoy!

#911 abc #evan buckley #tommy kinard #i will never forgive ali for leaving buck after the truck bombing #his little face in that scene breaks my heart #so here is tommy choosing to stay after his has been injured and healing some of bucks trauma #yes this is me foreshadowing a buck injury at the end of season seven #i need protective!tommy like right now #should i make this a full fic and post it? #maybe #maybe not #I don't know #but anyway until i decide #enjoy #talking about parallels with the clown car inspired this

[that-weeb-in-ur-closet]

"Energized with all the glory."

F!reader x FAMOUS!Satoru Gojo

♡ Tags. Female reader x Satoru Gojo, rough sex, drinking, uses of the words "princess", "my pretty", "my dear", and "Pretty girl", swearing.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. THIS IS SMUT.

Satoru is beautiful, and that's an understatement. Short, fluffy white hair, smooth fair skin, long white eyelashes, long fingers, a slim yet muscular build, a silky voice, glossy lips, and of course, his hypnotic blue eyes.

So, it's no surprise that a modeling agency came to him one day, or that he became famous in three days, and of course, it's not a surprise you saw him in every magazine, every post you see on Instagram, Facebook, Twitter, TikTok, you name it.

But, the supermodel saw you once, and was obsessed the very second it happened.

He just saw one of your random posts, and needed to know more about you.

So, he slid into your dm's.

...

And now, here we are, in his mansion, sipping red wine while you sit on his lap.

It was such a sultry and soft vibe, dim lights, him wearing a black tuxedo, and you wearing a beautiful red dress he bought you beforehand. And if you asked him why he did all this, he wouldn't tell you. Mainly because he himself doesn't know.

"Hm. I think you look really nice in that dress, my dear. It fits you perfectly, dontcha think?" He asks with his cheeky grin, booping you on your nose.

You nod in response, a soft smile on your lips as you look up at him. The wine is clearly expensive, maybe a bit too expensive for your liking. You're just a normal girl, living a normal life. You didn't expect this supermodel to invite you to his house, one of his many houses.

But, it all made sense after his endless compliments on how beautiful you are, and of course, it made even more sense when his hand started to wonder down your body, gently squeezing your nipples through the thin fabric.

"S-Satoru, H-he—" You get cut off by him pressing a gentle kiss to your lips, and you can feel his smirk from the way you try to hide your moan. His other hand starts to slip lower, rubbing against your thigh as you start to feel a poke against your ass.

"Hmm... It's okay, princess. Just relax for me, yeah?" He says with that charming smile, rolling up your dress to expose your panties that are soaking.

How can you say no? The supermodel let you in his house, gave you a fancy dress, fancy whine, and—he looks gorgeous. And, not very many people can experience this, so why not enjoy it?

And that's how you ended up in his bed, head pushed into the pillows, him ramming into you with the meanest thrusts you've ever had. You scream for him eyes rolling back while both your bodies continue to collide in a back-and-forth motion, him whispering "You're doing so good, my pretty— fuck- not many can take me this well~" he slurs out, leaning down to bite your shoulder.

"S-Satoru, p-please, be gentle— nghh- y-you-" You cut yourself off with a streaking moan when he goes faster, and you can feel his smirk when he talks.

"D-oh, why would I be gentle when I h-have the best pussy in the world r-right here?" He asks in a low and breathless way, voice high like he's about to moan or cum.

You don't answer, you can't answer. You just keep babbling his name, the feeling of him pushing in and out of you, hands rubbing circles into your hips, and his whines, it's all too much.

"Pretty g-girl, I-I fuck, I'm g-gonna c-c-" But he can't even finish his sentence when you clench around him. He cuts on the spot, strings of long and hot cum shooting into you. You follow suit, with him still grinding against you through both your orgasms, leaving you overstimulated and shaking, not to mention out of breath and about to pass out.

But, he quickly lets go of you and rolls you over, smiling as he pushes the hair out of your face. How does he look so pretty even after sex?

"You okay? Did I hurt you too much?" Yes. He hurt you a bit too much. But was it worth it? Oh, hell yeah.

You fucked a supermodel.

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk fanfic #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #gojo x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen headcanons #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo #satoru x reader #satoru smut #satoru x suguru #geto #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo jjk #satoru x you

[plush-rabbit]

The One Where Adam Steals Lucifer's Babe

Word Count: 4.9K A/N: I had an idea about this, but I wanted to get it out. This was supposed to be headcanons, but it turned into a story!! woo(•_•)  This is also not done. Like I wanted it to be be headcanons so bad, but i need to establish a plot line because im like dumb. um, so yeah. if this does become anything more, i think max three chapter Its written as if Adam is a sinner so yeah!! -

Dating the King of Hell should be easy- nothing short of bliss and love. And it is easy being with the King of Hell, when he has to make appearances, and he has to put up a front. But being with Lucifer is much more difficult. You know he’s not over Lilith, and you aren’t even close to being a replacement for her. And yet, he keeps you around. You can trick yourself that he still wants you, that maybe he does enjoy being with you. But lying to yourself doesn't make anything easier. You walk out of the castle without a word to Lucifer, childishly hoping that he’d figure out that you weren’t there on his own. On your stroll to nowhere in particular, you check your phone constantly, hoping to see a missed message or call from him- some type of form that he still takes notice of you. You have to silence your phone when you feel tears prick your eyes at the empty screen.

You wind up in some sleazy bar, a bit too tipsy, and far too melancholic  to do anything more than swirl a glass of alcohol with melting ice. You watch the condensation drip down the side of the glass, creating a ring over the coaster. Beside you, the chair scrapes, and your spirits are lifted. It’s Lucifer! He’s chased you down and now he’s going to apologize and proclaim his- your shoulders fall when you realize that it’s not Lucifer. The realization leaves you cold and far lonelier than you initially were. Instead, it’s Adam- the First Man. You wonder for a brief moment if he even still calls himself that.

“Mind your fuckin’ business,” he sneers, sitting beside you. He lifts his hand, and the bartender pushes a glass and a bottle towards him, muttering something about a tab under his breath before turning his attention elsewhere. 

You heard he had become a Sinner- the very thing he sought to kill for entertainment not that long ago. However, you had yet to see him since he was stabbed by Niffty. You wonder if his new form has a hole in his back now.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he tells you, malice tinged at his words, but he makes no real motion to actively wave you off. You’re sure he would have if he was still divine.

A closer inspection reveals that he’s in far worse shape than you could have imagined. A beard that’s in the awkward phase of growing out, deep bags under his eyes, and gaunt cheeks. Hell has not been kind to him. But, what else could you have expected? He was an exorcist- the exorcist- and now, he’s stuck in Hell. Honestly, you should be surprised that his head isn’t mounted somewhere.

You turn back to your drink, and wipe a line of condensation off. “I’m surprised you’d even show your face around these parts,” you mumble, taking a swig of your drink. It burns going down, and you try to hide your displeased expression.

“Fuck you,” he hisses out, taking a long drink from the bottle.

“You know, as a former exorcist, I’d suggest being nice to demons around these parts.” You raise your hand at the bartender, and he walks over, and places the tab in front of you. “You never know who you’re gonna piss off next.” You leave a hefty amount, enough to cover your drinks and leave a pretty tip. 

“What? You’re gonna sick Lucifer on me?” You turn to him, embarrassment hot on your cheeks, and he wears a crooked smile. “Your face and his are plastered everywhere I look.”

With a sigh, you push the check away from you. “Must suck for you,” you mumble. His response is to take a drink from the bottle. “I hated having my picture taken before,” you tell him, unsure if he’s even listening or not. “I felt that they never really got my good side.”

“I’d get photographed all the time in Heaven,” he says in a low tone after a moment of silence. “Bitches could never get enough of me.” You scrunch your nose at the word, and fold the straw wrapper into squares. “Fucking loved it.”

“Wish I loved the camera.” You cross your ankles together, tucking them under the seat of the stool. “I hated being looked at.”

There's a pause in the conversation, long enough that you believe the small talk has ended. You could go back to the castle but if Lucifer hadn't taken notice of your absence, you'd surely have a breakdown. Maybe you could go to the hotel. Charlie would understand. “You still get your picture taken?” Adam asks, his voice startling you. 

You tilt your head to the side, underneath the seat, your legs twist around themselves. “Not as often as I used to. I think it was more like uh-” you wave your hand around and the folded wrapper unfurls itself- “shock value? I think. Like the King of Hell downgrading to some resident.” You smile bitterly. “Not even a Goetia or anything.”

“A Goetia?”

“These magical birds.” You look at him. “You’ve been in Hell for a bit, haven’t you? I’m surprised you haven’t heard or seen them.”

“I don’t get out a lot.”

“‘Cause you’re hated?” You ask, a wicked tone laced in your words. Adam responds by  mocking your voice with the same question. You scoff with a smile on your face. “I wonder why, if you’re such a peach.”

“Go fuck yourself.”

It’s silent. And you watch as the bartender grabs your drink, leaving the coaster behind. A memory of drinking with Lucifer pops into your head- his honeyed smile as he pours you a glass of wine that you would have never been able to afford, to even be aware of such a delicacy that existed in Hell. Never would he have taken you to some dingy bar where less than savory individuals reside. 

You’ve been taken care of. Pampered and adored for a considerable amount of time, before all the light had dimmed. You should have never allowed yourself to get used to such treasures. You glance over at Adam, and wonder if he can understand. “Do you come here often?” You ask him, crossing your arms over the bar. He chokes on his drink and slams the bottle down. He gives you a bewildered stare and you raise your shoulders defensively. “What? I’m just asking,” you say. “The bartender looks like he knows you.” You catch the bartender’s eyes and he quickly looks away. “Or at least enough to keep a tab open.”

“There’s not much to do around here,” he answers.

You fill your cheeks with air and let it slowly blow out through pursed lips. There's plenty to do- sort of. Minus the drugs and sex, most of Hell's greatest features are stuck in other rings. “There’s the Cannibal Sector,” you offer. “You gotta be careful but Rosie is nice and she sells pretty things. I have this hairpin in the shape of a human hand.” Adam gives you a look. “It might be a real hand, huh.”

“The fuck are you even doing out of your castle.”

You deflate. “Rough night,” you say with a sigh. “What about you?”

“Rough night,” he answers

You nod in solidarity. “I’m not usually a drinker,” you confess. “The taste is a bit too bitter for my liking. But being at the castle just wasn’t-” it’s not for you, the pampered life, acting as a placeholder, the King- “I didn’t want to be there.”

When Adam fails to say anything else, you feel embarrassed to even say something like that to the former angel beside you. He wouldn’t care. He shouldn’t care. Why would he ever worry himself over the likes of you, when your supposed partner couldn’t. He sniffs, and places the bottle down. It’s nearly empty. 

“Where do you want to be then?” His eyes are still golden, unblinking as he stares. 

Gold meets your own eyes, and you flicker to the horns over his head, curling overhead much like his former exorcist mask. You look back at his eyes, at the way he holds the bottle loosely. “I don’t know,” you confess. 

There’s a moment of silence, and he finishes the last bit of alcohol. You wonder how many he usually drinks before he goes back home. “You wanna come over?” He asks, and there’s a shade darker that brushes against his cheeks, and he tries to ask nonchalantly, but he toys with the words, and he swallows too harshly for him to not be worried about your answer. As if he’s asking some forbidden question. But, you’re lonely, and you don’t want to be alone in a bar longer than you already have been. 

You look at the exit, half-hoping that Lucifer would be there, ready to take you to his home, and a part of you is glad that he isn’t there. You look back at Adam, and nod your head. “Lead the way,” you tell him.

The sound of the bartender yelling behind you about a tab, has you smiling, feeling as if you’re dining and dashing despite you having paid for your portion. Adam doesn’t seem to care, walking without breaking a stride, just waving his hand without looking back. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re climbing up steps that need to be looked at, rust falling off with each bounce. You’re sure that you can hear something unsavory going on in a room, but a whistle from Adam has you scurrying along. There’s no reason that you should know anything more than you already do. 

You enter his apartment, and take a careful look around. It’s messy- clothes strewn across, dishes left out, and you feel pity for him. A single couch is close enough to the rather small television, a coffee table that has paint chipping and dents is one of the few pieces of furniture in the rooms. A sliding door is closed, a few broken blinds giving you just a glimpse into the outside. “You certainly,” you pause, trying to find something nice to say, “have a place,” you end defeatedly. You stand near the door, clicking the lock into place, as if that would protect you from any dangers out in the world. Perhaps you should be worried about Adam, about the angel who would bear his fangs and be drenched in blood, too excited about senseless murder. But you catch him kicking things under the couch, trying to spruce up the place even if just by a smidge.

“Fuck you,” he says without conviction. He grabs at a pile of clothes and tosses it on top of a chair, leaving the couch clear for you and him to sit. Smiling softly, you take a seat. He places himself close to the arm rest, and watches as you look around. “I uh, I clean- sometimes.” He sounds unsure of himself.

“I like cleaning,” you tell him, grabbing at a magazine on the worn out coffee table. It’s some tabloid, and you see a snippet of you and Lucifer in the corner. You turn to the page where you two are supposed to be. It’s titled as “Issues at Home?” You frown, and turn to another page. “I like organizing and stuff. Um, it helps uh, Lucifer. He does a lot of projects.”

“You don’t got any?”

“I have hobbies, but they come and go.” Your eyes skim the page, talking about Velvette’s new clothing line. You pull your lips into a thin line, a part of you wants to wear her outfits, but you aren’t sure you could pull them off. “It’s all just-” you flutter a hand in the air- “you know, stuff.” You place the magazine back on the table. “What about you?”

He smiles and leans back on the couch, the cushion creasing under his weight. “I like to play the guitar.” You perk at the mention, and watch as he rests his hands over his stomach. “I was in a band. Played the guitar, got all the chicks that I wanted.”

“Were you good at the guitar?”

He nods his head. “Oh, you should’ve fucking seen me. I was like a fucking god on stage.” He holds his hands out and mimics a guitar. You huff out a laugh, and watch as he lets his hands fall. “I got to fuck whoever I wanted. And I mean, who wouldn’t want to fuck me? Look at me.” he tosses you a lazy look, matched with a sly smile, and you can see how people would be attracted to him. “I was the first dick– of course, everyone wanted me.”

“What songs would you perform?”

“Rock mostly.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Crowd went wild.”

“You’d perform in heaven?”

He shrugs. “Most of the time. If I felt bold, sometimes the band and I would do a show on Earth. I’m telling you humans would just throw themselves at you, begging to be fucked in some grimy ass restroom.”

You scrunch your nose. “Sounds gross.”

“It was,” he says with a faltering smile. He cocks his head to the side, and there’s a softness to his words. “Gross as shit, but the girls were hot.” 

You cross your ankles together, and turn to face him. Your arm cushions itself between the couch and your head to watch him. “Do you not play anymore?” you ask hesitantly,

He sucks on his bottom lip, teething at the skin, before letting it go. “I haven’t tried to summon my harp- guitar- shit, thing, since I’ve been here.” He closes his hands into a loose fist and kicks his legs up on the beaten coffee table. “There’s this pawn shop a few streets down, and they have this guitar for sale.”

“Are you thinking about buying it?”

“I have other shit to worry about.” He gives you a look, a fleeting sense of  exhaustion and acceptance that washes over him, that makes him feel a bit more real, a bit more like you. “It isn’t even that good.” He sounds like a child, trying to justify something to themselves. “It’s beat up, and the strings are probably worn-” he shakes his head- “it's not worth it.” You open your mouth to reassure him that it probably is worth it. That despite the condition that it’s in and the price for it, if he wants it, it's worth it. Even if he could never play it, even if it’ll never be restored to its original beauty, it would be his. You only manage to suck in a gulp of air, when a knocking at the balcony door grabs your attention. “Some fucking bird that keeps bothering me.” He looks over at you, and glances back to the door, and back at you. “I have a balcony. Wanna sit outside?”

You nod quickly, closing your mouth. “Yeah.” 

He walks past the door, and leaves it open for you. Just like when you entered, you close the door behind you, half-heartedly hoping that it won’t lock behind you. His balcony holds two chairs- both different kinds and both equally as rough looking. A part of you wonders where exactly he got this furniture. There’s a dying plant shoved in the corner, the leaves brown and stem wilting under the weight of the dying leaves. 

“Quit judging,” he snips. 

You scoff, a smile teasing at the corner of your lips. The air of Hell is cool, wind breezing over your skin and you stare down into the streets, watching as Imps and Sinners live their lives, peacefully uninterrupted. Sitting down, your breath hitches when the chair dips under your weight. It’s quiet between the two of you, silence in each other’s company where you both just stare at the world in front of you. 

You can see the holy light from the embassy, and you can see Heaven’s light- the rings that are protected by wings. It lights up the night sky far better than the pentagram ever has, and sitting under the light of it, makes you wonder if anything is different in Heaven since Adam’s death- or rather, reincarnation. “Do you miss Heaven?” You ask, before you can register the weight of the words that it holds. You turn to him, almost scared of any answer that he would give.

“That’s a stupid question,” he spits out. You don’t respond, and you stay looking at him. He turns his head to avoid your gaze, his legs stretching out in front of him. After a beat of silence, he looks ahead of him. “Yeah,” he breathes out. “I do.”

“What do you miss about it?”

“Full of fucking questions, aren’t ya?” He stays silent, and after a moment, he lets out a soft sigh. “Everything.”

“There’s not many stories about Heaven down here. You know, minus the ones that we all know. The golden gates-”

“Pearly gates,” he corrects. You look at him, and he has his eyes casted down. “They’re pearly.”

“The pearly gates,” you correct, “the clouds, the happiness and peace. I just- Other than that, there’s nothing else to go off of. But I guess, why would I know. Heaven seems so far away, like some mythical place.”

“Your boyfriend doesn’t talk about it?” Adam asks with a sneer.

“No,” you answer without hesitation. “He doesn’t like talking about Heaven. Sometimes-” you lick your lips- “Sometimes it feels like he hates everything and everyone down here. Like he can’t stand the idea that he’s stuck here.” You scratch your neck, and pinch your legs together. “It’s like the memories of Heaven are too painful.”

“That magazine said y’all were breaking up.”

“Maybe,” you answer.

“You can talk about it if you want. Would make this night a helluva lot more interesting.” You look at him. “I’m all ears.”

“And horns,” you tease.

“Fuck you,” he says with an impish tone.

You smile, and kick out your legs. Your phone buzzes, and with hope, you believe that it’ll be Lucifer. Your heart sinks when it’s only a notification from Sinstagram. With a frown, you silence your phone. “In the beginning, it was easy to forget that he was married. I mean, I always knew. He has her portraits hanging, and he talks about Charlie constantly.” You smile bitterly and scratch at your phone case. “I don’t blame him for that, but-” you shrug- “it hurts knowing that he still clings to her.” When Adam stays silent, you continue. “He can be kind- real attentive and sweet. But sometimes, when he’s had a uh-” you struggle to find a word- “a bad day, he gets real low. And I hate to admit it, but he gets clingy and it’s nice to know that I can still serve him in some way.”  Your fingers pinch at the bridge of your nose, and you let your hand cover your mouth. “But then, there are moments, where it feels like he’s actually looking at me- where he’s just everything,” you say wistfully, your hand stretching out in front of you, clasping around the night air. You glance at Adam, who watches your hand as you pull it back to yourself. “Sorry, I uh, I didn’t mean to ramble.”

“So why’d you leave then?”

Perhaps you’d get a biased opinion- you’re aware of how Adam feels over Lucifer, and practically every other inhabitant of Hell. He thinks of himself above any other, his own pride being the very thing that made him unaware of Niffty running towards him. You chew on your lip, your hand scratching over your neck. You need to speak to someone. No one else at the hotel will ever give you a straight answer- or at least the answer that you want to hear.

With a sigh, you kick your legs out in front of you. “I like Lucifer.” You can feel his eyes on you. “But, sometimes,” you drag the word, and your body feels hot, “it’s like he’s not present in the relationship. He gives a lot, but he hardly ever asks for anything.”

There’s a pause. “What could you even give him?” he asks in sincerity. 

There’s a pang in your chest, wrapping tightly, threatening to crush your bones, and leaving you a battered and broken mess on Adam’s balcony. You can’t give him anything that he doesn’t want. He has his daughter, he had his wife, he has his title for better or for worse. All you can offer is a moment of content, and even then it seems that you can no longer do that.

You shrug your shoulders at an attempt of a weak answer. “I know that he’s still not over his wife. Or ex-wife. I'm not too sure of the title and I hate to ask. He gets all mopey and deflective.” You kick at the ground, and insecurity hugs you tightly, and drips into your words. “He stares at portraits of her, and well, it’s hard to compete with the literal Queen of Hell, when I’m just-” your jaw stiffens, and you look at the ground through blurring eyes- “me.” You stand in her shadow without even having met her. “Even when I dress up, I feel like a child playing pretend. I don’t- I’m not like her.” You’ve stared at her portraits that still hang in the palace, and they consume you. Her smile, her delicate hands, and the elegance that is so evident in portraits.  It feels childish to compare yourself to someone so regal and poised. 

“Yeah,” he sighs. “My ex was pretty hot.” Your eyes widen, and you turn to him. “They both were.” He lets out a sigh, and keeps his eyes fixed in front of him.

“Adam,” you squeak out. “I’m sorry.” You shake your head, blood rushing to your face, making your body uncomfortably warm. “I hadn’t meant- I didn’t mean to talk about her with you. I’m so sorry.”

“The fuck are you apologizing for?” He asks, eyes narrowed and mouth twisting to an ugly sneer.

You cross your arms over your chest, bringing them to an ‘X’ where your hands curve over your biceps. “It’s just that I’m talking about Lucifer and your ex-wife.” You frown when he gives you an ugly look. “I just- I wasn’t thinking. I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

He gives a shrug of his shoulders, his gaze still focused elsewhere. “Lucifer already talked shit about how he banged both of them. It's whatever.”

Your brows furrow, and you watch as Adam pats his pockets, fisting a hand into one of his pants pockets. He fishes out a pack of cigarettes, grabbing on and sticking the tan end of it into his mouth. He motions the carton at you, and you pull your mouth into a thin line. 

“If you're gonna bitch about smoking, you're one lame sinner.”

“Eve? He slept with Eve, too?”

“Oh shit.” The cigarette hangs between his teeth, until pulls it back into his mouth. “You didn't know.” He almost sounds apologetic. He grabs at a lighter and it takes a few clicks to light the white of the stick.

“He doesn't really talk about his sex life before me.” You slump further into yourself, your nails scratching over your skin. “It's in the past. I know I shouldn't be hurt over what he's chosen to share with me, but-” you toss your head back, and in the red sky, the stars are dim. “I don’t know. It just feels like another kick on a shitty night, ya know?”

“I’m shitty?” He almost sounds offended. 

“No, no” you shake your head. “If anything, you’re like the one good thing out of this night.”

“Yeah, well, you ain’t so bad yourself.” You turn to him, your head cocked to the side. “You got a nice body. If you weren’t stuck here, I would’ve bagged you already.” You stretch your lips thin, and Adam shrugs, blowing out a puff of smoke.  “You’re easy on the eyes.”

“Thanks Adam,” you say hesitantly. He holds out the cigarette towards you and you wave your hand. “I’m good.”

“So what now? You gonna go back to him?”

“I don’t even think he knows that I’m gone,” you say honestly. The confession makes you feel lighter than you thought it would. “It’s comfortable with him. It’s easy- I don’t have to worry about things, but, I also don’t have to worry about anything. And sometimes, I want to worry. I want him and I to argue about dumb shit, and I want to worry if he’s coming to bed or not, and not being resigned to the fact that I know he won’t.”

The silence is broken by the scraping of the chair, and you watch as he rises, stretching his arms above him, the cigarette pinched between his fingers. “Eve tolerated me,” he says quietly, letting out a breath of smoke. You look at him, biting at the inside of your cheeks. “She loved me for a while. She was devoted to me. But I uh- I’m pretty sure that was because she was made from me.” A hand cups over his side. “Blind loyalty or whatever. But when she bit that apple, whatever she felt for me was gone.” He speaks quietly, and slowly, as if the words and the thoughts of it were slowly piecing themselves together, a puzzle that he had long put away in order for it to never make sense. “She didn’t care what I did as long as I left her and the-'' someone below lets out a scream, and Adam turns to you, his face flashing a moment of vulnerability before he looks away and puts out the cigarette under his boot. “Well, Eve was Eve.” His brows soften, and he looks tired. “I didn’t tolerate her.”

“Meaning?” You ask quietly.

He shrugs. “I did love her. She had a part of me after all.” He looks over at you, and his hand tightens over his side, pulling at the fabric. “But that’s not important anymore.” He turns away, and walks back inside. You scurry after him, making sure to lock the balcony door behind you.

You stand awkwardly in the room, unsure of what to do next. Truth be told, you had planned to spend the night in some dingy motel if Adam hadn’t sat beside you. But now you’re here, in his dingy apartment, truths and insecurities laid out for the two of you to bear witness. A part of you wants to bid him goodnight, and maybe when you’d see him out in the streets, you’d give him a  cordial nod, and remember how he listened and talked about his ex-wife, and he’d remember you in positive light, despite you only being a mess of insecurities wrapped in sin. 

But now, you don’t want to leave. At least a part of you wants to continue this conversation, to keep the comfort wrapped tight around you. You tap your foot against the ground and Adam looks at you, his eyes staring at yours, unwavering from yours. You hadn’t realized just how powerful he stood beforehand. 

“You can stay if you want,” he says slowly, unsure of the words that he’s saying. “Take the couch or whatever,” he attempts to sound indifferent, but you can hear the sincerity in the words, uncomfortable, but sincere. “I got a spare blanket you can use.” His teeth are sharp, and they peek out to tease at his bottom lip.

“Really?” You ask, eyes wide and you take a step forward, and he looks away. “I can?”

His mouth thins into a grimace, and he gives a forced shrug. “Do whatever you want.”

You look at the couch. It wasn’t uncomfortable to sit on, but you’re sure you’ll wake up with a sore back. However, you don’t want to go back to Lucifer, and you don’t want to go to some dingy motel where you’re sure you’ll drink until you’re sick. Looking back at Adam, you nod, a smiling teasing at the corners of your lips, and he finally looks away from you.

“Yes!” You clear your throat. “Yes,” you say in a softer tone. “I’d like that. Thank you, Adam.”

“Whatever.” He walks into his bedroom, and you sit on the couch. He returns with a blanket, and he stands at the end of the couch, looking at you. “I’m not making you breakfast or anything. You gotta figure that shit out on your own.” You nod. The only real worry that you have is that your phone’s battery is at an uncomfortable percentage that you aren’t sure is going to last you.

“I hope Hell is nice for you.” He raises his brows at you. “It’s shitty and the smell of decay is always kinda there, but sometimes, it’s nice down here.”

“Hell is supposed to suck.”

“And it does,” you say with a shrug. “But not all the time, Ads.”

“Don’t call me that.” He tosses a blanket at you- it’s thin and threads have begun to unravel at the seams, but it’s soft. “I’m turning off the lights.”

“Goodnight,” you call out, holding the blanket close to you. You can only smile when the response is a closed door.  

#hazbin hotel #adam x reader #hazbin adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin adam #hh adam #im writing for him alot #also!!! #mammon is coming back?? #my king?? #my one and only?? #th sin that i apparently fall for every damn time?? #im blessed #i wanna see him #i miss my beloved #i'll get to some requests next week #jst because i have finals #so i see yall #and ill get there one day #next week for sure

[tojiscursedtool]

Hellooo, can you make a ftm! Reader x Toji comfort where reader has been feeling down due to dysphoria and feels he’s not enough for Toji and Toji notices this and comforts him abt it?

Feel free to delete/ignore this! :3

Also, i lof ur writings

⋆˚࿔ 🌊 . 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Note ~ of course! Thank you so much, I’m glad you like them! (^○^) DM me if you want any changes or smth please! I just wrote off what I thought would be short and sweet💔

MENTIONS — Fluff/Comfort, SFW, FTM!Reader, body dysmorphia, overthinking.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

You and Toji had plans to go out to a friend of yours party, it wasn’t anything major just a hangout for friends. As you were getting ready you looked at yourself in the mirror, placing your hands on your face feeling..icky about yourself. You began judging yourself, feeling like you didn’t look manly enough, how you felt like you didn’t fit into the male standards. You then began to start overthinking if Toji even loved you for you or if he thought you were just some ‘girl’ and not really a man. You were thinking the worst as those thoughts started to flood your head.

As you looked at yourself once more you viewed your body and even tried talking to yourself to hear your voice, you felt like you didn’t sound like a man enough. Like you weren’t enough for Toji in general, you sat on the floor burying your face into your hands as big tears fell down onto your hands. You were crying..shit after all that effort of getting ready to..that didn’t really matter to you though, you just wanted to be reassured that you were just over thinking and that you are a man. You are something.

To Toji you are his everything, you may not think it or may think poorly on yourself but he really does love you. You didn’t notice it until you felt Toji behind you wrapping his arms around you laying his head on your shoulder, he was looking at you with a slightly concerned voice but he suddenly spoke in a calm quiet tone, “hey, it’s okay. ‘m here, tell me what’s wrong.” He’d bring you in a tight embrace looking at you waiting for a response, he didn’t rush you but he wanted to know what was wrong with his boyfriend so he sat there patiently holding you into his arms as you then spoke in a awfully quiet, bothered, sad tone..

“I just uh..I don’t feel like i’m right. I feel out of place. My body I mean..I uh..” you paused mid sentence looking down, your breath was a bit shaky as you were still crying trying to keep your composure. You opened your mouth to speak once more but nothing came out, your mouth was left open, agape. He was also quiet, you then broke the silence by explaining how you felt, “I feel like you don’t really view me as a man like..no one does. I just look at myself and feel so disappointed. It’s tiring.” You slowly looked up at him, “I’m not good enough for you, I feel like I don’t really belong I’m just here for..no reason?”

The room was quiet for a few minutes after you had spoke, he gave you some time to think and calm down a little before he spoke softly. “No reason? I love ya’ very much, Y/N. Looking at you makes me happy knowing I’m dating such a handsome man.” He brushed your hair out of your face as he wiped any tears you had on your face, “I don’t care what ya’ are or want to be, I’ll b’ here for you. I don’t tend to say it much..I show it through action more than my words.” He loosened himself around you as he stood up and helped you get up, he looked at you with a serious genuine look, “we don’t have to attend that party with your friend, I want to spend time with you, is that okay?”

You nodded looking at him with a slight smile feeling a bit better but had some doubts about yourself but before you could even finish your thoughts he spoke up again just to reassure you to make sure he didn’t miss anything, “you are very worth it to me, I assure you there ‘s nothing wrong with ya’, you are just feeling doubt and down about yer’self and I understand. Though I may not understand yer struggle I understand it can be hard for you. And that’s perfectly fine, but you aren’t a girl, I don’t see you that way, at all.” He placed his hand on the side of your face and then kissed your cheek.

✦•┈๑⋅⋯ ⋯⋅๑┈•✦

#male!reader #jjk x male reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #x reader #ftm reader #ftm!reader #jjk x ftm reader #toji x ftm!reader #toji x you #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #comfort #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jujutsu toji #jjk fluff #fluff

[kittysoonie]

Fighting Heat with Heat

Non! idolHoshi x Fem!Reader - 1k words

It's burning hot outside while you're apartment AC isn't working and what's better than fighting heat with heat?

Established relationship, slight attempt at humour, smut

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

It's so hot, it must be atleast 50 degrees outside and your apartment unit decided that today was the day that repairs needed to be done causing all electricity to be out for the day.

You sigh dramatically as you fall on the bed where your boyfriend is currently

sprawled on.

"Soonieee." You whine out, "it's so hot." You finish with another sigh.

"I know baby but they said only a few more hours and the electricity will be back." He coos at you, swiping his thumb on your cheek as you push his hand off.

"It's too hot to be so close together." You mutter out.

"*I know.." he mumbles in response.

You watch as he reaches for the hem of his loose tank top and takes it off.

You swipe your tongue on your lips as your eyes follow his movements. He's become so much more built in the last few months, the daily trips to the gym are definitely paying off you think. There's no longer any shame as you lay flat on your stomach eyeing your boyfriend, who's no longer the awkward loser you met five years ago.

You're lost in your thoughts while soonyoung's been watching you eye him for the past few minutes.

"Hey?" He chuckles lifting your face, "eyes are up here baby." He finishes with a shit eating grin.

"Wasn't even looking..." you mumble in response, having little to no confidence in your own response.

"yeah right" he snorts, "thought it was too hot for us to be so close together?" He hums out with a raise of his eyebrows.

"Well it was too hot until you basically threw yourself onto me. You scrunch your nose as you inch closer to him, practically sitting on his lap.

"Is that so?" He says softly as he leans for a messy and sloppy kiss.

You moan while he pulls you onto his lap, trying to get you two as physically

close as he can. Your hands run up and down his hard abs and you drool just at the thought of them.

He slowly pulls away as you whine at the sudden loss of contact, bucking your hips onto his as you watch the pool of slick grow more visible through your shorts. He lets out a sound of disappointment, holding down your hips, "fuck...if you keep that up I'll cum in my boxers like a little teenage boy." And you blush at the thought of having that sort of effect on your boyfriend even after years of being together.

"Weren't you feeling hot baby? Don't you wanna take all this off?" He asks a rhetorical question, pulling your (his) shirt off leaving you in your bra only. His lips are once again on yours as his hands chase your back, expertly unclasping your bra.

"If I put my hand down your shorts, are you gonna be wet for me baby?" He asks with a cocky expression and you can hear the smirk in his voice as you hum in response.

His hands quickly move down your shorts, erupting a loud moan from you as his fingers make their way to your clit, rubbing at the right pace. He knows you and your body too well.

"'Gosh you're so cute...look at your little reactions." Soonyoung says taking in your fucked out expressions.

"Can barely take my fingers..think you can take my cock?" He asks and you almost punch him for teasing you when he knows you can take it. You've done it many times before.

"I can.."" you barely mutter the words.

"'Can't hear you baby." He hums out, increasing the pace of his fingers as you ride his fingers.

"'Said I can take it Soonie!" You shout out louder.

"I know you can princess, gonna cum for soonie now? Gonna make a mess all over my fingers." You nod enthusiastically in response as you ride out your high.

He carefully lays you down on your back as he slips out off his boxers, pulling your shorts and underwear in one go.

You watch as his cock leaks of precum and you gulp at the thought of taking it all.

""Look at this" he starts, "so fucking wet for me...all for me." He says while licking his lips.

"God you're so fucking beautiful..ready for me baby?" He asks as you nod in response.

"I need words baby." He almost demands, this is one thing that has always been so sweet about soonyoung, no matter how many times and how long the two of you have been together he always makes sure you're ready and have given him full consent.

"'Yes soonie 'm ready, wanted this all day." You moan out.

"I know you have baby, been waiting for soonie to fuck you good all day haven't

you?" He smirks as he sinks his cock into your wet cunt, watching as his dick

slips in and out of you.

"Faster."" You whine and he complies, who is he to say no to his princess?

You grab the back of his hair as you moan louder, feeling the familiar feeling in

the pit of your stomach.

"Baby 'm about to cum." You stretch out your words as your orgasm approaches.

""Yeah baby? Cmon then, be a good girl and come for me." You let go with his words, shaking with your orgasm he feels his coming too.

"Where do you want me baby?" He asks, slowing down his pace.

"Inside soonie please need to feel you in me." He curses under his breath as he lets go with a final thrust, your words pushing him over the edge. He rolls on his side as he pulls out, your sticky sweaty bodies still intervened with each other. You look at him meekly as he takes your hand into his.

"Fighting heat with heat wasn't the best idea was it." He awkwardly chuckles as you laugh in response to his sudden shyness.

"I'm all gross and sticky now." You shake your head as you feel the heat catching up to you again.

And as if it's on cue, your fan turns on by itself as you both dramatically turn to look at each other.

"THE AC SOONYOUNG TURN IT ON." You shout as he rushes to get the remote.

ฅ^•ﻌ•^ฅ

This is my first ever fic lol so sorry if it's not super good, requests are open and all feedback is appreciated!

Masterlist

#seventeen #hoshi #kwon soonyoung #hoshi x reader #hoshi x you #hoshi x y/n #hoshi smut #hoshi fluff #hoshi fanfic #kwon hoshi #soonyoung x reader #svt soonyoung #soonyoung fluff #soonyoung smut #soonyoung scenarios #seventeen smut #seventeen scenarios #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #seventeen x reader #seventeen x you #seventeen x y/n #horanghae

[natimiles]

I really like it (Roger x reader)

Summary: In a cozy morning after, you and Roger play with each other’s hair.

Words: 568

Tags: scenario; established relationship; fluffy; pet names; lazy morning; female reader.

Notes: and with this I seal my destiny as a Roger’s lover. It turned out to be a mini series. I divided it into chapters that can be read separately. This is part 3 (final). To read more, check out my masterlist or Freya’s masterlist for her event.

For @judejazza Follower Event: An Invitation To Crown — prompt: playing with hair

Congrats on your 300 followers! 🤍🤍

You woke up to a faint touch on your jaw, sliding up your face to ghostly circle the area around your eyes, then moving to the bridge of your nose... and back to your jawline. Scrunching up your nose, you mumbled something unintelligible. A soft laugh immediately followed your reaction, and you frowned slightly, forcing yourself to flutter your eyes open.

The smiling face of your boyfriend was the first thing you saw, and then he was kissing you the next second.

“Roger!” You giggled when he pulled back. “Good morning to you too.”

“Good morning, my dear,” he whispered. “I just wanted to wish you a good day. I need to—”

“No, you don’t,” you said, throwing your leg over him. You knew he could easily disentangle himself from you and leave, but you took advantage of the soft spot and the love he had for you.

“Darling…”

“It’s still early, isn’t it?”

“Yes, and you can sleep a little more.”

“No, I won’t accept it. Stay just a little longer,” you pouted. “And you woke me up, so you have to take responsibility.”

“Do I now?” he laughed, then sighed in defeat. He was no match for you when you acted this cute and clingy. “Alright, then.”

His hand moved to your hair, softly curling strands around his fingers, and then watching as they fell. You returned the gesture, reaching for his hair and twirling it around your fingers — or trying to, since his hair was so short. However, you didn’t really mind; you just wanted to caress him too.

Roger looked at your face for a moment, drinking in your entranced gaze while your fingers slowly went up his head and brushed his short bangs on his forehead. How you smoothed down his tuft of rebellious hair, trying to tame it and keep it down, a thoughtful hum leaving you.

“What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You blinked in confusion for a second, then realized you probably hummed aloud — not really loud, but enough for your boyfriend with a hearing ability.

“Nothing much, just… Your hair.”

“What about it?” He frowned. He was used to people saying that he should change his hairstyle. This one was practical, and he honestly never really thought about changing it. But if you wanted... He could consider the thought. He wouldn’t promise he would actually let it grow, but—

“I really like it,” you said. Your gaze shifted and met his, and he could see how sincere you were. “Even these stubborn sprouts that don’t stay in place.” Your eyes slightly squinted as your smile grew.

“Mmm… and I really like you,” he grinned.

You let out a feigned indignant gasp. “Just like?”

“I wonder…” He pretended to really think about his answer, and you slapped his arm. He laughed softly, in a genuinely happy way he reserved only for these moments with you. “I love you, my lil’ lady.”

“And I love you too.”

He pecked your lips and pulled you closer, hugging you tight against his body. Your face crushed against his chest, and you nestled into the curve of his neck, a soft and happy giggle escaping you.

His fingers quickly reached for your hair, starting to play with it again. With his heart beating a happy rhythm along with yours, Roger let himself have a cozy and calm morning with you, closing his eyes again.

Masterlists

#invitation2crowncc #ikemen villains #ikevil #ikevil roger #ikevil roger barel #ikevil writings #ikevil fanfics #ikevil scenarios #ikemen villains roger #ikemen villains fanfics #ikevil x reader #ikevil roger x reader #ikemen villains x reader

[charmandabear]

18 for the smut ask game 😈 Astarion x Reader or Astarion x any OC of your choice 😩

oh fuck yes

From @astarionfreak's smut ask game.

18. "I'm not going to beg." "Oh but you will."

This was supposed to be a short little drabble and then became a multi-day writing exercise 😭 I have a few more of these sitting in my inbox, so they'll be coming out eventually.

Note: I'm experimenting with writing the characters in Office Hours in third rather than second person. This isn't canonical, just me banging my dollies together to see what happens lol. But yes, in theory, Rosalind is Tav from Office Hours, if just slightly modified. She is also explicitly plus sized (which I plan to do in the edited version once OH is done.)

"I'm not going to beg," Astarion smirks, looking up at Rosalind over his glasses while his hands rest on her plush thighs straddling his lap. He leans against the back of the couch with unearned confidence.

"Oh, but you will." She ghosts her lips over his as she runs her fingers through the silvery curls at the back of his head. She grinds her hips against his, but his expression gives little away. Her only indication that he's struggling to remain stone-faced at all is the slight quaver in his breath. She captures his lips in hers, keeping the kiss languid and sensual. His hands travel up her hips and over the swell of her ass, resting on her lower back. She presses her tits into his chest, breathing deeply to push them into him further. She slides her hands down his neck, gently grazing against his earlobe and delighting in the subtle buck of his hips.

"Cheating," he murmurs into the kiss, and Rosalind's lips curl into a smile.

"Then you should have said something beforehand," she hums back, and her hands continue their journey down to his collar and begin to undo the buttons of his shirt. She fails to keep her own desires in check as she gets more desperate with each button. Her kisses grow frantic and his fingers dig into her ass, pulling her harder into his lap. When the last button slips through its hole, she roughly grabs his collar and yanks him off the couch to follow her lead. "Bedroom, now." Her voice is almost a growl and Astarion chuckles in response.

Rosalind continues to pull him backwards through her apartment and into her bedroom. She pushes him back onto the bed and peels off her shirt as he scoots himself into the center of her queen-sized mattress. She settles herself between his legs and dives down to plant sloppy kisses across his stomach. He slides his hand into her hair as she unbuckles his pants and flashes him a mischievous smile before pulling them down under his ass. He may have been able to keep his cool through her ministrations, but his cock standing fully erect tells a different story. She can feel her pussy clench instinctively as she thinks about sliding herself down on him. But not yet. He needs to beg for it first.

She leans forward onto her elbows with her ass in the air and flicks her gaze up towards Astarion, who studies her carefully. She runs a slow stripe up his shaft with the tip of her tongue and watches for the change in his breathing. She gently takes his tip in her mouth and swirls her tongue around it, gathering enough spit for her to take a hand and slide it down his length. He hisses lightly and his hands tighten in her hair.

"Hmm, you like that, don't you?" she whispers while slowly pumping his shaft with her hand.

"I- ah- I think I'm allowed to enjoy a blowjob from my girlfriend," he retorts in what's almost certainly a shakier voice than he intended. "I just said I wasn't going to beg."

"We'll see about that," Rosalind snickers and takes him back in her mouth, working the underside of his cock with her tongue. He grunts as he slams his fist down on the bed with a soft thump. She begins to twist her hand around the base of his cock as she bobs her mouth up and down the head. His hips twitch, like he's trying desperately to keep them still and failing. She reaches her other hand up and gives his balls a light squeeze, earning the softest moan in response.

She pulls away suddenly and he snaps his gaze to her at the loss of contact. She watches him smugly as she unhooks her bra and releases her impressive tits to hang down and ever so lightly brush against the head of his cock. He bites down on his lip, breathing growing more rapid as she lowers herself down and pins his cock between his stomach and her breasts.

"Gods, fuck," he groans, letting his head fall back onto the bed. She squeezes her tits around his length and strokes him, giving his tip a little lick when it pokes through her cleavage. Rosalind watches Astarion carefully as his erratic breaths wrack through his chest. She wraps her lips back around the head of his cock and takes him in as far as she comfortably can. She begins to suck lightly and his legs squeeze against her sides in response.

Once she feels that he's sufficiently worked up she pulls away and she's certain he's going to deny the little whimper that escapes his lips. She stands and slips out of her skirt, tights, and panties in one easy motion. He cranes his neck up to see where she's gone and she laughs.

"Someone's eager," she coos, crawling back onto the bed and straddling his hips. She lets her belly graze across his cock and he shudders, squeezing his eyes closed.

"I'm in complete control," he huffs without opening his eyes. She brings her face to his, hovering their lips inches apart.

"It's okay if you're not," she breathes, and his furrowed brow relaxes ever so slightly. "I've got you, I won't let you fall." She closes the distance and kisses him softly, and after a moment of tension he melts and wraps his arms around her neck.

She breaks the kiss and presses her forehead against his. "Are you still up for the challenge?" Her voice is still quiet but there's just a note of mischief. He takes off his glasses and rubs the bridge of his nose. Then he opens his eyes and the corners of his mouth pique upwards ever so slightly.

"I am if you are," he says in a low rumble that he knows drives Rosalind crazy. She nips his bottom lip and takes his glasses out of his hand, placing them neatly on the bedside table. Then she lowers her hips to drag her folds along the length of his cock. He hisses and jerks his hips, then smirks and presses his lips together obstinately.

"Dick," she snickers.

"Yes, I do believe that's- ah- the point," he stutters as she teases the tip of his cock with her cunt again. Her mischievous grin widens as she pulls up on her knees, hovering over his erection.

"Anything to say?" she croons, and he lets out a breathy chuckle.

"Darling, I think you want it more than I do at this point."

"Oh me? I'm doing great." She leans back and rubs her slit along his cock again, letting her arousal coat his length. He keeps his lips pressed tightly together, but she can see a thin sheen of sweat forming on his brow. She continues to grind on his cock, starting to moan as her clit rubs against his wet shaft. He watches her with wild eyes as she gets herself off just by sliding herself along his dick. Her breathing picks up with her pace, whimpering in time with her rolling hips.

"Fuck, Rosalind," he's rasps, and her breath hitches when she hears him say her name.

"Mmf, yes babe?" She's struggling to keep it together just as much as he is, but she's determined to make him crack.

"Ha, you're close, aren't you?" He's panting but he keeps his eyes trained on her.

"Yes, but that wasn't part of the terms," she says hoarsely without slowing her movement.

"But wouldn't it just feel so much better to feel me inside you, my thick cock stretching you out?" he purrs, and she lets out a debaucherous whine.

"If you think so, then you know what you need to do," she says in a strained voice, knowing that she won't actually last much longer herself. She holds fast, and if it means coming on the side of his cock like she's a horny teenager and he's her pillow, so be it. She grinds against him faster, building herself back up to the edge.

"Fucking hells," he groans, letting his head fall back onto the bed. Leaning forward, his tip poised right at her entrance, she puts her lips close to his.

"Yes, hon?" she whispers, and she knows she's already won. He's barely hiding his whimpers anymore.

"I- gods, fuck." His hips thrust up instinctively, but she shifts out of the way.

"Say it, Astarion," she hisses through gritted teeth.

"Rosalind, I- ah-"

She slides her hands into his hair and pulls hard. "Say. It."

"Fuck, Rosalind, please. Please, gods, let me fuck you." His mewling whine is utterly delicious, and they both groan loudly when she drops her hips and sinks onto his cock. He digs his fingers into her thick flesh, thrusting up into her as she slams back down. Moving together like this, it doesn't take long for them to both to reach the precipice. Rosalind pulls Astarion's face into a rough kiss while continuing to furiously ride his dick. He bites on her lip hard enough to draw blood and she moans into his mouth. Once the taste of iron hits both their tongues their orgasms crash down on them in unison, their hips jutting in time as they ride through wave after wave.

They eventually still, panting heavily with their foreheads pressed together. Astarion's eyes flutter open and he kisses Rosalind, tenderly sucking on the wound he made on her lower lip. A light giggle escapes her as she pulls herself off him.

"Told you," she says with a positively insufferable grin.

#smut tag game #office hours #sorta #bg3 smut #astarion smut #baldur's gate 3 smut #astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #astarion x oc #astarion fluff

[ingravinoveritas]

How do you feel about the fact that angels and demons are non-sexual beings in Good omens?

Anon #1: Well, this is a great question and I appreciate you sending it in for me to answer. Including the other Anons here since they are relevant.

I actually have a lot of feelings about angels and demons being non-sexual beings in Good Omens, which I will do my best to explain. I think the first thing I have to do is make sure I understand what you mean by non-sexual. I know Neil has said that angels and demons do not have genitalia "unless they make an effort," so by that measure, we can say angels and demons are genderless beings (agender or genderqueer perhaps as well, depending on the angel or demon). That, to me, is distinctive and not the same thing as non-sexual, which I consider to be beings who--by design or choice--do not engage in sexual intercourse.

The other thing we have to consider is the distinction between book!Good Omens and TV show!Good Omens. I have not finished reading the book, but it is my understanding that Neil (and Terry, of course) established the angels and demons as genderless in the original text. When the show was adapted for television, 30 years had passed since the novel was published, and so much had changed in that time, so a lot of things were updated to have Good Omens more align with the sensibilities of the modern era (one example is Neil talking about Crowley's aesthetic as an early '90s "Wall Street" type and how they had to figure out what the equivalent of that would be in the present day).

One thing that hasn't changed very much, however, is the portrayal of gay/queer people in the media. For much of those intervening 30 years, gay and queer people were shown as stereotypes--flamboyant, one-dimensional caricatures who existed as "sidekicks" (the "gay BFF") or object lessons for the straight characters (I would say this was especially the case in the late '80s and '90s with the AIDS crisis).

By this time, gay and queer people could exist on TV, but only if they were non-sexual/sexless. One example of this is Blanche's brother Clayton on The Golden Girls. After he comes out to Blanche, he brings home his fiance Doug in a subsequent episode, which has Blanche indignant. "I don't really mind Clayton being homosexual, I just don't like him dating men." Another example is Will & Grace, which aired in the late '90s. Will was a gay man who was one of the main characters, but while we constantly saw Grace falling into bed with random men and all sorts of escapades related to her sex life, we were never shown Will in any sort of similar situation. He could be gay, and he could be Grace's BFF, but he couldn't have a sex life of his own. It was this idea that gay people could exist in abstract terms, but not in the concrete reality of what it meant to be gay. Homophobia disguised as "acceptance."

So when I see/hear the word "non-sexual" in relation to gay and queer people, this is what comes to mind. What I also think of is that the absence of gay male sexuality (as for the majority of the show, Aziraphale and Crowley are male-presenting) is not the same thing as the presence of asexuality. I think it's been remarkably easy for Neil to take credit for that when it doesn't seem to have been his actual intention, and it also removes from him the responsibility of portraying that specific aspect of a non-heterosexual love story.

One thing I want to be very clear on is that I am in no way trying to put down anyone's head canon or what any reader or viewer may see in these characters, and I will never say that anyone's head canons are not valid. But when we are talking about the canon--in other words, what is actually on the screen--I feel like there is a tendency to overlook what Michael and David are actually doing with these characters.

In addition to what I mentioned above about gay characters on TV in the '80s and '90s, the other thing you absolutely could not do as a gay or queer person was fall in love. This is alluded to more in the example above from The Golden Girls, where Blanche is horrified that her brother wants to marry a man, until Sophia finally helps her understand:

Blanche: "Oh, look, I can accept the fact that he's gay, but why does he have to slip a ring on this guy's finger so the whole world will know?" Sophia: "Why did you marry George?" Blanche: "We loved each other. We wanted to make a lifetime commitment. Wanted everybody to know." Sophia: "That's what Doug and Clayton want, too. Everyone wants someone to grow old with. And shouldn't everyone have that chance?"

Here we are now, over 30 years later, and some people still don't want everyone to have that chance. Some people think two people of the same sex can't love each other the way a man and a woman do. Because queer love--and especially love between two men--is still looked at as "less than" and inferior to straight love.

This is the world Michael and David grew up in. This is the social and cultural climate they saw and navigated their own sexuality and identity in--'80s Britain, Margaret Thatcher, Section 28. Where being gay or queer wasn't just immoral, it was illegal. Your very existence alone was stigmatized, pathologized, and criminalized. And they are bringing that lived experience into the roles of Aziraphale and Crowley, albeit in different ways.

To me, Michael is playing Aziraphale as a repressed gay man. A man who--much like David--grew up in the faith and was made to believe that his natural feelings, attractions, and desires were wrong, shameful, and disgusting. We see this with Gabriel deriding Aziraphale for eating sushi and enjoying other Earthly pleasures, and it would be logical to think that it's taken a long time for Aziraphale to feel comfortable with the foods/drink/books he likes and the pleasure they bring him. Similarly, it's taken Aziraphale a millennia to find the one being who makes him feel comfortable with the desires he has. The being who is the exception to every rule Heaven ever laid out, who encourages Aziraphale to be himself in every respect. And that's Crowley.

In this scene in the Bastille (which I know has been analyzed a thousand times and a thousand ways), when Aziraphale looks at Crowley like this, the desire rising up in him is more than obvious. The wide eyes, the heaving bosom, and of course the smoldering up-and-down glance all speak to this--he is, quite literally, checking Crowley out, without shame, possibly for the first time ever. Even though that desire is not outwardly expressed in GO season 1, it does not mean it doesn't exist--only that Aziraphale letting himself feel this (and Crowley being the one entity who allows him to feel this) is the first step in a very long journey away from that lifetime of repression.

In terms of Crowley, I feel that David is playing Crowley as a gay man who is afraid of commitment because he has been hurt in the past. There is a feeling of impermanence to Crowley--that, despite being a celestial, immortal entity, he doesn't like to hold onto things because deep down, he believes they will eventually be taken away. He knows who he is, but is all too aware of the consequences that come with it. So he does not get attached, because to him, attachment equals pain, and he believes nothing is worth that risk.

In the church scene in 1941 (which, again, so much has already been said), Crowley saves Aziraphale's books from the wreckage. It's been said by many that Crowley fell in love long before this (which I do think is true), but for me, I feel like this was where we saw that Crowley was truly "attached" to Aziraphale. He rescued Aziraphale from the Bastille, and he saved Aziraphale from the bombs of the Blitz, but in grabbing the books, Crowley isn't just saving Aziraphale's body--he's holding onto a piece of his soul. For the first time ever, Crowley has found something that isn't temporary, and after a millennia of cynicism, Aziraphale is the one entity who makes him feel fully and wholeheartedly ready to commit to something.

This is what I have seen and perceived in the portrayals of Aziraphale and Crowley that Michael and David have given us. I absolutely do 100% believe that asexual folks deserve representation--representation that is clear and specific, not just a side effect of Neil not wanting to show these characters expressing outward sexual desires--but I do not believe that is how Michael and David are playing the characters. It's not enough--or at least it shouldn't be--to have characters of marginalized backgrounds just standing in the room, or to say, "This one's gay," "This one's nonbinary," "This one's asexual." Including these identities in the fabric of the story means doing what Michael and David have done, which is showing these people or beings as three-dimensional, as fully realized characters who happen to have that identity, rather than as ticked boxes representing a certain identity on a checklist.

And to the Anons mentioning the Radio Times article (which seems like it came out a hundred years ago now)--Anon #4 particularly--I appreciate you sharing your thoughts with me, but I could not disagree with you more.

First of all, I have no idea where in the world you got that Aziraphale and Crowley's romance was explicit in season 1, because it was absolutely anything but. Three days after they posted that, RT posted another article seemingly backtracking on everything they'd previously said (as if we'd all somehow pulled a Gabriel Jim and forgotten everything about the first article). The phrase "Could romance be on the cards after all?" is in the bloody headline of article #2, which to me says that RT is going to go in whichever direction the wind blows--to create engagement and generate clicks--but also that it is very clear what they meant by "conventional" in the first article. I do not get the feeling that Radio Times--a mainstream publication that seemingly publishes any story they can farm from social media--was thinking of ace or aro identities or relationships when writing that. Even a tiny little bit.

Even a queer-centric media outlet like Pride today published an article saying the first season of GO lacked LGBTQ+ representation. Obviously, I do not at all agree with this or with several other things mentioned in the article. But what I am challenging folks to do is think about what this is really saying. By the end of GO 1 season, everyone accepts and assumes that Madame Tracy and Shadwell are a couple. She makes eyes at him, they have dinner together, and no one questions them being a couple, even though they are not shown being physically affectionate. Aziraphale and Crowley do exactly the same things, but no one (speaking of the larger public, outside the hardcore fan base) assumes they are a couple.

Maybe what that means, then, is that "representation" that requires you to squint and turn your head in order to see it--like Aziraphale and Crowley holding hands on the bus--isn't really representation at all. And by Neil "not wanting to label" something, it seems to suggest that committing to a label or embracing that gayness is something he is not comfortable with--for any number of reasons--and is why we could have a meaningless love scene with a straight couple that does not have a real connection (Newt and Anathema), but couldn't have a meaningful love scene with a gay couple that does have a devastatingly profound and powerful connection.

So yes, those are my thoughts on the angels and demons in Good Omens being non-sexual, and what that means in a larger cultural/societal sense. I know that when GO season 2 comes out in a week, I could be proven completely wrong about everything I've just said, and I will have no problem with that at all. I fully trust what Michael and David will bring to the roles of Aziraphale and Crowley, but my hesitation stems from the limitations they will potentially be up against, in terms of the script/storyline (and is something I have felt from the interviews we've seen with them this past week).

I'm hopeful for the best, though (as always), so we'll just have to see what happens...

#anonymous #reply post #good omens 2 #good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #michael sheen #welsh seduction machine #david tennant #soft scottish hipster gigolo #creators are not perfect #I think Neil may have some internalized homophobia he is still dealing with tbh #but people are afraid to call him out in any way #and this was me trying to keep my response short #probably going to have to turn off anons for a bit while i answer the rest #dealing with RL stuff at the moment so a bit backed up #discourse

[bravevolunteer]

one thing about me is i WILL yap in replies. and that is a promise

#i would love to be the guy who does quick back and forth short threads but i am a grade A yapper to my core #sometimes i'm contained. but usually 😶 #why exhibit restraint when there are so many little things to point out either for contextualization that only i care about or WILL make me #violently ill huh! it's fun! #anyway it is. 1am. wind down time #will probably finish the movie novel tomorrow at least lmao #⁂ ･ﾟ: i was looking for a job‚ and then i found a job‚ and heaven knows i’m miserable now ➛ ooc #im yet to figure out what my weekend plans are. i've been TRYING to make gift exchange/new years plans but awaiting a response from #one person is keeping the whole thing in the balance lmao #haven't seen friends literally all break and as much of a sit in my room person as i am i think it's giving me brain damage

[kaidabakugou]

GIVE US A KITTEN UPDATE PLS TT

i kept it :)

ik i said i was going to find a good home for her (it’s her for now bc i think it’s a girl but we don’t know yet until we take her to the vet 🥹) but after not finding anyone that wanted her plus arguing with some ppl and family members over it (i’ll rant in the tags about it) i decided to try my best and give her that home myself even though ive never had cats, only dogs my whole life and don’t know the first thing of dealing with cats so it’s gonna be an interesting journey lol

thankfully my dog is obsessed with her and she also warmed up to him quickly so now they spend day and night playing, i have an old play cushion from when my corgi had her babies so they play on it all the time bc if i leave them on the couch for too long they scratch it 😭

vid of them playing under the cut 💗

#kai.answers #user-anon #ill try and be quick with the rant but long story short #i offered it to a couple of ppl and no one wanted the responsibility which i totally understand since it’s a baby so i needs more attention #and i offered it to some family members that i thought would be good bc they’ve had/have cats #plus their dogs grew up with cats so it wouldn’t be a big hassle #but they disagreed and had the audacity to tell me to throw it back where i got it and that pissed me off #bc this kitty was literally thrown out a car window on a rainy evening and was starving for like 2 days until i could catch it #plus it probably was ripped from its mother considering how small it is #and you’re gonna tell me to throw it back out?!? #and some neighbors told me to do the same so i was fuming even more bc how can you be so fkn heartless #sooo i decided to try my best and keep it and ive gone crazy buying everything i could think of to make her comfortable :) #so yeah expect more kitty updates and me randomly asking for kitty parents advice 😅

[strozzaprete]

not to be morbid on main but my life is so strange every day i'm fighting with my inner suicidal child trying to convince her to stay alive out of spite for our enemies

#this entire year ​i've been forced to relive past trauma -> which i'd been able to finally process but it doesn't involve just me #so basically i processed it but my family hasn't and they keep putting the blame on me for everything and guilting me for it #even though i was a literal child. in short the fact that i ''acted out'' by running away from abusive situations was and still is worse #than the actual abusive situations i was put in. as a child. #so like... i can forgive and understand and empathize with my past self at last (instead of feeling suicidal like i did for years) #but if nobody else in my close family circle does then i have to essentially stay strong and remind myself that they're wrong #point is that when i was 11-12 i would react to the emotional and physical abuse by basically putting myself in dangerous situations #and attempting suicide a couple of times lmao. staring at the train tracks every other day #because the fact that they beat me was NORMAL for me (my mom told me that i was 2 the first time my dad hit me) #and they were acting like i was (i quote) ''bipolar'' and mentally ill and acting out out of nowhere and i couldn't fully understand why #i was doing certain things at the time. so i put the entirety of the ''blame'' on myself. and later on my mom would make me feel guilty #about it for a decade to win arguments -> which almost every time start with her gaslighting me until i start crying and yelling so then she #can call me crazy. and she can make ME feel crazy so i won't take her accountable. so she avoids taking responsibility for her actions (past #and present). i finally realized this when i told her that one of the most traumatic events of my life was when she found some smoking #filters in my drawer (she used to go through my stuff all the time) that i was LITERALLY KEEPING FOR A FRIEND and she dragged me out on the #balcony by my hair and beat me. she would beat me in public places all the time to humiliate me. even my school friends remember this #and she said 1) ''it didn't happen'' and 2) ''i don't remember'' #so that's that. either i'm crazy and i fabricated the memory out of nowhere... or she's not taking responsibility for her actions. #and like... I KNOW it happened. but i'm very sensitive to gaslighting (as she does this all the time about other things as well) #and sometimes i literally have to hug myself and rock back and forth and essentially try to convince myself i'm not crazy #that's the situation i'm in rn :) cool #thank god the therapist moved my appointment to tomorrow because i'm about to implode or perhaps ask for money in advance to purchase drugs

[bnuyy]

🪼. .

#ignore ignore im just talking dont worry about me scroll away #but for me #i think worse than feeling ugly is feeling genuinely stupid #i mean feeling ugly is also not feeling very nice right now of course #but still #i feel like i have to try like 40% harder than other people just to understand certain things #i shouldnt have to retake several classes more than once it's wasteful and foolish and proves i am not meant to be here #im glad i realized now at least i shouldnt go to medical school it would kill me #it's not even just school conversations with people are lost on me so often i feel like i cant keep up with people #and i joke about it with friends and family that i'm a little slow and can't manage a lot of adult responsibilities #but this is really what i think makes me feel unlovable and useless #i feel like i have to constantly fake being smarter than i am #and its silly but i think about how im so attracted to men and characters that are super smart and sharp and i feed into my silly fantasies #and then realize they wouldnt ever give me another glance after more than an hour of conversation #i try really hard but it always seems to fall short idk #gosh my period is always just pulling up my deepest and most painful insecurities before she makes her appearance huh ghjfhkl😭 #lord i need to go to sleep i bet when i wake up ill have forgotten ever typing this and feel completely fine 💗

[sugume]

MOMENTS WITH YOUR PREGNANT BELLY w/Jujutsu Kaisen  

( CW ) f!reader, reader is pregnant(duh), tooth-rotting fluff  

Featuring: Gojo Satoru, Toji Fushiguro, Nanami Kento, Geto Suguru 

author's note: short rewrite from my old blog

☾ GOJO SATORU 

"Toru, stop splashing my stomach!" you exclaimed at your playful husband, attempting to push the lukewarm bathwater onto your stomach, inadvertently splashing your face. "But she likes it, look!" he exclaimed with a huge smile as your daughter continued to kick your stomach. "I don’t need to look; I can feel it," you rolled your eyes. "Feels like she’s trying to break my ribs." You let out a little grunt when she kicks a particular spot. Satoru shoots a worried glance at you. "Are you alright?" he asks, rubbing smooth circles on your stomach. "I'm okay; she just keeps kicking the same spot," you gave him a small smile when he leans down to kiss your belly. "Hey now, take it easy on your momma, or no more splashes for you," he mummers to your stomach. As if your daughter understood, she stops and starts gently kicking in another area. "Look, Angel, she listened to me!" he exclaims before pushing more water into your stomach. "Toru! You got water in my nose!" 

☾ TOJI FUSHIGURO 

"Are you okay, beautiful?" Toji inquired, concern evident in his eyes as he observes you holding your stomach with a furrowed expression. "Just a big kick from the baby," you struggle to get out, your stomach contracting. "C'mere--lemme make you feel better, baby," he whispered, sitting up on the headboard of the bed and pulling you between his open legs. "What are you doing, Toji?" You question as your husband reached towards the nightstand to grab something. "Makin’ my girl feel better–just lay down and relax," he whispers in your ear before placing a gentle kiss on your shoulder. With the cramps becoming unbearable, you had no other choice but to obey. Eyes squeezed tight, body resting on Toji’s toned chest, you tense when he starts to gently massage your stomach with what feels like lotion. A moan of relief escaped you involuntarily. "That’s right, let me take care of you," he mummers, continuing the soothing massage. 

☾ NANAMI KENTO 

"Are you ready to taste heaven, babies?" Nanami smiles warmly at your stomach as if expecting your unborn twins to give a response. Quickly, he leans down and places two affectionate kisses on your stomach, one for each baby. "C'mon, Kento, ’m hungry!" you pout, crossing your arms over your chest. Nanami was supposed to be giving you new food items that he found online, but the more he talks, the more it seems like he's eager for his children to be the taste testers rather than you. "You know they can’t actually give you a review, right?" you question your husband, but he ignores your sass and reaches for a plate. "Duh, ‘course I know that, but they're still going to taste it inside of you," he says as if it's the most obvious thing. "Yeah, all mashed up and mixed with a bunch of different foods. Now, give me that plate–I’m hungry!" you insist, reaching out for the plate as your husband laughs. 

☾ GETO SUGURU 

"I don’t think they like me," Suguru grumbles, and you laugh as your unborn child tries and fails to kick their father's head off your stomach. "Hell," Suguru yanks his head up and glares at your protruding stomach. "Hey, don’t cuss at my baby," you laugh. "I wouldn’t have to if my baby wasn’t trying to give me a concussion," he rolls his eyes dramatically before rubbing his calloused fingers on your stomach, The baby kicks at his hand. "Don't be so dramatic, Sugu," you roll your eyes at your husband as he continues to tease your child with his hand. "How do you think I feel when they’re kicking my bladder at three AM?" you laugh. "You better not come out as moody as your mommy," he taunts before pressing a soft kiss on your stomach. "I’ll give you whatever you want when you come out if you let me lay down in peace, deal?" he whispers to your stomach, and all he gets is a harsh kick. "Deserved.” You huff out. 

#𐙚 ࣪ ˖ sugume writes #𐙚 ࣪ ˖ domestic journal #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #jjk #gojo scenario #gojo fluff #kento nanami #nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #nanami fluff #geto suguru #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto x you #geto fluff #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #jjk toji #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushigro x reader #toji fluff