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churipu · 2 months

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SURPRISE COOKIES FOR MAMA 𓆝 ⋆｡𖦹°‧

ִ ࣪𖤐 featuring. nanami kento x female! reader

ִ ࣪𖤐 warnings. both of you have a three year old daughter, broken conversations from your daughter bcs she's a kiddo, i'm leaving all of you to name your daughter.

note. midterm week, i'm going to try uploading, but if i don't, just know that it's not me ignoring my wips or you. love you all mwah <33

"this me!" (daughter) pointed at an old picture of . . . a young you with a blue thin strap floral sun dress posing cutely in front of the camera — a big smile on your face, showing off your pearly whites, "i pretty."

nanami who had his back leaning on the couch could only muster out a soft chuckle, he had his hand on the young girl's small waist to hold her up right; preventing a tumble or two, "that's mama. she looks lovely, doesn't she?"

(daughter) craned her head up to face nanami, her e/c doe eyes blinking, ears unbelieving that the portrait was her mother, "mama? no, this me! i so pretty," she pointed her chubby finger towards the portrait, which is undeniably almost as big as she is.

"mhm, that's mama," nanami caressed his daughter's head lovingly, "you do look a lot like mama, you know?" he whispers, eyeing the portrait (daughter) had laying on her small lap.

half a decade ago — nanami told himself that he isn't fit to be a family man; he swore the both of you talked about kids, and how you'd both wait at least until later on into the marriage. but (daughter) was a surprise pregnancy, and the best thing that has ever happened to the both of you.

"this no mama, this me papa," (daughter) pouts, her soft lips puckering out slightly.

nanami used his free hand to flip the photo album, showing a picture of (daughter) as a newborn. a pink colored bandana around her small head, eyes shut in content, "this is you the day you were born," he cooed out, letting his daughter take in the picture.

what a bundle of joy she is. nanami remembered every second he spent inside the delivery room by your side — letting you dig your fingers inside his flesh, because he knew the pain that you were going through at that moment couldn't compare to anything else that he was feeling. all he cared about was you and his daughter.

"this me?" (daughter)'s meek voice resounds. nanami nodded, eyes gazing into his daughter's doe ones, "i so pretty."

nanami smiled warmly, "yes, you are pretty, just like mama," he compliments; pinching her chubby cheeks gently, "it still surprises me how you're an exact copy of your mama . . ." he pats her head, his palm engulfing her whole head.

(daughter) nods her head vigorously, "mama and me twins!" she cheers happily, kicking her feet.

the male chuckles, "mhm, twins," he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her up — standing as he puts the picture album on top of the coffee table that sat in the middle of your living room, "mama's coming home soon."

"we take cookies out of cooler, papa," (daughter) pats her father's cheeks gently before wrapping an arm around his neck to hook herself close to nanami, "warm for mama."

nanami vaguely remembered the day he passed by a baking class near his office. where he first saw you, holding onto a young boy's hand — no younger than six years of age, guiding him to whisk what seemed to be cake batter. he stood out of the glass pane, staring into the class for at least the next three minutes out of his twenty-four hours just to look at you.

he thought you looked pretty (and the display cake looked pretty as well, but that was besides the point).

but he never saw you again until three months later at the same place, and you noticed him. surprising. considering he was staring yet again for the second time. but he didn't think that you'd go out your way to talk to him right at that moment — and he was thankful you did.

"mhm, we're going to warm it up for mama," with ease, nanami opened the cooler and grabbed a plate of messily made classic chocolate chip cookies wrapped with saran wrap. (daughter) contributed to most of the procedure, and nanami thought it was the third most beautiful thing besides you and her. he's a proud dad.

the process of warming the cold cookies was short — with (daughter) prepped on top of the counter, with nanami's arms right by her sides. the two of them smiling at each other in silence, waiting for the oven to let out the satisfying 'ding!', hopefully before you came through the door.

unfortunately, things don't always go the way he wanted. and there you were, with your usual (color) coat slung over your arm, heaving out an exhausted sigh, mumbling out a soft, "i'm home."

(daughter)'s head turn to face the door, eyes widening in panic as she then faced nanami, "mama home, papa," she whispers, covering her mouth to hold back a loud giggle.

nanami nuzzled his nose into hers, "want to go hide from mama?"

the young girl nods her head, almost immediately wrapping her arms around her father's neck, "go go go, papa, hide, hide!" she whispers, giggling as she fit her small face into the crook of nanami's neck.

nanami laid a hand behind his daughter's head, he passed by you who had just walked through the short hall leading towards the living room, sending out a slight signal through his eyes as he walks into (daughter)'s sage colored room. he laid the young girl down onto the rugged floor, "go go, hide from mama."

the girl wasted no time scurrying under her bed, giggling softly. on the other hand, nanami walked out of her room with a small smile, approaching you.

"something smells good," you greet the male, opening your arms for a hug. i mean — what else do you need after a long day of work besides a warm hug from your husband?

nanami's arms felt like a blanket engulfing your body, he buckled his knees slightly to press a short kiss on your lips, "(daughter) has your baking abilities, 'm not surprised. good day at work?"

you nod, "tiring day, a boy spilt heavy cream all over the floor and his mother blamed us for it," nanami's face hardened a bit after hearing your story, "she practically went on a cursing spree in front of the kids, the cops had to restrain her."

the male grazed his finger on your cheek, "i'm sorry about that, she didn't hurt you, did she?"

you shook your head, "no worries, where's my baby, hm?"

nanami pinched your nape gently, "she wanted to surprise you with her cookies, she's in her room hiding. go see her and i'll be there with the cookies, yes?"

"you're too nice to me," you jokingly said.

"just to you," he rolled his eyes, brushing his lips over the hollow of your nose, "go, go. she's waiting for you."

you pulled yourself away from his embrace, putting your coat on top of the kitchen's counter before sauntering over to (daughter)'s room, knocking on her door. which resulted in an indubitable string of laughter from your own blood and flesh from under the bed, "baby? where're you?"

her soft and hushed giggles didn't stop when you step inside her room, "are you . . ." you pretended to open the closet, "here!"

and (daughter) stifled back a laugh when you failed to find her. and the next attempt, you squat down to eye under the bed, "there you are," her loud laughs finally chimed out, "give mama a hug, please?"

the young carbon copy of you crawled out from under the bed, immediately rushing to your lap to give you a warm hug, "i miss mama . . ." she pressed a kiss to your cheek, "mama miss me?"

you cradled her body back and forth, "mama misses you so much."

"i have surprise for mama," (daughter) abruptly pulled back from the hug, "surprise cookies for mama!"

the scent of chocolate entered your nostrils as nanami walked inside the room with a plate of freshly warmed chocolate chip cookies, "it's not a surprise anymore when you tell mama about it, isn't it?" he asks with a slight chuckle.

"'ts okay, mama still surprised. i bake cookies with papa," (daughter)'s eyes twinkled with happiness when nanami laid the plate down on the floor, "i bake cookies like mama. try try mama!"

and so you did, "'ts so yummy, good job, baby!"

nanami tugged on your arm towards him, slithering an arm around your waist, "'f course she did, you're her mama, y'know?" the male leaned in to place a short kiss to the tip of your nose.

(daughter) shrieks out, "papa cooties!"

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fluff #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #female reader #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #nanami kento fluff #nanami kento oneshot #nanami oneshot

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daisynik7 · 6 months

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Cure for a Hangover

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~3.9k

cw: next-door neighbor Kishibe, age gap (I’m thinking at least fifteen years, Kishibe pushing mid-forties, reader is in her late 20s/early 30s), alcohol consumption, p*rn no plot, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl), blowjob, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, nipple play, pet names (sweetheart, angel, kiddo)

Summary: Kishibe is your mysterious, brooding, and significantly older next-door neighbor. You’ve lived beside him for a while now, only exchanging basic pleasantries out of politeness, never anything more. One night, he comes home drunk, or so he thinks. It’s not his door he’s slumped again; it’s yours.

Author’s Notes: It’s been a minute since I wrote for Kishibe and I really do miss it. This old man continues to do wonders to me, so I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Thanks! MDNI divider credit to @/cafekitsune.

Taglist: @batafuraikisu @neverlandlostchild @bloompompom @dprkento @a-listaire @man-knees @demonwoman (bc Kishibe using kiddo as a pet name is living in my head rent free thanks to you)

part 3 of to all the boys who live next door anthology series

It’s not often that you’re met with a man slumped against your door, but here you are, staring down at your next-door neighbor, Kishibe, doing just that.

It’s past two in the morning now, and you’ve just come back from your own night out with your friends. You’re not nearly as drunk as you were three hours ago, after pounding glasses of Chardonnay while watching cheesy romance movies at your best friend’s apartment. And you’re certainly not as inebriated as the man before you, who absolutely reeks of liquor, even from a small distance away.

You inspect the scene thoroughly, unsure what to do in this scenario. Kishibe is basically a stranger to you. Sure, you’ve exchanged basic pleasantries here and there over that past year since you moved in. That’s as far as it goes. You have no idea what his profession is, though you have a solid guess as to what it could be, given his work attire and overall physique. While you’ve never run into one yourself, devils run rampart in Tokyo, hell-bent on causing chaos wherever they spawn. Kishibe looks like a Devil Hunter, whose job is to eliminate these monsters. It’s intriguing, that’s for sure, but you’ve never mustered the courage to ask him about it, leaving him to maintain his mysterious demeanor.

However, right now, you don’t see a Devil Hunter in front of you. Instead, it’s a simple man who is very drunk and very much in your way.

Deciding to help him, because that’s the only choice you have if you want to get into your apartment, you kneel down to search his overcoat, patting the breast pocket for keys. When you find nothing, you move to his pants, retrieving only his phone. His eyes are closed and he’s snoring, blissfully unaware of your predicament in his drunken stupor. You take this time to study his face. He’s looks much older up close; not only that, he’s even more handsome than you originally thought. There’s a prominent scar running from his mouth to his jaw, surely an interesting story behind it. You’re tempted to trace it delicately with your finger, but you ultimately resist the urge, snapping out of it to investigate his phone for any clues.

There are several missed calls and texts from a person named Kenji. You use the Face ID feature to unlock his phone, thanking the universe that even with his eyes shuts, it works. Not wanting to pry more than necessary, you check the most recent texts for the answer to your question: Where the hell are his keys?

Kenji: you left your keys at the bar, come back now. I’m closing up soon

Kenji: I’m not waiting for your ass

Kenji: I’m leaving, get them tomorrow

You read over the messages once more, groaning quietly to yourself at your dumb luck. Desperate now, you resort to the next logical step.

“Hey,” you say, tapping him lightly on the cheek, rousing him awake. “Kishibe.”

Slowly, but surely, he opens his eyes, half-lidded, struggling to focus on you. “Huh?” His breath is heavy with liquor, most likely whiskey. His voice is deep and gravelly, and you hate admitting that’s it’s almost sexy. Well, not almost. It is sexy.

Letting the inappropriate thought fade, you say, “You’re at the wrong apartment. This is mine.”

He blinks three times, opening his eyes properly to stare at you, expression confused. “Am I dead?”

You bite your lip, holding back laughter. “No, you’re not.”

“Am I in heaven?”

You shake your head, repeating, “No, you’re not.”

“Then why is there any angel here with me?” He sounds sincere, and you can’t help but break out into a genuine smile.

“I’m not an angel,” you reply, giggling.

His lips curve into a cocky grin. “You sure? You look like one to me.” Cheeky bastard, hitting on you while he’s plastered. And look at you, finding it endearing when he does.

Slightly more relaxed, you slide the phone into his breast pocket, standing up to unlock your door. You can’t just leave him out here all night, so you decide to let him stay with you until he’s sober enough to call a locksmith. You jiggle the keys, turning the knob to open the door, and suddenly, there’s a loud thud, and then a delayed, “Ow.” He’s laid flat in the middle of your doorway, hitting his head on the hardwood. You feel guilty, not having the foresight to see this coming. His body is much sturdier than you anticipated.

You kneel down, apologizing. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

He winces, rubbing the back of his skull, then gives you a goofy smile. “I’ll be fine. Think I can get a kiss to make it feel better?”

You roll your eyes at him, once again unable to contain your laughter. “I’ll get you some ice. Let’s get you to the couch first, okay?”

Somehow, some way, whether it’s spurred by adrenaline or desperation to finally get some sleep in your own bed, you manage to haul him up by the armpits and drag him the short distance to your couch. You fluff a pillow and place it under his head, making it as comfortable as possible for him. “I’ll get the ice now.”

Before you can stand up, he grabs your wrist, gripping you tightly. “What about my kiss?”

“Nope. Not happening. I bet you don’t even know my name,” you challenge him.

He doesn’t respond, loosening his hold so you can get up. You fill a plastic bag with ice, returning to surround the back of his head with it. Eventually, he utters your name, eyes closed while he relaxes to your touch. He peeks at you with one eye open, waiting for you to confirm.

You nod, grinning. “So, you do know my name.”

“Can I get my kiss now?” he teases, gazing at you.

You shake your head. “Definitely not. I will not take advantage of a drunk person, that’s fucked up.”

He sighs, exhaling deeply, broad chest rising and falling. “Yeah, you’re right. I knew you were a good girl.”

You try not to hang on to those words, especially the last two, already fluttering below your belly over it. Grabbing his hand to replace yours, you instruct him to keep it there while you return to the kitchen to pour him a large glass of water. Within the short amount of time you’re gone, he falls asleep, his hand barely holding onto to the ice pack.

You smile to yourself, setting the glass of water down on the coffee table to continue attending to his minor injury. After a while, when you notice that there isn’t any bump or swelling developing, you stop icing him. He snores peacefully in a deep sleep, no sign of waking up anytime soon. As gingerly as you can, you remove his overcoat, draping it over the back of the couch. You set his phone next to the glass of water, for easy access. His tie looks tight around his collar, so you loosen it. Finally, you remove his shoes from his feet, laying them by the front door near your own pair. You’re certain he’ll wake up in the morning, feeling like shit, so you place a bottle of painkillers by his phone in case he needs them.

It's past three now by the time you’re dressed down in your pajamas and snuggled in bed. You keep the door ajar, listening to Kishibe’s steady breathing in the living room, treating it like white noise to help you fall fast asleep.

~~~

Kishibe wakes up with his head throbbing. He stares up at the ceiling, not recognizing it as his own. It doesn’t take long for him to realize that this isn’t his apartment.

He turns, seeing his phone, a glass of water, and a bottle of painkillers on the coffee table arm’s reach of him. Slowly, he sits up, grimacing from the pain, downing all the water in three large gulps. He checks his phone, thankfully still on its last leg of battery. It’s almost eleven on a Saturday morning and he’s sure Kenji, his bartender friend, is already awake, preparing for the day.

“Kenji,” he mutters, throat hoarse from last night’s festivities.

His friend first berates him for forgetting his keys, then laughs when Kishibe explains that somehow, some way, he managed to fall asleep on someone else’s couch. He could have woken up in worst conditions, that’s for sure.

Kenji agrees to stop by after running his errands, in about two hours or so. Beggars can’t be choosers, so Kishibe has no choice but to wait. When they’re phone conversation is over, he sinks back into the cushions, trying to piece everything together from just a few hours ago. He recalls snippets of it, and he grows increasingly embarrassed as the memories play vividly in his brain. He’s certain he called his neighbor an angel, and even more sure that he was begging her for a kiss. How shit-faced was he to compel him to do that? Obviously, very. How could he let his intrusive thoughts blurt out of his mouth like that?

Call it cliché or whatever, but yes, Kishibe is attracted his young, pretty neighbor next door. However, he’s held off on making a move because he doesn’t want to make things between them awkward. Once he crosses that line, their relationship gets more complicated. And the devil knows that Kishibe doesn’t do complicated. So, he’s content with gazing from afar, exchanging basic small talk with one another whenever they pass each other in the hallway. That’s as far as it’s gone with her, and that’s as far as it will go.

Of course, that’s all fucked up now thanks to his drunken antics from last night.

Before he can make his move, he hears a bedroom door creak open from behind him. She comes out, looking fresh out of the shower, dressed in skimpy pajama bottoms that are short enough to expose that tantalizing curve right below her ass. Surely, she’s doing this on purpose, right? She has to know how fucking sexy she looks right now, there’s no way she doesn’t.

He clears his throat, preparing to explain himself right off the bat to avoid an awkward confrontation. But he’s rendered momentarily speechless when she flashes a bright smile at him. “Morning, Kishibe.”

He huffs out a short laugh. “Morning.”

She steps towards him, sitting at the opposite end of the couch by his feet. Her shorts ride up and he’s sure he can see the lacey outline of her panties. Or maybe it’s just his perverse imagination, who knows at this point. “How are you feeling?” she asks, genuinely concerned.

He grunts. “Like shit,” he answers. “But it could be worse.”

“That’s the spirit,” she teases, patting his knee.

His head pounds from his hangover, though it’s his heartbeat that thumps loudly against his eardrums, aroused by her touch. He has got to control himself. Doing his best to distract her from the raging boner growing beneath his slacks, he asks, “What happened last night?”

She explains her account of the evening in detail, her voice soft and soothing, cautious of his current headache. She leaves out the parts where he embarrasses himself, which he’s grateful for, not wanting to relive the humiliation. When she’s done, she offers, “If you want, you can take a shower while you wait for your friend to arrive. I can get you some towels. I even have a toothbrush you can use.”

He raises a brow at her. “Are you trying to tell me I stink?”

“Do you need someone to tell you that you stink? I thought it was pretty obvious given the state you’re in,” she quips, matching his expression.

He laughs, genuinely amused by her response. “Yeah, can’t argue with that.”

She leads him into her bathroom, showing him how to work the knob for hot water, pointing out the shampoo, conditioner, and soap kept neatly on a corner shelf of her bathtub. She lingers for a bit while he starts the shower, then hands him a clean towel and new toothbrush. “Let me know if you need anything.”

Surprisingly, he makes it through his shower without succumbing to the temptation to touch himself. As degenerate as he can be, he still has some sense of respect and pride in him, enough to resist masturbating in his neighbor’s shower. He does, however, give her shampoo and conditioner bottles an extra-long sniff.

He dries off, scrubbing his hair with the towel, cleaning behind his ears with cotton swabs, checking his piercings. Towel wrapped around his waist, he brushes his teeth, making sure to go the full two minutes, scrubbing his tongue after. He hasn’t made the best impression so far, so he figures he should try to change that now, if there’s still a chance. Feeling fresh and clean, he stares down at his clothes in a pile on the floor. Even from where he stands, he can smell them, almost like they’ve been diluted in liquor and musk. Without thinking, he steps out of the bathroom, calling out her name. “Got any clothes I could borrow?”

She’s in the kitchen when he comes out, leaning over the stove as she cooks something that smells wonderful. She turns to face him, staring wide-eyed as he stands almost naked in the middle of her living room. Her gaze drifts down his bare body, lingering on his sculpted abs, then at the towel wrapped precariously around his waist. She snaps out of it in time, saying, “I don’t. Sorry.”

“My clothes fucking stink and I don’t want to wear them right now. Mind if I just walk around like this?”

“Sure. I mean, I don’t mind.” She focuses her attention back to the pan, continuing to cook what looks like scrambled eggs.

He knows this is a bizarre request, though this day couldn’t get any more bizarre than it already is, can it?

~~~

You’re not exactly sure how to refuse Kishibe’s request to walk around half naked in your apartment, so instead, you agree to it, claiming that you don’t mind. In actuality, you mind very much, simply because you can’t help but fantasize about the delicious sight beneath the towel. One wrong move like a bump to the hip is all it takes to see that pesky cover fall down. Geez, when did you become such a pervert? And for an old man?!

Desperate for a distraction, you maintain focus on the eggs in front of you. While he was in the shower, you decided to start breakfast, something hearty to combat that hangover of his. Scrambled eggs, toast, and sausage, comforting foods to soak up the remaining alcohol left in his body. He makes his way towards you, scooting a chair out from the table to take a seat. He strategically maneuvers himself to not accidentally expose you, though you really don’t mind if he does. Again, perverted thoughts, shame on you!

Finished cooking, you scoop the eggs out onto his plate and the other meant for you. He thanks you, taking a whiff of his breakfast, a small smile on his face. “Smells good.”

You pass him another glass of liquid, this one filled with an electrolyte drink meant for hydration after a night of drinking. “Drink this. It’ll help with your hangover.”

He eyes it suspiciously, then takes a gulp without questioning it further.

The two of you eat in a comfortable silence, ignoring the obvious tension hanging in the air. From your peripheral, you notice the glint of steel hooked to his ear lobe. Piercings, which you never noticed before. Sexy.

He ends up finishing his entire meal, popping a few painkillers to chase it all down. He even chugs the electrolyte drink, claiming it isn’t so bad. While you take the last few bites of your toast, he excuses himself to brush his teeth again. You’re surprised at how hygienic he is, considering how he appeared before you just mere hours ago, hunched against your front door covered in his own liquor-soaked sweat. You take the plates, stacking them in the sink to wash for later. How much longer is his friend going to take to arrive here? You’re getting nervous, thinking of other ways to fill this gap of time without making your attraction to him so obvious.

You sit on the couch, turning the TV on to a random sitcom with the volume low, listening to the rush of water from the faucet inside the bathroom. When it stops, you try to find a comfortable position to sit in. It’s only now that you realize how short your pajama bottoms are; they ride all the way up your thighs and you can practically see your underwear through them. It’s too late to change when Kishibe returns, still clad in just a towel, taking a seat on the other side of the couch a safe distance beside you. It’s silent for a brief moment, neither of you knowing what to say in this odd situation. You shift nervously, tugging at the hem of your shorts.

“Thank you,” he starts, avoiding your gaze, staring ahead at the television. “For taking care of me. Must have been annoying to deal with a drunken old man.”

You smile, relaxing. “It wasn’t so bad. Besides, I couldn’t just leave you out there like that. Someone could have taken advantage of you.”

“Like you almost did?” he smirks, facing you now.

Laughing, you meet his gaze. “You remember that?”

“I do.” He spreads his legs apart just barely, towel draped dangerously over his knee, almost ready to slip.

You swallow hard, avoiding a glance in that direction, heat surrounding your cheeks. “Well, I was a good girl, remember? I didn’t do anything.”

He hums, nodding slowly, eyes drilling into yours. “You were a very good girl.”

Your breath hitches and you find yourself gravitating towards him, scooting closer. He grins, the scar on his cheek curving with it, voice low and seductive. “You gonna be bad for me now?”

“Only if you want me to,” you purr, sliding your hand beneath the towel, up his thigh, arousal pooling between your legs. Fuck it. He wants it, you want it. There’s no denying it anymore.

“Fuck,” he swears under his breath, pulling you in for a kiss. His mouth is cool and minty against yours, the remnants of toothpaste lingering in his spit. You slurp it up, hungry for any taste of him. He removes the towel from his waist, shrugging it to the floor, leaving him completely naked. You glance at his lap and bite back a moan, amazed at how fucking big he is, way too eager to have him inside you, desperate to be filled to the brim.

“Not bad for an old man, huh?” he chuckles, wrapping his fist around the shaft, stroking it.

“Not bad at all,” you smile, stripping out of your clothes hastily, kneeling between his legs with your mouth open.

He feeds you his cock, humming when you surround him in your wet heat, swallowing him to the hilt. One hand grips the back of your head, guiding you gently up and down his shaft. “You’re filthy, taking your neighbor’s cock like this. Who knew you’d be such a slut?” he mutters, caressing the side of your face with his other hand. “Touch yourself while I fuck this filthy mouth. Get that pretty pussy wet for me.”

You obey, spurred on by his vulgarity, reaching for your arousal, rubbing your throbbing clit with fast fingers. His cock hits the back of your throat and you guzzle him down to resist gagging, drool leaking from the sides of your lips. He moans, bucking his hips slightly, enraptured by you. With his thumb, he brushes away a tear welling at the corner of your eye, pulling out halfway. “Don’t hurt yourself, kiddo. It’s okay if I’m too much for you.”

You release him completely, moving down to his balls, nuzzling your nose to them. “I can take it, don’t worry.”

He clicks his teeth, beckoning you on the couch, almost like you’re being scolded for something you weren’t supposed to do. You roll your eyes, sitting beside him begrudgingly. He leans close to you, hot on your ear, one hand sliding between your legs while the other continues to stroke his dick. “I want to touch you too. That okay?”

You whine in response, tugging him in for a passionate kiss. He massages deep circles around your clit, fingers squelching from your slick gathering along your entrance. “I want a taste,” he growls, splitting apart your thighs, staring at your glistening cunt.

You nod, sinking into the couch, relinquishing all control to him. You let your pleasured moans speak for you as he dives into your pussy, eating you out sloppily. His facial hair grazes against you with each careful stroke of his tongue and you ache to see his chin shiny with your cum. Eventually, he slips inside you, pumping two digits in and out, mouth still working your bud. Soon, it becomes too much and you’re gushing for him, whimpering his name with ragged breaths, soaking his face in your essence.

He chuckles, the vibrations resonating to your clit, causing you to twitch with overstimulation. “That’s my girl, making such a mess for me.”

“Fuck me, Kishibe,” you breathe out, craving to be stuffed full of him. You’re reeling from your high, and if he’s not inside you soon, you’re sure you’ll go insane.

He hoists you up onto his lap, precum oozing from the tip of his dick. “How about you fuck me? Show me how much of a slut you are.”

Too fucked out to argue, you lift up on your knees, position him to your wet hole, sinking down slowly. He slides in easily, pussy sleek from your previous orgasm. It’s better than you imagined, every inch of him stimulating every inch of you. You savor it, rocking against him slowly. He kisses along on your neck, trailing to your nipples to suckle on them. “That’s it, sweetheart,” he moans, thrusting up into you to match your rhythm. “Take this cock however you like. It’s all yours.”

You bounce on him faster, whimpering into his mouth as you kiss him. He palms your ass cheeks, squeezing them in his firm grip, delivering a few loud smacks that echo off the walls of your living room, stinging your skin. “Fuck, I knew you were a good girl. Knew it the moment I met you,” he growls, pressing his thumb to your swollen clit. “Always wanted you like this.”

You kiss him harder at his confession, your chest swelling, pussy fluttering. You’re approaching another climax, teetering on the edge. As if he senses it, he tightens his hold on you, fucking into you faster, deeper. “Come for me, angel. Come on this cock.”

And you do, clenching him with your orgasm, making him mutter, “Fuck, I’m coming. I’m coming with you.” He shoots his load inside you, filling you up, just like you wanted.

It takes a moment for the two of you to catch your breaths, relaxing into each other’s arms, exchanging soft kisses without speaking. You study his face again, similar to how you did just several hours before, when he was slumped against your door, drunk. You thought he was handsome then, even more so now. “How’s your hangover?” you ask, breaking the silence.

He smiles, nuzzling his nose to yours. “Much better.”

#kishibe #kishibe x reader #kishibe csm #kishibe smut #kishibe chainsaw man #kishibe x you #csm kishibe #chainsaw man smut #csm smut #to all the boys who live next door #anthology series

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phlurrii · 2 months

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Alrighty! So just some stuff that’s been brain rotting lately is a character I wanna introduce ya’ll too! Shinto, a shiny Celebi! Lovingly, but mostly patiently hunted and caught by @loupy-mongoose brother! Who kindly cloned and named it for me as I did not buy VC Crystal before the eshop went down X3

Anywho! Onto some rambles, for about a week I did warm up doodles of intercation with baby Qari and their adoptive father Shinto with mewtuals! Featuring: @xxtc-96xx @pokemon-ash-aus @mewtwoevolution @the-mew-crew (didn’t miss it this time >;3) @bbubbles-mewtopia @definitely-not-a-mew !

So as mentioned before, Qari is a mew that spent their early days falling through time and hoped around alot, often against their will as they couldn’t control their powers. Especially as an infant, so eventually, after many Pokémon attempt to take it in… only for them to vanish against through time, a certain Celebi is alerted to the time hoping baby. And… well, trying to find its parent turns into Shinto becoming the parent, despite being not the best or experienced with kiddos.

So Qari ends up being raised by Shinto, who has no idea what he is doing and is frankly petrified of telling/going near Meau about this random baby mew he’s found. Over time Shinto helps Qari figure out his time powers and stabilized him, being one of the few Pokémon able to follow the infant when he time jumps and keep them safe. So the above doodles are Shinto going around and receiving advice on how to parent the lil goober. We’ll see more of them after the Missingno arc and likely when they meant during it, but for now enjoy this peak into Qari’s life and the only Celebi I will ever love this much XD

#ancient mew #mew #pokemon #mew pokemon #the ancient mew #pokémon mew #Celebi #Celebi Pokémon #pokemon Celebi #interaction doodles #mewtwo #pokemon mewtwo #Qari #Shinto

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seeingivy · 1 year

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king of my heart

satoru gojo x f!reader

maybe satoru gojo, the man you were arranged to marry by your very annoying parents, was the one you were waiting for all along

**part of my satoru as taylor swift songs series

content: arranged marriage trope, megumi + tsumiki kiddos, annoying parents, mentions of drinking + prom/highschool LOL

an: taylor swift satoru gojo propoganda returns.

You hold the vase of tulips in your hands, your palms sweating against the glass secured in his hands. You sincerely hope your anxiousness doesn’t make you drop the flowers before you can hand them to Mrs. Gojo. That would be a disaster.

Your parents are behind you, locking up your car and fussing over your outfit. Your mother had picked out a pale, baby blue dress for you, a modest cut but flattering your best features (according to her) - your hips, shoulders, collarbones. She’d given you a sparkling silver necklace to match, to draw attention to you. You silently wonder when she became such a conniver, hand picking your best traits to put on display for the Gojo family.

Your father’s mimicking her motions, taming down your stray hairs. You had braided the front pieces of your hairs just behind your ears and curled the rest of your loose hair to perfection. Your mothers request, of course. He’s less anal than her about the entire affair, but you don’t miss his nervous twitching as you walk up to the door.

The only person you can stand is your little brother, Saiki, who's been rolling his eyes since we started driving here. He thinks the entire proceeding is archaic, which it is, and has vehemently been making his disapproval known. He would keep it going, but there was talk of grounding on the table, which silenced him all together.

The four of you gather on the steps of the Gojo's mansion. You prepare yourself, mentally running through the steps your mother had drilled into you since you started meeting potential suitors a few months ago. Polite nod to the husband, hand the flowers and press a kiss to the wife, a shy smile to the suitor.

The three of them are crowded at the door, Satoru Gojo towering over the two of them. You’d heard of him before, your mother mentioning that their family was one of the most esteemed business owners in our entire social circle. She had never had the pleasure of making her acquaintance, which killed her every night (you’re sure of it), until now. A mutual friend had mentioned the Gojo family was looking for their daughter in law to “perfect their set” and your mother was all too willing to offer you up on a silver platter.

You do as your told. You knew you would have to anyway and struggling was useless. Plus, you’d sworn off love as of late anyways. This is what you were primed for - that shiny medical degree, your private pediatric practice - they’re all sparkly little gimmicks meant for this. A selling point.

The door opens and you start. First, a polite nod to Mr. Gojo, who gives you a chill with his stare. His eyes are void of warmth, the cerulean blues staring back into your eyes. His hands are cold when you press them together to shake, the same cold gaze being exchanged with your parents over the back of your shoulder.

Second, flowers and a sweet kiss to Mrs. Gojo. She dotes over the tulips, in a polite way, before dismissing them away to the servants you didn’t notice standing against the wall. You thank the servant for taking the vase, giving a warm smile before pressing a kiss to Mrs. Gojo’s cheek. Ice cold.

Third, a shy smile to the suitor. Whatever the fuck that means. You meet his gaze, half obscured by the sunglasses he was wearing indoors. He’s dressed in a buttoned up white shirt, the sleeves rolled past his forearms. The slacks are pressed to perfection, his shoes shined so well you could use them as a mirror. You give him a smile, which he halfheartedly returns. It seems he’s more interested in talking to Saiki than you.

The seven of you walk down the length of the hall, the table set up with white lilies and silver tablemats. Mrs. Gojo turns to Satoru, insisting that he take you and Saiki on a tour. Satoru nods, begrudgingly, before gesturing to you and Saiki to follow him up the stairs.

When you reach the top of the stairs, Satoru turns to a painting on the left, a painted portrait of his family when he was way younger. They all have solemn looks on their face, Satoru’s hinting on the borderline of irritation and boredom. Before Satoru can start his riveting spiel, Saiki interrupts him.

“Are you really going to make us do a real tour? Do you have video games or something till we have to go back?”

You dig your hand into his shoulder, bending down to his height and squeezing slightly.

“Saiki. Be nice.”

“Mom’s not nearby, you know?”

“She has superhuman, x-ray vision, Saiki. I bet she can see you from here.”

The two of you laugh and you ruffle his hair before you stand up again. You pat down the pleats of your dress, drying your palms against the fabric, as you turn back to Satoru.

“We don’t actually have to do a tour if you don’t want to. I have Mario Kart in my room.”

You and Saiki shoot him glimmering smiles, following him down the length of the hallway. He opens his bedroom door for you, the room the exact opposite of the perfectly proper, museum like decor downside.

His walls are navy blue and littered in posters and pictures. You can see his diploma hung up on the wall, right next to a poster for the Spongebob movie.

“I’m shocked they even let you do this.”

“They didn’t, Y/N. I just did it anyway.”

You nod at his words, turning your neck back to the walls. Saiki and Satoru sit on the floor, legs crossed, playing the game as you take a moment at each section, observing all the pictures. He has what seems like twenty or thirty pictures of his friends - sleeping in class, sitting by a lake, studying in a library. You don’t miss the multiple pictures of the girl with dark hair, a scar pressed against her nose. Especially the one of him kissing her cheek.

The other picture that stands out is a picture of Satoru himself, from when he was younger. The picture was clearly taken from above, an exasperated look pressed on little Satoru’s face. You can’t help but think he looks sad, lonely in the picture and commit it to memory. Your parents were more irritating than most, but Saiki got you through.

You settle down onto the floor next to them, Saiki handing his controller as you start to play.

“One more round and we should head back.”

You nod, playing the game, the pictures rattling around in your head.

The dinner is horrible, obviously. You were seated in between Satoru and his father, with Saiki exiled all the way at the end of the table. You shoot him glances every few seconds, trying your best not to smile at his very clear distaste for it all.

You can sense the dynamics fitting into your mind, observing every little thing to better understand what you were getting into. After all, the Gojo’s were going to be your family in a few months, whether you liked it or not.

Satoru has a clear distaste for his parents. His father, more than his mother. You can just tell by the way they look at each other. You think back to the picture, the one of him when he was younger, and can’t help but wonder if his father took it.

After dinner, your parents and Satoru’s convince force the two of you to take a walk along the garden, alone. You nod, preparing yourself for what was coming. A moonlit walk, pleasantries, and a ring secured on your finger by the end of the walk.

The two of you walk in silence, a respectable distance between the two of you. You can smell his cologne as you walk next to him, the breeze in the air making the hair on your arms stand up.

You press your hands across your arms, entering the gazebo with Satoru. The two of you take a seat on the bench in the middle, keeping a respectable distance.

“Y/N.”

“Can I say something first?”

He nods, leaning over the bench to meet your eyes. The only light in the gazebo is from the tiny, sparking fairy lights around the interior, the moon shining through the openings on the side. You can’t help but wonder if things were different, that this might have been the happiest moment of your life.

“I would like to be married by name. I figure you have a girlfriend, that girl from the pictures in your room with the scar on her nose, and that’s fine. I’d just like to keep it up for images to satisfy both of our parents, since I figure yours are as relentless as mine.”

The two of you sit in silence, the words hanging in the air. You focus on the lilies growing by the edge of the opening, wilting in the air of the night.

“You’d be okay with that?”

“I was never expecting us to fall in love. We just have to do what we’re asked, keep our own lives outside of it.”

He nods, the silence returning. You can see the gears moving in his head, considering your offer. After a few minutes, he removes a dark green box from his pocket, sliding it over to your side of the bench. You open the box to find a sparkling, modest cut diamond secured around a gold band.

You take it into your hand, taking out the diamond ring and placing it on your ring finger. You stick your hand out, staring at the sparkling ring on your finger.

He shoots you a genuine smile, shaking his hand in yours. Deal.

“Thank you.”

“No problem, Satoru.”

He secures his hand in your own as the two of you walk back down the path. Your parents are all too delighted, everyone pressing warm kisses to your cheek as they take your hand in their own.

The business deal is set. Your parents deal with each other and yours with Satoru. You can feel Saiki’s hand shaking in yours, trying to hide his upsetness at you. You reach down to ruffle his hair, shaking your head at him as the four of you head back home.

You and Satoru are married by the end of the month.

“I have a secret.”

You’re currently standing in Satoru’s driveway, your driveway now, with your boxes lined up on the sidewalk. Your parents had insisted that you move in with him, now that you were married. You had to oblige.

All in all, your marriage with Satoru was pleasant. You guys went out to dinner every night, exchanging pleasantries over an expensive meal Satoru bought you. The two of you often shared jokes, trying to ease the tension. He updated you on his relationship with the girl, Utahime was her name, and you talked to him about work. You find out that his relationship is anything but stable, the two of them fighting like it was breathing. He likes to hear about your coworkers, the patients you saw that day, how you like the workplace.

It felt more like hanging out with a friend, but there was always an invisible, silent wall between the two of you. You were married. You had to have kids together. Grow old together. He doesn’t talk about it. Neither do you. You’ll breach that when you get there.

“What’s your secret, Satoru?”

“I have kids.”

“If there’s a zoo animal inside that house, I’ll run you over with my car.”

Satoru loves to prank you. You get irritated with him very easily, which you’re aware goads him on even more, but you can’t help it. He’s an idiot.

But this time, he places his hands on your shoulder, squeezing twice. His sunglasses are hanging from the collar of his shirt, his usually obscured eyes peering into yours. No sign of a joke in them. You gesture to the steps on the porch, the two of you sitting down against them.

“You’re a manwhore? You got a girl pregnant and then had to raise it by yourself?”

“Obviously. The woes of a single father.”

You laugh, leaning your neck back. The sunlight is sprinkling onto your skin through the leaves, the beams kissing your skin. It’s a nice feeling, the breeze tickling the wisps of your hair. You can feel Satoru staring at you through the corner of your eyes and you turn your head to the side to look at him.

“Their dad passed away. I took them in after, just because I didn’t want them to be alone. Their names are Megumi and Tsumiki, they’re five and eight. I really hope you like kids, they’re really well-behaved.”

You turn to face him, narrowing your eyes at him.

“You’re kidding right? Did you just ask me if I like kids?”

“Well yeah, you’re going to be living with them, I was just wondering.”

“Do you ever listen to me when I talk? Do you even know what I do for a job?”

“Um…”

You burst out laughing, the tears rolling through your eyes.

“You’re ridiculous, Satoru Gojo. I’m a pediatrician. Like a baby doctor. Like I full on go to work everyday and see children all day.”

He pushes you over, grumbling about how you were still laughing at him, about how it was an honest mistake to make. When your tears subside, he reaches his hand out to you, pulling you up to enter the room. The two of you shuffle the boxes to the edge of the door and pad into the foyer. Satoru grabs your hand, pulling you in to meet Tsumiki and Megumi.

Tsumiki extends her hand, introducing herself politely to you. You bend down, reaching in your pocket for the lollipops you always had in hand, and don’t miss the glowing smile when you hand it to her. You turn to your side to look at Satoru, whose rolling his eyes at you.

At the sight of Megumi, you can tell he doesn’t look quite right. His face is flushed pink, his forehead covered in beads of sweat. He can barely keep his head up, eyes wavering at the sight of you. You reach down, pressing your hand against his forehead.

“Satoru. He’s sick.”

“Are you sure?”

“Satoru, I’m a doctor. Do you have anything on hand?”

At the sound of your words, Satoru enters into a full blown panic, grabbing basically any medicine and blanket he had in the nearby vicinity. You examine him, asking his sister how long he had been feeling this way, laying him down on his back and administering the medications Satoru had brought you.

When things settle down, with Megumi’s eyes fluttering open and Tsumiki running her hands through his hair, you join Satoru in the kitchen behind them. He’s nervously watching the two of them from the back, his eyes still pinched in worry.

You link your arm through his own, preparing the parent pep talk you give your patients every day.

“It’s okay, Satoru. Kids get sick all the time.”

He nods, his eyes still fixed on Megumi.

“It was a good thing I was here, really. He’s going to be okay, I promise.”

Megumi speaks up from the couch, his grumpy voice permeating the air.

“Satoru would have killed me if you weren’t here”

You turn your head to face Satoru, expecting to find annoyance pressed on his face. Instead, he’s broken out into a full smile, shaking your hands in his and thanking you profusely.

“That’s a good sign?”

“Kid always loves to give me attitude. If he’s well enough to make a dig at me, he’s perfectly fine.”

“Can’t blame the kid. I would do it too.”

“First, I get an malevolent kid and then a malevolent wife? No breaks for Satoru Gojo.”

“Woe is you.”

You roll your eyes, joining Megumi back at his side to take his vital signs again. The two of you share a knowing look, ignoring Satoru’s joking pouts and comments in the back.

You can’t help but smile at the two of them, their soft hands clasped in each other as they fall asleep on the couch after a few minutes. After a few minutes, you and Satoru carry them back to their beds, giving each other a high five before heading to your own rooms.

Maybe it won’t be so bad.

Satoru comes home late one Friday, well past Tsumiki and Megumi’s bed times. You had to shower and tuck both of them into bed by yourself, which was irritating.

Satoru reserved Friday nights for Utahime, the two of them going on a secret date somewhere in the city. You had met her once, establishing that you had no intentions of doing anything with her boyfriend, which she was all but understanding of.

You figure that she must love him so much that she’s willing to look past it. You get it, you’d do the same if you were her.

If you were in love. In general. Not in love with Satoru, obviously.

He trails in, ten minutes past midnight to find you sprawled against the couch. You’re wrapped in three blankets, your head poking out of your little cocoon.

“You know what sucks? You got some tonight and I got to tuck two kids into bed.”

He trails to the kitchen counter, no stupid remark in response. You get up from your tiny fort, padding into the kitchen where Satoru is standing. He’s eating a box of macaroons, pushing the last one towards you to eat.

The two of you are leaning over the counter, the silence palpable.

“You okay, Toru? Where’s my usual back talk?”

“Mhm. Kind of broke up with Utahime. Don’t feel like it today.”

You push yourself onto the counter, your legs dangling over the edge. The two of you are the same level now, facing opposite directions. You lean your head against his shoulder, linking your hand with his and pressing twice.

“I’m sorry, Satoru. Want to talk about it?”

“She just got upset that I got married, that's all. Didn’t really understand that it was something I had to do. Said I was doing a little bit too much for her to make up for it and she met someone else.”

You nod, the two of you sitting in silence. You stay that way for a while, your head against his shoulder, your hand in his. You’re rubbing small circles into the side of his hand, your fingers tingling at the contact.

“Satoru.”

“Hm?”

“I understand.”

“You do?”

“When I got my heart broken, all I could think about was how I wanted it to be him so bad. He meant everything to me and I’d do anything to be the one next to him.”

“Heartbroken? You never told me that.”

“Yeah. It was a few years ago. He didn’t feel the same about me as I did about him.I]”

“Did you date anyone after?”

“I waited for someone, the person who was meant for me. I kind of gave up as time went on, swearing off of it all together. It’s partially why I struck the deal I did with you. If I was going to be forced to marry someone, he could at least be someone nice, a friend I could keep.”

He sits quietly, pondering your words. He’s leaned his head against yours, the two of you sitting quietly. The only sound is your breaths, inhaling and exhaling in sync.

“You think I’m nice?”

“I’m not soothing your ego.”

“Rude. I’m wounded Y/N.”

You poke the side of his cheek, rolling your eyes at him. You move closer into his embrace, now tangled in his arms. You can hear him whispering against your hair, his lips against your forehead.

“Did it hurt? When he left?”

“Yeah. But, someone told me something and it’s always stuck with me since then. I guess I was trying really hard to make it work, but things like this always sort themselves on their own.”

“What do you mean?”

“The right people were always going to stay. If Utahime and Getou were the right people, they’d still be here, Satoru.”

The two of you stay that way for a while, pressed against each other. Tsumiki and Megumi trail in at the sound of Satoru’s voice, pressing themselves against your legs.

You all sleep together in Satoru’s bed that night. You ignore the stinging in your chest at the thought of Satoru hurting.

You can feel your phone buzzing on the counter, as you tuck the last bit of flowers into Tsumiki’s hair.

toru: hurry up

toru: this kid is gonna shit his pants and i think im scaring him

you: omfg don’t tell me you gave the poor kid a pep talk

toru: kind of. told him id throttle him if tsumiki doesn’t come back from the dance with a smile on her face.

you: satoru gojo, i will hurt you. leave the poor baby alone.

Tsumiki turns around, her pale pink dress falling to her sides. You hear Satoru’s footsteps down the hallway, glaring at him as he joins you two at the door of the bathroom.

“Don’t tell me you left him alone at the dinner table.”

“Megumi is there. He’s staring him down real good.”

You and Tsumiki glare at Satoru and you turn back to Tsumiki to give her the final touches. You press your shiny pink lip gloss in her little hands, settling her hair down as you stand up. You and Satoru move out of the hallway, about to find your way back to the room, but Tsumiki stops you in your wake.

Her hand is pressed against yours, pulling you down.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure thing, Miss Miki. What’s up?”

“Do you think I’m pretty, Y/N?”

“What? Of course, I do Tsumiki. You look lovely. I’m sure Ethan will love it.”

She gives you a shy smile, her eyes wavering on uneasiness.

“You’re very pretty, Tsumiki. I love your dress and your eyes are all sparkly the way you like. Just have fun out there okay? If you’re not having fun with Ethan, you can always have fun with your friends instead.”

She nods, pressing her body against your frame. You squeeze her tight in your frame, Satoru eyeing the two of you on the ground.

“Thanks for always being here, Y/N. I love you.”

Tsumiki lets you go, running off into the kitchen where Ethan is very shyly handing her the little corsage he bought her for the dance. You turn to Satoru, the two of you watching him in the kitchen.

“She loves me.”

“Are you dense? You do know Tsumiki and Megumi both love you right?”

“I don’t know, I wasn’t entirely sure of it. I figured they might, but I never thought they’d actually say it to me.”

You pull out your camera, snapping pictures of Tsumiki and Ethan as they press their little flowers to each other’s clothes. Ethan’s parents are waiting in the driveway. They’re driving them to the dance and you and Satoru will be picking them up.

You follow them into the driveway, waving goodbyes as the car makes its way down the road.

“Did you like school dances, Y/N?”

“I never really went, Satoru. No one ever asked me.”

“What? Not even Prom?”

You shake your head, facing away from him as you pull out the dinner the two of you were going to eat. Ice cream. Satoru’s idea, obviously.

“Why didn’t you go?”

“It’s kind of stupid, Satoru.”

“Tell me.”

“No.”

“You’re keeping secrets? From your husband? Who is he?”

You laugh, playfully pushing him. He gives you a smile, locking his fingers with yours.

“Cmon, tell daddy. I won’t make fun.”

“You’re disgusting. I’m filing for divorce.”

“As if.”

You look down at your hands, his pale, nimble fingers interlocked with yours.

“It’s just stupid. I wanted to go really badly, have my whole special moment. A guy who asks me to the dance, brings me a corsage, matches the color of my dress, and we dance while drinking cheap beer out of solo cups. But no one wanted to do it with me.”

He turns his head to the side, staring down at you.

“Forget it. You’re dumbass was probably Prom King for all I know. You wouldn’t get it.”

You lean against the counter, digging your spoon right into the center of the tub of ice cream, rather angrily, reliving the stupid, pitiful feeling of your teen years.

“I was Prom King.”

“Of course.”

“Hey. I’m sorry you didn’t get your moment, Y/N.”

“I’m glad Tsumiki has someone to do it with. You know, make her feel special, like she’s only girl in the room and all that.”

He presses his forehead against yours, reaching for your spoon to eat some of the ice cream with you. You swat his hand away, which he pouts at.

“It was still a good day. Tsumiki said she loves me.”

“I thought you were kidding about that. Did you really not know that we love you?”

“We?”

“Y/N. You know I love you right?”

You shrug your shoulders, staring at his blue eyes. He cups your face in his hands, squishing your face.

“As smart as you are, you’re really stupid sometimes you know that? How could I not love my wife?”

“You’re stupid.”

You pick up your phone, shooting a text underneath your desk.

you: satoru.

lanky ass mf: yes, oh beloved wife of mine?

you: sleep in the sewage, you gutter rat.

you: I forgot my white coat and my badge at home, can you pLS PLS PLS DROP IT OFF AT THE OFFICE I NEED IT

lanky ass mf: first you call me a gutter rat and then ask me for a favor?

lanky ass mf: no I love you? no light of my life, king of my heart, body, and soul?

you: I will skin you where you stand. PLS JUST BRING WHAT I ASKED

lanky ass mf: ask nicely and i’ll drop it off on the way to work.

you: oh beloved, dear old husband of mine. everyday, my love for you grows exponentially. if you could please spare me some kindness out of your cold, pitiful heart of yours and bring me my white coat in my badge, it would be much appreciated sweet thing

lanky ass mf: i’ll ignore the insult that you threw in there and bring it over in ten, oh lovely wife of mine.

you: ty satoru :DDD

lanky ass mf: ur welcome, sexy :’)

you: wanted: y/n l/n wanted for the vicious, gruesome murder of satoru gojo.

“lanky ass mf disliked your message”

You set down your phone, burying your head in your hands. The practice had been busier as of late, a viral bug passing around all of your patients. And on top of that, you had left your white coat and your badge - which you needed to round - at home. You can feel the tension headache setting in your forehead, bringing your fingers to your temple to soothe it down.

Tsumiki had a field trip today. Satoru dropped her off bright and early but she forgot her permission slip at home. You had to rush over to the school, nearly running onto the school bus to get Tsumiki’s slip in on time.

As promised, Satoru prances in twenty minutes later, your whitecoat and badge in his right hand and a bouquet of tulips in his left hand.

Asshole. You had framed a photo of Satoru, Megumi, and Tsumiki from your birthday and placed it on your desk. The three of them planned a surprise dinner for your birthday and you loved the pictures so much you just had to frame one for your office.

The problem was that ever since then, all your coworkers could talk about is how handsome your husband was. WIth his white hair, sparkling blue eyes - all they could go on about was how beautiful he looked and how cute your kids were. Multiple of them had asked you how he was in bed, which you ignored. Obviously.

You had mentioned it to Satoru in passing, which you’re sure prompted the tulips in his hand. And you know that egomaniac was about to have a field day.

He comes to your side, not missing the shining smiles on your coworkers faces, as he places the tulips in front of you. He beckons you to stand up, holding your white coat open for you to pull your arms in.

You give him a glare as you pull it on and Satoru clips your badge to the pocket.

“I hate you, Satoru Gojo.”

“I love you, sweet pea.”

You can hear your coworkers cooing quietly behind you, walking up to dote on Satoru for bringing you flowers. You can feel him drinking up the attention, giving everyone charming smiles as he secures his arm around your waist.

“Imagine if I told them all you had a girlfriend when you married me.” you whisper in his ear.

He frowns, prodding his fingers into your forehead.

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“Watch me.”

Satoru places the flowers at the head of your desk, dropping a glass box filled with the noodles you had last night for dinner. He leans over the counter, whispering at you as you fill out the charts for the day.

“Take a break for lunch later and eat this. I’m tired of you coming home hangry and taking it out on me.”

You take the box from him, rolling your eyes before shooting him a smile.

“Thank you, Toru. I appreciate it.”

He smiles at your words, leaning over to press a kiss to your forehead before running out of the office. Asshole.

You look down at the tupperware, a sticky note pressed on top.

eat up silly wife - satoru <3

You take the post-it off, pressing it against the frame holding the picture.

“Why did your parents want to meet us again?”

You and Satoru are currently standing on the porch of his parents house, dressed up for the occasion. Satoru’s wearing a buttoned up white shirt, rolled up to his forearms again. He’s wearing a light green tie, intending to match the green, silk dress you had decided to wear.

He asked you to look your best, because he was going to ask his parents for something really important. He said bringing you would be his best bet, so that they feel more inclined to say yes at the perfect sight of the two of you.

“I thought your parents were in Bali. Did they come back early?”

“Yeah. They hated the animals so they came back.”

“The what?”

Satoru reaches forward, ringing the doorbell. The door is opened immediately, the servants answering the door. You wave hello to them all, making your way to the garden where Satoru was leading you.

His hand is clasped in yours, firmly, as he leads you to the back gazebo. He takes you to the direct center, where the two of you had first made your deal, and turns to face you.

“So.”

“My parents aren’t here.”

“I gathered that.”

“Don’t talk back.”

He reaches towards the back of the gazebo, pulling out a plastic box. In the box, there’s a matching corsage and boutonniere, pink flowers surrounded by baby’s breath. You take the box in your hand, meeting his gaze.

“You never got to have your moment. Figured I’d give it to you now.”

You smile, opening the plastic box. Satoru takes the corsage out first, securing it against your wrist. He lifts your hand, pressing a kiss against your knuckles as he does so. You avoid the blood rushing to your cheeks as you take the rest of the flowers out of the box.

You pin the boutonniere against his shirt, smiling at him. You’re unsure when Tsumiki and Megumi joined you, but the flash of Tsumiki’s camera catches you off guard. You give the two of them a smile and they run off hand in hand, leaving the two of you alone again.

“Like it?”

“Love it. They’re very pretty, Satoru. Thank you.”

He reaches back, pulling out a little juke box. He presses play, Ed Sheeran’s Thinking Out Loud playing out of the speaker.

“Did you really pick this song?”

“You wanted your moment. That includes dancing to a cheesy, Ed Sheeran song.”

“You could have left that part out.”

He grabs your hands, placing them around his neck as he secures his own around your waist.

“Nope. Giving you the most authentic, real moment I can.”

The two of you sway, laughing into each other's neck as the song goes on. The song transitions, Taylor Swift’s Sweet Nothing blasting out of the little speaker. You press yourself against his chest, the two of you hugging as you dance in the moonlight.

“I’ve got one more thing for you.”

He reaches out, pulling out a little plastic tiara for you. He secures it on top of your head, pressing your hair down.

“I don’t get it.”

“You’re Prom Queen!”

You press yourself against him again, your cheeks burning against his chest.

“You’re stupid, Satoru.”

“You love it.”

You do love it. The tiara, the dancing, him. You love him.

The two of you return to swaying, your faces a few feet away from each others. You stare into his glimmering eyes, smiling at him. He returns your smile, rolling his eyes at your cheesiness.

“You don’t have a crown.”

“Yeah. Figured if I got to be Prom King and you didn’t during high school, then you get to be Prom Queen right now and I don’t. Even it out.”

“Boo.”

“It’s okay. I know I’m the king of your heart anyways.”

You feel your chest clench, his words sinking into your chest.

“You are.”

“What?”

“The king of my heart. Body and soul, all that cheesy stuff you say.”

“Don’t lead me on. That’s cruel, even for you little lady.”

You stop swaying, bringing your hands down to his.

“I’m being serious. You’re special to me. I was waiting for someone all my life, who made me feel special. That person is you.”

He’s staring into your eyes, the shock spreading across his face.

“You don’t have to feel the same way as me. It’s okay.”

He leans forward, pressing his lips against yours. You’re caught off guard, his hands pulling you closer.

“Toru.”

“Y/N.”

“Do you love me?”

“You’re impossible. I just kissed you.”

“I don’t know. I was a little confused, I guess.”

“I love you, Y/N. You’re my sweet, sweet girl.”

You can feel yourself blushing at his words, trying to fight the doubt settling in your mind.

“Utahime?”

“I thought about what you said. And I realized that the only person who stays by my side is you - through an arranged marriage, two kids I sprung on you, and a literal girlfriend. The right person was you, just took me a second to realize.”

The two of you stand in silence, the lights flickering above you.

“Satoru?”

“Yes, sweet girl?”

“Can you kiss me again?”

He’s all too happy to oblige. He lifts you up, slotting his mouth against yours again. You can feel his hands shaking against your face, his lips desperately pressed around yours.

“Calm down. I’m right here.”

“Cut me some slack. I’ve been waiting to kiss my wife for months now.”

You feel Tsumiki and Megumi return to your side, the two of them sporting cheeky grins at the two of you. Megumi presses something into the small of you hand and you feel for it in your fingers realizing what it was.

A ring.

“Toru.”

“Yes, sweet girl?”

He’s cradling your face and you can’t help but feel like this was going to be the happiest moment of your life. Your face in his hands, your kids hugging you against your legs, smiling at each other.

You hold the ring out, balancing it between your fingers.

“Marry me?”

You slip the ring onto his finger, the two of you walking out of the garden hand in hand like you did the first time.

part two based on enchanted linked here

the satoru as taylor swift songs series masterlist

1K notes · View notes

moonyswritinq · 11 days

Note

charles x american!reader? inspo from the song so american by olivia rodrigo? like him just making fun of an american accent lol

so american — charles rowland x gn reader

❝ SO AMERICAN ❞

SYNOPSIS ➢ Headcanons for Charles with an American reader, based on Olivia Rodrigo’s song ‘So American’.

PAIRING ➢ charles rowland x american gender neutral reader

CONTENT WARNING ➢ pining, banter, implicit sex, ish-canon timeline, no use of y/n

WORD COUNT ➢3.3 k

AUTHORS NOTE ➢ I didn’t know if you wanted a one shot or headcanons, but I felt like this would best fit as a mix of the two. I sort of got carried away. thank you for the request and hope you enjoy!

And if you do enjoy, I URGE you to like, reblog AND comment!!! It's so important to me as a writer.

MASTERLIST, TAG LIST

Drivin' on the right-side road He says I'm pretty wearin' his clothes And he's got hands that make Hell seem cold Feet on the dashboard, he's like a poem I wish I wrote I wish I wrote

Charles had a habit of taking everything lightly and making jokes to play off serious situations, something that could bother you at times.

The first time you met, for instance, was one of those times.

You were driving down the road of your little town and had to slam the brakes as to not run over the incredibly handsome, but incredibly stupid, boy that had just tried to cross the road.

You had honked at him and he looked up in surprise before immediately being pulled back by the hands of a red-headed girl. He broke out in a grin as you drove off with a scoff, internally cursing him.

The next time you saw him was only later that same day, surprisingly at your family friend’s, and the local butcher’s, shop.

You had walked in an immediately let out a sigh of annoyance, one of which he heard and turned around with that same grin plastered on his face.

“Well, if it isn’t the boy with a death wish,” you muttered, ignoring him and his friends to go up to the counter. Unluckily for you, Jenny was not there.

The boy scratched his neck bashfully. “Yeah, sorry ‘bout that. Forgot you lot drive on the right side of the road, which is technically the wrong side of the road. Just wasn’t looking.”

An eyebrow raised in his direction. English.

He stepped forward with a hand outstretched. “The name’s Charles. Pleased to meet you.”

You took it as a shiver ran up your spine, weirdly so cold to the touch he felt warm. It was the first time you managed to get a proper look at him, admiring his stylish clothes and sharp features. And his eyes were as warm as his hand was, deep swirling pools of darkness that seemed to emit nothing but light. You smiled back, introducing yourself.

“Pleasure. And this is Edwin, Crystal, and Niko,” he introduced his friends behind him, who all gave you a smile except for the uptight-looking Edwin.

“Well, I’ll let you guys get back to it,” you said, turning back to the counter as Jenny came out. You handed her the keys to the car with a wink. “Thanks for letting me borrow your car, Jenny. Told you I would return it without a scratch.”

She raised a doubtful eyebrow. “That is left to be seen, kiddo.”

You were about to turn around just when you caught the end of the other teenagers’ conversation. “Did you guys just say ‘Point No Point?” you asked and swivelled around to face them.

Niko nodded enthusiastically, briefly glancing at the boys. “Yeah, we’re going there for a—um, to meet someone there.”

“That’ll take ages without a car,” you remarked.

Crystal sighed. “Well, I can’t drive. How are we gonna get there?”

Your lips lifted into the beginning of a smirk as you turned back to Jenny. She heaved a deep sigh and threw back the keys into your hands.

Your smile broke out as you thanked her and motioned for the others to follow you. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.”

Charles insisted on sitting in the front seat beside you, his feet up on the dashboard, tapping his finger along to the music in the car. You thought it was oddly charming.

You had asked what their whole deal was and Niko had inevitably revealed that they were the Dead Boy Detectives and that Charles was, in fact, dead. Upon hearing it, you almost slammed the breaks again in pure shock but managed to keep driving as if nothing.

And he laughs at all my jokes And he says I'm so American

It also started raining on your way there, making you groan in frustration as you remarked that “all this water is going to get Jenny’s car so muddy.”

“‘Wa-der,’” he had chuckled under his breath.

In an instant, you had turned to him with a harsh glare. “What?”

“Nothing,” came his amused reply. “You’re just so American.”

It wasn’t nothing, though. It was the first of many remarks against your American accent.

You had arrived at the lighthouse and very warily gotten out of the car. Somehow you had gotten roped up in their case and was now there to help them out through the end.

Charles had noticed your shivering in the cold rain and offered you his jacket which, despite ghost physics, was quite heavy and warm. You supposed ghosts couldn’t really get wet by normal rain, as both Edwin and Charles seemed unbothered by it.

You had tried to argue against taking it, claiming that you wouldn’t want to ‘strip him of any of his Britishness’, to which he had only scoffed and heaved the thing onto you while saying, “so American of you to assume my Britishness can be stripped away merely by my coat.”

Charles had then given you an appraising look and, while the others were distracted by the ghosts on the pier, bent down slightly to say, “You look pretty wearing my clothes.”

Your cheeks had warmed immediately and you’d turned away to not give it away, earning a chuckle. It made you smile though.

He learnt quickly that complimenting you would earn him a blush and a soft nudge against his ribcage, which made him do it even more.

That was also when he liked pointing out your accent. It started as a small observation, but eventually evolved into insults and bits.

He did it every chance he got; saying ‘lit-er-ally’ with an over-exaggerated vocal fry; ‘aloominum’; ‘hey, y’all’; and, his absolute favourite of them all, ‘i’m walkin here!’. Half of them made you laugh incessantly and the other half made you drag a hand over your face in frustration.

The worst was when he would parrot you personally, making you half wondering if you should be ashamed of your accent. When you had asked him about it, though, he had been quick to assure you that he loved your accent.

And that was when you started doing it back to him.

It became a game for the two of you, often just imitating each other’s accents.

“Are you ‘schewpid’?” you asked, turning to him.

He chuckled dryly, cocking his head in your direction. “Yeah, yeah, while you’re throwing insults at me I am just going to go grab a ‘kawfee’.”

You scoffed. “You’re a ghost, Charles. You can’t have coffee.”

“I can, but it just tastes disgusting.”

“Okay, well, while you’re at it, ‘kan I please ‘ave a cupa wa’a’?” you said, meeting his defiant gaze before he burst out in laughter. It made your insides warm knowing you were the cause of that laugh.

“Would you two please stop it?” came Crystal’s irritated reply. Edwin only rolled his eyes at your antics but you knew he agreed with Crystal’s discontent. You caught Charles’ gaze and broke out in a smile.

“I don’t know,” said Niko, fiddling with her fingers, “I think it’s cute when they do that.”

And just like that, you both fell silent and turned away from each other.

Oh, God, it's just not fair of him To make me feel this much I'd go anywhere he goes

You knew you liked him, a lot. But you hadn’t dared admit anything to him or anyone else and tried your best to hide it—not that you were doing a very good job.

The only thing that knew what you felt were the thrown-away poems you had written on a whim, his beaming face starkly imprinted in your mind.

You didn’t think it was fair for him to make you feel that much, enough to actually write poems about him. God, you were whipped (Charles would have definitely made fun of your using that word if he heard it).

You came with the Dead Boy Detectives on all their cases, now an honorary member in their Detective Agency. You enjoyed a lot of detective stories, like Sherlock Holmes and so seemingly had absorbed some of it, because you were quite good at figuring out clues.

It was all practically worth it to see Charles' smile directed at you after you had discovered something.

God, I'm so boring, and I'm so rude Can't have a conversation if it's not all about you The way you dress, and the books you read

And despite it all, you didn’t feel quite enough for him. He was a charismatic and vibrant person, while you thought of yourself as quite rude and boring.

Sometimes you wondered if you were too harsh in your remarks at Charles’ britishness, but then remembered his always-present smile that met your gaze and your worries fell away.

Nothing had happened up until that point, but it became increasingly more difficult denying anything being between you two.

Even Edwin started catching on and asking if something was between you two, which lead to some very awkward silences where Charles would drag Edwin away with an apologetic smile thrown your way.

Until finally it got too difficult to deny.

Niko would ask you something about a case and somehow you would end up talking about Charles’ smile, his eyes, the way he dressed and what he was interested in. She finally got so sick of it and decided to just call you out on it.

“You like Charles.”

You opened your mouth to protest but she put a finger against your lips, causing you to be too stunned to speak.

“And don’t say that you don’t, because it’s obvious,” she said, removing her finger.

“It’s not that obvious, is it?” you asked. You refused to meet her gaze and instead tried to look anywhere but her.

“Yes, it is.” She sighed, bringing her hands up to clasp your shoulders. “We all know it. Even Charles. But he won’t admit it either, so please go talk to him before we all die.”

You rolled your eyes, but felt a small smile start to form on your lips. “OK, just a little dramatic there?”

Niko shook her head with a serious expression on her face. “No. Now go find him.”

She had shooed you away after that, making sure that both Edwin and Crystal were distracted enough so that you could slip out to talk to Charles privately.

You found him in the other room, rooting through his backpack to find something ridiculously large, no wonder.

And he says I'm so American Oh, God, I'm gonna marry him If he keeps this shit up I might just be in lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-, lo-lo-lo-lo-love

He seemed to have heard your footsteps as you were coming in because he tilted his head in your directing, flashing his trademark smile.

The sight of it made you swoon and you had to take a deep breath in order to collect your thoughts. When he finally asked what was up, your words came out jumbled and very much not like you had planned them to come out.

“Hey, hey,” he said, taking ahold of your shoulders and meeting your nervous gaze with his steady one. “Take a deep breath. C’mon, breathe with me.”

You did as he said, breathing with him, trying and failing to ignore the shivers that spread along with his touch. When you had collected yourself, he smiled and let go, much to your disappointment.

“That’s it. Now, what’s on your mind?” he asked.

You strode past him, opting to face the window instead of seeing his face. It only made it harder to get out any coherent sentences. “Why’d you think anything was on my mind?”

“Well,” remarked Charles, strolling after you, “it’s not everyday you storm in here as if the world is ending and then end up babbling like a stroke patient.”

You stared at him in horror before rolling your eyes. “Stop being so British, Charles.”

“Sorry, no can do, love.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?” you muttered to yourself.

“What?” he asked immediately, striding right in front of you so he could look you in the eyes.

“Look,” you started, refusing to meet his eye and instead looking anywhere else. Although, you could feel his gaze burning into your skull. “I might have developed some… feelings for you.”

Charles’ eyes widened at your words and you tried to turn again but he grabbed your shoulder to hold you in place. You sighed and finally met his gaze. His eyes were the same mysterious pools of darkness that you were used to, but you might have fooled yourself to imagine something else in them—something hopeful.

You decided to continue your confession because you were far past the point of redemption and might as well get it all out in one go.

“And the problem is, Charles, that however hard I try not to, I keep developing feelings for you. Even your annoying habits and antics cause me to fall for you. And, I swear to God, that if you keep this shit up I’m going to be properly gone for you.”

You waited a breath for his reaction, but when nothing came you were forced to ask him again. “Charles?”

“Uh, yeah,” he stammered out, his voice suddenly dry and cracked. “Sorry, I—uh, I was not prepared for that.”

You shrugged. “That’s alright. We’ll just go back to being friends. Nothing needs to change.”

He shook his head violently. “That’s absolutely not OK.”

You had but a moment to be surprised before he went in for the best kiss you had had yet in your short life. He held you like he had never touched anything before in his life and kissed you like he was a dying man and you were the cure. You weren't sure how much of it he could feel, but the psychological effect was immediate and mind blowing.

He may be dead but he had never felt more alive than in that moment.

I really love my bed, but, man, it's hard to sleep when he's with me When he's with me

Your relationship escalated quickly after that first kiss. You didn’t define it as anything, but it made you happier just knowing he was there by your side—and you could all him yours.

And you wasted no time in physically progressing your relationship—AKA you did not get much sleeping done.

It was a different kind of vulnerable, allowing yourself to give your soul and body to Charles, and him trusting you with himself.

Because of his being a ghost, it felt like so much more an emotional and psychological experience which only made you appreaciate it, and him, more.

By the looks of it, he enjoyed it as well—more than enjoyed it. He couldn’t stop smiling at you afterwards, while he laid on the bed beside you and gazed at you with half-dazed eyes.

Charles let himself curl around you, embracing you. You weren’t sure if ghosts could get tired, but nonetheless he whispered out a, “I’m knackered.”

You had nuzzled into the crook of his neck. “You’re so British.”

He kissed your forehead softly, and you felt it more than you had ever felt him before. “And you’re so American.”

You only chuckled and let yourself drift off to sleep in his arms holding you close.

You never wanted to get out of bed or leave him, and he utilised that fact to his every advantage.

He did everything he could to keep you in bed with him, even though he probably didn’t sleep much, just wanting to hold you close.

It wasn’t fair how easy he made your heart melt.

I apologize if it's a little too much, just a little too soon But if the conversation ever were to come up I don't wanna assume this stuff But ain't it love? I think I'm in love

It didn’t take long for you to know that it wasn’t merely affection you felt for Charles, but something much deeper.

You didn’t want to presume Charles felt anything close to what you felt, though.

So you continued acting like whatever the two of you were—kissing and hooking up—not quite a couple but not quite friends with benefits, but something in between that went deep between you two.

Without any real definition for what you two were, it frightened you out of saying anything to him.

So you kept going with the featherlight kisses, the quiet giggles after one of you said a joke and were trying to cover it up as to not disturb the rest of the group, and the endless nights where you could be in his arms and have not a care in the world.

But it was on your mind, constantly.

Oh, how you just wished to say those three words to him, to just have it out in the open. So he could have you with the truth staring into his face and do with you what he pleased.

You wanted to splay yourself open for him, vulnerable and unafraid, show him yourself and let him love you back with the same ferocity with which you loved.

And finally, it became too much.

He was on his way out for one of the cases, one of which you chose not to go with them to. He had just collected all his belongings in that backpack of his and went in for a goodbye kiss.

“Be careful,” you whispered between parted lips, leaving the ghost of your words on his mouth. He smiled through it and pulled away.

“Always am,” came his cheeky reply, winking at you before turning to the door. “Bye.”

“Bye,” you called, and then, without thinking, “Love you.”

It took a mere moment for his brain to register your words before he halted and slowly turned in his step.

“What?”

Your own eyes widened in surprise of yourself and you were quick to come up with a way to play it off as a mistake or a stumble upon your words. But he crossed the distance between you with long strides, dropping his backpack and bringing his hands up to hold your cheeks tenderly.

“What did you just say?” he whispered, eyes shifting back and forth between yours trying to find the truth in your words. Your mouth fell agape, but you couldn’t find the words to tell him again, so close now so that you could feel his short breaths of air on your skin. “Please,” he said again, voice so soft you had to strain to hear him.

“I mean, it might be a little too much, too soon, and I don’t want to assume anything, but..” Your voice trailed off, breaking. Your lips fought to form the words that so desperately wanted to make their way out of you. “But I—I love you, Charles.”

He breathed out huge sigh of relief and captured your lips with his. “I love you too,” he whispered between breaths, barely audible.

Your smile could not be hindered as he kissed you back, fiercely and passionately. He kept pressing kisses on your mouth, on the corner of your lips, trailing to your cheeks, to your neck, down to your shoulders and your chest. All the while he kept repeating those same three words, “I love you,” over and over again, pressing them into your skin. Into your soul, essentially.

Your hands were grasped in his hair, fingers curling around his locks as you felt every touch of his lips that brought forth a shiver down your spine. Not from the coldness, though, but from the feeling of his soul connecting to yours.

He kept pressing featherlight kisses to you with small ‘I love you’s, and you couldn’t fight the laugh that escaped its way through you.

“Okay, stop it” you whispered, pulling his head away to grasp his face in your hands. You met his eyes with a smile and his beaming grin made your insides melt. “I love you so much, Charles.”

He laughed, pressing another kiss to your lips. “I love you too.”

“Now, come on, you got a case to solve.”

Charles let himself be lead away to the others, refusing to let go of your hand. He even pressed kisses to the back of it every chance he got, and you were roped into going to the case with the rest of them, if only not to leave Charles’ side.

Tag list: @a-gay-dumbass @eunxhan @loverclear @shobolanya @edit-me-prettyplease @bookholichany @heartsfromcoco @scriblezz

#moonyswritinq #dead boy detectives #dead boy detective agency #dead boy detective spoilers #charles rowland #charles rowland x reader #charles rowland x gn reader #x reader #x male reader #x gn reader #dbd #dbd fanfic #dbd x reader #dead boy detectives x reader

183 notes · View notes

going-to-ikea-for-the-fries · 3 months

Text

Talk. || baby daddy!Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

[MASTERLIST]

Rating: M Words: 2.2K~ Pairing: dad!gaz x mother!reader CW: canon-typical violence, events of MW2019 (references), CHILD DEATH (mentioned), pregnancy, underage!! pregnancy, some cultural/religious judgements regarding underage/out-of-wedlock pregnancy, birth (references). Tags: you/your pronouns, (reader implied female because 'mum', 'mama' and other nicknames are used + mentions of pregnant!user), hurt/comfort, fluff?, military inaccuracies I'm sure. Summary: Gaz and the reader are co-parents of a 10-year-old girl (the result of a teen pregnancy). Gaz calls home to talk to his family and he's having a bit of a breakdown after a mission. a/n: This happens in the MW2019 game timeline, somewhere after the Butcher's interrogation. NOT PROOFREAD, NO BETA WE DIE LIKE MEN.

“SIMISOLA RUBY GARRICK, I WILL NOT CALL YOU AGAIN, GET DOWN HERE!” You shout at the top of your lungs, your voice reverberating all the way to the upper floor of your small townhouse.

“IN A MINUTE!” The girl’s voice calls out from upstairs for the… umpteenth time in the last 10 minutes.

“I swear, Kyle, this girl will be the death of me one of these days.” You tell him. “I’m not well-equipped to deal with a teenager.” You grumble as you look at Kyle’s face on the phone screen.

“She’s not a teen yet, lovie.” He retorts with a little smile. “She’s only 10.” He reminds you.

“She’s teenager enough for my taste. Bloody ignoring me whenever I call her!” You reply with a bit of a huff.

“She’s gettin’ older.” He says simply. “You tellin’ me you obeyed your mum every day at her age?” He asks.

“No, but…” You trail off and sigh, dejectedly. “I hate when you make sense, you know that?” You retort, glaring right at him with your best attempt at the ‘mum stare’, but it’s not as effective through the phone.

“Sorry, mama. One of us has to.” She adds with a mischievous smirk on his full lips. He knows how much you like it when he calls you that.

“Shut it, Garrick, I don’t want to hear it.” You retort and you can hear, and see, him giggling on the other side.

From the way the area around him has gotten progressively darker as you spoke for the last 30 minutes, you can tell he’s somewhere out East, somewhere where the sun is starting to set, since in Birmingham it’s only 3 P.M. and still fully bright outside.

“How’s the OP goin’?” You ask despite knowing that he’s not allowed to say anything about it so he simply shoots you a look before raising his fingers to bring a cigarette to his lips, taking a good long drag.

“It’s goin’ fine enough.” He adds and shrugs, before looking off to the distance just off-camera. He’s… lying. You can tell from the way his eyes furrow and his scarred cheek scrunches in frustration.

Turning your head back up, you aim your eyes at the stairs. “BLOODY FUCKIN’ HELL, SIMI, DAD’S ON THE PHONE FOR YOU!” You announce to what, at this point, has to be the ghosts that kidnapped your daughter because she refuses to come downstairs.

Your ears pick up on the sound of her bedroom door flying open and her feet taking her through the carpeted hall and down the steps.

You watch her coming through the vintage, little pass-through window in your kitchen. “Did’ya say dad?!” The dark-skinned girl says as she comes sliding around the corner and into the room.

“Oh, THAT lights a fire under your arse, innit? But not all those other times I told you to come down? What if I was dying, huh?” You scold her and she immediately smiles the same impish smile your baby daddy is sporting on the phone screen. He loves seeing you be maternal.

“Sorry, Mamsie.” She says while showing absolutely no regret at all in her young features. Shaking your head, you pass the phone over to Simi, whose face lights up at the sight of Kyle. “Dad!”

“Oi, kiddo!” You hear Kyle say through the phone as Simisola takes the phone with her down to the sitting room and parks herself on the sofa, talking about all sorts of things with her dad.

You watch her for a moment through the pass-through window. She’s bouncing excitedly, talking about school, her mates, her grades… It’s not often she gets to talk to Gaz, less even that she gets to see him.

Sometimes you wonder if the unpredictability of his job is going to mess her up one day. I mean, her chances of that are already high enough considering the two of you are merely 28 and have been raising her since you were still kids yourselves… But the fact he’s more gone than around in her day-to-day life is bound to mess her up too…

Maybe you should get her into some therapy, just in case.

But then again, she seems surprisingly unaffected by all of this. She’s healthy, smart, sweet… a bit of a smartass (she takes after her dad in that)... And above all else, she seems... happy.

All things considered, of all the blokes that could’ve gotten you knocked up at seventeen, Kyle Garrick was the best option… And your daughter was the best outcome possible.

Sure, you weren’t official or anything back then (nor are you now, really... though you share a bed and a home and you kiss and-), the pregnancy had been an unforeseen consequence of a tryst in the back of a car after drinking at the local pub… But looking back, you got lucky.

Either way, you were both too young, too eager, too needy, too… stupid. Neither of you thought of condoms, hoping the ‘trusty’ pull-out method would suffice.

It didn’t.

You still remember the way you had a panic attack in a toilet stall at school, you and a girlfriend skipping class to pop over to Tesco and buy a box of pregnancy tests… She took one with you, just to ease your worries… And then yours came out positive.

The fear and absolute dread you felt was paralyzing, the way you stayed holed up in the loo while your friend tried to console you and used her fuschia Motorola Razr to text your other friends to come to the toilets after class.

From there, your girlfriends texted his mates, and by the time you noticed, Kyle was elbowing his way into the bathroom, past the group of waiting students, all of them mutual friends of you both. He spotted you sitting on the dirty tile floor in the corner, eyes glued on the pregnancy test in your hand. You were ugly crying, snot all over, and hyperventilating.

Even back then, Kyle was already years ahead of any other teen you knew. He was mature and calm, collected… He sat beside you, rubbed your back, and told you it’d all be okay. You know deep down that he only held it together to calm you down but once he was alone he probably cried like a baby too.

His parents are Nigerian immigrants. In their minds, there was an order of doing things and their only son getting a girl pregnant before marriage (or before hitting maturity, really) was NOT it.

And your parents, well… They weren’t very happy about it either. Not that any parent ever is when their daughter comes home and drops the bomb that she’s expecting.

That was a bad moment for your lives… You both lived with your parents and you had to go back and forth between school and baby appointments… Kyle was by your side the whole time (or as much as he could, considering he had enlisted as soon as he hit 18) and both your parents tried their best to be supportive… But you never quite earned Mr. and Mrs. Garrick’s affection. Not even now, 10 years later.

At first, they didn’t even want to believe the baby was Kyle’s. Your father ended up having some very heated choice words with Mr. Garrick, defending your honor, and almost bringing the house down screaming that you weren’t a slag.

You were on edge and depressed back then. Once the news spread, most of your friends stopped hanging out with you out of pressure put on by their own parents… They still smiled at you and showed encouragement to you whenever you saw each other… But they didn’t come over anymore, barely spoke to you in the halls…

People stared in the streets… Whenever you went into a baby shop or the diaper aisle at the supermarket… You were stared at. The whispers of “Look at her, such a slag”, “So young and already up the duff…” never came, at least not that you heard them, but you found yourself clutching your mum’s arm particularly hard whenever she managed to drag you out of the flat and to the shops.

You don’t like looking back on the pictures of that year in sixth form. As much as you love your child, seeing the way your face became hollow and sad, your eyes weighed down by dark circles as your belly grew consistently until nothing you wore fit you right… It still stung.

You wonder how you managed to retain enough mental faculties to not earn yourself a post-partum depression diagnosis. Whatever your brain did, it did it well...

With her skin all wrinkly and red and screaming at the top of her lungs, her little fists shaking, eyes all glossy, and a little clump of dark hair on her head slicked back by the amniotic fluid… You fell in love with Simi the moment the nurses set her against your bare chest.

And Kyle did too. You could see it in the way his eyes softened, his lip trembled and his nose and chin scrunched up to contain a wail. As soon as he held her in his arms for the first time, so small against his chest, her little body wrapped in a blanket against his fatigues... you started openly weeping at the sight, blaming the hormones, but the fact of the matter was that she was so small, so tender, so… perfect.

You tune out most of your daughter’s conversation with her father as you go about preparing dinner for the two of you, moving about the kitchen, lost in your own thoughts.

Your ears perk up when you hear Kyle ask Simi if she can pass the phone back to you and let the two of you have a conversation. The girl complains a bit about how much she misses him but ends up acquiescing to him. Daddy’s girl, she is.

She rushes over, her mini twists bouncing with each step as she drops the phone onto your hand and then waves an exaggerated “See you soon, dad!”. You watch her bounce away and trot back up the stairs before you look down at the phone.

Putting on your earpods, you set the phone down on the counter, propped up by the flour container so you can still be in frame as you go about breading some thin chicken cutlets.

“What is it, Kyle?” You ask him softly and raise your brows at him. His face is a lot more grim and he lights a second cigarette.

“We lost a kid.” He replies softly. “A little boy in Urzikstan.” He adds and sighs loudly. Your whole face twists lightly into sadness. “Some… fuckin’ plonker of a terrorist…” He trails off.

“Did you kill him?” You ask him and he nods his head solemnly. You’ve learned long ago not to give your input too much on these topics… He’s chosen to keep you and your daughter away from it all…

He once mentioned that asking to be let in would be like 'dipping your pinkie toe in a pond, never knowing if something would be reaching up to pull you in'. You swore he got that quote from a John Wick movie, and then you both laughed… But you knew he meant the sentiment of it.

“I had to stoop down to his level first.” He tells you as he takes another drag os his new cigarette. “Threatened his wife… his son… to get him to talk.” He trails off and sucks in a sharp breath.

Even with the progressive darkness that has set in now, wherever he is, you can still spot the way his nose scrunches as he tries to hold in his crying… His voice is still steady, but his eyes… Always so expressive… You’ve learned to read them in 10 years of co-parenting.

“Every time that bloody barrel even went slightly near that kid’s face I-” Kyle trembles out a breath and rolls his shoulders. Then, he goes quite.

“Anyways…” He says, trying to deflect his feelings away from the things he’s had to do. “I… I miss Simi… And I miss you.” He adds.

“We miss you too, Kyle.” You reply, trying your best to be positive for him. He needs it. “She can’t stop talking about you, counting down the days ‘till you walk through that door and come wrap her in one of those alledgedly ‘annoying’ bear hugs of yours.” You quip and a genuine smirk forms on his lips.

He nods and you notice him through away his cigarette and move somewhere else. As he walks you notice the space is brighter, the camera is facing upwards, and you can see the ceiling and ceiling lights… But above all else, you see his handsome face, the light wisp of a mustache and a goatee, the scar on his left cheek, his tired eyes, and disheveled hair.

He crosses a threshold into another darkened space, but this one is much quieter. You hear some shuffling sounds and even though now you really can’t see shit, you know he’s there, staring at you… And you know he’s lying down.

“Lovie… Can I ask you a favour?” He says as he sighs deeply and slowly.

“Yeah, what is it?” You end up saying as you set aside the breaded cutlets and wash your hands.

“Tell me everything I’m missing. Tell me everything that Simisola did and said… Tell me about your day… about work… share all the gossip you’ve got…” He requests.

“Just… Just talk my bloody ear off.” He pleads. “I just need to hear your voice.” He adds, his tone a lot more gentler. “Please…”.

#ikea writes 💚#kyle gaz garrick #gaz deserves respect #baby daddy!gaz #father!gaz #fatherhood #cod modern warfare #cod fanfic #teenage pregnancy #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle “gaz” garrick #kyle “gaz” garrick x reader

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yunho0o0o0o · 10 months

Text

right, babe?

pairing: yandere! dom! san x sub! fem! reader

genre: smut, yandere

tags: virgin reader and san, corruption, best friend! San, loss of virginity, minimal plot, cum eating, vaginal fingering, light marking, possessiveness, unprotected sex (use protection kiddos), creampie

note: hello! I have emerged from my cave to post smut once again. requests are open! I write for ateez and seventeen. feedback is greatly appreciated, hope you enjoy :) (not edited)

wordcount: 1.5k

You press a hand against his chest to keep the distance between you, but he grabs your wrist and pulls you into his arms. Looking up, you meet his smug look with an exasperated one.

“San, I told you this is ridiculous. Stop trying to make something out of nothing. They were just messing around.” Your friend just had to mention your attraction to him in a casual conversation, leading you to the situation you’re currently in.

Since they had left he’d been continuously hounding you on the significance of their comment.

"Messing around, huh? You know, pushing me away just makes it sweeter when you finally cave into your desire for me." He trails his hands down your arms and eventually, he holds your hands in his own. "You can't deny you want me in the same way I've desired you for months, darling."

He guides your arms to lace around his neck, then places a hand on the small of your back, pressing you further into him. You nearly bury your face in his neck just to hide your flushed face.

"I-I don't..." You struggle to find the words, but he's quick to shut down your response with a tight squeeze of your hips.

"Oh come on, babe. I see the way you look at me. You aren’t as subtle as you try to be.” Previously when he’d call you babe, it would be in a jokingly flirty manner. You had always thought that was just how he was with all of his friends. But now, you weren’t so sure about your past assumptions.

“Are you being serious with me right now?” you ask, voice full of nerves. You dodge eye contact with him, but his hand pulls your chin up to match your gaze to his. His voice quiets to a whisper as he leans into you.

“Of course I am.” A gentle smile graces his features as he awaits your response. You wrap yourself around him in a hug with a small sigh of relief.

“I’m really glad to hear that, San…” A moment of silence passes between you two before you continue. “What they said was true. I… I like you. As more than a friend.” You tense up when the man in front of you remains quiet until he looks up at you with a bright, teasing smile.

“Sorry, what was that? I don’t think I heard you.” He goes as far as to put a hand to his ear and tilt his head. You playfully shove him.

“Nevermind, I take it back.”

“Hey, no take-backs! You already said it!” He stares at you with puppy eyes for a long moment before you give in and the both of you are falling onto your bed, laughing until you’re clutching your sides.

It takes a while for you to regain your composure. When you do, he’s laying with his head propped up on his hand and his curious eyes follow yours.

“So, you like me huh?”

“Yeah, I do,” your response comes out as barely a whisper, eyes darting nervously between the ceiling and his form.

“I like you too. You know that?”

“Mhm,” you nod.

“I don’t think you understand just how much I like you.” You let out a confused hum, prompting him to continue. “Can I show you, babe? Show you how much you mean to me?” You nod hesitantly.

Instantly he leans over you, arms encasing you on the bed.

“Let me touch you. I’ll treat you well, darling.”

“Okay…” you whisper. He hovers over your body, his head placed just above your ear. Body heat radiates in the small space between you.

“I need a more enthusiastic response if you actually want me to do anything with you, babe.” It takes you a moment to steel your nerves before responding firmly.

“I want you, San. Touch me, please.”

“That’s my girl. You’ll be good for me, won’t you?”

You nod. When he stays silent and raises an eyebrow at you, you add on a verbal ‘yes’. This seems to satisfy him because he settles his weight next to you on the bed.

His tongue flicks at the column of your throat while he takes his time to explore your body with his hands. The warmth of his palms slips under the fabric of your shirt to tenderly squeeze at your breasts.

It’s not long before he’s stripping the both of you completely and disregarding the fabric in a heap on the floor. The room is quiet save for the soft rustle of the bed sheets and your combined heavy breathing.

One of his hands finds its way to your chest again, gently squeezing at the flesh. His body looms over yours on the mattress and a teasing grin lights up his face.

Three fingers press into your mouth when your lips part to let out a moan. You swirl your tongue around the digits, covering them with your spit. After some time, he takes them from your mouth and positions them at your entrance.

With your reassurance, he gently presses two of his fingers into you. His fingers scissor inside you for a moment before he starts pushing them in and out of you.

Eventually, he adds a third. With each thrust, he presses them upwards into your g-spot. The sensation has you tensing your thighs, pressing your legs tighter around San’s frame.

You raise a hand over your mouth, trying to muffle the whines coming from your lips. His free hand grabs yours and holds it against the mattress next to your head.

“Let me hear you, baby. I think I deserve at least that after you took back your confession earlier.”

He continues at that same pace until you’re panting for air, head hung back in pleasure. A jolt of warmth shoots down your spine and you tighten even more around him, straining your whole body. His thrusts slow down and eventually, he pulls his fingers out of you.

He pulls your chin up to meet his heated gaze. Once your eyes meet, he presses the same fingers that were just inside you to his tongue. He sucks on his own fingers just as you had before. When he pulls them from his mouth a trail of saliva clings to them.

“You taste even better than I could have imagined.” He pauses for a moment with his heavy gaze on you. His hand absent-mindedly strokes up and down your thigh.

“I’m the first person to make you feel this way. Right, babe? The first to have you whine on my fingers. The first to make you cum.”

“You’re my first, San.”

“You’re my first too, you know that? I’ve never done these kinds of things with anyone else. I was waiting, just for you. I’m the only one who deserves to touch you like this.” His hands slide up and down along the curves of your hips and he lets out a small sigh. “See what happens when you give in to me? I can give you everything you want.”

He leans in close to you and whispers, “What is it you want now, princess?” You have trouble looking at his face as you mumble your answer. He lets out a ‘hmm’ before asking, “What was that? I didn’t quite hear you.”

“Your cock, San. I want your cock. Please give it to me.” A grin splits his face at your admission. He leans back and pushes your legs up toward your chest, pumping his cock a few times before pressing the tip against your entrance.

He slowly pushes it in, stilling every once in a while to let you adjust before continuing. Once he’s fully inside you, he stills for a moment. After your encouragement, San gently starts to move. He holds his body right above yours, his head resting at the intersection of your hair and neck.

From his position, you can clearly hear every noise that comes from his mouth. Every groan, every whimper, goes straight into your ear. His panting matches the pace of his hips.

He slowly pumps into you, gradually building up the pace with each stroke. A slap on your ass has a familiar coil of heat tightening in your abdomen. Eventually, he hits a pace where his hips slam into the flesh of your ass with every thrust. You writhe in pleasure, releasing your built-up tension and clenching hard around him.

His voice breaks in a loud groan as he spills inside you. Slowly, his hips come to a halt inside you. Both of you take in deep gasps of air as you come down from the high of your orgasms.

San bites and sucks at the skin of your neck. Once he's sufficiently marked your neck, he rests next to you on the bed and carefully traces a hand up and down your figure in a comforting gesture. He uses one arm to prop himself up to look at you.

“So we’re like… a thing now, right?”

#yandere ateez #yandere kpop #kpop fanfic #kpop smut #kpop scenario #kpop scenarios #kpop imagines #ateez smut #ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #ateez imagines #ateez scenarios #san x reader #yandere ateez x reader #yandere san x reader #ateez fanfiction #ateez san #san smut #yandere au

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billthedrake · 6 months

Text

NIGHT SHIFT

It was twilight more than actual dawn, but as I heard the sound of the metal clink in Dad's uniform belt, I roused in my bed and saw his beefy build standing by my dresser. Carefully, he removed his service weapon and placed it next to my baseball card collection and my trophies, then did the same with his utility belt.

My eyes took a second to adjust, but I could start to make out his handsome features. Roman nose, round cheeks, thinning hair kept military buzzed.

"Heya kiddo," he whispered when he finally saw me watching, sitting up in bed. Already he was unbuttoning and untucking his uniform shirt, the kevlar vest making his barrel chest even more pronounced beneath.

"Hey Dad," I said. I tried to be quiet, too, but my voice was groggy and my greeting came out louder than I intended.

Not that I probably needed to worry. It's crazy and would be impossible to explain to any outsider. But this was an open secret in our family. Mom knew, my little brothers knew and even if no one talked about it, there was a strange acceptance. Maybe because my parents fought less now. Maybe because I was the star baseball player who was pretty much tapped to get a top pick in the upcoming draft, straight out of high school. I was definitely the Golden Boy. I wouldn't say I was spoiled, because I worked my ass off for my success, but I got a lot of special treatment.

It was a ritual I was getting used to, the way Dad neatly hung up his uniform, putting it in my closet, next to my Sunday best blue blazer and pressed khakis. He wore Jockey style briefs that clung to his meaty ass and heavy genitals. My morning wood was reliable but even if it wasn't I'd have gotten rock hard just watching him.

Finally Dad turned toward the bed with a relaxed smile, taking two steps to approach, then hooked his thumbs in the elastic and slid off his underwear. My father wasn't erect yet, but his dong was getting firmer as he lifted up the bed sheet and crawled in next to me.

"Sorry to wake you, Nolan," he said as he scooted up against me, his strong hands latching on to my sides. "But you do feel nice, buddy...."

"You too, Dad," I said. My dick pressed into the softness of his belly. My father wasn't overweight but he had some love handles on his otherwise hard, regulation-fit body. I loved every bit of him and the way he felt next to me. My hands were matching his move, running along the hard lats and over his meaty ass cheeks.

"This is what I look forward to after a hard shift," he said.

"Tough night?" I asked.

"Yah," he said. Dad didn't talk about the stress of his job in detail, but I liked that he could confide in me. When I was a kid he'd always hide that part of his life from me.

Our lips met. Softly at first but I nudged his mouth with my tongue, and Dad opened up to accept it. He moaned into my mouth as he pawed me more greedily, his hands' urgency a contrast to our restrained kiss.

My own hands were feeling him up excitedly, eventually one moving down to cup his crotch. My dad was rock hard now.

"HMMM," he hissed as we broke the kiss. "You got me hard, buddy."

"I can tell," I said. The daylight was a little brighter in the room now, and I could make out my father's masculine, soulful face up closer. His body felt warm and the scent of him filled my nostrils. My fingers caressed his rigid prick, which jerked in my hand some. "What are you in the mood for, sir?"

With me and Dad it was 50/50. Not only the sex acts we did but who guided how we would mate. After a big game or when we got some extended dad-son time, I generally got to pick. But when Dad was coming off of a night shift, I liked to indulge him.

"Hard to choose," he said. His hand was now moving to feel up my son bone.

"I know what you mean," I said.

He gave a slight, serious smile. It was weird that I was waking up but Dad was tired but fully awake, having been up for a good sixteen or seventeen hours. "I guess I'm trying to say, I want both... you know, flip."

We actually hadn't done that. If I hadn't watched my share of porn, I might not even know what that term meant. But the second he said it, the idea sounded perfect.

Dad must have read the approval on my face because already he was reaching over me, toward the lube I had out on the night stand. This was another thing I no longer bothered to hide. Over the course of the last nine months, we'd gone from only fooling around outside of the house to only doing it when we knew we were alone to.... this. I heard the squirt of the liquid in Dad's palm as I felt up his soft furry torso. Then Dad pumped out more for good measure.

I grinned at him as he now reached between my legs. I had a good jock's body, strong and athletic but over the last few months I'd really gotten more into lifting and my body had responded well. Dad told me he was in love with all of me, not just my muscles, but I still enjoyed the confidence my new build had given me. And Dad's eyes seemed more appreciative.

The fingers felt silky and warm as he fingered me open.

I could hear footsteps in the hall. People were starting to wake up. Dad paused a second and arched his eyebrow. The first time this had happened we were terrified of being discovered. Now my father pulled his big mitt back, wiping some of the excess lube onto my hard prick before slicking up his own.

"Lift your legs, Nolan," he instructed. No longer whispering but talking at full voice.

I was so excited to do so, pulling my legs back in the air, only to have my state trooper father guide them to a resting place on his shoulder. I pulled the extra pillow and Dad did the rest to help me lift my hips to place it beneath me. The angle was perfect, and I clenched my core once I felt Dad's wet meaty prick nudge my folds.

We used to have to go real slow through this part. Dad took my cherry right after my 18th birthday, and for months entry felt cherry-tight. But the last month, we'd both hit a groove. I was still tight, as was my father, but he was able to work himself inside me without too much difficulty.

He was doing it now, his eyes on me, excited to be inside his son once more.

"I love your cock, Dad," I hissed.

He nodded. I didn't know if that was a nod to say he knew how much I loved his dick or a nod to indicate he loved my ass equally. Probably both. "You know, kiddo... you're gonna have to tell me if this is ever too much."

I shook my head no. "You always know how to fuck me, Dad. Always have."

He grunted. "I don't mean physically, Nolan. I mean the other stuff. Everything else."

The words made my cock thrwap on my belly. If Dad hadn't suggested the flip fuck, I would have been stroking my tool already. "Not to take away from the sex, sir... but the other stuff is the best part."

That got a big smile from him. He thrust in, completely, all the way. "That it is, buddy." Then another thrust. The emotional talk had keyed me up to take this, to want this.

"Fuck me, sir. Fuck your boy."

Dad's nostrils flared as he threw more strength into his fuck, still slow but very firm. "Oh kiddo..."

The only thing that spoiled an otherwise perfect moment was the nagging realization I'd be moving within two months. Out of my childhood home, away from Mom and my little brothers. Away from Dad. "You get so worked up after a long night," I observed, now running my hands along his furry chest. It was true, but my words were meant to egg him on, too.

"Cause I think about you all fucking shift, Nolan... you and your hot fucking ass."

His hips were faster now, his whole body moving in a steady athletic pump. It was exquisite. I didn't even mind having my legs pushed back as he leaned in some. "You and your amazing baseball jock body," he added.

"I'm gonna get bigger," I hissed.

Dad's body jerked to a stop, and I thought for a second he was cumming. But he bit lip and slowly slid out of me, pulling my ankles off his meaty delts and letting my legs down. His prick was super slick, from his frothy precum as much as from the lube, and I watched how it was immobile like a tire iron as he scooted up and straddled my waist.

Already he was half twisting, half leaning back to grip my slick cock and guide it into place.

"There," he hissed as he made contact. A second later he was already sitting down on me.

"Oh fuck, Dad," I grunted. "You feel so incredible."

Dad had a determined look as he made himself relax so he could work more of my dick into him. After about thirty seconds, though he'd worked his way down most of me. He paused, then started riding his hips up and down. "Your daddy's so horny, Nolan," he grunted. The bed was squeaking and our voices were louder. There's no way somebody wasn't hearing us fuck.

"Me too, sir," I growled, my hands gripping his hard, hairy thighs. Imagining fucking him in his uniform one shift. We'd done that once, and the memory still got me going.

"You're always horny, stud. Daddy's sex-addict boy."

"You know it," I said, now thrusting up into him as much as he was riding me. It all felt too good. "I don't know if I can last long... if you wanna flip some more."

"Let it go, son. Let that cum go right up my fucking ass."

It did. The orgasm was pretty intense so I had a good feeling Dad's guts were getting pretty sauced.

"Hell yeah," he hissed, riding me and milking me with his state trooper ass. He wasn't making a move to jerk off but instead leaned all the way back onto my crotch to ensure my dick and my load were buried as deep as possible inside him. He held there just a second then slowly rose off.

He leaned in to kiss me hungrily, then just as impetuously pulled back, nudging my legs up. "Pretty please, Nolan," he asked.

I wanted to give him this. The release, and the pleasure to match what he'd just given me. He knew it was going to be intense for me, so he didn't hold back. Sliding back inside my ass, he pumped me gently a couple of times, then just started moving faster to get off. I had a pretty good idea of the button to push.

"This is incest, Dad," I hissed. I didn't drop the word much, in part because it was so powerful.

"Shit," Dad hissed with an urgency that let me know it was working. He was almost cumming.

"Real incest," I repeated. "Deep incest."

Dad was whimpering now, in full orgasm, his face scrunching up and his body jerking as he pumped a bunch of his fatherly sperm into me.

He was a little sweaty and a lot tired when he dismounted. "That was incredible, Nolan," he said, reaching down to ruffle my hair and give me a more relaxed kiss. "Thanks."

I grinned. "Keeps getting better, huh?"

Dad looked back at me with a dreamy expression, his body now lying beside mine, his hands on my waist. "Somehow... yeah, it does."

I felt him up too. "I should probably get ready for school," I said, regret in my voice.

"Definitely," Dad said. "Another kiss."

We didn't rush this one, but I finally got the will power to pull back. "All right," I said.

"I'll text you later," he said. His voice definitely sleepy now. I watched him pull the covers up over his burly, hairy body and turn away from the light of the bedroom window.

I slid out of bed and reached over to pull the blinds down. I slid on some sweats and padded out of the room, shutting the door softly behind me.

#drakestories

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artandshid · 2 years

Text

Family Matters Part 2

Summary: Eddie realizes his mistake, but he doesn’t know how to fix it. Will a little bit of tough love from Uncle Wayne give him the right push?

Wayne Munson browsed through the grocery store for the first time in what seems forever. Now that his boy is back, he figured he’d keep some food in the house in case Eddie ever wanted to stop over.

For the past year, Wayne has been living off of fast food and whatever snacks he picked up at the convenience store when he went to get his lotteries.

Now, he’s strolling up and down the aisles of Hawkin’s favorite grocery store looking for anything and everything that catches his eye.

However, the thing that caught his eye today wasn’t any food. No, it was the girl he considered to be a daughter to him. The girl that he hasn’t seen since Eddie took off with Corroded Coffin. The girl that made his nephew the happiest Wayne has ever seen him. Y/n Y/l/n.

Wayne approaches you while you were deciding which spaghetti sauce you should buy tonight for dinner.

“My personal favorite is the thick and hearty.” You hear a gruff voice say over your shoulder. You turn around ready to snap at whatever old creep decided to come up to you today. However, when you turned around, you realized it wasn’t an old creep at all, in fact it was one of the best men you have ever known. Uncle Wayne.

You pull him into a hug, “Uncle Wayne, how have you been.”

He hugs back and squeezes you tightly, “I’ve been great kiddo, I’ve been great.” He says and holds the hug a little bit longer.

Maggie coos from the cart and both of your attentions turn toward your daughter.

“And who is this?” Wayne says while looking at Maggie.

“This is my daughter, Maggie.” You say a little bit quietly but still with a smile.

You never told Uncle Wayne about Maggie, but you also haven’t seen him in almost 2 years. You assumed Eddie didn’t say anything to him, he truly left you in his past.

You can tell Wayne was looking at her and noticing all of Eddie’s features in her. She has a lot of them, His big brown eyes, his smile, and she even has his curly brown hair, although that just started growing. You know Wayne noticed all of these things. You can tell he was looking for a way to start this conversation.

“She has your nose.” He says with a knowing smile and bops Maggie’s nose, which she giggles at, taking a liking to him already.

You chuckle, “Yes, yes she does.” You say and smile down at your feet.

“Why didn’t I know about her until today kid?” Wayne asks you.

You stutter, “Well-well, I don’t know Uncle Wayne, I-I haven’t seen you in forever. At least not since I knew about her.”

He chuckles unhumoressly, “No, that’s not what I mean, I mean why didn’t my boy ever tell me about this angel.”

“I don’t know, your boy doesn’t even know this angel is a girl.” You feel bad for Uncle Wayne having to find out about this in this way, and you feel bad that he will most surely hand Eddie his ass over this. But you weren’t good at thinking on your toes so you just told the truth. And you shouldn’t feel bad for it, but you do.

“Eddie is a Goddamned idiot.” When Uncle Wayne gets mad, he doesn’t yell. But you still know when he’s getting mad. His eyes get dark. He talks through his teeth. The tips of his ears get red. And right now Uncle Wayne is mad. He is furious.

And before the storm can hit you say, “Uncle Wayne, I really have to go, but I miss you. You should come over for dinner once in a while, have a home cooked meal.” You lean in and give him another hug.

He hugs you back and tell you he loves you and then bops Maggie’s nose again.

He watches you continue your grocery shopping, and he leaves his full cart there and storms off to find his boy.

——————————————————————————————-

Pounding. That’s what Eddie woke up to. Pounding on his door. He checks the clock, 7PM. He didn’t realize his nap lasted so long.

Pounding.

“One second Jesus Christ.” He says while pulling a shirt over his head.

He opens the door to find Uncle Wayne standing there. Being so excited to see him, he doesn’t even realize how pissed his uncle is.

“Uncle Wayne I missed you so much old man.” He pulls him into a hug and pulls him inside his apartment.

“Don’t give me that shit boy.” Wayne says and Eddie takes a defensive step back.

“Man what’s wrong, I’ve been gone for two years now I’m finally back and you’re already yelling at me.” he says starting to raise his voice.

“Two years too long. Two years too long when you have a Goddamn good girl here and a child. Two years too long. You gotta be stupid boy. That girl was the best thing to ever happen to you, and you had a shot at a family with her. You’re stupid. And I never even got to know.” Wayne started in on him and made Eddie feel even guiltier for his mistakes.

“Uncle Wayne I know, I’ve been stupid, I don’t know how to make it up to her.” Eddie says with tears in his eyes.

“You’ll be lucky if you ever get to. If I were her I’d spit in your face and tell you to go to hell. Who raised you this way? Because it sure as hell wasn’t me. This is your fathers activities. You never wanted to end up like him. But you did, you are. You don’t know how to make it up to her? Did you even fucking try boy?” Wayne says plopping down on the couch. Eddie sits next to him and sobs.

“I’m just like him. I’m a piece of shit.” Wayne softens up a little at this. Crying his own tears. He’s never seen Eddie cry like this before. Not since he was a kid.

“You’re not a piece of shit. But you did a piece of shit thing. You’re not just like your father. Your father wouldn’t sit here and cry over his mistake. He wouldn’t even consider it a mistake. But you’re better than he is. Now you gotta prove it to yourself and to Y/n and to Maggie that you’re better than he is.” Wayne said rubbing Eddie’s back.

“Her names Maggie? You got to meet her?” He looks up at Wayne with his big brown eyes. They were filled with hope and admiration.

“Her name is Maggie. She’s a beautiful little girl. She looks a lot like her father.” Eddie once again sobbed. He wants to meet her so bad. He wants to see you so bad. But how does he approach you after all this time?

“You need to talk to Y/N kid, if you want to be in your daughters life in any way, you need to talk to her.” Eddie nods his head.

“I know I do, I need to find the balls to do it. When did I become such a coward? When did I become okay with hurting so many people? Fuck I hurt you, I took away an opportunity for you to be a grandfather, you would be so good at it, I know you would. I hurt Y/n, how could I hurt her? She was everything to me, she still is, when did I become so stupid? When did I become so blind and naive to not see that she was everything I needed?” Eddie said now pacing around the room. Trying to understand his own actions.

“Ed, you were stupid. I’m gonna be blunt with you. You fucked up royally, and now you’re going to have to work your ass off to make it right. But you’re a good guy, and I know you don’t want to be a dead beat father, so make it fucking right kid.” Wayne says to him seriously and Eddie nods his head so hard his hair bounces.

“Yeah I’m a good guy. And it’s going to be fucking hard but Y/n is worth it. Maggie is worth it.”

It’s short, but I knew I wanted Wayne to find out about Maggie and to give Eddie a piece of his mind. I know we don’t like Eddie right now and Y/n may seem like a pushover, but she’s not. She’s forgiving, but that doesn’t mean she’ll forget.

#eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #eddie x reader #stranger things #stranger things fanfiction #eddie munson smut #best friend! eddie munson

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withered--s0uls · 1 month

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OKAY, I think I'm done for now.

@electrozeistyking and I a little while ago talked about how GD!N would react to DAS!Cyn. They went on about in a reblog but basically he would be extremely happy bc DAS!Cyn is a separate entity to the Absolute Solver, therefore meaning she's not the one behind everything.

So at first they probably both would be extremely happy. DAS!Cyn in her own AU upon meeting N first is absolutely terrified that he might hate her after everything the AS made her do. So the fact GD!N would react very positively to her presence would be a huge a relief to her.

Now, the issue is that the "Dormant" in "Dormant" Absolute Solver is in quotations for a reason. It simply lost interest in her as a main host / had no need for her anymore. It still has admin rights over DAS!Cyn and she still has a Solver Form. Though she doesn't use it by choice bc of PTSD triggers (until possibly a specific point in Ep7 but I'm waiting for ep8 to decide).

So yeah I think that would make both GD!N and DAS!Cyn kinda anxious to put it lightly.

(More Art and stuff under cut because this crossover has been living RENT FREE IN MY HEAD)

Also fun fact

@electrozeistyking has mentioned and shown Beanie finding comfort in the sound of her fathers core.

Well funny story.

DAS!Cyn always was comforted by her brothers core back at the manor, when they first reuite at the start of Ep6 and she sees DAS!Uzi summon her Solver wings and tail, her instinct is pressing closer to DAS!Ns chest for comfort. Her memories of the Solver features are very very blurry, but she is triggered by seeing them regardless.

I thought It was cute the girls have that in common, so I decided to draw them and GD!N sleeping with the girls having their heads close to his core :3

OKAY FINALLY WE GET TO THE DOODLE PAGE

I didn't feel like fully making these so they're sketchy doodles :"

The first two are based on Zeisty saying GD!N would probably pick DAS!Cyn up and spin her around. Also you probably noticed between this doodle, the first drawing & the Tiny!N & DAS crossover post, but DAS!Cyn displays flowers on her visor to emote happiness!

The 3rd and 4th are just random interactions between the kiddos lol. I feel like Beanie probably would be happy to have another Auntie, not to mention one closer to her age so they can do silly kid stuff together. DAS!Cyn... oh boy

She would feel a whole range of emotions; grief about missing so much of her brothers life (like he has a kid ffs), guilt and self blame after finding out what happened to Uzi (she blames herself for everything the AS caused, even tho she never agreed to it) which might end up in a "slight" breakdown, anger at the AS for causing GD!N that kind of pain and eventually once she processed all those emotions she probably would be excited to get to know Beanie. Like!! Imagine finding out you have a little Niece!!

She probably would struggle to easily keep up with Beanie bc she still has motor issues like in canonverse so she's a little slower, so it'd be mostly her trying not to fall over her own feet whilst being dragged around by an excited toddler who probably even with child lock is stronger than her lmao.

Also I drew DAS!Cyn in an alternate outfit bc I wanted to actually kinda show the oil reserve canister,,,

Ok wanting to respond to the hashtags specifically bc :)) yay

Also ig this is some DAS lore fact drops lol

Yeah, DAS!Cyn kinda didn't take it well either when she first realized the AS technically can still take over if it really wanted to after she transferred bodies in an attempt to escape. Imagine getting your core nearly crushed in an attempt to flee from robo satan just to find out entity STILL can use you for their bidding. Like!!! Damn that's not fair the kid nearly fucking died trying to break free!!!

DAS!Cyn definitely would want to spare Beanie the horrors too. DAS!Cyn herself is mentally like 7-10/11 at best 6-9 at worst -- despite kids usually just saying whatever comes to mind, she repressed most AS related stuff for a reason, she definitely wouldn't share what she knows with her newfound niece

I feel things would be either super great and happy or super traumatizing depending on when in the timeline we throw DAS!Cyn at them. If she's there during ep 6-7? Oh boy. Oh no. DAS!Cyn & DAS!N have an exchange during Ep7 that would not go over so well if it was GD!N in DAS!Ns place, because it would be awfully similar to GD!Uzis death -- she doesn't die, because DAS!N can't get himself to shoot with her being so close to the AS, despite her literally shouting at him to do it and that she won't be angry, that'll be fine. -- yeah I don't think GD!N would handle that well 😭 Zeisty feel free to get the angst train rolling if you wanna add your two cents on how that'd go over -- any point before that? Probably fine. Post S1? I'd imagine also fine depending on what Ep8 throws at us (except like... look at ideas list for more info*)

I'll assume that'd be Beanie reacting to seeing DAS!Cyn having the Solver tail and possibly the glitching Solver symbol in her visor. Yeah she definitely would try to play it off and go try and hide somewhere until she can get it under control again. High stress or negative emotions causes her Solver to act up (unrelated to the AS, just her own Solver form without the entity controlling anything!!) So what I said above to her reaction to the news of GD!Uzi being dead? And possibly finding out the reason why? Yeah that might trigger her tail and wings to pop out and her to basically be reduced to a hyperventilating ball on the floor because of proceeding to blame herself for all of GD!Ns suffering due to thinking the AS actions & it being a danger are her fault

Other things I kinda wanted to doodle but didn't for now, might do at a later point;

Cyn still has a Solver Core, which is the same as a DD core (except smaller lol). So I was playing with the idea of Beanie noticing that her core sounds different from GD!Ns due to hers being severely damaged and actively leaking after the AS attempted to crush it during the body transfer. DAS!Cyn then trying to play it off

Some kind of acknowledgement of the Oil reserve canister on DAS!Cyns back, it was made by Tessa before the AS did the medurder and stuff. It's supposed to help keep the Solver in check by preventing overheating, hence why its directly connected to her chest where her core is

There was something else but it slipped my mind

Smth I'm not gonna say publicly for now until Zeisty posts something about it and/or eventually posts the chapters bc I don't want to spoil esp not bc it isn't my place to :" (if you're curious, Zeisty, lmk I can tell you in VC or DMs lol) but it partly would possibly be related to the 1st idea listed

* I have an idea for what happens to Cyns original body (the one the AS uses & that wears Tessa) post Ep8 IF Ep8 let's me do it that is. I think it could be fun to crossover that idea bc of GD!Ns ghost sight.... tho it definitely also would be fucking stressful and trauma inducing bc Solver stuff sooo yeah rip (again, if you want I could elaborate in vc or DMs on this bc I want to first wait and see what the season finale brings before I do anything "official" with this)

GD!N reacting to the information that DAS!Cyn canonly shot "Tessas" gun at the AS (well technically at its tentacles. Point being that kid fired a gun/knows how to use one) -- which again could be very interesting if we were to toss them into the same Ep7 bc that's when she does it

Possibly GD!N finding out ab the scars/cracks surrounding DAS!Cyns core bc,,, yeah

Anyways uuuhh heightbsheet bc I'm 99% sure I drew stuff inaccurate

These were actually so fun to draw and think & talk about. I'll post the GD x IC crossover once I'm done with that (yes, yes there is more than what you already saw Zeisty. Not much more but more nonetheless)

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gentlebeardsbarngrill · 4 months

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01/22/2024 Daily Recap

Hey all! It's been a long day huh? I wanna apologize ahead of time, whatever sickness my kiddo had last week finally got me so I'm not feeling terribly well. I'm gonna do my best to articulate todays events for ya!

===Renew As A Crew====

So the very first thing I want to touch on today is updates from @renewasacrew. As you may have heard, they were going to be changing leadership as the shift in priorities changed from renewing to saving OFMD. That being said, the leadership change happened over this weekend with some hiccups (I don't know what the hiccups were entirely and I'm not going to speculate, if you wanna delve down that twitter hole you can, but having been in it for today I'd recommend against it for your mental health, and we don't want to be drawing a bunch of media attention to it) there's a lot of confusing information, and as we know things can get conflated fast if we don't have all the pieces to the puzzle-- let's not speculate and wait for the to come out with more info.

So what I'm focusing on today is @renewasacrew's message to please give them some time and practice some patience while they get back up and running. This also includes anyone you happen to know on twitter working with them, for example: @TheCozyPirate. Let's give them some grace, they've been steering us well so far.

The good news is, several folks, on tumblr: @iamadequate1, @quirkysubject, @asgardian--angels, On twitter: @havethisonelife @yougotoofast @Lcmwriter100, we have all we need to keep going for a few days while things get ironed out. (If I forgot someone please let me know, sorry I am half awake tonight)-- see the HOW CAN YOU HELP section below.

One thing I will mention-- we are moving so very fast right now. It's only been 13 days since the announcement that OFMD wasn't renewed, and we've accomplished SO MUCH. So when there's a lull, it's going to feel like things are standing still and maybe something is going wrong. Don't fall into despair, that's just how things go with negotiations. Take a break, take a breath, and just keep on Polite Menacing until we hear more from the leadership team.

===How can you help?===

**Go to visit the DAILY RENEWAL TASK LIST there's lots of ideas and ways you can help! Have more? Shoot me a dm! I'm happy to add stuff!**

*Note: To our international fans, I promise I'm working on a write up for you as well I've just been sick today and have been able to finish!*

Something new today-- a lot of you have expressed your desire to help in the @renewasacrew efforts. Well if you did-- and still want to, now you can volunteer! Many thanks to @redshiftsinger for getting this up so quick!

Please visit their survey: Volunteer Intake form and fill out how you may be able to help!

=== Cast and Crew Sightings ===

As if on cue, Chaos dad reached out to everyone on twitter today to express some encouragement!

He also saw we were at 77K and posted his astonishment!

Some folks have been a bit weary about his vagueness today, but as we know, Daddy Jenkins is the king of vague-- and he has to be! If there are contracts in the works, he can't be hinting at things. Don't lose hope!

===Samson Kayo ===

Our beloved Oluwande updated his IG with some pictures and a message. If you have IG I'm sure he'd appreciate some love!

Next up was our favorite Captain, Rhys Darby, promoting a fellow comic @jamesroguecomedy over on IG!

And our pirate queen Ruibo Qian was making posts about saving ofmd and fanart about Zheng! Featuring folks you probably know around tumblr: @mistysblueboxstuff and @tsutsu_ya over on twitter

=REMINDER: Cross Fandom Watch Party! on 01/23/2024 1 PM PT, 4PM ET=

Looks like there's gonna be some cross fandom watch parties on twitter you're welcome to tune in for Jan 23-26 on twitter. They'll be watching good omens in an effort to try and get engagement up with PrimeVideo. It sounds like it'll be similar to the LubeAsACrew but with Good Omens fans! Thank you to @Dandeebakes on Twitter for getting these organised!

Hashtags to use: #PirateOmens #AdoptOurCrew #SaveOFMD, and helps to @PrimeVideo

===Articles===

New article, but take it with a grain of salt, see @TheCozyPirate's message:

Our Flag Means Death's marketing was concerned about the shock of violence in the show

===============================================

Alright lovelies. Here we are again, I told you it'd be quick. Today was very very very busy. Take a break and get some sleep ya? Lean on your crew, we are here to support each other. I'll end with a quote from Tolkien (it being all of us in your crew):

"May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out."

Tonight picture features Taika and his "I love you eyes" at Rhys. Thats me, I'm Taika, I love you all.

PS: Idk why this isnt showing up in my recaps repository but ill figure it out in the morning.

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 1 month

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Language Barriers

same anon as like 5 minutes ago, I remembered the fluffy prompt! Could you write a Sanders Sides DLAMPR fic (before they get together) where all of the Sides have different love languages? And they’re all trying to flirt in their own way, but the others keep misinterpreting it? A lot of TSS fic features the Sides having different love languages (and I’d like to think they do, in canon), but I’ve yet to see a fic that specifically focuses on that fact and describes the differences between love languages. Feel free to ignore, and remember to take care of yourself! – anon

hey I love love love love LOVE your writing! If you’re open to prompts rn, I’ve just reread your story "Idiots, Idiots, Everywhere" and it’s awesome, thanks very much, BUT. Are you willing to write a Sanders Sides fic where it focuses more specifically on all the Sides having different love languages? Bonus points if it’s DLAMPR (but platonic PR, this is an incest-free household) and all the Sides are like “…but he’s like this with everyone”. No pressure at ALL, but it’d be cool to see how you approach that. – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: dlampr

Word Count: 3431

Or, five times the Sides misunderstood each other's love languages, and one time Thomas got fed up with it and decided to just...explain it to them with the efficiency they have when they're trying to explain something to him. Which is to say: it takes them a second to get it. The Imagination helps.

Physical Touch

If you were to ask anyone, they would tell you that Patton loves giving people hugs.

It’s the bane of some of their existences, they’d try to claim, and the others might just shrug and say that’s Patton for you. He knows his kiddos love it, at least a little bit. But he won’t lie, he does love a good hug. There’s just something so magical about how, out of all the shapes humans could have possibly been, they’re just perfectly designed to hold one another. Isn’t that just perfect?

Logan would probably say something about evolution and adaptation to the needs of their environment, or something, but he’s not gonna rain on Patton’s parade. Humans are hug-shaped, so they’re gonna hug. Besides, he’s not complaining when he’s working downstairs in the winter and he’s gotten too absorbed in his work and then a Patton-shaped heating pad just comes along and hugs him.

Patton loves hugging all of the Sides. Logan because he’s always so surprised by it, in a good way! He gets this soft little look that is almost on the edge of a smile, like he wasn’t expecting it but it’s the best possible outcome he never could have predicted. Or when he’s trying to comfort Patton and he hugs with undeniable certainty.

Virgil is also fun to hug, because he’s such a pouty-face about it. He snuggles up as much as any of them but he has to put on his mopey show first, just in case anyone’s watching. Virgil also gives the mopey hugs too, but then he makes himself just a bit bigger so he can wrap all the way around Patton. Which is the best.

Speaking of wrapping all the way around, Janus has six arms and he uses every single one of them. They get into competitions sometimes—not serious! It’s all for fun!—about who can surprise-hug each other the worst. Or best. Janus is currently winning from the time he managed to make himself look like the chair in the living room with a blanket over it; Patton sat down and boo!

Remus isn’t allowed to do surprise hugs, not after he accidentally tackled Patton into his Kraken’s pond and they had to spend the rest of the afternoon trying to get out of the pond. But Remus’s hugs are the kind that squish his soul right back into his body and ugh, there’s nothing better than that after a long day. Besides, it’s not like expecting Remus’s hugs takes anything away, he’s still going to squeeze him so hard he might not be able to breathe for a few seconds, but that’s Remus!

And then with Roman—Roman hugs the way every single knight from a fairytale should hug. He just makes you feel safe and precious and like nothing in the world could hurt you. It’s why Patton always sits next to Roman during scary movie nights, after all, even if he gets teased about it a little. Roman doesn’t mind.

So yes, Patton does love hugging all of them. But it doesn’t have to be hugging! It can be holding hands, or just leaning against each other, just as long as he can feel them and tell himself yes, they’re okay, they’re right here, I love them.

Because he does. He loves them terribly. Even if they think he’s just a big fan of hugs.

***

2. Quality Time

Virgil has the reputation of being the cat of the Mindscape for good reason. Not because he hisses at things that don’t cooperate—the other Sides are not excluded from this—and not because he spits up hairballs—it was one time, Remus, and it was entirely your fault—but because he has a habit of just appearing in the same room and hanging out for a while.

…alright, it’s not a habit, he does it on purpose.

Companionable silence really is the best way to go about things. You’re both close enough to talk if you want to, but each of them is allowed to do their own thing and hey, there’s another person doing their own thing too. Which is why it’s his favorite way of hanging out with Logan, especially when he needs to make sure that something gets done. He’s always down to affectionately bully Logan into whatever he asks him to make sure he does.

He does that with Remus too, but it’s not exactly the same: Remus needs someone to make sure he doesn’t actually destroy anything, and he’s more than happy to oblige. Especially since he likes to get a bit of a heads-up before a rampaging beast goes barreling through the kitchen at some ungodly hour of the morning.

If he’s never beating the cat allegations, Janus sure as hell isn’t helping. There’s a big window in the Dark Sides’ half of the Mindscape that is perfect for lying in for, oh, a few hours on end. Remus has many—too many, if you ask Virgil—pictures of the two of them just basking in the sun, dozing like they haven’t got a care in the world.

Virgil’s actual favorite place to sleep is with his head in Patton’s lap. Especially after he’s just finished baking, when he’s all warm from the oven and he smells like sugar and spice…Virgil will sit on the counter or the floor and listen to Patton talk about whatever he wants and then while the oven bakes, he’ll fall asleep right in Patton’s lap. He even gets first dibs on whatever just got made.

Roman makes a game of it. He’s the Prince, every good Prince needs a rogue to work with. They trek all over the Imagination, having adventures, defeating monsters, it’s the perfect mix of Roman’s quests and Virgil’s need to be a creepy little shit in every dark corner he can find. Being with Roman even makes boring council meetings fun, because he gets to terrify the idiots that they’re just gonna fight later anyway and he gets to spend time with Roman.

He doesn’t care what he’s doing, not really, just as long as he can spend time with them. He just…wishes they would understand that sometimes.

***

3. Words of Affirmation

Logan is no stranger to impostor syndrome, but that doesn’t mean he has to allow it to plague those he cares for. Understanding something to be true on an intellectual level and feeling the validation that comes from hearing someone else voice it are two very different things. The other Sides are each remarkable in their own right. They deserve to hear it.

Patton is kind. He does not say that lightly: kind people who choose to be kind because they know how difficult it is are not individuals to be trifled with. Patton makes the conscious choice to try and be better every single day. He is earnest and sincere, sometimes painfully so, but he does not allow himself to be dissuaded by obstacles. How could Logan not want to express his admiration?

And Roman…oh, Roman is a wonder. There is so much that goes into his work that often goes unnoticed, or underappreciated, and it is a crime that Logan too often finds himself on the wrong side of that line. Roman is clever and funny and has a work ethic that, truly, rivals Logan’s own. For every slight he makes, however unintentional, he tries his best to make up for it by telling Roman in no uncertain terms how honored Logan is to be part of his creative process.

Remus is an entirely different story, no pun intended. Remus is unabashedly and unapologetically himself, and as such is a marvel to behold. He cares not for the sanitization or reduction of anything in his work, and so Logan does his best to follow suit. Remus is who he is, and it is beautiful.

He tells Janus he’s beautiful too. And not once is he lying. The first time he did it, Janus laughed in his face, at least until he realized Logan was telling the truth. He then didn’t see Janus for an entire week. It ended when a little snake plushie appeared outside of his door in the middle of the night with a tiny note that just said thank you. He tells Janus he’s beautiful every chance he gets now.

Virgil is his little alley cat. Perfectly fine to approach on his terms, but will let him know with no uncertainties when he’s getting a little too close. It doesn’t help that Virgil is quite fun to tease, even if all he’s doing is giving him compliments—true compliments, mind you—and watching in amusement as Virgil curls up into a ball with his hood pulled down over his ears as if that could hide how red they are. He’s not cruel about it, of course; he stops the moment Virgil appears genuinely uncomfortable and there are certain topics he doesn’t go near. But Virgil can’t always hide his little grin and so on it goes.

He’s quite happy to shower them with his words, he just…doesn’t know if they’d believe him if he said I love you.

***

4. Acts of Service

Words are difficult. There is so much ambiguity to be found in even the most basic of sentences, and when it comes to matters like this, Janus prefers to take as few chances as possible. Whoever coined the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words,’ Janus definitely owes a drink for how spot-on it is.

Whenever Patton needs a hand in the kitchen, he’s always the first to volunteer. He can do up to three things in the time it would take another Side to do just one, after all, and he’s had enough experience cooking for the troublemakers (Virgil and Remus) to know how to get around most of their pranks. And how to get them back.

Logan, bless him, has a tendency to overwork himself at the best of times. And in doing so, he gets these terrible knots and cramps in his neck and shoulders from hunching over his desk for hours on end. It might not be the most polite of things to practically blackmail his way into giving Logan a massage, but the poor dear always falls right to sleep so he mustn’t mind too much.

Remus and his delightful menagerie of creatures often need more than their fair share of attention. He had to pester Remus into getting him a raincoat and muck boots that could withstand the acidic slime, but weekend mornings found them strolling cheerfully through pens and cages and paddocks, tending to the bizarre flock. Anything to make the chore more of a fun activity and less of, well, a chore, when Remus really doesn’t suit stressed-out frowns as well as manic grins.

Virgil has a terrible habit of not asking for reassurance when he needs it. Janus regrets the part he played in making it that way. So, no matter how small and stupid Virgil may think it is, whenever he asks for help, Janus gives it. A tug on his cloak or a soft please will have him do anything from turn the light in the hallway on to checking the poor thing over for wounds after a brutal nightmare. It took long enough for Janus to re-earn that trust, he’s not going to lose it if he can damn well help it.

Out of everyone in the Mindscape, only Roman truly appreciates his love of theater. Sure, the others are game to help out here and there, but when it comes to the art of make-believe, Roman is the proud owner of Janus’s ‘yes-and’ partnership. The two of them make all sorts of stories together, from villains and heroes to morally grey adventurers, to simple fairytales and old plays. Roman needs someone else to help him play the roles and Janus is more than happy to play with him.

Perhaps one day, he might be able to reveal that everything he does for them, he does because it’s them, but for now, he’ll happily play the role they expect of him.

***

5. Gifts

Roman and Remus do not, in fact, fight over who gets to give the most presents to the other Sides.

Instead, they fight over whose idea they work on first.

For Logan, Remus’s self-writing pen narrowly won out over Roman’s proposal for a never-ending notebook, if only because said pen squirted ink into Roman’s mouth before he could finish his argument. They ended up giving both to Logan at the same time, but the pen was decidedly on top and did its own little celebratory wriggle when Logan used it for the first time.

Remus nearly challenged Roman to a formal duel when it came to designing a heat lamp for Janus that wouldn’t run the same risk of burning out the electricity in their section of the Mindscape. They managed to agree on everything up to the design on the lampshade. Roman said it should be a yellow snake, curled up and sleeping, and Remus wanted it to be a big leaf that Janus could lay under like he was actually outside. The compromise was eventually reached over many hours of almost bloodshed and now the sleeping snake under a leaf is a staple in the corner of Janus’s room.

Roman cleverly proposed Virgil’s weighted blanket while Remus was being crushed under said blanket, leaving not a lot of wiggle room until he had to agree. Of course, he promptly fell asleep and cuddled Roman into a pile of goo, so technically they made both the blanket and the plushie at around the same time. Virgil still brings the little skeleton to movie nights.

Patton gets their presents one after the other, because you need one to understand the other’s context. A rebreather designed to slip on over the person’s face just like any other face mask, to filter out particulates and allergens. Something that could be worn for up to two consecutive hours before it needed to be recharged.

The other present was a box full of kittens.

”Ro?”

“Yeah?”

Remus pushes his goggles to the top of his head and looks over the desk. “Do you think they’ll ever get it?”

Roman sighs, closing his notebook and leaning back to stretch. “I don’t know, Re. I love them, really, they just…”

”Don’t realize.”

“Yeah. It’s okay, though. We’ll get there eventually.”

“Of course we will. Hand me that wrench, would you?”

“The one that’s covered in guts, or the one that’s made out of foam?”

“The foam one. I need to whack this thing but I don’t wanna hit it too hard.”

“I’m not gonna ask any more questions.”

***

+1: I Love You

”Hey!” Patton rises up first, clapping his hands. “Oh. I’m the only one here.”

“Only by a moment,” Logan says as he joins him. “Is Thomas here?”

“No, I just got summoned by—well, I thought it was Thomas but he’s not here.”

“Whoa, hey!” Virgil appears on the staircase. “What’s going on? I was in the middle of watching someone.”

“Don’t you mean ‘something?’” Remus appears, covered in slime and cackling. “Ah. I see.”

“I’ve got it,” Roman says, rising up and spraying his brother with something that somehow manages to dissolve all the goo without staining or spraying anything else. “There. Now maybe you’ll think twice about surprising Uma when she’s feeding?”

“Oh, I’m gonna do this so many more times!”

”I felt the exasperation from my room,” Janus sighs, appearing, “what’s Remus done now?”

“Why did you assume it was Remus?” Janus just looks at Logan. “Fair enough.”

”Now that we’re all here, what is this about?” He looks around, frowning. “Where’s Thomas?”

“That’s weird, is he not the one who called for a meeting?”

“What’s that?” Virgil reaches out and picks up a piece of paper from the coffee table. “‘Each one of you needs a card, find the matches.’ What cards?”

“Here.” Logan picks up something that fell when Virgil picked up the paper. “There are only five of them, though, and six of us.”

“What do they say?”

“Let me see…one says ‘Physical Touch,’ one says ‘Acts of Service,’ one says…oh, I see.”

“I don’t,” Patton says, “can you share with the class?”

“Wait, wait, I think I know what this is, is one of them ‘Quality Company’ or something?”

“‘Quality Time,’ yes.”

Roman nods. “It’s the Five Love Languages.”

“Thomas doesn’t even speak Spanish!”

“No, no, Padre, not literal languages, it’s…it’s the ways you express your affection for someone. How you tell them you love them. There’s five: physical touch, acts of service, quality time…”

“‘Words of Affirmation,’” Logan continues, reading off the other cards, “and ‘Gifts.’”

Virgil hunches his shoulders. “So what, are we supposed to pick one?”

“I believe the intention of the exercise is to…select which one is our love language.”

Janus huffs. “Why? What does Thomas have to gain from doing something like this? And where is he?”

“Maybe he’s not the one who summoned us.”

“Well then who did?”

“Maybe if we do the thing we can find out.”

Janus sighs, peering over Logan’s shoulder and squinting. “I guess this one’s mine, then.”

“‘Acts of Service?’ Very well. I suppose I’ll take ‘Words of Affirmation.’”

“Can I have the touch one?”

“Certainly.”

“Twins get ‘Gifts,’ obviously,” Virgil mutters, “which means I get the…time one, or whatever.”

Logan hands out the last two cards and they stand there for a moment, waiting for something to happen.

Nothing does.

Patton looks back down at his card. “Wait, did you say these are how we tell people we love them?”

“That is a simple definition of this, why?”

“Because you guys do these with everyone!”

There’s a pause. Logan adjusts his glasses. “Well, I can’t speak for everyone, but…yes, I do indeed give you all words of affirmation, because, well…”

“Aww,” Virgil says, “do you love us, Logan?”

Logan coughs, blushes, and adjusts his tie. “I believe that is a logical conclusion, yes.”

“Aww!” Patton squeals. “I love you guys too!”

”So whoever set this up knew that we were all trying to tell each other that—“ Roman starts.

“—and needed to hammer it into our heads what was happening,” Remus finishes.

“Well,” Janus sniffs, even as a smile threatens the corners of his mouth, “how dramatic.”

Virgil tugs on the strings of his hoodie. “Yeah. How dramatic.”

There’s another pause.

Roman coughs. “Uh, this seems like a good a time as any, um…Remus and I put together a festival thing in the Imagination for everyone, if you want to…if you want to come and see it.”

“It has everyone’s favorite state fair stuff,” Remus sands, “and there’s supposed to be a northern-lights kind of thing after it gets dark.”

“Can we cuddle?”

“Of course.”

“Will there be food?”

“Your favorite, shadow-ling.”

“You two are so thoughtful,” Logan says softly, “I would love to come.”

“I can get the good blankets from the closet,” Janus offers, and everyone grins, “should we meet there in ten?”

“Oh, this is going to be so much fun!”

The Imagination is just happy they finally sorted it out. Now, to give the six of them a group date they’ll never forget…

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #logan sanders #patton sanders #deceit sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #virgil sanders

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danoberry · 1 year

Text

★ object of your affection (hank devereaux x reader) SMUT 18+

description: after many “private” sessions with your professor, you finally get what you’ve been wanting.

content: SMUT 18+!!!, age gap (reader is in her 20s), use of the word “kiddo” a lot, kinda cum play, teasing, more stuff but it’s unimportant and it’s 12:30am

pronouns: you/yours (female reader)

wc: 2.7k

afab genitalia

AN:

hi guys! i’m really back! new content, woo! when i fade out of my interests, there’s a gap of time where i really have no interests. after i stopped being OBSESSED with paul dano, i finished breaking bad and watched better call saul, which, of course, sparked a huge interest and an infatuation with bob odenkirk. with that being said, here is the new fic. i hope everyone, even my religiously devoted dano fans, enjoy!

The sound of your foot against the floor tip-tapped with the cadence of a song running through your mind. You stood at Professor Devereaux’s door, waiting for the one-on-one session that you had asked him for, for the fourth week in a row. After his outburst in class, you had noticed he had been more stressed than ever before. You wouldn’t have cared as much if you didn’t have such a good bond with him, but with your similar humor (and consistent effort) you both got along very well. It was never your intention to become so close to your much older professor, but lack of friends and need for validation led you to this friendship.

Professor Devereaux was an ethical man. So you thought, at least until the outburst. For what it was worth, you agreed with what he was preaching. The college he taught at, the one you went to, was mediocrity’s capital. There was nothing special about it. What he said was right. The idiotic kid who kept dragging on the situation knew nothing about the man you knew. Someone practical. Someone witty. Someone caring. So as you stood there tapping your feet, you thought about how off-topic this one-on-one session with your professor could get. Or on the contrary, how off-topic you could make it.

“Hey, Y/N,” you heard a voice say as you looked up from your feet.

“Hey, Professor,” you replied, getting out of the doorway and watching as Prof. Devereaux grabbed the keys from his pocket and unlocked the door.

“Listen, kid, I’m super sleep deprived. I’ll look at your paper to the best of my ability, but I can’t promise world class advice.”

“That’s okay. I kinda just wanted to eat somewhere besides the cafeteria.”

He replied sarcastically, “Go right ahead, I’ll sit and watch you.”

He sat in his chair across from you as you grabbed the salad from your bag. You pulled up your paper on your laptop, beginning to eat.

“Jeez, you're making me hungry now,” he said, laughing and looking at his computer.

“Yeah, well, I’d offer you some but I don’t want any cross-contamination going on.”

“I’ll live. I think I have a vanilla Coke in the fridge out there. Be right back,” he opened the door, “before I die of hunger!”

You ate your salad as you waited for him to get back, aimlessly scrolling on Pinterest. When he did come back, he carried two cans of Coke in his hands, one for him, and one for you.

“See, I’m not as selfish as everyone is saying,” he said.

“Definitely not. Thanks, Professor.”

He sat down and leaned against the desk. “You gonna show me your paper?”

“Oh yeah, here.” You flipped the screen and showed him what you were working on, and he invited you to sit on the other side of the desk with him, pointing out details that you didn’t need or needed to add. You took a sip of your Coke and grabbed a mint from across the desk after you were done with the salad. Slowly, you unconsciously started to scoot closer to him, closing the gap between your bodies substantially. You looked up at his gaze upon your screen, studying his facial features. You studied his hair and his beard and its color. You watched his eyes flick from each side of the screen as he read. Right then and there, you reached a breaking point. God, you couldn’t bear looking at such a handsome face and not being able to mess with it. He was so successful and attractive and intelligent. You wanted him to ruin you.

You leaned closer to him, pretending to read your paper again. Slowly, you began to rub his shoulder as he read. He didn’t tense up or ask for you to stop, responses you could have received. Instead, he kept as he was.

“What’re you doing?” He asked absentmindedly.

“I don’t know. I’ll stop-“

“No, it’s fine. I was just wondering if you could get the other shoulder.”

You paused for a moment.

“Uh, yes sir.”

“Don’t feel obligated. You just do it very well.”

You blushed hard. “Thank you,” you nearly whispered.

“Thank you. Could you get the blinds too?”

You nodded your head while you got up, letting your hand linger on his shoulder until you couldn’t touch him anymore. As you shut the blinds, your professor looked over at you, tracking your body with his eyes. When you walked back over to him, you massaged his shoulders as he finished his reading and revising. You leaned closer to his head and watched your screen that he had control over.

“There you are,” he said, taking his hands off of your keyboard, lifting one to rub your fingers that were resting on his shoulder. “Sit down, let me talk to you for a moment.”

You let go of his shoulders and sat down next to him. “You’re one of my most promising students,” he started. “You’re not like these… ignoramuses I deal with every day…”

“Thank you, professor,” you said, nervous from the intimacy of the conversation. He leaned back and smiled.

“I think we can get rid of the formalities now, don’t you think…? You can call me Hank when we’re alone.”

You nodded your head, still blushing and timid from the conversation.

“You don’t have to act so shy,” he teased. “I know what you’re trying to do. To be frank, it’s working… if that gives you any validation. You want one-on-one ‘lessons’ with me after class almost every week, and all we do is sit and talk. I’ve caught on. Scooting close to me while I read your essays, which I know you write just so we can have these ‘lessons.’ I know you want to mess with me. You’ve got me right where you want me.”

You sat there in awe, the numbness in your thighs dialing down as you got more comfortable with the fact that he knew you were attracted to him. Hank leaned closer to you, and instead of letting him take initiative, you leaned into him and met his lips between his beard. He tasted the mint flavor on your tongue.

“What was that about ‘cross contamination?’ Wintergreen, huh? How’d you know that was my favorite?”

“Lucky guess.”

You kissed him again and felt the softness of his beard against your skin. It was a new feeling, something you had never experienced. You had only been with men your age. You melted in the thought; you were able to kiss such an experienced man, one who even knew how to speak to you so sweetly. You swooned over Hank’s quiet groans, ones he made when he was out of breath. Inching closer to the man, touring your hand up his knee and onto his thigh, he whispered to you, “Right here,” having you straddle his lap over the seat. He told you ‘atta girl’ when you adjusted your hips on top of him.

“Jesus Christ, kiddo. I don’t know how you expect me to last long if I’m getting this undone from just touching you.”

“Who knows, maybe I could teach an old dog new tricks today,” you laughed. Hank kissed your neck, tickling you and making you giggle even more.

“Who are you calling old?”

“More like… mature,” you said, still giggling from the ticklish neck kisses.

“Mature, huh? I guess you wanna know how someone so mature can make you feel then?”

“I think I’d like that very much.”

Hank took hold of your pants’ button and unclasped it, afterwards unzipping your zipper. You stood up quickly to kick them off, displaying a perfect pair of lace panties you had worn every single time you had a “session” with him. Hank unbuckled his belt, dropping it to the floor, and he undid his button and zipper.

“I bet you wore those underwear just for me, didn’t you? How dirty.”

“But you like them, right?” You asked jokingly, turning around squeezing your ass in your hands. You straddled Hank again and kissed him. “Talk about dirty, you’re about to have sex with one of your students in your office.”

“Trust me,” he said, “if I could take you home with me right now, I would.”

“And what would you do with me if you did?” You asked him, grinding a bit harder against his crotch than you were before.

“A lot more than what we can do right now.”

“Why don’t you give it your all, then?”

“Pshh, ‘give it my all.’ You’re really asking for it, huh?”

“Hank, I’m on my knees.”

You kissed him again and rubbed against his crotch, making sure he could feel the wetness seeping through your panties. Hank hummed when he felt you graze his cock. You stood up and watched as he pulled down his underwear and unbuttoned his shirt. Seeing his cock lay so perfectly against his stomach made your legs weak, and you swore you could feel yourself salivating. You bent down over his cock and watched as pre-cum leaked in little beads from his tip. You kissed the tip of his length, giving it kitten licks. You could see the twitch of his cock just from teasing him.

“God- ah- fuck, kid. Get on top of me.”

With zero hesitation, you climbed back onto his lap and moved your panties to the side, giving Hank kisses on his lips and grinding against his cock, waiting for a moment before taking him all. You stood up and positioned yourself over his cock, sitting back down with an exasperated shudder, moaning into his neck. Hank expelled a large breath against your skin, feeling your pussy wrap around him so perfectly.

“Ah- wow, you feel good.”

“Who, me?” You sarcastically remarked, panting.

Hank squeezed your ass and moved it up and down on his cock. “Don’t get all smart-elicy on me now. We both know where you get it from.”

He breathed between his teeth, almost audibly whining, when you deliberately clenched around his cock.

“If you mean myself, then you’d be correct.”

Hank pounded into you harder than before, shocking you from the abrupt change in pace. You worried to whine as quietly as you could into his shoulder. “Smart brats make good dumb bunnies, kiddo.”

“I- ah- oh, fuck!” You moaned as quietly as you could in his ear.

“Hmph, yeah, see what I mean?”

He groaned with hot breaths against your skin, making you clench harder around his cock again. You drooled against his shoulder and whined, nearly incomprehensible.

“Ah- hng- I- feels so- good!”

“You- fuck- like that?”

“Mhm..!”

Through his groans, Hank teased you again, “Hmm, I think you could have it a little more rough.”

You moaned into his neck, drooling as he pounded his cock into you, stretching your hole. Whatever response you could have given, you couldn’t. He stopped pounding into you for a moment and tucked your hair out of your pretty face to look at you, holding your hand and rubbing his calloused fingers over yours.

“You wanna bend over for me, kiddo?”

You mewled and kissed his lips, nodding, despite how tired and sore you were. You got off of his lap, feeling cold and empty from the lack of friction. Wetness seeped around your pussy and around your thighs as you spread your legs and bent down over his desk.

“I’m teasing you, but you really are doing so well for me,” he said, bending over and kissing your cheek. “Don’t lay your head like that. Here, sweetheart.” He put his hand on the left side of your cheek, creating a barrier between your head and the hard desk. Hank massaged your ass with his other hand, before shoving his wet cock back into you, making you moan at the feeling.

Hank tried keeping the noises at a minimum, yet still trying to pound into you and hit the spots that made you arch farther up his stomach. You could tell he was close to cumming, but God, you didn’t want it to end. With every thrust, you could feel him becoming more tense, groaning, letting out hot breaths. His thrusts were becoming sloppier and quicker.

“Where- oh fuck- where do you want- ah- it?”

“Cum in me, please! Please, please please!”

Hank grunted as quietly as he could, almost moaning, when you felt his cock twitch inside you. Cum spurted over your walls, making your pussy clench around him. You felt bad about not being able to cum as he pulled out of you, kissing your shoulder.

“Hank,” you said quietly as you turned around and played with your clit.

“What’s up, kiddo?” He replied in his chair, out of breath.

“I couldn’t cum,” you practically mumbled.

“Poor thing,” he said, sitting up and kissing your face. “I’ll fix it, don’t worry.”

You played with your clit softly when he sat back down in his chair, scooting towards your pussy and spreading your legs. You watched Hank as his head moved down to your crotch, and he collected the cum that was seeping out of your hole on his fingers and raised them to your mouth. You sucked them gently, before he brought his hand back down to your hole and began fucking you with his fingers and flicking his tongue over your clit. You whined out and tried squeezing your thighs, but to no avail, because he was already using his free hand to hold your legs down. You heard the wet noises that he made as he sucked on your puffy clit, making the knot in your stomach tighten.

“Ah- oh, fuck! Ah, hngg, Hank!” You moaned as you tried to bite your lip. You could feel his smile curl against your pussy, and you held your orgasm for as long as you could, trying to relax your muscles. Only a few seconds after, however, did you let go, pulsating and cumming all around his calloused fingers. Hank licked the mixture of his cum and yours from your hole, kissing you.

You, sweaty and nearly incoherent from being fucked dumb, mustered up a, “You’re kissing me with cum in your mouth, but I’m the dirty one.”

Hank laughed at your ability to joke, even though you were so tired and cum-drunk. “You got me there,” he said, kissing you again. You sat there, batting your eyes as you looked up and his foggy glasses.

“Thank you,” you said, quietly.

“Of course, kiddo. Thank you. You’re the best I’ve had in years.”

You smiled. “Really?”

“Well maybe not the best behaved, but…”

You laughed and rolled your eyes. Hank grabbed a few tissues from his closet, along with a blanket that he gave you once you hopped down from his desk. He wiped your legs off and around the base of his cock, getting himself ready for his class.

“Don’t come to class today. Take a nap, I know you need it,” he said, putting his chair back. He kissed you when you sat down, and put his pants on after buttoning his shirt.

“I gotta get to my lecture and get this mess off in the restroom. Lock the door behind me, I’ll tell you when I’m back.”

“Okay,” you said.

“You’re a good girl, you know that?”

“I guess I do now,” you said, with a smirk on your face. Hank shook his head with a smile and kissed you again, before straightening himself out and walking out the door, shutting it behind him. He opened it back up and peeked in for just a second.

“Same time next week?” He whispered.

“Sooner.”

“You got it.”

#lucky hank #bob odenkirk #bob odenkirk fic #lucky hank fic #better call saul #danoberry #better call saul fic #jimmy mcgill #jimmy mcgill fic #saul goodman #saul goodmanfic #saul goodman smut #jimmy mcgill smut #jimmy mcgill x reader #saul goodman x reader #hank devereaux smut #hank devereaux x reader #better call saul smut #bob odenkirk x reader

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sukunaspinkyfinger · 6 months

Text

omegle adventures! featuring gojo satoru & nanami kento (f!reader)

"one day out of boredom, you decide to convince your boyfriend to fuck around on omegle with you"

contains: crack, mentions of male reproductive body party (it's omegle, ifykyk)

GOJO

Satoru needs almost no convincing to begin his first-ever journey on Omegle with you, even if you warn him about the possible dangers beforehand. He plops down on the couch beside you and swings an arm around your shoulder as he yoinks your laptop in his lap and waits for the site to load, impatiently. You try to hide your laugh the moment your webcam turns on, debating if it was a good idea to introduce your unhinged boyfriend to this even more unhinged website.

For the first couple of minutes, everyone just straight up skips you and Satoru, or the person on the other side simply stares at their phone without saying a word.

"Booooring..." a defeated sigh escapes the tall man as he leans back on the couch, turned to you. It seems only you were aware of the new candidate that just loaded in.

"Yo."

The child sitting in his gaming chair seems rather disinterested as he takes a sip from his energy drink, his eyes drift between his monitor and Satoru, who turns to him with a cocky smile.

"Yo, kiddo. Whatcha' playing?" Satoru asks him with a lot of enthusiasm as he gestures over to the child's monitor that showed the loading screen of a familiar video game. The kid on the other side blinks at least five times as he takes a good look at your boyfriend before he answers with a very unimpressed tone.

"Your hair makes you look like my sisters rat that got electrocuted last week. It climbed behind the fridge and chewed the cable. My dad noticed it because it got stinky."

Satoru is in disbelief, not sure if because of the sudden insult or because of the gruesome story the kid described with a poker face. You hold your tummy as you begin to laugh uncontrollably, which earns you a rather unamused look from your scarred boyfriend.

"I'm playing Fortnite, by the way. I could easily 1v1 you."

That's it, you remembered the name of the familiar game which your boyfriend also plays very enthusiastically every Friday night accompanied by Yuji and Megumi. Which is why Satoru stiffens the moment the child on the other side of the screen states that he would, in fact beat your boyfriend in a 1v1, whatever that means. Their conversation suddenly forms into a heated debate about game's strategies, something about building and nineties, which you didn't really get, so you decided to get up from the couch to get some snacks.

The moment you stretch your legs and stand up, Satoru does so as well with such eagerness it almost knocks you over. He sprints into your living room from where you can hear the beep sound of his PS5 you gifted him for his birthday. For the rest of the evening, Satoru forces you to watch him compete with the kid for hours, whining and kicking as he loses for the 27th time.

NANAMI

It was a long and especially boring Sunday evening. The weather outside was horrendous, so you decided to stay inside and relax but somehow nothing seemed interesting enough. You tried reading a book, watch a show, even did the dishes while waiting for your long-term boyfriend, Nanami to finally arrive home to no avail as nothing could keep you entertained.

Hours later, he finally steps through the front door and greets you with a loving kiss as he takes off his long, thick coat. "How was your day, sweetheart?"

You explain your unusual boredom to your boyfriend as you lead him to sit on the couch with you and as you serve him some dinner, a genius idea pops into your head. You briefly remember the website you and your best friend used to mess around on when you were kids and thought it would be fun to do the same with Nanami. To your surprise, the exhausted man obliged as he helped you set up the laptop as comfortably as possible while you two cuddled on the couch as none of you intended to change positions.

"Care to elaborate about this...Omegle?" he asks, seemingly curious as he types in the link in the search bar.

"You basically get to talk to random people online, it's fun, kind of." you pause as you remember some of the vile stuff you used to laugh at with your bestie as a teen. "There are a lot of weirdos, though, so beware."

Nanami was about to protest upon hearing your words but it was too late as your webcam loaded in and the first person appeared on the other side. At first, you two could only hear rustling and deep breaths coming from a man, which earned a confused expression from the both of you. As your boyfriend realized what was going on, he angrily skipped the shameful person on the other side, though no avail; for some reason, every creep decided that today was going to be the day, the perfect day for them to stroke their soggy dicks on Omegle. Of course, most of them landed in your chatroom, how convenient.

However, your boyfriend - despite the uncomfortable looks and disgusted sighs - still decided not to throw away the laptop and sanitize his eyeballs with bleach. That, until one particular face appeared on the screen, grinning at Nanami like some kind of maniac. Your boyfriend's eyes widen in shock and despair as soon as he realizes the identity of the white-haired man staring back him like a demon from hell.

"Nanami?? Y/N? No way, who would've thought I'd run into my good frien-"

Nanami quickly shuts the screen of the laptop, almost breaking it the moment he hears Satoru's excruciatingly exciting shriek. He just can't escape him even in his own home, can he?

"Honey, are you okay?" You ask while trying not to burst from the laugh that slowly but steadily creeps up from the depths of your stomach as he looks at you with a defeated expression on his handsome face.

"Grab your coat." he states out of the blue as he stands up and grabs his car keys.

Despite the tragic events of the evening, at least the two of you got to enjoy a cute date in a nearby café and that is what you call a "win-win".

gojo's still trying to beat that kid in fortnite as we speak

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #nanami kento #nanami x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk crack

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aeoncss · 30 days

Note

Hiiii I love your Mike content 😭💗!!! I was wondering if you could write headcannons about Mike developing a crush on the older sister of one of Abby’s friends? Like they meet at a school event or something </3 I can’t stop imagining him arranging sleepovers and stuff to see her shsssddsfs

hopelessly devoted | mike schmidt x fem!reader

a/n: this is SOO cute, thank you so much for sending in the request anon! <3

cw: guardian anxiety? mike being anxious, as always. some cute sibling / friend interactions. pining towards the end! not proof read bc my eyes hurt lmao.

after the events at freddy’s, abby was slowly coming out of her shell and making new friends — which made mike so incredibly proud, considering it was radio silence from her for so long.

he loved seeing her immediately run off to her small group of friends and acquaintances whenever he dropped her off for the day at school, seeing how happy she became.

when he went to pick her up one evening, abby had asked if one of her friends could stay over later in the week— begging mike to let her have a sleepover.

he was hesitant at first, still not quite over what happened at the pizzeria which made his paranoia spike, so he only agreed if he could meet her friend’s parents or guardian first.

which, led mike to abby’s friend — angelica’s older sister.

to you.

it was at a small school event. abby’s grade was putting together a small fair for the upcoming fall holiday, so a little harvest was in place. there were scarecrows, face paintings, quick crafts for the kids to enjoy, and overall just enough activities to keep both the parents and children happy.

abby pleaded with mike to go, asking him over and over for a week straight until he gave in and took a day off of work.

although he was happy that abby was having the time of her life — a smile stretched around a beautifully drawn butterfly across her lips and nose, mike couldn’t help but feel like he didn’t belong there.

he was her older brother, not abby’s parent. guardian, yes, but this wasn’t meant for siblings. it was meant as a bonding pair between parents and their child, and as the night progressed, mike was slowly beginning to feel worse.

of course, he was happy for his little sister. happy that she was getting out of her shell and running around everywhere with a giggle, but here he was — following behind with glares directed towards him, most likely from the incident back at the mall.

he hated the lingering eyes. the hushed whispers. it only caused his skin to trickle with anxiety and his tongue to bloat. he wanted out.

“mike!” abby shouted with a giggle, skipping over towards her big brother with her hand clasped in another. angelica came in tow next to her, her face decked out in some batman face paint.

“what’s up, kiddo?” mike questioned — looking down at the pair with a quirked brow.

the two girls before him shared another laugh before abby had turned around, pointing towards another figure standing alone by a small field of fake corn and hay.

“that’s angelica’s sister! you said if you meet her then we can have a sleepover!” mike’s younger sister beamed.

mike’s brows furrowed the more he looked at the absent stranger, his eyes focusing on the way her mouth seemed to contort into a frown, and that she kept glancing over towards angelica. from what he gathered, just to make sure she’s okay.

“…where are your parents, angelica?” mike had asked cautiously, looking down at the replicate-batman standing before him, who was plucking a piece of cotton-candy into her mouth.

angelica’s features softened as a shrug appeared across her shoulders. “i dunno. y/n takes care of me when they’re not home.”

abby budged in, little hands grabbing at his wrist to catch mike’s attention. “pleassseeee mike! you would be the best big brother ever!”

okay, now he can’t turn that down.

a sigh escaped his lips as he accepted defeat, smiling down at the two girls quickly before raising a hand to ruffle up abby’s curls. “okay, fine. i’ll go talk to her. but don’t go too far, okay?”

“okay!” abby and angelica shouted, immediately making a beeline towards a table that had supplies set up to make turkey-hand pictures.

as he watched the two girls run off, mike bit at the inside of his cheek, a hand moving through his hair. before he knew it, he was beginning to walk towards angelica’s older sister.

as he came within ear shot, he awkwardly cleared his throat — already hating the fact that he felt swarmed in social anxiety.

your eyes drifted over from where angelica hovered at the table, to now mike standing before you, a little surprise to your features. before you could speak, he was already taking the initiative.

“hey… you’re angelica’s older sister, right?” he asked tentatively, a little hesitation in his voice.

then you laughed, softly.

“yeah, yeah. i’m y/n, you must be mike?” you responded with a subtle smile, the exchange catching mike off guard.

“how do you..—“

“angelica loves to tell stories.” you grinned, looking down at your feet for a second, your eyes meeting together once more when you glanced back up. “and she tells me all the time about how she wants a sleepover with abby, but her big brother has to speak to me first.”

a laugh — a genuine laugh fell from mike as his shoulders shook slightly, lips contorting into a smile as he placed his hands into the pockets of his hoodie.

“yeah… sorry, it’s just a precaution.”

“don’t even worry about it. i get it.” you reassured, taking a quick look at your younger sister who was now holding up a picture of her magical turkey to show abby. you chuckled.

“uhm,” mike’s voice steered you away, pulling your attention towards him, “angelica said that you’re taking care of her right now..?”

he watched as you nodded, noticing the subtle purse of your lips as they tightened for a second, parting only shortly after.

“yeah— my parents are really busy, so i’ve been taking some time away from college to look after angelica.” you explained softly, rubbing at your arm gently.

“my dad’s a pretty hefty lawyer and my mom travels for work, so there’s no one else except for me.” you cleared your throat, putting on a small smile.

mike nodded, feeling a little guilty but at the same time, remorse and familiarity. you two weren’t in the same boat, but definitely shared some aspects.

“hey, i get it.” mike smiled, his voice soft despite the mantra of children yelling and laughing all around them. “just wanted to make sure you weren’t a serial killer or anything.”

that comment alone made a loud laugh spill from your lips, enough that you attempted to hide it with your hand — eyes glimmering towards him.

“absolutely not.”

since then, mike approved sleepovers — but only if they were at his place, still feeling a little iffy having abby at another persons house, but that paranoia slowly begin to die away the further mike was able to spend time with you.

you would drop angelica off on friday night, talking with mike at the door while angelica immediately threw her stuff down and bolted towards abby’s room.

“angie, you can’t just leave your stuff like—“ you tried to lecture gently, letting out a sigh when it became apparent that it was a lost cause.

mike looked down from where he held the door open, laughing at the small pile of clothes and toys now by his feet.

“i’m sorry—“

“don’t sweat it. they’re kids.” mike reassured with a chuckle.

when he looked back up to you, there was a pull he felt. like an inkling, almost.

“do.. you wanna come inside real quick? the weather is kinda nasty,” he asked, glancing behind you to see the cruddy rainstorm beginning to peak.

hesitation lingered on your features before a shrug danced off your shoulders. “sure, i don’t have anything else to do tonight.”

you weren’t expecting to stay longer than thirty minutes, so when you glanced down at your watch to see that you had stayed for almost three hours came as a surprise.

of course, abby and angelica blindsided you both and immediately wanted to play all these different games at once. dress up, cops vs. robbers, hide and seek. you were slumped after racing around the house for the umpteenth time, exhausted after finding angelica hiding in a freaking kitchen cabinet whilst playing hide and seek.

you fell back onto the worn couch in the living room with a sigh, wiping some sweat that gathered on the crown of your hairline. in your peripheral, you saw mike coming in from the kitchen with a water bottle, and you sighed happily when he handed it to you.

“thanks.” you beamed, grinning softly as you took a few swigs. “jesus christ, i forgot how energetic kids were.”

mike boasted a laugh, sitting down beside you with a grunt. “tell me about it. i didn’t think hide and seek could be that exhausting.”

“right?!” you laughed loudly, eyes widening as you looked over at him. “i remember hiding behind curtains and inside closets, not in the freaking kitchen cabinet?”

“abby somehow hid behind her desk. i don’t even want to know how that was possible.”

conversation felt easy between the two of you. even back at the harvest festival, where mike was afraid he was going to make a fool out of himself somehow, you were able to strip away that anxiety.

“hey… uhm, thanks for letting abby and angelica do this.” mike suddenly spoke, pulling you away from your thoughts. you glanced over to see him looking down at his hands that rested in his lap.

“abby’s had a hard time making friends until she met angelica, and i’m just— really happy she’s getting out, being a kid, you know?”

your heart clenched at his words, brows contorting into a sympathetic look as you smiled over at him softly.

“angelica doesn’t really understand why our parents are gone so often. every time she comes home, she gets all excited to see them and the disappointment on her face when she realizes that they’re not home is…” you trailed off, smiling sadly.

“i’m really glad angelica has abby. i don’t see the disappointment on her face anymore when she comes home. now, all she has are a bunch of stories of what the two of them did during school.”

the smile that graced mike’s lips caused your heart to thump — a sudden skip that surprised you. it caused his eyes to crinkle slightly, the smallest bit of a laugh falling through that made your heart race even further.

“i think,” you spoke out, not realizing that the words were spilling from your lips until you could hear yourself speaking, “that we should let them have a sleepover every friday.”

maybe it was because you wanted to make a tradition with abby and angelica.

or maybe it was because you wanted to see mike more.

your gazes met, and mike grinned, nodding his head.

“sounds like a plan to me.”

#sorry if the ending is a little rushed );#also will go back and edit this later #just wanted to get it out there!#mike schimdt x you #fnaf movie mike #mike schimdt x reader #fnaf mike schmidt #fnaf mike #mike schmidt

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