#it has his signature all right!

[casualavocados]

me when p'aof makes a series that's good:

#i know its only been 2 eps and this is a subject he could easily fumble #but this is still the best thing thats come out of gmm this year since mlc #last twilight #it has his signature all right! #the shots the atmosphere the way everyone is so human and everything is so lived in #he just Gets It i dont know how he does it but thank god #backaof noppharnach

[whatudottu]

Angey Dreadwing AKA, “POV you used his brother’s corpse to make your new skin suit”

Ah a traditional pencil to paper Dreadwing, and he’s FUCKING PISSED :D!

#dreadwing #tfp dreadwing #transformers #tfp #altered loyalties #maccadam #fanart #yes babes this is going in the altered loyalties tag because i put skyke through some shit y’all #in deciding to keep breaky alive i wondered who might fill an (actually- unlike canon) emotionally charged replacement #and well- i have a corpse right on hand #because altered loyalties screamer doesn’t attempt to revive skyquake even if he does use de for a healing boost #*looks at megan and his ‘i survived a spacebridge explosion and all i got was a cocaine addiction’ ass* #shadowzone is instead the return to skyquake’s deathbed (his earth comm tower) only for de hopped up screamer to find NOTHING #something something the terrocons are an ongoing threat in altered loyalties- yada yada the ‘crime’ scene has been disturbed #the first assumption is that maybe the presence of uncloaked energon brought the dead here and got their own energon all over skyquake #but why is his hand still there? why is his hand the ONLY THING LEFT!? #why is the dirt full of small little footprints #starscream doesn’t have much time to question the details for there WAS a terrocon presence nearby and the autobots are reading loud and- #clear starscream’s dark energon signature- assumably the terrocons did too as they seem to have caught the scent #shadowzone would then play out like it does in canon but be vehicon terrocons (skyquake’s previous guardian team) #but honestly i just wanted to draw a really REALLY FUCKING PISSED dreadwing because i wanted to see that #do you think that if a bot with optics like the twins (and breakdown) can get so angry that you can see their pupil just from how bright the #optics get? just enveloped in a sea of red that all leads directly to the white hot centre? #because i like to think that :)

[fist-amidst-the-hands]

something something after a particularly rough fight izzy has a cut high on his cheekbone near the corner of his eye. ed tends to his injuries and maybe it's the rum or maybe it's the way izzy is looking at him but he can't stop thinking about placing a tender kiss right over the mark

#ofmd #ofmd hc #blackhands #maybe they've fucked before maybe they've even made out a few times (drunkenly) but this... #this level of tenderness is something thats been building and growing and threatening to boil over but never has #because they can justify a quick fuck or even a sloppy drunken makeout session #that tension is strung so taught it's easy for it to snap #but this... this isn't tension. it's not strained enough for a snap #it's wide and deep and surrounds them like an unseen haze #it runs through their veins at all times it's always there it's gentle #hard to know when it even started and harder still to know what the tipping point will be because well #it's been there for so long #in my head this is when they're young and still crewmates on someone else's ship #later when they give each other their first tattoos izzy lets ed pick what to give him and just says 'keep it simple' #so ed chooses that spot just below the corner of his eye where he first gave in to tenderness #izzy blushes when he realizes and ed jalf smirks half smiles at the response #also this wasn't intended to be part of it BUT since ed can't read/write this is basically ed's signature right #oof i also want to make this part of a bigger thing but only time will tell #y'all when i said i can and i will go off in the tags I was NOT joking askdlfs #just a little post #... with big tags

[vespertine-legacy]

Ok, but like. The agent's Nar Shaddaa mission had to have been about 80% unsanctioned, right? Like, yeah, go find out about and dismantle any terror cell on Nar Shaddaa, by whatever means you deem best, yes. But the means being "collaborate with a former Watcher who so deeply traumatized the rest of the Agency that they can't even talk about what happened but they thank you if you kill him" can't have been like. "plan a."

#swtor imperial agent #i really deeply feel that watcher x and watcher two have a past together #even if she wasn't at all connected to the ops that Went Wrong and eventually got him 'retired' #i think there's hero-worship there and a fear of becoming him #and a need to prove that surely she doesn't actually have anything to worry about #and sure maybe he did one bad thing (or a series of bad things) #but the conditioning is still there and still right. and the empire is still right.... right? #agent narsh is just watcher two trying to prove to herself that Everything Is Okay #and then everything backfiring spectacularly #if you couldn't trust me why would imperial intelligence give us this assignment - i don't think they did #i think watcher two did because she wants so badly to believe that even though watcher x Went Wrong he's still the Watcher she admired #and yes yes i'm sure watchers are given a large degree of freedom in terms of what specific assignments they send their agents on #but as much as she likes what's proper and 'the rules' idk if she actually got the official go-ahead on this one #like. keeper's got his hands full anyway dealing with. yaknow. everything falling apart. #she can justify not getting his signature on every little thing if it's gonna cause him more hassle to make him sign off #so ask for forgiveness instead of permission when her brilliant plan works because surely it's going to work #watcher x makes her skin crawl but her cipher is Very Good #and he's the watcher she always dreamed of being #so it has to be the right call to pair them up. right? #sorry for writing a novel in the tags but you know it is with imperial agent replays

[weird-life-of-a-closet-fangirl]

Currently thinking about katya waiting for sofia in that cargo hold, dreaming a whole new life for them both to enjoy together, safely across the sea, while sofia lies in a pool of her own blood, bleeding out from where andrey shot her. That scene legitimately haunts me.

#goncharov #unreality #THE MUSIC IN THIS SCENE #I WAS SCREAMING SO LOUD #the way its a reprise of the music from the scene when they first met #and god #oh my god #the ANGER on andrey's face #the pan out right after he shoots sofia #the echo of the gunshot and the tears on sofia's face #andrey kneeling down in her blood and smearing it onto her face #mocking the way she'd always leave her signature red lipstick on her victims #(somehow I've turned sofia into a femme fatale) #him walking away and washing his hands a few streets over #LISTEN WHEN I TELL YOU ANDREY HAS SO MUCH JUDAS IMAGERY ASSOCIATED WITH HIS CHARACTER #this is all right before the cathedral scene btw :) #the big turning point for andrey and goncharov #also once again this is all a fake plot for a fake movie #i hope this aligns with the lore bc idk how much the lore has developed since yesterday

[ad-wills]

[IMAGE DESCRIPTION] Anakin Padme 4 Panel meme (aka: For the Better, Right?) created from the 2002 film Star Wars: Episode II – Attack of the Clones. Both are sitting in a field of grass with a few flowers throughout. All but the first panel has their respective face occupy the majority of the panel. Starting from the top left to bottom right…

Top Left Box: Anakin, a Jedi with the words "writer/artist" over his forehead, squints to his left at Padmé, the love of his life, and says "I'm working on a WIP." Top Right Box: Padmé, the Senator of planet Naboo with the words "their friend" over her forehead, smiles gleefully at Anakin and says "Yes, I know. The one you told me about before, right?" Bottom Left Box: Anakin, looking at Padmé almost pleased or humoured with just barely the hint of a smile, not saying anything at all. His panel is zoomed significantly further in than last time. Bottom Right Box: Padmé, looking at Anakin somewhat concerned with the words "their concerned friend" over her forehead, says "You finished that first… right?" Her panel is zoom slightly further out than last time.

In the top left corner of the bottom left panel is the signature "@_ADWills". [END OF IMAGE DESCRIPTION]

#writing #writing memes #writers #writers on tumblr #writing humor #meme #art meme #artists on tumblr

[shotmrmiller]

ik i've heard of penpals with cod but like getting simon as your dedicated pal for say, college or something would be terrible.

at first he's reluctant. why would he talk to some civvie that hasn't a clue about what goes on in the world he lives in? probably thinks him a recruiter or something, not a man who has removed the skin off of another just for a name of an enemy.

john tells him to suck it up, it's not like it can kill him.

simon gets the letter and it's... entertaining. you write, almost illegibly, that you really don't want to do this, that if it wasn't such a hefty percent of your grade you wouldn't even have bothered.

nothing but a poor man fighting a rich man's war. like some puppet, manipulated by a more powerful force-- not a single decision nor thought your own.

interesting. he hasn't been talked down to like this since his days as a private. granted, if you knew what he looked like you would've probably swallowed your own tongue but that's neither here nor there.

he chuckles under his breath, and picks up the envelope.

the stamp has a waterfall on it and it says harrison wright falls.

american.

he writes that you're right. he's nothing but a muppet with a hand up his arse. but what's got you so upset over the military? not like you suffer the consequences sitting pretty in your cozy home. the hardest battle you've ever fought is a school project.

the letter you send back has him rumbling with laughter. you're furious. he can see one too many holes from where the pen tore through the paper in your rage, and some words you crossed out with a singular line.

listen, asshole, you falling for the UK military propaganda is not my fault. no one made you sign up, idiot.

you continue on about him being a murderer which he gives a small hum to because you've no idea how right you are. simon vaguely wonders if you'd still write him if you knew just how many necks he's snapped with his bare hands.

you're quite abrasive, a little spitfire that holds nothing back, and it makes him achingly curious to know just who you are.

he pulls up your info on his personal laptop, and can feel his cock stirring just from your driver's license photo alone.

cute. very cute. you look soft, kind. a gentle ㅤsmile graces your lips. he almost doubts that the person on his screen is you, but the signature on your license and the letters you've sent is the exact same.

so very interesting. steel concealed beneath velvet.

he taps his fingers on the surface of his desk as he gazes at your charming, lovely countenance. pretty as a peach.

his chair creaks under him as he reaches for a pen.

simon's kept all your letters, the paper worn and almost in tatters from the amount of times he's read them-- ink smudged from him running his bare fingertips over each hateful word.

he can't wait for next leave; simon's heard that ricketts glen state park is beautiful during the fall.

#call of duty #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw2 #cod mwii #simon riley x reader

[meiieiri]

𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐤, 𝐢 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐥𝐞 ! [toji fushiguro]

synopsis: in which toji notices how you color-code your outfit every time you see each other…and promptly makes a game out of it in hopes it will cure his gambling addiction.

pairing: toji fushiguro x f!reader | song inspo: colors | outfit inspos | hidden inventory: the lost tapes series masterlist

warnings: 18+, suggestive themes at the end (explicit sex, fingering, mentions of masturbation), but otherwise, just a fluffy/semi-angst/semi-crack scenario of a lovestruck toji trying to cure his gambling addiction~~

Chewing on his pen, Toji’s fangs were beginning to hurt as he stares at the blank face of a random receipt he found in his mostly empty wallet. He seems to be deep in thought, he almost looks like he’s trying his best to crack a mathematical mystery except…he doesn’t give a shit about math and the only mystery he seems to be interested in cracking is…

“Hey, I’m sorry I’m late!”

“Fuck.”

There you were in all your radiant magnificence eagerly waving to him from the university gates with your signature gummy smile he’s grown to love so much. You looked so beautiful and happy today…and you were wearing purple. A purple floral wrap dress. He was so sure you were gonna be wearing pink today Toji crosses out today’s date and the word: pink next to it with a frustrated “X”.

And in case anyone was wondering, this little guess-the-color-his-girlfriend-is-wearing-today game is something he came up with on a whim one day while waiting to pick you up after class. Of all the misfortune that has befallen him in his life, he has to thank the Zenin clan for one thing: sparing him the trouble of having to sit through an entire day of brain-frying university lectures about Kant’s second law of physics.

He hurriedly buries the receipt in his back pocket as he crosses the street, closing the twenty-five meter gap between the two of you. Pressing his lips against yours, Toji hums appreciatively when he tastes his favorite strawberry-flavored lip tint on your Cupid’s bow. You giggle as you nuzzle his nose when he pulls away, your hot breaths against one another’s lips providing a sense of comfort to you both. “What were you saying a while ago?”

“Ah, nothing.” Toji places a protective hand around your waist as the two of you walk to the nearby park for your and his usual after class/work stroll. “Just the usual profanity.”

Your lips curl into a soft pout at the thought of your boyfriend being upset about something. “Why?”

“Nothing babe,” he presses a soft kiss to your temple, his arm coming to rest on your shoulders. “Just lost at the boat races again,” he easily comes up with a white lie — a white lie that is bound to make you sad. He knows how upset you get when he relapses into his gambling addiction which, in his defense, he really is trying to quit for his and your — mostly your — sake. “Ah, I’ll do better, squirt. ‘m sorry.”

“Please?” you plead with him softly to which he nods, softly pinching your cheek in a silent promise to try to limit his gambling to…

…Getting tomorrow’s color right.

The next day, Toji spends about fifteen minutes in the shower trying to figure out what color you’d be wearing today. He’s already ruled out the possibility of you wearing black since it’s thirty degrees outside today, but with your extensive wardrobe, crossing out one color from the list is hardly enough to narrow it down. He’s never felt like this with boat races before since he has this natural tendency to just pick the boat with the most stable engine.

Ah, who was he kidding? He’ll just have to guess…and hope for the best, he steps out of the shower a few minutes of deliberation later.

After putting on a black shirt, he looks at his makeshift gambling ticket on the kitchenette counter with an angry look on his face. “Red. It has to be red.” He jots it down next to today’s date in red ink as if to manifest you’ll wear your off-shoulder red top today and those black trousers you bought from that thrift store in Harajuku last week.

Suddenly, a knock rips through the silence of his apartment and he goes to immediately answer the door. Toji clasps his hand around the doorknob for a bit, somehow still intent on delaying the inevitable. “Toji? The bags are getting kinda heavy,” you sheepishly called from the other side of the door and your boyfriend instantly snaps out of it. He swings the door open a little too aggressively that it makes you jump a bit when you hear the ear-splitting screech of the hinges nearly coming off the door. “Ah…hi, babe?”

You don’t know what to make of Toji’s face.

It’s like he’s feeling an odd mix of emotions all piled into one that they somehow cancelled each other out and now, he’s…staring at you…blankly. You have to admit, it looks a little funny. It’s not his usual stoic expression, it’s just pure…nothingness…like he caught a glimpse of the void or something and he can’t peel his eyes away from it.

“Can I come in—?”

“—Hi.”

“Eh?”

You burst out laughing at his delayed response. It’s like your boyfriend buffered for a full minute there which is so unlike him, considering he’s always so smoothly unbothered and suave in his demeanor. Toji scowls when you place a hand over his forehead. “You feeling okay?”

Toji gently shrugs your hand away, nodding absentmindedly. “Fine.” That sounded awfully peachy but you didn’t mind, Toji’s normally so awkward anyway, unbeknownst to most. In the eyes of those who don’t know him, Toji’s image is nothing short of a big, bad delinquent, but in your eyes, you mostly associate him with a typical house cat — quiet and snooty in every regard but actually genuinely affectionate. “Oh, let me help you with those.” He crouches down to help you with the groceries, sneakily stealing a kiss from you as you remove your shoes at the genkan before stepping into the living room.

Toji watches as you bound over to his apartment’s balcony, searching for the stray cat that normally drops by in the afternoon, with a grimace on his face.

“Of course she’s wearing beige,” he grumbles under his breath. Again, he crosses out today’s entry a little more forcefully this time.

At the balcony, you find Toji’s pet emeritus lounging away at the foot of the laundry rack. “Oh, there you are!” You crouch down and pet the white cat whom Toji affectionately refers to as ‘Yuki’ when he thinks you aren’t listening in whenever he feeds it after dinner. “You look like you could use a warm bath, come on!” You gently pick up the little creature and bring her inside. “Toji, I found Yuki~!”

You stop in your tracks when you see Toji with his forehead pressed to the cold marble counter causing you to instinctively place a comfort hand on his upper back to placate him while Yuki climbs atop the counter. At the familiarness of your touch, Toji, who looks like he’s still upset over some unknown thing he won’t tell you, rights his posture. What’s a man gotta do to get a winning streak around here?

“Hey, maybe you should lie down…”

“…I’m okay,” Toji half-whimpers, defeated, gaping at Yuki as she licks her paw contentedly. “Huh. You brought the fleabag in here?”

Somehow offended by that, Yuki violently hisses at him.

Okay, something is seriously wrong with Toji.

You just came out from using the washroom to see Toji on the kotatsu agitatedly scribbling on a piece of paper that doesn’t exactly look like a betting stub. You surmised it would have been something like that since Toji doesn’t normally get angry over anything except losing money on bets, but you are thoroughly surprised and comforted to see that wasn’t the case this time around. You sit down next to him, pulling your big baby into an embrace.

“My poor baby,” you teased amid Toji’s obvious misery. “Wanna tell me what’s wrong?” you smiled softly when he playfully pushes you down onto the tatami mats, all his weight pinning you down, his hand easily overwhelming yours as he pins them above your head. You try to squirm away from him, laughing when his other hand secures your hip to the floor, rendering you unable to struggle against him. Then, he lowers his lips close to your ear, his warm breath sending goosebumps to appear all over your skin, he sighs, falling slack at the crook of your neck.

Toji hates this, he probably looks like a kicked dog right now.

Today’s bet was yellow but when you opened the door to your apartment, you were wearing a mint green sweater over your cream relaxed fit ankle pants.

“Why can’t I do it? Why can’t I just win for once?” Toji’s voice is muffled as he buries his face in your shoulder. Instantly, you feel a pit form in your stomach. You’ve heard this before. You slowly push him off of you, your disappointment palpable in the way you utter your next words.

“Toji, you’ve been…gambling again, haven’t you? Baby, we talked about this.”

Your lover steadies the movements of his chest, feeling the need to defend himself. He wasn’t gambling, quite the contrary really, the thought of wandering over to the horse races hasn’t crossed his mind since he started this harmless little game. But Rome wasn’t built in a day, and every so often, he relapses into these undertones of his gambling addiction particularly the crippling desire to win at least once, to guess just one daily color scheme right.

And he’ll let it go. He swears he’ll let it go.

“I know, but really, babe, I’m not—“

“—Really? Then, what’s this?” You shakily point to the folded up piece of paper on the kotatsu. He has to pinch himself to hold in his laughter when he sees just how cutely distressed you are over an unassuming crepe stall receipt. “Don’t you start laughing now!” You swat his arm.

“I’m not laughing, you brat!” Toji purses his lips together, thoroughly enamored by you right now. “You’re worrying over nothing, Y/N. Trust me.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, pushing Toji’s face away when he tries to kiss you. You cheeky little brat. “But you’re acting so weird though…” You poke him relentlessly on the cheek to get him to come clean, and you dodge whenever he tries to playfully catch your index finger with his teeth. “Just tell me.”

“Nope.”

You climb onto his lap, hugging him.

“Please.”

A kiss is a good bribe right?

“Uh-uh.”

He returns the kiss with a loud smooch!

“I’ll break up with you.”

You whine when he flicks your forehead, leaving an obvious red mark on it.

“You won’t.”

Your little back and forth is interrupted by the sound of the doorbell ringing. Sighing, you finally let go of him. Looks like he isn’t going to budge. Toji gets up to answer the door, setting you down on the cushioned seat. Feeling a little bad when he glances back to see you still sulking about the issue, he subtly and intentionally allows the receipt to fall from his pocket knowing you’ll almost certainly go straight for it. He’ll just have to deal with your constant teasing for the next two weeks once you read the contents of the slip of paper. But he’d rather hear you laughing your heart out (even if it’s at his expense) than see you getting all anxious about him slipping back into his old destructive hobbies.

When you see the piece of paper falling like a leaf dancing in the wind, your eyes light up, and you crawl over to the spot where it’s fallen near the small bookshelf you have in the corner.

“Rakuten delivery.” Toji signs the courier’s clipboard, receiving your package. Just as he’s about to walk back into the living room to hand you your parcel, he stops in his tracks when he hears your cute chortles which you’re pathetically trying to subdue and a smirk appears on the corner of Toji’s lips.

Looks like the crisis has been averted for now.

“Wait, Toji…”

Toji pretends to not hear you, his fingers still buried in your sopping cunt, lusciously pushing in and out, your arousal coating his fingertips as he devours your lips in wanton need. You moan out his name again and he scowls when you reluctantly remove his fingers from your heat. “What? What is it?” What could possibly be so important?

You flush when he sensually licks his fingers clean, and you sit up, pulling down your skater skirt. “What’s an anniversary without a little surprise?” You kissed him on the lips, lingering for a bit, your eyes fluttering close as you taste your arousal on his tongue. “Mmh…”

“Just forget it.” Toji bucks his hips against yours, his clothed erection rubbing against your bare slit.

“No way. Just…wait here,” you kiss him again, boldly running your tongue over his bottom lip before pulling away and heading to the bathroom to get your surprise ready.

Toji groans in frustration, his head hitting the pillows he set down on the futon. After a few restless moments of him resisting the urge to fuck his hardened cock into his hand to finish himself off, he hears your melodious voice calling for him from down the hall.

A satisfied lopsided smirk appears on Toji’s lips, his eyes dark as he gazes at the most beautiful being in the world right now, shyly making her way towards him wearing nothing but an emerald silk robe. He licks his lips when he sees the outline of your nipples through the fabric, smirking as you sit down on the foot of the futon.

“All that for a silly little robe? What a letdown,” Toji smirks as he moves to untie the knot of your robe, only for you to slap his hand away.

“Uh-uh…you have to guess first.”

Toji gulps when you pull out the one thing he’s been agonizing over for the last few weeks from your robe’s hidden pocket. You grab a pen from the nearby bookshelf which he expertly catches when you throw it in his direction alongside the crumpled up piece of paper he’d been meaning to destroy for a while now.

“If you guess right, we could ditch the condom tonight. So do well,” you innocently bat your eyelashes at him.

Toji looks like he wants to jump off a ditch, the obvious tent in his sweatpants indicating just how hard he is right now. “No, don’t do this. Don’t fucking do this, Y/N…”

“…What color am I wearing tonight?”

#—​𝙝𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙞𝙣𝙫𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙮: 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙡𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙩𝙖𝙥𝙚𝙨 🍓 #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #toji x reader smut #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x reader #toji smut #jujutsu toji #jjk toji #jujutsu kaisen toji #toji zenin #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #toji fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #toji imagine #toji headcanons #toji drabbles #toji fushiguro x y/n #toji fushiguro x reader smut #toji zenin x reader smut #toji zenin x y/n smut #toji zenin smut #toji zenin x reader #toji fushigro x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk drabbles

[ohproserpine]

iv. dolly

see all chapters here tags: fem! reader, reader is a performer in a speakeasy, jealousy, possessiveness, alastor does not know how to interpret love, or maybe he does, in his own twisted way, roadkill used as a symbolism, gorey descriptions of love, murder the song she sings is 'roxie' from chicago

˚୨୧₊♱

"Hey!" Charlie's voice rang out as she spotted Mimzy making her way towards the hotel entrance. The blonde froze, casting a nervous glance behind her to see the demon princess rapidly approaching with a worried look that she mistook for anger.

With practiced ease, the blonde put on a fake frown, pressing her hand over her chest. "Oh, Charlie! I'm so sorry for the trouble last night, sugar! I'll pay—"

"No, no! I'm not here for that," Charlie waved her hands with a smile, seemingly oblivious to the slump of relief on Mimzy's shoulders. "Are you leaving so soon? The hotel wouldn't mind taking you in!"

Caught off guard by Charlie's unexpected offer, Mimzy grimaced. She hesitated, opening her mouth before shutting it as she struggled to find the right words. "Oh! Well…you see…"

A laughing track, sounding like it was filtered through a radio, echoed through the air, and Mimzy turned to the source to find Alastor towering over her with his signature grin.

"I don't think redemption is quite her style," Alastor's chipper voice rang out. His clawed hand reached for Mimzy’s hair, plucking a feather from her headpiece. In his hands, the pink ornament erupted into flames. "Frankly, I have my doubts she could even be redeemed at all!"

Horrified, Mimzy watched as her feather fell to the floor in ashes, her hand instinctively reaching for the charred remnants.

"Alastor," Charlie glared at him before turning her attention back to Mimzy. "We believe in redemption for everyone. It's not about what you were; it's about what you choose to be now. We'll be here to support you every step of the way."

"Thanks, sugar," Mimzy forced a smile, waving her hand around daintily. She glanced at the entrance with a subtle wish for escape, playing up the nice act while Alastor continued to watch the scene unfold with a cryptic smile. "But radio here is right. I don't really think it's my style. Different strokes for different folks. Plus, I've got a business to run!"

Alastor hummed, twirling his microphone cane around in his hand. The crimson glow of his eyes narrowed at her as he chuckled. "You couldn't possibly mean that wooden box of debauchery you call a club, right?"

"My 'wooden box of debauchery' has more character than any joint in that city," Mimzy grit her teeth together in a smile, barely concealing her frustration.

As another argument began to form, a throat clearing interrupted the flow, capturing Mimzy's attention. A pink glove slowly rose from the couch and Angel Dust pushed himself off the furniture, sitting up with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"If I may~" Angel Dust chimed in. "You saying you, ah, got a bar? I'm always up for checking out new places. Mind if I swing by sometime, tits?"

Mimzy beamed and sent Alastor a smug look, making her way toward Angel Dust. She reached into her chest, pulling out a card with a flourish. "Of course, kitten! Here's all our information. You'll find us in the Vee district. Feel free to swing by anytime. And don't forget to bring a friend!"

Angel Dust took the offered card, a grin forming on his face. "Bring a friend, huh? You got it, toots."

˚୨୧₊♱

The Vee district, designated as the entertainment hub of Pride, was dazzled with bright neon lights and tall towering buildings adorned with blazing billboards. The streets pulsed with life, where every ten steps brought you face-to-face with street performers desperately vying for attention, hoping to catch the eyes of industry scouts. The message was clear – fame was the ticket to success. Performers were everywhere, found in rundown bars, neon nightclubs, and costly theaters catering to the insatiable appetites of the elite.

Mimzy's Lounge, nestled down east on one of the city's worse-off streets was no fancy stage. The building, weathered and worn, seemed to barely hold itself together. The exterior bore the scars of years gone by, with cracked windows, peeling paint, and near-rotting wooden walls. While it may not have been on the standards of the elite, to the poor and downtrodden, it was the best piece of entertainment they could afford.

Inside, the dim lighting of the bar did little to conceal the stains and cracks that adorned the floor and ceiling. Tables and chairs, mismatched, were arranged haphazardly. The air hung heavy with the smell of cheap perfume, wrapping around the audience—a motley crew of lost souls. On the stage, a couple of scantily clad showgirls were performing a dance routine, or at least their movements vaguely resembled one. The quality of the performance didn't seem to matter to the audience, who, hungry for any form of entertainment, welcomed the spectacle with open arms.

Seated discreetly in the back booths, Angel and Cherri had drawn their curtains tight, creating a cocoon of privacy amid the bustling buzz and thumping music in the club.

"…And check this out – Alastor is hitched," Angel Dust spat out the last word as if it were poison. His face caught the warm, bright lights spilling into their booth, slipping through the small gap in the middle of the curtains. He sipped from his drink, a glint in his eyes. "And the owner here's got some serious dirt on his missus or somethin' like that."

"That why you dragged me to this hellhole? Knew it," Cherri snorted, taking a sip of her cocktail, the sweet and tangy flavors doing little to mask the less-than-pleasant ambiance. "Couldn't believe you'd even want to step into a place like this."

"You know I can't resist a bit of gossip, and where else can you find more gossip than in a joint run by a gal who's got the goods on Alastor himself?" Angel grinned, his golden tooth flashing as he reclined in his torn red chair. "Hell. I bet anyone else would do what I'm doin'. I mean, who wouldn't be tearin' these walls down just to catch a glimpse of the Radio Demon's wife?"

Cherri Bomb let out a throaty chuckle. "Well, you're bloody right there."

A sudden blast of music echoed through the air, prompting Angel Dust to scramble out of his seat and poke his head out from behind the curtain. The previous performers stepped off the stage, making way for the upcoming act. He caught sight of a familiar pudgy figure sauntering onto the stage and hastily turned his head back to the booth, meeting Cherri's amused face. "It's startin'!"

“Welcome, all you devils and darlings, to the Dollhouse Lounge!” Mimzy's voice boomed, and the lights gracefully dimmed to focus on her. The hum of conversation dwindled, the audience's attention now on the stage. “It's the moment you've all been waiting for! The last act of the night… Dolly, the living doll!"

With Mimzy's spirited introduction, the claps and cheers crackled in the air. In an instant, the lights plunged into darkness, leaving Angel to flit his gaze across the smoke-hazed stage, hungry for a glimpse of what was to come. Suddenly, a surge of stage lights sliced through the lingering smoke, akin to a celestial burst, revealing your silhouette with a large signage that spelled out your name in bold, red letters.

Wearing a lovely smile, you spread your arms wide, catching everyone's attention as you sang the first note, voice sultry and dripping sweet like honey. "The name on everybody's lips is gonna be Dolly."

"That's his wife?" Cherri gawked behind Angel, her jaw dropping in disbelief. "Are you sure we got the right girl?"

"Hell, I'm just as surprised as you are," Angel shot back, an equally dumfounded look on his face.

"The lady raking in the chips Is gonna be Dolly," your voice echoed, the melody carrying through the lounge as you strolled towards the stage's platform. The rhythmic beat of the music vibrated against the soles of your heels while the spotlight dutifully trailed after you, its gentle glow caressing the curves of your glittery dress, casting glimmers of silver and gold that danced across the dimly lit bar.

"I'm gonna be a celebrity. That means somebody everyone knows," you continued, sauntering around the stage. As you swirled and twirled, your silhouette became a blur of sequins and shimmer. The spotlight then intensified its focus on you, highlighting the glint in your eyes. "They're gonna recognize my eyes. My hair, my teeth, my boobs, my nose."

"Fuck," Angel muttered under his breath. As you moved closer to the end of the platform, he could finally get a good look at you.

Shimmery blue eyeshadow graced your lids, while a dark blush adorned the apples of your cheeks, complementing the red lipstick you had on. Your dress, a dazzling ensemble of sequins, was not only radiant but also provocatively low-cut, teasingly revealing a glimpse of your chest before gracefully dropping to your knees. Dark silk stockings, sensually tracing the contours of your legs, were held by garters. At your feet, bedazzled red Mary Janes sparkled like jewels, catching the light with every step you took.

As Angel thought back to his conversation with Mimzy, he found himself agreeing with her earlier comments. You really were a living, breathing doll.

"From just some dumb canni-bal’s wife. I'm gonna be Dolly," you continued, seamlessly weaving your magic, each lyric a spell that bound the audience. "Who says that murder's not an art?"

With a spin, you twirled around the stage, a ditzy grin on your face, the sequins on your gown catching the light like stars. "And who, in case she doesn't hang, can say she started with a bang! Dolly Heart!"

As the final notes of the song echoed through the venue, the room erupted in applause and cheers. But, the curtain wasn't falling yet. Standing backstage, Mimzy let the moment linger, reveling in the prolonged applause. After all, happy customers always tipped generously.

On cue, bills and coins descended like a storm, hitting the floor with a crisp sound that mixed beautifully with the cheers of the delighted audience. There was so much that the shower of currency formed a makeshift carpet beneath your feet.

Angel Dust, still peeking from behind the curtain, wore a smirk of approval. "Not bad, not bad at all," he whispered to Cherri, who nodded in agreement.

Standing on the stage, bathed in the lingering glow of the spotlight, you held your pose, chest heaving up and down. A demure smile graced your lips as soft, appreciative nods and fluttering eyelashes accompanied each gaze you cast toward the audience. Tonight's turnout was impressive, though not unexpected given your agreement to perform one of your most famous songs after a prolonged hiatus.

"Dolly" was a beloved crowd-pleaser and the one song you hated with a passion.

The spotlight continued to shine relentlessly in your eyes, causing a painful burn in your irises. The deafening applause felt like a relentless assault on your senses as each clap echoed loudly in your ears. From the speakers, the music blasted in waves, the volume rattling your bones. Showbusiness, a constant companion in both your living and afterlife, had become an achingly familiar yet tormenting cycle.

In the corner of your eye, you saw Mimzy step up onto the stage to address the crowd. "Thank you, my lovely devils and darlings! Wasn't Dolly simply darling tonight?" she squealed through the mic.

The crowd erupted in cheers and applause once more, the energy in the room reaching a fever pitch. Mimzy basked in the adoration, her grin widening as she soaked in the success and the money. Oh, the money.

"I know you loved that!" she laughed. She leaned into the microphone, her voice turning into a whisper "Of course, you all do. I wrote it."

"Now, let's give our star her rest. Dolly, my dear, take a bow!" Mimzy's voice rang out, signaling the end of the performance. Relieved, you bowed before making your way towards the curtains as the heavy fabrics began to descend. After blowing a few more kisses to the audience, you slipped backstage, letting the smile fade from your face. As you vanished from view behind the curtain, Angel caught the look on your face.

It was a look he knew all too well.

"She looks perfectly happy without him," Cherri remarked with a casual shrug. "I mean, look at 'er. She's the star of the show. You think she left on purpose?"

Angel furrowed his brows, deep in thought. It didn't make no sense to him.

Why would you willingly perform under Mimzy's control when Alastor, with his power, could easily get you out of here? Contract or no contract, that radio freak could tear Mimzy apart like a hot knife through butter.

The spider's attention shifted towards the audience, and his gaze locked onto Mimzy, who was engrossed in conversation with some VIPs. The sight of her triggered a scowl to etch itself onto his features.

"I don't think so. There's more to it," Angel's eyes narrowed, the wheels in his head turning, "I've seen that look before."

"What look?" Cherri raised an eyebrow.

"That trapped look," Angel said, his gaze following Mimzy as she continued her animated conversation, oblivious to the scrutiny. "Before the curtains dropped, I saw it on her."

"Shit, Angie," Cherri's gaze followed Angel's, and she pursed her lips. "You think she's playing the part or really stuck?"

Angel Dust stood up straight, now opening the curtains wide as his eyes never left Mimzy. "I don't know, but I'm gonna find out."

Both of them took their time, patiently waiting until Mimzy stepped away. Once the blonde demon finally made her way backstage, they discreetly followed her lead, slipping behind the curtains with her.

The busy backstage corridor welcomed them with an assortment of items – costumes, props, and stage decor – scattered in chaotic disarray. Angel's eyes wandered around, and he spotted Mimzy in a far corner, sitting atop worn cardboard boxes. Nudging Cherri, he gestured for both of them to move closer.

"Hey~ How's it going, blondie?" Angel purred, leaning against a nearby prop, his tone dripping with a sickly sweet tone. Mimzy looked up, confused before she recognized him and flashed a wide grin.

"Hey, you! You're that spider fella from the hotel!" She tapped her chin in thought narrowing her eyes at him. "Uhm, Angle Dust was it?"

"It's Angel Dust," he corrected, a twitch of annoyance in his eye.

"Uh-hah, that's nice," Mimzy seemed unfazed, continuing to count her money, her legs swinging back and forth absentmindedly. "You like the show? Oh, who am I kidding, of course, you did!"

Angel Dust crossed his arms with a chuckle. "Yeah, about that. That girl, Dolly. She's quite a number, ain't she?"

"Oh, yeah. She's my little masterpiece," Mimzy smirked. "Met her before she had any of this."

"Let's cut the fuckin' crap," Cherri rolled her eyes, tired of dancing around the conversation. The cyclops leaned down to Mimzy's height, scowling into her face and driving her finger into the blonde's chest. "I'll say it straight. What's the deal with her? You got some strings attached?"

Mimzy paused and glanced up at Cherri with an arched eyebrow before turning to Angel and laughing tensely. "Your friend here sure is forward, Ankle! Oh, sweethearts, Dolly's here because she wants to be."

Angel Dust shot Cherri a glance, a silent conversation passing between them. "Yeah?"

"The girl signed a contract willingly," Mimzy explained with a casual shrug. "She gets what she wants, and I get what I want. It's a fair exchange."

Angel's eyes narrowed, his skepticism evident. "Contract? What's in it for her, then? Why willingly perform in this dump when she could easily be the star anywhere else?"

The blonde sent Angel a glare for his dig at her lounge but still answered him. "Dolly owes me something. A little debt she's paying off with her charming performances. A contract might sound sinister, but it's just showbusiness, furs." Mimzy leaned back, folding her arms, her expression daring the two of them challenge her further.

"Bull. She sold you her soul to dance and sing?" Cherri scoffed, taking the challenge.

"No, no, there was no soul exchange involved," Mimzy rolled her eyes. "Just a contract. But still binding, magical, and all of that stuff."

"Now, can you two get out of my hair?" Mimzy huffed, shooing them away with a dismissive wave. "I've got a lot of things to run here!" She returned to counting her money, clearly eager to be rid of the unwanted attention.

"Let's go, Cherri," Angel said with a look of defeat, pushing himself off the prop he had been leaning on.

Once the two of them finally stepped out of the establishment, the spider groaned to himself, now finding himself with more questions than answers.

˚୨୧₊♱

You strolled behind the weighty curtains, the backstage area buzzing with the rush of staff, the shouts of managers, and the lingering presence of performers idly awaiting their cues. Navigating through the organized chaos, you directed your steps towards your private dressing room—a sanctuary away from the glaring spotlight.

You threw the door open, entering quickly and slamming it shut behind you, the sudden silence a stark contrast to the clamor and racket outside. Flicking a light switch, the dim glow of a single, flickering bulb hanging from the ceiling revealed the room's worn-out glamour. A vanity cluttered with makeup, costumes haphazardly thrown on a worn-out sofa, and a cracked mirror that had seen better days—all were familiar sights.

"I would kill for a glass of whiskey," you murmured to yourself, the weariness of the performance settling in. Rolling your head and groaning as you heard a satisfying crack, you added, "or maybe a whole bottle of it."

Kicking off your heels, you let the cool floor cradle your skin, leaving the discarded shoes in a dusty corner to rest. Seated at the vanity, the chaotic world beyond the backstage curtains ceased to exist. The gentle glow of the vanity lights exposed the weariness in your eyes as you wiped away your mascara and dusted off the remnants of glitter from your skin. While removing your earrings, the shimmer of your wedding ring caught your eye.

A frown tugged at your lips, the subtle ache of longing surfacing.

You missed your husband.

With a sigh, you continued removing your earrings before tossing them onto your vanity. Seeking to ease the edge, you reached for a whiskey bottle on a nearby dresser, grabbing a glass and pouring yourself a drink. The golden liquid glimmered in the subdued light as you took a sip, the warmth of the alcohol coursing through you.

"C̵h̶e̸r̷?̷"̸

A static rumble of a radio, like thunder, jolted you mid-drink, causing the liquid to catch in your throat. Coughing and sputtering for a while, you scrambled to collect yourself before turning behind you. Your gaze landed on the desk table where your radio sat. The crackling static continued, accompanied by a familiar voice and distorted sounds.

Alastor.

Grabbing a cloth to wipe yourself, you rushed to the desk and grabbed the old radio in your hands. The radio was a faded, worn red with yellowed dials, and its antennas were visibly broken, held up together with scraps of tape. Your contract with Mimzy did not allow you to meet with Alastor or his shadows for as long as you were under her, but that didn't mean you couldn't communicate with Alastor in other ways.

With trembling hands, you carefully adjusted the dials, aligning them to the familiar frequency that bridged the gap between you two. Your heart thrummed in your chest, head almost dizzy from anticipation. The distorted voices began to clear, and Alastor's distinctive voice cut through the static, a lifeline in the abyss.

"Cher, my dear, are you there?" Back in his room at the hotel, Alastor spoke through his mic, awaiting your response. He was sitting by the large windows, bathed in the dim glow of the Ring of Pride's lights. The hues painted a lovely ambiance against his skin, highlighting the contours of his sharp features as he reclined against a plush couch.

Heavy silence lingered for a while as you felt your throat closing up. Without realizing it, you began crying, your sobs echoing through Alastor's microphone.

"Yes, Al," you choked out between sobs, your hands gripping the surface of the radio tightly, nails scratching against the peeling paint. "I'm here. I missed you."

Alastor listened to your tearful voice through the crackling static, his shoulders tense as his claws clenched against his microphone handle. Your vulnerable confession hung heavily in the air, and he felt a storm stirring within him. Unsure of what to do with these emotions, he could only sit there and listen to you weep.

From the busiest street in Pentagram City to the darkest alleyways, Alastor's reputation as a bloodthirsty killer was infamous, and he reveled in it. The idea that an overlord like him could entertain genuine care for someone sounded preposterous. Throughout his human days and beyond, Alastor never felt such sentiments.

Decades ago, he only needed himself. However, ever since you entered his life, he became a man possessed.

The moment he first laid eyes on you, you were a vision of beauty with bright eyes, flushed cheeks, and he couldn't deny that he felt an inkling of fondness for you right from the start. But that was all it ever was—nothing more, nothing less.

Then, seemingly out of nowhere, he couldn't help but notice that the glow in your smile was brighter, lovelier. And despite his usual tendency to dismiss such details, Alastor couldn't look away. Not anymore.

You held him captive, like a deer frozen in the blinding glare of oncoming headlights. He was aware the collision was imminent, yet it still caught him off guard; A torrent of emotions crashing into him like a speeding truck, leaving him with twisted limbs and cracking bones, antlers torn from his head, fur matted and bloodied, with his heart exposed, beating vulnerably before you.

In the months that followed, Alastor remembered how foreign the feeling to him was. He didn't want to understand it, refused to, but each attempt to rip those festering emotions out of his chest only left him bleeding.

Looking back, Alastor finds himself incapable of fathoming how life was bearable before you entered it. The mere thought of returning to a time when you weren't present is something he refuses to entertain. The person he used to be, before he stepped into that speakeasy, now feels like a distant stranger, a mere shadow of the man he has become with you in his life.

The static in his thoughts subsided, in tandem with your crying and sobbing dying down. A prolonged pause lingered before Alastor interrupted the silence. "Cher, you know I'd bring you out of that wretched place if you just said the word."

A bitter laugh escaped your lips as you wiped away tears with your trembling fingers. "You tell me that every time we have these calls. Do you not get tired of it?"

"Never," Alastor hummed. The sound of your laughter, even tinged with bitterness, momentarily lifted the heavy burden that his heart carried. "The offer will always be up, darling!"

"You know I can't, Al. Me and her have history together," your voice paused, cracking with emotion. "And I still feel guilty."

Alastor sighed heavily, frustration dancing in his eyes. He always struggled to understand why you felt indebted to Mimzy, why guilt still clung to your decisions like a persistent shadow.

To him, Mimzy deserved the consequences. Despite his constant offers to free you from her grasp, you remained steadfast in your decision to complete your contract

"Very well, dear," Alastor's smooth voice crackled through the radio, weaving a comforting presence into the air as you moved back toward your vanity, taking a seat. "Now, enough of these melancholic talks. Tell me, how was the show tonight?"

"Mimzy had me perform 'Dolly' again," you remarked, a crooked smile playing on your lips. "She's well aware that I despise that song. I mean, really? Have you ever taken a look at the lyrics? It's a bit on the nose, don't you think?"

As your frustrations spilled out, Alastor stood from his seat, staff in hand. Placing it beside his closet, he attentively listened to your words, occasionally responding with chuckles and interjections. He slipped off his monocle, unbuttoned his suit jacket, and then his vest, revealing a well-tailored red undershirt that clung to his lean frame.

"I find the cannibal's wife line rather charming," Alastor smirked, and though he couldn't see it, you rolled your eyes in response.

"Of course you'd enjoy that part," you scoffed, mirroring Alastor's movements on the other side. Shedding the bedazzled dress, you opted for more comfortable attire, draping yourself in a robe.

"What's not to like? It shows the audience that you're my darling wife," Alastor quipped with a smug tone.

"Bushwa. They don't even know it's you. And I don't think anyone thinks highly of some poor fool shackled to a gaudy singer," you snorted. With the radio in tow, you began to pack your belongings into your purse.

"Don't be ridiculous," Alastor's laugh rumbled against the speakers. "My dear, being 'shackled' to you is the most delightful form of imprisonment."

"Such a sap," you scoffed, unable to suppress the smile that spread across your face. Shouldering your purse, you made your way towards the door, ready to leave. However, a sudden memory of a conversation with Mimzy surfaced.

"By the way, did you know Mimzy was planning to have me perform on some talk show?" you shared with Alastor while locking the door to your dressing room. A furrow appeared on your brow as the backstage lights played with shadows, casting a pensive expression on your face. "What was it again… Oh! Yes! Box-2-Nite."

A sudden screech from the radio erupted, its harsh sound reverberating in the hallway. Luckily, no one was around at this hour, and you cringed at the unexpected disturbance. Glaring at the box, you raised your brow. "You scared the living daylights outta me."

Alastor stayed silent for a while, claws digging into the cloth of his coat, ripping the fabric. With a snap of his head to the side, he dropped it to the floor and moved toward his staff, his shadows playing on the intricate patterns of the carpet beneath his feet.

"Do you perhaps mean… Vox-2-Nite?" His voice, usually smooth, carried an edge.

"Is that the name? I thought you hated telev—Oh. Ohhh..." As you ascended to the higher floors of the building, a realization swept over you.

Alastor's relationship with Vox was complicated. It didn't take a genius to see that. If the ceaseless back-and-forths on broadcasts, the turf wars that had casualties matching mass-extinction events, and the hushed gossip circulating among the other performers were anything to go by.

“Small world,” you chuckled, strolling down the hallway that led to the performers' rooms, the echo of your footsteps blending with the distant murmur of conversation. “I’m guessing I shouldn't take her up on the offer?”

"Absolutely not," Alastor practically snarled out, venom dripping from his tongue. The radio in your hand crackled and buffered, a faint golden glow emanating from the dials. "That pompous piece of shit television is nothing but a clout-chasing, mediocre host flitting between this fad and another on his little picture show podcasts."

“I know, love.” With a swift turn of a doorknob, you opened the door to your flat. "I wasn’t… planning… to…”

Your words trailed off, lingering in the air, as you entered the room. Your eyes widened in awe, captivated by the sight of a bouquet of white roses gracefully adorning your bed.

"Alastor," you spoke into the radio, your voice filled with genuine warmth. "Did you send me roses?"

Back in the hotel, Alastor, settled back into his plush couch. The fiery embers of his anger melting away like a fleeting shadow, replaced by the realization that you had discovered his gift.

A soft chuckle came from the radio, "Guilty as charged, cher. "

Your heart fluttered, and you sank onto the bed, dropping the radio on your mattress and taking the bouquet into your hands. The delicate petals felt soft against your fingers as you admired their beauty. White roses, unlike red ones, were so scarce it was difficult to get a hold of.

"Alastor, this is… wonderful," you spoke into the radio, smile so wide your cheeks almost hurt. "Why—How did you even—How did you even manage to find these?"

"Oh, I pulled a few strings," your husband grinned before chuckling, "and a few limbs too."

Your laughter intertwined with his and Alastor listened fondly, finding solace in the melody of your delight.

The day you inked that deal with Mimzy marked the onset of an agonizing pain he had never experienced before. The thought of leaving your sorrowful self under the wretched contract of that avaricious woman had incited a frenzied rage within him, leading to weeks of unbridled slaughters on the streets of hell.

The blood he spilled onto the sidewalks left a stain on the concrete that lasted months.

Fortunately for you and him, the ordeal was nearing its end. Just one more year remained until Alastor could finally reunite with you. After enduring decades of this agony, an additional year seemed like mercy.

"You like it, cher?" Alastor's voice dropped an octave lower, the satisfaction evident in his tone, pleased to bring happiness to your moment.

"Yes," you laugh, cradling the bouquet in your hands. "I like it very much."

˚୨୧₊♱

#calm before the #before the :)) #sephiewrites #hazbin hotel x reader #alastor x reader #hazbin hotel imagine #alastor imagine #hazbin imagine #hazbin hotel x you #alastor x you #hazbin x you #hazbin x reader #hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin hotel vox

[srjlvr]

꒦꒷ enhypen ! the moment when fans started shipping them with you <3

idol-ot7!enhypen x idol-fem!reader .. fluff .. no warnings<3 not proofread!!

ε ї з — heeseung

fans started to notice how heeseung kept stealing glances at you when you were busy interviewing them.

you, a new mc in a rookie group got all heeseung’s attention. you’re giggling? heeseung giggles too. you’re smiling? heeseung’s smiling too.

“how do you feel about your comeback?” you made an eye contact with heeseung and your heart skipped a beat. “um…” he was left speechless because of the short interaction you both had.

jungwon took the mic and giggled, speaking instead of the stressed heeseung and making a joke about heeseung being too tired to focus.

fans couldn’t ignore how heeseung kept looking at you with a smile all smeared over his face, as if he just now fell in love with you.

not even a day passed after the interview and all the fans would go crazy with videos and tweets about you two.

“have you seen the way he looked at y/n? i swear we were all just witnessing this man falling in love with her for the first time”

ε ї з — jay

one of the things that your fans loved the most was to watch your lives and ask you questions.

you decided to do one on valentines day and one of the most common questions was if you got something for valentines day when you were younger.

“if i got something for valentines day…?” you repeated the question, thinking about your school days, “i did actually! it was a flower bouquet and a few chocolates with a cute little note on the side” you giggled remembering the cute gift you got.

“jay from enhypen was my classmate back then” you added right after.

fans went feral, making up conspiracies about you and jay being classmates and jay being the one who got you the valentine gift.

he went on live at the same day and his whole live was filled with questions about you and valentines day. he just giggled and confirmed that you and him indeed were classmates, no mentions of the valentines day gift at all.

that didn’t stop the fans from shipping the both of you and videos from yours and his lives became trending.

“jay and y/n confirmed being classmates! y/n also spoke about getting a valentines day gift and right after that she mentioned jay! if you’re asking me, jay has been crushing on her for a while ;)”

ε ї з — jake

a new jake en-log was uploaded and fans rushed to view jake’s vlog. jake was so excited to film a new en-log episode so he filmed everything literally everywhere.

he made a small tour in his room. completely forgetting your signed album that was hanged on his wall.

it didn’t help at all when you also posted a vlog and behind your room wall was an enhypen album, signed by jake—even though it was far, fans could recognize his signature

you and him once met, and he brought you one of your albums to sign on it, and you brought him one of enhypen’s album for him to sign on it.

both of your fans went crazy with theories about the two of you dating and giving each other signed albums as gifts.

“did you see their albums just hanging there on their room wall? they’re fr a power couple😭 jake teach us ways to get y/n signature on one of her albums!!”

ε ї з — sunghoon

a rumor has been going around lately that you and sunghoon were chosen as the new ambassadors for a famous brand.

the rumor kept on going until a new photoshoot came out, and not-so-surprisingly, it was a new photoshoot of you and sunghoon together, presenting you as the new ambassadors for the brand.

you and sunghoon stood extremely close to each other, posing extremely close to each other as well. you had an interaction that fans has never seen before between a fem and a male idols.

a few days later the brand posted a short video of the behind the scenes, showing the both of you really close to each other with such a good interaction between you two.

fans went insane, making your photoshoot trending everywhere and talking about it all the time. especially shipping the both of you nonstop.

“have you seen y/n’s and sunghoon’s photoshoot?? I’M GOING CRAZY OVER HERE!! i’m thankful for that brand for making them the new ambassadors and we better get new photoshoot every month🙇‍♀️”

ε ї з — sunoo

interaction between idols on award shows isn’t something new so are the reactions to other groups.

sunoo is already known as the king of kpop, who knows all the trends and new kpop songs. to other fans it wasn’t new when he was cheering for you when it was your performance, to his fans it wasn’t the case.

sunoo himself got up and danced to your performance, he cheered and chant for you, it’s something they’ve never seen before, even his members looked surprised.

you also went down the stage and interacted with other idols, when you got to sunoo, both of you danced together and had the cutest interaction ever.

the other fans started to notice the cute interaction and agreed that this is something they’ve never seen before.

sunoo and you went trending as the new kpop queen and king without even trying to do so.

“did you see their interaction and how he cheered? YOU CANT TELL ME THEY’RE NOT DATING!!😭😭 HE’S SUCH A SUPPORTIVE BOYFRIEND”

ε ї з — jungwon

new MCs were introduced, aka you and jungwon. the fans weren’t expecting for much interaction between you two. they mostly thought it’d be so awkward between you two at start.

it wasn’t the case at all. the minute the camera started rolling, you and jungwon had the best interaction MCs has ever had.

both of you looked a bit more than comfortable around each other, making jokes and playfully pushing the other.

the idols you interviewed together looked shocked mostly from the way the you acted around each other, they could’ve swore you two are dating but hiding it.

even you were asked multiple times by your idol friends you interviewed if you and jungwon are dating. the both of you left the whole kpop community in shock.

you made fans wait impatiently every week to see new interactions of the both of you, you got the kpop community wrapped around your fingers. both of you even won as the couple of kpop in one of the award shows.

“did you see their new interaction today? I CANT WAIT FOR THE NEXT WEEK HONESTLY!! if they’re not dating then i don’t believe in love at all”

ε ї з — ni-ki

you wanted to get some coffee since you craved for some. you argued with your manager and told her you’d be careful enough to not get recognized and she let you off.

ni-ki at the same time lost in a rock paper scissor game and had to buy coffee to all the members.

you both happened to go to the same coffee place without even knowing.

he accidentally bumped into you and the both of you had a short interaction of a ‘sorry’ and ‘it’s okay, no worries’ type of thing.

the fans who recognized you from afar and were respectful enough to not bother you, took some pictures of your short interaction with ni-ki, which made his fans and your fans go wild.

they immediately started shipping you, thinking that you were on your way to have a date together and didn’t have much interaction because you both were in public.

“they won’t go to the same place for no reason!! they probably bought some coffee and went on a date in a more private place after that!! they look so cute!!😭😭”

••• copyright © srjlvr all rights are reserved.

PERM TAG-LIST ; @sungwhoonz @ohdudehesflirting @unlikelysublimekryptonite @deobiis @manooffline @miumiuoi @in-somnias-world @lovelovelovebts

#enhypen imagines #enhypen drabbles #enhypen reactions #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen headcanons #heeseung x reader #heeseung imagines #jay x reader #jay imagines #jake x reader #jake imagines #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon imagines #sunoo x reader #sunoo imagines #jungwon x reader #jungwon imagines #niki x reader #niki imagines

[kissitbttr]

nobody understands how you did it.

how you managed to swept him off his feet, breaking the walls he had built pieces by pieces, how the fuck did you get him to be comfortable with you? to be open with you? and only with you.

‘never seen him this happy or loose in a long time, lass. what’s your trick, eh?’ the captain pulls a joke, making the rest of the team laugh. ‘i think I speak for everyone when i say, he never brings a girl out. let alone introducing her to us.’

that one is true. years of being friends with ghost, the captain nor his closest friend ‘soap’ has ever seen him out on a date. they encouraged him though, since there have been so many women tried their ways to get close with the big guy, yet none of them succeed.

the masked men would often just shrug them off and give one hard cold answer. they would back away immediately

“guess i just have my ways” is what you always say. even soap couldn’t register how it happened. he couldn’t figure it out himself, he knows the lad way longer than you do.

they don’t believe you. because there is no way in hell that all you did was to bat your lashes, show him your adorable giggle and he was in. there’s gotta be more to it.

so what is it about you that draws him close? what is it about you that makes ghost’s eyes light up each time you step into the room? what is it about you that makes ghost’s heart skip a beat every time he talks to you?

certainly not because how you’re so patient in getting to know with him, right? not because how you trace his scars ever so lightly and call them pretty every single time he’s doubtful about himself. not because how you console him with ‘I’ve got you, baby’ each night a nightmare comes back to haunt him while rubbing his back soothingly. not because how you shower him with soft, gentle kisses to remind him that your love for him is bigger than anyone could have offered. not because how you understand why he can’t say the three letter words to you, just yet. still, you stick around.

definitely not, right? there’s no way. he’s simon ghost riley. no one or nothing could ever be good enough to make this man come out of his shell. it’s impossible, right? you’ll need a miracle for that.

“love?” you hear a voice calls, along with the sound of keys being tossed into a ceramic bowl. heavy boots thumping against the marble floor,

you step out of the kitchen. long hair tied up into a messy updo, clear frame glasses perched on the bridge of your nose. dressed in one of his favorite sleeping gown as your eyes locked with his brown ones. the balaclava still attached to mask his handsome face.

scarred lips stretch into a smile the moment his beautiful fiancé emerges from the kitchen.

he drops his bag onto the floor, pulling the mask off of him slowly. revealing his disheveled blond hair as he takes slow steps towards you.

“hi, baby” your voice brings him home. no soul could ever take away from him. he longs for that angelic tone each time he gets deployed. three or six months without listening to you speak to him is just insanity.

he’d rather lose his hearing entirely than not having to hear you at all.

he’s quick to embrace you in his arms. your face hiding in the crook of his neck, inhaling that signature scent of his that you had missed, dearly.

“what are you making?” he mumbles into the crown of your hair, giving it a peck before pulling away slightly to take a good look at you. “it smells good”

“your favorite” you kiss his chin, causing his cheeks to redden at the affection. “i even bought those lumpias down the 112th street. i know how much you love them. pretzels bites from the deli for snacks aaand, black pepper beef with rice for your dinner. sounds good?”

simon leans against the doorway as he watches you plate everything. rambling about everything. his smile widens even more at your domestic antics. the way you talk with your hands as you mention another annoying co-worker that keeps bugging you and the way you roll your eyes when a splash of gravy spill from the plate.

truly is a sight.

“why are you looking at me like that?” your lips raise into a curious smile, finger moving a dark lock that sticks into your forehead,

he gives you a small shrug. gaze not leaving you neither does his smile.

“you’re just so beautiful”

something so simple yet it makes your stomach fills with butterflies.

you chew on your lower lip to prevent you from smiling too much, but a hint of blush is dusting your cheeks betrays you.

“come, papi… don’t want the food to get cold now, do we?” you change the subject while you nod your head towards the empty seat across. “eat with me”

the two of you sit there while making a small talk. stealing glances every second. feeding each other’s food. soft laughs fall upon both of your mouths when one make a terrible joke.

something you’d see when two people are in love. c

so yes, the answer to that question. it is possible. because you made it possible. you made it possible for him to love again. even if he had to start all over. you made it possible for him to be vulnerable. you gave him a purpose the moment he thought things were looking bad for him.

he found a solace within your existence.

only you made it possible to bring the simon in him.

vbecause you. are his home

#simon riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley x female reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley

[tteokdoroki]

☆༉ — RYOMEN SUKUNA. a better man.

about. you’re a girl that’s way out of his league and he’s the bad boy you couldn’t help but fall for. what happens when ryomen sukuna fails to meet you in the middle?

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, suggestive towards the end, no curses!au, modern!au, it’s implied that sukuna is in a gang, mentions of fights, reader is a rich girl, they’re kinda in love :( bad boy!sukuna, fem!reader.

“you’re mad at me. aren’cha?”

sukuna mutters with an air of faux nonchalance as he lazily jogs up the final marble steps that lead up to the restaurant he was supposed to meet you at nearly two hours ago. the evening traffic zips by, red and white headlights parting through the rain to illuminate your boyfriend’s features. heavy water droplets take residence on the slope of his nose and Cupid’s bow, some even daring to cling on to the tips of dusty rose-coloured hair.

if you weren’t so angry right now, you might take a moment to appreciate how good sukuna looks in the moment — especially with the way the rain makes the designer tux you’d gotten for him cling to his skin. exposing every ridge and dip and curve in his muscle while his inky black tattoos become all the more visible.

“of course i’m mad.” you step aside to let sukuna under the shelter of the entrance, avoiding him as he swoops down for his usual hug and kiss. “tonight is important. it was important.”

“babe c’mon on, i was—“

“you were late. they’re serving dessert in there, ryomen.” your tone is coloured with shades of annoyance and a hint of warning. like a mother about to lecture her child. you’re pissed. it’s written all over your face too — in the way that your brows crease and you pout so adorably. he’ll try to play it off, like he doesn’t care, but it almost makes sukuna sick to his stomach to know that you’re angry with him.

the rain picks up outside of the restaurant and you continue. “all you had to do was show up on time. come to this stupid fancy restaurant and be there to meet my parents. but of course, you got yourself caught up in—“ you grab his dress shirt in frustration, noticing the blood on the collar that doesn’t belong to him. his split knuckles and the bruise on his lips. “— in whatever this is.” you roll your eyes, blood boiling.

“it’s nothin’ for you to worry your pretty little head about,” sukuna scoffs, lips spreading wide in his signature smirk. the excuse is lame, but he doesn’t want you to worry for him any longer. “since when did you care about what your parents think, anyways?” but you see it in his eyes, that same old worry. that he’s not good enough for you, that a scumbag like him doesn’t deserve a pretty girl like you. he’s always told you to find someone better, someone able to feed into the glitz and glamour that you were brought up in.

but you’ve always told ryomen sukuna that you have everything you need right there with him.

cupping his face, the heat of anger dispels from your body and you exhale deeply though your nose. “i don’t care about what my parents think. if i did, i wouldn’t be dating you.” you cast a thumb over the thick lines of ink decorating his face, accenting sukuna’s high cheekbones and chiselled features while the rest of your fingers sink into his smooth, dark undercut. “but that doesn’t mean i don’t want you to meet them. they’re just as special to me as you are. i want the most important people in my life to know each other.”

your boyfriend’s hands settle on your wrists as he grunts noncommittally, indicating that he’s aware of his wrong doings. if there’s one thing that sukuna hates, it’s upsetting you. he doesn’t care what the world thinks of him, it’s never mattered before. yet, even the slightest look of disappointment from you has the man in shambles. “‘m sorry,” he drawls, his grip on you shifting down to cup your waist — pulling you flush against him. “what can a guy like me do to make it up to you?”

“you can go on in there and charm the hell out of my rich, uptight parents so that we can hurry up and go home,” your voice lowers an octave as you stand on your tip toes for the extra height so that you can nip at the shell of sukuna’s ear. “where you can rip this dress off’a me.”

“such a dirty mouth for such’a prim ‘n proper girl, hm? i should wash it out with soap.” he purrs right back, leaning down to kiss at your neck until you’ve had enough of his frayed pink hair tickling your skin. he damn near melts when your fingers inch up to tug at his roots — earning a deep and thrilling growl from the man. “that was a dirty move. who taught you that?”

“my good for nothing boyfriend, he’s kind of a bad influence.” you tease back, despite having to physically push sukuna away in order to avoid setting off his inner beast before dinner with your parents is done — and instead, take to grabbing his larger hand in yours so you can lead him from the front of house to your family’s reserved table.

and like always, sukuna trails after you like a lost puppy enamoured with the person that found them, have them love and warmth. because, while you didn’t change him, you made him want to be better — to give up the knives in his back and the bullets looking over his head for something better. something softer.

something like you.

ryomen sukuna wanted to become the someone he thought you deserved.

that’s why he put on this stupid suit and tie, why he let you take his hand, why he follows you to the the table that’s sure to seal his fate with you.

behind all that rough exterior, is a man who loves you.

and in front of sukuna, is a girl who loves him and all of his flaws right back.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

#sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fluff #don’t look at me lawl #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna ryomen x you #✧ ₊˚੭ — writing #tteokdoroki #angelshubnetwork

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny may be a Ghost Baby who feels like an Anicent, but his friends don't.

SO, we all know the Ghost Baby Headcanon by now right? The idea that Danny is literally a Toddler by Ghost Standards, but because of how powerful he is everybody else believes that he is an Ancient or a God who is hogging the Mortal World to himself.

But what about his friends?

They were right there when the Portal opened. No Hazmat Suits, no Cover, no Protection from the Dimension of Pure Energy that had just been opened right in front of them.

That has to have some kind of Side Effects!

And actually, we do know of a Character who was just standing in front of a Portal when it opened and still got affected by it. Vlad.

While Danny was turned into a Halfa instantly, his friends would be more similar to Vlad in that they are slow to transform.

It takes weeks, but eventually they become mini-halfas themselves. Except they didn't have an entire Dimension of energy pushed into them upon fully forming, so their Ecto-Signatures actually feel like the babies they are supposed to be.

So imagine this from the Ghosts perspective.

They meet this guy called Phantom, a Halfa who is Extremely Powerful, but nobody has seen him in centuries. He was known as a very powerful Protector Spirit for millennia, randomly showing up across history, but always helping others. And then he just vanished one day, not seen again for centuries.

Until recently, when he showed in the Mortal World, stopping any other Ghost from fulfilling their Obsessions with Humans. And by his side are 2 smaller Halfa's that feel like they must have barely formed. You can see where this is going.

They think Sam and Tucker are Danny's children.

It makes sense! A Powerful Ancient, known for protecting people, suddenly disappears for centuries and then shows up again with 2 baby Halfa's in tow? That sounds like a Protector Spirit who lost his will to fight, decided to settled down in the Mortal Realm, and then found out that 2 baby Halfa's were formed when a Portal was opened!

He isn't selfishly holding the Mortal Realm to himself! He's protecting the Fledgling Haunt of his 2 Babies! They must still have living Family, that's why he is so adamant that they don't hurt the Civilains in their battles!

Now they just feel like assholes for attacking the Baby's dad when he was just trying to protect their stuff.

Danny finds this both extremely infuriating, and also agonizingly hilarious.

#Dp x dc #Dpxdc #Dc x dp #Dcxdp #Danny Phantom #Dc #Dcu #Baby Ghosts #Danny feels like an Ancient #Halfa Sam #Halfa Tucker #They must have been affected by the Portal in SOME way #Either they actually are Halfa's or they are just Liminals on the verge of metamorphosis into Ghosts #They are still Babies in both a Ghost and a Liminal perspective though #Danny is a Baby Ghost #They Ghosts feel bad now #(Also why does Phantom let his kids hang out with the Ghost Hunters son?) #(Not to he gossiping or anything but he seems like a bad influence) #When Ellie shows up they think Danny had a full on Ghost Baby instead of just Adopting like before #Danny finds this hilarious #He sets up playdates with Box Lunch #Much to Sam and Tucker's dismay #They do have fun though #Not that they'll admit it

[gremlingottoosilly]

Konig falling in love with an reader who works as a teacher in a daycare center, and for some reason she doesn't find him threatening and is actually very sweet to him.

(I'm going with dilf!Konig for this one) Konig and his adorable, precious boy who bites off head of his dino toys and bullies everyone who is trying to get close to him. Parents are threatening to withdraw their kids and sue the center, all children psychologists have already given up, and he changed nannies every week because no one could put up with the son of a guy who literally takes him to a shooting range while he can't even read yet. No one can put up with the son or his father...until you came in, of course. No one knows what it's about you - maybe it's the fact that you're not scared of the older guy; even Konig's signature cold stare isn't doing anything to you. You kinda look at the giant, older man like he is one of the kids you're taking care of - you're strict and soft at the same time, you explain to him carefully that his son clearly has all the signs of needing a bit more care and attention from his father - and, preferably, a professional. You were nothing but careful, and this is why you agreed to grab a coffee with him and Felix after the daycare center was done for the day. You usually don't invite yourself to such situations with kids and their parents, but you knew you had to intervene before something bad happened - and you can see that they both are lonely. Their interest in you was obvious too, and it almost made you blush. Almost. They were adorable in their right, and you really wanted to take more time and talk to them...this is how you ended up awakening some weird fucking dreams in Konig. He never liked kids - hell, he wasn't so thrilled about his own kid - but you somehow make him the best father he can be.

#cod #konig x reader #konig #cod x reader #dilf!konig

[daisynik7]

Pairing: Takuma Ino x f!reader

Rating: Explicit – MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Word Count: ~1.7k

cw: explicit language, mentions of a popular horror movie, smut – PIV sex (cowgirl position), nipple play, blow job, mask kink, slight degradation (slut, whore), use of pet names (cutie, sweetie, baby) 

Summary: You and your new boyfriend Ino decide to watch a horror movie together in honor of spooky season. Halfway through, he notices how skittish you are, making him want to play a silly prank on you with his signature ski mask. It’s all fun and games until he realizes that you actually like seeing him in this way more than he anticipated. 

Author’s Note: Happy October y'all! What can I say, I am VERY into Takuma Ino right now and I just had to get this out of my system. This is barely edited or proofread, sorry for any grammar mistakes or typos, I really was just letting my fingers fly through this in a moment of passion LOL. Likes, reblogs, and/or comments are always appreciated, thank you for reading! MDNI banner by @/cafekitsune. 

You turn off all the lights, the only source of illumination coming from the TV screen, paused at the very start of the movie you decided to watch tonight. With a big bowl of freshly popped kernels in your grasp, you huddle beside your boyfriend, Ino, on the couch, covering both your legs with a fleece blanket. He wraps his arm around you, pulling you in closer, reaching to grab a handful of popcorn to stuff inside his mouth. “Ready?” he muffles, pointing the remote to the screen, finger pressed to the center button. 

Nuzzling your head against him, you answer. “Yup!”

It’s apparently one of those cult classic horror flicks according to Ino, who recommended it when you mentioned how you wanted to watch something scary for October. He’s seen it before, many times in fact, but he insists that you watch it. He has no clue how frightened you get over the silliest things, so tonight will be a treat for the both of you. 

The opening scene plays out: a beautiful blonde picks up the phone and the conversation ends quickly short because it’s the wrong number. Normal so far, good. It rings again, but now the caller seems interested in talking. Do you like scary movies? Do you have a boyfriend? The man’s voice gives you the creeps, and you find yourself shuddering from it, cuddling closer to Ino, who glances at you with a smirk on his face. 

You never told me your name.

Why do you want to know my name?

Because I want to know who I’m looking at.

This line gives you goosebumps and you lift the blankets up to hide behind it. “Ew, creepy!” Ino only laughs, throwing a few more pieces of popcorn into his mouth. 

It escalates from here, getting increasingly chaotic and violent. By the time you’re halfway into the film, the bowl is down to its last kernels and you’re crouched in Ino’s lap, peeking through your fingers. He pauses the movie after one particularly brutal kill. “Snack break! I’m going to make some more popcorn and go pee.”

“You’re leaving?!” you whine, clinging on to him as he tries to get up.

He chuckles. “Babe! It’s just a movie. I’ll be right back, okay?” He kisses you on the forehead, heading into the kitchen, leaving you alone in the living room. 

Of course it’s just a movie, but you can’t help feeling creeped out in the dark like this. You reach for one of the nightstands, turning on the lamp. You hear the drone of the microwave, and after a minute or so, the distinct sound of popping. Eventually, it comes to a stop, and the entire house is eerily quiet. You’re tempted to call out for Ino, wondering where he is, but you remember that he had to use the bathroom. 

Suddenly, a shadowy figure appears right behind on you on the couch, grabbing your shoulders and shouting gibberish at you. You scream bloody murder, ready to punch him and run away when Ino lifts his ski mask up to reveal himself, tears streaming down his face, cracking up at you. 

“Ino!” you yell at him, slapping his hands away from you. “You fucking asshole!”

He doubles over, cackling, wiping his eyes. It takes a good while for him to regain his composure as you glare at him, arms crossed over your chest. “I’m sorry, baby. I just couldn’t resist.” He sits beside you, stretching his arms out for a hug. “You have to admit, that was fucking hilarious.”

You shake your head, refusing. “You’re such a dick.”

“Oh, come on! It was just a little prank. Now you’ll be way more prepared for the rest of the movie!” He pulls the mask over his face again, everything covered except the holes for his eyes. “See? Not so scary anymore, right?”

You inspect him carefully, still pouting, not saying a word.

“I’m sorry, sweetie. Truly. I promise not to scare you again.” He scoots towards you, nudging you in the arm. 

You roll your eyes at him, relaxing. “Fine.”

“Can I get a kiss now?” 

He tries to lift his mask up, but you stop him, pulling it back down. “I don’t want to see your face right now. I’m still annoyed, you know.”

“Aw man! Really?”

You hoist it just past his nose, leaning in to give him a soft kiss on the lips. When you break apart, he smirks at you. “You like this, don’t you? Seeing me with my mask on.”

You shrug, a sly grin on your face, neither confirming nor denying his accusation. Sure, you were a bit upset at first, when he scared the shit out of you. But seeing his face covered like that may have sparked a desire in you that you never knew you had, until now. 

“Oh my god! You do, you do!” he exclaims, shaking your arm. “My cutie has a mask kink!”

“Shut up, asshole!” you yell at him, pretending to shove him off, smiling. 

“You’re a fucking freak!” he giggles, pouncing on you. He starts tickling you along your ribcage, causing you to squirm beneath him as he straddles you, trapping you between his legs. His fingers flutter under your arms, stroking your sensitive skin.

“Ino!” you cry out, laughing from the sensation. 

You can feel his cock growing hard in his pants, balls heavy on your stomach. Suddenly, he stops, mask still folded to expose his lips, leaning down to kiss you sloppily. He pins your hands above your head, locking his fingers with yours. He slips inside your mouth, grazing your tongue with his, hungry for your saliva. “Fuck,” he moans into you, nipping at your bottom lip. “You like this freaky shit, don’t you? Nasty slut.” His playful tone is laden with lust now, low and sultry, mouth brushing along your neck, sucking at your pulse points to mark you. 

You whine his name, wrapping your legs around his waist, grinding yourself against him. 

“Look at you, getting so fucking dumb all because of my mask,” he purrs. “What else turns you on, cutie? Tell me.”

Without thinking, you blurt out, “Spit. Your spit. I want it.”

“Oh shit,” he swears, licking his mouth. He traces the outline of your lips, beckoning you to open up, dribbling a thick wad of saliva inside you. You gulp it down, sticking your tongue out for more. 

“Oh fuck, you’re nasty,” he says, doing it again. “Makes me so fucking horny seeing you like this. Seeing my cutie act like a fucking whore.” He slips beneath your shirt, fondling your bare breasts, flicking your peaked nipples with his thumbs. 

“Fuck, Ino,” you whisper, pussy throbbing in your panties, arousal leaking through the fabric. 

“You like it when I play with your tits, huh?” Like it when I pinch them hard like this.” He squeezes them between his thumb and index finger, enough pressure to stimulate you, making you moan his name again and again.

He swears under his breath, shoving his pants down his legs, shimmying out of them until he’s only in his underwear now, erection stiff in his boxers. “You gonna suck my cock now or what, slut?” 

You nod, kneeling in front of him, knees on the carpet, spreading his thighs apart. He lifts his ass off the couch to slide out of his boxers, letting them fall around his ankles. You kiss the tip of his dick, smearing his precum around your lips like gloss before swallowing him into your mouth. 

He lets out a drawn out, “Fuck,” watching you with wide eyes as you bob up and down his shaft. Voice shaky, he asks, “Can I put my hands on you?”

Something about him in this ski mask makes you want to be submissive, makes you want to be used. You grab both his hands, guiding them towards the sides of your head, giving him free rein to manhandle you.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, gripping you tighter, gradually thrusting his hips in tandem with you. His cockhead hits the back of your throat, teasing your gag reflex, but you resist, tears collecting in the corners of your eyes, enduring it. 

Noticing you, he pulls out, a string of spit between you. “Baby, baby. Please don’t force yourself. I don’t want to hurt you.” He reaches to his side, grabbing a tissue from the table beside the couch, wiping away the spit around your mouth and the tears in your eyes. “Come here, cutie. I want to make you feel good too.”

You strip out of your bottoms, straddling his lap, pussy wet and aching against him. He moans as you rock back and forth on his shaft, pressing his thumb to your clit, massaging it. “There we go. Now we both can feel good, yeah?”

After a few more strokes, you beg him to fuck you, lifting up to guide his cock inside you slowly, sinking down on him until he bottoms out. You bounce on him, his hands gripped to your waist, guiding you, moaning your name between expletives. 

As you approach your orgasm, you pull up his mask, placing it on his head as he usually wears it. He smiles brightly at you, nuzzling his nose to yours. “There’s my pretty girl. Can you come for me now? Come all over this cock?”

You kiss him passionately, arms wrapped around his neck as he thrusts into you, hands squeezed on your ass now. You reach your climax, moaning into his mouth. He comes with you, shooting his load deep into your womb, filling you up with his cream pie. The two of you continue to kiss slowly, catching your breaths. He caresses your back while you melt into his embrace. 

“We need to establish a safe word,” he suggests, cradling you in his arms. “I want to make sure I’m not hurting you.”

You hum into his skin, saying the first thing that comes to mind. “Popcorn."

He chuckles, stroking the back of your neck gently. “Alright. Popcorn it is.” A beat later, he exclaims, “Popcorn! I totally forgot about the popcorn!”

You laugh, giving your boyfriend a wet smooch on the cheek.

#takuma ino #ino takuma #takuma ino x reader #takuma ino smut #ino takuma smut #ino takuma x reader #takuma ino x you #ino takuma x you #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader

[kleftiko]

❦ CAN’T GIVE IT TO ME

“your best friend has always been the person you turn to when times are tough. so when your shitty husband refuses to give you a baby, what else are you supposed to do?”

cw: infidelity, unprotected sex, cream pie, breeding kink, pussy eating, squirting

KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

It was never a surprise when you made a stupid decision.

Sometimes, people thought you were purposely being an airhead, not paying attention, or being reckless in your life because Satoru was always there to fix things for you. It didn't stop him from letting you know his thoughts on your actions, but he was always there when you called.

When you married your husband, Satoru told you he didn't like him. Didn't think you married for a good reason, either.

Did you love your husband? Maybe. Maybe not. But you liked the freedom he gave you—credit cards and a house to yourself most days—while he was constantly away on business trips. You could spend your days spoiling your girlfriends on a shopping spree and your nights in expensive clubs.

You don't know when you began feeling lonely and bored, though. But one day, you started noticing mothers with their kids. playing in the park, shopping at the grocery store, and taking photos on vacation, and you began to think that maybe you wanted something else in life besides waking up hungover to an empty bed.

So when your husband got home that evening, tired and immediately pouring himself a drink, you proposed the idea. The look he gave you said it all, but he still told you no. He was a busy man; he didn't have time for a family, and you should know that.

It's not like he ever fucked you anyway; for most of your marriage, your orgasms and libido were taken care of by vibrators, dildos, and your best friend.

Which is why when your husband left the next day, you called over Satoru.

He never had to try to look good, showing up with a plain shirt, sweatpants, and those signature glasses. You, on the other hand, changed three times before he arrived, not being able to decide which outfit was going to help you get what you wanted. The formal dress was too much for daytime, the skirt was a bit too juvenile, and eventually you just decided on shorts and a tank top, loungewear that to anyone else would look like you were just having a day in, but the way the short fabric loosely covered your ass told a different story.

Satoru accepted the glass of red wine you offered when he walked in the door and took a seat at the kitchen table, spreading his legs casually as he took a sip.

"I want a baby." You told him straight up.

Satoru smiled as he looked at you over his glasses and said, "Nice. Congrats."

"With you," you clarified. He raised an eyebrow.

"Seems like something you should ask your husband," he said, nimble fingers playing with the neck of his wine. "I'm just here for the drinks."

You pouted, taking a seat in the chair beside him.

"Please, 'Toru?" you asked.

His eyes drifted down to your fingers as they trailed lightly over his thigh, knowing exactly what you were trying to do.

"And why would I help you?" He smiled lazily.

You got up and straddled his lap, setting down his glass of wine in favour of moving his arms around your body.

"You've helped me before." You whisper, and he nods casually, as if that was a good point.

You couldn't count the number of times Satoru let you use his fingers or sit on his face when you were needy. Or how many times you repaid him with your lips around his dick or riding his thigh. But no matter how many times he made you cum, he never gave in to your pleas to stretch your pussy on his thick cock. He refused to, as long as you were married. Was it right? Probably not, but Satoru had his rules.

And you've never minded the mind-numbing pleasure he would give you with his hands and mouth until now. Because now, what you wanted required something else of his that was previously off limits.

"I've helped you a lot of times, sweetheart." He sighed in defeat. "And you always ask for more."

You were confused, not understanding the meaning of his words until his fingers slid between your legs. With a soft gasp, you instinctively start grinding yourself onto his palm, forgetting what he was saying.

"I'm at your beck and call when you need my fingers or tongue," he said, letting you continue your ministrations. "And now you're asking me to fill your cunt and expect me to be okay with our kid calling your husband 'dad'?"

With a harsh press to your clit, you freeze, and a small whine escapes from your lips.

"You think that's fair, sweetheart?" He asked, eyeing you with contempt.

But instead of answering, you try to move your hips against his hand again for friction, only to get a harsh pinch to your thigh.

You yelped, but answered him. "No, it's not."

He seemed happy with your response and said, "What's in it for me?"

You furrowed your brows. In all the years you've known Satoru, he had never asked for anything in return; he always gives, gives, gives. There honestly wasn't any answer you could come up with. But when his long fingers started circling your heat again, making you melt, you asked.

"What do you want, 'Toru?"

He grinned at how easy you were and let you rest your head on his shoulder in response to his fingers. "Say you'll leave your husband, and I'll fill you up as much as you want."

You whined in response, but with your body rocking against his, breathing in his cologne, and hearing his husky voice in your ears, it didn't seem like a bad idea. So you nodded, light gasps dusting over his neck as you breathed out, "Okay."

Satoru's strong hands then left your pussy, but you didn't have a chance to complain when he grabbed the back of your thighs and stood up. When your head leaned back to look at him, you saw a dangerous look in his eyes.

"Good girl." His voice was low as he said, "Let's make you a mommy."

With that, he dropped you onto the table, the wine glasses shaking beside you as a result. Satoru dropped to his knees between your spread legs and reached for your shorts. Already wet with your slick, they stuck to your heat slightly as he slid them off, and you hissed at the feeling of the cool kitchen air against your pussy.

His breath grazed your thigh as he licked a harsh strip up your slit. Your body trembled as his tongue traced its way up, sending shivers of anticipation through your entire being. The dangerous look in his eyes intensified, fueling your desire for him. You couldn't help but arch your back, offering yourself fully to his skilled touch. As his tongue continued its tantalizing journey, your moans grew louder, matching the rhythm of his movements. The intensity of him led you to grasp at his soft silver hair in an attempt to ground yourself, but he smacked your hand away.

"You're gonna feel everything I give you." His sunglasses were discarded, so you saw every emotion in his darkened eyes. "And you're gonna take it."

After you nodded quickly, Satoru wrapped his arms around your thighs, locking your cunt against his tongue as he devoured you. His careful mouth probed every inch of your sensitive folds, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. The way he smoothly flicked and sucked on your clit had you on the edge of ecstasy, unable to control the moans that escaped your lips. As his tongue delved deeper, you surrendered completely to the overwhelming sensations, losing yourself in the intoxicating bliss he was giving you.

In an attempt to warn him, you could only stutter out an, "g-g'nna."

But Satoru seemed to understand as his lips attached themselves to your bud, and one of his arms freed your legs so he could thrust his fingers inside your sloppy cunt. The combination of his skilled tongue and the added penetration sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body. Each thrust of his fingers matched the rhythm of his tongue, intensifying the pleasure and pushing you closer to the edge. As you reached the peak of ecstasy, your body convulsed uncontrollably, overwhelmed by the mind-blowing sensations he was delivering. You briefly understood your legs spamming as you painted Satoru's mouth with your cum.

It took a moment for you to calm down, your eyes opening to look at the ceiling as you realized your back was on the table. Unable to remember when you had laid down, let alone move your body on your own, Satoru pulled you to stand on your jelly legs.

His eyes held your gaze as he wiped his face and licked his lips clear of your cum. Before you could say anything, he gripped your hips, his wet hands sending shivers up your hot skin as he turned you around and pushed your stomach onto the table.

You looked over your shoulder at your best friend; his head was tilted back, eyes closed as he hissed in pleasure, the hand covered in your slick stroking his hard cock. The reminder of the fact that his dick was finally going to be inside you made you whine and wiggle your hips to gain his attention again.

Satoru looked down at you with a smile.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I'm right here." He lined himself up with your hole. "I'll fuck a baby into you," he whispered before slowly pushing himself inside you.

The sensation of him filling you up sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, making you moan and bend your back in response.

"T-'Toru..." You drawled, unable to think of anything else, as he stretched you open.

"That's it, baby, remember who's gonna breed this cunt for you." He hissed.

Your mind became consumed with the overwhelming pleasure as Satoru continued to thrust deeper into you. Every movement he made intensified the sensations, leaving you completely lost in the moment. The sounds of his grunts harmonizing with skin slapping against skin filled the room, adding to the urgency of the experience.

Your eyes locked on one of the wine glasses beside you. The table rocking with Satoru's harsh thrusts caused the silverware to fall over, staining the beautiful tablecloth beneath your face. You don't know why, but the physical reminder of how hard Satoru was going inside you made you moan. The combination of the sensory overload and the unexpected disruption heightened the raw passion between you and Satoru. As your moans echoed in the room, you realized that every element of this encounter was pushing you both towards an adrenaline-filled climax.

"Sa-Satoru—please!" You babbled incoherently as he slapped against you, his fingers digging into the fat of your hips.

"Fuck!" He groaned. "You're gonna look so hot pregnant with my baby."

Your pleas only fueled Satoru's desire, intensifying his thrusts as he whispered dirty promises about knocking you up in your ear. The intense connection between you both grew, driving you closer to the edge of ecstasy. With each moment, it became clear that this intimate encounter would forever be etched in not only your memory but also your life. And it turned you on so much more.

"You gonna great your husband today with your pussy filled with my cum?" You whined at his dirty talk. "S'it gonna drip down your legs when you tell him it's over?"

You don't know why, but the reminder of the fact that Satoru wasn't your husband was what did it for you. You came to the realization that it wasn't your husband fucking a baby into you, but your best friend. This forbidden affair intensified the pleasure and excitement coursing through your veins, causing you to clench impossibly tighter around Satoru's cock.

He groaned loudly at that, folding his body over yours as he reached his own orgasm.

"You're all mine now, sweetheart." He whispered into your ear as his cum shot into your cunt, filling you up better than you could've hoped for. The intensity of the moment left you breathless as you lay there, sweat clinging to your forehead as the scent of wine and sex filled your senses. You whimpered pathetically when Satoru slipped out of you and crouched down to watch the globs of his cum drip out of your pussy with each clench around nothing. Your trembling legs couldn't stop him when he scooped up the slick and pushed it back into you with a dissatisfied hum.

"Don't think it stuck, sweetheart." He sighed. "Might need to fill you again."

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