#lol he looks like a snot

[forevermorehouseofhope]

Astarion gets the biggest puppy eyes when Raphael mentions Astarions scars, and it kills me

#I can't get over just look at himm #I looked at this picture and I realise that it looks like he got snot. but I forgive him lol #bg3 #astarion #baldurs gate 3

[azlrse]

➳ unintentionally (a boothill x gn!spouse!reader oneshot)

cw: major angst w/ open ending, reader has a bruise (unintentionally) from their ranger husband, accidental slap (also unintentional), established relationship, married au, lots of apologies and crying present here, ooc boothill (first time writing for him)

a/n: alright, as soon as i saw boothill for the first time, I was like "bet lemme write something for him". he's gonna be ooc cause 1. i didn't play the game yet (cries incompatible tablet) and 2. i am still learning the roots of this game's lore (and him once he's released) lol

!! fic contains sensitive topic, steer clear if this fic ain't your piece of cake !!

"darlin'?" a voice called out in the side of the storage room. "please come out, i-i didn't mean to hit you and im really sorry.." your husband called out for you softly to avoid scaring you further. his constant knocking and coercing you to come out lasted for 5 minutes, making you curl up further within the corner of the walls. "leave me alone.." you meekly spoke, voice still hoarse from your earlier cries as you held your bruised, swollen face.

his constant knocking just faded away as you sobbed, using your free hand to wipe away your snot and tears dripping from your face. if you just steer clear from him and not pestering him because of his anger, you wouldn't be hit and to be screamed by boothil to just leave him alone. you knew that your husband is like a dynamite, ready to explode at any moment due to his occupation. boothill assures you that he will never lay a hand on you, even when the both of you are either arguing or disagreeing over something that's simple and stupid.

but this day, he broke that one promise that kept you safe since the day he asked you out. just because of his anger towards that one outlaw who's on the run for weeks. almost captured but alas, his luck ran out once again as the prisoner kept on taunting him that he will never be caught by him.

boothill, on the other side of the door, won't give up as he waits for you to open the door and letting him treat your bruised lip and swollen cheek. he knows that it's not an excuse for him to let out such anger towards his spouse. guilt kept on creeping through his system, hearing you sobbing telling him to just leave you alone. "im sorry, sugar.." he sadly spoke, reluctantly returning to the sleeping quarters that the both of you shared.

at around 4:30 am, he quietly opens the door of the storage room and looks around to see if you are sleeping soundly; tear stains on your face, a bruised and swollen cheek, and using a rolled towel as your pillow. his heart shattered what he has done to you and knew that he doesn't deserve your forgiveness. he feared that there will be a day that you would leave him all by himself, all because of how he acted towards his own emotions and anger.

boothil scooped you into his arms as your head leaned towards his warm body. he knew that you liked it when you huddled close towards his chest as he placed a chaste kiss on your head. placing you on the shared bed, he cleans your bruises and places an ice pack on the side of you. he stared at your sleeping face for sometime before he murmurs soft apologies to you, even promising that he will never do again.

the soft light from the curtains woke you up from your sleeping slumber after the ordeal last night. 'strange..' you thought to yourself as you saw the ceiling of the bedroom you shared with your husband, not the plain white ceiling from the storage room where you seek safety during your husband's anger episode. you placed a hand on your bruised cheek and felt a small gauze on top of it and a bit of cold from the ice pack he placed on the side of your face last night.

you tried to get off the bed but felt a robotic arm wrapped around your waist. "no, no..." boothill softly murmurs. "five more minutes sugar, needin' you here right now.." a wave of anxiousness just came rushing towards you as you saw your husband on the bed with you, snuggling as he finally woke up from his sleep; his cropped jacket is gone and only had a pair of short as his sleeping attire, his hair smells like newly lit cigarettes from his trip to the saloon yesterday.

if you aren't anxious, you would be flustered of his appearance.

"mornin' sugar.." he softly spoke as he leans in to give you a kiss. afraid, you quickly jumped off the bed and quickly make a beeline for the storage room once again. "w-wait!" his quick reflexes caught your arm. "don't leave me, let's talk it here my love. I know what I did is unacceptable and I'm really sorry for hitting you." Silence looms within the bedroom as you eyes avoided his. "Please.." He pleaded, his eyes soften as guilt crept on his back.

it's up to you to decide of you should stay for him or choosing your own peace...

a/n: not my best work but hopefully you guys liked my take on boothill (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)♡

Do not republish, edit, or repost to other websites. Reblogs and likes are appreciated! 💕

#cw slight violence #cw angst #hsr x reader #hsr x you #hsr x gender neutral reader #hsr boothill #honkai star rail #hsr angst #boothill x reader #boothill #boothill x you #boothill angst

[usagikookiejams]

BEING AWAY FROM THEM FOR SOME WEEKS

Shiba Taiju, Sano Shinichiro, Haitani Ran

⚠️WARNING: Curse words, mentions of kill (no actual killing tho in this hc), 'crazy' behavior lol

SHIBA TAIJU

"When are you coming back, baby?," the guy on the other line inquired. "Can you like stop asking me same question for the past 2 weeks already?," you tsked. "Brat, I'm just asking ya know," you could feel him rolling his eyes by the tone of his voice. "Hehe sorry love, I promise I will come back ASAP once my event is done here. Mwah, TTYL!," you hung up. Fast forward, you came back to Japan after 4 days since the call. You arrived at Taiju's house a.k.a Black Dragon's HQ where you could see most of his subordinates were bandaged up. "What the...," your thoughts were interrupted upon hearing some yelling, HIS yell to be exact. You entered the house to witness Taiju beating up his subordinate with a baseball bat. "Care to explain?," you inquired which led to Taiju stopping his action, and the subordinate repeatedly bow at you while saying thank you. Kokonoi came into the frame while laughing, "He got WILD when you were not by his side, so he released the pent up stress towards these guys." Taiju let go of the bat and walked towards you, "Tch! They are lucky that you are here already. If not, I swear I could go rampage and kill half of these useless guys." You looked at him dead in the eyes while shaking your head, "You maniac, how do I even like you in the first place." Taiju just shrugged and took you to ride on his motorcycle while enjoying your presence again.

SANO SHINICHIRO

You were watering the plant in your parents' garden when suddenly your phone started ringing. You went to retrieve them before greeting the other person on the line, "Hello babe!." You could hear rustling which may indicates that the person was still in bed. "Hey darling, I miss you so much! Can you come home by today? Ahhh I literally haven't eaten properly since you left," which continued by the sounds of Emma's nag telling him to get his ass off the bed and go to work already. You could hear a loud 'hey gimme back!' before Shinichiro's voice was replaced with Emma's on the other line, "Hey Y/N, when are you coming back? This lazybum has been off his job for 3 weeks now, reasoning that he doesn't have enough energy to work. Ugh I really hate to tell you this but can you please please PLEASE come back ASAP. Istg he has been losing a lot of weight already ugh!." You talked with them for some minutes more before having to hang up. You felt guilty and tried to talk about it with your parents, in which they agreed that you should go back home to Shinichiro as your mom has been getting better from her sickness. Thus, the next day, you arrived at Tokyo. You didn't tell Shinichiro about your plan so upon seeing your face by the main door, Shinichiro dropped to his knees to hug your legs tightly while crying like a baby. "Please don't leave me ever again! If you need to go to your hometown, bring me with you so that we will not be separated huwaaa 😭😭," he messily crying, ruining your pants with his tears and snots. You just laughed at his behavior but still agreeing to his suggestion. "Ahh, this man is gonna be the death of me lol," you monologued in your head.

HAITANI RAN

You wouldn't lie that leaving this house in the hands of Ran's is really.... unnerving. This man literally loves to cause trouble at home, which most of the time leading you to feel like dying is a better option. Why is that? Cuz this man lovessSSS to pull 'harmless' pranks that drive you crazy, like right now; "Babeee, do you think the fish in the fish tank could survive if I put a sprinkleee of chilli flakes in the water?," Ran showed you the fish tank via the facetime. "Don't you dare Ran! That is MY fish so don't do this crazy shit unless you don't want me coming home again," you threatened him. "Hmmm...," he walked closer to the tank while shaking what seems like the small container of the chilli flakes you frequently use. "AHHH! ISTG DON'T!!," you screamed at him while saying profanity words. "HAHAHAHHA!!," you could see his camera shaking from his laugh, he later on flipped the camera to front facing him. "Dumbass babygirl, I would never do bad shit like that to animals you know 😔. Though I kill people on a daily basis. What kind of a maniac do you think I am? ☹️," he jutted his lower lip faking sadness. You glared at him through the screen while 'promising' that you are going to beat his ass once you come back. In the end, that promise was fulfilled by you beating his back with the frying pan he bought you on your birthday <3

#tokyo rev x reader #tokyo revengers #tokyo rev headcanons #tokyo rev x y/n #tokyo revengers x reader #ran haitani #ran haitani x reader #tokyo rev x you #tokyo revengers x you #ran haitani headcanons #tokrev #tokrev x you #tokrev x y/n #tokrev x reader #taiju x y/n #taiju shiba x reader #taiju shiba #taiju x reader #shinichiro sano #shinichiro x reader #tokrev shinichiro #ran haitani x you #ran headcanons #ran haitani x y/n #ran x reader #ran x you #ran x y/n #taiju headcanons #tokyo revengers taiju #taiju x you

[atsumulogy]

WHO’S DADDY? PRANK WITH YOUR DAUGHTER. FEAT. DAD!ATSUMU

synopsis: dad!atsumu and uncle!osamu play a little harmless prank on yours and atsumu’s daughter, aki, what could go wrong? right?

featuring: dad!miya atsumu x AFAB! reader. miya osamu, hinata shoyo, sakusa kiyoomi, & bokuto koutaro.

cw: kids, mentions of pregnancy and labor, kids crying? um … yeah that’s all i think. LOL and maybe grammar errors

naia’s footnote: dad!atsumu fluff to make up for my last atsumu angst <3 this is an edited version of the one i posted in my old blog.

Soft coo’s and aww’s filled the room, as cute baby twins were laying in the crib together, looking at the people that surrounded them in curiosity as the two of them tilted their little heads in unison, consequently eliciting another batch of coo’s and aww’s from the people in the room.

“Aren't they just the cutest?” Atsumu gushed over the children that you two created, and you swore you heard him giggle like a school girl in love.

He’s beaming, pride blooming from his chest seeing the small features they inherited from him and, most importantly, you. You, who struggled every day during pregnancy with your morning sickness. You, who had to endure the pain of labor just so you could give him the privilege of loving two more new people for the rest of his life.

Osamu nods in agreement as he caresses his nephew's cheek with his knuckles, smiling at how he reminds him so much of his brother.

“Atsumu-san, what if you two do that thing where you and Osamu-san confuse one of the twins on who’s their dad?” Hinata excitedly suggested, jumping a little in his place while he looks at the twins, recalling a video on YouTube that went viral.

“Don’t plant any ideas in his head, Hinata.” Sakusa starts telling Hinata off before getting caught off guard by Bokuto backing up Hinata’s suggestion.

“Noo do it! I saw a video like that once on Twitter and it was so adorable and funny. C’mon, what’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“Mm, I mean, Bokkun’s right — what’s the worst thing that could happen, right?” Both Atsumu and Osamu agreed — but mostly Atsumu, curious about what would happen. While Osamu on the other hand, was dragged into the scheme.

“Come to Daddy, baby.” Osamu tries to mimic his brother’s voice, making you and the others snicker, while Atsumu scoffs in offense before rolling his eyes at his brother.

Aki, being the daddy’s girl that she is, did not hesitate to raise her arms out to Osamu after hearing what seemed to be her “daddy’s” voice, making Atsumu, once again, dramatically scoff and huff in slight offense and disbelief at his daughter’s betrayal.

“Daddy?” She tilted her head at Osamu. She looked at him with doe eyes as she furrowed her eyebrows, curious about her “daddy’s” new hair color. Lowkey making Atsumu jealous because he wasn’t the one that she was calling daddy.

“Noo baby, Aki, come here, I’m daddy.” She turned her head towards Atsumu, confused at how there were two daddies now.

Looking at Osamu again, and at Atsumu who had his arms out for her to reach for, was far too overwhelming for her and her little head to fully comprehend why there were two daddies at the same time.

And before you all know it, your baby girl was crying — fat tears running down her chubby cheeks as her lips wobbled in distress.

(And alas, curiosity killed the cat.)

“I told you,” Sakusa mutters.

“Oh shit,” Atsumu curses as Osamu cringes at the baby in his arms that was now crying with her snot and tears all over him. Both of them feeling awful that they made Aki cry, remorse setting in.

Aito, Aki’s little brother, heard his sister’s wails. And as if sensing that she was in distress, started crying too, as he empathized with whatever his sister was crying about.

“Aww, sweetheart,” you coo’d, taking him from the crib as you cradled him in your arms, rocking him back and forth, trying to ease his cries. Which, fortunately, worked as his cries died down soon after.

“I want my daddy.” Aki demanded in tears, and Atsumu was fast to grant his little girl her wish, hastily taking her from Osamu’s hold. His dad's instincts flipped a switch inside him that he didn’t know he even had.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, Daddy’s here now. Were you scared? Hm?” He slightly rocks her, whispering more apologies as he starts drying her salty tears with his free hand.

“Daddy is sorry, I’m here baby.” He assures her, making her nod her head and follow his soothing voice as she automatically wraps her little arms around his neck.

“Wow, I've never seen Atsumu-san look so distraught before, let alone this soft and gentle.” Hinata comments after he and Bokuto both apologized to you for bringing the idea up.

“I admit, Miya’s a lot more tolerable — I guess — when he's with his kids.” Sakusa hummed in agreement with Hinata, looking at Atsumu with a now merry Aki in his arms while they both beamed at each other.

As you looked at the baby boy in your arms, sleeping peacefully, and at the sight before you, you smiled. Despite the little mishap that happened just a minute ago, you were happy. You were in a state of content and tranquillity — secretly, you concluded to yourself that you wouldn’t trade these moments for anything in this world.

© ATSUMULOGY. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. ANY FORM OF PLAGIARISM AND REPOSTING OF ANY OF MY CONTENT IS PROHIBITED AND WILL NOT BE TOLERATED.

#haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu drabbles #miya atsumu x reader #atsumu x reader #atsumu fluff #osamu x reader #osamu fluff #hinata x reader #hinata fluff #sakusa x reader #sakusa fluff #bokuto x reader #bokuto fluff #haikyuu x you #atsumu x you #hq fluff

[chryblossomjjk]

imagine | jjk 

⇢ PAIRING: model!jk x reader

⇢ RATING/GENRE: m/18+ | established relationship, smut, fluff

⇢ WC: 7.5k

⇢ WARNINGS: literally everything don’t read this lol. dom jk, bratty sub reader, mentions of relationship issues, alcohol use, degrading, titty sucking, spanking, gentle face smacking w hand and penis, rough sex turned to luv making, fingering, blowjob, face fucking, spitting, brief pussy eating and (here’s the kicker) ass licking, multiple orgasms, unprotected sex (don’t u dare), creampie, snot play (kidding ew kook just wipes reader’s nose they’re in love shh), hotel bathroom sex lets goooo! jk is mean but loves reader so so much, sappy and corny at points

⇢ SUMMARY: jungkook wants nothing more than to spend your anniversary cuddled up in a fancy hotel bathroom, eating takeout and binge watching tv shows. you, on the other hand, have something more exciting in mind. 

⇢ NOTES: this is my first time writing fanfic so please be gentle with me. i know the smut is not the best. i really struggled with it, definitely not a natural when it comes to writing sexi time. i kinda love every other part of this BUT the smut which sucks because it's like… 70% smut. i tried my best yall. hopefully it will get better with time! feedback is very much appreciated. i hope you enjoy it i love u bye!!

“I can’t believe she’s still with this fucking guy. He’s such a prick…” Jungkook scoffs, shaking his head a little before shoveling another bite of pad thai into his mouth. 

God, he was beautiful. His skin was pink and dewy, eyes glistening as he focused on the k-drama you had been begging him to watch with you all week. Ironically, he was more into it than you were. The show playing on your laptop, which you had very cleverly propped up on the toilet in front of you, only acting as background noise for the true entertainment of the night. Him. 

You felt a wave of warmth rush over you as you watched him. That sticky sweet feeling you get when you love someone. Everything felt warm, inside and out. The shimmery water surrounding you, adorn with bubbles and rose petals, was warm and floral scented. The dim light from the candles you had set up gave the hotel bathroom a warm, saturated glow. The takeout he ordered was still hot on the bamboo tray between the two of you. His fingers, wrapped around a pair of chopsticks as he ate the leftovers from your plate, were painted a fiery shade of red. 

You smiled to yourself, remembering how easy it had been to manipulate him into getting a manicure with you. “I find it sooo sexy when guys paint their nails,” you had told him on a summer day last week, swirling your tongue around a popsicle before suckling on the tip, looking him dead in the eyes. The very next morning he scheduled a dual appointment at your favorite salon. 

Everything felt warm and comfortable.

Feeling you watching him, Jungkook turns his attention to you. The damp ends of his blonde hair were frizzy, sticking out awkwardly around his head like a misshapen halo. He squints his doe eyes when they meet yours. There was eyeliner smudged around the outer corners, leftover from the shoot earlier in the day. He was a mess, but he never looked more angelic.

“Take a picture, it’ll last longer,” he says playfully through a mouthful of noodles. It was an obnoxious habit. Disgusting when others did it, but somehow adorable when he did. “I thought you wanted to watch this.” 

“I thought you didn’t, but I’ve seen you tear up at least three times and we’re only on the fourth episode. You’re far too invested, Koo.” 

“I am not,” he whines, “and they added too much cilantro, it’s making my eyes water.”

You giggle and reach your foot out, softly kicking his leg underneath the water. He levels you with a faux sniffle and pout, before reaching his tattooed arm out of the bath and grabbing the bottle of red wine on the floor next to him. He had room service deliver it while you were running the bath, knowing you would complain about the price. Even after all these years together, even though he was more than financially capable of doing so, you still felt uncomfortable with him spending money on you. That never seemed to stop him though.

“Here baby, have some more wine,” he coos, pouring the crimson liquid into your glass, filling up his own, and then placing the bottle back in its spot on the ground. His eyes crinkle again as he takes you in. This time it isn’t out of annoyance. It’s one of those smiles that reaches his pupils before it trickles down the rest of his face. “You look so beautiful right now.”

Your hair is in a messy bun. You have no makeup on. You trail your gaze down to your bare breasts, nipples poking out from behind the bubbles. “You’re only saying that because my tits are out.”

He looks down at your chest and hums in agreement, not inconspicuous in the slightest... 

You tut your tongue, motioning towards his torso. “I don’t know, your tits are bigger than mine these days.” It was a stretch. But not by much. He had been spending a lot more time at the gym recently, trying to grow his frame in preparation for the more provocative jobs he’s been landing. 

Jungkook wasn’t going to let that slide, quickly reaching over and pinching a nipple in retaliation. The audacity. The offending hand retreats before you can swat it away. 

“Ow!” You wince, jutting your bottom lip out very dramatically in an attempt to make him feel bad. He didn’t, the little brat. The faint stinging in your poor nipple was nothing compared to what your body normally endured after a night in the sheets with him. It was all welcome though. You both loved to indulge in that side of him once in a while. 

He lets out one of those high pitched laughs. The one he makes after does something naughty. More of a squeal than anything else. Your favorite. So cute that you can’t bring yourself to scold him further when he spills a little wine into the bathtub.

“Don’t be a brat. Tonight is not the night.”

Hm. Touché. 

As much as you would love to keep going, riling him up to the point where he couldn’t help destroy you, you decide against it… for now, atleast. You know he’s tired. This morning, his angry grumbling and fussing with the covers stirred you awake before sunrise. His photoshoot lasted longer than projected, showing up to your hotel room two hours late with a panicked look on his face. He loved his job, but it undoubtedly took a toll on him. 

“I’ll be good. See?” You raise your glass, clinking it with his. “To us!” 

“To us,” he agrees sternly, plump lips pulling into a grin as he nods his head with purpose. “Happy anniversary, my love.” 

Just like that, it’s been four years. Four years of you. Four years with him. 

You can’t help but reflect on your relationship as you sip the alcohol. It burns as it goes down your throat, but tastes so divine when it hits your tongue. Duality.

Although pure and true, your relationship with Jungkook has been far from perfect. The beginning was rocky. You had just started college and were in shambles, uncertain of what you wanted for your future. You weren’t ready for a relationship; too insecure to let him into your heart. Jungkook’s heart had always been big and accessible, however, his ego was even bigger. It came with the territory. He was just breaking into the modeling industry when you first met. He always felt like he had to prove something to the world. A bit arrogant even. These distinct differences between the two of you ignited explosive arguments, leaving you both burned and in tears. 

However, even in the darkness of night there is the promise of daylight. And even when the sun sets again in the evening, it leaves behind a paradise of colors, making it known that it will come back in the morning. Underneath all the fire, was a spark. At the end of the day, despite all the bullshit, you loved each other deeply. Eventually, you learned how to manage the differences. You communicated so effectively that you had grown to love those previously unbearable qualities in one another. The relationship aged like fine wine. The flames were no longer scorching, just warm and comfortable. 

Here you are, four years later. Spending your anniversary in a bathroom, with subpar takeout, because simply being together was a celebration enough. 

“Well, well, well, look who's crying now. Big baby.”

You hadn’t realized you were tearing up. You say nothing. 

“Hey, what’s wrong?” His tone takes a drastic turn when he notices the shift in your mood.

“Nothing, I just love you so much.”

He stares at you blankly for a moment, doe eyes larger than normal, expression unreadable. He lifted the tray out of the bath before reaching over and pausing the show playing on your laptop. Wet hand and all. You would’ve yelled at him if you weren’t so emotional. 

“Come here,” he whispers. Long fingers wrap around your wrist, tugging you forward until you’re positioned in his lap. Straddling him. You wrap your arms around his neck on instinct. 

“I’m sorry I was late today… and I’m sorry I missed your graduation.” 

You’re taken back, not really sure of what to make of his seemingly random confession. Jungkook had been invited to New York for a designer brand showcase a month prior. Easily the biggest break in his career thus far. Unfortunately, the dates overlapped with your graduation ceremony. Of course, you had been bummed out, but you would never deprive him of something that monumental. Later that night, you came home to a note on your doorstep and an apartment full of roses. 

Little did you know, that very same night, Jungkook had snuck off into the bathroom during the afterparty. A picture of you in your cap and gown that your mother texted him had his vision blurry. He contemplated jumping on the next flight home. He never told you about that though. 

“Koo, I understand. Your job is important to-”

“You’re important too, though. The most important.” His arms snaked their way around your waist, constricting you to his body. Face to face. Chest to chest. Nipples to nipples.

“I’m just… I’m so proud of you.” Soft, velvet, palms rub down your back, squeezing when they reach your ass. It was an innocent gesture. He was trying to reassure you. But all you could focus on was how good it felt to be touched by him. 

“I love you, you know that?” 

You peep a halfhearted ‘mhm’, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. The blonde really suited him. He looked so sexy. You wanted to devour him.

“I wasn’t there for you like I should’ve been in the beginning, so I really try to be there now.” The emotion behind his words was evident. Him dismissing your achievements had been a major point of contention in the early days. He’s changed a lot since then. You want to comfort him, tell him he shouldn’t feel guilty, but the way he shifts in his spot makes his pelvis rub right against your core. 

The teenest tiniest moan slips past your lips.

“__, are you even listening to me?”

If you said yes, it would be a lie. His words were like the abandoned k-drama, white noise. You slide your hands to his cheeks, pressing your forehead against him, inhaling his scent. Overwhelmed by him. Maybe it was because you haven’t had sex in over a week, which was almost unheard of in your relationship. Maybe it was because you’ve never felt more loved and validated by anyone like you did him. Whatever it was, it was turning you on. Fast. 

“I am baby, I just want-”

“You want what?” 

“I want you.” 

“Me?” His warm breath fans across your face. When he speaks, it comes out low, deep, and methodical. He licks his lips, making them glowly and pink. The tip of his tongue dragging against your own. His red nails now digging into your skin. Pupils morphing into a deep black. Pure lust. “What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to fuck me.” 

You feel a hard smack against your ass, water splashing over the edge of the tub upon impact. You wince, knowing that tomorrow you will have a Jungkook-shaped sore spot on your bottom. You’re in for it now. The anticipation leaves you dripping. 

“I told you, not tonight,” Jungkook growls, nuzzling his head into your shoulder. “Why don’t you ever listen, huh?”

Another spank. This time even harder. It makes you grip onto his hair, knuckles paling. 

“Why can’t you be good? It’s our anniversary. I wanted to be sweet with you.” He sinks his teeth into your neck, biting down and then sucking. He spanks you again, making you hold onto the edge of the tub to stop yourself from jerking forward. “Now I have to punish you.”

“I like you like this though.” You can’t help the neediness and desperation that’s laced through your voice. 

“Of course you do,” he chuckles, sinfully licking over the mark he created. “You’re so dumb. Such a slut. I can’t even talk to you without you getting horny.” 

“That’s not true,” you whimper. 

“It’s not? Then why are you so wet?” He spreads your cheeks with both hands, middle and ring finger rubbing between your folds, collecting your wetness. He takes a few seconds to barely circle your clit. His touch is light and feathery, teasing. Fuck him and his big hands. He brings them up to your lips, tapping. “Open.”

“But they’re all soapy…”

He hums, knowing you want to be good. He’s willing to compromise. He softly smacks your cheek with an open palm, gripping your chin and moving your head side to side. “What should I do with you then? Hm?”

“I want your fingers,” you say softly, voice coming out muffled from him squeezing your cheeks together. 

“Where?” 

“Inside of me.”

“Where though?”

You huff and wrap your hand around his wrist and pull him off. Your fingers don’t even touch, tiny in comparison. This was what you wanted, practically begged for. However, it still drove you nuts whenever he made you wait, wanting you to articulate every little detail, get you soaked before he even touched you. “I want them in my pussy… your pussy.” You whimper, guiding his hand down to where you wanted him most. Pressing down, you move his fingers against your clit in tight circles. You moan at the contact. “There.”

He takes the hint, rubbing you just the way you like. Slow and sensual. You can’t help the obscene noise ripping through you. 

Jungkook’s fingers dip further down, playing with your entrance, getting them nice and wet, before sneaking in. Moaning loudly, you roll your head back. He always filled you up so good. You can’t help but clench around his fingers, afraid he’ll pull back and leave you stranded. 

He curls them, knowing exactly how to touch to have you pooling into his palm. It feels like heaven. Just when you think the gates are opening, his fingers come to a halt. 

You shoot him an exasperated look. 

“Get yourself off. I know you know how, slut.” Your eyebrows slant and you clench your jaw. He’s a demon. He flashes a crooked bunny smile your way, finding your angry face very adorable. Not intimidating in the slightest. “Go on.”

You place your hands on the sides of the tub, using it as leverage to lift your entire body up. You were going to cum, even if it meant he made you do all the work. Sinking back down, you start fucking yourself on his fingers. Snapping your hips up, before going all the way down to his tattooed knuckles. Your knees digging into the porcelain as you form a steady pace. You know they’re going to hurt afterwards, but it felt too fucking good to stop. 

“I told you the manicure was worth it,” you mumble, somehow finding the strength to sass him. It was all part of the game. He loved the fight for dominance, even though you both knew it was something you relinquished willingly. 

If asked what his favorite thing about you was, Jungkook would say your witt. He loved when you smart-mouthed him, put him in his place. You could feel his cock plumping at your words, rubbing between your cheeks with every rut of your hips. 

“Shut up.” He scoots himself further down until he’s leveled with your bouncing chest, careful not to disrupt your movements. He teases your nipple with the tip of his tongue before catching it into his mouth. 

“Fuck, I love it,” you whisper, transitioning to a grind. One of your hands cups the back of his head, holding him close. Your hips rotate, mirroring the swirling of his tongue. Your clit was rubbing against the plush skin of his palm. 

The rosy pink bath water ripples, overflowing and splashing. You didn’t care about the mess on the bathroom floor, not when the mess between your thighs was more important. 

He moans against you, sending a vibration through your sensitive, overworked, nipple. He takes the hardened bud between his teeth, tugging gently and then moving onto the other. 

He starts curling his clean cut fingers with every drag of your leaking cunt, stroking your g-spot expertly, giving you more stimulation. Overstimulating you. “Please, Koo…”

“Already?” 

You nod frantically. All the years spent above you, behind you, and below you made him well aware of your signs. He knew you were close. “I want you to cum. Fuck, you’re so wet,” he sighs, just as desperate as you, turned on by your pleasure. Lips still wrapped around your nipple. It makes your clit throb. 

He abruptly starts thrusting his fingers into you. Your hips still as you lean your entire weight on him, bracing yourself as you reach the point of no return. He makes you cry for the second time when your orgasm hits, leaving you gasping into his ear. Your thighs tremble uncontrollably. His fingers slow, curling deliciously until he milks out every bit of your orgasm. 

You turn onto your side and bury your head into his shoulder as you come down from your high. He leans his cheek against your forehead, rubbing small circles against your lower back. Completely ignoring the flushed, angry cock resting against his lower stomach. Your sweet boy. So sweet that you just couldn’t get enough. 

His rough persona was already starting to fade. Not on your watch. 

You look down, eyeing his pretty pink tip through the bubbles. Pinker than the water. He has the prettiest dick you’ve ever seen. It makes you salivate.

You trail your manicured nails down his chest, circling his nipple, running over his solid abdomen, and down to his cock. You rub your index finger against the slit and then stroke his head with your fingertip. “I know you’re tired but… I want more. Wanna lick it.”

He huffs out a laugh and then pecks on the top of your head. He wonders how you could be so cute, yet so naughty and dirty? You feel a tap against your ass, signaling for you to get off of him. 

You wide-eye him when he stands. Droplets of water were running down his body. One gets caught in the dip of his v-line, trickling until it becomes lost in the dark patch of trimmed hair above his shaft. His thick, toned legs flexing as he steps out of the tub. You’re convinced that no matter how much time passes, you’ll still find him breathtaking. 

He mumbles a little ‘be careful’ when he helps you up, watching your feet to make sure they don’t slip. Always looking out for you in small ways. It was a subconscious trait he developed as he grew to love you more than anything or anyone. He tugs you close, looking at you with so much love in his eyes. You crane your neck up, pressing your lips against his. Nothing crazy or sloppy, just a kiss. Kissing Jungkook felt like it always did, warm and comfortable. 

“Alright, knees. Now.”

Asshole.

Interrupting your thoughts, yet again. You frown and look at the tile. The wet tile might you add. “But my knees-”

He grabs your hair, wrapping it around his fist and using it to force you down to your knees. The floor feels gross and cold against your shins.

“You do what I tell you, got it?” From your angle, he looks menacing. He’s peering down at you over that big nose, chest puffed out and red from exertion. The veins in his arm popping out under his inked skin as he held you with an iron grip. You have half a mind to cancel his gym membership.

His big, leaking, cock is standing right in front of you. It was almost intimidating.

You answer him with the most miniscule nod. 

“Use your words.”

“I’ll listen.”

“Look at me when you talk to me.” He doesn't even give you the chance to react, yanking your hair until your face is tilted upwards.

“I’ll listen,” you peep. 

“I go away for a week and you forget everything I taught you? Do I have to train you all over again?” He questions, mocking you.

“Yes, please. I don’t seem to remember,” you challenge, blinking up at him innocently, but so deviously.

“Open,” he commands. You listen, opening wide and sticking your tongue out. He bends at the waist, letting a glob of spit fall from his puckered lips and into your mouth. You swallow immediately, knowing what to do. Obviously well informed of the rules despite your protests.

“Good girl.” Releasing your hair, he brings his fingers to your lips, recalling your refusal to put them in your mouth earlier. “Again.” 

He’s just as devious as you are.

You flick your hair over your shoulders dramatically, hoping he’ll pick up on your annoyance. Squinting in defiance, you take his middle and index finger in your mouth, going all the way down to his knuckles, biting a little. You slide your tongue between them, letting them hit the back of your throat before pulling away. They do taste a bit soapy, but you suppose a girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do.

He shoves them back in before you move away entirely, making you choke. “I don’t think you’re ready for me. Gotta stretch you out first, don’t I baby?” He scissors his fingers, testing your gag reflex. Taunting you. You inhale and pinch your eyes shut, wanting to prove him wrong. You even bob your head a little, taking them in deeper. He lets out a shaky breath, clearly affected by your actions, exiting your drooling mouth. 

Nimble fingers wrap around his cock, using your spit to slick himself up. He squeezes right under the crown. Both of you watch in awe as a drop of precum oozes out. He shuffles closer to you, jaw going slack as he peers down at you. It looks like he’s contemplating something. Whatever it was, he better get going because if you have to wait even lo-

You gasp as his cock swings into your cheek with a loud thud. The heaviness makes you flinch. He pauses, expecting you to reprimand him. He did just smack you with his dick. To his surprise, you don’t say anything. In fact, you appear to be even more turned on than before, fluttering your lashes at him. Asking for more.

He makes a content noise, continuing to tap the tip against your face, watching as a sticky string of precum forms. “God, you’re so whipped baby. Why do you let me treat you like this?”

It was a rhetorical question, but you answer anyway. “Because I love you.”

“You love me?” He smiles, rigid expression softening for a second, pleased with your answer. “You love my dick. It’s all you think about. I bet when I was away you all you did was sit in bed with a wet pussy. Waiting for me to come home and fuck you.” 

You can’t help but wonder if that was a freudian slip. If he was still beating himself up for missing out on your graduation, mentioning it with no context or explanation. It makes your heart hurt, but that was a conversation for tomorrow morning. Tonight, you were going to do whatever you could to distract him.

Wetness touches your bottom lip. He rubs the head of his penis against you, smearing precum on your lips. He coos, mocking your compliance and submission. Sexually humiliating you is one of his favorite activities. You let him, even puckering your lips to sneak in a few kisses here and there. The light touches make him groan. “You gonna let me fuck that mouth, sweetheart?”

“Hm... I dunno.”

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

No answer.

“Are you going to put it in your mouth or what?” He scoffs, gnawing on his bottom lip. His right brow twitches. His forehead pulls in a bit. The irritated flicks in features already visible. 

You shrug nonchalantly. Internally, you were jumping for joy. He’s so fucking easy to manipulate. Right in the palm of your hand like putty, moldable into any shape you want. Any version of him you desire. 

His cock is angry too. Flushed and dripping. Needing to be touched. Craving you. Your mouth. Your pussy.

It jumps when you wrap your hand around it. So touch starved. Your pace is devastatingly lethargic, grip loose, not firm the way you know he loves and wants. His foreskin moves with you, rolling back and forth over his begging tip. So needy and wet. You wondered if the people next door could hear the nasty gushy noises his cock made as you jerked it.

You lean forward and lap at his slit. Airy kitten licks that provide barely any sensation to his greedy cock. One after the other. You feel his stare burning into your skin. He’s watching you, nostrils flaring as he grows impatient and agitated. You arch your back, giving him a clear view of your perky ass, before you start shaking and bouncing it. Teasing him.

“Enough, __!” He seethes, fisting your hair and bucking his hips with so much vigor that he stumbles forward. His cock shoves past your lips and down your throat. He catches himself by slamming a hand against the wall-mounted mirror in front of him, leaving a small crack in the middle. The neighbors definitely heard that one, but you were too far gone to care. 

The jolt sends you falling back on your butt, landing on the fluffy area rug in front of the sink. Atleast you were comfortable now. You always win one way or another.

Your legs are now laying flat between his, knees knocked together. Trapped between Jungkook and the sleek black wood of the integrated sink behind you. You're pressed against his pelvis, the soft hairs at the base of his cock tickling your nostrils.

Initially, you gag around him. Spit bubbling at the corners of your mouth, dripping down your chin after a few dauntingly long seconds. Your chest heaves as you struggle to adjust to the sudden intrusion. There’s a natural urge to push him away. Your matching red nails digging into his thighs as you try to shove him off of you.

“You’re okay.” He doesn’t let up. Feet firmly planted on either side of you. “Breathe. You can take it.”

With tears streaming down your cheeks, you inhale and exhale through your nose, regaining your composure. Determined to be good for him. 

When he touches you, it’s delicate and gentle, pushing your damp hair back. Fingers working their way through a few tangles. He cups your cheek, brushing away your stray tears. “I’m gonna fuck your mouth now, okay?”

You nod, making the tip of his cock rub against the back of your throat. Your mouth is warm and moist, like a sauna that’s sole purpose was to make him nut. The sensation makes him grunt. He brings his opposite hand down, holding your head still before taking a shallow thrust. Only giving you half of his length and then pulling back. Testing the waters. 

Glancing up at him with watery eyes, you meet him halfway, hollowing your cheeks. Your throat feels raw but his cock tastes phenomenal. Clean and sugary. Not a day goes by where you don’t thank the stars for blessing you with a man who eats fairly healthy and follows a strict hygiene regimen. 

Your nose is running a little. Jungkook notices before you do. His shoulders rise up with laughter, wiping it away with his big thumb. “So gross, baby. So cute.” It was gross, but you weren’t embarrassed, not with him.

Your jaw goes slack as you accept more of his cock, relaxing into the feeling. He picks up the pace, basking in view of his glossy cock dragging against your lips. You’re a vision. So beautiful to him. The disgusting wet noises your throat makes when he pulls away are deafening. He loves the way you gag when he pushes back in.

Jungkook has always been a bit quiet during sex, minus the dirty talk, of course. Never one to make obnoxious, pornographic sounds. He left that to you. You didn’t mind though. You can’t help but hum around him, loud and vulgar, when you hear his low grunts, knowing you’ve earned them. 

Your hands rub at his smooth, hairless thighs, feeling the muscles underneath clench and unclench, pulling his skin taut. He made the impromptu decision to get them waxed while his nails were drying under the UV light. ‘For shoots and stuff… It’s in nowadays’ he had snapped at you when you questioned his choice. Your palms make their way behind him, gripping his ass and pulling, wanting more of his cock.

“Mhm, it’s yours, baby. Take it.” He licks his lips and nods, looking at you with hooded lustful eyes, flicking his hair away so he can watch. “Tight little mouth…”

His voice sounded fucked out, so turned on. His head rolls off to the side like he doesn’t have the strength to support it anymore. All of the energy being sucked out of him, literally and figuratively. 

His hand cups the back of your head, thrusting every inch of his cock into your mouth. Holding you in place. His nose scrunches up and his brows knit together, cute dimple poking out as he bites the inside of his cheek. You hum, swaying your head from side to side. 

“Stop, m’ gonna cum,” he groans, attempting to pull you off. You’re persistent though, clinging onto him, keeping him snug inside of you.

“Ah, no- stop,” he whimpers in a high pitched voice you’ve never heard before. It was so desperate it made you clench around nothing. You feel him twitch in your mouth, hips jerking away like the pleasure is too much. He’s so deep that he can feel your tongue flat against his balls, licking and drooling down them. 

You pull off with a pop when you decide he’s had enough. 

“Fuck you,” he says through a laugh. He reaches his hands up, running them over his face to calm himself down. “You were going to make me cum before we even fucked.”

There’s a translucent strand of spit connecting his penis to your mouth. You swallow, wiping your chin with the back of your hand. A fit of coughs erupt through your chest. Booming and rough, before fading into a string of mischievous giggles. You feel delirious and light headed. He mumbles something about how well you took him, about how you were so good. You don’t really know. You can’t really focus at the moment.

You press your cheek against Jungkook’s leg, beaming up at him. So infatuated with him. So in love. High off endorphins and serotonin. 

“Stop laughing!” He shouts playfully, guiding you to your feet and pressing you against the marble countertop. He kisses your cheek before burrowing his head into your shoulder. “You’re fucking bonkers, babe.”

“Me? You fully broke the mirror!” 

“Huh?”

You twist in his arms, giggling madly as you crane your neck awkwardly to look at the mirror behind you. “It’s right…,” you look around, trying to scope out the crack, pressing your fingertip to it when you find it, “here!” There’s already tiny fragments missing, exposing the wooden frame underneath. You leave a smudge on the dewy glass when you pull away. 

He deadpans you, jaw dropping open like he’s just received tragic and unexpected news. The modeling definitely upped his acting capabilities, making him animated and theatrical over the most mundane things. You guess it’s somewhat justified in this situation.

Black irises flicker to you, then the mirror, then back to you. His hand clamps over his open mouth. “What the fuck, __?”

“Don’t blame me! You were the one that broke it.” You shout back, very amused by his reaction.

“Yeah, but you should’ve at least said something,” he states like it’s the most obvious and certain thing in the world. His arms are outstretched, palms facing you, looking at you like you’re missing brain cells for not comprehending his thought process. One hand drops against his side in disbelief. The other wraps around his dick, giving it a languid pump. 

You roll your eyes. He’s such a boy.

“It’s not even that big of a deal,” you mumble, tucking a loose piece of hair behind his ear. He can’t stand having his hair in his face, constantly stealing your hair ties and losing them on sets, at the gym, and basically where else he goes. The wispy ones at his hairline are sticking to his clammy skin. “What are they gonna do, arrest us?” Now it’s your turn to question his logic, exaggerating your words and moving your neck around like a bobble head.

“No… but we’re going to have to pay for it.”

“Oh, whatever. I’ll pay.”

“Shut up, no you won’t,” he says sternly, twirling his index finger in a circle. “Turn around before I lose my boner.” 

You do as he says, turning around to face the mirror. It’s so blurry that all you can see in it is two silhouettes amongst the condensation. Good. It saves you the embarrassment of looking at yourself. You know you look crazy and disheveled. You can already picture it in your head. Hair tangled, lips swollen, tear stained cheeks, lashes clumped together.

You bend over the counter, upper body pressing into the marble slab. It’s cool and smooth, a stark contrast to the hot, stuffy atmosphere of the bathroom. It sends a piercing shock down your spine when your nipples touch the surface. You turn your head to the side, cheeks squished.

Perking your ass up, you wait patiently for his cock. Your glistening folds are on full display for him, so enticing and sweet. He spreads your ass with both hands, catching a glimpse of your puckering hole. You’re messy there too, arousal from your pussy having trickled down throughout the night. You looked so appetizing. He’s spent countless hours of his life buried in your pussy, lapping up your juices, breathing you in with his nose smushed into your clit. Jungkook would die a happy man knowing he got to experience the taste of you. 

“Kook, please hur-,” your words are cut short by a loud cry when you feel his mouth on you instead. Wet muscle tickling your clit before dragging through your entrance. It’s like he’s making out with your pussy, flat tongue dipping into you. His plump lips close after each lick, creating these soft smacking noises that send you into overdrive. 

His tongue trails up, circling around your other hole. You squeal.

“I can’t take so much- I can’t ta- just fuck me already,” you cry out. You reach your hand back, searching to ground yourself, wanting to touch him. He intertwines your fingers with his, snickering as he gets back up. A sloppy, open-mouthed kiss is placed on your shoulder. They make a warm stream from the back of your neck to your tailbone. He takes his time, pressing kisses on every part of your skin. The tender moment makes you dizzy. 

“I’m sorry baby, you just- I’m so fucked up right now.”  He felt jittery and sensitive. Needing you as much as you needed him. “I’ll do anything you want- anything for you.”

You grind your hips back, needy for his cock. “I want you inside me. Fill me up.”

The sound of your voice has him weak. He didn’t need any more convincing, letting go of your hand and bending at the knees to align himself with your aching core. He spits on his cock, spreading it around your hungry core with the head. It wasn’t necessary, but a little extra lubrication never hurt anyone. 

He grabs your ass, pulling a cheek aside, wanting to see everything. A front row seat to his favorite show. He knows he’s going to just slide right in with how drenched you were. 

He stuffs himself in, catching you off guard with the lack of preparation, giving you his entire length on the first push. The arch of your back sucked his cock in so deep that you felt it in your stomach. You felt so full, so stretched. Like he was made to be inside of you. Your mouth opens wide with a silent scream, clawing at the countertop, needing to cling onto something. Anything. Your fingertips hurt as they press into the marble. 

Jungkook’s eyes are locked on the way your pussy just engulfs his cock. It tries to suck him back in when he pulls away, like it doesn’t want him to leave. Like it’s your life force. If he withdraws, your body will surely wither away into a pile of little pink sparkles. 

“Can you just-” he grunts, wrapping his colorful arm under your hips and lifting, making your parted thighs come together. “Yeah, like that… so tight like this.”

“Mhm, feels so good like this Koo,” you purr in agreement. The fit is more snug than before. You can feel every ridge of his shaft against your walls. Every vein. It makes your toes curl into the soft shag carpet beneath you. 

Chills rush through your limbs when he starts to snap his hips into you. There’s intent behind his thrusts. Pulling all the way back, leaving only the very tip of his cock inside of you. Watching as your cunt clenchs around it. Loving how your arousal turns milky, leaving his dick so wet and creamy. Then, he plunges all the way in. You let out little ‘mmm’ noises when his hips meet yours, breasts jiggling wildly underneath you. 

“I’m not gonna last much longer,” Jungkook says through gritted teeth. He slows down for a moment, smushing his pelvis flush against your ass and swiveling his hips in a circle. It’s obvious that he’s trying not to cum. 

“Me either, it’s okay,” you tell him, placing your palms flat and pushing your body up. Determined to get him off, you start throwing your ass back, using all your might to work his cock in and out of you. Skin slapping against skin. 

“Don’t.” He places one palm on your hip, halting your movements. The other goes to your shoulder, pushing you back down. “Lift your leg up,” he orders, pointing to the ledge of the sink, showing you exactly what he wants you to do. 

This was something he did often. Whenever you two had sex, Jungkook put you in all kinds of bendy positions. He loved folding you like a pretzel while he fucked you. In his words, putting you in simple, uncomplicated positions was ‘wasted potential.’ He was hell-bent on putting your flexibility to good use. 

Picking your knee up and placing it on the sink makes his cock slip out. You hear a hushed ‘fuck’ escape his lips. He’s quick to guide himself back to your drippy center. He’s so deep you feel like you’re going to vomit. Your eyes roll back, squeezing shut when you feel tears prick at the outer corners. You’ve cried way too much in the past hour… 

“Stay still, let me take care of you.” You couldn’t tell if your mind was playing tricks on you. If you’re being honest, his dick usually left you dazed and confused. But his voice sounded broken. Almost like he was on the verge of falling apart.

Without warning, he rests his entire weight on you, smashing his chest to your back. The stretch was uncomfortable, but the warmth radiating off of him was overpowering. 

“I want to make you feel good,” he fucking whimpers as his hand snakes between your bodies. He uses his ring and index finger to spread you open, middle finger massaging your clit. He nudges your head to the side, making room for him to nuzzle into your neck. “I want to be good for you- to you. I don’t want to miss anymore, please- don’t leave me. I’m so sorry.” 

He’s plowing into you with so much force, trying to emphasize what he means. You know what he means. What was that myth again? Something about being able to feel your soulmate's pain?

You never thought it was possible to feel devastation and euphoria simultaneously, but that’s exactly how you feel at the moment.

You need to see him. You reach your trembling hand to the mirror. The fog melts under your touch. You wipe your hand back and forth until he’s visible. Even streaky and distorted, he's still absolutely gorgeous. “Jungkook, look at me.”

He lifts his head, peeking through blonde curtains to meet your eyes in the reflection. They’re dark and glassy. You see nothing but raw emotion swimming in them. Pure love. His cheeks are tinged red. 

“Don’t cry, baby,” you sigh, ignoring your own words as wetness finally spills over your waterline. Crying because he’s touching you just right, bringing you closer and closer to climax, but also because you love him. So fucking much. 

The pit in your stomach keeps growing. Your orgasm is approaching rapidly. You shake and convulse under him. You’ve never felt so good.

“I love you,” he groans, confession sounding heavenly in your ears as his thrusts become sloppy and hopeless. “I’m gonna cum.”

“Me too.” You turn your head, nose knocking into his as you tangle your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. “Kiss me, kiss me, I love you so much,” you plead, voice cracking. 

He does. Lips crashing into yours, meshing together perfectly. Tongues twisting together, still tasting like one another. You sob into his mouth, tugging on his thick strands as your orgasm hits you full force. Pleasure is felt in every inch of your body, from your toes to the very tip top of your scalp. 

Jungkook cums with you. Cute face scrunching up as he paints your walls in hot white. He gives you everything, thrusting into you until he’s completely empty. Cumming so much that it overflows around his cock and spills down your thigh. 

A sequence of serendipitous events that leave you warm and comfortable.

Both of you are sticky with cum, sweat, tears, spit, and probably every other bodily fluid that exists. You should clean up, but neither of you make an effort to move. Too exhausted. Too peaceful. 

Closing your eyes, you relish in the feeling of his chest expanding and contracting. Instead of listening to the ticks of the clock on your right, you listen to his breathing. It’s rough and sporadic at first, but as the minutes pass by, it becomes calm and even. You can feel his heartbeat against your back. You’re surrounded by him. 

Light touches trail over your shoulders and down your arms until they reach your palms. He laces his fingers with yours, rubbing his thumb against the back of your hand. Bringing the left one to his mouth, he places exactly four kisses against it. The last kiss is longer and more meaningful than the rest. You smile to yourself. Four years ago, you would’ve never imagined that your relationship with Jungkook would look like this. Loving, happy, and healthy. 

He turns your hand over, placing it against his cheek. Your sweet boy. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask him, voice hoarse. You feel him shake his head. You hum, needing to say one more thing before you drop the issue. “I just want you to know that I love you. You have no reason to feel guilty. I’d rather have you with me mentally and emotionally than physically, you know?”

He nods, placing a wet peck to your temple this time. 

“Alright, get out of me. Your dick is limp and you’re sweaty.”

He lets out an airy laugh, mouth still pressed against your skin. Your grimace when he pulls out of you, cum already oozing out. Yuck. 

It was alright though. You couldn’t think of a better way to end your anniversary than taking a hot shower with him. You lift yourself off the counter, bones cracking. Legs aching. Worn out and exhausted. You were excited to slip under the crisp white sheets with him, fall asleep with your head on his chest. The perfect pillow. That sounded wonderful. 

Your shower was interrupted by a loud banging at the door. Jungkook looked at you confused and wide eyed, hoping out with impeccable speed as he scrambled to put a robe on. You groan, who the fuck would show up to your hotel room at 11:17 p.m.?

Hotel security. That’s who. 

There had been a total of eight noise complaints. All coming from the same floor. 

They weren’t too happy about the mirror either.

Needless to say, you and Jungkook spent the remainder of your anniversary in a shitty motel. 

© chryblossomjjk 2022 [do not copy, translate or repost]

#jungkook smut #jungkook x reader #jungkook #jungkook au #jungkook fluff #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot #jungkook imagine #jeon jeongkook #jungkook drabble #jungkook scenarios #bts smut #bts fic #bts jungkook #bts #bts x reader #bts au #kpop #kpop imagines #bts fanfic #jungkook fic #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x oc #jeon jungkook

[dandylovesturtles]

I should be asleep lol

Immediately post-S2

———

Donnie grew up in the sewers, so maybe he has no room to judge, but Draxum’s apartment is pretty terrible.

The first night - after they defeated Shredder, with their home so destroyed they couldn’t return, Draxum had (only a little begrudgingly) offered them a place to stay - Donnie had been so tired he hadn’t given it a second thought. He’d collapsed in the nest of blankets and sleeping bags they’d made and slept blissfully through the night. He learned the next morning that Raph had not gotten much sleep at all, too keyed up and full of adrenaline, but the rest of them had conked out immediately.

The second night, Raph had joined them in sawing logs. And they’d all slept soundly through the third night, too. But now it’s night four, and Donnie’s finally well-rested enough to realize that everything is very wrong.

The sheets are a different texture. The thermostat is set too low. The ambient sounds of the apartment building are not the ambient sounds of the sewer.

His dad’s snores from the couch and Raph’s deep rumble are familiar, at least. Both of them are out, Splinter the first to fall asleep that evening in front of Draxum’s crummy TV. Even Leo is asleep again, his insomnia yet to rear its ugly head, and Donnie can’t help but be a little jealous.

And of course, Mikey can sleep anywhere and anytime, so Donnie knows without even looking that he’s asleep. It’s just Donnie awake, then, staring at the ceiling and trying to will away the persistent itch of incorrectness.

At least, that’s what Donnie was thinking, until he hears a distinct sniffling noise from the pile of sheets that is his little brother.

Donnie goes as still and quiet as he can, listening closely. Maybe he just misheard? No, but that was definitely another sniffle… and the mound of sheets is quivering, now.

Mikey is crying. Donnie’s little brother is crying, and he may not be the one who usually handles these things, but Donnie is still a big brother, and more importantly he is the big brother who is awake.

He sits up, blanket draped around his shoulders, and carefully scoots himself around Leo’s tangle of limbs. Then he flops down next to Mikey’s mound, reaching out to lay a hand on top.

“Mikey?” he whispers.

There’s some shuffling, and then Mikey’s face peeks out from under his sheets. His eyes are wet, visible even in the dim light of the room, and he keeps snorting. Donnie makes a gallant effort not to flinch at the sound.

“Dee?” Another sniffle. “Did I wake you up?”

“No, I was already awake.” He rubs at the mound, for all the good it will do. “Are you okay?”

Mikey snorts hard, then blinks furiously to banish his tears. It doesn’t work. “I’m fine,” he insists, but it comes out hoarse and stuffy.

Donnie holds up a finger, then pushes himself to his feet. He pads across the apartment to the coffee table they’d shoved aside to make room and retrieves a box of tissues that he brings back, setting it pointedly in front of Mikey.

Finally, Mikey sits up, letting the sheets pool around him. He pulls out two tissues and blows his nose as quietly as he can - it’s still pretty loud, but Splinter’s snoring covers it up.

“Thanks,” he whispers once he’s done, tossing the balled up tissues to the side. Donnie pointedly ignores them (no matter how gross) and focuses on the matter at hand.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, not giving Mikey an out this time.

Mikey chews his lip. “It’s just… hitting me finally, I guess.”

Donnie tilts his head. “What is?”

“That… that the lair’s really gone. That we’re not going back.” New tears spring to his eyes, and Mikey grabs another tissue. “It’s just… I mean, we saw it yesterday, but… I don’t know. It’s l-like I didn’t really g-get it until right now.”

His voice is wobbling hard by the end. He chokes off a sob, rubbing his nose furiously with the tissue. Donnie knows that there’s definitely snot on Mikey’s fingers and probably his arms, too, but he can’t watch this anymore. He offers Mikey a hug, his arms barely open a second before Mikey is throwing himself into it.

As Mikey holds onto him and cries, Donnie thinks about the day before (well, really the day before the day before - it’s after three AM, now). They’d gone to the lair, to see what they could salvage. Everyone had been subdued; even Leo wasn’t managing to joke like he normally would. Only Mikey was still upbeat, able to see the silver lining in every cloud, cheering over every item they found that was still intact enough to bring with them, encouraging them to come back later and look for more.

Maybe they’d been a little too complacent that Mikey was going to be okay, after all that. But of course he isn’t; he loves their home as much as the rest. Sewers and all.

“We’re homeless, aren’t we?” asks Mikey after a minute or two. Donnie hasn’t really thought of it like that, but now that Mikey has said it, he knows he can’t refute it.

“In the technical sense, yes,” he says, and regrets it when Mikey bursts into a fresh round of tears. For the first time in his life, he abhors technical correctness.

But while it may be correct in the technical sense, what about other senses?

Donnie pulls Mikey down onto the sleeping bag, then works the sheets and his blanket over the both of them. Finally, he snakes a hand around to grab another fistful of tissues for Mikey, passing them over without dislodging Mikey from his hug.

“Do you know what I think Dr. Feelings would say, if he were here?” Donnie asks, once they’re both settled.

Mikey blows his nose again, then peers up at Donnie. “What?”

“I think he would say that home is where the heart is. As long as you’re with me, and Leo and Raph and Dad, you can’t be homeless.”

He delivers this with a great amount of conviction, so he can’t help but be a smidge irritated when Mikey laughs.

“Hey! I’m trying to help!”

“I know!” Mikey giggles, burying his face against Donnie’s plastron and lightly head butting into his chin. “That was a really great Dr. Feelings, Dee. Thank you.”

“…Hm, well, I was just passing along his recommendation.”

Mikey hums. There’s still a bit of a wheeze from breathing through a stuffy nose, but he sounds like he’s stopped crying.

“Hey, Donnie?”

“Yeah?”

“Love ya.”

“I love you, too.”

Sleep doesn’t find Donnie that night. But it finds Mikey, and he considers that a win.

#rottmnt #dandy fanfiction #rise Donnie #rise mikey

[as-is-above-so-below]

The Captain - Simon Riley x Sniper!Reader, Wife!Reader

Part 6: Darling

summary: Ghost’s sniper wife (reader) joins Task Force 141 on an op, against his wishes call sign: Freyja warning: implied sexual content, MDNI Note: PART 6 HAS ARRIVED! Thank you for all of your support! A special thank you to @lethalchiralium and @peachesofteal for workshopping with me, per usual, and being my beta! Enjoy and blessed be! (p.s. ghost drinking an orange sodie lol) << Previous | Next >>

Simon could hear his daughter’s screams as he came up the walkway to their front door, duffel slung over his shoulder. He had returned from a month-long deployment an hour ago and only allowed himself enough time to debrief and return his weapons once on base before hopping in his car and heading home.

He entered the house, still in full gear (mask and all), to find his heavily pregnant wife pacing the living room, their crying daughter in her arms. Her eyes and cheeks were red when she turned to the door, sobbing in relief at the sight of him.

“Oh, sweetheart. What’s going on?” he asked, dropping his bag by the door and going to her.

“She has a-a cold.”

“I can see that.” He wiped at the snot and drool on Joanie’s lip with his glove. “Where’s Roach?”

“He went to pick König up. You didn’t see him?”

“No. Must’ve just missed ‘im.” When Price handed out assignments for their most recent deployment, Roach had offered (more like decided) to stay with Freyja for the duration of his absence. With König also deployed, it made sense for him to help her with the baby and housekeeping while Simon was gone. Better than staying on base – alone – for a month. Knowing someone was in the house with his family made him feel better about leaving for such an extended period, especially with his track record. The last time he had left the country, leaving his pregnant spouse behind…

Simon rubbed his daughter’s back, his heartstrings tugging at the thought of her being in pain. “Give ’er here, I’ll take a turn.”

“Si, no, you must be exhausted-”

“I am exhausted, which means I’m in no mood to argue. Go to bed, love, please.”

His pleading didn’t seem to affect her as she went back to doing laps around the couch. “The doctor said there’s nothing we can do. It just has to pass. I’ve tried everything. Chest salve, shower steam, saline – nothing’s working. Every-Every time we put her down or sit down, the screaming just gets worse. Can’t stop…moving, and your son is kicking the shit out of me-”

This was ironic, considering how Joan only kicked when Simon or one of their friends spoke or touched her belly. Now, their son only ever kicked for her.

“Freyja.”

She stopped her rambling and found he had stepped into her path; he firmly held her biceps and dragged his hands up and down. Freyja sniffled as another tear slipped down her cheek. No singular word could describe how she felt (and probably looked). Drained, fatigued, beaten, dog-tired; none quite did the trick.

“You look like shit. You need to get some rest.”

“No, Simon, please just go to…bed.”

Soon as Ghost took Joan and returned to massaging her spine, her wails simmered to quiet whimpers as she cuddled into him. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, little fingers hanging from the collar of his shirt to the top of his vest. Their baby was getting big, her senseless baby talk beginning to lean more toward coherent vocabulary. When Joanie cried a soft “Dada” against his neck, Freyja started to sob harder, the heels of her palms dug into her eyes. 

Shit. “What’s wrong? She stopped screaming bloody murder. That’s a good thing.”

“I’ve been trying to calm her down for hours! You come home, and after five minutes, you’ve fixed it. She hates me! She fucking hates me!”

“Frey, look at me.” He stopped comforting Joan for a moment to tilt his wife’s chin up, forcing her to listen to him. When she did, he took his hand back. “Babies see their mothers as an extension of themselves. She knows your heartbeat and breathing sounds; she gets food from you…”

“Who told you that?”

“…I read about it.”

Freyja softened, tears no longer flowing freely. “You read parenting books?”

“Of course I do. I want to be the best for them and you.” He pulled her into his chest with one arm, his covered lips pressing into her hair. “You are her mother. I could never take your place. You’re her home. But I’ve been gone for a month, and I’ve never been away from her this long. There’s something to be said about missing her dad and wanting some comfort.”

When Simon brushed her tears away, she turned to kiss his palm, then rested her cheek there. Freyja didn’t know how, but her husband sure had a way with words, always knowing how to make her feel better. 

“Better?”

“Mhm,” she hummed and, before she could reach to pull his mask up, Joanie whined in frustration, kicking her legs impatiently, about to start up again. Simon chuckled and let his wife go, his heavy boots thunking against the hard floor as he began what would be a long night of getting his steps in. 

“Good. Now do as Daddy tells you and go to bed. Don’t make me tell you again.”

.

.

.

Coming up on the end of her pregnancy, the ‘waddling’ stage was in full swing. If Freyja thought she was big just before Joan was born, she was almost certainly a whale now, and she was losing energy much faster than before. This time around, though, they were sure to schedule a c-section for the week before her due date. The OB didn’t put up much of an argument with her medical history and Joan’s early arrival.

Her phone pinged again as she rounded the corner toward her husband’s office.

And again.

Joan’s irritable whines became more evident as she closed in on her destination. “Si, I can only move so fast.”

“Oh, thank god.” Ghost detached Joan’s iron grip from his mask while she was distracted. She continued to kick her little legs against him, trying to get away. “She’s antsy. I can’t get her down for shit. She’s sick of me.”

He wheeled his chair around the desk and tugged her missing sock back on (to her protest) until he reached the other side and placed her feet on the floor. “See? Mum’s here. Go see her,” he cooed, her tiny hands gripping his thumbs for support.

“Dad Ghost” as she had lovingly coined Simon in his work attire, was a walking contradiction. An arguably massive man, a masked mystery to majority of the population on base, snapping otherwise cocky and egotistical soldiers back in line. Still, no one dared to laugh as he screamed at them for poor technique or a lackluster performance with a blonde baby on his hip or strapped to his back. It never failed to make her want to giggle, hearing such a soft, gentle tone from the big scary skull plate affixed to his balaclava. 

Freyja was halfway across the room when he stood their daughter between his comically large boots. “She won’t go that far,” she admonished. “If you give her too big of a task, she’s not going to even try-”

As if sensing her mother’s doubt, Joan took a steady step forward, still holding Simon’s hands in deep concentration. Then another, and another –

Until he couldn’t stretch forward anymore, and she let go, hobbling towards Freyja until she stumbled at her feet, letting out a soft baby grunt.

They both stared at each other in silence, eyes wide and mouths agape in shock. Neither spoke for a good minute, until Joanie pulled herself up again by Freyja’s cargo pants, babbling, “Mum mum mum mummm”, gnawing at the thick material and looking up with big, brown eyes.

“Did she just…?”

“I told you, she’s bloody brilliant.” Simon shot up to scoop the baby and place her in his wife’s waiting arms.

“My big, smart girl! I can’t believe it!” She squealed and giggled as Freyja peppered her face in fat, wet kisses and gently shook her. Ghost joined in, playfully nibbling at the rolls on the other side through the black material covering his face. Joanie smacked them both away, screaming with joy. Amongst all the commotion, Price stopped in the doorway on his way to their brief (which they were about to be late for). 

“What’s going on here?” he asked, fists on his hips in faux anger. “I thought we had an understanding! No fun at work without Granddad.”

“We officially have a walker on our hands!”

Price gasped and crossed the room in an instant. “And I missed it?!” He shoved the stack of mission folders at the lieutenant and stole his granddaughter from her mother, hiking her high up on his waist. “You walked without me? I’m offended, little miss, but I’ll settle for a victory lap.”

He plucked his green bucket hat off the top of his head and dropped it onto hers, earning a high-pitched shriek of delight when it covered her face. “Let’s roll, everybody. We’ve got a meeting to get to,” he commanded before marching down the hall. “Oi, lads! She walked!”

A chorus of cheers broke out in the distance, followed by a wall-shaking group chant, “Joanie! Joanie! Joanie!”

Freyja just stood there, pouting, arms crossed atop her belly. “Just once, I’d like to celebrate our baby’s milestones in peace.”

“You know that’s not possible, love.” Ghost chuckled next to her, offering a single pat to her ass as they headed to the briefing. While neither of them would be going, it was their job to know what was going on during their impending absence. The ruckus started to die down when the couple sat, and the others followed suit. Soap placed a mug of peppermint tea in front of her, which she thanked him for, and  Laswell, Gaz, and Soap filed around the table.

“Kӧnig and Roach should be here shortly,” Price said, bouncing Joan on his lap as Ghost passed out manila folders.

Gaz checked his watch with a furrowed brow. “It’s five past. Maybe they forgot?”

“Just give them a few minutes. I’m sure they’ll be here.”

“His office was closed, so he’s definitely in there. I can go grab ‘im. It’s no trouble,” he offered, the metal legs of his chair scraping against the floor as he stood up.

“Be my guest, Sergeant,” Freyja hummed, making eye contact with John as she sipped her tea, hiding her mischievous grin behind the cup. She waited for an appropriate amount of time, about how long it would take to take ten paces up the hall before she held up five fingers. 

“You’re a demon.”

“Five, four, three, two…”

“Verdammt nochmal!” 

There’s a loud bang, eerily similar to the sound of a six-foot-six body slamming into the floor. Boots thunder against the ground until Gaz appears in the doorway again, eyes wide and blushing like a madman.

“Genau deshalb habe ich das Militär verlassen, keiner von euch hat den Anstand, verdammt noch mal anzuklopfen!”

“Didn’t knock, did you.”

“Nope.”

“How bad?”

König stomped into the meeting, red as a tomato as he jerked his long, tangled (read: freshly fucked) hair into a knot at the base of his neck before slipping his hood on. Roach walked in behind him, grinning like an absolute idiot (read: clearly the one doing the fucking), albeit a bit flush, and his clothes untucked and wrinkled as he plopped beside John. 

“At least I didn’t get knifed this time.”

“Der Tag ist noch jung, Unteroffizier.”

“I don’t know what that means, but it sounded like a threat.”

“It was,” Freyja sang, her body shaking as she attempted to withhold laughter.

By the time Price had finished divulging the details of the op scheduled for the end of the month (which was also around the time of her c-section, which left Freyja and those deploying disappointed), Joanie had escaped his hold to crawl across the table and landed in her mother’s lap. She sat back against Frey’s round belly, happily gnawing on a teething ring while the captain combed her fingers through her soft, blonde curls. 

John cleared his throat and leaned back, tipping the chair on its back legs. “So…In a shocking turn of events, Roach is the top–”

“WHAT DID YOU SAY, CAPTAIN?!” Soap screeched after choking on his coffee, leaving a stain on his shirt as it dripped from his nose.

“Oh, mein Gott…” 

“I don’t know. What did I say, Sergeant?”

Across the table, Roach held his lips between his teeth as he wheezed, quickly signing, “Only for my king.”

“PLEASE PLÖTZE! Stop talking!” König, finally deciding he’d had enough, shot up from his seat and practically sprinted out of the room, almost bonking his head on the door frame on his way out. A moment later, he stormed back in and snagged his forgotten file awaiting him in Roach’s outstretched hand before turning back out.

Biting his lip, Soap muttered, “Interesting…” to himself, eyeing the Austrian’s retreating form before flicking back over to Roach. The Brit was already looking at him, probably having heard him being sat next to him. He winked with a devilish smirk, and practically purred, “S’alright, happens tae th' best o' us.”

.

.

.

A few days shy of their next mission, and the birth of the newest Riley, the gang gathered around their living room for one last game night before Roach, König, Soap, and John departed for another mission. Roach and König were less than pleased to be missing the birth of their godson, but it couldn’t be helped.

Kyle placed a red eight down on the stack of cards, ending his turn. “C’mon, mate, what’s the wildest thing you’ve done on a mission?” he prodded, raising a brow in Simon’s direction. “You know all our stories. It’s only fair.”

The two shared a knowing look, and Freyja giggled once before Kyle interrupted, “Besides that, you heathens.”

Simon pressed against the kitchen chair he had dragged in for himself, seriously considering what he would consider the most outlandish activity he had partaken in outside of combat. Particularly, that didn’t involve screwing his wife in places they shouldn’t, like public places, sniper lookouts, cars, or supply closets…

Before he could drift too far, he caught the saucy side-eye his wife was throwing him from her deep armchair.

“No.”

Soap peeked up from his hand with a quirked brow. “Does Ghostie have an embarrassing secret? Now we have to know!”

“It’s not a secret, and I’m not embarrassed by it just because I don’t flaunt it around,” he said, shot back the rest of his whiskey, and replaced his mask. Simon didn’t always wear it with their friends; he just so happened to feel inclined to it that night. There was no rhyme or reason as to when he needed the comfort; the urge just came and went as it pleased. 

He tried his best to sound completely disinterested, hoping the discussion would blow over as he threw down his card. “Blue.”

Unfortunately, his plan did not work, and all interest in their game of Uno was lost. Kyle threw his hand down on the table, completely giddy. “WHAT IS IT?! TELL US!”

Simon groaned, throwing his cards at his wife, who simply laughed. “See, look what you did.” He sighed and begrudgingly unhooked his mask from behind his ears, tossing that at her too. After a beat, he let his tongue loll out, revealing a silver ball.

Several (if not all) of their jaws dropped, save for Freyja’s, who was utterly thrilled that this was happening.

Johnny was the first to speak. “Is…that…” he stuttered, staring unabashedly in disbelief. 

He snapped his mouth shut again once everyone had had a decent look. “Alright, can we move on please–”

The Scot pounced across the space, clearing the coffee table as he knocked Simon out of his chair, taking them both down into a heap on the floor. They wrestled as he tried to dig his fingers into Ghost’s mouth and pry it open again. “LEMME SEE!”

“JOHNNY!” Simon roared, bucking and thrashing his hips in attempt to get the man off, but he quickly scooted up until he sat firmly on his chest, knees pinning his shoulders as he yanked the piercing back out.

“Awe, so that’s why you’re always fuckin’ like horny teenagers! Oh, ah bet that feels good on your cu-”

“SHUT UP, SOAP!” “THAT’LL DO!” 

Freyja whipped her slipper at Johnny’s head, which he swiftly dodged. Meanwhile, Gaz was face down on the floor, having a fit and struggling to breathe. Price looked like he would actually rather die than endure another moment of the scene unfolding at his feet. Kӧnig was carefully weaving between people and furniture to remove Soap before he got hurt, and Roach stayed in his spot, mouth open in silent laughter.

Thank God Joanie was a heavy sleeper.

“Are you gonnae sit there ‘n tell meh that a’m wrong? A husband should always eat arse!”

“JOHNNY, OH MY FUCKING GOD!”

Kyle finally caught his breath and cut back in, “But does it WORK?!”

Everybody froze, including Kӧnig, whose hands looped under Johnny’s armpits, about to extract him. From underneath him, Simon glared up at his wife (who started this whole fucking mess). “Freyja–”

But Freyja, being the brat she is and loving the chaos, “…It works.”

Simon covered his face with both of his now freed hands, so utterly sick of her shit as the sergeant shook his shoulders, he and Gaz both screaming like madmen. Kӧnig still hovered over them, ready to remove Johnny if Simon called for it, his red hair up in a neat top knot at the crown of his head. A few strands hung loosely by his ears and at the peak of his forehead, framing his pale skin.

“AAAAAYYYYYY, SO YOU DO GIVE GOOD HEAD!”

He removed his shield at that, looking up at Johnny with a confused expression. “Who said I don’t give good head?”

Price flinched with a crinkled nose and grabbed his hat from the back of the couch. “That’s my cue.”

“Scary guys either have monster cock or scary good head,” Kyle stated as if it were pure fact.

“But he has both.”

“I can’t fucking take this.” Simon finally shoved at Johnny and the Austrian lifted him with ease, standing the Scot back on his feet.

Soap dusted off his pants. “Damn, you’ll have’ta get one’a those, Köni,” he teased and turned to face the giant, looking up at him with a boyish grin. 

König’s skin, ever the shy one, immediately painted itself a rosy hue, unable to be hidden by any hood or mask. Even Roach was taken by his brashness and turned a little pink himself, choosing to sip his drink. König was, unfortunately, frozen in place, wide eyes staring down at Johnny’s proud face.

Three seconds pass.

Then two more.

Then three again.

“OH MY GOD, THAT WAS THEM?! The threesome you told me about a few weeks ago, was them?”

With nowhere else to go, König collapsed onto the couch and pulled the neck of his sweater over his face. “Verdammter Himmel, Johnny…” If he could crawl into a hole and die, he would.

“What can ah say? M’services are world-class.”

“Can confirm,” Roach added, having put his glass down so he could use both hands to talk.

Johnny raised a brow and dragged his eyes from Roach’s shoes, slowly up his shins, then his thighs and chest before settling on the challenging smirk on his freckled face. “‘S that so?” he asked, stepping into the space between Roach’s knees and the table.

Roach simply nodded, looking up at his boyfriend through hooded lashes, resembling a lovesick puppy with shocking accuracy. He knew exactly what he was doing, too, the tip of his tongue poking out between his teeth. Roach was a…talented flirt, to say the least.

His glass was carefully removed from his hand and placed on a coaster. Without a second thought, Soap wrapped his fingers around Roach’s wrist, dragged it behind his neck, and tossed the man over his shoulder. Gaz gaped, completely dumbfounded into silence – flabbergasted, if you will. He paused in the entryway, looking over his opposite shoulder.

“You comin’, Kö?”

König, still tucked away in the corner of the couch, peeked out from the cocoon he had created with his sweater. Even his forehead was tinged red, still. He openly stared for a bit before mustering up enough courage to rise again, and in an impossibly meek voice for such a large man, replied, “...Yes, sir,” and loosely tangled their fingers together.

Kyle threw his hands up then dropped them onto his head, dragging his cap back a bit. “WHAT IS GOING ON?!”

Freyja offered a sympathetic pat, her bottom lip jutted out. Poor Simon, who had returned to his seat, covered his mouth with one palm as he tried to contain his chuckles. He pulled his mask back on after retrieving it from the floor.

“Don’t worry, Gaz,” she said and poked his cheek. “We’ll find you a nice girl.”

“I GET AROUND FINE!” He swatted her hand away, glowering at her. “You’re all just a bunch of slags!”

He jumped up, abandoning his beer and putting his hat back in place. “Where’s my niece? I need to restore my innocence,” he grumbled, trudging upstairs.

“Simon, did he just call us sluts?”

“Yes, darling.”

taglist: @esthervalea, @miss-leto, @sweetestcowboy, @blueoorchid, @apocalypticseagull, @eatingtheworldsoffanfiction, @covenlovenn, @330bpm-whiplash, @gnoccheyy, @jaggernauticals, @dwkfan, @untoldshortsofthefandomsdoms, @bobfloydsgf, @maviee, @thomaslefteyebrow, @kyovy, @prodyng, @scout-fang, @avalkyrieofparis, @misshoneypaper, @berryjuicyy, @voteforpedropascal, @beakami, @addictedtothefictionalworld

Copyright © 2023 as-is-above-so-below. All rights reserved.

#simon ghost riley x wife!reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x sniper!reader #husband simon riley #simon riley x wife!reader #simon riley x pregnant!reader #simon ghost riley #task force 141 #john soap mactavish #soap call of duty #soap cod #ghost cod #ghost mw2 #cod mw #cod mwii #cod mw ghost #captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #angst #fluff #call of duty #task force 141/reader #ghost x y/n #modern warefare reboot #we love a girlboss #könig gets tossed #ghost smut

[forgerfamilyantics]

Spy x Family is BACK!! And chapter 95 was, dare I say, INCREDIBLE!! (spoilers below!)

I'm so glad we got a new chapter at last! And this one was absolutely one of my top favorites, especially because it was an Anya and Damian centered chapter, and I'm a huge Damianya shipper ;)

We start off with Becky remembering there's a Gala going on at Eden soon. And of course, she encourages to have Anya ask Damian to dance!

Poor Damian... Anya's cool demeanor when it comes to matters of the heart is no match for him, lol.

We then skip to the day of the gala, and I was absolutely IN LOVE with the way Endo designed everyone's outfits (especially my beautiful Damian in his little suit 🥰)

Anya had a very Cinderella, "belle of the ball" sort of entrance, and she looks gorgeous in her little dress! She's not wearing her hair accessories either, which I found interesting.

We also get this little scene of Martha and Henderson interacting. It seems they know each other pretty well. I wonder if they have any sort of past together?

The announcer says the classes are going to have a little "friendly competition" between them, the prize being able to enjoy the Imperial Scholars' lounge for a day. And of course, Damian gets a little too into it... I love him so much 😭

Poor Anya. Damian's wrath sure is something... but he has a point after an answer like that 😂

And we have a Loid appearance! He's dressed as a waiter again.

As the party goes on, Becky gets a whole crowd of admirers asking to dance with her. And in typical Becky fashion, she turns them down 😂

Through the narration, we find out that the Eden party isn't just a class dance, but a chance to create political bonds with the other students. I wonder just how much of the friendliness between the students is genuine, and how much is fake...

It seems like both Damian and Anya are popular dance partners as well. The bus hijacking seems to have brought them quite a lot of popularity.

And we have some jealous Damian 😏

I loved how Loid acted about Anya at this scene- not just about the snot (lol) but how open he is about having her dance with whoever she wants. He's such a great dad :)

I do have to say though, that snot comment was a little savage 😭

We close off the chapter with Emile and Ewen having all of Damian's prospective dance partners line up to pass a series of tests to prove their worthiness.

And both father and daughter are ready to take them on!

I'm really looking forward to the next chapter. I love Eden Academy centered arcs 😉

Chapter 96 comes out in two weeks, everyone! Stay tuned!

#spy x family #sxf #anya forger #damian desmond #loid forger #becky blackbell #spy x family spoilers #sxf spoilers #spy x family manga #sxf manga #forger family commentary

[thegnomelord]

"the man you knew is dead, you killed him"

GNOME IM GONNA STRANGLE YOU WITH MY 8 LIMBS.

no but fr tho I'm a big loser when it comes to angst and like AaUAUSYRRRRGGGHH

Your comfort fluff fic with hound and the 141 and the hound in the shirt in price im

Altered my DNA it was that good I'm so

I feel like Hound won't be able to trust Price 100% like he used to and that's so augggggg

5W+1H Hound trusting Price like aurh

But I feel like whenever we get to that point where Hound can finally look at Price with something other than void n emptiness n shit it's gonna be so sweet

-🐙 (sorry for submitting so much I'm just obsessed)

It's fine octo! Ya'll are just fuelling my hyperfixation and helping me come up with more ideas for the fic lol.

I can just imagine when Hound finally looks at Price, really looks, it's at his lowest point, maybe after something traumatic, and he doesn't know who to trust or what's 'right' and just gets overwhelmed, chest and shoulders trembling and eyes stinging to hold back your emotions because you're Hound damn it, you're not allowed to cry like this, crying won't get you anything, you need to be strong.

But big, ugly sobs break through your resolve. And Price is there, gentle hands pulling you down into a hug. And you just break, hugging him tightly and cry into his shoulder, trying to get out 'I'm sorry's through your hiccups, his shirt getting drenched in your tears and snot.

And Price is just soothingly rubbing your back, muttering "It's okay, you can do it, let it out."

#WHAHAHAHA I'LL MAKE YA'LL SUFFER WITH THE FIC #AND MYSELF SINCE I"M A WHIMP #gnome's tea break #gnome correspondence #cod mw2 #male reader #x reader #captain john price #captain john price x reader #captain john price x male reader #🐙anon #good dog fic #Hound-reader

[himegureisu]

Hiii! Just got home from a horrifying midterm exam. It went horrible, none of the questions were even in the lesson plan. Although it did give me an idea for this request :')

It's practically universal knowledge that Snape is a 'terror prof' (iykyk) at Hogwarts — his standards are high, he's very particular with essays and it's practically expected that every major exam, tears will be shed in and out the classroom with the amount of curveballs he throws at you.

(I'd feel like he'd be the type to have a True or False exam with choices like: True, Partially True, Partially False, False, and if none is applicable write the correct answer and all of it is situational)

He's married to the reader and they're both teachers, so they help each other on their loads. Much more efficient that way. One night after a particularly hard-hitting major exam in the semester, reader encounters tear stains and snot and a few drops of blood from a nosebleed on one of the exams (witnesses this once lol) and decided to confront him husband about it. Thank you! I hope this isn't too specific ;w;

Questions and Answers

Pairing: Severus Snape x Reader

A/N: I'm sorry you had a horrible exam day and thank you for preventing me from pulling my hair out of frustration because my Notion page was not cooperating when this request came through. I hope you enjoy this! 💖

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“Severus, darling, why do your exam papers have at least two different types of fluids on them?” your fingers flip through the unfinished stack, your eyes scanning them.

This was the thirty-fifth test paper from his pile that you graded. His second-year tests were stained by a range of substances you curiously identified through a spell.

Did he truly not notice them?

“There’s a combination of either snot, sweat, tears, or,” you paused, taking one of the papers you already graded, to present to him. His dark eyes highlighted by the round reading glasses made for a rather attractive sight but focus, “On the rare occasion, blood,”

“Oh,” he simply said, looking up at you, “And?”

“Is that all you can say?” you frustratedly run a hand through your forehead as you sit on the edge of his desk causing him to stop, “What are these questions even? It’s a major exam for second years, not OWLs or NEWTs, Severus. My head hurts not only from the answers but also the questions,”

“If they can’t answer then they’re not competent enough to proceed to the…” his sentence undone by the beginning of your ramble, an attempt to explain why his methods were not feasible.

“Can you imagine the physical, mental, and emotional drain that major exams cause to students? You can reminisce on your time as one if it helps but it’s not good and then to be brought to this level of inquiry as if they were taking a mastery,” you explained, “There isn’t even a 50-50 chance to get the answer right only 25 because you decided that it would be better if there would be four very similar but distinct answers to the multiple choice questions and not a chance of redemption for those who don’t know the question if the said answer is one they needed to correct. I can better understand your students’ frustrations from this version of your exams,”

“To adjust the exam would mean that there would be a lower level of understanding…”

“That’s the point though since they’re just building the foundation of what they know for potions!” you exclaimed, “If it were a muggle game, Severus, it should be easy, medium, and then hard but your exams are hard, hard, and then hard on every level. Do you understand?”

“Yes, but…”

“Sev, imagine this,” you sit on his lap, cupping his cheeks for him to focus on you as you say, “Imagine a child, our child, a little boy or girl coming home to us in tears because of a similar test that they’d taken on that day,”

“It would be different. They would be ours,” he grumbled, pulling you in closer to bask in your warmth, “We wouldn’t teach them to be like that,”

“Sev, just imagine!” you sighed exasperatedly, his face buried beneath your chin, “Your little girl coming home in tears crying for us wanting a hug because of an awful exam day,”

His breathing was in sync with yours, trying to understand your reasoning. His imagination slowly conjures a little girl in your image. Her face was stained with big fat crocodile tears, a snot-filled nose, and books slung defeatedly on her arm. His heart tightened at the image of it, protectiveness surging from within.

No one was allowed to make either of you cry.

“Can you imagine?” you softly asked, running a hand through his hair, as he mumbled, “Yes,”

“Can you change the way your tests are written?” you silently prayed that he would, he breathed in and faced you to answer, “Fine, and you’ll help me,”

“I expect as much,” you smiled.

As you were about to get off his lap, his arms quickly pulled you back and in doing so, caused the chair to stumble a bit from the force. His nose on your hair, breaths warm, and hug unwilling to let go.

“Sev?” you glance back to see his darkened gaze, “What is it?

“Do you want children?” he asked, it wasn’t something both of you discussed in depth before, “I realized that after four years of marriage, we didn’t elaborate on our expectations on that particular topic,”

“If we’re blessed with children, then I’m happy,” you informed, tracing the contours of his face. No matter how many times you’ve seen him it’s like there’s another new thing to catalog in your mind, “If not, then I’ll be happy having you all to myself,”

“I don’t know if I want children,” he admitted, and you kissed his cheek, “We’ll get there when we get there, Sev, for now, don’t think about it,”

#severus snape #severus snape x reader #hp #harry potter #severus snape fanfiction #snape #professor snape #hogwarts #fanfiction #snape x you #severus snape x you #harry potter fanfiction

[1-800-local-slut]

My Crazy Wife and Kids

Rio x Black! Fem! Reader

Warnings: bad parenting (not outrageous, they just don't know what their really doing), reader had a hard childhood, light child endangerment, arguing between reader and basically everyone, angst with a fluffy ending, the reader is Caribbean because I really understand the struggle of trying to understand Caribbean parents, mentions and allusions of smut, mentions of cancer, reader works as a pimp under Rio

Guess what's harder, raising three girls vs running a drug empire? Rio and his wife are the proud parents to three girls and struggle to raise them and change the way they were both raised

Please let me know if you enjoy, likes and reblogs are appreciated! Also I'm taking request for Rio and every character I write for, I wanna write more stuff for my baby daddy! <3

This is a long one lol

Important info: The oldest daughter is nine, the twins are seven

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The car was silent. The twins sat beside their oldest sister, Valentina. Amancia and Alvita squirmed in their seats while Valentina stole glances at the front of the car. Her father, Rio, kept his hands gripped on the steering wheel and his eyes glued forward as he drove them home from church.

Their mother had their iPads sitting in her purse. She'd taken them as punishment the moment they got back in the car. It felt like riding to your doom, sitting in the car with two angry parents like hers.

The sun beaming outside did nothing to ease her nerves, and the thought of winding down the window and risking sending her mother into a lecture was not one she was willing to act on.

Don't get it twisted; the girls were by no means treated awfully by their parents. But when you have an old-world Caribbean mother who still 100% believed in spankings, there's no telling what you're in for after a day of acting up.

The more familiar the streets got, the more anxious she got. Sure, she was supposed to just go to the bathroom and take the twins with her. But how could she resist taking a little walk outside? And how could she resist going to the corner store?

When they got back with bunches of (stolen) candy and got caught by a deaconess, Amancia decided that was the best time to bust out that swear word she heard their mom call some lady on the phone.

Amancia called her a cunt, and Valentina could feel her ass start to throb from the spanking they were about to get. Alvita bit the deaconess the moment she tried to grab the three of them.

It was over then.

They were sitting in the driveway now, and Valentina realized that Alvita had snot running down her nose and her hair that their mom perfectly styled that morning, and Amancia was staring off into space as if she accepted her fate.

Her mother cleared her throat as daddy turned off the car. He let out a weary sigh and ran a ringed hand over his face. Her mom cleared her throat and turned back to look at them.

"Go take a shower. Valentina, you first."

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"Why on God's green Earth did she call that woman a cunt? I don't know," his wife sighed as she wrapped the scarf around her hair.

"Because she heard you call that lady a cunt on the phone last month. I knew something was up; I saw her little ass twitching to use the word," Rio chuckled, opening the sheets for her to come into his arms.

"You think this is funny? I had to be the bad guy again," she asked as she crawled into his arms. The silk of their red sheets covered her, and the TV played Empire in the background. Rio reached over and turned off the bedside lamp. The large room was dark now and was only illuminated by the glow of Cookie Lyon beating her son with a broom.

"It's funny because that woman is a cunt. You know it, I know it, and Vita just said what we were thinking," he yelped, the pinch getting him hard.

"Yes, Sister Jefferson is a cunt. Our kids will respect authoritative figures." She was getting upset now. She shifted away from him slightly, and Rio didn't miss it. Rio wasn't sure what to say next, so he figured it was best to just agree.

"You're right."

"So why don't you act like it?" Silence.

"What do you want from me?" He asked after a moment.

"I want you to stop leaving me to punish our kids all alone. I know I pushed them from my pussy myself, but I didn't put them there alone. You just stood there like a fucking idiot while I dealt with them, and I'm sick of being the bad guy." During their confrontation with their three daughters and forcing them to call Sister Jefferson to apologize, Rio more or less stood there. In the past, she did ask him to not just be the fun parent, but sometimes it still slipped his mind.

"So you're mad I didn't yell at them? You're mad at me because I didn't chase them down with a stick or make them write out sentences 100 times? Don't piss me off." It wasn't that serious, was it? An annoyed huff was his answer.

"Yeah. The girls adore you, and I'm just the bitch who takes their shit and sends them to bed. Then you have the fucking audacity to say it was my fault she called that woman a cunt. What about you? You remember teaching our kids Spanish, yeah? So when you're going on and on swearing in a way that would kill your mother, you think they don't understand you. Come off it, you prick." She rolled even further from him now. He had a feeling she was pissed off earlier at dinner after she called the girls down and even after she tucked them all in.

"You wanna call me a prick louder, ma? Maybe Amancia will hear you and use that one next Sunday." It was a mistake, and he wanted to suck the words back into his throat. It was an intrusive thought that he didn't have time to stop from slipping out.

He could hear the craziness turning in her brain. He didn't just marry her for no reason; he married her because she could hold him down. And to hold Rio down, you have to be a bit crazy in your own right.

He was on the ground with a thud, and the TV was off.

"Did you just fucking push me?!"

She was silent now, the way he had been during the confrontation earlier.

"Hello? I know you hear me? Did you really just throw me onto the floor?" A pillow slammed into his chest, and he knew it meant he was not welcome back in this bed.

"So now we're just throwing each other off things, right?" More silence, as she pulled a pair of headphones onto her head, and he could hear the sound of the ocean bleeding through. Pulling an eye mask over her face, he just huffed and headed to the door.

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The sun shone through the kitchen as she chopped up sausages to make breakfast. It was 5:30 now, and the girls would be up soon. Where her fucking idiot of a husband was, she didn't really care. How dare he! Leave her alone with the kids?

It had been a while (nine years) since her first pregnancy. He wasn't as useless back then. And she knows she was not alone in that bed making that baby. She didn't want to do things the way she did.

Yes, she struggled at times to show affection, but that wasn't her fault. She didn't have a mom to show her how to hug or any older sisters to teach her how to be a girl. She had to learn about femininity from watching the older girls around her shitty neighborhood. Hell, until she met Rio she wasn't even sure about having kids.

When they asked where grandma was, the last thing she wanted was to explain was that her mom killed four people in a gang fight and that she herself was born in jail before she was released to her grandma who was hardly around. That she spent one day every weekend driving to a prison to see her mom. That even as a grown adult, she still gets collect calls from her mother and her husband sends money for her books and does whatever her can for her in jail.

It wasn't entirely her choice to keep the girls from their grandma. Grandma expressed no desire for them to know that she sold her whole life to kill four people.

Growing up the way she did, why did everyone just expect her to be a model mother over night? Good at all the emotional shit that came with kids? She wasn't and it was fucked that her dickhead of a husband may as well be a totem pole the way he just stands there sometimes. Behind her the fridge opened. Speak of the devil she supposed. Still she ignored him.

Since she was a fuck up, since everything he said was bad for the girls then it was better she didn't speak to his dumbass at all.

"Good morning baby." After 13 years of marriage his voice still made her wet. Still she relented.

"How did you sleep? It wasn't the best for me, my back hurt and I had to sleep on the couch. You wanna rub it out for me baby?" He was testing her, testing the waters to see if she was still steamed. He was very close to getting slapped with a pan.

Nothing from her as she poured three cups of lemonade for the girls who she heard moving around upstairs. Returning to the stove, she started scraping the food into three plates. She felt his hands creep up her sides.

"Look. Look baby, I'm sorry. I know you're not the best with being affectionate with the girls and I know you struggle to figure out how to go about things with them. But I want you to know we're a team. I'm gonna start acting like it baby." His apology was smooth and deep in her ear. Still she could hear the honesty in his voice and tears bubbled up in her eyes.

The girls had a lot to do today. From Valentina's dance classes after school, the Amancia has a piano class and Alvita has science classes at her advanced tutoring company after school. And knowing she wouldn't have to be pissed off at her husband all day was a lot better.

"It's hard. I want to be closer to them so bad but I can't. I don't know how to be a good mom, or how to comfort them or teach them anything that isn't violence. All the books and youtube videos in the world can't teach you how to be a parent. I want to think I'm doing good so bad. I would fucking die for my girls. I would kill for them and end up in jail right next to my momma for them and I just can't seem to prove that to them. And it would be a lot easier to have someone for them to be angry at instead of me when they do something wrong." She sniffled, whipping tears from her eyes and turning into his chest.

He smelt so good. Like leather and the Dark Temptation body wash she picked up for him last time she went to Target and she made a mental note to buy it again. His strong arms wrapped around hers and he pressed a kiss to her scarfed head. One hand rubbed her back while she cried.

"Mama, the girls love you. You are a great mother. Just by being here you do more than so many people who up and run. They look up to you like you're the Sun. You're the only mom they have and I can see that they wanna be just like you. I'm sorry that I was being the fun parent. You know my entire life, I said I would be there for my kids for the good and the bad. And I've just been sitting back for the bad like my grandpa did. He left my grandma to struggle with me and Nick.

For a long ass time I thought my grandma was just hard on me for no reason. Now I know it's the stress of having to be with someone who's only there half the time and I'm sorry I put you through that."

When he mentioned his grandma his voice cracked. She pressed a soft kiss to his shirtless chest and she nodded against him, wrapping her arms around his smooth frame. She ran her fingers over a small scar on his back that he got when he was putting the cribs up for the twins.

"I'm sorry I pushed you off the bed." One of the girls was using the toilet, while the shower turned on again and it sounded like one of them (probably Amancia) was still in bed and she knew she'd have to get her up soon. A deep chuckle resonated through him and sent tingles through her entire body.

"It's alright, I'm sorry I was being a prick."

He stole a piece of sausage from the scrambled eggs and popped it into her mouth. She chewed and swallowed before giggling.

"Shhhh, Amancia might hear you." She teased, and he smirked down at her in response.

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"Aw don't be pouty baby. You'll look so good in that tutu." Rio snickered, sipping from his wine glass and placing it back on their marble counter top. It was a mother daughter dance recital and she was less than thrilled to get this invitation. No actually. She was thrilled. She was thrilled to do something with her daughter, not with a fuck ton of people watching but she would never be ashamed to show off with her princess in front of the whole world.

Valentina was fidgeting around, doing little dance moves and dancing around with her little sisters. How could she say no to that? The woman would be prancing around on stage, matching pink tutu. She was married to a drug lord and helped run his empire with an iron fist. She wasn't used to being in the spot light and as ironic as it was.

"You don't have to do it if you don't want too."

The girls stopped playing. Valentina was standing in front of her mother who was sitting on a chair in front of their kitchen island. She looked like she felt bad for even asking and it put a knife in her heart. She realized then that she didn't hide her emotions as well as she hoped.

"No, no I want too! I was just thinking about how awful those other moms and daughters are gonna look dancing next to us. We're gonna eat them up, trust." Scooping up Valentina with a hug, she nibbled on her cheeks and kissed her silly. Her little princess squealed in delight and she twirled her around.

She needed a drink and a smoke. Rio chuckled as she pulled a cigarette out her pack and lit it. She stole a sip from his wine while she looked at the paper.

"Fuck, I can't make this rehearsal next week." She exhaled the smoke and Rio pushed the sliding door that led to the patio open next to her.

He slid into the seat next to her and heard the girls start up a round of Mario Kart. She rested a head on his shoulder and he wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pushing an ashtray towards her.

"That's the first one. What do you have?"

"I have a mammogram, and I pushed this one back twice already." Rio always got nervous when she had to go to the doctor for any reason. Especially when it was a titty doctor as he liked to call them.

"Yeah thats important. I'm sure Val will understand."

"I feel awful. You know my grandma had breast cancer, and I'm sure I'm okay but I need to be sure. I want to be here for the girls as long as I can without my tits trying to kill me." Rio rubbed her shoulders. He stood up, now standing behind her and rubbing her shoulder blades.

"Don't worry about it ma. I'll go for you." He joked, nuzzling his face into her neck. Her phone rang on the counter and she saw it was one of her girls. Was it ironic that she handled sex work for her husband when she'd just die if one of their daughters was a hooker? Yes. It was also ironic that she was concerned about her tits killing her when she was in the middle of a cigarette.

"Mhm, sexy." She chuckled, running her hand over his crotch before turning around to face forward and. Her bit his bottom lip, brown eyes basically fucking her.

"Hello?" His hands slipped down her sides and up to her chest. Her breath hitched and her legs twitched.

"Go do something with the girls and stop groping me Christopher."

"Ouch." He laughed before kissing her neck once more and slipping out of the room.

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"Why?" Rio glanced at his wife and back at Valentina.

"I don't want to go today." Valentina muttered while picking at the mac and cheese. Pulling her jacket on, she was preparing for the chill of approaching winter.

"What are we paying 400 dollars a month for then? I can't force you to enjoy it but you will go. Did something happen, is someone bothering you at those classes?" Rio questioned. His wife gave him a small glance as if to say 'thank you for stepping in'.

"Nothing happened at ballet. It was school." Valentina lightly kicked the bag with an engraved 'V' on it that they had custom made for her.

"People have bad days baby." Deep down he was worried. Oh God what if she got touched and didn't want to tell them and was running from ballet? What if she's being threatened with violence? What if she's been expelled and didn't want to say? That's just like Valentina not to tell them that. She mumbled something.

"Is someone bothering you? Is it a teacher? A student?" Rio asked putting down the rag he was using to wipe down the counter. Valentina looked down at the table. Now Rio was going to have to fight someones dad. Great, just what he needed.

"You can tell me whose bothering you or I can go down to that school and figure it out." Her mother, was now sitting next to Valentina and looking into her similarly brown eyes. They always looked so similar. Sometimes, when Rio looked at Valentina he felt like he was looking at baby pictures of his wife.

Then Rio noticed it. The small bruise on her arm. It was so small and the color of the bruise wasn't so bad that it was noticeable. Their kid got her ass kicked. He knew Valentina was always the more timid one of his kids, not like the fiery Alvita and calculating Amancia who never hesitated to strike (speaking off, he hoped they weren't fighting someone at after school right now) but he always thought she would never be in a fight. He didn't realize her timid nature would inspire someone's anger.

"V, did you get in a fight?" Tears filled her eyes and before he knew it his wife grabbed her car keys.

"It was Terra! It was Terra and I don't want to see her at ballet!" Terra. Of course it was that little cunt and her whore mom probably encouraged this. His wife has had beef with with Mrs. Lipston since last month at the last pool party they all got invited too by Mr. and Mrs. Kerian. Martha Lipston made her dislike of his wife's new swimsuit very well known to all the other moms.

She also made her approval of Rio's ability to open beers with his teeth very well known. Rio personally thinks Martha Lipston looks like a horror game monster with all her plastic surgery. She was just hating because his wife was fine as hell.

"Put your coat on and lets go." Her mom demanded. Rio glanced over, he knew where this was going. Because his mind was going there too, was actually thinking about planting drugs on Mr. Lipston and calling DCFS on them for child endangerment.

It was a whole family of assholes trust him, dude borrowed his fucking lawnmower and kept it for seven months. Who needs a lawnmower for seven months? He knew his shitty lawn wasn’t growing that fast. Rio refused to buy a new one and just let him keep it like his wife suggested.

Rio was really bugging out over his lawnmower too. He spent nights up, wondering what the hell he was doing with his lawnmower for so long. She’d wake up next to him, asking him if he was still worried about the damn thing? That lawnmower had emotional significance to him and he didn’t like it being gone for so long.

He insisted it was the principal and one morning Rio couldn’t see through the lawn and tripped on a rock. That was it for him, he had to beat down their front door as nicely as he could. Would you believe his lawnmower was broken? How do you break someone’s lawnmower? Why not just tell him that you broke his lawnmower? Rio had half a mind to take him to court over his lawnmower and almost did. That was the last time Rio tried to be neighborly to any of these people, it pushed him to give up on humanity itself.

"I don't want to go." Valentina sniffled and pushed her mac and cheese away.

"Some little white bitch isn't gonna beat the crap out of you, and you're not gonna do anything about it. No, you're going to smack the shit out of her and if her mom tries anything I'm slapping the implants out her chest." He could see the nerves from her. Deep down, his wife was doing this out of a place of fear.

Fear that her kids was gonna get hurt and next time hurt real bad. He remembers how they met too. It was high school, when she got into a fist fight with some girls who had been going back and forth with her and her friends for months.

When she got caught alone, she got knocked upside her head with a padlock and ended up with a mild concussion. He was in the nurses office because he was skipping class in there with a fake headache. When he heard about how she got hit but still held her own, he knew he needed some of that.

Even better was how a week later she hunted down each attacker and beat the snot out of them one by one. To her, the only way to be safe, was the be more dangerous then whatever was about to attack you.

"I'll get thrown out of ballet school mom, please just drop it." "

You'll go." She growled sternly and pulled her earrings from her ears She was ready for a fight but Rio could clearly see that his daughter was not. She must've been hit something fierce.

"I don't want to get kicked out!" Her tiny voice cracked and her mother stopped for a moment of hesitation.

"Enough. Just enough both of you. Valentina, your mother is doing this because she loves you. She wants that little girl to know she doesn't just walk all over you and get away with it. I'm not sorry to say in this house you don't get your ass beat that way and deliver no punishment.

You don't have to get her in class, but you will have to face her again. In school, ballet class or in the parking lot of your school. How you do it is up to you. Fight her, we can go to the school or whatever but don't take something like this laying down." Valentina looked down with a huff. He ran a hand over her small one and she glanced softly at it. Then he focused on his wife. She glanced down and was chewing on one of her nails.

"You know what I'm about to say. Our kid isn't a fighter like us and that's fine. We didn't fight because we wanted too, we fought because we had too every day. We had our share of people trying to whop our asses. You already know that we gave our girls a life where they don't have to fight every day. That's okay. That's what we wanted. You don't gotta force our girls into a life they don't want the way that happened to you. Okay?" She nodded, and looked guilty. Like she felt guilty about her fear of something happening to her little girl.

Rio glanced at the clock, and at this point they were late to ballet. The clock ticked away. Nails scratched away at the counter and Rio waited for one of them to say something. Valentina broke the silence.

"I want to get back at her. But I can't stop thinking about the consequences. What if she tells on me? Or I get kicked out of ballet?"

"So what if she does? If someone hits you, you hit them back. I promise we will not be mad at you no matter what you do baby." Valentina silently nodded.

"I'll get her tomorrow morning in math." Valentina's mother ran her hands through her daughters braids and pulled her into a hug. Rio couldn't fight the smile that spread across his lips. He would count this as a win in the dad book.

"Okay. Do whatever you have to do for you. And keep your head up no matter what."

An understanding from the mother who always felt she knew best for her kids. Some fight put into their daughter. An ass whopping tomorrow morning. Maybe they weren't the best parents yet, but at least they were getting somewhere.

Tag List:

@eddiemunsonreader

@lanninyc

If you'd like to be added to my Rio taglist please lmk in the comments <3

#black reader #x reader #x black reader #fem reader #rio good girls fanfiction #rio good girls #rio x reader #rio x black!reader #rio x you #parenting #multifandom account #i'm black #pls send requests

[lcvejoy]

speak now

wilbur soot x gn!reader

tw!: alcohol, throwing up, angst? hurt/comfort. kinda makes no sense; not proofread.

word count: 1,336

a/n: i hate this but i rlly just wanted to post bc i miss it. more stuff coming! this is just to get me back into the groove of writing and sharing lol. clearlyyyy i write too much angst im sorry i just thrive in it. ill write more fluff! expect more!

wilbur is lying on the vinyl kitchen flooring when he calls.

he’s wine drunk and crying like an overtired toddler. wails of grief and laboured breaths, clutching his phone with one hand and gripping his hair with the other. the cold surface of the floor giving him some relief for his overheated body.

“hey, you’ve reached y/n! i must be super busy, but leave a message and i’ll get back to you when i can!” he’s heard that voicemail hundreds of times this week. he loves hearing your voice, even if only through a phone speaker.

“baby?” he sniffles, wiping his snot on his sleeve, “hey darling, hey y/n.”

a shaky breath, “listen i-“ he looks at at the ceiling, silently cursing himself, “i need you to tell me where you are, okay?” he catches a sob before it escapes, trying to display strength. “we’re all so worried about you. i-i’m so worried about you.” he’s dizzy, the room is spinning now. he reaches his hand out to lay flat against the floor in an attempt to steady himself.

“just call me. or text one of us. anyone. w-we just want to know you’re okay.” wilbur can no longer hide his misery. his voice is wobbly and it cracks at the beginning of each sentence.

“i love you, y/n. i-i love you so much it hurts.” he begins to feel the bile rise in his throat, “come home, okay?” he hangs up. he gets up from the floor on shaky legs, stumbling his way to the bathroom, and lets out of the contents of his stomach. he’s coughing and spitting, hugging the toilet and resting his head on the side of the seat.

he flushes the toilet and scoots back to lay his back against the opposite wall. he leans his head back, closing his eyes, before crumbling again. loud sobs, fat tears, hiccups and laboured breaths. the pain and grief hits him like a train.

there was an argument between you two the night you left. he hasn’t seen you since, and nobody has heard from you. your phone, however, has remained on - proven by the fact that wilbur has been able to leave you voicemails and each of his texts deliver. both, however, go unanswered and unread.

he is riddled with guilt - his brain playing every possible scenario. hurt, kidnapped, murdered, lost, alone. although, his hopeful side prays you’re at your parents house and you just don’t want to talk to anyone.

he picks up his phone and calls again. he leaves more voicemails. he does this for hours until he’s sober with a pounding headache and a broken heart.

until, finally, “wilbur, please stop calling.”

you answer. he’s frozen, sitting up from his leant over position quickly.

“y/n?” he’s convinced he’s hallucinating, that this isn’t real, that you didn’t actually pick up your phone.

“i’m fine, wil. i’m safe. please stop calling and go to sleep.” you seem annoyed, your voice is heavy with exhaustion; like he’s woken you up multiple times with his constant calls.

“w-where are you?” he’s frantic.

“i’m safe.” you respond, sternly.

“stop calling, wil.” it comes out like a warning.

“are you going to come back?” he asks, the emotions bubbling in his gut, “please, y/n. please come home.”

he hears you sigh. he holds his breath as he waits for your answer.

“i’m sorry i worried you” you began, “i just needed some space. i’m coming home in a couple days.”

wilbur falls apart with relief. he cries without the pain and grief present.

“we will talk more about it when i come back. just-“ you pause.

“just give me some space, okay? get some sleep.” you speak gently.

he nods, wiping the tears spilling down his cheeks.

“i love you” he sobs.

“i love you, too” you whisper. you hang up, and wilbur cries more.

two days later, wilbur hears keys jingling at his front door as he sits on the couch. he rises to his feet so quickly that he stumbles slightly, nearly tripping. he watches the lock switch, the door handle twist, and the door begin to slowly swing open. he’s frozen as he watches, wide-eyed.

you walk in, a small bag in hand. you haven’t yet noticed wilbur’s presence as you lock the door and remove your shoes, setting your bag down on the floor next to you.

finally, you look up. you freeze upon meeting wil’s eyes. you both stand there - staring in each others eyes, mouth slightly agape, feet planted in place.

wilbur’s mouth opens as if he’s going to say something, but the words get caught in his throat. he gulps, feeling the emotions rise to his eyes.

“hi wil” you break the silence with a small whisper.

his lip quivers, a tear falls down his cheek.

“hi” his voice cracks as he whispers back.

there’s a beat of silence as you both remain solid in your places. wilbur is silently crying, staring at you. you can feel your eyes welling with tears as you speak again; “i’m sorry i left” you begin, “i just needed some space. i should’ve told you where i was going. that was incredibly selfish of me.” you look down, your fingers anxiously playing with the hem of your shirt. you swallow before beginning again, “it killed me to not talk to you, but we both needed time apart.” you look up to meet wilbur’s eyes again. he has tears steadily streaming down his cheeks, his mouth is slightly open. you are finally taking in just how broken he looks; his hair is a mess, he has dark eye bags as if he hasn’t slept since the night you left, his skin is pale and dry. you feel like the shittiest human being on earth for having caused him this pain. you quickly wipe the tear that falls from your eye.

wilbur gulps again before speaking in a hushed voice and broken tone; “i never want to go that long wondering if you’re okay again. w-wondering if i’ll ever see you again. i-“ a choked sob leaves his lips. he breathes deeply before continuing, “i was s-so scared that the only time i would ever hear your voice again was through your voicemail message.”

you can’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks as he speaks. you nod as you look down.

“i’m so sorry” you crumble, both of you letting out soft sobs and hitches of sharp breaths.

“let me hold you” wilbur speaks up, “please, l-let me hold you.”

all you can do is nod. the words won’t form. so you do; you nod as he quickly steps forward.

and as he reaches you, he pulls you into him. his hands wrap themselves around your middle as his head buries into your neck. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull your face into his chest, breathing him in. you can feel his hot tears on your skin and his body jump as he lets out quiet sobs.

you stand there, in the living room of your shared apartment, holding each other and crying together for an unmeasurable amount of time. until eventually, the sobbing subsides and all that is heard is sniffles.

wilbur pulls away from the hug and instead, brings his hands to your face and rests his forehead against yours. you hold his forearms and close your eyes. you missed this - you missed being close to him, feeling him, smelling him. you missed him.

he missed you equally as much.

“never again” he whispers, as his thumbs begin moving against your cheeks.

“never again” you repeat in an equally quiet voice.

you both smile slightly. wilbur moves his head up to leave a long, lingering kiss on your forehead before returning his forehead to yours.

a silent vow of forgiveness, a silent vow of “i’m sorry.”

and yet, there is a quiet but heard vow of a promise to never let this happen again.

#wilbur soot #wilbur soot x reader #wilbur x reader #wilbur soot fic #dsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt x y/n #mcyt #wilbur x you #wilbur x y/n #wilbur soot x y/n #wilbur soot angst

[thegettingbyp2]

could you do later seasons spencer x new bau reader but reader is very much sunshiney and ever since prison spencer is more black cat this can be ethier smut or fluff I just like the idea

hope this makes since lol

I Never Used to be Like This

Before you joined the BAU, you had heard so many amazing things about all of the team members, past and present. However, you were most excited about meeting Dr Spencer Reid. From what you had heard, you thought that the two of you were going to quickly become fast friends, you had so much in common you thought that your friendship was an inevitability.

That all was tipped upside down on your first day on the job.

You had made sure that you got to the office early, not wanting to risk being late on your first day, ending up with you being the first one in the office. Soon, the rest of the team began to file in, each and every one of them welcoming you with open arms and making you feel at home instantly. Once you’d been introduced to everyone, you couldn’t help but notice that Spencer hadn’t turned up yet.

‘Spencer’ll be here soon,’ Luke said, handing you a cup of coffee, ‘he’s just had a rough couple of months, he’s not fully back to himself yet but he’ll get there. He’s a great guy though, the two of you will get along like a house on fire!’

Not long after, a tall man walked into the office and you couldn’t stop your breath from hitching in your throat when your eyes laid on him, causing Luke to let out a snot of laughter into his coffee cup. The man had longish brown hair that was just the right side of messy and he had a smattering of stubble littering his lower jaw. Wanting to make a good first impression, you headed over to where he was setting his messenger bag on top of his desk and held your hand out towards him.

‘Hi! I’m (Y/N), I’m new, you must be Spencer,’ you said cheerily, your enthusiasm dimming slightly when he looked down at your outstretched hand and waved at you slightly in return, a tight-lipped smile on his lips.

‘Dr Spencer Reid, nice to meet you,’ he said before turning his back to you and sitting at his desk. Not quite knowing what to do, you let your hand fall limply to your side as you made your way back to your desk and continued to set everything up, trying hard to ignore the embarrassed heat that had rushed into your cheeks.

---

You had been a part of the BAU for three weeks now and you were almost completely settled in; the only thing that still set you on edge was Spencer Reid. Ever since your first interaction, the two of you had barely spoken, Spencer always making sure the leave the room as soon as it was only the two of you. You tried not to let it bother you but you couldn’t help but wish you knew what you had done wrong in your first interaction with him.

It was late on a Friday night and you and Spencer were the only two people left in the office, everyone else having decided to leave early to get a head-start on their weekend. You were sitting at your desk, going through the pile on reports you had to get through while Spencer was in the boardroom, studying the evidence board that had been left up. All of a sudden, you heard a loud bang sound on the window. Turning around in your chair, you saw Spencer standing in the middle of the room, surrounded by paper scattered on the floor.

Without thinking, you jumped up and rushed into the boardroom, wanting to check that Spencer was okay.

‘What happened in here?’ you asked, leaning against the doorframe.

‘Nothing,’ Spencer muttered, keeping his back towards you as he bent down to start picking the papers up. You pushed yourself off of the doorframe and moved into the room to help him. ‘I don’t need any help,’ Spencer said, a cold sound to his voice that seemed to push you over the edge.

‘Seriously, Spencer, what have I done to you?!’ you exclaimed, making Spencer finally look at you. ‘Ever since I started here, you’ve seemed to have gone out of your way to make me feel unwelcome, you’ve spoken to me once and that was when I introduced myself. What did I say that pissed you off so much?!’

Spencer was quick to cut your sentence off by pulling you into him and crashing his lips onto yours. His grip was harsh on your hips as he held you against him as his tongue licked into your mouth. Your fingers came up to thread through his hair, a small growl coming from Spencer’s throat when you tugged lightly. Almost as quickly as it began, Spencer roughly shoved you away from him and ran his hands through his hair, watching as your chest moved up and down while you tried to catch your breath.

‘Spencer what’s going on?’

‘I’m not…good anymore,’ he said quietly, almost as if he was struggling to find the right words.

‘What do you mean?’ you asked, moving closer to him and tentatively taking his hand in yours. You watched as Spencer’s shoulders seemed to relax at the feel of your hand in his and he sighed heavily before leading you both over to some of the chairs that were around the table.

‘I never used to be like this. Prison changed me. I used to be this clean-cut, good guy and I just feel that prison kind of squashed that out of me and when I saw you on your first day, I knew that there was no way I could let myself near you because I’d never want to pull myself away and you don’t deserve that. You deserve someone who is good and doesn’t have a criminal record.’ He said the last part of his sentence under his breath, almost as if he didn’t want to admit it for himself.

‘Spencer, I don’t care that you went to prison, why would I? And you definitely don’t have the right to decide if you’re good for me or not, that’s a decision I can make for myself.’

‘You’re right,’ Spencer said heavily, ‘I’m sorry.’

You tried your luck and inched closer to him and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, your heart clenching in your chest when you heard his breath catch as you felt him lean into you. ‘Can we start again?’ you asked, your faces inches apart.

‘I’d really like that,’ Spencer whispered in reply.

You smiled at him softly before leaning back and holding your hand out to him. ‘Hi, my name’s (Y/N), I’m new here.’

‘Dr Spencer Reid, it’s really nice to meet you (Y/N),’ he said, smiling at you as he took your hand and shook it.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds

[luvtak]

you can hear it in the silence, njm

✧ pairing na jaemin x reader

✧ genre/tw est. relationship, crying, reader is drunk weeping lol, fluff fluff fluff!! suggestive at the end, reader is described to be smaller than jaemin, basically you love jaemin so much you can't stop crying about it and he loves you too!!

✧w/c 1216

✧ a/n cooked this one up after weeks of writing nothing lmao, i love jaemin and thats what started this. i hope you love reading it as much as i liked writing it <3

You wonder how silly you look, eyes flooded and nose pouring out snot.

It’s not the crying that’s silly, it’s the reason for the tears—your boyfriend’s smile spread miles across his face laughing at his friends. He just looks so beautiful, every bit of the boy you fell in love with those months ago shifting and changing himself into the version he is now. Always so gorgeous and so kind that you can’t help being moved to tears by this joyful vision of him.

Maybe it’s the alcohol coursing through your system pushing past playful debauchery and welcoming melodrama, or maybe it’s just that you love him.

You love him so much you find it hard to talk about, only letting out the words in the quiet cathedral of your home together. Jaemin doesn’t seem to mind, carrying enough confidence in his affections for the both of you—he’s fluent in love, knows how to carry a conversation in his heart and his body, knows all the slang terms and cultural practices; he’s an expert at love, even more so at loving you.

Somehow, he always knows exactly what you need, handing you a cup before you can say you’re thirsty, calling you at the precise time you leave to walk in the dark, kissing you right before you say his three favorite words. So, it’s not surprising when he looks up to see you with tears spiraling down your face.

Although, he can’t tell if their happy tears or not. He thinks in some part of himself that they must be, that if you were so heartbroken you would’ve parted the crowd of people to get to him—or worse fled outside or to a bathroom, somewhere to cry by yourself. But you look so sad. A picture of pain, standing all alone in a corner—bliss and mischief touching everything but your tragic little bubble.

Without warning, Jaemin finds himself rushing to you, offering only a short see you later! Before separating himself from the boys surrounding him. You’ve caved into yourself, crying and sniffling about something he couldn’t understand, what happened in the forty minutes he’d been away from you to make you like this?

“Hey…hey, look at me. What’s wrong? What’s on your mind pretty thing?” his voice so quiet in such a loud room, the deep timbre of it reverberating through your shaking frame. It cuts through the electronica coming from the speakers and finally your eyes meet. And there he is, your disgustingly pretty boy. So handsome and darling even with worry in his eyes, boyish beauty covering every inch of him. How you love him, and this love only makes you cry more: barely getting your words out,

 “Oh, it’s nothing Jaemin, I just love you.” Your speech is slurred and spluttered out, almost indistinguishable from the whimpers and sobs from before, but he hears you. He thinks his ears must be fine-tuned to your voice because there is no other way he should’ve been able to decipher your upset dawdling’s.

 “You silly creature, why would you cry over me?” “Jus- just love you that’s all. Can’t believe you love me too.” Your words end in a huff, blanketed by the sound of his arms pulling you in. He’s so tall, bigger than you in every way and yet you fit together like a puzzle. His arms caging you in, pressing so close to put your ear to his heart. It’s beating so fast, pulsing beneath your head in an uneven rhythm, he must’ve been so worried. It makes your head hurt a little thinking about your sweet summer boy looking up to see you like this, rushing over for nothing but the drunk ramblings of someone who should probably be in bed.

“So, these are happy tears?” a nod given hesitantly from you in response, you aren’t quite sure they are happy—more of a mix, a bittersweet concoction of future happiness and past regret that you can’t seem to name. “Promise?”

“Yes, Jaem, I promise.” it’s only then does he let up, pulling you away from his chest for just a moment to look at your tear-stricken face. He loves every version of you, but he wished he didn’t have to see this one; Sleepy and sad and crying over silly things.

“I love you so much, and I’m glad you know… even if it makes you cry all alone at parties.” Your smile is a shot of spring, giving new life to the previous tragic picture of it. He wishes you were alone, free to love you in all the ways he needs to. He knows these party patrons won’t mind, but you would, and he’d hate to make you uncomfortable in any way even if it is just a kiss in a crowded room—you’d care, so he cares.

He knows you need to leave, knows this loud pulsing of music is doing nothing to calm the storm in your head, he knows he needs to be sensible. With one last embrace, whispering his true feelings, he offers you his hand and says, “Let’s go home, huh?”

The walk is fast, but the night chill bites. Sobering you from the inside out and forcing the two of you to stand together like you’re in a three-legged race—laughing and stumbling into the dark. He jokes and teases and wishes for your smiles, not daring to kiss you until your eyes light with happiness instead of this strange melancholy you found yourself in. When you finally grin up at him, he thanks God you’re alone.

 Finally, there is no one around but your boy and the stars, smiling down at you and waiting for your next move. He presses his hands to your face to trace the path your stray tears took. He’s such a pretty boy, alive and electric and in love, and all you can do is kiss him. A slow press of your lips before he takes control, searching for the love on your lips, whittling you down to the bone so the only thing on your mind is him, him, him.

He tells you he loves you too in between kisses, it’s so messy, smiles meeting in the middle and clacking teeth. Kisses so harsh you wonder where your sweet boy went, just for him to shift back—tender hands on fragile skin.

 You think this is what it means to have found your person, trusting your heart and your body in someone else’s hands and walking into the night.

Jaemin’s body is warm, so yours is too; his smile is the crescent moon above you, reflecting off your own until you’re both smiley fools rushing towards your front door. You know what will happen next, you know he’ll show you how fluent in love he really is—show you with his hands and his heart and his tongue, how he’ll tuck you in and tell you his three favorite words. You know you’ll wake up to his love again, surrounding you like the early morning sun and making you cry tears of pleasure instead of bittersweet pain.

You know you’ll be happy and in love,

and when your pretty boy tells you, I love you sweetheart, you’ll say it back.

You are in love.

© luvtak

#nct fluff #nct dream fluff #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct x reader #jaemin #nct dream x reader #na jaemin #nct dream #nct #✧ drabble

[puppetmaster13u]

I’ve been thinking about this a lot and basically Danny is Beelzebub from Hellva boss with his own casino performs and the entrance defies reality and all his ghost rouges come in and go as they please and some humans and or mortals stumble in and think it’s just some place where metas party their fucking asses off which wouldn’t be that bad if this wasn’t FUCKING GOTHAM. Danny doesn’t know how they got in Gotham but they just want to party but unfortunately for him the bats hear a rumor some meta trafficking ring has been planning a big raid on a certain casino that’s new ish and they have to stop it so they go in disguise and they get to witness Danny and his rouges beat the every loving snot out of some traffickers

maybe Danny is a clone, maybes he’s reincarnated, maybe he lost a bet, maybe he moved to Gotham for fun, maybe he got tossed across the universe into Gotham

who knows certainly not Danny

but to add even more maybe he travels around the casino on trapezes and circus rings that he just flips around it and has a pole it the middle that reaches the ceiling and at the top there’s this disco ball thing that he can activate to make a small nebula or stars surround the casino and make it pretty

oh oh and maybe with him having the title of beelzebub is like gotten after he beat them as in right of conquest, or maybe beelzebub is kinda like a shared name so Danny fuels them and they go around getting mortal action without having to do work, or maybe it was given to him as a present with a bow on top idk

I have no words for this and just had to draw because the idea of a casino or whatever with like, everywhere looking like galaxies and auroras that shift to the music was such an amazing visualization lol

#dcxdp #dpxdc #ask answered #Honestly love the idea of it being a shared name #Y'know what would be fun #If it's a title that can only be given or used by Halfas #because the realms/lairs/etc have to be in both the living and the realms #so only halfas can claim them and gain the title #or something lol #I want to say this is young adult to adult Danny who has a more healthy rivalry with Vlad #omg Ellie has a travelling ghost circus instead of a casino #Dan has a fancy bar with a fighting ring in the center #some of those meta traffickers get tossed to him probably #idk what Vlad would have as his Beelzebub domain #idk why my brain went strip club lmao #BUT i do like the idea of ghosts being able to feed on emotions #and Halfas being able to do so as well alongside eliciting certain emotions in their domains #why yes Danny has four arms #honestly i should have given him floating ice horns too #or maybe they're only visible sometimes lol #prompts? #prompts

[blu-oo]

Buggy was Roger’s good luck charm

So I’ve had a headcanon for a while now concerning Buggy and his place on Roger’s crew. It’s no secret that both fans and characters within the One Piece world will look at Buggy and go “How/Why the fuck were you on Roger’s crew?” Hard to say definitively whether or not Buggy actually has good luck considering the absolute hell he has to go through in order to face plant into his power/status, but you still can’t argue that he gains things he is 100% undeserving of lol. Oda’s trolling aside, let’s say that his failing upwards IS purely a result of him having his luck stats set to fucking max with a few buffs tacked on. We can even make this more fun and say the reason Buggy’s luck is so paradoxical is BECAUSE his luck goes to others instead of being reserved for himself (either that or the only reason “failure” is tacked onto this is because Buggy is a jackass and karma doesn’t sleep on her prettiest degenerates). I can see this going down a few different ways:

Maybe they were on an island along the grand line and came across a vendor selling good luck tokens. An ornate looking box catches Roger’s eye, and the vendor starts gushing about how it’s their most “luckiest item” and that it’s very VERY much worth the hefty price tag. It’s also most definitely “a worthwhile investment, trust me! It’ll all pay off in the end!” Whatever that means. Roger’s gut feeling doesn’t need to be told twice, so he buys it. This could be a moment similar to Shanks where they take the box back to the ship only for “SURPRISE! CHEST BABY!” :D to happen again. Roger is no longer allowed to go shopping/haul treasure back to the ship without Rayleigh’s stink eye supervision.

Maybe there’s something similar to the Sabaody slave market where he’s being explicitly advertised as a good luck charm. The person selling him shows off his luck by playing simple tricks (like using cards and gambling with onlookers. Look, if you’re gonna try to sell someone's luck, ya might as well make an extra buck while doing so. And hey, this just proves his good luck charm is working). While the seller is distracted, Roger easily sidels up and eyes Buggy’s mean mug. He asks if Buggy is actually lucky and gets a rudely gestured affirmative. “Great!” He says before yanking the kid up and running off laughing. Rayleigh: what the fuck is that. Roger, tankard in one hand, clown child in the other: a beer.

Maybe Roger just happens upon Buggy and and witnesses his luck in action. Sees how instant karma comes to collect after some pompous jerk spits and belittles little Buggy and immediately he’s shamed and humiliated in front of a bunch of people (in addition to Buggy pit pocketing him in retaliation). He witnesses a merchant make snide and haughty remarks and refuses to sell to Buggy because he’s a visible street rat and then immediately afterwards a flock of rabid seagulls dive bomb his stall and peck at his toupee (a piece of bread is flung and lands right before Buggy’s nose). A group of older teens beating the snot out of buggy and stealing whatever he gained that day only to then immediately run into Roger? Well. Etc. etc. etc. Roger sees all this and more and at this point he decides to take Buggy along just because of how hilarious this all is (Buggy’s eventual love for Roger and therefore his luck beginning to include Roger was just an added bonus).

And since this is such a loose concept (and ignoring that Roger was a D so the following woulda happened anyways lol) we can even say that his luck to Roger is the reason for all the success at the end of his career lol. Edd war? Buggy. Living past his initial expiration date? Buggy. Making it to laugh tale? Buggy, except wait- things didn’t go 100% to plan with that one, huh 🤔🤔🤔🤔 and guess who wasn’t there 🤨🤨🤨🤨 im playing or am i

GASP. OR MAYBE HE HAS ABSOLUTE SHIT LUCK AND HE SAPS THAT SHIT OUTTA EVERYONE AROUND HIM EXPLAINING WHY THEY ALWAYS SOMEHOW LOSE OUT IN SOME WAY INSTEAD OF HIM—

#luck is stored in the nose #buggy #buggy the clown #one piece #one piece headcanons #gol d. roger #gold d roger #roger pirates #op #op buggy