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random2908 · 2 years

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Ok, so, what’s an atom laser?

Well, what’s a laser?

There are two types of particles according to the Standard Model of particle physics. They are fermions and bosons. The defining difference between them is that... well, this is quantum mechanics so everything comes in discrete “quanta”--nothing is continuous. There is a minimum amount of (non-zero) angular momentum something can have, and then how much angular momentum it actually has will always be a multiple of that. If you look at the spin of a particle, a fermion will always have an odd-number multiple of that minimum angular momentum, and a boson will always have an even-number multiple (including the possibility of zero angular momentum).[1]

Ok, so what? Well, there’s a theorem--a mathematical proof from the late 1930s--that states that a particle with odd-number multiples of the minimum spin can never be identical to another particle, while a particle with even-number multiples of the minimum spin can.

And by identical--and this is crucial--I mean truly identical. Let’s say you have two pennies. They’re both the same year, they’re both in mint condition with no identifying scratches or fingerprints, how do you know which is which? You put them on the desk in front of you. One has heads up and the other has tails up. Not identical! You can tell them apart!

Ok, let’s say they’re solid color marbles instead. No heads, no tails. One is rolling off the side of your desk, oops! Not identical! One is moving and the other isn’t, you can tell them apart!

Ok. They’re perfectly generic cubes. No rolling. Sitting still on the desk. Oh wait, one is to the left and one is to the right! Not identical, you can tell them apart! But we’re getting closer, maybe these cubes hypothetically could be identical, if you could just get them to overlap with each other so that neither was on the left or the right. (Is that a thing you can even do??)

In the macroscopic world we’re used to, no two things are ever identical, because it’s just not a coherent (as it were) concept. Even if we’ve got a bunch of nearly identical objects we’re dealing with--a sack of pennies that we’re flipping to be either heads or tails; a bag of bouncy balls that we’ve sent sailing around a room and now have to calculate the probable location of--the idea that something can be truly all the way identical is ludicrous in context... In the microscopic world, though, it is possible for bosons to be fully identical. And when you have fully identical particles, the statistics you need to apply to figure out how a group of them will behave is different[2]. It turns out that if objects can be identical, they are statistically likely to be identical.

Of course, most of the time any given set of objects have way too many variables to become identical. Let's say you have a cloud of bosonic gas. Even if they're all the same element, they're not going to be identical. The particles bounce around to fill their container, because it's a gas, so they're (literally) all over the place spatially. And they move with a whole range of velocities, because they're at non-zero temperature (and the definition of temperature is standard deviation of speed, squared, times some factors). But let's say you could overcome these practical limitations and make them identical. Then you have:

All your bosons have the exact same energy. This means that they're all the same type of particle--you aren't mixing helium-4 with silicon or something, since those have different masses. And furthermore, all internal states (spin; color if we're talking about photons; electron energy level if we're talking about atoms or molecules; vibration and rotation modes if we're talking about molecules) are also identical.

All of your bosons are in the exact same place and moving in the exact same direction with the exact same velocity (and/or they're stationary).

Their wavefunctions are in lock-step. If one of the particles is at the peak of its wave (for ANY wave-like parameter that can be used to describe it), all the particles are at the peak of their waves; and when one reaches its trough, all the particles do simultaneously. In other words, you have a tidal wave, rather than a regular choppy sea.

This isn't quite as hard as it sounds. There's actually a mathematical theorem that says that any one of (a) monochromaticity (same energy; it's called that because for photons, same energy implies same color), (b) same location and direction of movement, and (c) coherence (wavefunction in lock-step) implies the other two of those conditions. So if you can manage to get one of them you can get all of them.

Ok. That's a lot of setup, but we're basically there. What's it called when you meet all these conditions and have basically created a tidal wave out of your bosons? Well, traditionally it's called a Bose-Einstein condensate (BEC for short)[3]. But the BECs that we encounter the most often in our daily lives, and that we have the most uses and applications for, are lasers--BECs where the choice of bosons is, specifically, photons. So, rather than calling a laser a "photonic BEC" it's more common to call a BEC made out of an atomic gas an "atom laser." (Just plain "BEC" is probably even more common, unless you're specifically playing up the ways in which your atomic BEC is like a laser.)

There's a hell of a lot of technology built around lasers. There are two main ways in which having a tidal wave of light, rather than a choppy sea, really helps you[4].

The first is that when a tidal wave crashes, it crashes hard. It's the same amount of ocean you always have, but because it's all in lock step, all hitting at once, all in one spot, it does a lot more damage. Same with a laser, which is why it's much easier to start a fire by focusing a laser beam than by focusing the light from a light bulb. (In fact, because all your photons are in the same place and moving in the same direction, focusing optics just work a lot better with laser beams than with incoherent light.) Laser etching, cutting, and burning are used for so many things--ranging from data transfer onto CDs and DVDs to welding in car manufacturing. This property is also used... er... non-destructively, just as a bright controlled light source for tons of other applications, including things like barcode scanners.

The second is that when everything is in lock-step like that, any interference effect you're trying to get is more or less multiplied by the number of photons you have. It's basically how the tidal wave is so much more visible than any single wave in a choppy sea. And if you have two tidal waves going in opposite directions and they pass through each other, for a moment they're twice as tall, and in another moment they completely cancel each other out, before moving on as if none of it ever happened. Whereas if you have little waves from the wake of a boat passing through each other like that, the exact same thing happens but it just looks like a slight change of your ripple pattern--you can barely tell, just because there's too many different waves with too much going on all at once.

There's also a ton of technology built around this enhanced interference effect, like holograms and laser interferometers. In fact, most laser technologies are interferometric. CD/DVD readers, navigational laser gyroscopes, some of the backend of FIOS fiber communications networks, as well as tons of manufacturing quality-test instruments, and scientific instruments.

Lasers can be divided into two types: pulsed and continuous-wave (cw). In a pulsed laser, light is allowed to build up for a short period of time, and then it’s all released at once as a single large blast of energy, and then built up again. In a cw laser, light is constantly released at a small dribble. Pulsed lasers have reduced coherence[5], so they aren't as good for coherence-type applications. But they're much easier to build than cw lasers, especially at higher energies because you can build up energy and then release it all at once, so they're good for any time you want to burn something.

Back to atom lasers, then. Well, same thing here, it's much easier to build a pulsed atom laser; the first (pulsed) atomic BEC was made in 1995, but the first cw atom laser was achieved just a few months ago, so, 27 years later. That is, it's much easier to take some atoms, turn them into a BEC, do a little experiment on them, release them. Or they decay out of the BEC state itself--a BEC typically only lasts for a few seconds[6]. This is actually pretty good, often when you're looking at a quantum state you're pretty happy if it lasts for 1/1000 of a second before decaying into some other state, or before having something collide with it and knock it into some other state. However you end up losing your BEC, whether because you did something to it or it just died on its own, you just make a new one every few seconds and start over. It's much, MUCH harder to continuously make new bits of BEC that are smoothly added to the old BEC as parts of the old BEC decay out, without any of it being ruined by your experiments, such that you continuously have some amount of BEC to work with. [I was going to write up a long-ass explanation of how a pulsed BEC is actually made, and how a continuous BEC is made, and why it's harder, but I've decided that can be its own post IF I get a request for it. The person who usually requests these posts from me has probably heard a lot of this before so it might not happen.]

There's a lot of cool physics you can study even with just a pulsed atom laser. With all the atoms identical and coherent, basically what you have is 100,000 atoms (or however many) acting as if they were one single atom. A typical BEC can be something like 100 microns across--about the size of a human hair. You can see this thing macroscopically with only moderately expensive lenses and cameras! You can essentially look at a single atom, and do things to it and see how it responds, with standard optics, because it's the size of a human hair. And because it's a quantum-coherent state, this huge macroscopic object behaves quantum mechanically rather than classically. You can split your BEC in half, separate the two halves, and bring them back together and they will interfere: you'll get stripes where there's matter and stripes where there's nothing. Let me repeat that: using (typically) metallic atoms, you get stripes with metal and stripes with nothing by overlapping two pieces, because they interfere. And this is visible on a camera. Here is a photo of it:

Yes, that is literally a photo of two overlapping metallic gas clouds interfering, so there’s places where there’s twice as much metal and places where there’s none. In addition, it's a different phase of matter, and it can be used to simulate other phases of matter, to get even more exotic things. It's a superfluid--a perfect fluid, with no viscosity--but if you tweak it just right you can make it a perfect insulator instead. You can use the fact that it's a very large quantum mechanical object to do all sorts of weird quantum mechanics things, like slowing and storing light. You can entangle large things. The possibilities are endless.

Of course, it'll be a big deal to have a continuous atom laser because you can continuously do all these same experiments--no need to wait several seconds between each data point to build yourself a new BEC. But it's really a much bigger deal than that, because (as I said above) there are fundamental physics reasons why a cw laser--whether an atom laser or a light laser--just works better for certain types of technologies. And in fact, nearly all the technological applications people have in mind for atom lasers are based around the enhanced interference effects--holography and interferometry--that are fundamentally much stronger with cw lasers than pulsed lasers. There are a lot of things that atoms are just way more sensitive to than photons are, such as magnetic fields (which photons are basically insensitive to unless they're propagating through some sort of material that is affected by magnetic fields), and gravity (which photons are barely sensitive to, but atoms, having mass, are way more sensitive to). So now that there is such thing as a cw atom laser, some cw light laser applications can be phased out in favor of cw atom lasers: finally atom lasers can become a real replacement technology that people would actually use in the real world.

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Footnotes below the cut:

[1] The minimum angular momentum is defined as 1/2 a unit of angular momentum. So a fermion would have a spin of 1/2, or 3/2, or 5/2, or whatever, while a boson would have a spin of 0, 1, 2... This makes the math slightly easier under limited circumstances.

[2] If we want to treat a macroscopic situation statistically, that is, if we have a situation where the idea of "identical" just doesn't even make sense as a concept, we use Maxwell-Boltzmann statistics. Those are the statistics we’re relatively used to. If you flip two pennies, according to Maxwell-Boltzmann statistics, you have four possible outcomes each with equal probability: a 1/4 chance of both heads, a 1/4 chance of both tails, a 1/4 chance of the penny on the left being heads and the penny on the right being tails, and a 1/4 chance of vice-versa. This adds up to a 1/2 chance of a mix of a heads and tails, and a 1/2 chance of both heads or both tails.

If you have fermions, objects for which there is such an idea of being truly identical but they can’t do it, we use Fermi-Dirac statistics. Now you can’t get both heads or both tails, so the only possibilities are heads-tails and tails-heads. These are equally likely, and the total probability of all possibilities has to add up to 1, so you have a 1/2 chance of heads-tails and a 1/2 chance of tails-heads, and 0 chance of both heads or both tails. We won’t really get into the implications of this here, the most interesting of which is that if you can manage to turn this into a paradox you get a black hole (in fact, this is how a lot of smaller black holes observed in astronomy are thought to have come about)[7].

If you have bosons, objects which can be truly identical, tails-heads and heads-tails are the same event. So you have three possible events: heads-heads, tails-tails, and heads-tails. As in all the previous examples, each one has an equal probability: 1/3 chance of heads-heads, 1/3 chance of tails-tails, and 1/3 chance of mixed heads-tails; this gives you a total of a 2/3 chance of both objects being identical. So once you’re in a situation where objects CAN be truly identical, you have an enhanced probability that they WILL be truly identical.

[3] BEC is just the really general name. There are a lot of more specific names. "Laser," obviously, if it's made of photons. "Superfluid" if it's made of atoms, or, hypothetically, molecules (slightly less hypothetical if you look at reduced-dimensional crystals). "Superconductor" if it's made of electron pairs (an electron is a fermion, but two electrons stuck together is a boson because if you add two odd numbers you always get an even number).

[4] There are a lot of scientific applications where the monochromaticity is what really matters, because when you're doing a science experiment the purity of your sample can be important. But most technological applications are about either the coherence or the light all being bunched together (bunched in its non-technical sense).

[5] This is due to the Heisenberg uncertainty principle. In quantum mechanics, a particle's state is never definite, it's always spread between different possibilities. An electron is simultaneously in multiple places at once, for example. The Heisenberg uncertainty principle states that there are certain fundemental parameters a particle might have, and some of them come in pairs. While a particle's state in any given parameter can never been definite, the more definite it is in one parameter, the less definite it is in the other parameter of the pair. For the most common example, position and momentum are paired properties. So an electron might simultaneously be in multiple places at once, but the more localized it is--the less spread out over multiple places--the less can be said about how fast it's going, or in what direction. Conversely if you can get it down to a narrow range of momenta, by cooling it lets say, it's going to spread itself out over a much larger space.

Anyway. Back to lasers. Time and energy are a Heisenberg uncertainty pair. If you have a laser pulse, you have a fairly narrow amount of time over which your laser beam exists, which means you have a wider spread of the energy (color) of your photons--they're going to be less perfectly monochromatic. According to the theorem that velocity spread, energy spread, and coherence are all tied, this means a pulsed beam also spreads out faster, and your coherence is a little less perfect. So when all that matters is sheer power, a pulsed laser is great, you can get a lot of power in that thing for a very brief amount of time. But for applications where coherence matters, a pulsed laser is a bad choice.

[6] A macroscopic quantum state is extremely delicate--hell, any quantum state is extremely delicate--and if the vacuum you're holding it in is anything less than perfect (and there's no such thing as perfect vacuum), the occasional random background gas atom is going to come crashing through and rip your BEC to pieces. Typically BECs are made in vacuum chambers that are only a little more vacuum-y than, like, the moon. Not great, but still about the best we can do with current technology, without going to unnecessary extremes.

But even, let's say, you could make a vacuum chamber without any background gas whizzing around at all. You'd still have background radiation to contend with. Even if you could entirely block cosmic radiation coming in from the outside, the walls of the chamber would radiate blackbody radiation. True vacuum and stuff cannot coexist in the same universe, and our universe has stuff in it.

[7] Pretty much any paradox in physics leads to a singularity, but that's not as interesting as it sounds most of the time. Most of the time, a singularity in physics looks like the calm at the eye of a storm, or that there's no water at the center of the vortex in your bathtub drain. The way you get a paradox with Fermi-Dirac statistics is to pit relativity against Pauli exclusion (a name for the concept that two fermions can never be identical), by creating a situation where either causality or Pauli exclusion has to be violated. Because anything weird in relativity usually manifests as gravity, you end up with a gravitational singularity in this case. Or to put it way more boringly, if you add too much stuff to an already-dense neutron star (neutrons are fermions), it'll collapse into a black hole.

#physics #atom laser #bec #you have no idea how much restraint it took me to only make the post this long #I was digging through old files on my computer and I actually found a powerpoint titled 'atom laser'#although it turned out to be completely unrelated to this

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waxscentedcandles · 1 year

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Videogames are supposed to exist to be a break from stress and a way to vent frustration,,

SO WHY THE FUCK DO THEY ALWAYS AGGRIVATE AND FRUSTRATE ME SO MUCH

I can't even play fucking star dew valley without getting anxious and annoyed, let alone any game with any sort of pressure or imaginary stakes (why do games include pressure and stakes??)

I can't handle life as it is what the fuck am I supposed to use to cool off and enjoy myself that doesn't Bore Me To Death if not games?

I'm so fucking tired and so easily frustrated I can't handle this shit

#and if anyone ever fucking says 'get good' to me in person i will actually strike them physically out of sheer unbridled pent up rage #Fuck This. Fuck You Games. Fuck You Gamers. Fuck Im Gonna Kill Something #Ive had friends that i loved belittle me for the sake of gaming and i tell you now that it took SUCH restraint not to beat them down #its worse knowing that toxic gaming culture has told friends that my being easy to frustrate just makes me an easy target #sickening

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taraolssons · 2 years

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THERE WAS A QUESTION ABOUT HOW MANY TIMES YOU’D NEED TO SLAP A CHICKEN IN ORDER TO COOK IT HNGFSKGS

#a levels #a level physics #it took an ungodly amount of self restraint not to start cackling out loud right in the exam hall #whoever made that question i wanna kiss you on the mouth

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mellowmoonmoved · 7 months

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oops new brainrot

#i spent at least fifteen minutes scrolling the tag it took physical restraint to not reblog everything #oops!

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skzdarlings · 24 days

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the ride ; skz ; chan x reader

original ask: requested by @rosequartsz : chan with the prompt ❛ i want to fuck you so badly. ❜ like the reader is the same age as jeongin so chan kinda feels bad but at the same time he wants to corrupt the reader so bad cushsisjsis

original ask: requested by anonymous : Chan and ❛ please. make me feel good. no one else can like you. ❜ ❛ have a little trust in yourself, i know you can take it. ❜

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: friends to lovers, chan is a little older than reader, reader is not actually that innocent but pretends to be and they both get off on it lol. some not very safe driving lol keep ur eyes on the road. car sex, dirty talk, teasing, corruption play, puuuuure smut. word count: 2400 words.

masterlist. part of the valentine’s day stories series. credit to prompts. requests are closed.

enjoy!

“That’s not fair,” Jeongin says. “I called dibs.”

“Too bad.” You stick your tongue out at him. “Learn to run faster, loser.”

Jeongin scowls, once more relegated to the backseat of Chan’s car. You are sitting pretty in the passenger seat for the fourth day in a row and Jeongin is playfully annoyed about it.

You and your twin brother have been racing into Chan’s car since high school. You are both at university now, but Chan still offers the occasional lift. With storm season making public transit a bigger hassle than it’s worth, Chan has been offering more rides.

Just because of the weather. Not any other reason. Of course.

You smirk, casting a side-glance into the driver’s seat. Chan is smiling at Jeongin through the rearview mirror, looking less like Channie, the boy of your teenage fantasies, and more like Bang Chan, the man of your adult dreams. He is wearing a baseball cap and leather jacket, his whole demeanour oozing an effortless masculinity, the bearing of a competent man who knows he can do anything.

And still, despite his well-earned cockiness, he has an undoubtedly shy side. When he looks at you, the tips of his ears flame an embarrassed, fiery red, and his dimpled smile is almost boyish in its sweetness.

“Right then,” he says. Then, like the endearingly cheesy goofball he is, he adds, “All aboard, ready for takeoff!”

“Jeongin,” you say, blinking innocently at your twin through the mirror. “You have your presentation notes, right? You don’t want to forget them.”

Jeongin double-checks his bag but you already know he won’t find them. You deliberately took them out and placed them on the kitchen counter.

“Damn,” he says, quickly unbuckling his seatbelt. “I thought I put them in here. Sorry, I’ll be right back.”

Jeongin practically flies out of the car and up the driveway, leaving you and Chan. It happens quickly, before Chan can even compute it. You can see the gears turning in his head, but you are faster, sighing melodramatically while gathering the hem of your skirt.

“Silly boy,” you say. “What should we do while he’s gone?” You draw your skirt up your thighs just enough to tease the skin of your upper thighs.

Chan is staring there with his mouth open, his words evaporating on his tongue. He clears his throat after a second, ripping his gaze away. He looks across the dashboard and laughs, a shy, awkward laugh.

“Your brother will be back in a second,” Chan says. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, yeah?”

He is white-knuckling the steering wheel, like all his restraint is being poured into that physical grip. Even so, it is not hard to pry his hand off the wheel. You know a stronger, more belligerent shove could not bend a determined Bang Chan, but the softest touch from your gentle hands will have him breaking in seconds.

You are slow, casual despite your racing heart, guiding his hand onto your knee. He makes a little noise that turns your whole body to pure, liquid heat. You make a similar sound, a faint whimper in the back of your throat, as you slide his hand up your thigh.

“Channie,” you say, your too-sweet, too-innocent voice part of your acting, but your breathlessness undoubtedly real.

“Don’t—” His voice breaks and he clears his throat. “Don’t say my name like that. You know—”

“What do I know, Channie?” you ask, blinking at him with wide eyes while you curl his fingers around your thigh. You bring your legs together, holding his hand between them.

He visibly swallows, throat bobbing. The redness has spread from his ears down his neck.

“We’ve talked about this, baby girl,” he says, his tone stricter, taking on that darker edge that makes your heart – and everything else – gush. “We’ve been good so far, okay?” If stolen kisses, open zippers, and groping touches count as good. “You’re my – you’re my friend. You should be like a little sister or something to me… yeah? Yeah… Yeah!” He shakes his head, pulling himself out of the distraction caused by you unzipping your jacket. He squeezes your thigh, a firm, warning grip. “Don’t make this so hard,” he says.

“What’s hard for you, Channie?” you ask, reaching into his lap and touching his thigh, then higher, finding the evidence of his words. A shiver moves across his shoulders, his breath catching as you cup your palm around the bulge in his jeans. “Is it something I can help you with?” You lick your bottom lip then smile.

“Oh,” he says. His eyes crinkle with amusement but there is a score of different emotions on his face, all of them smoldering. “You really wanna play that game, huh?”

There is no chance for an answer because Jeongin returns, hopping into the car with his notes. You and Chan separate, looking out the dashboard window. You pat your hot skin and try to slow your racing heart.

Sensing the oddly silent tension, Jeongin narrows his eyes and looks between you. Eventually, his expression sours like he smells something bad.

“Oh my god,” he says, then punches Chan in the shoulder. “Are you fucking my sister!”

“What!” Chan says, getting redder by the second. “Jeongin, how could— I wouldn’t— I don’t—”

“What, you don’t fuck?” Jeongin asks, then laughs until he is wheezing. “You can do better, man.”

“Jeongin, shut up!” You reach back to smack at him, rubbing your hand all over his stupid face and messing up his hair while he wails in protest.

“All right, all right!” Chan says, breaking you up. “Let’s just… let’s just go, okay? Okay.”

“Yes, daddy,” you say, mostly out of spite.

Chan squeaks.

Jeongin pretends to gag then slumps against his window.

“I’m gonna need to start taking the bus,” he says, morose.

Fortunately, thanks to the impromptu revelation of your shenanigans, it does not take much convincing for Jeongin to find another ride home. When Chan pulls into the campus parking lot to pick you up, you approach his vehicle with a grin and a wink.

You slide into the passenger seat, smoothing down your skirt while he sighs. It sounds more amused than frustrated.

“Where’s your brother?” he asks.

You shrug with theatrical exaggeration.

“Right,” Chan says, starting the car. “Got it.”

He puts a hand on your headrest to leverage himself, looking out the rear window as he reverses the car. That proximity alone gets you hot, the temptation to grab him already strong. You play a patient game, as always, stealing glances and suggestive smiles while he drives.

Halfway home, you put a hand on his knee. At first your touch is innocent, tracing slow circles on the denim, then you get a little more brazen, fingertips brushing up his thigh.

“Baby,” he says in that warning voice, eyes on the road. Holding the wheel with one hand, he uses the other to stop your wandering ascent.

“Yes?” you ask with all that faux-innocence. Rather than fight his touch, you guide his hand to your lap, placing it on your knee.

Unlike this morning, he does not play nice. You make a startled, high-pitched sound when he immediately dives under your skirt, his rough palm pressing down where you are already aching. Your thighs slam shut out of instinct but his hand is where it wants to be, his fingers curled around your pussy in a proprietary touch.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, his voice playfully mean. He grinds the heel of his palm against your throbbing clit. He never takes his eyes off the road. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” you say, though you cannot help but rock yourself against his hand.

“Mmm,” he says, patting your pussy then stroking your thigh, guiding your legs open again. “We’ll see about that.”

You keep your eyes ahead too, pretending not to notice when he glances at you. Then you gasp because he reaches out and tugs the zipper on your hoodie. You instinctively clutch it, wearing nothing but a bra underneath, having taken off your other layers to surprise him. He is the one surprising you, a secret sexy menace under all that shy sweetness. He unzips the hoodie halfway then reaches past the material to squeeze a handful. Your body practically sings under his touch.

“Channie,” you say, breathless again.

“Don’t worry, baby,” he says. “Channie’s gonna take care of you, yeah? Always.”

“Take care of me how?” Your question toys with that false innocence, the little game that gets you both hot, but there is genuine curiosity there too. This game has been escalating slowly over time. You want more and you are starting to get desperate.

Chan looks at you. His gaze moves over your mouth then your body, your skirt rucked up and breasts practically spilling out of your hoodie. He swears, looking back at the road with that red blush on his ears again.

“Fuck,” he says. “I want to fuck you so badly. You have no idea.”

His words have a raw, honest edge. He swallows, hard. You feel like one tightly coiled ball of tension, ready to snap apart.

“Please,” you say in that breathy voice. “Make me feel good. No one else can like you.”

You do not make it all the way home. There is a nearby lookout point at the park, a shrouded parking area that has undoubtedly seen its fair share of hook-ups. Chan parks there and you dive at each other like randy teenagers. You climb into his lap, bumping everything on the console on your way, the honking the horn with your backside for good measure. It makes you both giggle.

Then your laughter is swallowed by hot, desperate, open-mouthed kisses.

“Mmm,” you hum against his lips. You push his hat off his head and sink your fingers in his curly hair. “Channie, please,” you say.

He cups the back of your neck, holding your head where he wants it so he can kiss you thoroughly. His ravishing touch leaves you shaking with need, rocking against him to no relief.

“Poor baby,” he says with a little laugh, squeezing your neck then drawing his hand down the curve of your chest. He unzips the rest of your hoodie. His mouth follows the same path as his hands, down your chest and back up again.

He is working you up, deftly and swiftly, using just a few well-placed throat kisses, a few flicks of his fingertips across the sensitive peaks of your breasts. He seems so composed under you, other than the flush to his complexion, the heat to his skin that has him shedding his leather jacket. You feel completely undone, half-naked and writhing in his lap. Your hands tangle together, fumbling around his belt.

“Let me,” he says. He gets his belt open and his fly undone, then his hands are on you. He doesn’t just tug your panties to the side but rips them apart, snapping the seams like they’re nothing. Then those strong fingers are inside you, finding just how wet and ready you are for him. He makes a low, guttural sound, thumping his head against the headrest. “Fuck, baby girl,” he says. “You know what you do to me?” he asks.

“I dunno, Channie.” You pout and bat your eyelashes. “You better show me.”

He laughs. He holds your hips and moves you, positions you where he wants you. You are pressed so close together, chest-to-chest, so you cannot see when he finally enters you. But you feel it, hot and hard and filling you, stretching you, almost painful but burning so good. You slap a hand to the roof of the car, eyes closing as you moan.

“S-so much,” you say, because it feels like you have been sinking forever and he is still not all the way inside.

“Yeah, I know, baby,” he says. His thumb is expertly circling your clit while your whole body seems to soften, changing to fit him, like you were made for this moment. “That’s it,” he says. “Have a little trust in yourself. I know you can take it.”

His thrusts are small, his hands guiding your hips over him, grinding him deep inside you. Then you are clutching his shoulders, moaning into his neck as he fucks you slowly and steadily. It is everything you needed and not enough, only spurring more desire. You know you will need him again, the way he needs you. Just the way he says your name as he holds you, as he fucks you, as he takes you apart and puts you together again. It feels like that when you come, when he fucks you through it, saying your name and praising you.

“Good girl,” he says, barely above a breath. “That’s it, baby. Just like that.”

When he gets close, he pushes the seat back. You get on your knees between his legs and take him in your mouth. He comes with a low groan and another breathless slur of your name. Then you are back in his lap and his hands are everywhere, clutching you possessively to his chest. You are both breathing hard, riding the slow come-down of your frantic desperation.

“Fuck,” he eventually says. He seems shy again, giggling as he looks at you with a blush on his face. “We, uh, we just did that, in the car, uh wow, yeah, I, uh—”

“Channie,” you say with a laugh of your own, grabbing his face and kissing him. He smiles into the kiss, returning it with the same tender softness.

You kiss for a long time, ignoring the world around you. Eventually you have to crawl back into your seat and mostly redress yourselves, still smiling and giggling at each other the whole time. Your phone was buzzing in your bag so you finally check it, rolling your eyes at the message there.

You show it to Chan who laughs, blushing again, but nods.

“Right,” he says, “We should probably go get him.”

You laugh too, sending an emoji with its tongue sticking out in response to Jeongin’s message that reads: My ride fell through. When you are done not-fucking each other, can you come back and get me? Thanks. Sluts.

#bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #chan x reader #chan x you #bang chan smut #chan smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #stray kids x you #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz x you #valentinesdaystories

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headkiss · 8 months

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I LOVE the idea of protective Hotch constantly having an eye out for younger bau!agent who’s literally sunshine personified and the complete opposite of him!! Do u think u could write something along the lines of that—maybe him protecting her from something or just their dynamic?

i also love protective hotch!!! tysm for the request i hope u like it baby :D | 1k of fluff, tw for a small burn!

You’d been surprised when you got a job at the BAU. You didn’t have that much faith in yourself at first. Not to say you don’t believe in your skills, but it’s a widely known part of the bureau. A lot of people wanted the job.

And then, there’s Agent Hotchner, unit chief and intimidating though you’re sure he doesn’t mean to be. You were insanely nervous at the beginning.

That was before you started, before the team welcomed you as the new media liaison after Agent Jareau became a profiler. You met Garcia and her collection of fun high heels, Reid and his never ending supply of facts, and you sort of fit right in.

Hotch became much less intimidating. A kind man who cares so deeply for his team that you couldn’t help but like him the way you do. Not to mention the dynamic that built between the two of you.

The small things he does for you that are impossible to ignore. A hand covering the edge of your desk to protect your head when you were searching underneath it for a dropped paper clip, the way he physically places himself between you and danger if he ever gets the chance.

He’s always there, protecting you in ways both big and little, and you enjoy it more than you should.

It’s even brighter on nights like tonight. Drinks and snacks at Penelope’s after a tough case. Nights when you get to call him Aaron instead of Hotch, when he smiles and laughs freely without restraint.

The beep of the oven cuts off yours and Garcia’s conversation, and when she shifts to take care of it, you stop her, “I got it! You’re already hosting, just relax a little.”

“Thank you,” she smiles, squeezing your arm as you walk by.

The smell of food in the oven hits your nose as you walk into the kitchen, humming along to whatever song spills through the speakers.

You pull the oven open, reaching in without thinking and touching the pan with your bare hand. You drop it quickly, metal clanking as it falls back onto the rack in the oven.

“Shit!” You say it loudly, and then, even louder, addressing the team in the next room, “I’m okay!”

They all laugh a little at your reassurance, and then, like they know he wouldn’t let anyone else check on you before him, pretty much every set of eyes in the room lands on Hotch.

He shakes his head and heads to the kitchen, because he would’ve gone either way.

“You okay?” He asks, finding you with an oven mitt on your non-burnt hand, reaching into the oven, and your burnt hand shaking by your side.

“Oh!” You set the pan of nachos on top of the stove and slip off the mitt, turning off the oven and looking at Hotch. “I forgot oven mitts were a thing for a second there. Burnt my hand, I think.”

He’s on you in a second, his hands gently grasping your injured arm, pushing back your sleeve and guiding you over to the sink. His hold is light, never bruising even though you know he has the strength to do so.

It’s the kiss of sunlight on skin.

Aaron turns on the sink, places his fingers under the water to make sure the temperature’s okay before guiding your hand under the stream.

“You still took out the nachos first?” He asks, even when he knows that’s what you’d do, because of course you’re worrying about everyone else before yourself.

“I didn’t want them to burn.”

You’re trying to be brave, though your hand hurts so much there are tears misting your eyes. You’re bouncing on your feet a little to try and deal with the pain.

“How bad does it hurt?” Hotch checks.

Aaron’s felt this sort of protectiveness over you ever since you started. A little younger than him, this ball of light that’s come bursting into his life. You’re always the positive one, even in the darkest situations and he can’t help but want to shield you to keep it that way.

There’s this thing in his chest that tugs and tugs when you’re around, that makes him stand next to you in any room, in front of you in darkness.

“It’s okay,” you say, though your voice cracks a little. “I’m sure you’ve seen much worse, Hotch.”

“Aaron,” he reminds you gently, “and you don’t have to pretend. It’s alright if it hurts, I just wanna help.”

The sink running mingles with the music coming from the next room, the background noise to your moment with him.

“You could bring the nachos out? I told Garcia I would, but we see how that turned out.”

“Okay, I'll bring them out.”

“Don’t forget oven mitts!”

He huffs with a smile, somehow always surprised with how easily you can turn something around. A smile on your face even with tears shining in your eyes and a hand that’s surely stinging.

Aaron carries the tray of nachos and drops them off, then turns to Penelope, “you have a first aid kit?”

“Oh my gosh! Yeah, bathroom cabinet, I can grab it.”

“It’s alright, Garcia. I’ll get it.”

“Is everything okay?”

“Don’t worry. Nothing major, I’m taking care of it.”

He grabs the first aid kit and heads back to the kitchen where you’re still holding your hand under the stream of water.

“Okay,” Aaron sets the kit down on the counter, opening it and then turning off the tap. “Let me see, honey.”

The word melts into you, sticky sweet, and you hold your hand towards him, palm up.

He starts by drying your hand with a piece of paper towel, pressing your skin lightly. His other hand is under yours, his palm against the back of your hand a painkiller in itself.

You hiss when he hits a sensitive spot, and he’s quick to apologize, his voice low and quiet. “Sorry. I’m sorry. Almost done.”

“It’s okay, Aaron. It's not your fault I thought I was heat-proof.”

“You’re cute.”

A smile spreads over your face, your head tilted down to stare and his hands around yours. You watch him spread some Polysporin over your burn, his fingertips featherlight over your skin, soft apologies leaving him every time you flinch a little.

By the time he’s done, the first aid kit shut on the counter, you’ve both forgotten about the rest of the team in the next room. Aaron’s happy to bask in your sunshine.

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pinkcowzz · 1 month

Text

dick had bruce as a partner. there was a mentorship there yes, but at the end of the day dick & bruce were a team.

jason had bruce as a father. bruce took him and made the extra effort. he actually adopted jay and stayed home when jason was sick.

tim had bruce as a liability.

tim went to bruce- bruce never found him. i just really love the idea that because of the difference in dynamic, tim is one of the few people who can shame bruce into compliance so easily.

dick and bruce will get into shouting matches that neither one of them walk away from being satisfied, bruce is an unmovable object and dick is an unstoppable force. when they meet, its not pretty and there is almost always collateral damage.

jason and bruce are like setting off two firecrackers next to each other when they fight. it's loud, it's bright, but it burns off fast. the anger and righteous fury is there one moment but then gone the next.

tim and bruce fight differently, because a lot of the time, tim understands where bruce is coming from. he saw bruce start on his path to self destruction and managed to get him to switch tracks. bruce was never the same after jason's death (what parent is after seeing their child die) but batman was able to correct himself. after stepping into the role of robin, tim understood. he too lost so many people he cared about because of the weight of the cape he wore.

and i think the first time that damian and bruce go head to head, dick may be the one who comforts damian and assures him of his place in the family, but tim is the one who goes to bruce. it's the first time bruce has ever seen tim this angry. tim is seething with a fury that would put the devil himself to shame. he is so angry that he is shaking and bruce can the restraint that tim is using to keep the discussion from becoming physical. tim tells bruce, or rather lectures him, in all the ways that he has fucked up with dick ('kicking him out, never officially adopting him, forcing him to go through with the spyral mission- you treat him as your partner when its convenient but the moment it's not he is your soldier again. its unfair bruce. he's more of a man, more of a father than you have ever been'), with jason ('do i even need to say it? actually, let me address it. you cannot see the forest past the trees. jason isn't who he was before he died. he never will be. same as you. he lost a lot more than his life when the joker blew him up. he lost his innocence, he lost his faith in you. i'm starting to think he may have been right') and with himself ('i love you bruce. i have always cared so deeply about you and your mission. it's why i came to dick in the first place. but this isn't about me.').

and bruce remembers why his relationship with tim is so different. tim trained overseas, tim got to patrol on his own as robin so much sooner than his other boys did. tim was largely unsupervised during his run with the young justice. tim had made up an entire fake uncle to keep his indepence. tim would never argue with bruce about himself in this way, but he would argue about- ('this is about damian. and i swear to god bruce. if you can't pull that stick out of your ass and find a way to apologize to damian that leaves him feeling properly taken care of. superman himself wouldn't be enough to save you from my wrath.')

and it's only later, after bruce does apologize to damian in a way that leaves dick speechless. when barbra happened upon the cave's security footage that she shares with dick who shares with steph who shares with jason that his family figures out just how fitting of a last name that drake is for tim.

#guilt tripper tim drake #tim drake #dick grayson #bruce wayne #jason todd #batfamily #batman #dc comics #robin #red robin #damian wayne #damian is tims little brother #as god as my witness he would do anything for that boy #manipulative tim drake #angry tim drake

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hopelesslygaysstuff · 2 months

Text

pairing: wanda maximoff x fem!reader

summary: wanda maximoff, your domme and girlfriend, tests you with impossible rules, and subsequently punishes you for failing to follow them.

content warnings: obvi smut, restraints, impact play, edging, cunnilingus.

word count: 4k+

masterlist

original request

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

My Good Girl

The afternoon sun cast warm hues through the floor-to-ceiling window, illuminating the cozy office and casting soft shadows across the floor. Wanda sat at her desk, fingers absentmindedly tapping on the dark wood. Lines of text filled her screen, yet her mind was elsewhere.

With a soft hum of contemplation, Wanda closed the laptop, a soft click breaking through the peaceful silence of the room.

‘I want to try something new tonight.’

The text is sent with a soft sound, and Wanda traces her phone slowly as she waits for you to read the message. Her mind is thrown back to the plethora of information she’d spent the better half of the afternoon consuming.

Agatha, one of her closest friends, and a well-known domme, had sent her a few websites to check out. Wanda had let it slip during one of their wine nights that although she was happy with you and the dom/sub relationship you’d built, she wanted to try something more.

You were perfect. Truly. Submissive, and willing to do whatever she said. Wanda loved the thrill she got whenever you obeyed an order.

But you were almost too perfect.

One of the sites she’d pursued was full of dominants sharing the ways they put a bratty sub in their place. Wanda had found herself growing wetter with each post she scrolled through. Her mind had found itself wandering over to you.

You, tears welling up as she choked you with her strap. You, pulling uselessly on scarlet ribbon restraints as she teased you for hours. You, with your face scrunched up as she twisted and pulled on your nipples until you begged her for mercy.

The word mommy, slipping from your lips as you blushed.

Wanda had to take several breaks throughout her afternoon, her fingers slipping below her waistband and sliding over the slick arousal coating her panties. She’d thought of you while rubbing herself to a climax, imagining your wide eyes as you knelt before her…

Fuck. She was getting worked up again.

Her phone dinged, and Wanda had to physically shake herself while she scrambled for her phone. Her fingers trembled as she unlocked the phone, seeing your message.

‘Of course we can! What did you have in mind?’

You were so eager to please, so willing to succumb to anything Wanda asked of you. She took a few deep breaths, typing out her response with one hand while quickly packing her bag.

‘When I get home, I want you naked and kneeling by the door. You will address me as ma’am, nothing else. Understood?’

Wanda could feel herself slipping into her dominant headspace, the thrill of giving orders rushing through her.

‘And if I break one of those rules?’

Oh, it was almost too easy.

‘I’ll have to punish you, darling. I’m on my way home. Remember my instructions.’

Slipping her phone into her pocket, Wanda cast one last look around her office before turning out the light. Locking up, she strode quickly down the hall, thankfully not seeing any other employees around.

The car ride home was agonizing, the heat between her legs growing into an unbearable inferno. Wanda couldn’t help but squeeze her thighs together at the thought of you breaking her rules.

And she knew just the thing to distract you and cause you to slip up.

At a stoplight just outside the city, about five minutes from your shared home, Wanda pulled out her phone. Knowing the light would take a while to turn green, she pulled up the locked photo album hidden in her files. Selecting a photo, she quickly sent it to you with no caption.

The photo was a selfie, the phone propped up against her work computer. Wanda had popped a few too many buttons, the lace of her red bra peeking out from underneath her silk shirt and jacket. Her eyes were locked on the camera, iridescent and smoldering, while the fingers of one hand were wrapped tightly around her tie, pulling it away from her neck. The other hand was resting on her belt, a single finger slipping beneath the waistband of her dress pants.

Wanda let her imagination run wild, imagining the flush creeping up your neck and coloring your face. Your breath would catch, pupils dilating as arousal shot through you. By the time you positioned yourself at the door, your juices would be smeared all over your delicate inner thighs, your eyes pleading and desperate.

The light turned green, and Wanda refocused. Only a few minutes until she'd be home.

The anticipation was killing her.

—

Wanda forced herself to slow her gait, walking leisurely up the steps to the front door. Her heels clicked on the pavement and she hoped that you could hear her approaching.

The door clicked open, the key sliding easily into the lock.

Green eyes found you easily, a pleased smile stretching across those beautiful lips as Wanda observed your kneeling form. Your eyes were just as wide as she’d hoped, your irises disappearing as your pupils dilated further at the sight of her.

“Hello, darling.”

Wanda made sure to pitch her voice low, a sultry tone making its way through her words. Her gaze pierced yours, a silent demand hidden within them.

“Good afternoon, ma’am.” Your voice shook, and you sucked in a shaky breath.

Your hands were placed atop your thighs, palms flat as you subtly parted your thighs. Wanda caught a glimpse of the shiny arousal coating your inner thighs, and she breathed deeply, hoping your scent would envelop her.

“How was your day, sweetheart?” Wanda asked, setting her bag down and slipping her jacket off her shoulders. She hung it up, flicking her fingers in silent order for you to follow.

“It was good, um, ma’am.” You stuttered, crawling after her as she made her way towards the living room.

Seating herself on the couch, Wanda crossed one leg elegantly over the other. You crawled up to her, eyes glancing between her lips and legs. You sat up, posture straight and palms flat, with your fingers thrumming nervously on your thighs.

“And what did my good girl do today?” Wanda smirked at you.

“Oh, I uh…” Your eyes grew distant as you tried to force yourself to focus. “I worked a little bit, and then I made some meal prep for the week, ma’am.”

Wanda raised an eyebrow, “Anything else?”

You wracked your brain, trying to remember what you’d done that day. The only thing running through your mind was the insatiable picture Wanda had sent you. Your mind focused on the captivating curve of her breasts, the smoldering look in her eyes, similar to the one she was giving you now.

“Oh!” You remembered something, excitement weaving its way through your words. “I made you something!”

Wanda paused for a moment, seemingly waiting for something, but you were looking up at her with wide eyes and a satisfied grin.

“Aren’t you forgetting something?” You could sense the satisfaction in Wanda’s voice, and faltered.

“Ma’am.” You blurted out, but Wanda was already shaking her head.

“Too late, darling.”

You paled slightly, but Wanda could see the excitement glowing in your eyes. You were curious, anticipation thrumming through you. The flush on your face was slowly growing darker, the tips of your ears burning as the weight of Wanda’s gaze settled on you.

“Bedroom, now. You know what position I like you in.”

A punishment. That’s what you were receiving. You hadn’t had one of those in a long time, not since the beginning of your relationship with Wanda.

“Yes ma’am.” Your voice was quiet, and you stood, watching Wanda for any sign of disapproval. When she gave none, you turned and headed toward the bedroom, aware of her gaze burning on your hips.

Approaching the bed, you let your hand caress the soft silk of the comforter. Kneeling on top of the mattress, you take a steadying breath, listening for the click of Wanda’s heels.

You don’t have to wait for long. The slow, measured steps of Wanda’s confident gait reach your ears, and you subconsciously straighten your back. Ensuring that your gaze is locked on your hands, you resist the urge to look up when the soft light from the hallway hits your eyes as Wanda enters the room.

“Such a good girl.” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you feel some of your arousal leak out and drip down your thighs.

You don’t speak, knowing that Wanda likes to command every part of you, including your words. Instead, you offer a small smile, eyes locked on her form as she walks toward the closet. She disappears inside, throwing a smile over her shoulder.

A whimper threatens to escape you, but you choke it down. If Wanda heard one errant sound from you, she’d surely increase your punishment. That’s the last thing you want, so you simply resist the urge to shift on the bed and wait.

The minutes stretch on, and you mentally curse your girlfriend out. You knew she was doing this on purpose, building up the anticipation. You want to call out, but your words get stuck in your throat, not wanting to add to your punishment.

So you wait, your arousal building with each minute until the sheets below you are damp.

You hear the door open, the heady presence of Wanda Maximoff filling the room. The sheer dominance that she emanates washes over you, loosening your muscles as your head grows fuzzier.

You can trust her. Wanda only wants what’s best for you.

“You’re doing so well for me, love,” Wanda says, moving onto the bed and kneeling before you. She’s still fully clothed, her buttoned shirt brushing against your skin in a tantalizing dance as she sets a few items beside her. You don’t dare look, keeping your eyes trained on your hands until she commands you otherwise.

“Look at me.”

Green eyes seem slightly softer in the dim light, and you search them for any clue of what the night entails.

“Tell me why I’m punishing you,” The words jumpstart your brain, and you begin speaking as Wanda picks up a silky, scarlet ribbon.

“I forgot one of your rules, I’m sorry, mo…” The word almost slips from your lips, but you clench them shut.

Wanda raises an eyebrow at you, almost daring you to continue. You remain silent, still not ready to use the title you want. Your mind wars with itself, the waves of indecision subsiding when Wanda gently smiles at you and brushes her fingers lightly against your cheek.

Her eyes are soft, and you know that she won’t press the topic. Not until you’re ready.

“And which rule was that?”

“I forgot to call you ma’am, I’m sorry,” You say, your voice earnest.

At your practically whimpered words, Wanda has already forgiven you. However, the thought of punishing you is far too tantalizing, so she picks up one of the silk ribbons.

“And you know what this is, correct?”

“Yes ma’am,” You won’t be forgetting her title anytime soon, and Wanda feels pride shoot through her at your steadfast obedience. She gently pushes you backwards, until you realize what she’s doing.

Positioning yourself on your back, you stretch your arms out toward the headboard, enjoying the feel of the scarlet ribbon around your wrist as Wanda begins to restrain you. Your clit pulses when she tightens the ribbon securely, and you fight the urge to roll your hips.

Quickly fastening your other wrist to the headboard, Wanda waits for you to test the strength. She smirks while you writhe beneath her, attempting to escape. You squirm, your hips restrained by her thighs as she sits atop you, her fingernails scraping lightly down your sides before you give up.

“Thank you, ma’am.” You say, and Wanda’s eyes light up in pleasure.

In one smooth movement, she flips you over, her fingers digging into your hips as she roughly positions you on your stomach. Your wrists cross over each other at the change of position, her hands pulling your body down until you can barely move an inch.

A hand on the back of your head shoves your face into a soft pillow, and you turn your cheek slightly to be able to breathe. Wanda doesn't seem to notice, her attention focused on the item she now holds in her hand.

You catch a glimpse of the paddle and whine. It’s been a while since she’s used that toy on you, and you vividly remember the last experience. You hadn’t been able to sit down for three days.

“Remember your colors, sweetheart.” Wanda reminds you, and you nod into the pillow as her hand gently squeezes the flesh of your ass.

The first strike takes you by surprise, and your body jolts, attempting to escape the sharp sting. You hear Wanda chuckling above you and can practically feel her eyes appraising the bright red mark that the paddle left. Before you’ve recovered from the first hit, the paddle swings down again, pain and pleasure mixing as she strategically places marks across your whole backside.

When the paddle hits the sensitive skin of your upper thigh, you let out a yelp.

“Darling?” Wanda asks. You can’t formulate a response and your breaths are heavy and fast. You tug at the restraints, a soft green tumbling past your lips.

The hits are quick and hard, pain radiating through you even as your clit throbs. You can feel your juices dripping down your thighs and soaking the sheet beneath you. The humiliation of the situation only turns you on more, and it’s not long before you’re moaning softly into the pillow.

A heavy sigh makes its way through you when Wanda pauses, setting the paddle down beside you. “Color,” She demands, her hands cool against your abused flesh.

“Green, thank… thank you,” Your words are breathy, stuttering when Wanda’s fingers graze your slit.

A single finger circles your clit, and you can’t help but push your ass upwards, trying to appease the tension between your legs.

“Oh,” Wanda says, her voice full of mirth. “It seems like you want more, love.”

Nodding frantically, you roll your hips forward.

A sharp pain makes its way through you, Wanda’s hand coming down quickly against your sensitive backside. You let out a half moan, half yelp at the action.

“Don’t rut against the bed like a pathetic mutt,” She practically growls, bringing her hand down sharply a few more times. “You’re practically begging for a punishment.”

You want to complain, you want to whine about the injustice of it all. Instead, you remain quiet, not wanting to risk more pain. You can feel Wanda shifting, and bite your lip when the cool leather of the paddle drags across your overheated backside.

“Do you want more?” Wanda asks, and you can’t do anything but nod. You turn your head, peeking at her from the corner of your eye. Her green eyes are locked on the swell of your ass, and you shudder at the hungry look in them.

“Beg for it.”

The paddle presses against your clit, the pressure sending pleasure coursing through you. Resisting the urge to grind against it, you grit your teeth and speak. “Please, ma’am. I want you to hit me. Punish me, please, I’ve been a bad girl.”

Wanda doesn’t respond, instead raising the paddle and delivering more blows to your aching backside.

You begin to moan, the pain morphing into a sick sort of pleasure. With each blow, your clit is pressed against the mattress, your orgasm approaching rapidly. You know better than to beg, you’d learned long ago that Wanda liked to control every aspect of your pleasure, including when you were allowed to cum.

“Are you close?” Wanda asks, not giving you a chance to respond before she continues to speak, “I can see you dripping onto the sheets, your hips rutting pathetically of their own will. Do you want to cum, baby? Do you want to cum while mommy hits you with the paddle?”

The words worm their way into your mind, twisting your thoughts while pleasure and pain consume your being. Her hits don’t cease, the leather paddle slapping against you over and over again.

The pillow is damp beneath your cheek. You hadn’t realized that you’d begun to cry, and a whine escaped your mouth without your permission. It only spurs Wanda on.

“Oh, you like this, don’t you darling? You like being mommy’s little fucktoy, taking whatever I give you. Say it.”

You barely register her words, something incoherent spewing from your mouth as she delivers the harshest blows of the night. One of Wanda’s hands tangles with your hair, wrenching your head up from the pillow.

“Say it.” Her voice is deadly, low, and raspy. You don’t dare disobey.

“I like it, I like it when you treat me like this. Please don’t stop. Please, fuck.” You cut yourself off, feeling Wanda swing the paddle harshly at the curse word.

“Mommy, please.”

Relief. Your brain starts to work again. The pain radiating from your backside subsides slightly as Wanda drops the paddle to the floor. You feel as though you should be embarrassed, but don’t.

Truth be told, you’ve wanted to call Wanda by that title for a while, and at this moment, it just felt right.

“Say that again for me, darling.”

You feel your body being manhandled again, your hips twisting until you’re on your back again. Green eyes stare down at you, a slightly dazed look in them. Wanda’s fingers trace patterns on your ribcage, moving up to tease your nipples while she waits.

“Mommy,” Your voice is quiet, almost shy, but the word is genuine. “Please let me cum.”

Wanda can’t bring herself to punish you any longer. Not after you’ve finally used the title she’s been yearning for. She finds herself suddenly incapable of speaking, the words catching in her throat.

Surging forward, Wanda presses her impossibly soft lips to yours. Her tongue dances against yours, tracing your lips and drawing soft moans from you. You fight the urge to roll your hips, her thigh pressed perfectly against your center.

Her tongue explores your mouth for what seems like forever, and you find yourself growing wetter with each minute. You can’t complain, though. Kissing Wanda will always be something you treasure.

Eventually, the need for air becomes too great, and Wanda pulls back. Her eyes search yours, a smile slowly stretching across her face.

“Good girl,” She coos, a hand reaching up and cupping your cheek. “Thank you, sweetheart,”

You grin, sure that your eyes are sparkling as you gaze up at her. From this angle, she looks almost angelic, with her hair falling around you. You don’t mind, if you could choose anything to worship, Wanda would be the first and only thing on your list.

“I’m going to make you feel really good now, okay?” She says, not giving you a chance to respond before she’s descending your body. She leaves open-mouthed kisses on your skin, enjoying the way you jolt beneath her whenever she nips you with her teeth.

The bruises she leaves behind fill her with pride and a hint of possessiveness, and she gazes up at you when her mouth finally reaches the glistening heat between your thighs.

“Please,” You whisper, throwing your head back when her tongue applies gentle pressure against your clit.

It’s practically torture, her skilled mouth alternating between sucking and licking your clit as your orgasm approaches quickly. You want to reach down and tangle your fingers with her hair, pulling her flush against you, and tug uselessly at your restraints.

Your hips twitch violently, a sign that you’re close to an orgasm. A few… more… strokes of that talented tongue…

Wanda pulls away, and you whine loudly. Her fingers twist your nipple harshly in response, and you mumble a quick apology.

“None of that,” Wanda reprimands, “you take whatever I give you, remember?”

She doesn’t give you a chance to respond, burying her head between your thighs before you can fully catch your breath. This time, she sucks your clit violently, red-hot bolts of pleasure shooting through you as your thighs tense.

Her mouth disappears.

Giving you a few moments to recover, Wanda watches the realization enter your eyes. You mumble, “You’re going to edge me, aren’t you?”

Chuckling, Wanda circles your clit with a single finger. She watches your eyes gloss over as your hips twitch. Pressing harder, she moves rhythmically over the hard nub, enjoying the moans reverberating around the room. You tense up, lips parting as your orgasm draws near…

“Only good girls get to cum, darling,” Wanda pulls her fingers fully away from you.

You want to scream. You want to curse her out, you want to escape your restraints and hump her thigh until you cum. You want to…

A moan claws its way out from your chest, and Wanda takes that as a sign to continue.

You don’t know how long she edges you, the only thing you’re aware of is the growing arousal between your thighs and the pleasure that builds and builds and dissipates whenever Wanda senses that you’re close.

After a while, the fuzziness takes over your mind, and you lose count of the edges as Wanda’s tongue relentlessly works against your core. She keeps her fingers locked around your thighs, refusing to give your pussy any sort of real satisfaction.

Practically crazed with arousal and desperation, you attempt to roll your hips against Wanda’s lips.

“Do you want me to bring the paddle out again?” Wanda raises a single eyebrow, her hand raising and striking your swollen pussy. The sting shoots through your clit, and you jerk your hips as you recoil from the pain.

“No, I’m sorry mommy. Please…” You moan as Wanda’s warm mouth encircles your clit. “Please forgive me.”

Time blends with the countless edges, and you find yourself lost in a pleasurable vanilla haze. The only thing you’re aware of is Wanda. Her tongue, building you up. Her eyes, watching you as her fingers hold your thighs and hips against the mattress. Her scent, an addicting drug that you never want to abstain from.

Your orgasm, just barely out of reach. Wanda, bringing you closer and closer and…

—

You open your eyes, your vision seeming sharper than before. Warm water surrounds you, suds covering your chest as a warm washcloth gently rubs against your collarbone.

“Mommy?”

Wanda moves into your field of vision, her eyes filled with concern. You smile widely, relaxing further into the water. You want to reach up and pull her face closer, yearning to feel her lips against yours, but your limbs don’t seem to work properly.

“Hi, sweetheart. You scared me,” Wanda’s voice is soft, and you can sense the worry underneath her accent.

“I’m alright, I promise,” You reassure her, resting your head against the side of the tub. “But…” Trailing off, you watch Wanda’s brows furrow in concern.

“I still really want to cum.”

Wanda scoffs, splashing you lightly as you laugh. Allowing yourself to fully relax, you let her wash away your sweat, her hands gentle as she scrubs the dried arousal off your thighs.

“You don’t get to cum tonight, I'm punishing you.” Wanda sounds like she’s about to whine, and you splash her. The water droplets cling to her hair, and you laugh at her pout, your arms working again as you pull her in by the neck for a kiss.

Her tongue dances languidly alongside yours, and you push down the arousal that attempts to rise. Honestly, you’d get aroused if Wanda simply walked into a room. With her lips on yours, it’s much harder to tamper your desperation for her.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Wanda mumbles against your lips, and you roll your eyes.

Eventually, Wanda ends the impromptu makeout session, finishing the bath and drying you off. She applies some aloe vera to your sore backside, kissing the marks softly as she does so.

You’ve never felt more loved.

Sliding in between fresh, cool sheets, Wanda pulls you flush against her. Your head is comfortably nestled in the crook of her neck, and you can feel her heartbeat against your palm.

Gentle lips kiss the top of your head, and you feel yourself drifting off. Wanda hums, murmuring one final thing before you finally succumb to the waves of drowsiness washing over you.

“Happy Valentine's Day, my love.”

---

Dm or comment to be added!

Taglist: @alexawynters @msvenablesbitch @marilynthornhilllover @lifespectator @milkeeteaa @imnotawitch @marvels--slut @justabrokensunshine @dorabledewdroop @wandsmxmff @esposadejoyhuerta

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quicksilverlightning · 2 months

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It took six seasons of Game Changer for Brennan to physically attack Sam and I think that's the level of restraint we should all aspire to have in these trying times.

#dropout #dropout tv #game changer #brennan lee mulligan #bleem #sam reich

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wesstars · 7 months

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hot tea

wednesday addams x fem!reader (no pronouns)

summary: your addams just really needs some physical contact :) wc: 737 tags: established relationship. nevermore ‘university,’ all characters involved are 18+. ooc wednesday. idk something about tooth rotting fluff a/n: first wednesday drabble wednesday, in collaboration with @evilrawr! fluff has been requested by @melrodrigo. still not my strong suit but we’re going for it anyway.

masterlist

Steam rose from the warm mug that you carefully wrapped Wednesday’s fingers around, but the heated ceramic was nothing compared to the searing lance of your grasp around her wrist. She watched as you settled yourself down on bended knee in front of her, respectfully pulling back your hands. Her own twitched, minutely.

It hadn’t been that difficult to come knock on your door, 10 minutes before curfew was over. Wednesday knew you’d be there in your dorm, making something absurdly sweet with your—respectably contraband—electric kettle. You’d stepped aside to wordlessly let her in, and she’d taken her usual seat at the foot of your bed. Strewn around were your day’s assignments, a jacket or two, and she wrinkled her nose at the mess. Your lamps cast a gentle candle-eseque light across everything, blurring every sharp edge. The exact reason why she was in your room, well…

“Long day?” Your gaze was inquisitive but warm, as always. Wednesday watched you, taking in your socked feet and soft pants. Then, she did the Wednesday Addams equivalent of what might be considered a frustrated huff from Enid, or a desolate sigh from you: she looked away first.

The reaction was immediate, she noted absently. You tried to catch her gaze again, the slope of your shoulders and the wring of your fingers imploring her to look back at you. “Weds… talk to me?”

She took a slow sip from the mug, avoiding your eyes. To tell the truth, Wednesday was busy aching in the way that she wished you’d reach across the sea between your knee and hers. Her intense feelings were something that she typically kept locked away, not just with the protection of a key, but with a castle moat, bolted doors, and plenty of booby traps. Inside that cage lay other previously dormant feelings, ones that you managed to pull out, sharp knife to soft underbelly, with startling ease. Wednesday set her mug down on the floor, cocking her head at you. Often she’d feel a baser, visceral urge to blurt out whatever thought she had to you. Restraint was becoming more and more difficult, the more you seemed to flay yourself open in front of her for a perusal akin to autopsy.

There was a muffled thump as you got up just a bit to shift from your kneeling posture, and Wednesday couldn’t take it anymore.

She grabbed the collar of your shirt, pulling tightly until you were about nose to nose. Her mind knew that your actual body temperature wasn’t that high, even lower than the average, but her cold heart felt the bone-deep bonfire of your proximity as your hands slammed into the bed next to her thighs, preventing you from tumbling into her. You took a sharp breath, a fateful one, as it seemed to pull all the oxygen from the room, leaving Wednesday blissfully bereft of that life force. She didn’t need it, anyway; she was convinced she could sustain herself on the dilating of your pupils, the flickering of your eyes down to her lips.

“Come here.” Wednesday’s voice came out in a rasp, but she reasoned with herself—it was the best she could do after you yanked the air out of her still lungs. That ache of absence turned into a yawning chasm, reserve and restraint tumbling down into that eager maw. Her demand fell into that same ravine, eclipsed by the endless depth of darkness.

You stood from your position to sit on the bed as soon as the plea left her, and Wednesday was impressed at your speed. You pulled her into your arms not a beat later. Everything smelled like a faint mix of linen and honey, between your sweater and your tea, and something in it brought Wednesday’s world to a halt. The skin of your collar was warm against the tip of Wednesday’s nose, grounding like the nip of winter air. The two of you fell easily into your sheets, and Wednesday’s mind finally felt like it had found the smoking gun for the investigation. It settled like a content cat right in her diaphragm, making it easy to breathe you in.

“Is this what you wanted?” Your voice, already sleepy, sent vibrations down Wednesday’s spine. She hummed back, leaning her temple up against your shirt and letting her head fall onto your chest. You didn’t say a word more; you didn’t need to.

a/n cont'd: so... playing with words… what do we think :0

please do not repost, reproduce, copy, translate, or take from my work in any way. thank you!

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lunarw0rks · 8 months

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Simon would have a rough time trusting another person enough to have sex.

can you write something about his first time with the reader where he asks about consent for almost every move he makes?

I'd love a gender neutral reader but afab is good too��️❤️

♡ PART TWO ♡ PART THREE ♡

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ first-time with simon ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆ // warning(s): nsfw, gn!reader

it took long for him to admit his feelings for you. took even longer to do anything resembling intimacy. it's the deepest connection for him, though he doesn't look the type.

it's everything to him, and nothing simultaneously. he could have a healthy relationship that lacked sexual intimacy entirely, and wouldn't lose a wink of sleep.

but here he was — ready to test the waters.

it had to be an act of one hundred percent certainty with Simon. no regrets, no hard feelings, no uncomfortable moments. pure pleasure with someone he trusted.

none of it was planned, which both terrified and intrigued him.

you had arrived home like normal, shared a meal like normal. and then... somehow ended up all over each other — not normal for you two. but it wasn't rushed, it wasn't hot and heavy, it was natural. you were leaning into him heavier than before, kissing him even deeper.

it was as if your bodies had all the conversation up until this point — a silent decision that tonight was the night. "you sure about this, love?" Simon murmured, a thumb caressing your cheek as he looked for any inkling of doubt in your eyes. however, there wasn't any, not even a smidge.

whether you supplied a nod or a verbal cue, he continued to ask for them. he needed them, otherwise it didn't feel right. each layer of clothing, he asked. every new inch of flesh, he asked. Simon needed to know you were all there; not blinded by lust, not purely following his lead for the sake of a hasty release.

"can I take these off?" his fingers hovered over your undergarments, waiting until you nodded for him to roll them down your thighs. even when exposed in front of him, his mind was running a mile a minute. Simon relied on his hands first, since he kept his mouth busy looking for reassurance. "does that feel alright? you want 'em faster?" his need for consent oozed enough sex-appeal to begin with — but now you were greeted with a whole new him. still considerate, still frazzled, but even more attractive than you'd ever seen him.

you were sure his eyes never left you, because they didn't. whether he was making eye contact or watching his hands prepare you, they were always cemented.

sometimes the other hand would stay at his side until you were deeper in pleasure. then it would move to your chest, slithering up until he could caress your heated cheeks. his touch, even the innocent one, only heightened his ability to make you feel good.

he didn't know when to stop. what if you weren't really ready? what if he hurt you somehow? you physically had to snap him out of it. either by begging, or giving him a look of desperation — and it spoke volumes, indeed. you needed him, yearned for the part of Simon still unknown.

"say the words and i'll stop, love." once again, his gaze searched for discomfort, but found none. after a few moments of shuffling, he found a position that required little exertion — spooning you. his arms could remain tight around your waist, where he could hit all the right angles, and both parties could remain relaxed on the mattress.

and so it began; the slowest ease, the utmost restraint when he finally rid himself of his clothes. though you hadn't touched an inch of him, his arousal was evident. inch by inch, he guided himself into you, "we'll take it slow— just like this." he stuck to his words, halting if you ever needed a moment. he was still as a statue until you gave him the go-ahead to go all in. "does that feel good? you want more, hm? fuck, you feel good around me."

Simon finally started to enjoy it, too, though he remained calculated and observant. your own sounds and praises are what mattered most, always would to him. he could physically feel his trust building with you, as did he mentally.

whether common or uncommon, there were more nights like this to come in the future.

the night wasn't perfect by any means, but his forbearance was not something easily forgotten.

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #mw2 fanfic #simon riley #task force 141 x reader #ghost mw2 #simon riley x reader #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley headcanons #cod x reader #cod headcanons #141 headcanons #tf 141 x reader #ghost x reader #ghost headcanons #mw2 ghost #141 smut

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shiro41 · 3 months

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Fluffy ears- Alastor

Summary: You always want to touch his ears but unfortunately for you, he rejects the very idea of it until he lets you.

Warnings: sub!Alastor, blowjob, brief mentions of a tentacle, drools, him in a rut?, dom turned sub reader, humping.

Note: this is my first time publishing a smut piece-- im anxious.

You always wondered how the fluff of the man's ears sit atop of his head, moving in sync with his moods and reactions. It wiggles, sometimes pinned on his head like a saddened pup, most times relaxed and stood proudly on his head. You wonder how they feel like.

"Please, Alastor?"

You put your hands in front of you, batting your lashes the best you could as you begged the overlord to let you touch his ears. His fluffy, fluffy ears. Knowing Alastor, he despises any form of physical contact unless he initiated first and touching his ears is a positive no. Which you got.

"Pretty please! I'll do anything!"

The smile on his face never wavered, staying the same size yet, his red spheres glowered with the slightest bit of irritation.

"My dear, touching my ears is a no. I'd appreciate it if you forget the ever thought of it."

He tapped your nose with his microphone, leaning down to your height and close his eyes-- smile still remaining. This resulted with a huff from you, growing equally as irritated and curious as he is. You watch him walk off, probably towards his radio station to broadcast yet another episode of pained screams of the unfortunate souls.

"I swear I'll get to touch it!"

You murmured to yourself, forming a fist as a rush of determination flowed through your ever being. You run to your room with the thought of his fluffs, ignoring the shaking heads of the staff.

"You think she'll ever touch 'em?"

Angel asked, turning to his cat friend who shook his head in disagreement.

Weeks passed and you still ask for the same thing to the radio demon, consistently begging for your hands to land on top of his head and within those weeks, he's been rejecting the idea nonstop.

"Come on, Alastor! Just five minutes!"

"No."

"Fine, four!"

"Still a no, darling."

Another interaction failed, it left you puffing smoke out of your nose from the forming irritation boiling in your blood. At this Point, the both of you find one another annoying. How persistent despite the many times of statements with the same content.

Of course, even the most patient man has his limits and it didn't happen until dozens of months passed where you took the advantage of the radio demon's vulnerable state of mating. He's a deer, it's perfectly normal to have these cycles once a year--maybe twice. You're not an expert with animals.

"Alastor, please let me touch your ears!"

You come to him again, noticing the relaxed posture yet the shaking of his grip on the microphone gave way to the battles inside him at the moment. He simply gave out a sigh, grabbing ahold of your hand and teleporting you to his room that's resembled the forest.

"Can I touch you now?"

A growing excitement evident in your voice, gasping as Alastor agreed and sat down on the cold ground covered with lush greens. His claws simply guided you to lay on his lap, like a father would comforting his child. They nestled and made home on your hips, occassionally brushing the skin beneath the clothes you wore as he lowered his head to give you full access to the red ears that heated due to the rushing blood and hormones he's experiencing at the moment.

"Be careful, darling. I can't promise a night of only receiving the pleasures of touching my ears."

He warned, reminding you he may not restraint himself from the animal instincts and growing need to reproduce. You, aware of the situation, nodded in understanding. So long as you can come to contact with the deer's ears, nothing is worth regretting.

You notice the first touch, it twitching in a manner so gentle you let a coo of compliments to him. The static noise of what you believe were small grunts and moans coming from Alastor deafened your ears, the pair only tucked more to his head when you massaged the base of it until the tips.

Soon enough, you find yourself touching his sensitive ears as he occassionally quivered underneath your touch, head burrowed in the crook of your neck and saliva running down his chin. His claws threaten to dig deeper into your hips, constantly restraining himself from hurting you physically. The statics have worsened, now sounding similar to purring yet, still with the whines and murmurs of encouragement from him.

He's melting in your touch.

"A-ah..please keep it u-up..! Kngh--"

He whimpered, feeling your hands travel from his soft ears to his small, hard antlers. It was rough to the touch, feeling like branches but the softness of the fur of his ears brushing up on your wrists was enough to get you going.

"Ooh it seems l-like I can't handle it a-ah..any further, chèr..!"

He breathed, moving your hips to grind on his crotch in a slow pace. You didn't mind the movement, opting to focus on your goal at hand and that is to savour every moment with the two pairs sitting atop his red head. Your skirt is pushed up until your thighs, barely showing the pink panties you wore today. It's patched with slight wetness in the middle, indicating your aroused figure in the situation you're in. Alastor underneath you was not far from your state, bucking his hips every time you brush your fingers against his head and occassionally travel to his cheeks and jaw before circling again on top.

The grinding didn't maintain its pace, now only moving faster the longer you went and the harder Alastor's hips thrust to meet your clothed cunt that's soaked with wetness resulting in his pants to stain too.

"Oh, Mon cher! I'm about to cum...!"

He breathed, continuing to produce whines after whines as you nip at the sensitive ear of his while the other's been massaged by your hand. You can feel Alastor drooling, the evidence being your discoloured shirt that's wet from his saliva, sliding down the cleavage of your chest. He whimpers with every meeting of his crotch coming to contact with your clothed pussy, almost rolling his eyes back as he feels himself getting closer by the minute.

"Oh darling, please let me cum."

He begged, eliciting a moan from you. Your stomach flipped with butterflies with every word of him begging you to let him have a satisfying release, you feel his tongue slither from your collarbone to your jaw, moaning while doing so. He's drooling a ton, almost bathing you in the process.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck--"

He chanted, voice echoing throughout the forest of his room like a broken record- statics incoherent and almost deafening until warmth spread from his crotch and feeling it on your pussy. He's creamed in his pants, the tent evident that he's been uncomfortably hard yet, you continue your abuse to his already sensitive ears, not letting him ride his release which caused a shriveled whine mixed with scream at the sudden sensation.

"Oh fuck! Oh, I can't take it! I can't take it, I can't- I can't-"

Again like a broken record, his voice transmitted a series of incoherent noise. The hands on his ears suddenly disappeared, cutting off the source of his scarce pleasure before he felt the belt of his pants being unbuckled and removed, not at the very least ashamed of the cum covered boxers once you pulled down the thick material of his pants.

You no longer towered him, instead kneeling in front of his sitting figure. The sight of the thin fabric that covered his obviously hard, wet cock made you moan. It was leaking with precum, pouring out of hid boxers before your tongue decided to take a taste of heaven in hell.

"Aahh..!"

A long drag of Ahs and a claw at the back of your neck has Alastor throwing his head back until his head collided with the tree behind. Your head pressed against the heat of his dick, rubbing your cheek affectionately against it as you look at those reds of his through the clumps of your eyelashes, eyes covered with thick lust.

His hand wiped the saliva off the corners of his mouth, now removing the stray of locks from your face and slowly taking out his angry red dick that's been begging to be released and aching to be touched. With its size, it slapped you in the process resulting with sticky cum kissing your cheek, the overlord repeating the process time and time again, swaying the hard organ across you and enjoy the sight of your tongue poking out ever so slightly, enticing him to fill it up with his thick cock.

"A-ah..ah no..let me savor this first, dear girl."

He tried to create dominance, continuing to tease you with his dick encircling your mouth but never in it. This resulted with an impatient whine coming out of your mouth, a hand coming to travel to your gaping pussy still clad in pink, wet panties but unfortunately, a tentacle wrapped itself onto your wrist- effectively preventing you from giving yourself pleasure.

A small sigh escape his lips, looking at your hazed lustrous expression before finally inserting his dick inside your awaiting mouth. The tentacle still was on your wrist and come to binding both of your hands behind your back, preventing you any self pleasure with the exception of his dick inside your mouth.

"Take it in, Darling..!"

He murmured, his hand massaging your aching scalp whilst his ruby spheres looked down at you with a hint of sadism that matched his mischievous smirk.

He could only hear your muffled whines as you tried to claw the tentacle that wrapped your wrist together, he could see the evident teardrops forming and sliding down your cheeks as your throat caved in and took the shape of his cock perfectly.

"Mhn, such a good girl...!!""

He praised, hand travelling from your scalp to your chin that's covered with a thin coat of saliva and cum. He's been so lost in pleasure that he lost track of time how long your mouth has been stuffed by his cock.

You feel the sudden pull of your head, forcing you to release Alastor's dick from your mouth that stood tall, thick and angry red from you sucking him like an infant to a mother for the past minutes. Alastor glanced at the streaming saliva that travelled down from your chin to the valleys of your perky breasts, mixed with his thick, white semen that you seem to not get enough of.

"I'm sorry about this, love."

#alastor #hazbin hotel #hazbin alastor #smut #x reader #alastor x reader #tentacles #ITS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT #HELP

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celestie0 · 1 month

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Some headcanons about Kickoff college!Gojo, please!

hellooo my love i’m so sorry this took me a while i wanted to post ch9 first!

kickoff!gojo headcanons pt.1 unserious & fluffy edition lol

ᰔ these headcanons are based off of my fanfic “kickoff” which is about popular frat boy soccer college athlete gojo lol & there are spoilers below ᰔ for my kickoff readers: most of these are so unserious and/or fluffy (not rly much nsfw) hope u enjoy!!

kickoff!gojo who almost got arrested once for running away from the cops. he wasn’t even in trouble for anything they just started chasing him bc he started running 😭

kickoff!gojo whose primary love language is physical touch and so all of the times he’s had to NOT touch you has driven him absolutely fuckin nuts. positively BONKERS he’s practically been lobotomized by the restraint he’s had to exercise to not touch you

kickoff!gojo whose frat once hosted a date auction to raise money for rush and gojo singlehandedly raised $20k in one night from the bidding bachelorettes (and bachelors)🧍🏻‍♀️he has yet to go on all of those dates he owes them 😅 he runs away anytime his frat president tries to bring it up LOL

kickoff!gojo who is actually a pretty decent student, i mean he’s a business major so womp womp ofc he’s getting by just fine. i think his favorite class he’s ever taken was freshman year econ bc him and todo got into sm shit in that class and it's some of his fondest memories

kickoff!gojo who was literally picturing a life with you on the italian countryside when you were telling him about it. self inserted to the MAX

kickoff!gojo who is always the first to like all of your film photography slideshows on instagram because he has your post notifs on :”) you and messi are the only ppl he’s got post notifs on for 🤣

kickoff!gojo who thought he would be okay with watching your life from afar, through small pictures on his phone, but the thought devastated him more n more w every waking minute

kickoff!gojo who realized that having you wrapped in his arms at the end of ch9 was the closest thing he’s felt to peace since before the night his father passed away

kickoff!gojo who hasn’t really kept too much memoribilia of his father since a lot of the memories are painful for him, but he’s kept that old soccer ball w his dad’s signature n word of love for his mom on it

kickoff!gojo who wouldnt have been able to get through the trauma of losing his father if suguru wasn’t there by his side. he would’ve really lost himself, and would’ve given up on soccer if not for suguru's support. he's truly really grateful for him

kickoff!gojo who knows what his sun, moon & rising signs are because he’s been ran through 🙄 smh. WHORE

kickoff!gojo who plays for charity soccer tournaments on the weekends whenever he can 🫶🏼💕 he loves it bc there’s less pressure to play super well & also he loves getting to meet the people that the events are helping out

kickoff!gojo who has a massive sex drive (he got that athlete testosterone 😔🤚🏼) esp around someone he genuinely likes AHEM YOU so beware that if you start dating him he’s gonna beg you to put it on him at least 15 times a day and you’ll have to reject him 13.5 times

kickoff!gojo who is not ready to be a father at ALL at this point in his life but he’s thought ab how nice it would be to teach his kids how to play soccer someday :”) he’s givin me girl dad vibes tho, and you just KNOW he’s gonna be cheering on his lil girls when they’re tearing through the little league w their sparkly princess tiaras & tutus on 😤 he’d be the little league coach for sure LMAO

also little league coach!gojo would 100% promise to let the kiddos shave his head if they win the championship game 😭 i can just imagine you yelling at him when he randomly comes home bald one day

kickoff!nanami&choso&suguru who would be such protective soccer uncles to yours and gojo's duaghters. not a single boy would ever get NEAR those girls i'm telling youuu. pls pray for them haha

kickoff!gojo who figured out you were mina’s roommate through a little bit of facebook stalking. and yes, he scrolled all the way down to your embarrassing middle school photos. and yes, he still likes you despite seeing them. more, even, when he thinks about it. also, he’s pissed you had a digimon themed 9th birthday party and you didn’t invite him 😒 what’s up w that

kickoff!gojo & kickoff!choso who once illegally played an off-season tourney abroad in spain for a lump sum lmfaoo and it was a pretty decent cut of cash. but shhhh dont tell the NCAA ab that pls or else they’re fucked 💀

this is all i could think of rn haha thank you anon for the ask and hope you enjoyed them <333

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