#[draw the twins nicely I said
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4:23 pm | the adventures of dad!gojo
content: 0.9k words, fem!reader, dad gojo, megumi is your son, silly crack fic
gojo satoru is a man with very little fears.
in actuality, people are afraid of him. a mere gaze from those cerulean blue eyes of his sends people running off to the opposite direction, so the adjective “intimidating” was quite the understatement to describe him. some might even say that he’s the strongest, so he possesses no fear at all.
despite that, gojo has one thing he’s deathly afraid of: you–his wife, when you’re angry.
“suguru, help me out here!” geto can physically feel his bestfriend’s panic through the phone. gojo explained the situation in a fast ramble–geto could barely understand what he was saying, but he thinks he got the gist of it: you went out to run some errands and entrusted gojo to take care of your two year old child, megumi, while you were out. gojo conjured up the genius idea of keeping megumi entertained by handing him a paper and markers–so that they could surprise you with megumi’s amazing artistic abilities once you came back home.
it had gone “so well”, gojo said earlier, picking up the paper and studying it. “i think this is a drawing of a cat? or a dog, i don’t really know.. still, it’s made by my son, and it’s the peak of art and i think everyone should see it!”
gojo was so busy trying to decipher what megumi had drawn that he didn’t realize that his son still had the markers in his hands. when he peers over to look at megumi again, he just about screamed.
“gumi- no- GUMI!” he shrieks, snatching the markers away from his son’s hold. megumi, not having a paper to draw on anymore, decided to use the wall as his canvas instead—sketching a poorly drawn house with a bright red marker. “you’re not supposed to draw on the wall! aw fuc-ahem, freak… your mom’s gonna kill me…”
“gosh suguru, some advice would help!” satoru’s never been so afraid in all his years of living. you’re coming home pretty soon, and he has no idea what to do. he’s already imagining the look on your face–and it’s pushing satoru to the brink of passing out. gojo satoru–the renowned sorcerer who’s fought the king of curses, been sealed away in a box and has had multiple near death experiences–all of these things have happened to him yet none can compare to the fear of facing his wife when she’s angry.
“hmm? what is it, nanako?” satoru can hear his bestfriend trying not to laugh over the phone. suguru knows an easy solution to his problem, but he thinks that leaving satoru in the dark is funnier. it’s rare to see the strongest sorcerer like this, so geto revels in it with pure amusement. “you’re hungry? okay… let’s see what i can make for you, yeah?”
“you heard her, satoru~ one of the twins are hungry. i’m afraid i have to go… good luck about the markers, yeah?” suguru hangs up before satoru could say a word. he curses under his breath, but feels his heart stop when he hears the door unlock.
you’re home.
“mama!” megumi yells, clapping his hands and slowly crawling over to the front door. you happily greet your son, placing the grocery bags on the table.
you walk over to your husband, kissing him on the cheek before noticing the piece of paper that he’s holding. “oh? what’s this?”
you grab the paper from his hands and satoru regains a little bit of his composure once he hears you coo at your son’s drawing. “thought it would be nice for me and megumi to surprise you while you were gone… it’s a drawing of a cat-”
“horsey!”
“...a horse. yup, that’s what i said!” he sheepishly ignores his son’s glare, mentally preparing himself to tell you about the wall.
“i love it! oh my gosh, megumi, aren’t you just a little artist?” you say, ruffling your son’s hair with a big smile. “this is definitely going on the fridge.”
“...there’s one small problem, though…” satoru refuses to meet your gaze.
“what did you do this time, satoru?”
“hey, it technically wasn’t me!” he says, this time being the one to shoot the glare at his son. “so hypothetically…what if i told you that gumi thought it would be a nicer idea to use the wall as a canvas instead of the paper?”
“...”
satoru perceives your silence as his death sentence. “look, i’m sorry! i was trying to figure out what he drew and i forgot that he still had the markers in his hands-”
“satoru-”
“and the next thing i know, he drew on the wall before i was able to take the markers from him-”
“toru-”
“and suguru wasn’t giving me advice either, but then-”
“satoru!” your final yell finally breaks him from his ramble. he’s surprised to see that no, you don’t have a look of murder on your face. in fact, you’re actually smiling—looking more amused than anything.
“satoru, they’re washable markers.” you take a baby wipe from your purse and walk over to the wall, wiping away the bright red marker strokes easily with a few swipes. you’re trying not to laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “did you not know that?”
now he’s the one stunned into silence. “...”
“no, no… i definitely knew that…!”
“yeah, sure you did.”
being a father is so difficult.
#jujutsu kaisen#gojo satoru#jjk#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x y/n#gojo satoru x you#gojo x reader#gojo satoru comfort#gojo fluff#gojo satoru fluff#dad gojo#dad!gojo#gojo x y/n#satoru gojo
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if your still taking requests I would like to request reader scraping their knees and tasm!peter patching her up and it’s a lot of lovely tension:))) maybe r not being used to people touching them without bad intentions.
I hope you are having a lovely time right now and are taking care of yourself<3
thank you lovely! ♡ fem, 1k
Peter's droopy eyed when you knock, less so when he gets a good look at you. Blood leading like twin snakes from the grazed ache of your knees and staining your socks, tears lining your eyes and shiny in the sun, you're embarrassingly sad. He doesn't give you shit for it, the opposite.
"Fuck," he says, his eyes widening with a familiar concern. "Shit, what did you do?"
"Uhm," you say, though you know, but you bit your tongue on the way down and everything hurts, "I fell. Someone bumped into me coming out of the subway."
Peter holds his hands out, thinks better of it and steps down over the door jam to take your hands and pull you forward for a hug. He smells like apple jack cereal and his hair is still wet from an early morning shower, a walking poster boy for brown-haired, brown-eyed sweethearts everywhere, but you still seize at his tight hold.
He murmurs a sorry and leans back, assessing your gaze, so close that you can see the trifecta of his pinprick beauty marks, one in the shadow of his brow, one under his eye, and one closer to his nose.
"Come on. We'll clean you up."
Peter ushers you inside, his fingertips brushing the small of your back. You walk into the kitchen, every surface clean, the wooden dining table decorated by one empty coffee cup and one half full. His cereal bowl has been washed and left to dry on the rack, next to what must've been his Aunt May's plate.
"May's in work already?" you ask him.
He hums, turned away from you, a slip of his long, shapely back exposed as he reaches for the first aid kit sitting on top of one of the cabinets. "She said to tell you thank you for the flowers last week."
You panicked so much beforehand. What do you bring for your not quite new friend's mom when you meet her for the first time? You've known Peter for a few months but never had the good fortune to meet May until she demanded it, your bouquet a weak offering. You'd wanted her to like you, because despite your fight or flight whenever he gives you a quick shoulder rub, any ounce of affection, you really like Peter.
Said flowers draw your attention as Peter helps you up onto the counter. You turn away from him, trembling hands forced under your thighs, and count the petals of a wilting carnation one by one as he washes his hands quickly in the sink beside you before laying out the sterile bandages atop their plastic coverings. "I'm gonna wipe the blood off," he says.
You're past saying no, I can do it myself. You already let him help you up. The time to protest is passed.
"Okay."
He takes your wobbly voice for nervousness, and you are nervous, but not the way he thinks. "I'll be careful," he says. "You don't have anything to worry about."
Strange but not unheard of for Peter to be so serious. You nod jerkily, waiting for his touch. It doesn't come for a while, and you brave meeting his gaze to find out why.
His eyebrows are sewn together in concern. His hands land on your thighs, and, to your surprise, you aren't apprehensive. You relax as deft hands draw mirrored lines up and down the outer sides of your legs, leaving a generous distance from the beginnings of your shorts. "Maybe you can take some advil first, if you're worried." He eases your legs apart as he steps into the space between them, his eyes unfailing where they meet yours. "It'll hurt less. I bet I could get some topical numbing cream–"
"It's not–" You peek down at his chest. "I'm not worried about my knees."
"Oh. Good," he says, hand coming up to your elbow. He holds it so tenderly you wonder how you ever thought he might have a propensity for anything but tenderness. "You look really nice, under all the blood. Is that weird? That's probably why you fell, you couldn't just walk around looking that nice. Throws off the balance of the universe."
You laugh softly. "These are my best socks."
"I can see that!" He squeezes down from your elbow to your hand. You've never been touched like that, half massage, half reassurance, just squeezing you to squeeze you. Laughter livens his tone, "I'll get you new socks."
"You don't have to do that."
"I want to."
You struggle to breathe as he cleans your knees. Between his murmuring, It's okay and Almost done, you've no time to feel worried.
You've time for other things, like this. He turns between your legs and slides a hand under the other, fingertips pressing into the soft underside of your knee as he works a thin layer of disinfecting ointment into your scratches. He continues his murmuring, apologies and lamentation alike. "Sorry. Don't want you catching rabies from the pristine streets of Queens. I mean, fuck, sweetheart, you made a real mess. How hard did you fall?"
You swallow a lump that feels fit to choke you, worse when he tilts his head ever so slightly your way, face an inch from yours, less.
"Hard," you say weakly.
He misses the implication (your first stroke of luck all day), smoothing a large square of gauze over your knee and securing it with medical tape. "It's nothing a day on the couch can't fix. I'll make you breakfast too, free of charge."
"Thanks, Peter."
He rubs the skin above your knee. "You're welcome. One horrendous injury down, one to go."
His touch feels even softer the second time around.
#tasm peter parker#tasm peter x reader#tasm peter parker imagine#tasm peter parker x you#tasm peter parker x reader#tasm x reader#peter parker x reader#tasm!spiderman x reader#tasm!peter x reader#tasm!peter imagine#tasm!peter parker#tasm!peter parker x reader#tasm! peter parker x reader#spiderman x reader#peter parker oneshot#peter parker blurb#peter parker imagine#peter parker x you#peter parker x y/n#spiderman x you#spiderman fanfiction
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Save a horse, ride a cowboy
Tara Carpenter x fem!reader (r is also implied to be more masculine-leaning)
Summary: Tara rides you 🤷♀️ no Ghostface au
Words: 3.5k
A/n: the card game they play is called “do or drink” so if you don’t understand the rules here, search it up and it’ll probably make more sense
Warnings: G!P reader, explicit sex, unprotected sex (you pull out dw), blowjob, face fucking, Tara lowkey has a size kink, R has a praise kink lol, service top!R, power bottom!T (i think? idk positions that well)
MINORS DNI!!
Tara didn’t really feel like being at this party. Unfortunately for her, she was a victim of peer pressure by Mindy. The twin said something about “getting laid” and how Tara needed to “get some”, but in all honesty, she wasn’t actually listening
The party she was at was cowboy/southern-themed, and Tara opted to wear some plaid and a white crop top. Chad went fully cowboy, through. Tara said he looked like a dork, but his eyes were set on looking like someone from Red Dead Redemption. The brunette didn’t know how he did it, but Chad didn’t even look half bad. Tara swears he has a superpower at looking stupid and not stupid at the same time
Mindy on the other hand, did the least. The twin adorned a black shirt and a brown leather jacket with southern-ish accessories
Chad didn’t bother knocking or ringing the bell over the loud music, and he let himself, Mindy, and Tara into the house. There was a familiar smell in the house. Weed and alcohol absolutely flamed her nostrils, and she scrunched up her nose. When Tara’s eyes landed on you, she swore you were a goddess straight from Texas heaven
“Mindy.”
“I see her, Tara”
“Mindy.”
“No straight woman wears a wife beater. You’re in the clear”
In Tara’s favor, Chad yelled your name and waved you over
“Mindy, Tara, this is Y/N! She coached me back in Woodsboro. She’s also from Texas, so i invited her to show up all the fake cowboys like me” The football player slung an arm around your shoulder, and you held out your hand for the two girls to shake
“Nice to meet you two” Your accent was practically nonexistent, but certain words have you away. When your hand meets Tara’s, yours engulfs hers and she swears she can feel her heart beating in her throat
“Chad speaks well of y’all”
“Really? I’m surprised” Mindy laughs, but Tara is too busy sweating over you to engage in conversation
“I’m gonna introduce Y/N to the rest of our friend group, i’ll see you two around!”
“Have a good night, you two” You tip your hat with a wink, and follow after Chad
“So, wanna explain?” Mindy sends a knowing glance at Tara, a small smirk on her face
“Absolutely not.” The shorter girl makes her way into the kitchen, pouring herself a solo cup of whatever alcohol she can find. Tara chooses to ignore the burning sensation down her throat
“Nope, you’re going to talk right now. I didn’t even know you were into women like her”
“Neither did i, that’s the problem” Tara groans, covering her face with her hands
“What’s the plan?”
“There is no plan, Mindy. I don’t even know how to get close to her…” Eros or Aphrodite must’ve been listening real close because not a second later, she sees you being dragged around by Chad, rounding up a few people to play a drinking card game
“Tara! Mindy! Play drinking games with us? Ethan, Quinn, Y/N, Amber, Wes, Anika, Liv, a few other people and i are playing”
Mindy nods, and they follow you two to the living room, where all the aforementioned people were sitting. Some on the couch and some on the floor. You took your spot on the floor with Chad on your left, and Quinn on your right on the couch.
Chad clears his throat, and all eyes are on him. “Alright! Rules are simple. Everyone has to draw a white card, and do what it says. If you get a white card that says ‘Draw’, you have to get a black card and either do what it says, or drink however much it tells you. Make sense?”
The group nods, and small discussions are made between people. Tara is seated between Mindy, who’s talking to Anika, and Ethan, who’s talking to Chad
“Since i’m the one that wanted to play, i will graciously go first” Chad pulls his white card, and his face lights up. “War! Challenge another player to an arm wrestle. The loser must drink”
The twin gets up, and he points straight at your forehead. “Y/N! This cowboy challenges you in a duel of our arms!”
“How could i say no. I agree to your challenge, my good sir” You shake hands, and make your way to the coffee table in the middle of the room. Tara is on your right, and you give her a perfect view of your bicep
“You look nervous, Chad. Are you afraid?”
“You can’t teach an old dog new tricks. Therefore, the student always wins” he smiles at you, and your competitive side starts to bubble up
“When i win, i’ll make sure to spoon feed you your own words” readjusting your grip on Chad’s hand, Ethan makes his way over to be the referee
“Three…”
Tara notices your concentrated face, and how you bite your lip in anticipation
“Two…”
You adjust your grip once again, and Tara wonders what else your hands can do
“One!” Ethan lets go of yours and Chad’s attached hands, and they both stay in place. Tara can tell you two were pretty evenly matched
“C’mon, Y/N! Gag him!” Mindy cheers for you
“Don’t listen to her, babe. You got this!” Liv cheers for Chad
“Show him up, Y/N! You’ve got it” Tara cheers with a smile on her face, and you momentarily stop pushing before you catch yourself
“What’s the matter, Y/N? Losing already?”
“We’ll see” When you hear Tara say your name again, a new urge to win rushes through your body. In one swift motion, Chad’s hand meets the table, and those who were supporting you cheer
“What did you say about the student always winning?” You say with a wide grin on your face, and you kiss your arm in a show of ego
“That was a fluke! I want a rematch!” The twin says playfully
“Like you wouldn’t just lose again”
“Whatever, it’s your turn to draw”
You pick up a card, and you laugh to yourself. “Vote! On the count of three, everyone points to the person they think has had sex in the most interesting spot. The player with the most votes must confess their sex spot and take a drink”
“Alright! Three, two, one!” You count down, and mostly everyone is mostly pointing at Quinn
“Geez, what do you guys think of me?” She takes a sip of her drink. “And my most interesting spot was under the bleachers during his football practice”
This goes on until it’s Tara’s turn. Amber got an “All brunettes must drink” card, Anika got to be Simon in Simon Says (which Tara had to drink for losing first), and Mindy drew a card that made all of the single people drink. Luckily for Tara, you drank when Mindy pulled her card
“Your turn, Tara! What’ll you get?” Chad quickly made himself the keeper of cards, sitting in the middle as you sat on the couch in his place. Tara leans over, and she takes a card from Chad. Revealing her card, she see’s it says to draw
“Our very first ‘Draw’ card! I wonder what it’ll be” Chad grins, and Tara pulls a black card from the deck
“Spin a bottle. Whoever it lands on, sit on their lap for the next 2 rounds or both must drink four times”
Oohs are exchanged throughout the group, and Tara rolls her eyes in embarrassment. Less than a second later, Chad hands Tara an empty beer bottle. The twin takes his spot somewhere in the circle, and the brunette spins the bottle
“I’ll pray it lands on her” Mindy playfully nudges her shoulder, and Tara blushes. Neither of you knew it, but both you and the brunette hoped the bottle ended up pointing at you. It went around once, twice, three times
Slowly passing by the person to your right, the bottle points straight at you and you swear time stops for a second. Tara meets your eyes, and you swear she’s blushing when Mindy shoves her towards you
Tara awkwardly sits on your lap, moving to find a comfortable spot
You place a reassuring hand on her hip. “You know you don’t have to do this, right? If you’re uncomfortable, nobody is gonna judge you” Tara can feel your hand leave her side, and the smaller girl has to physically stop herself from letting out a whine of frustration
“I’m not uncomfortable. I just… need to adjust.” The brunette not-so-accidentally grinds her hips against yours, and she swears she hears you let out a tiny groan
It’s Wes’ turn next, but Tara can’t focus as she gropes around the couch for your hands. The alcohol in her system takes over when she leans back into you, and makes you wrap your arms around her torso. You happily oblige
“You having a good night, so far?”
Tara decides to be bold. “It’s definitely better in your lap”
Despite your semi-hard cock uncomfortably rubbing against your jeans, you try your best to learn more about Tara. Asking how her day was, what she’s majoring in, if she has any family; all while the brunette causes more friction by slowly rubbing her ass on your crotch. You have to suppress many moans as she not-so-casually grinds on you
Tara learns that you used to work on a family farm in Texas, but moved to California for college. You told her about the animals, the pumpkin patches, and looking up at the stars with your siblings
Not even noticing it’s your turn again, Chad has to remind you to draw a card. You instantly miss Tara’s heat when she crawls off your lap so you can draw a card. The game goes on for the next hour or so, and you can barely remember what you had to do after all the drinks you’ve had
You end up having to quit the game halfway through when you refuse to send a nude photo of yourself to a random number or take a drink. Tara’s card no longer applies very early on, but she actively decides to sit in your lap for the rest of the game
Amber kicks out the rest of the party-goers around 1 am, and you’ve been tasked to drive Tara and Mindy home. Somehow you’re the least drunk. Since Chad was their ride and he’s off somewhere making out with Liv, you so graciously offered to drive them home.
The ride to Mindy’s house was quiet, but it was a comfortable quiet. You tapped on the steering wheel to the soft music, Mindy was half asleep, and Tara was discreetly trying to look at you from the passenger seat. You dropped Mindy off at her place, and now you were on your way to Tara’s house. The moonlight was hitting your eyes in the right way, causing them to sparkle the tiniest bit Tara had a little staring problem
“Do i have something on my face?”
“Do you want to stay over at my place?” The brunette blurts out, instantly regretting her words. “I mean- uh, if you want…”
“Sure, i’d like to stay over. I’m pretty sure i have some extra clothes in here, anyway. Any scary dogs i should beware of?”
“Does my sister count?”
“Only if she bites” This earns a laugh from Tara, and you mentally pat yourself on the back
“Definitely beware of her. She’s staying at her boyfriends place tonight, so you’re good”
“Noted” You pull into the Carpenters driveway, and both of you get out. Grabbing an extra hoodie, shirt, and shorts, you follow Tara into her house
“Bathroom is on the left. Do you want to watch a movie?”
“Sure, you can pick”
“You’re gonna wish you never said that. Let’s watch The Babadook”
“Seriously? Dude, i used to jump like six feet in the air when the floor boards creaked in the barn”
“You’ll live” Rolling your eyes at her words, you made your way to her bathroom to change. You made sure to freshen up, even though you two were just watching a movie. The smell of buttered popcorn filled your lungs and you could faintly hear the popping kernels
When you leave her bathroom, Tara’s already changed into something more comfortable
“Do we have to watch something scary? Can’t we watch a sitcom or something?”
“Listen, you let me decide but we don’t have to if you don’t wanna” Tara finds her seat on the couch, your shoulders touching when she sits down the bowl of popcorn between you two
“But i will think you’re a pussy”
“The Babadook it is” You click play on the remote, and Tara lays her head on your shoulder. She barely pays attention to the movie, considering she’s seen it far too many times. Instead, the brunette opts to watch you and all of your reactions. You’ve raised the blanket up under your nose and leaned into Tara about 20 times, and the movie is just about halfway through
Every now and again you’d flinch in anticipation, and Tara would rub your thigh in support. You don’t know if your heart is beating due to the movie, or due to Tara practically being on top of you for the second time this night
When the movie ends and the credits roll, you can only stare at the black screen and Tara lets out a laugh
“So, what do you think?”
“I don’t think i’ll be able to sleep tonight, Tara”
“You’ll be okay” The brunette pats your cheek
“Can we watch something lighter? Like My Little Pony?”
“Of course you were a horse girl”
“Actually i was an Equestria Girls girl, thank you” You huff
“Tomato, potato, they were all ponies” Tara rolls her eyes, and smiles “I think i have another horror movie you’ll like. Well, it’s technically a trilogy”
“Absolutely not! I’d like to be able to close my eyes tonight and not hallucinate a monster leaning over me”
“There’s a scene where two girls kiss”
“…Fine.”
An hour in, the two main girls are making out in their bras, and you’re staring quite intensely at the scene. Something in the room shifts, and all of a sudden you start to feel hotter. Tara goes from rubbing your thigh to slowly dragging her hand to your crotch, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind. Your breath hitches when she starts to rub your clothed cock
“A-Are we about to do the thing?” You say unsure, but the brunette is already pulling you off the couch and leading you to her room
Before you know what’s happening, Tara is guiding you into her bedroom and pushing you up against a wall. Her kisses are hungry and fast, wanting to taste every part of you. When she starts to fiddle with your shorts, you let out a small laugh at how she huffs in frustration
“Take it off, already.”
“Someone’s needy” You tease
“I’ve been eye fucking you all night. I’m not waiting any longer. I had to drag you here myself”
“I didn’t know if i was reading your signals wrong…” You mumble, and Tara hates how adorable you look. God why were you cute and hot at the same time
“I was grinding on you the entirety of those two rounds at the party”
“You said you were adjusting! I thought my lap was uncomfortable!”
“I hate how the oblivious ones are always the hottest.” Tara finally manages to pull down your shorts through shaky hands, and she feels her mouth water when she sees the small tent in your underwear
“Spider-man boxers?” the shorter girl quirks an eyebrow at you
“I didn’t think i’d have sex tonight” You suck in a breath when Tara starts to rub your cock through your boxers
“Really? You didn’t think you’d get laid tonight looking like this” Tara motions to your entire body with her non-busy hand. “Maybe i should show you how pretty you are. Do you want that, baby?” The brunette squeezes your cock; and you nod, not trusting your voice to do anything but moan
As she gets on her knees, Tara pulls down your boxers just enough to reveal your hardened dick
“Jesus, you’re big…” The brunette says to herself, but you can feel your ego boost at her words. Tara starts to lick the veins on your shaft, and you can feel her massaging your balls. Your cock is drooling pre-cum when Tara kisses your tip, and you let out a breathy moan
“Please, Tara…”
“Tell me what you want, baby”
“Please let me fuck your mouth”
“Let me adjust to your size first. I’ll let you know when you can start, does that sound good?”
“A-Anything you want”
“You’re cute.” Tara kisses your tip again before taking it into her mouth, eliciting a moan from your throat. She swirls her tongue in a way that drives your crazy. Her hands make their way around your thighs, and Tara squeezes your ass as she takes half your cock into her mouth. The brunette squeezes your balls and you hear her gag as her nose meets your lower abdomen. The sight of Tara deepthroating your cock almost makes you cum
“Fuck.” You breathe out. You try backing away to give Tara a little room to breathe but she just ends up making you thrust into her mouth, making her gag. You pull her face away from your cock not wanting her to choke, and the shorter girl wipes a little drool off her chin
“Why’d you do that?” Tara asks, a little annoyed
“I didn’t want you to run out of breath. Your eyes were watering”
“It’s nice how much you care about me. I can assure you i can handle your cock, baby. It helps you taste good”
“If it ever gets too much or becomes uncomfortable, squeeze my hand” You tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, and Tara’s heart flutters at how soft you’re being despite the situation
“I promise i’ll let you know if it starts to become too much, baby” The brunette kisses your tip once again and dives right back into sucking your dick. When you look down and she gives you a small nod, your hands tangle in her hair. You start off with small thrusts, slowly going faster as Tara gets used to your size
“F-Fuck you’re amazing” Your balls slap against her chin, and Tara almost cums at how dirty it feels having you fuck her throat like a fleshlight
“Shit, i’m gonna cum, Tara…” You moan, and the brunette gives you a pleading look. You can only assume it means ‘Please cum down my throat’, so that’s exactly what you do. You release your load in her mouth with a groan, and Tara happily swallows all of it down. When she pulls away from your cock, you use your thumb to wipe away the leftover cum on her chin. Tara takes your thumb in her mouth, and licks away the rest of your semen
She gets off her knees, and gets up to pull you into another searing kiss. You can taste yourself on her tongue, and you moan into her mouth at the flavor
“Jesus, you’re still hard?”
“I have the stamina of a stallion” You shrug, feigning a big ego
“Oh, yeah? How about i ride you and we’ll see if you can handle it”
“You have such a beautiful way with words”
“I’d be mad about the teasing of you weren’t cute. Hurry up and get naked, already”
“Yes ma’am” Barely a second passes before Tara’s lips are on yours. In a flurry of heat, both of your clothes end up strewn about her bedroom. Tara pushes you onto her bed. She straddles your lap and kisses you with a new wave of confidence and fervor. When the brunette urges you to lay back, you have to actively keep your jaw closed at the sight of Tara. Unfortunately for you, she notices your staring
“Take a picture, it’ll last longer”
“Can i really?”
“Mm… maybe next time”
Your face lights up. “Next time?”
“After you take me on a date first. We can talk about the specifics later” Tara softly kisses the bridge of your nose, making you close your eyes and blush
“Right now, i want you in me.” The brunette on top of you lines up your tip with her pussy, slowly sinking down your shaft
“Fuck,” Tara takes the rest of your cock in her, and you massage her hips when you can feel her squeezing around you “You feel so good, baby”
Noticing how you moan at her praise, Tara takes note of this. She starts to move up and down, and the feeling of her around you earns a whimper from your throat. Moans are exchanged as Tara starts to ride you faster, constantly increasing her pace
“I’m close, Tar” You breathe out, letting her nickname slip through your lips
“Fuck i am too, baby. You’re so big” Her words are reinforced as she starts to tighten around your cock, and you have to use all your strength to pull out. You ejaculate your cum all over your stomach, and so does Tara. When you both come down from your high, the brunette notices how you’re still somehow hard
“Round two?”
—
A/n pt.2: cookie if you can guess the second movie they watch
#jenna ortega x reader#tara carpenter x reader#jenna ortega#tara carpenter#chad meeks martin#mindy meeks martin#sam carpenter#scream#anika kayoko#scream 6#amber freeman#quinn bailey#ethan landry
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t. fushiguro
original ask: can we have a very very subby reader and every since she was pregnant she had just been so whiny and bratty. She doesn’t do her exercises that had been assigned by her doctor. And somehow Toji gets her to do the squats having a small vibrator slipped inside her.
tags: 18+ content only - mdni + subby pregnant! fem reader + repost from my old blog + teasing + sex toy usage + he's bossy + he refers to himself as daddy once
Toji could hear your pitful whines from the bedroom as you sat on the edge of the bed attempting to slip on a pair of shoes while he leaned against the bathroom sink hearing you with raised eyebrows.
No matter the amount of help he offered you brushed him aside with an attitude that only ended up with your ass in his hands as he groped it knowing why you were so worked up he knew you needed a little bit of a push and he wasn't one to turn down grabbing your ass.
While he brushed his teeth Toji could still hear you huff and mumble under your breath until he emerged in the doorway with his arms crossed over his chest staring at you leaning back with a pout.
"This is why we listen to the doctor, right darlin'?" He asked coming over to you before moving to make a support wall of pillows before he helped you back onto them, his hand resting on your swollen belly.
You rolled your eyes and stayed silent watching him move away from the bed to grab the small vibrating egg and the small tube of lube before he settled between your spread legs again. "What are you doing, Toji?" You asked and crossed your arms like he did earlier.
He pulled a page of your book anour d stayed quiet as he tore open the package to dribble the lube on the toy. "You're going to stop pouting and being a brat and do these squats, they're supposed to help and you don't want to do them, instead, you cry about it. Let's go."
With his help, you kept your legs bent and feet on the edge of the mattress feeling him bunch your skirt up around your waist before he rubbed your pussy first, his hot breath fanning over you as he leaned in to nuzzle his nose against your panties softly.
You gasped when he pulled the fabric to the side to expose you to the cool air before splaying you open to insert the egg slowly watching your pussy swallow it. "I should keep you nice and pregnant, you're glowing and even more needy." Toji teased as he moved your panties.
He helped you up first and grabbed the remote to the toy before guiding you to the living room and grabbing your yoga mat. "Constantly pregnant does not sound fun, and you really want to be outnumbered? We're already having twin girls. Oh, and I can't wait for them to put makeup on you, your pouty lips need some glitter gloss."
Toji chuckled and let his hand snake from your shoulders to your lower back when you stood on the mat. "You already put all that shit on my face, that gloss is sticky." He said and helped you into a squat.
You opened your mouth to reply, but instead of words coming out you whimpered making Toji chuckle deeply in your ear while his hand moved to the curve of your ass keeping you stable as he helped.
"But you love it when I wear it when I suck your dick." You shot back with a huff feeling him pat your ass and whine when he hit the button, setting the vibrator high until your legs shook from it.
With his hand supporting you, you could feel his bulge press against you as he stood behind you and made sure you could stand up straight. Your mind reverted to something more inappropriate as his hands roamed your body with a touch that spoke of a heavy desire.
Toji helped you squat up and down slowly while messing with the speed of the vibrations hearing you draw in a deep breath trying not to show him that it had an effect on you even though he could tell. His hands cupped your lower belly and lifted it gently for you.
This way there was the release of pressure making you moan out louder as you clung to your husband's arms, your hips bucking as much as they could on instinct. "Feel better? Come on, tell me. Tell daddy he's right." He husked in your ear in a breathy tone.
Up and down he helped you with your squats until you were panting and crooning in his arms like a dog in heat.
One hand slipped between your legs to circle your clit feeling you weaken and melt in his arms. "Shh, I got you baby." He reassured you, his lips leaving open-mouthed kisses on your neck and shoulders.
"You--oh--you are such a bastard at times!" You cried out when he grazed his teeth along your pulse point chuckling deeply while his hand moved further down to start fucking you with the vibrator.
His mouth moved to the other side of your neck with another chuckle. "But you like it." He shot back with a grin as he moved back with you in his arms to sit on the couch with you sitting between his legs, Toji was gentle about the entire thing until you were seated.
His hands now moved to your shoulders letting the toy continue until your orgasm crashed over you like a warm wave, your pussy sucked the egg further in your silken walls pulsed around it, Toji's name fell from your lips as you turned your head to kiss him deeply. "Thank you for being a bastard who helped me out, I love you." You hummed.
He smiled widely stretching the scar on the corner of his mouth as he removed the toy from you to suck it clean while never breaking eye contact. "Now we have more exercises to do, I think these ones you have to be on your hands and knees." He teased with a laugh.
#tw: pregnancy#Toji x reader#toji fushiguro x reader#toji x you#toji fushiguro x you#Toji Fushiguro x you#jjk x reader#jjk toji x you#toji x y/n#Toji x you#toji fushiguro#fushiguro toji#Fushiguro Toji x reader#Toji Fushiguro x reader#Toji smut#Toji x reader smut#Toji Fushiguro smut#toji x you smut#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader smut#jujutsu kaisen x reader smut#fushiguro toji x reader smut#fushiguro toji x you smut#toji x yn smut#toji x reader#fushiguro toji x reader
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Introducing the Y/N plush! And the cookies and what they do with said plush!
The cookie in the second image are, shining glitter, pomegranate, chess choco twins, golden cheese, caramelon, custard the lll, black pearl, licorice, lychee, komiho, Affogato, lilac, onion, stardust, space doughnut, timekeeper, shadow milk, white lily, snap dragon, pitya, abyss monarch and fire spirit. And if your wondering, the two drawings took 6 hours total-)
The Earthbread Big Seller!
I can tell which of the two took you the longest. I would like to know what it says next to Snapdragon if you can!
“Amazing Y/N Plush! Collect your very own doll to keep. Be the first one on your block to own the amazing new Y/N Plush! Please do not fight over them!”
[A large line had formed at Butterbear’s shop! Cookies of the sea and sky have emerged too to get their very own plush!]
Many fans had considered Shining Glitter’s latest show to be one of her best! She couldn’t take all of the credit though, she had help!
She cuddled close the Y/N plush she had next to her mic stand. She can count on it to allow her to give it her all, as if Y/N themself was watching her!
Having her own plush hold up a mirror for her to help fix her hair up already made itself more useful to Pomegranate than a certain cookie in the CoD.
She took a quick look around before she took it with her to bed, dozing off with the plushie clutched tightly in her arms.
The Chess Choco duo loved that they now have an observer to their chess games in the form of their own Y/N plush! They didn’t expect one or the other to pull anything tricky, but it was nice to have some sort of reassurance that no sneaky tactics came into play!
They split the time in half with how much each of the two got to have the plush. It doesn’t stop disputes from breaking out that had Earl Grey stepping in from time to time!
One of Golden Cheese Cookie’s favorite things to do with her Y/N plush would be to dress it up in whatever amount of riches she can put on it the little doll.
One of her favorite outfits for it is one that makes the plush look like a resident of her own kingdom, complete with wings to match hers. Something she has planned for the real deal when she gets the opportunity!
Carameleon Cookie was so stoked to have a buddy to call his own within the forested areas close to the Silver Kingdom. It sure beats being alone all the time!
He can tell you that he isn’t too attached to the thing as he waits for the actual Y/N Cookie to come by. He just..doesn’t want to lose it, okay?!
It was good to have one of his loyal subjects always around to listen what he had to say! Even if it was just a plush version of them, Custard Cookie III could spend minutes just talking to the plush as if it were a real cookie!
It’s why he considers it as one of his best subjects in the kingdom! Right behind the real Y/N Cookie, of course!
Black Pearl’s Y/N plush is nothing short of the best thing to ever grace her waters. It was down to the very last detail the cookie of her dreams had.
She’d never tire of it, acting protective over the plush, something she’d be more aggressively so if the real Y/N Cookie was with her! The plush will look amazing within her dwelling!
Licorice Cookie didn’t care about Pomegranate’s venom spewing mouth these days, not when he has his bestest friend, the Y/N plush, with him!
He can truly confide his secrets and feelings towards the little plush, like his feelings towards Y/N Cookie, but it better not blab to you! He even uses the plush as a guardian for his diary!
Ha! Why wait in line for a plush when Lychee Dragon could just swipe it from that fumbler, Kumiho Cookie! She didn’t appreciate Y/N Cookie enough, so why not give it to a dragon that certainly will!
Kumiho was not having it though, angrily coming after the dragon for stealing her darling in plush form! She did not let Lychee’s lies get to her, she’s taking back that plush!
Affogato Cookie could just monologue all day to his plush on how he plans to take over the throne one day and Y/N Cookie will join him as part of that dream!
He’d promise nothing but the best life for you with a luxurious life with no worries or limits as he went to caress the plush’s cheek. The best victory would be to have you for himself while that Caramel Arrow Cookie watched! He can’t stop giggling to himself about it!
With how popular these plushies were getting, Lilac was particularly watchful of his. He already called it his own with the lilac scent and he’ll bring down anyone swiping his plush from him.
He always keeps it on his person, both as a precaution and that he has easy access to it to hold and cuddle close when he’s needy. It’s what he would’ve done to the actual Y/N Cookie.
Blackberry Cookie can always count on Y/N Cookie to help settle down Onion during one of her crying bouts, she enjoyed the company from them too. So it was a total win when she received a plush for herself and for Onion.
Onion always liked to go to bed holding both her doll and plushie to ensure a good night’s rest without the fear of a nightmare waking her up, for she trusts the Y/N plush to help her even in her dreams.
Stardust doesn’t mind sharing his Y/N plushie with his friend, Space Doughnut. After all, they share the same trait of seeing Y/N Cookie as a dear friend. Space Doughnut was just as trusting with theirs to Stardust as well!
Space Doughnut does get overly excited when they could play around with BOTH plushies, making Stardust laugh with a smile as Doughnut happily played the two plushies.
Was it really any surprise that Timekeeper Cookie wanted to be greedy and have a number of Y/N plushies? They’re her favorite, why wouldn’t she take them? It wasn’t like the original owners could prove anything against her.
Timekeeper Cookie cuddled herself amidst her plushies without a care in the world, relishing in seeing the face of the cookie she liked all around her. Though it wouldn’t hurt to try and grab a couple more to her collection…and then Y/N Cookie themself!
Shadow Milk’s puppet show was going to be wonderful with the guest of honor being Y/N Cookie themself! Almost! He was able to obtain a plushie from one of his clown faeries and he was absolutely adoring it!
The plushie is always going to be a part of his puppet shows, interacting with a doll of himself that he made. How romantic it would be if the two stuffed dolls danced and smushed together to replicate a kiss! It even made Shadow Milk himself blush at the thought of you and him possibly doing that too~
One of the faeries had gently opened White Lily’s glass case, placing down a Y/N plush they had gotten for her. She immediately grabbed it and clutched it tight close to her, a smile on her face being the indicator that she liked the plush already.
One of the faeries had gotten curious about what made this plushie so dear to her as she reached for it and tried to pull it out of her arms. She had to quickly reel her hand back when White Lily swiped at it, nuzzling the plushie closer to her body, shielding it from any further attempts.
Pitaya Dragon Cookie didn’t expect Snapdragon to enjoy their Y/N plush that much to the point that they whined for Pitaya to hand it over to them. While this was meant to be for Pitaya only, they didn’t mind it as they give it to the young dragon.
Snapdragon immediately swiped it up and flies around with the doll in their arms, babbling happily as they played around with the stuff toy. Pitaya couldn’t help but smile at the sight, it was just like when Y/N Cookie would play with Snapdragon themself…
Abyss Monarch Cookie didn’t find themself going out much, especially for something as small as a stuffed plush. Yet there they were, having went out and gotten a Y/N to call their own.
This sense of adoration they start to feel for this plush was almost on the same level as they had for Y/N Cookie themself. They gently picked it up and spun slowly around with it, was this feeling a sign and not a temporary emotion? This feeling of…longing…
Fire Spirit was so stoked to have receive his own plush that he couldn’t wait to have simmer down first before messing around with it, too enveloped in his own that his hands start to emit smoke touching the plush.
He started to freak out when he open his eyes to see that he had turned the plush into a pile of ash, crying in anguish as he tried to salvage what he can. He went back to Butterbear Cookie with the news and he was generous enough to give him a replacement, warning him to be more careful next time!
#brittle answers#cookie run x you#cookie run x reader#cr x reader#cookie run#crk x reader#cookie run kingdom x reader#cookie run kingdom#cr kingdom#cookie run ovenbreak#cookie run ovenbreak x reader#crob x you#crob x reader
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Operation get Mr Bucky and Momma together
Paring: Beefy and Teacher! Bucky x milf! reader
Summary: Bucky doesn't play favorites but Amaya is definitely his favorite, especially because her mom is hot.. Cue a 6-year-old trying to get Bucky to be her dad. {wc: 2.2k}
Warning: a bit of bucky being insecure but not that much, Karen parent being annoying, bucky is a fool but amaya is gonna fixed it.
a/n: I've been sitting on this for months but I had to step back from this account bc of everything. thankfully I finished this before my electricity went puff but not my best job. pls have mercy bc I'm rusty.
Part 2
Bucky knew there weren’t many male first-grade teachers. But honestly, it was his dream job. He was teaching the country's future and helping them become better people.
Also, 6-year-olds love him, especially with his fantasy land classroom he forced Steve to help decorate. Bucky loved being a teacher, and he loved his kids. Relatively easy to get up every day at 6 am when you love your job.
That being said, he knows he shouldn’t have a favorite student. So it’s basically written in the teacher’s rule book.
But Amaya was undoubtedly his favorite of his unruly kids. She was very spirited. Amaya loved helping out her classmates and talking to them. She was just the best student he had ever had.
She is amusing. Every day she comes to him with a story about her mom. Unfortunately, Bucky hadn't met her yet because she was busy with work. Still, he interacted with Amaya’s second contact, Natasha.
At this point, Bucky feels like he knows her. How she likes tulips. Her favorite color is pink, which is Amaya’s favorite, but that’s a funny coincidence. He knows that Amaya and her mom go to the museum every week on the day they have special events for kids. Amaya’s favorite exhibit is the one about mythical creatures.
“Momma likes the one with the paintings. She likes the one with the man who gives the girl a flower.” Amaya tells Bucky. Amaya always goes to Bucky’s desk after finishing her classwork because if she doesn’t, she distracts her classmates. Or give her classmates the answers, so this is the only way to keep her entertained. She always takes this time to draw something for Bucky to hang on his wall of drawings.
“Oh, Mister Bucky! Momma is going to come to pick me up today.” Bucky cursed mentally, completely forgetting today was parent-teacher conference.
Talking to 6-year-olds was a lot easier than talking to adults. Especially when you are telling parents that their kids are having problems. The worst part of the job, honestly. If Bucky could just teach his kids, send letters to the parents, and never interact with them, he would.
“Going to meet the elusive Miss (Y/N)?” Steve, his best friend, asked. Because of budget cuts, Steve was currently the art teacher for the entire school. Did he like it? Probably not having the kindergarteners put glitter in his hair, but he enjoyed a challenge.
“Apparently,” Bucky mumbled, opening his lunch. Just a ham and cheese sandwich because he was running late.
“She finally showing up to a conference?” Sam asked, heating up his lunch. Sam was the history teacher for the 4th and 5th graders. He was also a pain in Bucky’s ass, but he decided not to think about it and focused on his incoming stomach ache.
Fuck, now Bucky had to clean his classroom and prepare everything. What if one of those Karen parents shows up and starts complaining about stupid things? About how his classroom is Lord of the Rings theme and how that's bad for kids? Maybe about how he’s a male teacher? He is already spiraling.
“Oh, you are talking about Amaya’s mom? I met her when I was Amaya’s kindergarten teacher. She’s really nice and - “ Wanda started talking but was interrupted by her twin brother Pietro, the gym teacher.
“She is also smoking hot. Like ultimate Milf in this whole school. ” He comments, which makes Bucky feel even worse because how will he talk with a pretty girl? He hasn’t done that since college.
Wanda rolled her eyes at her brother and sat down next to Steve to eat her lunch.
“You’ll be great though, Barnes. She’s really nice, and you are a great teacher, so you won’t have any problems with her.” Wanda reassures her coworker. Bucky takes a deep breath and takes another bite off his sandwich.
“And I still believe my son should be seated in the front.” Mrs. Robinson complained, which she had been doing for the past hour and a half. Going past the hour dialogue they are supposed to be having. But since Amaya’s mom is running late.
“Mrs. Robinson, I understand, but some kids in the classroom require specific accommodations. Because of that, the entire front row is taken. So I can’t sit Tommy in the front. “ Bucky explained for the 10th time. Mrs. Robinson just rolled her eyes and huffed.
Before she could complain again, someone knocked on the door. A woman in formal and professional clothing stepped into the classroom. Amaya popped into the classroom with the brightest smile.
“Mister Bucky! I brought Momma!” She screamed excitedly. Amaya’s mom tried to quiet her, but from Bucky’s experience, Amaya is impossible to corral.
“Well, Mrs. Robinson, my 4 o'clock is here.” Bucky said nervously, trying to politely kick out Mrs. Robinson and her big-ass attitude.
“We could discuss this further in another parent-teacher conference.” It took everything for Bucky not to roll his eyes. Fucking self-observed parents think their children are the only ones that matter, Bucky thinks to himself.
“Sorry for my tardiness; I got held up at work.” Amaya’s mom apologizes. Woah, she really is pretty, Bucky thinks.
“Don’t worry, Mrs. (Y/L/N).” Bucky says, trying to catch his breath.
“Please call me (Y/N).” She smiled sweetly at Bucky. Bucky gulped.
“Let me get to the point; Amaya is a fantastic student. One of the best. She is above her group’s reading level. She writes pretty clearly for her age. No complaints from me; whatever you are doing at home is workin’.” Bucky explained, (Y/N) smiling at her daughter, who was too entertained with Bucky’s snowball on his desk.
“Thank you, but I can’t take that much credit. Maya absolutely adores you.” Bucky blushes at her praise.
“She’s a good kid; it’s easy to teach kids like her.” Bucky praised Amaya, who was surprisingly quiet. Which would scare Bucky because if there’s one thing he learned from teaching first graders is that quiet means trouble. But he dismissed it because she wouldn’t do anything wild with her mom right next to her.
“Thank you, Mr. Barnes, for everything. With getting a new job and having to provide for my family, you’ve literally given me so much peace.” (Y/N) leaned in closer.
“If I am being honest, I was worried about ‘Maya’s performance at school. “ She whispered, but Bucky gave her a reassuring smile.
“Amaya, could you please give these papers to Mr. Rogers?” Amaya nodded and grabbed the papers Bucky had handed her. Then, Bucky sent a text to Steve telling him to keep Amaya out of his classroom to talk to her mom.
“I haven’t noticed a difference in her behavior if that makes you feel any better,” Bucky reassured her. She sighed.
“I am worried about her. Ever since she was born, her dad has been in and out of her life. Now he has disappeared for good. Amaya has been acting like it doesn’t bother her, but no first grader should hide their feelings.” She confesses. Bucky wants to do two things. 1) kick Amaya’s father for being a piece of shit and abandoning such a precious child and her mom. And 2) himself for getting excited by hearing that (Y/N) is single. He can already hear his mother chastising him.
“I’m so sorry to hear that (Y/N).” Bucky said earnestly. She just shook her head.
“It’s okay. Any advice for me?” She said in a joking tone, trying to alleviate the tension. Bucky lets out a nervous chuckle.
“Just keep being there. In my experience, being present and making the child feel like they have a support system is the best way to help them during this difficult time.” Bucky smiled at her.
“Thank you. See you on Monday?” (Y/N) said, getting up from her chair.
“Yes. Definitely.” Bucky felt his heart beating at a faster pace.
This school year was definitely going to be interesting. So Bucky thinks, watching Y/N walking out of his classroom.
What Bucky doesn’t know is that Amaya plans to make life more enjoyable. She was supposed to be sleeping, but she heard Auntie Tasha’s voice and decided to say hi.
“Nat, you could’ve warned me, you know!” (Y/N) explained. Natasha laughed, handing her best friend a glass of wine.
“He is hot, isn't he?” Natasha grins. Amaya looked at her mom, who had a goofy smile. She has never seen her mom with a smile like that.
“Ridiculously hot. And his eyes? Nat, his eyes are just so gray. I almost spilled my entire life story right there and then.” (Y/N) groans. Natasha just laughs.
“It should be illegal to have a first-grade teacher look that hot.” (Y/N) added, grabbing a handful of popcorn.
“Just wait till you see him in casual Fridays. That man looks excellent in a Henley. “ Natasha joked, but that seemed to disturb (Y/N) even more. “Look out ‘Maya you might have a new daddy.”
What auntie Tasha said made Amaya think. Mister Bucky was her favorite teacher, and she wished her momma would be happy. Them together would mean that she would have Mister Bucky around forever, and Momma would be happy and have a goofy smile like that forever.
That’s when Operation get Mr. Bucky and Momma together was born.
Every day after finishing her classwork, Amaya would go to Bucky’s desk and talk to him. Most of the things she said were little seeds to push him to get close to her mom.
Today was different; Amaya’s patience was thinning. A week passed, and every day when her mom would pick her up, she saw the googly eyes her mom and Mister Bucky were giving each other. It’s time for the big guns, Amaya thought.
“Mister Bucky, do you have a dad?” Buck was shocked at Amaya’s question.
“Yes, I do.” Amaya sighed dramatically after hearing Bucky’s answer.
“I don’t… I wish I knew what that was like.” Bucky’s heart broke hearing that. Amaya had her head down, but Bucky couldn’t see her smirk.
“You will one day. I promise.” Bucky knew he shouldn’t say that but wanted to uplift her and give her hope.
“Hey, Mister Bucky, maybe you could be my dad!” Amaya said, doing a complete 180 in her demeanor. Bucky almost spits out his coffee, and he starts to cough. But unfortunately, he fell right into Amaya’s trap.
“I don’t know about that, Amaya,” Amaya smirks.
“But Mister Bucky, momma already likes you. You would be a great dad.” Was it embarrassing for Bucky that his 6-year-old student was trying to hook him up with her mom? Maybe but hearing that said mom liked him did give him a bit of an ego.
“Really?” Amaya nodded enthusiastically.
“She said that she really likes your eyes.” Amaya admitted. Bucky knew he shouldn’t be asking these questions. If Sam knew, he wouldn’t hear the end of it.
“Is there anything else she said?” Bucky asked, acting casually as if a 6-year-old was gonna read his body language. However, Amaya is too smart for her own good.
“I heard her telling Auntie Jen that she liked it when you wear red shirts.” Bucky made a note to buy more red shirts after school.
“Is your mom going to pick you up today?” Bucky asked; Amaya nodded.
“She said we were going to the mall today,” Amaya explained. She could feel her plan working, but who knows? Grown-ups were weird.
Bucky’s heart needs to catch a break. That being said, seeing (Y/N) every afternoon, his poor heart won't be getting any. Especially when she came in with her lawyer suits. It was like a punch in the gut.
But what really hit him like a punch in the gut was what Amaya said when her mom came to pick her up.
She grabbed Bucky’s hand and pulled him towards her mom, who was waiting outside the classroom.
“Momma, Bucky said he would be my daddy.” Amaya said with the biggest grin. Bucky choked on his own saliva and started coughing. While (Y/N) just started laughing.
“Did he now?” (Y/N) asked her daughter, that was excited that her plan “worked.”
“I- uhm. I didn’t say that she took it out of context. But, I mean- I” Bucky’s ramble was interrupted by (Y/N).
“It’s okay, Mr. Barnes. I know how Amaya can be. Don’t worry.” Bucky sighed out of relief.
“Mommaaaaa…” Amaya whined; her mom just rolled her eyes.
“Yes, ‘Maya?” (Y/N) asked in a snarky tone. Amaya signaled to her to lean down. Amaya whispered something to her. (Y/N) giggled with her daughter.
“Mr. Barnes, would you like to go out for coffee someday?” (Y/N) asked, Amaya still giggling behind her mom.
“I would love to.” Bucky said, which caused Amaya to do a little victory dance in the back. As if nobody could see her. (Y/N) turned around and laughed at her daughter’s antics. She pulled something out of her jacket, a piece of paper.
“I have to go, Mr. Barnes. Sorry for my little troublemaker.”She said, handing him the piece of paper with her personal phone number. Bucky was confused.
“What is this for?” Bucky asked, utterly confused about what this meant.
“For whenever you would like to get that cup of coffee.” She told him, grabbing Amaya’s hand and walking towards his card.
Bucky felt his cheeks heat up. He might admit that Amaya was his favorite student, even if she played matchmaker.
He looked down at the card. Oh, he is gonna call.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky x reader#bucky x y/n#bucky barnes x female reader#imagine bucky#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes x you
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It all started with a sketch of a horse and then I wanted to draw a rider for it... So here is Klein Twins :)
And huge thank you for all the nice comments and compliments in the tags! 💜💜
I love to read your thoughts about Clavis and it has also been nice to see that people have enjoyed my ramblings about that gentleman gremlin ^^
I was asked what route I took: I took dramatic route : D that's my default because I want to see what happens xd But for Clavis, I will most certainly do the romantic one too. But after Gilbert because I made a deal with a friend of mine that I got to play this game too. That we would do Gilbert's route next.
I'm looking forward to it actually, I know it might sound bit weird since I said in the last post that I probably couldn't do Chev's route because what happens in Clavis's... But I think the devil is in the details. With Gilbert (and Silvio) I know from the start that this is going to be a helluva toxic relationship and these guys are nuts. With Chev... it is more a tone issue and how he is shown. I probably could talk about it more at some point why I think that, but I will spare you guys from it now. But those are purely my opinions, no hate if you are a fan of his ^^
#this fandom is amazing#I love how kind people are#and active!#love to read your tags#Thank you#ikepri#ikemen prince#digital art#digital painting#nokto#licht#nokto klein#licht klein#ikepri fanart#ikemen series
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I really cannot express how much this piece of work means to me! As corny as it sounds I really found this story at the perfect point in my life, I initially started reading the impulse 1995 comics when I was 14 and I ended up falling upon this story when I was 17 I just immediately fell in love! The concept was so creative and fit into the pre-existing plot line perfectly! All the new characters are so enjoyable to read, Nathaniel and Jude have such a wonderful and also sad dynamic, as a twin my self every scene with them just really hit me in the heart! Six especially in the first several chapters was so comically annoying and clearly insecure, in a way that I think a lot of us can relate to, one way or another especially when we got to here is internal monologue, I’ve always been a sucker for the asshole character with an air of insouciance and superiority, who by the end of the story, just ends up being a pretty all right guy! And Five oh my god five! I love this guy so much! he’s just so genuine and someone who clearly cares deeply, and him being technically the physically oldest in the room, but also being the one with the least amount of experience is a very literal take on an experience I think a lot of people have felt, myself included, And I think we all know I’m a Three apologist, his whole story is just so devastating and haunting, part of me is always rooting for him, whilst also being terrified for what he might do to the other characters, there is so much complexity with his relationships with the other characters, such as five and four, every time theirs a seen with three and four the writing always makes me feel so on edge and is really able to puts me in three’s shoes! And god! The way three and five interact is so sweet and sad there relationship is just too much! The last chapter absolutely destroyed me!! And Bart and Thad are so perfectly characterized it truly just feels like a natural progression of their characters, the way they both are just really struggling to deal with the inevitability of change hit me so hard, like I said I started reading the impulse comics when I was 14 so these characters have such a place in my heart, so now being able to read about them going through these struggles, when I was also experiencing a lot of change, is such a comfort to me, it was like in a way these characters got older with me, and you know it’s always nice to see some of your childhood characters going through the same stuff as you, currently being a slightly terrified 18 year old, it was great to be able to read about two other slightly terrified 18 year olds, anyways I wanted to post some of my sketches from the past few weeks, and don’t worry there are definitely more to come cause I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop drawing these guys!
@cryptocism you really sent me on a journey, thank you for that!💖💖
#dc fanart#digital illustration#frequency#my art#art#bart allen#frequency fic fanart#impulse 1995#thad thawne#I really can’t express how much I love the way the story ended#it was just such a wonderful conclusion for a character that unfortunately didn’t get that in canon#Also I hope you all enjoy my silly emotional support playlist#the over the hedge soundtrack is elite I stand by that#same goes for the meet the Robinson soundtrack that stuff is fire
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Am I the Asshole for ruining a person's life?
©️©️©️©️©️©️ to find later.
This is an old story from when I was in high school. I was a quiet nerdy kid, but I was well liked. No one messed with me and I was on good terms with most of the popular kids. I just tended to like to read and learn. I did academic decathlon, I spent my breaks in the library, I was in the top of the class etc.
My junior year of high school, there were these two sisters that moved into the school. They weren’t twins, but they were in the same grade. The Older (We'll call her Lina) was held back one year. We'll call the younger one Wendy. Lina and Wendy were both painfully awkward little nerds, so we tended to be in the same circles. We were in the same classes and they also joined the Academic Decathlon. I spent a lotttttt of time around them.
Lina was a cunt.
Seriously an absolute cunt. She went out of her way to absolutely DESTROY any confidence Wendy had. Wendy was SO SMART. Way smarter than me. And Wendy didn't have a mean bone in her body. A very kind person. But Lina felt the need to point out EVERY small mistake or blamed everything that went wrong on Wendy. I once saw Lina SLAP Wendy and then demand Wendy apologize for it. Lina called her names, belittled her, etc. And it pissed me off.
It pissed me off even more when I met their Mom and it was SO OBVIOUS that their Mom favored Lina. She even said that "Lina is definitely the prettier one. She could be a model" when Wendy was RIGHT THERE. It pissed me off SO MUCH.
So, I might have reacted in a way that could be an asshole move.
Like I said, I was a quiet nerdy kid. But I was also pretty well liked and I used that to my advantage.
I became a little whisper in people's ears. I spent an ENORMOUS amount of time and effort turning everyone against Lina. I spread rumors that were just baaarely exaggerating the truth. I encouraged people to shit talk Lina and talk kindly about Wendy. I basically changed Wendy's reputation into a glowing saint in the eyes of the school (not difficult, Wendy was great) and I turned Lina's reputation into garbage. Like, actual garbage.
It got to the point where Lina had no friends. No one DARED to risk being seen with her. Everyone loved to shit talk her. She couldn't keep a secret for anything. If she tried to confide in someone, the news would come out immediately. No one was on her side. I even had her boyfriend spilling embarrassing intimate secrets. He kept dating her just so he could make fun of her.
Well, she did have one friend. Lina had me. I was such a kind and faithful friend, who would NEVER gossip about her or be mean. She could tell me anything.
She even drew this REALLY pretty portrait of me. Just a pencil drawing on sketchbook paper. Whatever else Lina was, she was a good artist. It looked just like me.
I still have it, btw, it really good piece of art.
(I didn't have to worry about it staining my reputation, I was already known as being too kind for my own good. It's really not that hard to get a nice girl reputation.)
Anyways, I have been told that this was an asshole move when I tell this story. I don't think it was and I don't regret it, but other people seem to think it was excessive. When I think back to how much more CONFIDENT Wendy was by the time we graduated, and how she went on to an Ivy League college, I'm glad I ruined her sister's social life. Lina was so stressed out that she couldn't even TRY to harrass Wendy. And if she HAD tried, Lina would have had the student body at her throat. I didn't just ruin Lina, I also helped Wendy gain her footing in a new school.
Anyways, WAS I the asshole for ruining her? Or were my actions just?
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Childhood Dream
Fluff, Story Building, Light Smut (Handjob, Facial)
Chapter 225
1740 Words
(Sana has been interested in making one of her early childhood dreams come true. As a reward she gives you a memorable moment.)
Ever since you and Sana went to the construction site and took a tour of the house, she’s been a bit more happier than usual. She goes to your office in the mornings when you call on the progress of the house and eagerly listens to them. You even asked her if she wanted a copy of the plot and house layout since she would constantly look at yours.
Obviously, she agreed, and you got her a set. She would often ask you questions whenever she had a hard time understanding something. You were more than happy to help her out and keep her busy. Surprisingly, she picked up what you taught her quickly and even asked if it was possible to build something else on the property.
“What did you have in mind?”
“Don’t laugh, okay?”
“I won’t, I promise.”
“I want to build a daycare.”
You see the seriousness in her eyes and ask, “Why do you want to build one?”
“Well… growing up, I always wanted to be a kindergarten teacher. Obviously, that didn’t happen, but after talking to Chaeyoung’s mom, she told me she used to work at a daycare after her children got a bit older. She told me about help experience, and it seems like having one would be great.”
You’re surprised by their conversation and didn’t know that Sana felt that way. It’s true that having daycare or kindergarten would be easier for members once the children get older. It’s even more important now after the experience that Sana went through; you can’t imagine what would occur if the public found out about the existence of your children.
“You’re right. Maybe having one is a good idea. How about we talk to the rest of the members?”
Sana giggles and says, “I already talked to them, and they said yes.”
“Haha, so it wasn’t much asking me but just telling me to build one.”
“Yes.”
“Okay, did you have anything in mind?”
The two of you spend most of the morning going over where the daycare would be and how big. You drew multiple sketches and drawings of what the building could have, such as a room for infants, two- to three-year-olds, four- to five-year-olds, and a kitchen. Sana mentioned that having a nice kitchen with homemade meals, a teacher's lounge, and a large playground would be nice for the kids. It took a while until the two of you could finalize the number of rooms and if having the infants separated from the rest was best or if having them in a detached building was better.
“What about the teachers?” you asked.
“Well, Chaeyoung’s mom said she would like to be one of the infant teachers, and Jihyo’s mom said they were more than willing to help. Mina mentioned it to her mom and said she would be willing to move and help with the twins. I wanted to ask my mom, but I don’t want to mention anything about kids until I’m better.”
You pull her in for a hug and hold her tight as she closes her eyes and relaxes. Once she’s a bit better, you both continue and decide where to place the build. “How about here? It’s away from the house, and we can have a nice playground.”
Sana looks around at the layout of the plot and agrees that having it away from the house would be best. “I remember my mom taking me to kindergarten on her bike. Maybe we can do the same,” she said, laughing as she tried to remember her childhood moments.
“That seems like fun. I’ll try to see if it's possible to build it. I’ll try to get it started as soon as possible if we can.”
Sana stands up from her chair and kisses you on the cheek, “Thank you!” she skips out of your office and goes off to see the children.
—————
A few days pass, and you come back from talking with the developers. Everything was approved, and I wanted to surprise Sana with the news. You walk to the living room and see her sleeping on the couch with Ari on her stomach.
“Sana, wake up.”
She rubs her eyes and turns towards you, “No, let me sleep.”
“Come on, you need to head upstairs.”
“I don’t want to, I’m…I’m going to sleep here” and turns over.
You slowly pick up Ari, holding her in your arms, and walk her upstairs to Chae’s mom. You knock and see Chae’s mom changing Hina. “Aww, she fell asleep. You can place her here,” she said as she pointed at the bed.
You kiss both Ari and Hina on the forehead before saying thanks and heading out to the living room. “Thank you.”
Now, in front of Sana, you nudge her arm, trying to wake her up, but it’s no use. “Alight, I guess it will be getting my workout for tonight.” You place your hand at each end and pick up Sana. Surprisingly, she doesn’t weigh much at all, and you can easily carry her to your room. You place her on the bed and ask, “Sana, did you wash your teeth?”
Still sleeping she mumbles, “Nee…” and tuck her in and give her a kiss.
You’re woken up to freezing cold hands rubbing against your thighs, “Good morning, Sana.” You turn around and see Sana with a smile, “Good morning, baby.” You chuckle when she goes up your inner thigh and into your shorts, “Wait, what are you doing?”
“Just wanted to say thanks.”
“What do you mean?”
“Sorry, but I heard your phone go off and saw that it was from a girl, so I am just a bit jealous. I read the text and saw that the permits and layout were approved. Said that you were going to have a meeting with the developers.” You see the light shine in her eyes by the news.
Suddenly, you feel the cold sensation in your private regions and say, “Wait, what are you doing?”
“I just want to say thanks. I know it’s not much, but I hope you like it.”
You feel her ice-cold fingers grab your limp cock and groan, “Ahh… fuck… it’s cold.” Still having the bedcovers, you can only imagine what is going on as you feel swaying your cock back and forth. Little by little, it slowly gets hard, “Are you ready?”
“Yeah…”
“Tell me if it feels good, okay.”
“Okay…”
With her thumb and index finger around the tip of your cock she slowly peels your foreskin back until your mushroom tip pops out. Now hardened, she pulls her hand back out and spits on her hand before going back down. She teases you by gently rubbing the tip of your cock with her wet fingers, making you moan from how sensitive it is.
“Do you like that, babe?”
“Yeah, I do.”
She then grabs your shaft and slowly begins to stroke your cock. Sana kisses your chest, causing your cock to twitch. She increases the pace of her stroking, squeezing, and tilting it up. This causes your cock to throb and Sana to simile by your moaning.
“Do you like that baby? Me stroking your big cock with my small fingers?”
“I do… I love it.”
She strokes it even faster and faster, as well as tightening the grip of her hand, “How bad do you want to cum?”
“I want to cum, I haven’t done it in a while.”
“Where do you want to cum?”
“Fuck… I don’t know, I just want to cum…”
“Want to paint my face white?”
Sana begins to giggle when she sees your cock react to her words of painting her face with cum. She flips the bedsheet over, revealing your throbbing cock, and crawls out of bed. She gets on her knees right in front of the bed. You get off the bed and stand right in front of her, stroking your cock with a firm grip.
She looks directly into your eyes as she sees that you’re about to reach your peak. “Cum for me, baby; cover my pretty face in your thick cum.”
You’re reaching your peak and can feel all your energy concentrating down in your core. “Fuck… I’m cumming! In one hard stroke, you watch as a rope of white hot cum flies and covers Sana’s. Her eyes are closed as it paints her eyebrows, nose, whole mouth, and small breasts.
“It’s so hot! You must have been so backed up, baby.”
“I was, but it was worth it,” you say as you look at the work of art you just made, using Sana’s body as your canvas.
She collects as much cum as she can with her tongue before showing you the amount of cum you shot in her mouth. She gargles you cum side to side and swallows it, then sticks out her tongue, showing you that it’s gone.
“Thank you for the breakfast, babe.”
She stands up, grabs her phone, and poses in front of her mirror, taking a photo of her upper body covered in your baby batter.
“How about joining me for a shower?”
“I’d love to.”
You smack her ass, making her giggle until you hear a pair of loud footsteps running across the hallway.
“Apa!! Apa!”
Both of your faces are horrified as the steps get louder. “I’m going to the shower; I don’t want the kids to see me like this!”
You quickly grab your bathrobe and the bathroom as Jisoo knocks on the door. Chaeyoung’s mom opened the door, and the two sisters yelled, “Apa??” They tilt their head and are surprised not to see you in your room but then hear the water running in the bathroom. “It seems like your daddy is taking a shower. How about we come back later and say good morning to him?” They both nodded their heads and ran out of the room.
Chaeyoung’s mom was about to close the door when she noticed small stains that led from the bed to the bathroom. She walks towards it, sees the clear substance, and smiles before heading back and closing the door, “What a time to be young.”
#twice smut#kpop smut#twice#twice fluff#kpop fluff#twice sana#sana fluff#sana minatozaki#sana smut#minatozaki sana#TM smut#kpop male reader#kpop idol smut#kpop x reader#idol x male reader#girl idol smut
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four — not not serious
fuck ur instincts — suna x reader & atsumu x reader
you and suna are just fooling around—so why does he care so much when you start falling in love with someone else?
previous — masterlist — next
word count. 1.6k
content. swearing, just a bunch of fluff
“I don’t get it,” Osamu says, face pulled into a frown. “Ya haven’t slept with ‘er yet?”
Atsumu kicks his brother in the stomach, eyes trained on the screen as he pulls the lead in Mario Kart. “Fuck yeah!” he cheers. “And, yeah, ya pig. Not everythin’s about sex y’know.”
“Ya fuckin’ cheated! That doesn’t count!”
“Yer just a sore loser.” It’s Atsumu’s turn to receive an elbow to the ribs. “Asshole!” he hisses, throwing the controller to the side when he still somehow finishes first. “Serves ya right.”
The twins both lean back into the couch, the adrenaline washing away. Atsumu adds another notch under his name on the tally they’ve been keeping of their wins and losses. The score so far is 3-12 in Osamu’s favor (but Atsumu swears he’ll beat him over the summer).
“Ya serious ‘bout the girl?”
Atsumu groans. His brother has been trying to know more about you for whatever nosy reason and he finds it nothing short of annoying. “What does it matter to ya, scrub?”
“Just wanna know if I’m gonna have t’make more food at Christmas, s’all,” Osamu says in faux innocence. “So? Is it serious?”
The golden-haired twin wrinkles his nose, the face he always makes when he’s in deep thought. “It’s not serious,” he says eventually, then adds, “But it’s not not serious.”
“Oh?”
“It’s… nice. She’s nice.”
Osamu snickers at the look on his brother’s face. He’s clearly more interested in this “nice” girl than he lets on. He already figured as much when his brother started being all quiet about it, because if there’s one thing he knows about Atsumu, it’s that he’s never quiet. So there’s bound to be something going on.
“When am I gonna get to meet her?”
“Fuck off."
“You look nice,” Kiyoko says, leaning against the door of your room. A smile plays on her lips as she watches you fix your hair in the mirror. “That dress in particular is really pretty. Where’d you get it?”
You give her a sheepish look, glancing down at the green ensemble that is definitely not yours. You wonder if she’s noticed the shoes yet. “All my clothes are dirty.”
She rolls her eyes fondly and makes her way over to her dresser. Opening a drawer, she produces a pair of earrings with a dainty flower motif and hands it to you. “Here,” she says. “It goes with the dress. And the shoes.”
You take the earrings and launch yourself at her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “Thank you, thank you, I love you!”
“Sure, sure, whatever.” She chuckles. “Where’s your laundry? I can throw it in with mine.”
“I will marry you and have your children and serve you every day of my life.”
She ponders for a moment then says, “I’ll settle for cake.”
You nod earnestly, holding her hands in yours. “Whatever you say, my lord and savior.”
Your roommate helps you finish getting ready. She does your hair when you get stuck not knowing whether to put it up or down and tries to clear some of the mess you’ve made in your room. You swear she’s a saint. Why else would she be this great?
“What’s with all the date jitters?” she asks eventually as the two of you sort through the pile of clothes on her bed. At this point, you can barely tell who owns what.
“What do you mean?”
She gestures at you, drawing your attention to your appearance. “You never put this much effort into dates.”
Your mouth drops into an “O” as you shrug. “I don’t know,” you say. “‘Tsumu said he had something fun planned and to dress a little fancy. So here we are.”
“‘Tsumu, huh?” Kiyoko gives you a teasing look. “That’s been going on for a while.”
“Just three weeks,” you say. “Not even a month yet.”
“Yeah, but that’s like a lifetime for you,” she points out. “When was the last time you dated someone for that long?”
You frown. “I’ve been with Rin for like a year now.”
“That’s different though, isn’t it?”
You never thought about it really. You never thought of Suna as anything like a boyfriend, but you knew he wasn’t exactly just a friend either. It wasn’t even that you fooled around with him. There was always something more there, something deeper. A genuine care for one another at the very least.
You wonder if he thinks that too.
“Text,” Kiyoko says, passing your phone to you when it buzzes.
tsumu: am outside :D
“He’s here,” you tell her, putting your phone in your purse. You stand up and strike a ridiculous pose, one hand on the back of your head and the other on your hip, lips pouting. “How do I look?”
“So fuckable.”
“Thanks.” You grin, opening the door. “Love you! See you later!”
You find Atsumu at the entrance and he… looks nice. He’s ditched his usual clothes for a crisp white button-up and nice pants. Even his hair is styled a little better. Not that you ever thought that he looked bad, but he clearly made an effort today.
You realize you’ve been staring at him for so long that you haven’t even noticed that he’s been looking at you too. His eyes are wide as he gapes at your figure.
“Ya look…” He let out a little chuckle. “Yer beautiful.”
You feel your cheeks heat up as you look down at Kiyoko’s stolen shoes, unable to look him straight in the eye. Something inside you erupts. Well, that’s new, you think to yourself. What even is that?
“Thank you.” You smile at him. “You look great too, you know.”
Now it’s his turn to get all embarrassed. “Thanks.” He takes your hand in his and gently leads you closer to him. “Ready to go?”
You squeeze his hand. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”
The two of you make your way through the courtyard. It’s a nice summer day and people are out and about, talk and laughter filling the air around you. Some students have gone home to visit their families so it isn’t as crowded as usual, but more than a few of you are still on campus for the summer semester. Everything is warm and bright and perfect, like it can stay this way forever.
Atsumu leads you past the benches and the trees, taking a turn before you reach the parking lot.
“Where are we going?” you ask, expecting him to lead you to his car like he usually does and wondering why you went the other way.
He turns to you with a grin. “It’s a surprise.”
You end up walking into one of the buildings near your residence hall, the science building. It’s empty save for a few members of the maintenance staff mopping the floors and airing out the rooms. They don’t even look your way as Atsumu leads you up the stairs, all the way to the top of the building on the third floor.
Your brows furrow as he lets go of your hand and goes to push the door to the rooftop open. It’s usually locked (you know this because you and Oikawa once tried to sneak up there when you were wasted), but this time, it opens and Atsumu nods his head for you to step outside.
When you walk through the door, you’re met with the vast concrete expanse of the rooftop. Except it isn’t as empty as you expected it to be. In the middle of it, there’s a screen and a projector and a blanket and a bunch of pillows. You notice a basket lying nearby beside a cooler that looks like it’s been through a lot.
“What is this?” you ask, eyes fixed on the scene before you.
Atsumu shrugs, that boyish charm of his seeping through. “I wanted to do something nice.”
You peel your gaze away from the little theater on the rooftop and turn to look at him. “Something nice?”
His eyes go big, panic taking over him. Is it too much? Do you not like it? This probably wasn’t what you expected at all. He should’ve just taken you to a nice restaurant. He didn’t have to do all of this.
“Fuck, I’m sorry I didn’t tell ya ‘bout it. If ya don’t like it, we can just—”
Before he even realizes it, your lips are on his. He’s still gawking when you kiss him softly, deeply. It takes him a moment, but soon he’s kissing you back, his hands going to your waist and yours wrapping around his neck.
You pull back and he finds you smiling at him, all toothy and giddy like a kid in a candy store.
“I love it,” you tell him, pulling him into a hug. “Thank you.”
He leans down and kisses you again. “Don’t even mention it.”
When you separate, you’re still clinging to his hand as he shows you the whole set-up. In the basket, he reveals pizza from the place you kept telling him about, some popcorn, and a bunch of sweets. There’s a few cans of your favorite soda in the cooler and a tiny tub of ice cream (he tells you that he was supposed to get wine but his brother blew through their allowance for the week). You sit down on the blankets while you pick which food to eat first while he goes to set up the movie: Pulp Fiction, because you once swore he had to see it.
He sits down beside you and you give him that smile again, curling into his side. You turn to watch the movie as the sun sets around you, and Atsumu finds he can’t look away from your face. He notices the curve of your nose, the shape of your lips, the way your hair falls just right. He decides he could look at you forever and he’d never get bored, he’d always find something new and beautiful about you.
It’s not serious, he tells himself. But it’s not not serious either.
notes. and so it begins ;)
#hqbaby.fyi#hqbaby#haikyuu#suna rintarou#suna#suna rintarou x reader#suna x reader#miya atsumu#atsumu#miya atsumu x reader#atsumu x reader#haikyuu x reader#suna rintarou fic#suna fic#miya atsumu fic#atsumu fic#haikyuu fic
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two shots of ristretto, please!
One must have heard of espresso, but ristretto? No?
Well, translated to 'restricted' in Italian, ristretto is another version of espresso, but of a sweeter and more intense quality than the latter— though, you reckon, there's no entity in this world, sweeter and more intense than that white-haired, blue-eyed enigma-turned-menace of yours.
▸ yakuza heir! gojo satoru x uni classmate! fem! reader; TIMESKIP; dad! gojo satoru x mom! reader; FLUFF AND HUMOR GALORE; popularising the headcanon that gojo is so terrifyingly gojo for everyone, except his crush; the said crush's smart & not dense, for the first time in my stories; there is yakuza so there's a gun and there's a tiny bit of violence; brief appearance of utahime, shoko, suguru & nanami; POST-TIMESKIP: the most adorable twins ever, sachiko and sachiro, are back, with tons and tons of fluff!!!!!
▸ belongs to the series 'tang!' — same universe as the work 'every rose and its 'twin prickles'' — but you can treat this as a stand-alone fic if you wanna!
▸ i know i described the reader to be smart and stuff, but the thing is: she is smart, of sorts, that is. and the post-timeskip portion is tooth-rottingly fluffy but not for satoru; sachiko & sachiro will never let their papa get some loving from their dearest mama... AND this is 4.4k wc long— idk how i wrote so freaking much! anyways, whatever it is–
▸ i don't own the characters, the image or the divider used. please don't plagiarize or translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️
Gojo Satoru was born with three things.
His name.
His looks.
And, of course– the baggage certain to tag along with the above two.
Cup of coffee languishing in the frost of your ignorance, you lock gaze, the first time, with the famous infamous scion of the Gojo’s, an awfully stormy morning at the café your friend works at.
Said friend looks halfway on the path to sweet, sweet dreams, resting her head on folded arms on your table — smiling, you tuck a wayward strand of hair behind the shell of her ear, and return to your sly spying on the group seated couple of feet away. You think you see Gojo look at you yet another time — it must be an error of your eye, you reckon, given how he's giving a sharp grin to the man across from him, in the very next instant.
Yeah, that's what it is. No one can possibly switch from shooting that level of thoughtful gaze to that level of feral grin in that short span of time. Yeah, it must have been a mistake of your silly eye.
Anyways, whatever it is, to say you hate drawing attention to yourself will be the greatest understatement of the century— so you decide to look away for a beat, to avoid even the faintest hint of suspicion, eyes going back to the chemical reactions strewn across the mess you call notes— only to snap back to the white-haired boy, widening in horror from the click! then the scene crashing onto your brain.
Gojo chuckles, eyes flitting from the gun aimed at the space between his eyebrows to the man holding it. "Aww," you register him croon, that self-sabotaging dumbass, "resorting to such cheap violence so quickly, Zenin-san? Grew tired of a civil conversation already? Tsk. What a pity."
Another time and you think you'll consider this precise moment to be when you wake your friend up and slowly sneak away into the kitchen then out, via the back door. Another day and you know you'll consider this very second to be when you return your focus to your assignment on carbohydrates, all the while hoping you or your friend won't be cast into a brawl none of you are a part of—
Too bad it isn't another time or another day, though.
Biting back a grimace, you shut your laptop and rise from your chair with a loud clatter.
"Forcing someone isn't really a nice way to make a deal, y'know," you hum, walking over to their table and plopping down onto the free seat next to Gojo, "what is better is to explain the pros and cons to the one opposite to you and try to convince them. Gently. And if that doesn't work, manipulate the hell out of them. But this?" you shoot the metal gun a disappointed glance, shaking your head, "this is a method even I know I shouldn't use to get my rival to agree to something, though I'm not from a criminal background."
The man– Zenin, you correct yourself; the second largest yakuza clan right after Gojo's family, your memory supplies after a beat – gives a slow look from the weapon to you, a scowl appearing on his features. And barks – voice, a disgusting grating noise to your sleep-deprived self.
"Who the fuck are you, girl? And why the fuck are you interfering in this?"
You pause. Okay, this wasn't what you were expecting when you first strolled out here. You were expecting a yell, a scuffle; worst case, the gun aimed at your precious brain. But this? One question about your identity, and the other about your reason for approaching them? You haven't prepared yourself for this!
Frowning, you cast a glance to your left, only to find the white-haired boy stare at you, staggered, with wide eyes and flushed cheeks; then at your friend who's snoring away like she doesn't give a damn about napping at work; then at the man glowering at you.
You sigh, rubbing your temples.
"Who the fuck I am... that's for me to know and for you to find out,” you answer, smirking, before growing serious again as you rush to explain, upon catching a murderous glint in the man’s eyes, “I mean, c'mon, y'all are the yakuza. This should be a piece of cake for you, shouldn’t it?"
The man's glare only worsens in result; stamping down the apprehension in your mind, you continue, "And as for why the fuck I'm interfering in this—"
You abruptly fall silent.
Offering the boy beside you a panicky glance.
Wondering what the hell you can say in reply.
Should you say, "I've been listening to you threaten the poor boy for a good thirty minutes now, saying he's gonna face dire consequences, or some shit like that, if he doesn't share the area in the east with the Zenin's or refuses to marry their third daughter— who I'm pretty sure, y'all have made into nothing but a maid, a cook and a broodmare. Poor girl, being spoken of by her own family member to a stranger boy, as if she isn't a human being but something with no life or ambition. But, hey, how you raise your kids is honestly your own problem and I’m not here to drill some lesson into your head– though I guess, folks like you could really use some. Anyways, whatever the fuck it is, I'm here because I JUST CAN'T SEE ANOTHER BEING FORCED TO DO SOMETHING AGAINST THEIR WILL. AND I’M GONNA PROTEST AGAINST IT AS LONG AS I’VE A BREATH LEFT IN MY LUNGS."
The inner-you tsks at the outer-you.
You groan inwardly, shifting to the next plan already.
So, must you say, "Gojo's my classmate, who has been sitting behind me since the first class of the year, and very weird to say, but I have also been finding him here at this coffee shop, every day I visit since that day, sitting at this specific table and scribbling in a notebook for hours at end— and, yeah, way weirder to admit out loud, but I guess I have also formed some kind of attachment to him? 'Cause of which, I feel, I get worried when I see him being actively threatened? And, yes, of course– all the while I totally ignore that he's next in line to a notorious criminal family or the fact that he's never even noticed me once before today."
Another click! bounces off the walls into your ears, making you draw away from your mind back to the situation at hand. You settle for offering a shrug.
"Why I'm here is because Gojo is one of my acquaintances and I just can't seem to stand someone being forced to do something against their will."
Your statement earns a mocking laugh from the man, but before you rush to defend yourself and the fact you spoke the truth, a calloused palm rests on your forearm. Gojo's gaze flits from you to the gun still pointed at him then back to you. You feel a mild tremor in his fingers when they meet your skin. Good heavens, Gojo must be really scared, huh?
His careful voice reaches you, a far cry from the haughty tone he was employing with the Zenin fellow earlier, "It's best if you leave now. Go take your friend and go away. And don't come back here. At least not until sometime later, yeah? Things are gonna get a hell lot messy and I don't want you to see that."
For the first time in many days, the buzz of caffeine in your veins weakens, giving way to the thrum of worry you feel at Gojo’s words. Has this bastard already accepted his fate!? Hell no! Not if you can help it!!
You give his arm a light pat.
"While I leave you here, all alone, huh?" Shaking your head, you click your tongue. "Nope! Not gonna happen, mister. My parents raised me way better than that. Besides, you might not be knowing me but I've been knowing you for a while now, and despite what everyone says of you being the crown prince, or whatever, in the underworld — I ain't leaving you here, with your life at the mercy of a person who doesn't even have a shred of respect for others' freedom of choice and stuff."
A noisy yawn sounds in the background, soon followed by a noisier series of snores. Gojo's mouth opens and closes a few times, like a funny fish, before he inquires, voice brimming with disbelief, "You... have noticed me? Since when?"
You blink, then chuckle. "Of course, I have. Since the first day, if I'm being honest here," you reply, then add as a hasty after-thought, so that he doesn't see you as a weirdo, "I mean, it's tough not to notice you, y'know? Not when you're—"
A deafening crash interrupts you in the middle of your sentence. You look away from the boy to find the man standing now, face contorted in a mix of fury and desperation while he shifts the gun's muzzle from Gojo to you, then back to Gojo, words leaving him in a harsh yell.
"THE GIRL NOTICED YOU 'CAUSE YOU'RE THE GOJO SATORU AND YOU'RE HANDSOME AS FUCK. NOW, CAN YOU PLEASE SHUT THE FUCK UP, BITCH? AND YOU — YOU SICK, SPOILT GOJO BRAT– YOU SAID YOU DON'T HAVE A MINUTE TO SPARE? BUT HERE YOU ARE, CHATTING YOUR LIFE AWAY WITH THAT GIRL—"
A second deafening crash reverberates through the small shop– and you think you see your life flash before your eyes– but not before the man drops to the ground, most probably unconscious and hopefully not too damaged to lead a functional life, and very earnestly not dead. The gun clatters to the ground beside him. You turn to your classmate, eyes wide. Gojo returns your gaze, unblinking and slack jawed.
Heart thundering in your ears, you hurry to explain yourself, "I–"
"You smashed that plate on that guy's head."
Gojo’s blunt words bring you to a still, making your eyes drift to the fragments of the unlucky glass plate, to the unluckier but-totally-deserved-it Zenin, then back to your classmate. A little more awe on the boy’s face and you think his jaw might hit the floor.
You nod slowly.
"Yeah, but as self-defence. I mean, you saw how eccentric that man was acting, right? I had to do something to protect both of us," you explain, looking away from the pair of blue eyes watching you closely, to your friend who still seems to be lost in the land of sleep (how much exactly did she drink last night, huh?) to your grey sneakers, voice growing mumbled with every other syllable you utter.
"But that doesn't mean you've to feel some sort of debt towards me or anything. I too was kind of at mistake then, I guess... what with me rambling so fucking much when there was a literal gun at your head. I should have acted with more tact then – if I had done so, then maybe this mess could've been avoided. I mean, I've never seen these things before in my life, y'know? Except in TV shows, that is. Yet, this foolish me here thought she could just swoop in and save you like some sort of a hero..."
Sullen, you trail off, face growing warm from embarrassment whilst your mind devises a plan on how to clear up the mess you created, many thanks to your foolhardy nature, when a muffled laugh reaches you. Gojo's eyes twinkle in enjoyment at the bewildered huff you give him.
"You did save me like a real hero back then, y'know," he says, grinning a wide grin – before it disappears, making way for a much reserved, much shyer(??) version. A giggly voice within you whispers he looks just as sweet as he did with his cute dimples. The boy continues, carding a hand through his mess of white hair, with a casual glance at the man, "And, as for the mess you keep mentioning, don't you worry. Gun shots create more mess than a plate smashed on the head. And if I can clear that within a minute– this won't even take me a full second, Miss Hero. Don't you worry for this at all. But, yeah, thank you."
Now, you don't really know if it was the sincerity in his voice as Gojo thanked you, or the fact that he has to clean up the mess you made in the first place, or the stunned feeling so clearly visible in the blue colour of his irises when you admitted to noticing him— whatever it is, you find yourself not wanting to leave anything unsaid between you both.
Moreover, the realization that lives are considered extremely low-on-value in the world of crime, so much that guns are whipped out at the tiny disagreements or boasts are made on how quick a gunshot mess can be cleared by them — this realization doesn't make things any easier for you.
Giving the injured man and your napping friend a momentary glance, you return your focus to Gojo, whose eyes are now narrowed at his mobile, and speak those words weighing heavy on your mind right now.
"I really noticed you since the first day, Gojo," you say. The boy pauses his typing, confused gaze darting to you. "But not just 'cause you're the Gojo Satoru, or 'cause you're really pretty — which you totally are, by the way— but mainly because you had ambled into our first class, on the first day, a magnificent hour late, with your two friends— and my first thought seeing you was, what sort of a fucking entitled brat is this guy, sauntering in as if he owns the entire place."
A beat passes before the boy erupts into chuckles, though the tense quality of them doesn't escape your notice. Pocketing his mobile, he shoots you a small smile. "And what about noticing me after that? It was just my name and looks which kept your attention hooked onto me, wasn't it?"
The question– the mumbled way it was asked, more so– sends you into a brief bout of musing silence. Gojo's eyes remain trained on you the entire while — quite contrary to the innumerable adjectives you've heard to describe them: oceanic blue, sparkling blue, mesmerising blue, kind-of-startling blue– you think they're just... blue. So blue, you wonder if there's anything as blue as that gaze peering down at you.
Perhaps not.
Lips curving into a smile, you hum, "Yes and no. Yes, 'cause that was the main reason why my eyes kept trailing you whenever we were in the same place. No, 'cause they were the reasons only until I realised what kind of person you are, and how very different you're from what I first thought of you. I got new reasons after those."
"Mind telling me those new reasons?"
Gojo's nervous question widens the smile on your face. Casting your friend a glance — goodness, how many drinks did she really have at the party she went to last night — you reply, making your voice light and friendly, "Your personality made me curious. You are old money, with good looks to boot— you're literally the heartthrob of every girl on campus! Still, I've never seen you with anyone from them— never with anyone outside your group of three friends — though, I got to admit, the blond boy looks nothing less than constipated for a week, when he talks to you."
That last comment draws a chuckle from the white-haired boy. The tightness in his shoulders seems to relax a bit, you note with relief. Face still carrying the same smile as before, you continue speaking.
"And the second point which made me curious was how different you behave in different places. Your voice rings across the cafeteria every day during lunch yet you stay so quiet here for hours at end. You once said you've never been much of a book person, yet I always see you in this shop, immersed in your notebooks. And– what has struck me the most of all is the way you tend to go out of you way to annoy others – I've been sitting in front of you in class for a good three months now, yet you've never ever irritated me in the slightest. Kind of strange, ain’t it?"
Stunned silence comes as the answer to your question, what with the addressed classmate of yours, rooted to his spot on the ground, blue eyes as round as the plate you had smashed on the man's head some time ago and the expression on Gojo's face, almost as if you've grown a couple of heads in the while you have been chatting with him.
Or more like monologuing, now that you think about it.
This guy is always so chatty with others: he was even then with that gun cocked to take his life — then why the fuck is he so unspeaking right now, eh?
"Oh God, Satoru, I can't believe your plan of lurking in the places she goes to, to catch her eye, worked out!!" "Are you asking her out right now, bro?" "Can you all please move? It's raining like hell outside and I'm not really keen to get my leather jacket wet, thank you."
The noisy rumbles of rain and thunder stream in through the opened door, before the latter is closed again, snapping you out of your internal monologue, a bit too sudden and harsh for your liking. Three pairs of eyes regard you with an utmost curiosity — you return them a blink before dragging your eyes away and looking at the boy a good foot away, only to find him resolutely staring at the overhead lights. Two pretty long (and pretty weird) seconds pass before you finally decide to tear your gaze away from him to the rain-soaked glass window of the eatery.
A face with creased brows and warmed cheeks greets you from your reflection.
Screwing your eyes tight shut in an attempt to ward off an annoying headache you can feel build up, slowly yet steadily, you let out a sigh.
Friendship with the Gojo Satoru seems good enough but romance with the Gojo Satoru... that doesn’t seem half-as-good, right?
Right?
"Wrong."
Your son's insistent voice, coupled by the tiny fist he slams down on the table, breaks you out of your reverie and you turn to find Sachiro wearing a frown, tears brimming in his eyes– eyes which move away from his father and sister to you, pinning your drowsy form beneath the weight of their moisture.
Stifling a weary sigh, you place the menu card back on the table and coo, "Aw, Sachiro! What's wrong, baby? Are Papa and Sachiko saying mean things to you again? Are they still teasing you regarding today's incident?"
Although, you suppose to yourself, catastrophe might suit what happened today, way more than the word 'incident'— what with the shrieks, cries and yells resounding through your flat in the short time you took to get ready for your Sunday lunch at a restaurant. Rubbing his eyes a little, the little boy scoots closer to you and nods weakly, wrapping his tiny arms round you. Pressing a kiss to the top of his head, you direct a stern look at the two sitting across from you.
Sipping on the welcome drink, Sachiko just shrugs back at you.
"I'm not the wrong person here, Mom. He is," your daughter explains, pointing a finger at her brother, then retracting it at your frown. Your husband snickers from beside her. “Yeah, sweetness, it’s Sachiro who’s wrong. Getting confused on when’s your birthday is no small mistake. Besides, our darling little munchkins taunt me the entire time if I ever make a mistake, no? Can’t see why they can’t stand a taste of their own medicine, then.”
The sobs muffled into the cotton of your dress grow in intensity and misery. Sending her father a vicious stink eye, your daughter moves to observe you and her brother, a cute little frown on her face.
"Okay, fine," she relents after a short beat, returning the lemonade to the table, "Guess I was a little wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have teased him so much, along with Papa, for messing up the date of your birthday. I also should not have said, he doesn't love you, some time back."
A very weighted moment passes. The little girl jumps off her seat and reaches your side of the table, tiny arms reaching out to wrap around her brother. It takes a minute, and a small nudge from your side but soon enough, your two kids are hugging each other; Sachiro, a wailing mess, whilst Sachiko, being the older of the twins that she is, keeps saying 'sorry's' and patting his head, the exact same way their father does to them in times of their grave distress — when they throw a tantrum and get a nice long lecture from you, that is.
Fond smile creeping onto your lips, you tear your gaze away from the two adorable angels of your life to your husband.
Relieved to find him sans any teasing smile, you receive a gentle look from him, his hand reaching out to interweave his fingers through yours. You let him with a content hum, basking in the simple domestic joy seeping in through the sweetly scented air of the restaurant. A pair of plush lips press to your palm; biting back a giddy giggle, you throw the owner of said luscious lips a meaningful wink.
Though... you doubt how much of your meaning could be conveyed to him... given how the two of you jerk back from each other a mere instant later, at the loud clearing of a throat from Sachiko and an angry 'Papa! Go away!' from Sachiro.
Stomping back to her chair and settling into it with some effort and a huff, you watch an extremely pissed shadow form over the little girl's face, worsening as she twists and cranes her neck up to face her father. You really, really think your husband must not chuckle in this way in the face of such a thunderstorm— not when your daughter is shooting daggers with her gaze; and certainly not when your son is shooting that gloating smirk at him.
Another time and you think you’ll look at that glare and at that smirk, then proceed to be on cloud-nine, realizing your children, despite being xerox copies of their father (both in looks and manners), did inherit certain features from you as well— something which a terribly competitive voice inside your head claims, is a great win— now, however, is decidedly no such time.
Not when the person you’ve loved for these many years and know, will continue to do so for an eternity, looks one step away from being tormented to death– by none but the two milk-toothed lights of both of your lives.
You watch Sachiko’s frown deepen, more than should be possible for someone her age, then begin.
"Papa, I'm sorry but I have to break our deal. Sachiro is right. We two are the strongest duo of twins in the multiverse — we can't let you break our team this way. So, what if my brother makes a mistake? He's a young baby and babies are allowed to make mistakes, aren't they?"
You wonder if she truly understands she was born a mere six minutes prior than her brother... and not six whole years, as appears to be the case right now. Holding back chuckles, you spare the person, addressed in the ‘not-really-apology' apology, an amused glance, then nod your head solemnly at her words.
"They are, baby. They so are," you agree in the very next instant, then ask, a genuine inquiring inflection to your tone, "But what deal did Papa make you agree to, baby? Sounds pretty serious to me, to be honest."
"Oh, it wasn't anything, sweet cheeks," your husband begins with an awfully nervous-sounding chortle; too bad, your daughter is quick to beat him to it. Throwing him a smirk, you can only describe to be devious, she looks back at you and grins. "Two weeks back, Papa found me in the living room, late at night, staring at shooting stars through the windows. And I found him walking away from the kitchen, eating a giant chocolate bar. Papa said you’ll be very mad because we didn’t listen to what you said, so, we should make a deal and become a team to keep this a secret from you."
"Papa made that deal– only to divide us. So, our strong team can be destroyed and he can easily defeat us and keep you all for himself, Mama," your son chips in, puffy eyes narrowed into a very hard glare. Your daughter agrees vehemently from the opposite side.
Your eyes drop to the glass of lemonade before you; you try your best to stifle the yawn.
This fight over your affection has been going on since the time your children turned four or so... and despite them nearing an age of six in few months, no end can be seen in the horizon, to this war raging within your home...
And as for the matter of Sachiko being awake way past her bedtime? You reckon you can't really do much on this, other than repeating the rules and the reasons behind each one of them– especially of punctuality and an adequate sleep– to her, like you did the last time... though, you think of toning your lecture down a little this time, considering it wasn't a video game but a meteor show she had stayed awake for... besides you too used to be — okay, no, wait, what???
Your husband's sheepish grin collides with the incensed glare you aim his way over the table. Letting out a frustrated huff of an exhale, your face turns away from his, choosing to stare at itself in the clean glass windows instead — too, too mad to acknowledge that white-haired, blue-eyed menace of yours, whining apologies with a pitiful gaze.
You screw your eyes shut and let out a sigh.
Being married to the yakuza king, Gojo Satoru, is a story, you deem, it couldn’t have been better, but being married to the sweet fiend, Gojo Satoru?
Oh, sweet– no, strike that, you fucking hate that word—
Oh, sour heavens above.
That's a different story altogether.
▸ if you've reached this point and still love me and/or my writing, istg I LOVE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH. writing something inspired by one's self-ship is so satisfying but so difficult, ngl. A BIG TYYY TO YOU WHO IS READING THIS LINE RN AFTER READING THIS MONSTROSITY OF A ONESHOT *sniffles*
▸ masterlist
#gojo x reader#gojo x you#gojo satoru x reader#gojo satoru x you#satoru x reader#satoru x you#jjk x reader#jjk x you#gojo fluff#gojo fic#gojo satoru#jjk fluff#jjk fic#jjk fanfic#jjk#jujutsu kaisen#kit posts 📝
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Miles G and Miles Morales Headcannons: Twin Edition
For reference: miles g will be called Milo
A/n: AHHHH ITS GOOD TO BE BACK BABES!!! Ik new fics And pt.2’s are Coming soon, works been a killer and I’ve been going through stuff but it’s good to be back writing for my boys. Requests are closed but opening up soon 🫶🏽🫶🏽
Warnings: none
Miles Morales:
Is like 4 inches taller but makes it feel like 4 feet
Nicer and a bit more approachable
Loves being in pictures and making funny faces
Dog person
Can’t cook for shit but tries so hard for his mom
They have their own little dates and things
His side of the room is a mess
I feel like he played an instrument in the past when he was a kid
Maybe Piano or guitar
He’s a loner by default but he would have more friends if he wasn’t so busy being Spider-Man
He def takes pictures of sunsets from the tips of buildings
Used to color code outfits with Milo but stopped when they were 12
Same with baths but they were 7 for that
His side of the room is disgusting. Like shit is crawling
There’s a single chair with all of his stuff on it
He brings Ganke over sometimes but Ganke took a stronger liking to Milo bc he’s chill
“Yeah man idk if i can come. Is Milo gonna be there?”
Milo doesn’t give a shit but secretly loves Gankes company
They chill and play video games
Miles is also better at video games than Milo
Whenever he gets stuck on a level, he hands the controller to him
He’s more affectionate than Milo
Will draw you and touch you more
Very smart but he has his moments
Definitely more book smart then Street smart
Doesn’t know basic things and code within the streets so sometimes Milo has to help him
Overall, he’s a sunflower child and we love him 🫶🏽🫶🏽
Milo Morales
Was def born First but is shorter than Miles and Miles makes fun of him for it
Plays basketball with Uncle Aaron sometimes and he’s pretty good at it
Played the violin or cello at some point in his life
“Don’t forget im older than you” “im sorry is someone speaking?”
Is more violent than Miles but it’s because he’s the Prowler
Takes more time for him to warm up to you but once he does, he’s stuck on you for life
Will spoil you with Gifts
Speaking of… him and Miles get into it regularly over it, when they fight physically they sometimes slip and use their real names
He’s a mamas boy FR. This man loves his mama
Will make fun of Miles for being a no sabes kid
Sometimes, him and Rio will speak in Spanish in front of Miles and he’ll just stare at them hoping to recognize a word
“Hey you said cabròn, i heard that!”
He’s more of a cat person then Miles
Yells at Miles for creasing his Jordan’s
“Nah homie, you gotta apologize to the J’s they didn’t deserve that”
Is a loner by choice whereas Miles is a loner by default
This man hasn’t smiled in YEARSSS
He hangs out with Uncle Aaron more than his dad
He seems like his side of the room would be cleaner than Miles
“Milo! Have you seen my- Oh Nevermind! I found it” “yeah”
Has an rbf but once you get to know him, hes kinda nice
Takes the pictures in the family
Learned to cook from his mom and regularly cooks with her while speaking Spanish
It’s so freaking cute oml. Like if there’s music playing, he will spin her to the music and everything and they will laugh
He’s not a snowbunny lol. He’s down with the brown
He seems like he wears 100 million cologne
Smells better and is more put together than Miles
Overall, he’s more razor sharp
More nonchalant
Definitely is a tad bit jealous that Miles is apart of a spider society
#mcu fanfiction#miles morales#miles morales x reader#miles morales x y/n#miles morales headcannons#miles x reader#across the spiderverse#spider man: across the spider verse#spiderman#across the spiderverse spoilers#milo morales#earth 42 miles#miles 42#miles morales fanfiction#miles!prowler#miles!spiderman#miles g#miles morales prowler#miles g morales#prowler miles#spiderman into the spiderverse#into the spider verse#spider verse#across the spiderverse fanart#marvel#i love them#for you#earth 42#earth42!miles#spiderverse
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Alright I can't finish this all in one sitting, but here's at least a bit of.... something? A word vomit? A prelude to smut about the eroticism of the machine? For all you robot, mecha, and spaceship fuckers out there. @k1nky-r0b0t-g1rl that means you
Pappy always said that manufacturing biological transportation was nothing knew. I mean, shit, humanity's been breeding horses for how long? To him, not much was novel about what was going on in the shipyards way out by Neptune when I was a kid.
But Pappy didn't know a lot of things. And he certainly didn't meet Roseanna.
The Federation Navy had experimented with biologics for decades. The idea was to create self regenerating ships- something to interface with the hull, move the new titanium plates and particulates into place, have a living, growing mass interfacing with the steel so that the ship didn't have to head all the way back to the yards to patch up after every dogfight.
The first generation... worked. With a full time crew, that is. Full time people on deck jabbin the rigid, chitonous interface with the hull full of growth hormones to get them to set just right. Full time onboard bioengineers to compute what signaling cocktail ya need to hit 'em with to get it to grow back right. Skilled onboard technicians to shave back the chitin when it tried to overgrow the titanium, and slap some new cells in to seed the process in heavily damaged areas. Less input material, less time in the yards, but far more manpower. Great for a Federation cruiser on deep space peacekeeping missions. Far too complex for small craft. Right?
Until some bastard put brains in 'em.
Well. A lotta suits would say that they weren't brains. They were a diffuse network of sensory neurons and ganglia, living inside the body of the ship, integrating signals from a skin of alloyed metal and fibrous protein, calculating power draw too and from various components, and integrating with the mechanical and electrical components of the ship to precisely manage the "wound healing" process of the vessel. And of course, it just so happened that one of those ganglia was larger and more complex than the rest of them, and it just so happened that the computer interfaces with this ganglia exhibit complex, thinking behaviors on the level of human cognition, and it just so happens that most pilots and navigators reported them developing their own personalities.....
But of course, the Navy didn't want anyone to have some kind of pesky empathy in the way of their operations. And they certainly didn't want anyone side eyeing the rate at which they disposed of the damn things, and let them suffer and rot after disposal. So as far as the official record was concerned, they didn't have brains.
Like most people in the belt, I found Rosie on a... unsponsored field trip to the Neptune scrap yards. She wasn't a ship then. She wasn't much of anything. Not much more than a vat with the central ganglia and just barely enough of the stem cells needed to regrow a network. But I took her all the same. Brains were valuable. Few pilots outside the Navy had them back then. Nowadays, a black market for "brain seeds", a cocktail of neuronal stem cells and enough structural stem cells to grow your own into the chassis of your ship. They were pumpin' em out, and leaving them to die. It was cruel. They may be vehicles, but they're a livin' being too.
But I digress. I'd never do that to Roseanna. I make sure she gets proper care. And for a good, proper, working ship? That includes some good, proper work.
The asteroid we were docked in was one of my usuals- good bars, nice temp quarters, nice views of the rock's orbiting twin, and a spacious hanger for Rosie to rest in. The chasiss I had imprinted Roseanna to was a 40-meter light skipper, with some adjustments for handling deep space trips. It was pretty much the smallest thing you could actually use to live and work for long periods of time, but it got the job done. The angular design made the entire ship look like a wedge, or the blade of a bulky dagger. It didn't hurt that each bottom edge was fortified with a sharpened titanium blade, turning the entire sides of the ship into axe-like rams.
Those would probably come in handy today.
I approached Roseanna on the catwalk above her, marveling her alloyed scales. I could almost see her shudder in anticipation as my footsteps vibrated through the air above her. I took the steps down, and hit the trigger to open her top hatch.
When the news got out of the Navy scuffling with a rebelling mining station, an electric air raced across the station. Some went about their day as normal. Some resigned themselves to picking at the leftovers after the dust had settled. And some, like me, knew that they could get the finest pickings.
I strapped in to the pilot's seat like it was an old boot.
"Welcome, Captain Victoria."
Rosie could talk, but more often than not, she chose not to. But she understood me just fine. Most of our communication took place using her three prerecorded lines- her welcome statement, affirmative, and negative- as well as the tiny screen showing a small, emoticon face. Many pilots chose to give their ships an elaborate render, but Rosie preferred it this way. It was the first face I gave her, from somewhere out of the scrap heaps, and she refused any offer I made to upgrade. Secretly, I was overjoyed. To me, that was her face. That was her voice. And it was beautiful to see her true self through them.
I brushed my hands across her paneling. Across the switches, the hydraulic controls for the plasma fuel, the steering, the boosts, the comms channels. The thing with biologics was that you were still the pilot. For whatever reason, they hadn't quite gotten to the point where the brains could take over their own piloting. My personal opinion was just that their personalities lacked the ambition to. But whatever reason that was, the best pilots were still the ones that knew both their ship, and the ship's brain. And me and Rosie? We knew each other well.
As my fingers touched the brushed aluminum controls, rimmed with chitinous layers rooting them into the ship, I could feel the walls around me holding their invisible breath. "Do you know what we're doing today, Rosie?"
Her tiny panel flickered on. ...?
"We got a scrap run."
^_^
:)
^_^
Her panel flicked between various expressions of excitement. My finger quivered on the main power, holding for a moment before flicking it on. The primary electronics of the ship hummed to life, and what Rosie controlled pulsed with it. My hands moved across the main functional panels- main hydraulic plasma valve, exhaust ports open, and finally, flicking the switch the start the plasma burner.
My hands gripped the steering. The hanger's airlock doors opened in front of me. My neck length hair started to float as the station's gravity shut off. I hit the switch to unlatch from the supports above. For a moment, we hang there. The dull crackle of the idling plasma burner is the only sound that resonates through Rosie's hull.
Go time.
I punch the boost.
#eroticism of the machine#robot girl#mecha girl#spaceship girl#the fuck do I even tag this LOL#yall gotta tag this and make sure it gets to the right spaces for me okay
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Hiya friend!
Do you think Harry calls Ginny by her full name when he wants to be a little shit?
Also, just want to say that I love the way you write Ginny plus the bestie moment between Ron and Harry.
❤️
Anon, this ask did something to my brain.
Firstly, thank you so much! That's so nice of you to say 🥰
Secondly, yes, I think Harry says it to wind Ginny up, and I think he gets more than he bargained for when he does.
To demonstrate, have this unhinged one-shot (drabble? Almost) I stayed up until 3am writing, in which Harry discovers he has a certain... effect on Ginevra...
AO3 or read below:
The first time he'd said it had been at Hogwarts; not during a sunlit day, but in the peaceful hour between day and night, when dusk had been gathering around them as they sat, wrapped up in one another, beneath their favourite beech tree.
The temperature had dropped as the sun had receded behind the tree line of the Forbidden Forest. She'd protested at first, when he'd tried to give her his jumper, but Ginny's objections had been half-hearted, and Harry's determination had been absolute, and eventually she'd slipped the soft green material over her head.
Despite the rapidly lowering temperature, something warm and content settled in Harry's chest at the sight of her, swathed in the soft folds of his jumper.
She shuffled closer to him, her smile impossibly bright in the growing darkness. “I'm keeping this.”
His arms wrapped around her instinctively, keeping her near as a teasing smile grew on his own face. “If you ask nicely, I might let you.”
Her head tilted thoughtfully; her eyes were like twin pools of firewhiskey, reflecting what little light remained as she moved. “I'm not asking, though. I'm merely informing you.”
Harry tried for a severe expression but the effect she had on him was too much; he doubted there was a substance on Earth as strong as her. His smile stayed in place. “That's stealing, Ginevra.”
He watched, secretly delighted, as her lips parted slightly in surprise at the use of her full name. His blood thrummed with anticipation, eager to see how she might respond. Idly, he wondered if he might have been wise to draw his wand.
The thought was fleeting, erased from his mind, as Ginny shook her arm free of the too-long sleeve of his jumper. Her hand reached out slowly; Harry watched its progress across the small gap between them, until her fingers curled around his chin, and his eyes closed for the barest of seconds at her touch.
Her hand guided him forward. Harry followed her silent command instinctively, closing the gap between them until it was hardly large enough for air to pass between them.
“Don't call me that,” she whispered warningly, her breath tickling his lips.
She kissed him before he could see the smile threatening to break out on her face.
◇◇◇
He heeded the warning for just over two years before saying it a second time.
They'd gone immediately from Platform Nine and Three Quarters to Grimmauld Place, which had been utterly transformed from the dark, dour dwelling it used to be.
He was leaning against the windowsill in his bedroom – their bedroom – watching with utter fascination as she zipped from one side of the room to the other unpacking her Hogwarts trunk for the final time.
She was talking a mile a minute, catching him up on everything that had happened during her final term. Harry was trying to listen despite the lump forming in his throat, and the trembling in his hands, and the overwhelming sense of fragility that was threatening to engulf him in the face of such a momentous occasion.
Her hair potion joined his aftershave on the dresser. Harry swallowed thickly.
Ginny didn't seem to notice, or perhaps she was letting him reach an equilibrium in his own time, either way, she flashed him a heart-stoppingly beautiful smile as she hung her dressing gown on the back of the door, right beside his. The effect was immediate. He felt himself relax.
The blood pounding in his ears receded, and Ginny's words came sharply back into focus.
“...I skipped half of my classes the week leading up to the final,” she told him with a sly smile that coaxed him into the easy rhythm of their usual back and forth. “Hermione was horrified, but I decided the extra flying time was more important.”
The corners of Harry's lips tugged upwards, momentarily returning her smirk. “I'm disappointed to hear you weren't taking your academics seriously, Ginevra.”
The small stack of books she'd been carrying to her nightstand tumbled from her grasp to the floor. She crossed to him in three quick steps, forced to rise onto her tiptoes, and even then not matching Harry's height. Her eyes smouldered as they met his. “I told you not to call me that.”
Something about the way she was looking at him turned his blood molten in his veins. “I'm just trying to make you feel at home.”
Her fingers curled around his t-shirt, pulling him to her. “I am home.”
He kissed her before she could see the smile threatening to break out on his face.
◇◇◇
Almost another year passed before he said it a third time.
Harry was in the kitchen, surrounded by dirty bowls, cracked eggshells, and streaks of flour that ran along the counter top. The recipe book Molly had given him for Christmas was propped open in front of him.
"Something smells good," Ginny announced, breathing deeply as she entered the kitchen, still dressed in her training robes.
He leaned down, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth in greeting, the gesture so natural now that he did it unthinkingly.
“Attempt number six,” he informed her, inclining his head towards the oven, where his latest endeavour at a birthday cake for Teddy was baking.
Ginny's eyebrows rose in surprise. “You've been busy.” He'd been on attempt number three when she'd left for practice.
“I can't get it to rise properly.”
He didn't fool himself into believing she couldn't hear the edge of frustration in his voice. Her hand squeezed his arm in silent reassurance. “Andromeda said she was happy to make it.”
“I know, but she does so much already.”
Ginny's fingers slid from his arm, moving upwards, not stopping until they found his cheek, turning his head and forcing him to look at her. “So do you.”
He nodded, unwilling to agree verbally, but knowing she wouldn't allow him to argue. Still, he couldn't stop himself from saying. “I want to get this right for him.”
“Well, I've yet to discover the thing you can't do when you set your mind to it,” she said encouragingly, her hand leaving his cheek, and heading for the countertop. She shot him a wink that had the contrary results of soothing his agitation, and making his heart rate speed up. “Besides, I have a good feeling about this one.”
Her finger ran along the inside edge of the mixing bowl, collecting a sticky coating of cake mixture on the tip.
Impulsively, Harry grabbed her wrist, pulling her hand towards him, and licking the sweet mixture off her finger before she could. “You're supposed to wait for the cake to finish baking, Ginevra.”
Her eyes darkened, lips parting around a sharp intake of breath, confirming a suspicion Harry had been harbouring since the last time he'd said it. She liked it.
“If you call me that again, I'll hex you,” her voice was low, dangerous. Seductive.
“You can try,” Harry said, in a tone that matched hers. His fingers tightened around her wrist, pulling her to him. “But it's only fair to warn you you're dealing with a highly trained Auror.”
Ginny's head tilted thoughtfully, eyes sweeping over him like she was sizing him up; his skin heated everywhere her gaze touched. “You're forgetting I know all of your weaknesses.”
Harry hummed against her lips, unable to disagree. She did know all of his weaknesses, that much was undeniable, but he had definitely just confirmed one of hers. He could tell she knew it too. It was obvious from the way her eyes sparked as they met his, silently daring him to test her.
“You wouldn't fight me though, would you, Ginevra?”
He accentuated every syllable of her name, drawing it out, enthralled by the way her whole body stiffened in response.
A beat of tension-filled silence followed, stretching for what felt like eternity, before Ginny surged forward. Their matching smiles broke free a moment before their lips met, and Harry sank into her kiss.
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Eric and Ethan had always been inseparable, their bond forged through years of shared adventures, challenges, and when they got older a mutual passion for motorcycles. As identical twins, they shared striking features: piercing blue eyes, sharp jawlines, and an infectious smile. Yet, over the years, subtle differences had emerged between them.
Eric, the more athletic of the two, had spent countless hours at the gym, honing his physique to perfection. His muscles bulged beneath the sleek, black leather motorcycle racing gear he wore, a testament to his dedication and hard work. Ethan, on the other hand, had a softer frame, his body cushioned by a layer of pudge that he carried with a certain ease. He preferred the comfort of textile gear, appreciating its practicality over the aesthetic appeal of leather.
One sunny Saturday, the twins decided to take their motorcycles out for a long ride through the winding roads of the countryside. The day was perfect, the sky a brilliant blue, the air filled with the scent of blooming wildflowers. They rode side by side, the roar of their engines harmonizing like a symphony, a sound that never failed to bring a smile to their faces.
After hours of exhilarating speed and sharp turns, they pulled into a small roadside café for a break. They parked their bikes and stretched, the fatigue of the ride beginning to set in. As they sat down at a wooden picnic table, a young woman approached, her eyes drawn to Eric's impressive physique and the way his leather gear hugged his form.
"Hey," she said, smiling brightly at Eric. "You look like you ride a lot. Can I get your number?"
Eric, always friendly and outgoing, smiled and obliged, exchanging pleasantries and his phone number. Ethan watched from the sidelines, his heart sinking as the scene unfolded.
A few minutes later, a man came over, similarly captivated by Eric. "Nice bike," he said, his gaze lingering on Eric's muscular frame. "Do you come here often? Can I get your number?"
Eric chuckled and exchanged numbers again, his charm and easy demeanor drawing the attention effortlessly. Ethan felt a pang of jealousy, but he kept his feelings hidden behind a forced smile.
Throughout their break, different people continued to approach Eric, each one seemingly oblivious to Ethan's presence. The constant attention Eric received only deepened Ethan's sense of invisibility. He tried to join the conversations, but his attempts were met with polite indifference. Each interaction chipped away at his self-esteem, leaving him feeling smaller and more insignificant.
After a while, they got back on their bikes and rode home in silence. Eric was in high spirits, the attention he received adding to his exuberance. Ethan, however, felt a storm brewing inside him. The jealousy and hurt festered, but he didn't want to burden his brother with his feelings. He acted completely normal, laughing at Eric's jokes and discussing their plans for the next ride as if nothing was amiss.
That night, as they parked their bikes in the garage, Ethan knew he needed space to sort out his emotions. He made an excuse about needing some time alone and left before Eric could ask any questions.
In the days that followed, Ethan ignored Eric's calls and messages. He needed distance to deal with the pain of feeling perpetually overshadowed. Eric's concern grew, but Ethan remained resolute in his silence, determined not to let his jealousy damage their bond further. Weeks turned into months, and then years, with Ethan maintaining his distance, his silence becoming a wall between them.
Eric continued to reach out, his calls and messages filled with worry and confusion.
Yet, Ethan couldn't bring himself to respond. The pain of that day had left a lasting scar, one that time alone couldn't heal.
Two years later, Eric still hoped for reconciliation, while Ethan struggled with his feelings, the memory of that fateful ride haunting him. Their bond, once unbreakable, now lay fractured, a casualty of unspoken hurt and unaddressed emotions. Eric had been riding his motorcycle alone through the countryside all day, the wind whipping past him, the roar of the engine drowning out his thoughts. The endless road stretched before him, a temporary escape from the loneliness and confusion that had plagued him ever since Ethan had disappeared from his life. The sky gradually darkened as evening approached, the day's heat lingering in the air.
By the time he returned home, his body was soaked in sweat, trapped within the confines of his one-piece leather motorcycle racing suit and boots. He parked his bike in the garage and staggered inside, exhaustion etched into every muscle. His throat was parched, and he headed straight to the fridge, grabbing the milk and drinking straight from the carton, gulping down the cold liquid hastily.
With the milk nearly finished, he put the carton back and slumped onto a chair, beginning the laborious process of taking off his racing boots. He could feel the heat and moisture trapped inside, his feet aching from the long ride. As he worked on the second boot, a sudden wave of dizziness overcame him, and he collapsed to the floor. Panic surged through him as he found himself conscious but completely immobile, every muscle unresponsive.
As he lay there, helpless, he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. His heart pounded in his chest as he strained to see who it was. A shadow fell over him, and he saw a pair of gloved hands reach down and grab his boots. The figure then moved to his ankles and began dragging him towards the bedroom. Eric's mind raced with fear and confusion, his attempts to struggle futile against the paralysis.
He was pulled into the bedroom and unceremoniously lifted onto the bed. His eyes widened as he saw the figure looming over him, a muscular man whose face was hidden behind a black balaclava. The man's presence was imposing, his movements precise and controlled as he began to strip Eric out of his tight, warm, and sweaty gear.
The man started by removing Eric's gloves, sliding them off his hands with deliberate slowness. Next, he unzipped the one-piece leather suit, the zipper's sound a harsh rasp in the tense silence. The man had to peel the suit away from Eric's body, the leather clinging stubbornly to his sweat-drenched skin. The process was slow and meticulous, the suit coming off inch by inch, revealing Eric's glistening torso and legs. The cool air hit Eric's exposed skin, sending a shiver down his spine.
Once the suit was off, the man moved on to Eric's socks, pulling them off and exposing his damp feet. Then came the undershirt, which was stuck to Eric's torso from the day's perspiration. The man tugged it over Eric's head, leaving him in just his underpants, now visibly soaked with sweat.
Finally, the man reached for the underpants, pulling them down and off with a single motion, leaving Eric completely exposed and vulnerable. The man stepped back, surveying Eric's prone form. Then, without a word, he began to strip himself, removing his clothing piece by piece until he stood in nothing but the balaclava. His muscular body gleamed in the dim light, each muscle defined and powerful.
The man inspected his own body, flexing slightly, before turning his attention back to Eric. As Eric lay there, his breath coming in shallow gasps, he noticed the familiarity of the man's physique. It was as if he had seen this body somewhere before. The man moved closer, his eyes scanning Eric with an almost clinical detachment.
He began to feel Eric's body, running his hands over his chest, arms, and legs. Eric's mind raced with fear and confusion, his attempts to speak futile. Then, it struck him —the man's body was identical to his own. The same muscle definition, the same contours and lines. It was like looking into a mirror.
Eric's heart pounded as the realization settled in. Who was this man, and why did he have the exact same body? The man continued his inspection, his touch lingering on Eric's muscles, comparing them to his own. The surreal and terrifying experience left Eric's mind spinning, trying to grasp the reality of the situation.
The man picked up Eric's wet underpants and slowly pulled them up his own thighs, positioning everything into place with meticulous care. He then took the damp socks and pulled them over his calves. Next, the sweaty undershirt followed onto the man's torso, sticking slightly to his skin. He grabbed the leather racing suit and forced his body into it, the material fitting perfectly, just like it did on Eric.
Finally, he stepped into Eric's motorcycle racing boots, the warmth and moisture enveloping his feet. He zipped them up and stood there, reveling in the feeling of wearing Eric's sweaty gear.
The man, now dressed in Eric's leather motorcycle gear and boots, laid down next to Eric, feeling Eric's naked muscular body through the gloves. He began to thrust against Eric's body through the leather gear, his movements methodical and intense.
After what felt like an eternity, the man finally stood up, breathing heavily. He reached up and removed the balaclava, revealing his face. Eric's eyes widened in shock as he saw Ethan standing there, wearing Eric's gear. Now it all made sense— the body that looked so much like his own. Ethan had been gone for two years, and in that time, he had transformed himself to look exactly like Eric.
Ethan smirked, his eyes cold and calculating. "Surprised to see me?" he asked, his voice eerily calm. "I worked out every day for two years to become you. To take over your life."
Ethan then grabbed some rope and began tying up Eric's naked body, securing his wrists and ankles tightly. He stuffed a gag into Eric's mouth, muffling any attempts to speak or scream. Helpless and bound, Eric could only watch as Ethan felt himself up, savoring the sensation of wearing his brother's sweaty leathers.
Ethan picked up Eric's phone and held it up to his own face. The phone unlocked instantly through Face ID, confirming how identical they now were. Ethan grinned down at Eric, relishing his victory. "You see, brother," he said, his tone dripping with malice, "I've become you in every way that matters. Now, it's my turn to live your life."
The doorbell rang, and Ethan paused, looking towards the door. He left the room to answer it. Eric could hear the sound of Ethan's motorcycle boots echoing through the apartment, a familiar yet chilling sound. Moments later, Ethan returned, followed by two men. They looked at Eric's naked, tied-up body and grinned.
"This is him," Ethan said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "The pinnacle I promised your boss."
The men nodded approvingly. "He's perfect," one of them said. They moved swiftly, grabbing Eric and carrying him out of the house. He struggled weakly against his bonds, but it was no use. They shoved him into the back of a van and slammed the doors shut. The last thing Eric saw was Ethan standing in the doorway, a cold, triumphant smile on his face.
That was the last time Ethan saw Eric. From that day forward, Ethan lived his life as Eric. He wore Eric's clothes and motorcycle gear, slept in Eric's bed, and rode Eric's motorcycle. Ethan had become Eric in every way that mattered, and that is all he cared about.
#muscular men#stolen body#stolen clothes#stolen life#body swap#male body swap#male transformation#stolen face#stolen gear
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