#i sweat to god if they make even ONE of these kids straight | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

batterygarden · 2 months

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love is in the air . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

contents: big bro! yuuta x fem & afab reader, dead dove do not eat, sex pollen, incest, virginity loss (reader), drugged sex vibes, unprotected sex w cream pies, size kink w slight pain, oral f!receiving, overstimulation, dacryphilia, 3.2 k words. hbd to my king

18+, minors dni please

When Yuuta’s teleported into his room, he’s horrified to see you already there.

You’re wearing his clothes, as per usual, and flopped across his bed while you do your homework—likely waiting for him to get home to help you with the math. Normally, this wouldn’t be out of the ordinary; the two of you have always been close and Yuuta doesn’t mind the way you tend to loiter. The thing is, you were supposed to be out shopping with your girlfriends after class today. You’ve been talking up these plans all month–-Yuuta never imagined you’d cancel.

And here he is, high off his ass on cursed aphrodisiacs (misted straight into his lungs by some flower monster) and contemplating every forbidden fantasy in his arsenal with a newfound urgency.

You jump nearly a foot in the air when you see him, so perfectly still and silent at first that he goes unnoticed.

“Oh my god, nii-san! You scared me!”

You don’t seem to catch how off he is yet, how labored his breaths come or how he’s covered in a sheen of sweat. He wishes you would. Maybe then the proper alarm bells would be ringing and you’d leave.

Yuuta only backs away, shoving hair from his face while his eyes dart all over the room, anywhere to avoid drifting to your body and the way his t-shirt pools around it.

His fatal mistake is his failure to beeline it straight out his bedroom door. In his defense, Yuuta’s thoughts are awfully foggy, and an escape route is hard to pin down, even within his moderately-sized room. Instead he trips over a book bag and lets himself tumble backwards to the floor, his katana thunking loudly when it drops from his shoulder.

His vision and hearing are a bit foggy, too, as he watches you approach him off his bed, almost appearing to move in slow motion.

“Nii-San? What happened to you?”

He makes a strangled sound when you reach to touch his face, leaning away from your hand.

“Just lost my balance! I’m okay. Y’shouldn’t touch me right now.”

Did his words come out slurred?

You frown, letting him know the fall wasn’t what you meant when you were asking, practically pinning him against the wall to feel his forehead.

“Hmm. I can’t tell if you have a fever or you’re just hot.”

“It’s probably nothing. Was fighting a curse earlier and—achoo!“

Yuuta turns away to sneeze just as you move your head to the side to look at him closer. He accidentally sneezes directly into your face, earning a little gasp.

He scoots away frantically then.

“Sorry, sorry! I don’t wanna get you sick, okay? I need to be alone. You can leave.”

You wipe at your face, holding back a giggle at the state of him. You haven’t seen Yuuta this impaired since he had the flu when you were kids.

“Nii-san, you need me to take care of you.” Your tone is matter of fact, but doting too. Deep down you’re relishing in this role reversal—Yuuta’s always the one looking after you, not the other way around.

He starts shaking his head, rubbing tiredly at his eyes when suddenly a wave of vertigo hits you.

Then you’re tumbling to the floor with him.

Your voice sounds far away when you breathe a little woah, taking longer than you should to register what’s just happened. When you do, you turn to Yuuta—a reflex whenever you’re hurt or something goes wrong—you’ve grown spoiled by his overprotective nature. So much so that even the tiniest stumbles have you expecting a warm, calloused hand beneath your elbow, lifting and steadying you.

Yuuta takes longer than he should to come into the focus of your eyes, and when he does you find his face buried in one of his hands while his other adjusts his pants.

“Are you okay?” He sounds breathless, making no move to touch you or help. Something is seriously up.

“Mhm. I don’t know why I just…” You pause, almost forgetting what you’re even saying while your thoughts navigate a new fog. Suddenly you’re warm. “I dunno what came over me.”

Yuuta only scoots a bit farther away in response, dragging himself along the wall. To you it’s almost like he’s moving in slow motion.

“Nii-san, something is wrong. I feel wrong.”

Yuuta’s breaths come in huffs when you drag yourself to him then, nuzzling your way between his bent legs.

“M-me too… that’s why I want you to go.”

You shake your head, staring at Yuuta while he stares back, squirming and uncomfortable under your gaze. The warmth inside you is starting to grow uncomfortable—almost painful between your legs. You wonder if this is exactly how Yuuta’s feeling before you consider the possibility that he may be even worse, having been infected with whatever strange illness this is before he even arrived. He’s really working to hold out on you—what a gentleman.

In fact, you think, that might be the perfect word to describe your sweet big brother. Always looking out for you more than anyone else, Yuuta sets a bar for chivalry unattainable by any man who isn’t him.

He’s always opening your doors and offering you rides. Holding your hand to cross the street, tugging you back if you try to cross without looking and, occasionally, shoving your tangled fingers in his coat pocket if it’s chilly. He always has this protective nature when other men are involved, glaring at wandering eyes and warning you of potential danger (you recall one time he tripped some guy who asked for your number as he was walking away—he was too old for you and clearly had bad intentions).

Then there’s the way he’s thoughtful. Even when you were kids, Yuuta was always getting you gifts, setting time aside from his busy schedule to play with you or take you somewhere—forging some of your favorite memories growing up. You think particularly fondly of all your old dance recitals—how yuuta would always make time to be there and give you flowers and praise (out of all the bouquets your family supplied, his were the only ones that ever earned a spot on your night stand).

Even now you’ve got a vase of pink roses in your bedroom down the hall for passing your latest algebra test.

Yeah, Yuuta’s a chivalrous brother to a tee.

And the heat in your veins has you wishing he’d be anything but.

“Y-yuuta. I need you.” Your hands reach to pull at the open buttons of his uniform, but your wrists are quickly shackled by strong hands, gentle but unyielding.

“Do you know what you’re asking?” His voice is steady for the first time since appearing in his room, albeit a little pained.

“Yes. Yeah I do.”

You scoot closer, and Yuuta’s entire aura seems to change, darkening in a way that leaves goosebumps crawling across your flesh.

Your wrists are freed but you still feel immobilized as Yuuta grabs you carefully by the neck then, tugging your face to his till his lips can capture yours for the very first time.

You can’t deny that you’ve fantasized about kissing Yuuta, if only on the rare occasions that you loosened the reins on your self control. The kiss feels as electric and all-consuming as you’d hoped, hungry like you’re trying to swallow each other whole. His lips are a bit chapped, rougher than yours and hot in a way you’ll surely imprint into your psyche. What surprises you, though, is Yuuta’s brashness; he’s not reserved like you used to imagine he’d be if he kissed you. He’s being selfish, sucking on your lips and licking inside your mouth like you’re his—and when his teeth sink into the plump of your bottom lip you start to realize that maybe you always have been.

Yuuta’s kiss is needy and passionate, but it clearly doesn’t sate him as rough palms travel over your body throughout, kneading your sides and your arms and your thighs till you're rearranged on top of him, straddling where he needs you most.

You’re instinctually grinding down on him once you are, your insides painfully empty and sensitive so that the hard feeling of him through his pant fabric pressing against your clit is the most satisfying feeling you’ve ever had. He’s quickly grabbing at your hips to help push your core against him, and that angle of pressure paired with his attentive mouth against yours has you cumming in minutes, crying out into his mouth while he grips you harshly like a ragdoll, eventually mouthing at your jaw and throat so you can breathe again. It’s the kind of orgasm that has your senses short-circuiting, your vision going in and out of focus while your hearing turns fuzzy—it’s intense and euphoric. You feel drugged.

It’s unnatural how you’re instantly needy again once you come down, panting and light-headed but impatient when you scoot back to reach for his belt. Yuuta’s hand stops yours.

“Hang on—”

“Please! Nii-san, I can’t wait, I need you—”

“I know, let me—“ he interrupts himself to peck your lips again. You want him to never stop doing that—the satisfaction is addicting. “Let me give you head first.”

Those words knock the wind from your lungs. Because now is the first time you truly reckon with a truth you’ve been avoiding… Yuuta is experienced. You don’t know who or when (as far as you’re aware he’s never had a steady girlfriend) but the way he says those words makes it clear. Yuuta has made a woman cum. The idea brings a wave of jealousy you usually keep carefully buried—it’s an unspoken rule yuuta doesn’t mention his romantic affairs, so the reality of his sex life is something you’ve avoided.

“I’m a virgin.” The words bubble out of you uncontrollably. Yuuta chuckles just a little before giving another quick kiss.

“I know. That’s why I’m gonna go down on you.”

The effects of whatever aphrodisiac you’ve been exposed to clearly haven’t waned as Yuuta manhandles you into a position of his liking before he finishes his sentence—neither of you have gained the common sense necessary to move yourselves off the floor to Yuuta’s bed a yard away. Yuuta’s still the most aggressive you’ve ever felt him as he lays you down, trailing kisses and occasional bites down your skin till he makes his way to his own boxers that rest over your hips. You catch a little glare when he spots them, a week ago he told you to stop borrowing these—you’re my little sister! It’s not appropriate.

How ironic, he doesn’t chastise you as he yanks those very same boxers down his little sister’s legs. Then he tosses them aside—not even commenting on how you got them all messy—and instantly sets to work, lapping at your pussy like a man starved.

It isn’t an experience to be taken lightly—the first lick of your brother's tongue has you moaning like a pornstar. You have to grip the roots of Yuuta’s soft hair for stability as his mouth sends electricity through your body, pleasure radiating from your cunt all throughout you till you’re not sure you know what to do with it all. Once he latches to your clit, sucking it like a pacifier while his pretty lashes blink closed in content, you can’t help but come undone again—your orgasm intense and lasting even longer than the last time—this feeling is addicting.

Yuuta licks up as much of your release as he can when you do, then he’s quickly rising up, wiping his face with an arm before tugging off his shirt.

You feel like the luckiest sister in the universe when you finally come back to earth to watch him, his sculpted body glistening in sweat as he reveals more and more skin—all for you.

Yuuta’s pants are tugged off next, but not all the way. He gets impatient once they’re low enough for his cock to be freed, stroking it shamelessly, coating it in the mess he made from cumming in his pants.

Your eyes go wide when you see his size.

“S-sorry I know t’s a lot. Are you doing okay?”

There’s a silent but in there, an unspoken i still need more.

You nod quickly, spreading your bent legs so he has full access—it’s true that you’ve cum hard enough twice to pass out for days, but your body is insatiable. Yuuta’s cock is what it truly wants; you won’t—can’t—rest till you get it.

Yuuta’s wasting no time—clearly as needy for you as you are for him. He’s already leaning over you, running his tip through your folds before you can find the desperate words to reply, “Need you inside me, Yuu.”

That’s as much confirmation as Yuuta needs before he thrusts, stretching your virgin hole till it molds to fit him. There’s a pinch, a sting that pricks tears in your eyes as you accommodate his thick girth, but it’s replaced by the pure relief of him in a matter of seconds. You whine when he bottoms out, your body clenching and grinding towards him of its own volition—again, you’re insatiable. Luckily Yuuta seems to be on the same page as he quickly pulls almost completely out of you, earning a louder whine before slamming back in, hitting a deep, warm spot that has your vision blurring.

It’s ruthless and mean the way he starts beating your cunt then—you can’t help but contrast it to the way Yuuta rocked you in his lap just a night ago to soothe you through a scary thunderstorm. This man, the one snapping his hips against your hole with bruising force and no breaks, is a different man completely.

You want to meet him halfway, to contribute to creating the absolute bliss that his cock quickly brings you, but your body can hardly keep up once Yuuta gets going. He’s so fast and strong, the most you can do is lay there and take it, clawing at his shoulders and back in a way that matches his animalistic energy.

Maybe a minute is all it takes before your body comes undone around Yuuta’s cock. Almost too eagerly and certainly the fastest you’ve ever cum before—it would be embarrassing if it weren’t for Yuuta’s loud, wanton moan at the feel of it.

“F-fuck your pussy’s too tight! Why does it feel so—ngh good—“ Yuuta fills you up for the first time then, flooding your insides with his creamy seed before you even finish twitching from your own release. The heat of your big brother’s cum in your tummy is irreplaceable—you fall in love with the feeling and don’t want it ever to leave.

Luckily Yuuta’s not done, he’s still hard even after he pumps you full, and his movements don’t relent, in fact it almost feels like he’s fucking you deeper.

“Y-yuuta it’s so much…” you manage to say through the stuffed sensation that reaches your throat.

You’re still crazy with want, you feel like you’d die if he stopped, and yet your mysterious sex-craze does nothing to counteract the overstimulation.

“‘M sorry, ‘m really sorry I can’t stop,” Yuuta pries your weak legs up while he talks, folding you up in a mating press. You don’t have the words to reassure him that it’s fine, that you need this, because then you’re coming undone again, throbbing wildly on Yuuta’s cock while your eyes roll back in your head. Yuuta cums with you shortly after, and something in you rejoices that he’s filling you with more of himself—that he’s irreversibly spilling into your most intimate parts.

He pulls out after that, and your legs go limp—all of you lifeless except your twitching, leaking cunt. It’s a good thing Yuuta’s still needy though, because even if your legs lack the strength to hold him, your insides are devastated by the lack of him—it’s wrong that he’s not still inside you.

“Yuuta—“ you start to protest before he’s manhandling you, dragging you till you’re half draped across his bed, shoving your school books and pencils out of the way. It’s like you’re partially standing, bent forward with your tummy against the mattress, but you let your legs dangle limply while you lay, unable to hold yourself.

“I know pretty,” he replies, spreading your messy thighs and cunt before shoving himself back inside you, “can’t be done.”

The sound his cock makes is obscene as it spreads you open again, paired with the whine you let out at the sensitive feeling mixed with relief. The new angle yuuta reaches makes you feel stuffed all the way to your chest.

Yuuta doesn’t waste time before he’s pumping into you as relentlessly as before, pulling easy orgasms from you again and again till your hips are bruised from his hands and his comforter is soaked with your tears and snot and cum.

Yuuta’s crying too by the time he cums a final time, gasping and whining while he fills you with what feels like his entire remaining life force, eventually using the last of his energy to pull out with a wince and collapse on the bed, pulling you up so you’re all the way on the bed next to him. You both lose consciousness finally.

When Yuuta wakes he’s under unusual covers, and finds his vision illuminated by a pink night light—it takes him a minute to recognize that he’s in your room.

But he’s still naked. He sits up with a gasp, reaching for you as the events of evening come flooding back to him, but you’re nowhere to be found—he realizes you must have coaxed him in here for some reason then left. The clock beside him reads five in the morning, but considering how early the two of you passed out the night before, it’s not surprising you’d clearly already woken.

Yuuta sips from a cup of water on your nightstand, then finds a used bath towel you’ve got hooked on your door and wraps it around his hips, venturing dizzily out into the apartment.

He hears the laundry machine going, and passes his room to find his bed stripped of sheets, the mess from your school supplies cleaned up.

Then he finds you in the kitchen with wet hair, clean clothes and an apron, flipping pancakes.

You look delighted when you see him—more than usual—with a sweet smile and giant pupils.

“Yuuta! Made you breakfast.” You say making your way to him.

Not that Yuuta’s had much time to think on it, (he wasn’t worrying over his future when your tight pussy was milking his drugged senses yesterday, that’s for sure), but in the back of his mind, he was sure that fucking you would have irreparable effects on your relationship. You’d always love each other, of that much he was certain—you had a mutual trust in that department for sure. But he was also sure things would be awkward, maybe you’d need space at first and wouldn’t look at him the same.

But then you hop your way over to him once he walks into the kitchen, rubbing hands up his bare chest before locking your arms behind his neck, reaching up on tiptoes to kiss his lips. And it’s not just a peck, either. And the curse’s aphrodisiacs have worn off.

And maybe, the irreparable effects from last night aren’t going to be so awkward after all.

#yuuta x reader #jjk x reader #yuuta smut #jjk smut #yuta x reader #yuta x y/n #🐞 writes #tw.incest #tw.sex pollen #tw.drugged sex #🐞 q

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coeurify · 8 months

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actually on my knees begging for a girl next door blurb with Ellie

like imagine moving into the house next to her’s and her being all grumbly and closed off because she cannot physically face the reader because she’s just a loser lesbian and OMG THE UNKNOWN PINING SUJDJSNSNDB

I NEED HER I CANT-

WHERE IS THE LOVE FOR LOSER GND!ELLIE ⁉️

giggles.. cause like.. yea.

if we r talking modern!ellie, oh god would it be the most cliche shit ever (plz tell me if u want jackson!ellie version cause i’d be happy to do that too. or jus more of this concept) [not edited]

⋆˚✿˖° im talking, ellie looking out from her window in her old house, eyes narrowing as a moving truck pulled into the pretty blue house next door. the neighborhood had been recently taken over by young families, which ellie hated— cause why was she being interrupted in her ‘laying in her bed while blasting music and complaining to herself’ alone time by a bunch of kids screaming outside? either way. she expected another one of these cases.

⋆˚✿˖° but then you popped out, trying to handle three boxes all on your own, cheek pressed against the cardboard as you yelled something ellie couldn’t hear to whoever else was in moving truck. you had glanced over at ellie’s house, maybe even up at her window. and maybe ellie was just dramatic, but she flipped away from that window and face down onto her bed so quickly she was pretty sure it was a new record. because fuck you were pretty.

⋆˚✿˖° and it only got worse later, when el was pulling her hair down from its bun, glancing the sun pressing below the clouds. her fingers moved to close the curtains of her window, and there you were, standing at the window directly across from hers. like— shit straight from a taylor swift music video or something.

⋆˚✿˖° and you, almost as awkward as her, let your hands fall down from their place above your head. you had been putting up shades, but once you caught the gaze of your messy haired neighbor, you smiled at her. fuck, you smiled and waved and ellie just turned away and shut her curtains. you know, like the master at social interactions she was.

⋆˚✿˖° a twin frown painted both your lips at the interaction that night, and at the same time you both huffed out, “god, why’d i do that?”

⋆˚✿˖° nothing really got better from there. not when your family forced you over to ellie’s house with a plate of cookies, your sweet smile the first sight ellie had seen that day as she turned the doorknob to shoo away some girl scout selling something. “we don’t need— oh— oh hi.”

⋆˚✿˖° you looked so fucking pretty. ellie was sure it was fake. maybe she was still in bed dreaming. maybe this was about to turn into one of those really weird s- never mind. you were talking now, and not asking to borrow sugar, so definitely real. “hi! uh— I just, we— i mean, my family, we just wanted to introduce ourselves. and give a gift i guess,” you glance to the plate of wrapped up treats and chuckle lightly. because really, cookies?

⋆˚✿˖° ellie was about red as the shirt she was wearing, stammering a thank you as joel creeped behind her at the door. “you the new neighbors kid?” joel had asked, making ellie clam right up. she backed away from the door, like— just side shuffled out of your view with an awkward wave.

⋆˚✿˖° your eyes followed her, fighting back the odd sense of disappointment that you were no longer staring at the freckled and flushed face of your new neighbor. “uh, yea—yes sir.” you eventually spoke again, offering your grin to joel instead.

⋆˚✿˖° one time joel was doing yard work the same time your family was outside working on the garden. you were fanning your sweating cheek with your hand, the warmth from the sun along with carrying in and out heavy tools was not exactly ideal, and you only felt more heated when ellie came outside the door at the exact moment joel ended up making conversation with your mother.

⋆˚✿˖° “your girl in college?” you could hear him ask, but it was lightly muffled, your attention instead on watching as ellie struggled to bend over and tie her converse against the wall. what an odd way to do it. she was balancing some sort of notebook between arm.. maybe pencils too? did she draw? or maybe write? why couldn’t you stop wondering about it?

⋆˚✿˖° your mom answered joel’s question with some version of the story she always does, gushing about how you were doing so well in school, how she was so proud of you. you didn’t tune back in until joel was speaking again, “ah yea, my — well, ellie, she’s in school too. physics major. but she’s got this thing for astronomy too. kid’s always talking about double majoring.”

⋆˚✿˖° god, she was cute and smart? and her name was ellie? you swore the sun got even hotter at the thought of her talking to you about quantum something-or-other, just nodding along. god you could see it now. a hand in that pretty auburn hair.. mumbling ‘mhm.. whatever you say ellie.’

⋆˚✿˖° then you saw her trip down the stairs on her porch as she looked over. full on hand on the side of the stairs to keep her from eating shit on the rocks there. you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, stifling a giggle as you wave her way. only to be given a tight lipped smile as she quickly moved away to her car. god. what an odd girl.

⋆˚✿˖° ellie simply lost it the moment she sat in her car, groaning loudly as she slammed her sketch book on her face. “stupid fucking shoes!” she muttered, as if it was the shoes fault for tripping, and not the way she had been intently staring at your face from across the yard. definitely not.

⋆˚✿˖° but really she couldn’t help it, you looked so good, you were wearing shorts, and ellie was happily taking in the sight of skin before that evil fucking creaky porch board got her tumbling down. fuck. she couldn’t ever talk to you again. not ever. she let her head fall to the steering wheel as she went through a million and one ways to simply become invisible and escape any way of running into you. maybe she should become nocturnal.

⋆˚✿˖° but when she let her head fall to the steering wheel, it honked. like a loud, drawn out honk that had you, joel, and your mother’s head turning to the direction of the sound.

⋆˚✿˖° ellie screeched, and you pressed fingers to your lips to contain another smile. you were pretty sure living here was going to be kind of great.

#not my writing comeback.. urm #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x fem reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fanfic #ellie williams fic #ellie williams fluff

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teatreeoilll · 4 months

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|| Selfish (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

(Reposted from my old blog which I don't have access to anymore (thanks Tumblr), if you liked it reblogs or likes would be appreciated to get me back on track since I've lost all my followers and half my work :(

In which Gojo is so protective over reader she's sure he hates her. Couldn't be further from the truth, but how would you know it without some good old-fashioned over dramatic angst?

TW: mentions of smoking and blood.

Nobara sits beside you, her look shifts to your shoes, "Where'd you get those? I never saw them in this color before."

"Kugisaki!" You plea, "I'm serious, please. Gojo hates me. How does it make sense that I'm stuck in damn Grade 2 for the past year and half?"

"Maybe," She takes her phone out to take a picture of your shoes, "You're just not as good as you think?"

"Oi, Kugisaki, don't talk to your elders like that!" Yuji's voice butts in, he sits with a thump on the stairs next to you. "But I can't imagine Gojo-Sensei hating anyone. Especially a teaching assistant. It makes no sense."

Disheartened, you've reduced to sharing your feelings with first-years before training. "Alright, pair up. We haven't got all day!" You get up from the steps, trying to pick up the remains of your self-esteem.

Dusk crept over the surrounding trees. You've been watching the students for hours now, noticing how through each change in their pairings they've gotten better and faster. Familiar feelings loomed over you. That's it. That has to be it. Another day of watching these kids surpass their own limits so simply will surely be the end of the line.

You marched straight into Gojo's office, not even making an effort to change to something not drenched with sweat.

"We will not have that conversation again," the white haired man didn't even bother to look up from his phone. It's true, you've had this conversation every couple of months - and you've always received the same unsatisfying answers.

"You're right," you found yourself standing straight across from him, the palms of your hands hitting the desk in between you a little too hard.

"Careful with that, it's expensive." He says. You stare at him in silence. How is it, that with all the anger you hoped he'd notice you've directed at him, he wouldn't even avert his gaze from his phone for one minute?

"Saturo, I've -"

"First name basis, are we now?" Another smug smirk sent your way, your cheeks began to burn.

"I think first name basis may be appropriate, since I've decided to transfer to Kyoto." Oh god, when was that decision made? You've always liked Tokyo, the proximity from the city made all your futile efforts here worthwhile. But it was too late to back down. Gojo's hand reached to his blindfold, one blue eye peeks at you.

"Alright, good luck then." The blindfold snapped back on, his attention returned quickly to his phone.

"Good luck then," you mutter to yourself, walking back through the darkening corridors to your room, "Good luck then, huh?" It's been over five years now since you've first arrived in Jujutsu High, was good luck then all that he could say? What a fucking -"

"Emergency!" A voice rang through the building. Oh god, what now? You think, with your eyes set on your room to wallow the evening in your newly made terrible decision.

"Someone! Please!" Your legs carried you before your reasoning did. Through the curves of the hallways, straight to the first-year's rooms.

"It's Yuji," Kugisaki looked at you, panting, "He tried to pet Megumi's divine dog. I don't think the dog liked it."

Yuji held out his arm. After a thorough inspection, it was just a scary looking graze on his forearm. He muttered to Nobara it wasn't much to fuss about, the blood smearing on the sleeve of his uniform. "It's nothing bad, we'll tend to it any way to avoid an infection," you prompted him to get up from his seat, "I think Shoko's still in the infirmary."

She lit her cigarette, the smell of smoke suffocating the small room. "That's nice, when will you be back?" She asked, huffing smoke in the direction of the open window.

"I don't think I'll be back for a while. Or at all, actually." She dragged a chair to the side of the bed, watching your fingers tap on the fabric.

"I wondered when you'll finally do that. You spoke to Satoru again, didn't you?" A sigh escaped her lips. She'd rarely admit to liking spending time with anyone, but the occasion seemed to call for it. "I'll miss you. That prick always thinks he's doing the right thing."

"It's because he'd never tell you how scared he is for something to happen to you. It's still selfish, don't get me wrong there - but I think he's far too afraid of something happening that it has become easier for him to sabotage you. I told him repeatedly to stop but he just -" Her words cut off by a knock on the door.

"Ieri! You there?" Gojo's impatient knocking had turned frantic. "The lights are on, Shoko. Open up!" Your eyes shot up at Shoko, speak of the devil. The handle turned lightly.

Gojo entered the room, turning straight to Shoko, not even looking at your direction. You'd managed to quickly find an excuse to leave, struggling to believe that's the same man who'd do anything out of concern for you. You closed the door, fingers lingering on the round handle, thinking how wrong it would be to eavesdrop while pressing your ear to the door.

"You know she's really leaving, right?" Shoko's distant voice lectured. "That's on you for acting selfish, Gojo." As you thought, he said nothing. Quickly diverting the conversation to something relating to a mission, another one you weren't supposed to be a part of. Perhaps it was wrong to eavesdrop. You stepped away from the door to turn to the direction of your room. Finally, some good wallowing time.

With your bags half packed, you were almost ready to say the sudden goodbyes to the students. The nostalgic look on every part of your room had already taken over, the final time of staring at that crack on the ceiling, the final time of covering that old coffee stain on the nightstand with a small glass whale statuette Gojo brought from one of his trips. Perhaps it's better to leave it there.

His pacing slowed, he took a step towards you, you gulped at the narrowing distance between your bodies. "I - spoke to Shoko. I think I got carried away, you don't have to leave on my account." The words felt empty as he said them, Shoko must have chewed him out well yesterday.

"You know Go-," You inhaled, "Satoru, not everything happens because of you." He dropped his sunglasses further down on the bridge of his nose, his blue eyes piercing through you. You hardly ever saw him without his blindfold, his stare sending shivers down your spine.

"Shoko was quite adamant it's all my fault, So I thought I better -"

You laughed, "Shoko was also quite adamant that all this time you just cared about me, so I guess even smart people can be wrong sometimes."

"But I do." His hand brushes through his hair, just for it to fall over his eyes again.

"Funny," you snarl, he studies your expression silently. You've taken advantage of that silence to continue, "So all these years you were just protecting me from dying? I thought sorcerers had accepted that fate when walking in here."

"Some things are worse than death," A solemn look takes hold of his face, you could have sworn the color of his eyes darkened.

"Do you take me for such a weakling?" Your tone of voice already deeming the conversation as pointless.

"I never said that. I think you care, perhaps too much. I would never want to see you sacrifice yourself over anything." The joyless tone of voice was far from his usual demeanor.

"You're not listening to me, (Y/N)" He could hardly cover how irritated he was, his hand gripped your forearm, pushing you towards him. His breath stroked your face, "I would never want something to happen to you, but you seem to be pushing towards it all the time. Aren't you happy with the students? Why do all of you have to go running around searching for burdens to carry when you don't have to?" His fist contracts tighter around your arm. His teeth clench to stop another flow of words he'd regret later on.

"Aren't you happy?" he questions you again, you wiggle your arm as a sign of pain, even as he lets it go you still feel the marks that his fingers left there.

"I am, It's just that -" He couldn't let you go on for a second longer, his lips pressing firmly against yours, your breath sucked away by his tongue. A long minute passed, your hand had found a happy place inside his hair, his arms had restricted your movement and emitted safety all together.

Just as he'd stopped for a breath, you'd decided it'd be far too hard to continue the conversation if this went on.

"I'd like to not be hindered, Satoru," you wiped the wetness of your lips with your sleeve, "Nobody comes to Jujutsu-High to be protected, they come to protect. If I can't do it when you're there, I'll go." You watched his face change, his mind racing behind the sunglasses.

"You can do it here," A piece of sadness was left in an otherwise tranquil voice.

"Good." Your smile had reminded him to breathe, "Now," you mused, "Would you mind kissing me like you're angry again?" His laughter lifted the tension from your body,

"Oh - Dirty," The familiar smirk had settled down the final waves of emotion.

"Not a word, Shoko." You pleaded to her again.

"If you don't want the school talking about it, then don't have your arguments in the hall." She took a long drag from her smoke, "Would you mind kissing me like you're angry again?" She imitates you silently, chuckling under her breath.

"Shoko, I'm begging you!"

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo X reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x y/n #jjk x you #gojo satoru #jujutsu gojo #satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo X you

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kiwanopie · 2 years

Text

Physical Therapy

boyfriend!kiyoomi part V!! smut smut smut but also fluff and a little bit of dom!reader. mommy is used (1) once but not by kiyoomi. minors do not interact.

Your voice comes out airily. A little frayed, a little frustrated.

“Thank god for HIPAA laws because I swear,” You run your fingers through Kiyoomi’s hair. “These mothers wouldn’t know autonomy if I smacked them in the back of the head with it.”

“Mhm.”

“I mean, one of my clients’ mother’s been mass emailing all week trying to get me to hint to her ‘troubled son’ that his panic attacks have been putting a “massive strain” on her recently-“

“Hm…”

“Like no wonder these kids have such a hard time opening up at home, their - ah - parents have a skewed understanding of what real priorities are!”

“Hm- Mhm.”

You scoff. God, he loves it when you get all psychiatric but there’s like no blood flowing to his head right now. “I swear, It’s like some of these parents drop their kids off at my office and expect me to program them into becoming… hm… be-…coming their ideal child…! My best guess is half of these adults should consider - fuck - seeking out a therapist themsel- ohh my god…”

Your hips drunkenly rock into his face from where he’s got your hips all but pinned against him. Rough fingers gripping so tightly into your work skirt that they audibly creak against the fabric, and if not for the running volleyball game playing on half volume behind you, you’re certain that the room would be filled with the sodden sounds of his sloppy tongue; digging you out while you complain about your workload this week. Kiyoomi was already springing into action the moment he saw you slump your way out of his genkan and straight to the ice cream stash in the kitchen. So quick on your heels that he could barely bother to pause the game he was re-watching.

Call it a love language. After last month when he moped his way into your humble flat to complain to you about some contract changes with his current sponsor. Something about more media interaction, that and he was gonna have to DIY a few ads for them on his social media. He could barely get a few words out before you were nuzzling your nose against his zipper. Lovingly rubbing up his thighs as you insisted he got all his frustrations out.

“A-All my frustrations out? You want me to…?”

You guide his hand until he’s grazing the short hairs on the top of your neck. “Be as rough with me as you need, baby. I’m here for you.”

Kiyoomi’s moans are muffled by the squish of your thighs. Who’s getting more out of this? He couldn’t say. But if the way his eyes roll when your fingers dig into his scalp should say anything, he might be safe calling it 50/50.

Your lips part as one of his free hands pull at your blouse until the buttons are popping, roughly palming your tits through your bra as you whine against him. “It’s a… good thing I took this pediatric job. If not for a - godd, oh fuck - difference in perspective.”

Kiyoomi answers you with a sound that’s more of a groan than a dutiful hum. Raising his hips like it’ll give him more friction where he wants it, but like the godsend you are you reach behind yourself to rub him through his sweats.

“‘Least I know… that if we had kids I’d be a half decent mother…”

You must feel the way his cock needily twitches under your palm at the sound of that because your voice evens in a way that makes him goosebump. “You like that, huh? Oh don’t tell me Omi’s really been dying to make me a mommy?”

The vibrations of his broken groan makes your thighs tighten over his ears.

“Ah - You wanna fuck me full? Fill me up till I’m brain dead?”

His tongue rolls over your clit with just enough force to have your voice pitching. He tilts his chin up just to make sure it’s his tongue you're clamping around when you start to cum.

Although with what you all but hiss next, grabbing a rough hold of his scalp and pressing his head back like he’s just a warm mouth to fuck. “- Or, would you just be satisfied with blowing your load into my hand, you fucking slut.”

Kiyoomi cums so hard he thinks he may have gone deaf.

Because he barely hears the pathetic whimpers he lets out in your spasming cunt as he starts to hump into your hand like a dog. Lilted voice breaking off into a gravelly groan, so cum-drunk that he keeps at it even as his seed wets a dark spot in sweatpants. For a moment, he can’t even register the sound of your broken - clearly overstimulated mewls.

Kiyoomi reluctantly lets you go when you finally climb off of him.

“You okay?”

“Mhm.”

You giggle a little before pecking him on his wet mouth.

Kiyoomi’s a little sluggish in his attempt to scoot his large body to the side to make room for you to lay comfortably beside him. Pressing his back into the head of the couch even as the springs quietly creak, but any room you don’t have to be completely sunken into the sofa he makes up for by using his arm to belt you against him.

He sighs.

“Move in with me.”

“Hm?”

Biggest Fan

#boyfriend!kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa smut #haikyuu!! smut #hq smut #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu!!#hq sakusa #hq x reader #haikyuu sakusa #sakusa fluff #sakusa x reader #hq fluff #x reader #hq

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daddyslilchickenfingers2 · 6 months

Text

Kinktober (reuploaded)

Breeding (Chris)

Request: Baby fever with Chris I BEG YOU/omg when you write breeding Chris can you add Y/N saying she wants to have a baby with such pretty blue eyes like Chris

Warnings: Talk of pregnancy, breeding obviously, soft/slow sex

Y/n’s pov

Chris and I have been dating since we were 17 but I’ve known him and his brothers since we were 4 years old. From the moment we started dating, our families always joked saying we’d get married one day. Well, that was a future reality, since Chris had proposed to me in May of this year. Even though we’ve only been engaged for a few months and we’re only 20, I would love to start a family with him. We had this conversation the other day with Nick and Matt, for some reason the topic was babies and Chris was ecstatic.

“I want like four or five babies! I can’t wait until Y/n gets pregnant, she’s gonna be so cute with our baby in her belly” he smiled, poking me in the stomach. “Ow Chris don’t do that. We do have baby fever though” I laughed as Nick grimaced. “I hate babies and I hate children” he said, Matt smacked him, “Oh shut up Nick you know when they have a baby you’re gonna be the cool gay uncle” he laughed. “I’m not changing diapers” Nick grimaced again, “I wanna make Y/n fat and pregnant” Chris beamed happily.

That was like five days ago, today we were having a lazy day, we lived in the guest house behind Matt and Nick’s. They got it built after hearing me and Chris fuck too many times, but still, it was a nice gesture and we get to still live with them basically. “Would you really have babies with me?” I asked Chris as I cuddled up to his side. “I’d love nothing more than to get you fat and pregnant. Our babies would look so cute” I could literally hear the smile in his voice. I pulled away and sat up against the headboard, Chris doing the same right after, looking at me with a big smile.

“Our kids can’t call me daddy though, that would be fucking weird” he laughed, causing me to smack his chest. “They could call my parents Mimi and Papa, and yours Grammy and Pop-Pop. Those sound so cute!” I gushed. “My dad would love Pop-Pop” Chris laughed again. “You know what I would love?” I asked, earning a small hum for me to continue, “I’d love for the baby to have your pretty blue eyes and gorgeous pink lips” I told him as my eyes shifted between the two, Chris doing the same to me. “Yeah?” he asked breathlessly against my lips, “Yeah” I said back in the same way.

Chris leaned in and softly pressed his lips against mine, moving us to lay back. “Let’s make that blue-eyed baby right now! You’re off birth control right?” he asked softly, stroking my cheek with his thumb. “Yes, now let’s make that baby” I smiled, placing a passionate kiss to his lips, after a few minutes, Chris pulled away. He took off his shirt and sweats before pushing my shirt up to see my stomach. “You’re gonna look so good pregnant. Can’t wait to put a baby in your belly” he said while kissing all over my stomach.

“Chris— babe please hurry!” “Sorry, I’m just so excited to have a kid with you” he blushed hard. Chris pulled my shirt over my head before taking off both our underwear, running two fingers through my folds. “So wet already- can we just go straight into softly fucking?” he asked breathlessly, “God, yes” I whined back. Chris slowly slid in and started thrusting fairly fast right away, not too fast though. I pulled him down for another kiss and we let breathless moans out into it, having both a passionate kiss and sex. I was running my fingers through his hair softly while the other held onto the side of his jaw.

One of Chris’ hands moved down to my clit, rubbing it quickly. Pulling away from the kiss, he started talking, “This is like the slowest sex we’ve ever had but— shit! This is gonna be the fastest I’ve ever cum, want you to cum for me princess” he said lowly. I let out a few loud moans before I started cumming, “Oh fuck Chris, so good babe. Want you to cum in me” I moaned. Chris hid his head in my neck, whining as he came in me, pumping into me a few more times before pulling out. He immediately moved down to finger his cum into me, not wanting any to spill out.

“Can’t believe we’re going to have a baby” he said excitedly, kissing all over my stomach. “They’re going to have the prettiest blue eyes, just like their dad” I smiled while playing with his hair. “God, I love you so much Y/n!” he said, looking at the pretty engagement ring on my finger. “I love you so much more” I replied as we both cuddled up with each other and drifted off to sleep, hoping we’d have a happy little family soon.

<<< 12 months later>>>

A few months ago I gave birth to a beautiful baby boy, Chris was ecstatic to find out he was going to have a son. He does, in fact, have Chris’ pretty blue eyes, he’s so tiny but you can already tell he has his dads nose as well. We named him Nolan Cole Sturniolo, Chris is literally the best dad ever, he helps me with everything. Matt and Nick are so excited that they’re uncles now, Matt always offers to babysit him so me and Chris can go on date nights. I wonder if he’ll be confused when he grows up, having a dad and two uncles who look exactly the same and all. Anyways I’m very happy with our little family.

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piratefishmama · 8 months

Text

Fake it till you make it | Part 12

Check in and going through security were painless, it went by with only minimal sweating from Eddie as his bag went through the scanner, the all clear earning a breath of relief that’d almost raised a few brows. After that Eddie spent the majority of the wait time before boarding practically glued to the windows in the business-class lounge, eyes wide with wonder as he took in all of the planes coming and going from the runway in plain sight before him, Lynda sending Steve pointed little looks every now and then as if to say, “He’s very cute, isn’t he?”

Which Steve had no choice but to agree with, not just for the bit, but also because he was cute. He was very cute, like a kid outside of a candy store trying to inhale candy through the glass windowpanes. He couldn’t believe he’d never noticed just how cute Eddie Munson could be sometimes.

Boarding was trickier. Eddie decided last minute that he was glued to his seat in the lounge. His parents going on ahead to get themselves settled, taking theirs and Steve’s carry on’s with them, Steve stuck behind to coax Eddie into moving. “Eddie you have to get up”

“Ooor I could just stay here, on the ground, where humans belong.” Steve was actually pretty surprised at how strong Eddie’s grip actually was because he couldn’t seem to pry it from the arms of the chair.

“Just think, someday, when you’re a big rockstar, you’ll be travelling in these all the time from place to place!”

“Nuh-uh, we’ll drive there, US only shows, we’ll have coaches.”

“You really wanna spend all that time in a bus with Gareth and Jeff? I mean Frank’s pretty solid but Gareth and Jeff? Pretty sure I remember them both having Cheeto dust on their fingers for a whole week solid one time and don’t even get me started on that time Gareth slurped up mountain dew from the lunch table.”

“That was a dare” Eddie was valiantly choosing not to turn into a puddle of ooey-gooey mess over the fact that Steve knew the names of his bandmates, they’d never believe him, no way did Steve Harrington know who they were. Nuh-uh.

“That was disgusting, is what it was. They don’t even wipe those tables.”

“I know, he got mono.” Sure as hell didn’t get it from makin out with anyone.

“Oh my god. Look, we have to go Eddie.” Hands on hips, typical mom stance.

“…Can you hold my hand like you promised?”

“Yes.” Steve offered his hand, which hesitantly, Eddie took, finally relinquishing his grip on the chair just enough for Steve to yoink him out of it, giving him just enough time to grab his guitar case before he was being pulled down the gangway and onto the plane.

Just like the kisses, all it took was a little coaxing, a gentle nudge to push those fears and anxieties away.

He was practically soup in his reclining window seat business class seat right up until the attendant came by to tell everyone to sit up straight and buckle up for take-off. He didn’t let go of Steve’s hand though. Their seats were next to each other, and that hand was glued to his. “Is it too late for me to run away?” Eddie asked, eyes on the window as the gangway was retracted, ignoring the captain’s announcement over speakers greeting them and thanking them for choosing the airline.

“Little bit, yeah.” Steve gave his hand a gentle squeeze as the plane began its slow crawl to the runway. “I’ve got you though, okay?”

“Okay.” There were no delays, there was no waiting, the plane made its way directly to the runway and rounded the corner to the long strip of tarmac that it’d take off from, engines thrumming, Eddie’s hand gripped his tighter, those big brown eyes wide on that window.

“Eddie”

“What?”

“Look at me.” Eddie, with great hesitance, turned away from the window and looked to Steve. The plane started moving. Steve, with his free hand, reached forward and took Eddie’s jaw, easing him in closer, those doe eyes flicking down as if expecting something more “focus on me, not on the window.”

“But—”

“On me, Bambi, eyes on me.” The plane sped up, faster and faster, machinery whirring, the sound of metal and gears moving filling the plane as the wings adjusted to climb, Eddie wanted to ask, wanted to check, just to make sure that the plane was supposed to be making those sounds, but he could barely breathe under Steve’s gaze, trapped in it, Bambi rattling around in his head because where had that come from? And then they were climbing. “You can look now, baby” he blinked, his head snapped round to the window to see clouds.

“Holy shit we’re—”

“We’re flying” Steve finished, giving his hand another squeeze.

“We’re flying, holy fuck!” There was that smile, toothy, dimpling his cheeks, Eddie’s free hand pressed against the window, face pressed up next to it as he tried to look up until the clouds cleared for him, revealing nothing but blue skies above and the cottony white of the cloud tops beneath.

He didn’t even notice the disgruntled looks or the mutters of stuck up rich people, didn’t notice the negativity he was receiving from the other business class flyers, all of which were promptly subdued by the scathing expressions of all three Harringtons combined. He didn’t even notice that he’d slipped his own hand free just to press that one against the glass too.

Steve caught his mother pressing a hand to her chest over her heart as she watched him, clearly deeply affected by his childlike wonder at something all three of them, likely everyone in that section, took for granted as if it were just driving a car, or riding a bike.

Nine more hours to go.

“Have you ever joined the mile high club?” It was as though Eddie timed the question, waiting until the perfect moment, the first gulp of a complementary glass of champagne that Eddie politely declined for himself as more of a shots shots shots!! Type of guy, it was as though he timed it precisely for the moment that Steve took his first sip.

It went down the wrong hole, Steve winding up choking in his seat on his first glass of champaign while Eddie grinned like a maniac, his legs pulled up criss-cross on the reclined seat while most of the eyes in the section turned to look upon them in judgement.

His parents just shook their heads and continued with their conversations, something about business, Eddie hadn’t been paying too much attention to them both since he’d gotten tired of watching clouds go by. Couldn’t even make shapes out of them that high up, it was just a blanket in most places, all the definition and shape on the underside.

He was waiting for a moment to be childish.

“W-what?” Steve asked through his coughs, Eddie took a little pity on him and gave his back a couple of firm smacks to help clear out the liquid.

He wasn’t done though. “Mile high club, y’know, sex in a plane? Your exploits in the boudoir, Sir Harrington are legendary, I simply must know if you’ve ever gotten down an dirty in one of those tiny bathrooms on these things.” Steve caught the look his mother sent him, the slow turn of her head, the dry raised brow, then his father leaning forward in his chair, his own brow raised in question, his father slightly more entertained than his mother.

“No!” Steve spluttered “No, I haven’t, I wouldn’t I—”

“Liar liar pants on fire, you would, you know you would, how could you lie to me on our first trip as a family, Steven I’m heartbrok—”

“Eddie oh my god, why?” What had he done to deserve this?

“Bored.” Such a simple answer, Steve had hired a demon. It was the only explanation, Eddie was sent to torture him by being mischievous and cute, should have been way more cautious about anything Dustin suggested. “An you totally have, I’m sure of it.”

“Oh, and what makes you so sure?”

“W—”

“Don’t answer that.” Steve very quickly thought against allowing him to answer when his question was followed by thee most devious grin Eddie Munson had ever displayed in public. “Just sleep like most people do on these things.”

“When have I ever been able to be defined by the words ‘like most people,’ Stevie? I laugh in the face of most people, most people tremble in fear at the very mention of my name~ muwahaha” It wasn’t actually fair how easily he could make Steve crack a smile. No matter how annoying he was being, how unusual, no matter whether he was clearly trying to annoy the other passengers now that he’d noticed their looks.

Steve couldn’t fight the traitorous smile that snuck upon his lips and why would he want to when Edde seemed to light up like Christmas when he got that magical smile? When his shenanigans were proven effective at getting Steve to smile like that? “Is that your actual name or your dungeons and dorks name?”

“Mostly the dungeons and dorks name, if I’m honest, I have a reputation, it’s pretty brutal. I killed Gare-bear within ten minutes of a campaign once he sat there fuming for the whole session.” It’d been a complete fluke, a bad run of rolls right out of the gate, everything that could go wrong, did go wrong. So much so that Gareth threw the dice into a bonfire afterwards so they could never do harm again. Hilarious to everyone else though. “Have you though?” Eddie lowered his voice, leaning in just enough to appear quiet in his probing,

“Have I what?” Steve finally felt right enough to take another sip of his drink.

“Y’know…” Eddie pressed his forefinger and thumb together and stuck his other finger into the hole twice then pointed upwards with both hands, wordlessly, as if playing charades. “Wink wink, nudge nudge, airplane bathroom?” Charades ruined somehow still charming.

Steve was in trouble, but future Steve could deal with that trouble. Present day Steve had an adorable metalhead to fuck with.

“Bambi, if you’re looking to lose something today, how about we wait for a bedroom, m’kay? Way more spacious than the bathroom on one of these things, trust me.” Ended with a side-eyed wink and another cheeky sip of his wine while Eddie just sat there wide eyed, cheeks flushing with colour as those words sunk in.

“You HAVE!” Wrong words sunk in, dammit.

Part 14

#PirateWrites #FakeItTillYouMakeItFiclet #Steddie #No Upside Down AU #Fake Dating AU #Eddie strikes me as the type of person to be terrified of something until he tries it once #then never addresses how pathetic he was about doing it #will deny ever being scared of it

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teatreeoill · 6 months

Text

|| Selfish (Gojo Satoru X Reader) ||

In which Gojo is so protective over reader she's sure he hates her. Couldn't be further from the truth, but how would you know it without some good old-fashioned over dramatic angst?

TW: mentions of smoking and blood.

"He hates me. I swear, I know it sounds like I'm exaggerating..." You catch yourself muttering on the steps leading to the training field. The breeze tickles your skin, you cast your shoes aside to change them to trainers. "I didn't even have time to go back to my room and change. All day it's do this, go get that… I swear, Kyoto sounds like a great idea these days." Nobara's look shifts to your shoes, "Where'd you get those? I never saw them in this color before." "Kugisaki!" You plea to her, "I'm serious, please. Gojo hates me. How does it make sense that I'm stuck in damn Grade 2 for the past year and half?" "Maybe," She takes her phone out to take a picture of your shoes, "You're just not as good as you think?" "Oi, Kugisaki, don't talk to your elders like that!" Yuji's voice butts in, he sits with a thump on the stairs next to you. "But I can't imagine Gojo-Sensei hating anyone. Especially a teaching assistant. It makes no sense."

It really does make no sense, you drowned your face in your palms. How are all these kids supposed to take you seriously when they see you humiliated daily? Rejected from missions. Stuck on the same Jujutsu-Grade as the second year students for so long you've lost all hopes of ever advancing anywhere. Forever a teaching assistant, a mere substitute teacher for the times when the truly powerful had more important things to do. Disheartened, you've reduced to sharing your feelings with first-years before training. "Alright, pair up. We haven't got all day!" You get up from the steps, trying to pick up the remains of your self-esteem.

You've marched straight into Gojo's office, not even making an effort to change to something not drenched with sweat. "We will not have that conversation again," the white haired man didn't even bother to look up from his phone. It's true, you've had this conversation every couple of months - and you've always received the same unsatisfying answers. "You're right," you found yourself standing straight across from him, the palms of your hands hitting the desk in between you a little too hard. "Careful with that, it's expensive." He says. You stare at him in silence. How is it, that with all the anger you hoped he'd notice you've directed at him, he wouldn't even avert his gaze from his phone for one minute? "Saturo, I've -" "First name basis, are we now?" Another smug smirk sent your way, your cheeks began to burn. "I think first name basis may be appropriate, since I've decided to transfer to Kyoto." Oh god, when was that decision made? You've always liked Tokyo, the proximity from the city made all your futile efforts here worthwhile. But it was too late to back down. Gojo's hand reached to his blindfold, one blue eye peeks at you. "Alright, good luck then." The blindfold snapped back on, his attention returned quickly to his phone.

"Emergency!" A voice rang through the building. Oh god, what now? With your eyes set on your room to wallow the evening in your newly made terrible decision. "Someone! Please!" Your legs carried you before your reasoning did. Through the curves of the hallways, straight to the first-year's rooms. "It's Yuji," Kugisaki looked at you, panting, "He tried to pet Megumi's divine dog. I don't think the dog liked it." Yuji held out his arm. After a thorough inspection, it was just a scary looking graze on his forearm. He muttered to Nobara it wasn't much to fuss about, the blood smearing on the sleeve of his uniform. "It's nothing bad, we'll tend to it any way to avoid an infection," you prompted him to get up from his seat, "I think Shoko's still in the infirmary."

You sat on the infermary bed, with Yuji already on his way back to his room you'd found the time to share your troubles. Shoko sighed, fumbling for a lighter through the things on the tray next to her. "Shoko, I'm going to Kyoto." She lit her cigarette, the smell of smoke suffocating the small room. "That's nice, when will you be back?" She asked, huffing smoke in the direction of the open window. "I don't think I'll be back for a while. Or at all, actually." She dragged a chair to the side of the bed, watching your fingers tap on the fabric.

"I hardly think it's right to deny promotions from anyone for so long. He made sure I was so busy that I could hardly find the time to go on missions." Shoko weighed her words carefully, tapping carefully on the ashtray, removing the ash residue from her cigarette. "It's because he'd never tell you how scared he is for something to happen to you. It's still selfish, don't get me wrong there - but I think he's far too afraid of something happening that it has become easier for him to sabotage you. I told him repeatedly to stop but he just -" Her words cut off by a knock on the door.

"Ieri! You there?" Gojo's impatient knocking had turned frantic. "The lights are on, Shoko. Open up!" Your eyes shot up at Shoko, speak of the devil. The handle turned lightly. Gojo entered the room, turning straight to Shoko, not even looking at your direction. You'd managed to quickly find an excuse to leave, struggling to believe that's the same man who'd do anything out of concern for you. You closed the door, fingers lingering on the round handle, thinking how wrong it would be to eavesdrop while pressing your ear to the door.

By the next morning, you've already made all the necessary calls. Wishing somehow it would be harder to convince the higher-ups of your sudden move, but it seemed that help was welcome anywhere, and work always needed to be done. Your bags half packed, you were almost ready to say the sudden goodbyes to the students. The nostalgic look on every part of your room had already taken over, the final time of staring at that crack on the ceiling, the final time of covering that old coffee stain on the nightstand with a small glass whale statuette Gojo brought from one of his trips. Perhaps it's better to leave it there.

You gathered your nerves, opening the door, just to watch the tall white haired man pace from side to side in the hallway. "Did I forget something?" Your hand held the door open. He jumped up a bit from the sudden voice. His pacing slowed, he took a step towards you, you gulped at the narrowing distance between your bodies. "I - spoke to Shoko. I think I got carried away, you don't have to leave on my account." The words felt empty as he said them, Shoko must have chewed him out well yesterday. "You know Go-," You inhaled, "Satoru, not everything happens because of you." His dropped his sunglasses further down on the bridge of his nose, his blue eyes piercing through you. You hardly ever saw him without his blindfold, his stare sending shivers down your spine. "Shoko was quite adamant it's all my fault, So I thought I better -"

You laughed, "Shoko was also quite adamant that all this time you just cared about me, so I guess even smart people can be wrong sometimes." He puzzled over your answer. "But I do." His hand brushes through his hair, just for it to fall over his eyes again. "Funny," you snarl, he studies your expression silently. You've taken advantage of that silence to continue, "So all these years you were just protecting me from dying? I thought sorcerers had accepted that fate when walking in here." "Some things are worse than death," A solemn look takes hold of his face, you could have sworn the color of his eyes darkened. "Do you take me for such a weakling?" Your tone of voice already deeming the conversation as pointless. "I never said that. I think you care, perhaps too much. I would never want to see you sacrifice yourself over anything." The joyless tone of voice was far from his usual demeanor.

"Well, now you wouldn't have to see me at all." Your nerves had gotten the best of you. You hardly meant to say it, but as the words were spat out of our mouth, it seemed inappropriate to back off this course of action. "You're not listening to me, (Y/N)" He could hardly cover how irritated he was, his hand gripped your forearm, pushing you towards him. His breath stroked your face, "I would never want something to happen to you, but you seem to be pushing towards it all the time. Aren't you happy with the students? Why do all of you have to go running around searching for burdens to carry when you don't have to?" His fist contracts tighter around your arm. His teeth clench to stop another flow of words he'd regret later on.

"Satoru, who's all of us?" In your voice a sense of shame, an empty pit has formed down at the bottom of your stomach, his eyes still fixed upon you. The same feeling of being scorned as a child, a tough love you'd thought would pass you by at this age. "Are you not happy?" he questions you again, you wiggle your arm as a sign of pain, even as he lets it go you still feel the marks that his fingers left there. "I am, It's just that -" He couldn't let you go on for a second longer, his lips pressing firmly against yours, your breath sucked away by his tongue. A long minute passed, your hand had found a happy place inside his hair, his arms had restricted your movement and emitted safety all together.

Just as he'd stopped for a breath, you'd decided it'd be far too hard to continue the conversation if this went on. "I'd like to not be hindered, Satoru," you wiped the wetness of your lips with your sleeve, "Nobody comes to Jujutsu-High to be protected, they come to protect. If I can't do it when you're there, I'll go." You watched his face change, his mind racing behind the sunglasses. "You can do it here," A piece of sadness was left in an otherwise tranquil voice. "Good." Your smile had reminded him to breathe. "Now," you mused, "Would you mind kissing me like you're angry again?" His laughter lifted the tension from your body,

"Oh - Dirty," The familiar smirk had settled down the final waves of emotion.

"Not a word, Shoko." you pleaded to her again. "If you don't want the school talking about it, then don't have your arguments in the hall." She took a long drag from her smoke, "Would you mind kissing me like you're angry again?" She imitates you silently, chuckling under her breath. "Shoko, I'm begging you!"

#jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru

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readingcoco · 29 days

Text

Painted Red 🖤

Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Reader (f)

Words: 5487

Ao3 Link

Summary: Arthur revisits Rhodes Parlour House, hoping to get information about the Braithwaite gold from working girl Ettie. He leaves with more questions than answers and a gift he wasn't expecting.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut, sex work, period typical attitudes, strangers to lovers, medium honour Arthur Morgan, angst, emotional smut.

Chapter Two - The Whore

[Chapter 1]

Arthur.

The air in Lemoyne is cloying. Sticky and thick like Molasses. He hates it here, hates waking up wet with sweat, bitten to an inch of his life by the mosquitos that swarm the lake behind his tent. He’s never been this far south and would gladly leave soon as convenient, except for Dutch’s insistence that gold lies somewhere between the warring Gray and Braithwaite families. He’s less convinced but far from him to try to question Dutch once his mind is set on something.

A high-pitched buzz by his left ear is met with the thwack of his open palm. Gotcha.

Something else is gnawing away at him, too, besides the mosquitos. A stirring in him, he thought, all but laid to rest after Mary, after— the kind that makes itself known only when he’s here, lying alone in his tent, staring up at the ceiling.

Want.

Fuck. He wants her so bad. Ettie, that working girl, up in Rhodes. With her daring eyes and smart mouth — her hands on him, days ago, in the parlour house. Bold as anything. God, if the very thought of her didn’t make a beeline straight down to his cock. He don't like it, don’t like it at all — what she does to him, how she makes him feel. Unarmed. Weak even. But also lighter.

He is appalled to admit he’s considered taking himself in hand more than once now to the thought of her breasts, her smile, the way she looked at him, full of doe-eyed devilment. He’s like some hapless kid. Should be ashamed.

He’s not been with a whore since his 20s. There was that one Dutch paid for when he turned 17, a string of them after Mary ended things the first time around. Abigail? Once. The last time he lay with a woman was when he and Mary briefly came back together before she married. What was that 94… 95? Would he even remember what to do? Would he be able to last? As a whore she ought not to care, especially if he’s paying for the privilege. But he wants to please her. Wants to fill her smart mouth with sounds of pleasure. Watch those daring, teasing eyes roll back in her head as she comes undone for him.

He’s stroking himself now. Her imagined sighs. His name on her lips—

Arthurrr—

“—ARTHUR!”

Dutch shouts him from outside his tent. Inescapable like the soupy Lemoyne air. Goddamnit, he hates it here.

“Best I can stoop to is twenty.”

Arthur nods, weighing the expensive-looking silver bracelet loosely in his palm before handing it over. Hosea was better at knowing the worth of fine things, but the fence was on his way back to camp, and it didn’t make sense to make two trips. Still, twenty dollars wasn’t bad for an afternoon playing errand boy to two star-crossed lovers. Not quite the gold Dutch was hoping for, but something at least.

“Deputy.” The man flashes him a knowing wink, touching the brim of his hat. He winces before stiffly nodding back—damn badge.

He won’t feel too bad about it; the Braithwaite girl, Penelope, had seemed more than content with just the letter, and neither family looked short on finary, as ill-gotten as it was. No, no harm done.

The sun is at its hottest, leaving him half-blind as it beams punishingly up from the road ahead. Sweat pours from his brow, and he can barely see where he’s going when he finds himself steering Branwen right up the hill towards Rhodes rather than carrying on straight in the direction of camp.

Only the stench of the butcher’s meat left out too long in the midday heat is enough to break him from his trance and acknowledge where he is. As though Branwen had been steering herself, with him merely passenger.

Too late to turn around now, he concedes. Might as well carry on heading where he’s heading.

He takes a long glug from his waterskin before dismounting. Hitching Branwen to the shadiest post of the parlour and making sure she has her fill from the water trough provided—a few extra sugar cubes for good measure.

“Won’t be long, girl.”

The heat was just as hard on the horses.

He assures himself he’s here for reconnaissance— nothing more. If anyone’s likely to have information on the Grays and Braithwaites, it’s her. Probably had enough of them to pick something up the gang could find useful, what with her knack for seeing the stuff folk didn’t want seen.

The twenty dollars burns a hole in his pocket.

Ettie had seemed willing the last time, hadn’t she? Not put off or disgusted by him that he could make out. Maybe the badge had its uses, after all.

Hell, maybe if he slept with her, got it out of his system, he could get on with the job at hand and stop all this silly early morning pining.

The parlour house is sleepy as he enters, too late for the lunchtime trade, too early for the field workers to have downed tools and made their way into town. His eyes skirt sheepishly across the bar.

He’d found himself coming here quite a bit since the gang moved south, not just to avoid Pearson’s cooking but because it was one of the few places that offered solace from the outside sun, the thick leafy green curtains keeping out the worst of the rays. I was nicer than most places he tended to frequent, the white-clothed tables suggesting a level of expected cleanliness from its clientele. And though he’d made sure to kick the mud from his boots before entering, he now chose to stand on the hardwood rather than risk marking the floral rugs that lined the rest of the room.

He can’t see her. Not even sure she's started working yet. And though a couple of girls at the bar make him double-take, none of them are Ettie.

He’s just about ready to skulk out, feeling old and feckless, when he hears her. Laughter carrying brightly from behind him, awakening the entire place from its slumber. He’d forgotten how alive she was. The rough sketch he’d drawn of her the night he’d got back to camp had barely captured her likeness, let alone her charm.

She is sat in one of the wooden booths, perched on the lap of a stout-looking man, happy and light, head thrown back, though he’s certain the man at her seat did little to merit such pleasant sounds.

He stalls for a moment, watching her work and is reminded of Hosea’s ability to tell a person exactly what they want to hear in order to rob them blind — except he isn’t sure who would be robbing who in the current circumstance.

The stout man’s hand paws lecherously at Ettie’s waist, bouncing her on his knee as he ogles up at her. Surely, no amount could be worth the touch of a man like that. Is that how he had looked, too? Leering and pathetic? Sucked in by talk of sketching and paints. She had read him like a book, and he’d allowed it — a fool to think her interest was in anything other than the dollars in his pocket.

Well, if money is all it will take to get her pretty face out of his waking thoughts, so be it.

“Miss White?”

Ettie shifts to face him mid-conversation and grins impishly as though expecting his arrival.

“Hello, stranger.”

But as he opens his mouth to respond, the words of solicitation stick in his throat, and he realises how unpracticed he is at this whole buisness. The man beneath her glares back, warning him off what’s his. Arthur swallows dryly, raising an arm to rest awkwardly on the booth’s divider, the other hooking into the buckle of his belt.

“I believe— Last time I was here you—”

Ettie raises an eyebrow, choosing to watch him flounder rather than step to his salvation.

So she’s toying with him. He sees how it is. Hadn’t acted quick enough the first time around and had her plucked from his side by the drunkard Leigh Gray. Now if he wants her, she’s expecting him to do the same to the dolt under her. He grits his jaw. The glint of his badge catches his eye, and he tries a different tack.

“I’ve heard word there’ve been dangerous men spotted in the area.”

Ettie scans the empty bar and looks back at him plainly.

“Everything seems fine from where I’m sittin’, Deputy.” She puts a playful hand on the stout man’s knee. “Wouldn’t you say so Ernest?” The man nods, wrapping his arm ever tighter around Ettie’s waist.

“Would you just—I’d like it if—” He can feel his cheeks starting to burn as he avoids meeting her eye and instead looks over his shoulder towards the central staircase. He speaks low, “Last time I was in, you asked to show me your work— but we was interrupted.”

A twinkle of recognition from Ettie. “Oh? You still interested?”

“Yes.” He sniffs. It’s out there now. Can’t take it back.

She silently weighs up some mental calculation before placing a palm on Ernest’s chest. “I’m sorry, Darlin’. Would you mind terribly if you bought me a drink some other time? The Deputy and I have a prior arrangement.”

He almost sympathises as he watches the man’s face shift from confusion to disappointment, but before it has a chance to twist into anger, Ettie kisses Ernest squarely on the mouth. “Wait right here. I’ve got someone who’ll know how to make it up to you.” She leaves with a wink and no room for protest, springing up and scurrying across to the bar.

Arthur regards Ernest with an awkward salute, unsure what to say given the circumstances. At least when he robbed men at gunpoint, there was no pretence of polite conversation.

It’s Ernest who is first to break their silence, “She’s a wily one, Deputy. Not as perky as some of the younger girls, but makes up for it with experience.” He slaps Arthur’s arm in a fashion far too familiar. It makes his skin crawl. “Clean, too.”

“They’ll be cleanin' you off this floor if you speak about the Lady like that again. We understood?” He’d done his best not to raise his voice, Dutch’s instructions of keeping a low profile never far from his mind, but the man is still white as a sheet as Ettie arrives back at the booth. With her is a lofty-looking girl with ashy blonde hair, who regards Arthur with an amused up and down as she passes. She doesn’t bother to say hello, instead making a beeline straight to Ernest’s side.

“A birdy told me you were in need of company since yours is being so rudely snatched away,” she says pointedly.

Although Ettie rolls her eyes, it’s obvious she’s in on the bit.

“Ernest, Ida’s going to take good care of you while I take the Deputy upstairs. Don’t have too much fun without me now.”

The walk up to Ettie’s room is long enough for the dread to start to kick in. He can feel his heart pumping in his throat and remembers why he stopped all this nonsense years ago, but then the warmth of her touch meets the small of his back, and she smiles at him gently from under her lashes.

“I’ve been wantin' to get you away from prying eyes,” she says quietly, for his ears alone. “Here’s my room, first on the left.”

As the door closes behind them, he can finally allow his shoulders to relax as he is greeted by the smell of lavender and something sweet he can’t quite place—chamomile, maybe? Her room is small, with sunny yellow walls and surfaces laden with bric-à-brac, the type which collects only once a space has been lived in for some time. Things that would be prone to getting lost or damaged travelling from pillar to post as he did, things he wanted to pick over and admire.

A painting hung to his right catches his eye: a handsome-looking dark bay drinking from what looks like Flat Iron Lake. He moves towards it to inspect it up close.

“You wanna leave your gun by the door, Deputy?” Ettie says softly.

He looks down. Of course. And undoes his gun belt, wrapping it around itself before setting it on the side, along with his hat. He stands before her, disarmed, not quite sure what to make of the curious way she watches him or where to rest his twitching fingers without the cool metal of his buckle to anchor to. He folds his arms.

“That’s Burdock, my baby. I take him out ridin’ whenever I can.” Ettie says, gesturing to the painting that caught his attention.

“You painted this?”

She grins, sticking up her nose with pride. “I did!” Her lack of reticence surprising.

“S’good.”

He’d never been much of a smooth talker when it came to women. Even when first courting Mary it had taken months to build up to asking her for a kiss. But this wasn’t courting, and he’d do best to remember that.

“As flattered as I am, I know you didn’t come up here just to look at my art.”

“Can a man not appreciate a paintin’?”

“They can,” she says, slinking up to him and running a trail of fire across his chest. Pressing herself flush against him. Her hair smells like rose water — not mud, or sweat, or blood. And it disturbs him to think that the last time he felt the heat from another’s body so close, his hands were wrapped around their neck. The tip of her nose aligns with his collarbone, and he could rest his chin on her crown if he felt bold. “But it would be an awful expensive trip just to look at a picture.”

She steps back slowly to look at him, her absence leaving him cold. For a moment he fears she’s sensed the danger he’s sure he radiates — realising a beat too late, the expected next step of their dance.

“How much do I owe you?” he says, flusteredly reaching into his satchel.

“Five dollars. Anything ‘French’ is an additional two — Though considering I’m due payment from our little sweepstakes, I’d be happy to waive the fee for that on this occasion.”

He’d almost forgotten about the bet placed on his head and wondered how often the women discussed what went on behind closed doors, how he would fair in comparison. He cringes at the thought and tries to push it to the back of his mind.

“I ain’t expectin’ special treatment, don’t worry.”

He hands over five dollars, and with the money on the dresser, Ettie retakes her position. The plainness of the transaction and the affection it now entitled him to feeling implausible.

“Relax a little,” her voice comes out like a breath, encouraging him to breathe deeply in time with her. “It’s okay. We’re gonna have fun.” She guides him over to the bed before stepping back to remove her shirtwaist and skirt, each button revealing new skin he now had permission to touch.

As he stands there watching, something about the ungraceful practicality of her undressing fascinates him, how in contrast it felt to the choreographed movements of the rest of her performance. He wonders if this is her more natural state, all furrowed brows and uncoordinated limbs, and if so, what it took for her to keep up appearances.

When down to her corset and underthings, Ettie faces the mirror to unpin the hair fixed neatly atop her head. He is silent as it falls like water, spilling over the ridge of her shoulders and pooling loosely at the base of her spine.

“Your turn now.” She says, and he hardly has time to react before her nimble fingers are working open the buttons of his shirt.

From this angle, he can see how the sun has caught the high points of her face, leaving behind a sprinkle of freckles lightly masked by powder. The slope of her neck is decorated by loose curls and a small silver locket that bobs up and down above her— He dares not gaze lower. Only as she begins to work at his fly does his sluggish brain arrive at the moment in hand.

“You ain’t taking this off?” His voice comes out hoarser than he expects, and for the first time, Ettie looks a little startled, stepping back to look at him hesitantly. He hadn’t meant to scare her.

“I wasn’t planning on. My draws are split, and this unties. Look—” She pulls the ribbon at her shoulder. And he hates that it’s Ernest’s words that colour his view as the loosened cotton strap of her chemise falls away to expose a pretty breast, pushed up by the boning of her corset. Was the man blind? “It’s a little cumbersome to get on and off.” He aches to see her fully, to touch the skin still hidden from view, but he won’t push.

Her hand dips back into his open fly, sliding between a gap in his union suit. He lets out a wince to feel the pads of her fingers making contact with the base of his dick. “That feel good?” she goads. His whole body gone rigid. Barely able to summon words. Nodding sharply in response, as she begins to ease him out.

The pace in which she palms him feels foreign compared to his hand's efficient strokes, but she is responsive to each breath, learning him with every shudder and tense of his jaw. His eyes flutter closed, and for a moment, he allows himself to get lost in the sensation of her experienced hands. Rare he is permitted such selfish pleasure. Rare anyone did anything for him without expectation of its return tenfold. And yet— The lopsidedness of the arrangement suddenly feels too much to bear. He needs to touch her, needs to make her feel as good as she’s making him.

As her speed quickens, he moves a cautious hand to her breast, cradling her delicately before lightly skimming his thumb across her nipple. Testing. Her rhythm falters slightly, and he is rewarded with a small whimper that escapes half-bitten through her lips. That’s it. He circles the pebbled skin, harder this time, and delights to feel her swell under his touch. Confidence growing, he dips his head lower to taste her. She moans again, but this time unrestrained, head lolling back as he sucks.

“Arthurrr—”

Her strokes hasten, and he needs to hear her keen for him again. Needs to touch her. He reaches down between them, between her legs, trying to find the source of her heat amongst rumpled cotton, but then she is pulling away. Stepping back. Straightening up.

“Hey, this is about you. Don’t worry about me, okay.” She says.

“But—”

“Shhhh, trust me,” Ettie whispers calmly and presses a soft kiss to his forehead. He worries that he has done something wrong, hurt her in some way he didn’t intend, too forceful, too coarse. But like she can read his mind—

“Stay put, I ain’t goin' nowhere.”

She’s good at that, he thinks, toeing the line between gentle and firm. Never going as far to bruise a man’s ego but not coming across as a pushover either. Had she always been that way, or had she learnt how to soothe a man, just as he’d learnt how to intimidate them? Through necessity. What was her natural temperament? What was his?

Ettie walks over to the dresser and grabs a small glass jar, scooping out a little of the contents before returning to the bed.

“You wanna get a little more comfortable?” She says, eyeing his half-open union suit and the jeans around his ankles with amusement. What a sight he must look. But if she was going to remain in her underthings, shouldn’t he? It didn’t seem proper to be exposed when she was not. He kicks off his jeans but leaves his Union suit open, but on.

“What’s that?” He nods to the creamy concoction cupped in her hand.

“Just a little somethin’ for my comfort.” That playful look again. “You are quite… sizable. I wanna make sure I’m ready for you.”

His cheeks darken, her lack of arousal confirming his worst fears.

“Maybe if you let me touch you, you might enjoy it more.”

Her sigh is affectionate. “Who said I wasn’t enjoying myself? Anyone ever told you you worry too much?”

They face each other at the precipice of the bed. His toes curling whilst she slicks up his length with the salve in what feels like one continuous gliding motion, till he is rock hard and panting before her. She shifts herself to bend over the bed, guiding him behind her with a hand on his hip. She arches her back to rest with her forearms on the mattress.

“You ready to show me what you can do, Deputy?”

“Arthur. Please.” He manages to huff out, unable to look away from the way she is presented so brazenly for him.

Ettie gives him a wry grin over her shoulder. “Arthur, I want you to show me what you’ve been dreamin’ on since we first met.” And he wants to show her, too.

Swallowing thickly, he carves a hand between the slit of her draws, spreading them open to finally expose the supple flesh of her backside. The sight alone has his dick twitching in anticipation, helpless to prevent the full handful of her ass he takes in his grasp.

“You’re somethin’ else, you know that?” He croaks.

“Might have heard it mentioned.”

He runs a shaky hand through his hair, steadying his breath, before aligning himself with her entrance. He is mindful not to push into her too quickly, and though the salve helps some, he hears her breath hitch in her chest as she takes him, inch by inch.

“Too much?” He asks, trying to mask his trepidation, but he is answered by an enthusiastic grind of her hips, which sheaths him fully inside. He stops breathing for a moment, caught by the clutch of her cunt. Senses all but lost to the sensation of her heat. His lids grow heavy, but the sight of his cock buried to the hilt has him straining to keep them open. Hypnotised by the way she encases him.

He gently rocks himself backwards and then forward, shallow at first and then deeper, slowly increasing his pace with each slap of their hips.

“Ettie-”

“That feel good, Arthur?” So good. So good. And he wishes he could look into those teasing eyes as she spears herself back onto him. At first, matching his tempo and then provoking him to speed up, take her faster, harder.

He won’t last much longer at this rate. And tries to bat away the sinking feeling that that might be something she wants. For this to be over quickly. She’s making all the right noises, but then again, he walked into this room with a badge on his chest, so honesty was hardly something he felt entitled to.

He wants her closer, craving the reassurance only her face could bring. He arches down over her, carefully hooking an arm around her chest, drawing her up into him, until she kneels upright on the bed with him holding her weight from behind, bodies remaining locked.

“This ok?” He huffs.

“Mhmmm” She nods back hazily.

From this position, he can see her better, the rise and fall of her chest, the growing flush that has spread from her cheeks down her neck, the way her eyes shutter when he reaches for her breast, his other seeking out her heat from below. She hums a little then, a sound so pure it answers all suspicions about the authenticity of those proceeding it. God how he wants to watch her come around him, if only he can last long enough to get her there.

His fingers slip between her folds, spreading her open as he continues to fuck up into her, the slick of her cunt undeniably her own making now. Ettie’s back arches wildly as he begins to rub a tight ring around her clit, and she lets out a noise halfway between a shriek and a moan like she is surprised by the pleasure. But when he tries to continue, she is grasping his wrist, pulling it away from her core and bringing it up to her mouth to suck hard on his fingers. The debauched way she looks at him then almost sends him over the edge.

“Come for me, Arthur.”

God, his name sounds like honey on her lips.

“Just like that—”

Surely she’s not inferring what he thinks she is? But he is near losing himself in the thought alone.

“So close—” She coos, “Just let go, fill me—”

Fuck. Fuck—

He drags his erupting cock out of her just in time as he spills violently onto her ass and then the floor, staggering backwards, trying to catch his breath.

“Jesus! Jesus. I nearly— I’m sorry.” He babbles, feeling boorish and out of control.

“Hey there. I know. I said you could.” She says, turning around to run her fingers through his ruffled hair. He looks back at her, confused, still out of breath.

“Ain’t you worried about—” he stops, trying to find the correct phrasing but becoming aware of the fond, almost patronising look on Ettie’s face.

“I ain’t worried, no.” She smiles gently, “Wouldn’t be much good at my job if I didn’t take precautions.”

He nods sheepishly, though still not entirely at ease, before sitting back down at the edge of the bed, sighing deeply, struggling to enjoy the last twitches of his high.

When his breath returns to normal, he grabs his jeans from the foot of the bed, trying not to cringe at the mess he’s made of her and her floor.

“Don’t feel like you have to rush on account of me,” Ettie says, making her way to a small porcelain jug and basin in the corner of the room. She dampens a washcloth and wipes away all trace of his spend still marking her skin.

“Want me to clean you up?” She approaches him cautiously.

“I’m alright.” He says.

She raises a silent eyebrow.

“I mean, I can manage for myself.”

She nods and hands him over the rag. He’s not sure how to feel as he tidies himself up, but he's aware of her eyes on him, watching, trying to figure him out. Knowing he’s been read before she even opens her mouth.

“When did you last lay with a woman, Deputy?”

He pauses. That bluntness that throws his head through a loop. Dangerous. And he doesn’t know how to answer—what she’s wanting to hear— that it was likely five years since he’d been touched like that? That he’d touched someone else? Was she looking for an explanation for his rustiness or an apology?

“Was it obvious?” he asks, unable to fully meet her gaze.

“Well, you ain’t got a ring and—” She hesitates momentarily. “I shouldn’t say it,” The apples of her cheeks start to ripen uncontrollably until she breaks into laughter. “You fuck like you’ve somethin’ to prove.”

He might be inclined to take such a comment to heart if it wasn’t for the pleasure he took in seeing her so genuinely amused, and before he knows it, he’s chuckling too.

“I just didn’t want it to be awful for you.”

Ettie nudges him with her heel. “You paid me to make you feel good. So as long as you had fun, I did too.”

She lights a cigarette and offers him one from her case: silver, engraved with the initials A.B. in an ornate filigree. He accepts and allows her to light the smoke from the tip of her own. He still doesn’t quite know how to make conversation but is relieved to have something to occupy his hands.

“Still wanna see my paints?” She asks after a few moments quiet.

“That’s why I’m up here, ain’t it?” He says wryly. She scoffs before darting across the room, opening draws, rooting through cupboards, pulling things out left and right—a tornado, leaving a trail of smoke in her wake.

When she returns, her arms are laden with supplies, and she settles down next to him cross-legged on the bed, spreading out her wares between them. She opens a battered-looking sketchbook and smooths out the page.

“See,” she says, stroking the paper and encouraging him to do the same. “Just like the paper in your journal—Oh, wait a second.”

She stands abruptly before dashing off again, this time to the water jug. Her back turned, Arthur flicks through the pages and is rapt by a flurry of faces looking back at him. A few he recognises as girls from the parlour, but there are others too: an elderly woman in a bright feathered hat, a rakish-looking man in spectacles, a little girl with pigtails holding a ragdoll, each of them living and breathing on the page like she had rendered their very souls.

“You snoopin’?” Ettie tuts in mock disapproval, though she doesn’t seem bothered by the intrusion. “And after all the grief you gave me for looking at your art.”

Art.

Arthur had never thought about his sketches in that way before. Sure, he sometimes felt pride if he managed to capture something or someone’s likeness in a way that felt true, but he’d never had any training to consider what he did art. Not like the pretty pictures spread out in front of him now. These felt so full of life he swore he wouldn’t be surprised to see one of them moving.

“These are good,” he says as she settles beside him, her thigh resting lightly against his.

She rolls her eyes, then nudges his arm. “Get your journal out— Don’t worry, I don’t wanna look at any of the drawings— Well, I do, but I’m not going to force you. Just want to show you something.”

He relents and gets his journal from his satchel, handing it over suspiciously, realising only after it’s in her hands how reckless he’s being, and for what? He hadn’t asked her about the blood feud between Grays and Braithwaits, nothing about the gold. The only information gleaned was that his dick still worked, and even that had only served him.

Keeping to her word, Ettie opens the book to an untouched page and submerges her paintbrush into the jug, tapping off the excess water and swirling the tip into a square of dried paint. Her hand hovers over the blank page before gliding the brush across the paper in a flourish of crimson, blooming as it settled, like petals opening at dawn.

“Here, you try.”

She dips the brush back into the jug to clean it off before holding it out towards Arthur. Following her direction, he scrubs the brush into a dark green pan and brings his hand to the paper. His line comes out fainter than hers and less fluid, the brush strokes looking scratchy as he reaches the edge of the page.

“Not enough paint. Got to get it saturated.” She smiles. “But look,” she flicks over the page, “it hasn’t gone through.” She starts to explain about wetting the paper before applying the paint, working in layers, letting stuff dry, getting more and more animated, that he starts to laugh.

“You have to start adding colour to your work. I could—” She stops. “You planin’ on seein’ me again?” The question is abrupt, as though she realises she is getting ahead of herself and needs to square off the basics first.

He hadn’t considered that this would be more than a one-time occurrence but he’d be lying if he didn’t acknowledge the sense of relief that had spread throughout his body and mind in the past half hour. More settled than he’d been in months, maybe even years. Perhaps next time he could get some information out of her. Perhaps next time he could prove himself a less selfish lover.

“I’d like to if you’ll have me.”

“Marvellous! Here—” She thrusts a small wooden box into his hands.

“What’s—?”

***

“A watercolour set for travelling. Not amazing quality but perfect for a beginner or someone on the move.” She gives him a wry smile “You can borrow it and show me how you get on next time you see me.”

She’s a whirlwind, and even as he’s riding Branwen back into camp he still feels bowled over. Not sure how he’s agreed to as much as he has, or if he’s being played, or if he cares to stop it.

Tag list: @redwritr, @twola, @ultraporcelainpig, @cassietrn & @milesology

If you would like to be added/removed from the tag list, just let me know! x

#rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan x fem!reader #arthur morgan x female reader #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan x oc #rdr fanfiction #rdr2 fanfic #painted red

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bloatedandalone04 · 11 months

Text

➪the one where ethan makes you playlist of songs that remind him of you. (requested)

Warnings: fluff, ethan being a cutie and having the biggest crush on you, non-ghostface ethan, more fluff

Word Count: 1.8k | Ethan Masterlist

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine <3

Ethan couldn’t remember the last time he felt like this.

Well, he could as he was still young and it had only been a few years since he had been in middle school. Still, the small crushes he had back then were nothing compared to what he felt now.

His brain felt fuzzy, his heart sped up whenever those eyes met his own, he would break out into a sweat when he felt the brush of skin on skin. He had never had it this bad before.

And you were to blame.

Your sweet smile, your kind eyes and your bright and carefree personality. How could he not instantly be drawn to you?

Ethan was developing a deep crush on you, and at a rapid pace.

He sat in his room, his laptop playing some rock band from its place on his desk while he was across the room on his bed. His thumb was beginning to hurt from his countless hours of scrolling through Spotify, subconsciously adding random songs to a playlist - every song in which reminded him of you.

Cloud 9 - Beach Bunny.

Crimson and Clover - Joan Jett & the Blackhearts.

Compass - The Neighbourhood.

Someone to You - BANNERS.

The list just goes on and he only decided to stop when he saw how long it had gotten, the top of the playlist reading ‘67 songs, 4 hr 21 min’.

God, he felt like a kid again.

His last crush was brutal. Ethan never found the courage to ask the cute girl in his homeroom out, making that story end before it ever even began. He never even spoke to her.

Thankfully, that wasn’t the case with you.

Not entirely, anyway.

He talked to you almost everyday, and that in itself was an improvement from his last crush. He even went out on dates with you…sort of. Group outings with Tara, Chad, Mindy and Anika counted as dates, right?

Either way, it was another improvement. If there’s one thing high school taught him, it was that sitting around and waiting for people to come to him was borderline useless; insert the name of the crush he quickly forgot about upon meeting you.

You; the cute girl in his econ class.

You; his sister’s roommate.

You; the girl currently walking straight towards him.

Shit.

“Hey, Ethan,” you greet in your usual cheery voice.

He smiles back, hoping that he hadn’t gotten too caught up in his thoughts to the point where he was staring at you. He hoped that you didn’t come over here to call him out on it. “Hey,” smooth.

You adjust the strap on your shoulder, tilting your head to the side as you ask, “What are you listening to?”

His brows furrowed before he realized that he still had his earbuds in. Now he knew why your voice sounded so muffled.

Quickly pulling them out, he stuffs the wires away in his pocket as he shrugs. “Oh, um, nothing. Just a playlist I made,” he simply said, applauding himself for being able to sound so casual when his heart was beating a million miles a minute.

You nod, looking down at the tiled floor of the hallway. “That’s cool,” you trail off, feeling like you were bothering him with your sudden presence. Maybe you were overthinking it, but the way he talked made you think you were interrupting something, whatever that something was. The last thing you wanted to do was bother him.

Unbeknownst to you, Ethan didn’t think you could ever bother him.

He sounded so closed off just because he was having a hard time coming up with words, the effect you had on him quickly beginning to take over his whole body.

“Um, well,” you murmur and back away, feeling your face heat up in embarrassment at the short lived conversation. “I guess I’ll see you later.”

Ethan’s eyes widened as he watched you turn around. He mentally kicked himself for being so monotone with you and giving you the wrong idea. Fuck, of course he’d accidentally give you the impression that he didn’t want to talk to you when it was actually the exact opposite. “Hey, wait,” he called out before he was able to fully think it through. You turned around, a small, confused smile on your lips. “I actually wanted to show you something. I made it last night.”

You raise one brow and walk back over to him. “You made it?”

He laughs awkwardly, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Yeah, I was bored,” he answered and tried to ignore the way his heart fluttered at the sound of your laugh. “Can I see your phone?”

“Um, yeah,” you grab your phone from your back pocket and hand it to him, confusion still evident on your face. “How are you going to show me what you made on my phone, though?”

He smiles to himself at your cluelessness, putting in your password - he still can’t believe you trusted him enough to give him that - and going onto the Spotify app. “It’s a playlist,” he tells you and your face heats up for the second time.

“Oh…right,” you nod. “I knew that.”

Ethan shakes his head and hands you back your phone. “I made it for you,” he says. “It’s full of songs that remind me of you.” He hoped you wouldn’t find his words creepy or weird. What was he doing?

You take your phone, tearing your eyes away from his to look down at the screen. It showed a playlist on his account, simply titled ‘For Her’. “Oh, wow,” you say quietly, scrolling through the songs before tapping on the heart icon and saving it to your own account. “Thank you, that’s really sweet.”

His own face heats up in a blush, his eyes meeting yours once again. “No problem,” he says just as quietly. “I hope you like it.”

You smile at him. “I’m sure I will,” your eyes briefly look at his lips before you back away again. “I’m running late, but I promise I’ll listen to it later.”

“No rush,” he calls out as you give him a final smile before turning around the corner.

It was then when he could finally breathe again.

Ethan hadn’t seen you in a few days. You were busy with work and studying and he had more than a few assignments he had to catch up on.

You stayed true to your promise and listened to the playlist. However, instead of just listening to a couple of the songs and skipping over others, you listened to every single one. Over and over again.

Thanks to the app’s friend activity being on, Ethan was able to see that you had the playlist on repeat ever since he gave it to you.

An undeniable feeling of happiness consumed every inch of him, filling him with a sense of pride. He was happy to know that the three hours he spent putting that playlist together weren’t for nothing.

Thank God for Spotify and it’s weird but very useful features.

Another day or so goes by before he sees you again, a warm feeling washing over him as you give him a smile that takes up nearly your entire face. “Hey, Ethan!” You greet him like usual, but this time you catch him by surprise as your arms wrap around his shoulders in a hug. “Thanks so much for making me that playlist. Some of those songs are really good.” You wanted to say all of them were good, but also didn’t want to come off as being too forward.

“I’m glad,” he returned the hug and had to force himself to pull away after a few seconds. “So, I take it you like it?” He knew you did but he also wanted to hear you say it as well.

“Of course, I love it,” you reply, feeling shy all of a sudden. You weren’t dumb, you knew what 99% of the songs were about - if it wasn’t obvious enough. Each one gave you butterflies, as did the title of the list.

For her.

You could kiss him right here and now.

“Good, that’s good,” he says and you try to fight off your growing smile.

“There were some really romantic songs on there,” you trail off, hoping to anyone that was listening that you weren’t reading too much into things. You’d die of embarrassment if you were to confess your feelings to him and have him turn you down. You’d probably cry if he were to say he just saw you as a friend.

Ethan leaned against the bricked wall of the university, his forearm keeping him balanced as he raised it just above his head. “Only some?” He teased, knowing damn well that all of the songs were romantic in one way or the other.

Relief falls over you at his voice, his teasing grin only making you believe your suspicions even more. “Okay, maybe more than some,”

Ethan’s smirk turned into a boyish grin at the way your face began to tint red. “More like all of them,” he smoothly corrected you, not entirely sure where the sudden boost of confidence came from, but not wasting a second of it. “You know, I meant it when I said they reminded me of you.”

You feel your face flush at his words, tilting your head down to stop your growing grin. “Yeah, I know,”

Ethan felt like he could fall over at any given second and he was glad his arm was currently doing a very good job at keeping him up right. Still, before he could lose the courage he rarely ever felt, he inched closer to you as he says, “I’ve been meaning to ask you something,”

You don’t dare move or speak or breathe as you wait for him to continue, your eyes never leaving his.

“We’ve been friends for a while now, and it’s been great. Really great,” he starts and waits for any indication that he should shut up before he ruins something good. When you only slowly nodded, he decided to just go for it. “But I want something more. And I want it with you.”

Your eyes flicker all over his face, butterflies begging to be set loose all over your body as you process his words. Even though you had a strong feeling that you already knew what his answer would be, you still ask, “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I really like you,” the butterflies had officially been released and your face heats up in both relief and happiness, overjoyed that your feelings weren’t one sided. “Would you like to go out with me?”

You refrain from screaming out a ‘yes’ and instead look down at the concrete you were both standing on. Slowly, you nod and don’t bother to fight off the smile growing on your face. “Yes,” you say and feel your heart skip a beat at the way his tense shoulders immediately lift, a grin taking over his own face. “Yes, I would like to go out with you.”

#scream 6 ethan #scream 6 imagines #scream 6 x reader #ethan scream 6 #scream 6 #fluff #ethan landry #ethan landry imagines #ethan landry x reader

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n3ptoonz · 5 months

Note

How’d u think earth realm boys would react to their wife telling me there ready for kids 🎤

mk1 hcs: how the earthrealm guys react to their wife being ready for kids

warnings/tags: suggestive, fluff, female reader obv

Liu Kang

The way you brought it up was so subtle and casual. It was during his downtime, which was kinda rare. A simple "Hey...I think I'm ready to have children." and Liu is looking at you with surprised eyes and a full heart.

Being the kind of man Liu is, and how busy his life has become since being appointed as a god, this man set an exact date and time where there would be zero distractions. All his focus and effort was on you. And in you (ba dum tss)

So be prepared for a long night of passion, love, lust, and care. Cause you're not leaving that bed until you've gotten every last drop

Doesn't mind the gender. Boy, girl, he would love them just the same. Hell, even if it was more than one child at once, he wouldn't hesitate to give them the world.

Smoke

You mentioned it while you two were cuddled up on the couch. Little did you know how red his face turned until you felt his heart beat increase in real time, looking up at him with his genuine concern.

At first you thought he was nervous or probably didn't want to, and once he saw your slight frown he immediately countered that thought. He was so excited he froze. Endless reassurance from him until you verbally say you got it.

Did you think he wouldn't nervously suggest you start as soon as possible?? Pish posh, you are sad- happily mistaken. "Why not try right now?" he said, except he's stuttering over his own words and sweating profusely. No matter how many times you've been intimate with one another, he's always nervous around you <3

Gender doesn't matter to him either, however he does lean more on the side of a daughter. Simply because he'd die at the sight of a little girl running around the house that looked like you. If you had a son though, he'd be sure he doesn't meet ol uncle Bi Han bro would prob try to recruit

Johnny Cage

What if I told you he brought the idea to you one day as a "joke" and you're immediately like "That's crazy, I was going to say the same thing!"? You both looked at each other with narrowed eyes before making a run for it to the bedroom

Less talk, more action. It's safe to say y'all were up all night, touchin', lovin', going multiple rounds to the point where you forgot the entire reason for heading straight to bed. But hey, who's complaining? Johnny promised to tap that at the earliest opportunity (yes, i went there)

He SWORE that cowgirl and mating press were the "only efficient ways" to make sure you'd definitely get pregnant. As if going raw wasn't enough already-

Daughter. He wants a daughter. Give the man a daughter. He won't shut up about being a girl dad when you aren't even a month in yet. He's practicing dad jokes. Even coming up with ones that are tailored to daughters. Has a CVS receipt list of girl names and the only one you both decided that was perfect is "Cassandra/Cassie" (wink) He CANNOT wait to have another favorite girl in his life to spoil!

Raiden

It was after training. You finished first and watched him complete his, and the idea came to you while he was helping one of the younger recruits. You just laid it on him without warning: "I think we should have kids." and cue him almost spitting out his water. Was he dreaming?!

Another nervous one who blushed and stuttered a bunch upon trying to conjure up a response. The thought of having a child with you has been on his mind for some time now and it's like you read his mind, he just didn't want to overwhelm you.

Speaking of overwhelming, that was all out the window once you got home. Going from a peaceful walk to a heated make out session on a matter of seconds. Not to mention, you both had a longgg day of training and could use a shower...why not save some money on the water bill!

Raiden is too good with all types of kids to really have a preference. Growing up with his little sister AND kung lao gave him experience on both sides

Kung Lao

After your weekly sparring session, you got to thinking. You're already married, you've seen him handle kids and younger people well, and most of all he looks so damn hot when he's sweaty and out of breath. Not an unfamiliar sight to you at all!

It was when you two went to Madam Bo's for a good after-spar meal when you slyly threw it into the conversation. Mid bite, he couldn't help but back up from his food and look at you with that classic smirk he does and his dimples are fully visible (currently dying at this imagery.) And he'd end up saying something cocky but playful like "You think I'd oppose you carrying the next great Kung Lao?"

Got straight to it when you got home. Luckily you had already showered after the session, otherwise the water bill would've been looking like a traditional Chinese scroll after you were done. Prepare for his teasing, flirtatiousness, and pride to be multiplied by a thousand

I feel like he'd want a boy, and we all know why. He's not at all opposed to the idea of having a daughter. But if your first child was a daughter, you're going back to that king sized mattress once you've fully healed and trying again! (who's complaining 🤨)

Kenshi Takahashi

He had come home from a long day of a series of trips and tasks given by Liu Kang. You were in the kitchen brewing some tea late at night just because when you heard him come in. He wasn't exhausted, but you could tell he just wanted to drop everything and spend all his time with you the way he plopped down at the dining table.

When you offered food he politely declined since he had already eaten earlier. But he could sense something else was on your mind by the slight shift in your tone. Being visually impaired, his auditory has improved considerably since. "Is something on your mind?" he asked. "I think we should have kids." you responded, sitting next to him with your cup of tea.

He was at full attention now, whatever tired him from the day vanished just like that. You took his silence as uncertainty, so as you began to start listing the pros and benefits, he quickly cut you off with a "Let's do it." "Seriously?" you said, just to make sure you heard him. He stood and took your hand in his, "I'm very serious. We can start tonight, tomorrow, next week. The sooner the better." (hey, starting tonight didn't sound like a bad idea 😮‍💨)

He says he doesn't really stress the gender, but he'd like a son. Kenshi would adore your child under any circumstance, but being an only child (idk if that's canon but it's gonna be today XD) who practically raised most of his younger cousins who mostly consisted of girls, he gets a little giddy at the thought of having an older son younger daughter dynamic around the house.

Sub Zero

With how busy he is all the time and how even more tense he's become since the rift, it was a little difficult to find a way to get his undivided attention. However, the whole reason he married you is because you don't take any shit. You voiced your opinions and concerns whenever you deemed fit, and it never got in his way. So, you waltzed into his office on a mission.

It was one of the few times he wasn't running around or training his heart out. He just got done talking to Cyrax when you walked in looking as determined as the day you met. He knows you never interrupt him unless it's something terribly important. At a moment's notice, he gestured for Cyrax to leave so you could speak your peace.

"What is it?" he asked. You made sure the door was securely closed behind you before walking over to sit in his lap. He was quite surprised but also would be lying if he claimed he didn't enjoy it. "Let's have kids." you said. He always told you to be blunt with him about anything, and this was no exception. "Alright." he replied, seldom reason to say no, especially to the love of his life.

Bi Han would for sure want a son. He's set on carrying on tradition, even if he did oppose some of his late father's views. If you had a daughter as your first born, like Kung Lao y'all aren't stopping until you had a son. Though, he knows he will have to learn to raise your kids better than how he was raised. He'd rather die than ever neglect or overwork his children. Plus, you wouldn't have any of that anyway.

Scorpion

Despite being busy a lot as the head of his new clan, he always makes time for you. All his down time was yours unless you said otherwise. You were giving fighting advice to a recruit when Kuai approached you, a gentle warm hand on your shoulder. Earlier in the day, you said you wanted to talk in his free time

After excusing yourself and talking to him on the way to his office, you wasted no time laying it on him. "Kuai...I think we're ready for kids." He stops in his tracks and looks directly into your eyes. "...You're sure about this?" he asks softly, taking your hands in his with the most gentle gaze you've ever seen from him. He's been thinking about this for a while now, but didn't know how to bring it up. Your approving nod with a smile set his heart ablaze with happiness.

Because of his busy schedule, like some of the other kombatants with a lot on their plate, there's a set day and time. And once that time comes...it's tiimmeee (mariah carey voice) That night is gonna be filled with romance and deep love for one another.

Kuai wants a boy. He, like Kenshi, wants the older son and younger daughter dynamic, but for no particular reason. He just likes it. His feelings wouldn't change if your first kid was a girl though, the older daughter younger son dynamic would remind him of how his mother treated Tomas when they were kids before she passed.

a/n: as a mf who doesn't even want kids, this was so fun and cute to write omg😭ty anon for the idea! remember y'all my asks are open and i'd be down to do x or 11 if you want! just clarify pls <3

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b0nten · 4 months

Text

BLUEBELLS, MINE ONLY.

[SYNOPSIS] ˚⁀➷｡ albeit rarely, rindou overthinks, but then he just stops and doesn’t think at all.

[NOTES] ˚⁀➷｡ i hope you guys like this!! part 2 for BLUEBELLS, YOURS TRULY. had such a fun time writing this and it’s just a lil goofy fic for lil goofy rindou and my lil goofy rindou enjoyers i love every one of yall!!!!

[MENTIONS] ˚⁀➷｡ reader smokes (she lights one cigarette), got inspired by jjk at one point but i’m not spoiling you, just pure chaoticness tbh

you can’t remember the last time you’ve been so excited. maybe when you got your scholarship? or when rindou asked you to be his girlfriend? who knows, but right now, you feel like you’re about to explode. you try to ignore ran’s messages, acting all offended he didn’t know you had to leave, but even when reading them, you can’t help but giggle and laugh and think about your oh-so-perfect plan.

“what’s taking him so long, though?” you wonder, and light a small candle. it’s grapefruit, and ran gifted you, blabbering on about how citrus makes the kitchen fresher. in boredom, you also slip a cigarette out of the pack, and put it between your lips, gently biting down the filter. the sweet taste of the watermelon spreads across the cellulose and you set the tobacco ablaze. “he better move quickly”.

meanwhile, rindou curses with every small push he’s subjected to. of course roppongi station is packed right when he needs to get somewhere fast. and not only that, but he also fucking lost the last last metro because he had no way to push himself into the wagon. fuck the hibiya line, fuck the salarymen and fuck everyone: now he’s gonna smell like sweat while he pleads with you not to break up with him.

“next station, ebisu. please disembark on the right side.”

one more to stop. next one’s his. he’s so ready for this, so so so ready. he’s got his little speech all planned out in his notes app, and he knows it by heart already. you’re not getting away and he’s gonna make you stay. he feels the adrenaline rushing through his veins. he-

a loud noise, light shake of the train and the lights suddenly shutting startle him from his reverie as he hears some belongings drop. god, he can hear that annoying sound even with stuffy ears.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding me.” next, the sentence he’s been hoping not to hear echoes through the speakers.

we are terribly sorry to announce that the hibyia line is currently out of order due to technical difficulties. please stand by while we repair the train.

impossible. no, not today. please, god, let him do this one thing right. he can’t fuck this up today, have mercy on him. this one time only.

rindou exits the wagon, fingertips massaging at his forehead. he thinks positively, thinks wishfully, thinks pink and does calming exercises until, soon enough, he can no longer do so. so, him being him, being the youngest haitani, being impulsive, being the scare of roppongi and being rindou haitani, he just heads straight for the exit. once out, he bolts, and doesn’t look back: faster than in his extreme juvenile days, he runs so fast he makes the first 10-minute stretch in five. he doesn’t care for the people he pushes past, the ones that shoot him disapproving looks from the sidelines — he’s running the olympics — and he’s not about to give up. his medal’s just a little jog across the meguro river, that’s what he keeps repeating to himself.

and slowly, but for what feels like an eternity to him, but surely, he begins to recognize his surroundings — from the family mart around the yamate tunnel to the school support center — he sees them and starts to run faster. he reaches nakameguro in record time, and heads from the station straight to your apartment. he doesn’t care for the sunny weather or the overbearing heat or the nice surroundings that he always walks you home along, his goal is set straight.

he prays his legs won’t pass out on the way to 4-chome, where your apartment building resides, and pushes past everyone yet again. had someone looked at him attentively, they’d think he was some maniac running around to get his long-overdue heroin fix. ah, the duality of tokyo.

when he sees the familiar build, he sighs. “number 32, not really tall, grey, and large balconies full of greenery” he still quotes the text message you sent him, every single time he visits. it almost became a mantra these last years and it didn’t help that it all looks exactly the same, nothing having changed these last three years.

“haitani-kun! are you visiting y/n?” a familiar voice spooks him from behind. “oh, i’m sorry! did i startle you?”

turning around, he recognizes the owner of the voice.

“hasegawa-san! nice to see you!” he bows, and the little old lady just laughs. “yes, i am visiting y/n. how are you?”

smiling proudly at her correct guess, she signals him to the entrance. “i was out on a walk! but here, let me get you in.” scanning the magnet against the receptor, a small light flickers green and a mechanism does its thing behind the white plastic. rindou pushes the door with ease, allowing your neighbor to go in first.

“you don’t have to wait for me, i know that look when i see it.”

chizuru hasegawa. gosh, does he love that woman. she’s been your neighbor ever since you moved to 4-chome from your old apartment after a gas leak forced you out, and she’s been nothing but sweet and caring. she took care of you when rindou couldn’t: taught you how to cook (better), brought you meals during finals when you were not leaving your apartment because you had to study, helped you with commentaries for literature (rindou just sat there and listened, he liked reading soseki with you, but writing essays was too much for him) and overall acted like a sweet grandmother, ready to share advice with you whenever she saw something was bothering you during afternoon tea sessions on her balcony. hasegawa cared and still cares cautiously for the person he loves most, so he can’t help but love her too.

she was also a mistery. the wisest and most well-read person he’d ever come across, and he was sure there’s probably few to no other people that came close to her power of knowledge.

“look at me, rindou.” her voice is the same soft-spoken tune he knew, but it was still somehow threatening. almost like ran’s when he says “i’m not gonna be nice the second time around.”

“yes.” he gulps, and awaits for her next words.

“you look stressed, you think she’s gonna break up with you, don’t you?”he nods, “but you know she loves you too. and there’s no other person on this earth that y/n wants to spend her life with.”

a knot builds up in his stomach, and it’s like the reassurance he needed so badly for the last two weeks finally gives him closure. but still, how did she figure it out in … less than five minutes?!

“rindou, ” chizuru softly speaks again. “let me see the other ring.” once she points to the piece of jewelry, the boy’s eyes widen in disbelief and he clutches his necklace. shortly after, he rummages through his sweatpants’ pockets.

left, right, left, right, left, right.

with every vain grasp he feels his heart-pace quicken and the sweat forming beads everywhere on his forehead.

left, right, left, right, left, right.

“no, no, no way…” he touches every part of his body, trying to make sure he didn’t accidentally put the ring somewhere else, but when he reaches the verdict that yes, he’s probably lost it while he was running over here, his heart shatters and he is disappointed in himself.

head lowering and salt-water lining his waterline, he covers his face in frustration. it’s like the world fell on his back and now it refuses to get off.

“you’ve made this so much easier for me!” she laughs and rindou’s face drops lower than before. hasegawa reaches into her hand-bag and takes out a small, red, velvet box. when she opens it, rindou’s mouth somehow falls agape yet again.

it’s two rings, they’re insanely beautiful, only they seem to be inside out — the inner parts have intricate kanji engraved all upon them, adorned with a few beautiful stones, leveled nicely into the metal, while the outside is simple, brass, still shiny albeit obvious years of not being worn or cared for at all.

“you know, i once had someone like you.” the old woman sighs, “when i was young, i met a very nice boy. and to make a long story short, i lost him due to some unfortunate circumstances.” she pauses before speaking again, “y/n is the daughter i never had, and when i look at her and then look at you, i see us. me and.. the first boy i fell in love with.”

a shiver runs down his spine, hoping she still continues the story.

“you see, rindou… evil spirits are more than evil, they’re malefic, to put it nicely.” the boy tilts his head to the right. “they’re like a pest, only they don’t really die. they’re always gonna be around. tell me, you haven’t been sleeping, right?”

“yeah.”

“and for two weeks, wow, that’s a lot.”

he thinks he’s dreaming. what is happening?

“and you feel like your ears are blocked, am i right?” he nods again, “and if i may guess correctly, you either have dreams of someone smashing your head, or y/n’s. and you wake up with a roaring headache. aaaand.. a lot of intrusive thoughts?”

“hasegawa-san, how do you know all that?”

“change out the ring with this one.” she instructs and rindou, though sheepishly, slides his golden ring off the chain and replaces it with the other.

“why.. ” he looks at the woman, “why did my ears unstuff?”

she simply laughs, and swats her palm around in the air. “i’ll tell you when you’re older. now, go.” she puts the box in his right hand and gently folds his left one over it.

he looks at her with eyes full of hope. whatever the hell is up with this woman, he doesn’t know. and frankly, he doesn’t want to. for the first time ever, he feels somewhat scared of a person who has no way of tackling him in a fight.

she nods, and that’s rindou’s signal to sprint up the stairs. luckily the building isn’t tall, so the fifth floor — the one you live on — is just a few skips of stairs away.

when he reaches the door, he knocks. not once, not twice, tens of times, like he’s a broken machine.

“rin!” you greet him, “ho-”

“marry me.” he’s not asking you.

your jaw hits the floor. he’s just as surprised, why should he lie to himself?

“marry me, y/n.” clumsily, he gets down on one knee and opens the box. your hands cover your mouth once you see the ring. “i don’t care if you want to break up with me for the time you’re going back home, i don’t care if you want to break up with me because of some other reason, because i don’t want to. it doesn’t have to be this year, or next or the next three or five. whenever you want is fine. just—”

“of course i’m not breaking up with you, you dumbass!” you exclaim, offended. you look to the side, cheeks flushed and smile begging to rip your cheeks apart, “yes.”

“w-what?” rindou stutters. he couldn’t even comprehend that he’s asked you to marry him, yet alone that you’ve said yes.

“oh my god, get up already!” you pull him up by his shirt, and then down, close to your face. “yes, i’m gonna marry you. i don’t know for sure if this year, or next or in three or in five, but i’ll definitely marry you.” you parrot his little speech, giddy and delighted.

he takes the ring out of the box, and slides it on your finger. then, CRASH. his lips come down on yours mindlessly, and he holds your entire body so close to his, as if you’d fall apart into a million shards and disappear any minute now. and his head feels lighter and he guesses that whatever hasegawa may have done with those rings, they’re also probably gonna make his nightmares go away too.

“you’re coming with me.” you break the kiss to make space for announcement.

“what?” rindou malfunctions, “you weren’t gonna break up with me?”

“no, rin. i just wanted to get you pumped but that took a very wrong turn, apparently. you’re coming home with me, this summer.”

oh, bless his little heart.

🏷️ taglist @sirachano0dles @idktbhloley thank you for reading <3

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mediumgayitalian · 2 months

Text

fic rec friday 6

hi!! welcome to fic rec friday. every week, i pick five fics i have bookmarked and rec them with a little review. check them out!

Will and Nico Sitting in a Tree by percyspandapillowpet

Nico rolls his eyes. “Can’t believe I used to have a crush on that guy,” he mumbles, and then immediately covers his mouth. Oh gods. “What—what?” Will asks. “You what?” Nico turns away, burying his face in his hands. “I—I said that out loud, didn’t I?”

this one made me giggle oblivious nico always does. "Like absolutely clueless sons of Hades" yes you tell him will!! will is such a brat w the biggest eyeroll problem in the world i adore him. i know he has literally strained his ocular muscles before

2. (Im)perfect by percysandapillowpet

He was thankful his suit was black, because he was starting to sweat through it. His stomach wasn’t holding up well, either. He hadn’t eaten anything in hours, but he felt like he was going to throw up any second. He stood in the bathroom still, now holding a wet cloth to his forehead. His hand was shaking, causing the water to drip down his sleeve. Why was he so nervous?

i am weak for proposal fics and have been my whole life. 'marriage is an instituation' blah blah blah. its FUN. i LIKE READING IT. and this was CUTE AS HELL. the namebadge especially was the cutest ever touch truly

3. As Long as I'm Getting Paid by percyspandapillowpet

Nico raised his eyebrows, using his shoulder to hold the door open. “Hi. What do you want.” Will smiled, but he shifted his feet. “Can’t a friend just stop by and say hi?” “No,” Nico replied. He then moved to close the door and retreat back into his cabin, but Will lunged forward and caught it. “Wait!”

walking up the scary badass to kill the spider will never not be funny. like yes of course befriending the most dramatic kids in camp will have dire consequences for nico and those consequences will involve waking up at odd hours in the night to do the Dumbest thing possible ever

4. Two Boys, Being Straight, Doing Straight Things by percyspandapillowpet

“Remember, dessert makes her sleepy. She’ll be out by seven-thirty, and we’ll have the rest of the evening to ourselves.” “Fair point,” Ms. Solace says, handing Will and Nico each a pie wrapped in tinfoil. “We can probably hold out til then.” Will glances at the clock above the stove. “One more hour.” He glances at Nico with a grin. “And then we can be gay again.”

i love this fckn series i have to have read it like fourteen times. i love seeing them gay and older and disastrous. and this whole concept of having to pretend to be straight for wills dumbass homophobic grandma will never not be funny

5. Even If It's Forever by @wintersky101

Nico doesn’t like to be touched. Will respects that, of course, even though he’s got a lot of hugs he wants to give him. Sometimes, though, Nico doesn’t mind, and those are some of the moments Will likes best. Or, five times Will didn’t touch his boyfriend, and one time he did.

this was such a soft and wonderful character study. the soft slow build and determined communication...yeah this fic was written with such care and you can tell

thank you for joining me this friday!! happy reading!!

#sorry that im so so late omg #i have no excuse except i was entrenched in character charts again #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #hoo #heroes of olympus #side note im watching house & like....how do people who work closely together every day not fall deeply in love w each other #pjo hoo toa #will solace #nico di angelo #nico di angelo & will solace #nico di angelo/will solace #solangelo #secret relationship #fic rec #fic rec friday #longpost

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spearhoney · 4 months

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⚠️ smut underneath ⚠️

Note: I'm into chan lately and it's clearly his fault so here you go ;)

"Do you like it? Does it hurt?"

You shook your head as a response as you were busy holding in the moans from escaping your mouth. You can't broke the one and only rule that Changbin has already set up for you only for this night.

"Only moan when I'm the one who fuck you, okay?"

At first, you thought it would just be like a piece of cake as the only dick that have given you tons of pleasure was Changbin's, so you don't put a high expectation on Chan's.

But it turns out that his was bigger than your boyfriend's.

"Are you fucking kidding me, Bin? Just lemme hear those beautiful sounds from her!" Chan yelled at Changbin who was jerking himself at the corner of room with his eyes fixed on you. He gave Chan an evil grin.

"Oh you wanna listen to it? Alright, my turn then." He stood up from the chair and went straight to the drenched king-sized bed. Chan really knows how to play with your pussy; literally came twice with just the touch of his majestic fingers.

Chan groaned and left you edging on the bed, sweats were drooling down your face, on your whole body. As Changbin hovered over you, a loud needy whine came from your mouth while moving your hips near to his tip; tears started to fall down as you really need to reach the climax where Chan left it hanging.

Slowly, Changbin slide his length in and you can't help but let out the most beautiful sound that Chan have ever heard. With each thrust, a moan escaped your mouth which you definitely wouldn't held them in again. Changbin gave Chan a glance, showing off how good he could make you feel and Chan just gave him a straight middle finger.

"Binnie, I'm so close", you said in between the moans while clenching your walls around him, causing him to groan in pleasure. Suddenly, Chan approached from behind and pushed Changbin away, left you to clench on nothing but air. Changbin looked at him in surprise.

"Sorry mate but I can't let you do this to me, not this time." Then he filled you up again, stretching you wider than Changbin did and thrust you harder than before. Your mind became totally blank to think at the moment and just wrapped your hands and legs around Chan's neck and waist while screaming at the rough pleasure. Deep down, you already know that you would literally get punish for breaking this rule but oh god, you've never experienced sex as good as this.

After a few more hard thrust, Chan's dick was completely covered with your liquid. Your body was shaking vigorously, something that even Changbin couldn't do. Changbin just stared at you in disbelief. Chan was breathing heavily while peppering soft kisses on your face and your neck, slowly pulling him out and laid on the bed, smiling proudly after what he just achieved.

"Oh my god, that was heaven. I think I need to write a song about this." Chan laughed while closing his eyes, showing his dimples on both of his cheeks.

You was breathing heavily while your eyes were wandering around the room until you landed on those sharp eagle eyes of Changbin. His dark gaze, filled with wrath and jealousy really went through you as if an arrow pierced through your heart. You felt like your heart stopped beating for once when you heard his voice for the next second.

"Guess I shouldn't be nice to you anymore since you like it rough hm?"

#changbin #skz #skz changbin #stray kids #changbin smut #hehehe #spearhoney #changbin x reader #binchan #bang chan #skz channie #chan smut #i love them

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lale-txt · 2 years

Text

♡ taking care of them when they have a fever ➳ w/ Kid, Mihawk & Rayleigh

a/n: i… i fought Tumblr text editor so long and hard for this and it‘s still a mess oh my god. anyway enjoy those silly little headcanons, i love putting those lads into ✨situations✨

Kid

simply the worst patient you can ever imagine <3

when falling sick, he goes through the five stages of grief several times a day

denial: „i am not sick, what the fuck are you talking about“, he asks with a runny nose and face almost as bright red as his hair, beads of sweat running down his temples, barely able to stand up straight

Killer and you just exchange a look and brace yourself for what‘s coming next

anger: ever saw a tulip explode? now you will

don‘t mind the claw marks on the ground when Killer drags Kid by one leg to bed while the captain combusts and grunts out curses you‘ve never heard before

lots of shouting and yelling and middle fingers being raised with the last bit of energy he has left before you watch Killer pull out some wrestling moves to get the tulip into bed. it‘s like watching two grizzlies fight

feel free to join but be prepared to get bitten in the ass

bargaining: so Kid is in bed, blanket pulled up to his nose, breathing heavily

it‘s when it all sinks in. the realization that maybe he should have covered up those honkers when visiting that winter island. Kid was a South Blue child after all, not used to the cold

don‘t disturb him during that phase, just enjoy the silence while he ponders on every life choice he made that led him here

depression: that‘s when he will call you and the other crew members into his cabin one by one despite you telling him he‘ll just spread his germs that way, but Kid doesn‘t care. he feels like he‘s dying from that common cold and he needs to tell everyone his last words

don‘t flinch when he clutches his metal fist around your hand and rattles something about how he doesn‘t mind when you fall in love again after he dies, but preferably with Killer because then he‘ll know from heaven (or hell) that you‘re in good hands (followed by an hour long monologue on why Killer is the greatest man ever existing)

acceptance: so Kid realized he might not die today but his throat is still sore and all the yelling probably didn‘t make it any better

bring him some tea, tuck him in and kiss his forehead, he‘ll pass out in a minute and the whole thing will repeat a few more times on his way to recovery

Kid is gonna act like none of this has happened once he is back to his old self but he‘ll still make sure to pull you into a hug and mumble a Thank You against your skin, followed by making up for all the kisses he couldn‘t give you during that time

Mihawk

have you ever tried giving your pet any kind of medicine? it was bad, wasn‘t it? then good luck with this man because he is worse

it‘s hard to imagine that someone as perfect as Mihawk could fall sick with a fever, but here you are, standing with a glass of water and painkillers in your hands next to him while he‘s passed out on the couch

„get those away from me“, he mumbles like a dying peasant who is confronted with his own mortality in the face of a common cold

even with his strength being robbed he is still much stronger than you, using this fact to his advantage (by rolling over flat on his stomach, face down, so you can‘t hold the glass of water against his lips)

give him five minutes for some frustrated groaning until he admits his defeat and finally reaches for the things in your hands

brace yourself for a silent staring duel when he asks for a glass of red wine to wash down the painkillers

he‘s lucky that you‘re in love so madly and deeply with him and have all the patience in the world to bear with him, knowing well he would pamper you too if you ever fell sick (you remembered how he pulled out a whole first aid kit as if he was ready to perform emergency surgery when you cut your finger slightly once while cooking together)

Mihawk would hate the fact that you see him in such a weak state but deep down he is still happy to have you by his side during his darkest hours

he‘ll have a few fever dreams and will be startled, probably panting something about his crops and how he gotta look after them

just gently push him back down by his shoulders and calm him down by telling him that you watered the garden and that the tomatoes are looking plump and ripe and ready for harvesting once he‘s back to full health

he‘ll ask you to read him from his favorite romance novels before he drifts back to sleep

Mihawk will cook you the fanciest dinner to show you his gratitude for nursing him back to health, including the most expensive bottle of red wine and kitchen dances together

Rayleigh

„you‘re burning up, Ray.“

you look at him worried, hands on his cheek and forehead to feel his temperature

Rayleigh just sighs, pushes his glasses up his hair, pinches the bridge of his nose and accepts his defeat

the Dark King knows that there‘s a limit on how much you can push a sick body and that the only cure is rest

after all, he had watched Roger struggle during his illness when no one else was watching; it made him realize that every action has its toll and us humans are fragile little things

he will do his best to not make you worry, after everything he‘s been through at his age a simple cold won‘t take him out

sure, he will try to send you home so he doesn‘t pass on the fever to you, but you insist on staying by his side — after all it was „in sickness and in health“ what you vowed to

a fact that earns you a lot of forehead kisses and the inevitable fate that you‘ll be down with a fever as well a few days later (where Rayleigh will take care of you as well, of course)

he is an easy patient on his best behaviour, drinking up the tea you brewed for him and staying in bed with the newspaper and some card games (since he can‘t go gambling)

Rayleigh will hum and lean deep into your touch when you run him a bath and wash his hair, your fingers massaging every bit of tension out of him

knowing you can‘t resist his charm he‘ll ask you to join him in the bath tub. just do it. the old man is needy and a little cold won‘t stop him from using his hands to return a little favor…

Rayleigh is a restless man, never one for settling down completely or staying in one place for too long, but those days in bed together are surprisingly nice and help him to recover quickly, thanks to your committed care

countless kisses on your skin show you his gratitude and blur the line between heat and fever…

#eustass kid x reader #mihawk x reader #rayleigh x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x you #eustass kid #dracule mihawk #silvers rayleigh #dracule mihawk x reader #silvers rayleigh x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece fluff #one piece reader insert

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running-with-the-feels · 4 months

Note

any drunk headcanons??? who drinks more/less, who’s the lightweight, high tolerance, doesn’t drink at all, ended up making out etc.

ohohoho do I have IDEAS for this one

This list is just for the defenders (plus Bi-Han bc he will never be a villain in my eyes) but I can make another for the antagonists and Kombat Kids if y'all want

Johnny: This man can and will outdrink god without breaking a sweat. It takes a lot to get him drunk but once you do, hoo boy does he get wild. He will flirt with anyone and anything he can and more often than not succeeds in seducing whoever he has set his sights on (he even managed to bag Fujin once)

Sonya: Knows her limits and has no desire to test them, she'll drink if the occasion calls for it, but never more than a few beers.

Jax: Like Sonya, also just doesn't drink all that much as he doesn't really get the appeal. He did once get drunk and serenade the entirety of the special forces with a full rendition of Wicked in it's entirety. Sonya got it on video and it is one of her most treasured possessions

Kung Lao: Cannot hold his liquor, talks a big game but is a massive lightweight. He's also a tactile drunk, he wants to hug and be hugged all the time. Once, he even sat on Liu Kang's lap for five hours straight. Has drunkenly made out with Johnny cage more than once.

Raiden: Cannot get drunk and refuses to try.

Liu Kang: Massive lightweight, even worse than Kung Lao. Three shots in and he's giggling on the floor. He and Kung Lao have kissed while drunk before, but it was less a drunken making out thing and more an impulsive "I want my first kiss to be with someone I trust" thing. They didn't talk about it afterwards

Kitana: Like Johnny, could outdrink anyone. In fact, the two once had a drinking competition that did not end until they were both in the hospital from alcohol poisoning. To this day they have no idea who the winner was and it is the only reason Kitana respects him

Jade: Can hold her liquor, but honestly prefers to avoid it. She likes to keep her wits about her, years of training as a bodyguard don't fade.

Kuai Liang: This man has the tolerance of a wet paper bag, and once scared the shit out of a bunch of SF recruits bc he and Johnny got drunk on base and it was the only time any of them had heard him laugh. Kuai Liang is a talkative drunk too, he will say anything and everything that pops into his head with no remorse and then forget about it the next morning. He did once make out with Johnny Cage in a closet while they were both shitfaced and another time he spent the entire night curled around Hanzo's back like a spider monkey.

Hanzo: drinks on occasion but not often so his tolerance is decent but not phenomenal. Tends to smile more when drunk and generally be more relaxed, but also rarely gets any further than tipsy. Usually, he tasks himself with keeping Kuai Liang out of trouble on the occasions they both decide to indulge, leading to him being subject to Kuai Liang's playful flirting for the whole night. Poor man is struggling to keep it together and not drag the cryomancer off to a closet of their own.

Bi-Han: used to be a total lightweight until he started drinking with Sareena and now he can down moonshine without blinking. He does tend to wax poetic about Sareena when drunk and also made out with Johnny Cage in a closet while drunk (bc honestly, who hasn't at this point?) and when he told Sareena she just nodded, downed a shot, and went to find Johnny for her turn. The three started dating not long after that

Sareena: Drinks a lot, and yet somehow her tolerance never improves, so she ends up giggling and stumbling fairly quickly. She also has a tendency to sing while drunk

Fujin: Cannot get drunk either (god thing) but he keeps trying different beverages when offered bc he's too polite to turn them down. Has made out with a tipsy Johnny Cage in the middle of one of his parties.

Nightwolf: Does not drink and despises the idea of doing so, though he won't tell anyone why. He and Fujin tend to keep each other company as the rest of the defenders get shitfaced, basically babysitting them.

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syrupfog · 15 days

Text

The first time Penguin sees him, it’s in the auction house at Sabaody, standing on the opposite side of the room. He’s hard to miss; tall and imposing, a mess of blond hair and a LOUD polka dot shirt.

He leans over to Shachi. “Does this boiler suit make me look cool?”

Shachi smacks him upside the head. “No,” he says. “Stop making eyes at the enemy.”

“He can’t even SEE my eyes,” Penguin sulks.

The second time Penguin sees him, it’s in Wano. And it’s, like, a whole thing. There’s a lot going on, and Penguin’s a bit BUSY, honestly, he’s got some other things to deal with.

But he notices that the guy’s, like, seriously bulked up. It would be hard not to notice, really.

Penguin flexes his own muscles. He can’t see much of any change. Especially under the boiler suit.

Shachi squints at him. “What’s wrong with you?” He asks.

Penguin smacks him. “Shut up,” he says. “And give me those binoculars back.”

The THIRD time Penguin sees him, things are a bit different.

And by a bit different, he means “SHIT SHIT SHIT FUCK SHIT WHERE DID BEPO GO? SHACHI— FUCK WHERE IS SHACHI—“

It’s HOT on this island, boiler suit stripped down and tied around his waist and Penguin is still sweating buckets as he runs down alleys and side streets with the sun beating down on his back. There’s only about twelve people running behind him, yelling angry-sounding things that Penguin doesn’t bother deciphering because WHERE THE FUCK IS EVERYONE?

The bundle in his arms isn’t helping the heat stroke quickly approaching either. He’s gonna need Law to give him a rehydrating IV or something after this and then he’s going to be in trouble for wasting resources.

Racing around a corner leads him to a crowded market street — a good sign, maybe he can get lost between the stalls. Or maybe not— the angry mob behind him seems to be gaining and they’re yelling honestly very rude things. WHERE the FUCK are his CREW—

That’s when he sees him. HOW they ended up on the same island is a mystery, but—

“Hey! Oi!” Penguin yells, making a beeline straight for him.

Killer, of the Kid pirates, is at a stall perusing mangos. He looks up, blue and white stripes zeroing in on Penguin. GOD the guy has some wide shoulders.

“Yeah, you!!” Penguin yells. “Offense or Defence??”

“Uhhhhhhh,” Killer says, tilting his head. Very calm for a guy who MUST see the mob behind Penguin. “Depends on the game.”

“Now!!” Penguin shouts, getting within throwing distance. He can practically SEE the question marks popping above Killer’s head.

“…Defense?”

“Then CATCH”

Penguin throws the bundle at him and turns on a heel, skidding into place mere feet in front of Killer and facing down the approaching mob. He sticks his hands deep into the pockets of the boiler suit and draws out two brass knuckles, because god these outfits are NOT good for hiding larger weapons in.

“Uhhhhh,” says Killer behind him, voice echoey under the helmet. “Maybe I should be offence, actually.”

“TOO LATE,” Penguin yells, charging toward the mob that has been quickly thrown into confusion now that their target has turned around.

Honestly, there’s not even any burning pitchforks or anything. It’s just a dozen or so citizens with sticks up their asses (and in their hands), and Penguin, well, he’s had to fight Clione for the last ice cream bar.

He comes away with one nasty scrape to the cheek and a bunch of blood splatters on his outfit that Law will enjoy testing for STDs. When he finally shoves the brass knuckles back in his pockets, he turns around to find Killer still standing in front of the mango stall (although the seller has long since run for it)

And the bundle squirming around in his hands.

“You good?” Killer asks.

“Are you holding her upside down?” Penguin asks.

Killer looks down at the bundle in his arms. He flips it over, and the squirming stops. A head pops out. A small child with an unnervingly large mouth full of triangular teeth, and a head of shockingly blond hair in two messy tails, is looking bright eyed at Penguin.

Penguin gives the small child a thumbs up.

She giggles, showing off her many unnerving teeth. There’s a second set behind the first.

“So,” says Killer, conversationally. “She yours?”

“Oh god no,” Penguin says. “Found her chowing down on some offering to a local god and the townspeople were getting all angry at her.” He walks over, picking up a mango and holding it up to her. She neatly bites through half.

“Cool,” says Killer.

“You got parents, kid?” Penguin asks.

The small child shakes her head, mango juice dripping from her mouth.

Penguin frowns. “Family?”

The small child shakes her head again. She doesn’t seem sad. She probably didn’t know them.

“Aww,” says Killer. Penguin looks up at him. He’s oddly expressive for a man in a helmet.

A chill runs up his spine, though, and he turns away, recognizing the feeling of conquerors haki. Sure enough, the captain of the Kid pirates is walking through the center of the now deserted market street.

“Killer!” He yells, stalking over to them and ignoring Penguin entirely. That’s fair. Penguin likes it that way. “What’d you fucking do??”

Killer tilts his head. With both hands he holds up the fishchild. “Got a baby,” he says brightly.

Kid blinks at the child. “What the fuck,” he says.

Killer lowers the child and then points with one hand at Penguin. “His baby,” he says.

“Well,” Penguin hedges.

“What the fuck,” says Kid.

“I’m keeping it,” says Killer.

“Her,” says Penguin.

“That makes you a grandpa,” says Killer.

“FUCK no it doesn’t,” shouts Kid.

The child laughs.

“You can’t have a BABY with the ENEMY,” Kid yells.

“Well,” says Penguin.

“You can’t tell me what to do, Mom.”

“Fuck you,” spits Kid.

“She has her father’s eyes,” says Killer.

Penguin’s not sure which of them is supposed to be the father.

“My hair, though.”

Ah, Penguin is the father.

“We’ll have to work out custody agreements,” Killer continues.

“I’d like a date first,” Penguin says

Honestly it’s fitting that that’s the first full sentence he gets out, somehow.

“You can’t date my second in command!” Kid yells.

“I mean, we have a kid together,” Killer points out. “You’re a bit late.”

Penguin is halfway to a genius response of some kind when he sees blue light wash over them. It’s all he can do to mime “call me” at Killer before he’s shambled back to the ship.

“You’re late,” Law tells him.

“I’m an unwed mother now I think,” Penguin says.

Law sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I don’t want to know.

#kilguin #kilpen #penguin one piece #killer one piece #my writing

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