Tumgik
#in order to help pull him back up
eddiebuckley-diaz · 1 year
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The fact that Eddie questioned whether they should be congratulating Buck in this and not having anything else to say is so so loud.
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eternal-brainrot · 6 months
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Broke my streak of not crying at work lol B)
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aria0fgold · 19 days
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Okay like, I think it'd be too long to put in the tags of the last post so I'm making my own post but ngl that method helped me A LOT. It helped me unlearn So Much stuff by having that first thought, interrogating it, and replacing it. Cuz way back, the thing I'd do is have the first thought, hate myself for it, never try to have it again which isn't helpful At All. And then I reached a point in my life where it was like, have the first thought, avoid it, which is just as worse.
And then last year, when I realized A Lot of stuff bout me, I had to work on unlearning so much during then and like okay, this is like treading the territory of "you gotta be unwell a lil bit to heal" typa thing, like imagining your favourite characters Right There. But mine is like, a lil to the left. Cuz when I realized all the stuff I gotta unlearn, there wasn't any character from a media that can count for that just yet (I got hyperfixated on Cain months after the realization but if I've known him earlier he would've ngl took on the patron saint role in my life of unlearning unhealthy stuff)
So what I did was... used an OC. It wasn't Alec and Ray surprisingly enough cuz in my head they have their own lives and it was a lil harder for me to put them in that role. And it just so happens I have One OC that is specifically made with an awareness that makes it seem like he's a self-insert but not really. It's Alerik. The designated creator of the universe that is practically aware of the truth behind that universe and his own existence so it was easier to pull him. And it worked.
Cuz whenever I do the have first thought, interrogate it, replace it thing, I can't get it right in a way that when I think of interrogating Myself, my brain's immediate reaction is always "hatred" so then when I got Alerik to do the interrogation, my brain couldn't react immediately cuz it isn't just Me, there's Alerik now and he's both me and not at the same time, he's a piece of me. That I love. So my brain couldn't react with "hatred" towards a character I made with love, it worked. I could interrogate myself, figure out "why" I reacted the way I did, "why" I had that first thought, and what I could do moving forward without hating myself or avoiding anything. And I love it. Cuz after a year of just that, slow and steady, I managed to unlearn most of the bad habits and get rid of the self-hate. I love myself now! And the world! And everything just seems so much beautiful this way.
#aria rants#yall rlly just be insane in a way that you gotta pull a character to help with your healing and unlearning of unhealthy stuff#it just so happens that i did it a lil to the left but it still worked! it ngl only works on alerik cuz it comes easy for him somehow#like i dont have to concentrate or focus or anything. if i had smth i need help with in regards to myself he'd just pop up#i still do it from time to time cuz improvement doesnt just happen once! but i dont do it as frequently which is a good thing i think#like whenever i catch myself thinking really negatively im like: whoa there. alerik cmere cmere#and i just give myself a few minutes of silence of figure stuff out. also kinda funny how in order for me to silence my brain's#habit of self-hate. i had to trick it by pulling a character i love in front like a shield just to stop that one habit#like as much as i hated myself back then. all the ocs i made are made out of love. it was where i redirected my love to#so the thought of hating my own characters never rlly crossed my mind at all. even the ''villain'' ones. so my brain couldnt#redirect the hatred meant for Me towards a character i made with a love that i specifically directed to when i couldnt direct it to myself#ya need a lil bit of trickery to get by the habits that your brain has been trained by. continuously. and then someday.#all those bad habits will slowly go away. may not even be permanently but itll be okay! itll come back and leave but it wont stay
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vodka-and-ocs · 2 years
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the ranger had another stupid idea
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chuluoyi · 1 month
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✎ wedding anniversary
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- gojo satoru x reader
seven years of dating, two years of wedded bliss, and gojo is having his greatest existential crisis yet... all because this year, you apparently have forgotten the most important day of your lives
genre: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—heavy smut, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex, slight breeding kink, crack, drunk, lovesick and possessive gojo (nanami is so very done with him), also fluff !!
note: back to chu's thirsting hour :') based on a fellow gojo fucker's very helpful brainrot (chiyo if you see this, hii!😗) pls give it some love bc this has gone through not showing up in the tags 5x already *sobs*
a part of gojo's love entries
series masterlist | oneshot masterlist
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To this day, it was still beyond Nanami why you, his very sensible former classmate, would have Gojo Satoru as your husband.
“She... doesn't—hic!—care about m-me... anymore!”
But well, to each their own.
“Gojo—”
“Today is our—hic!—anniversary!”
This is exhausting. It had been 30 minutes ever since the blindfolded shithead started rambling his sorrows. “She is probably just busy, you don't have to—”
“I r-really thought—hic!—she would at least n-not forget it l-like that!”
“Please, stop this nonse—”
Satoru snapped his head so swiftly that Nanami was startled, pointing out an accusatory finger at his face. “You stop!—you don't understand, Nanami!”
The said man flinched, taken aback, before feeling the surge of irritation coursing through his veins.
Sure, Nanami would gladly admit that he didn't understand. He neither had the time nor energy to. It was beyond him that he was even entertaining this blubbering idiot at this time of the day, in a bar no less. How did he get roped into this in the first place?
Actually, he had minus interest in your marital affairs, but Gojo was latching onto him all day, rambling about how excited he was for this day for weeks now, until you gave him a call, saying you would be home late and disregarded his very open anticipation. You broke his heart to pieces, apparently.
Amidst his heartbroken musings, Gojo followed him to his frequented bar, where he proceeded to down multiple glasses without any supervision.
“Am I really t-that lousy? Can’t be it… I’m s-strong, d-dashing… rich—”
Nanami released a guttural sigh, messaging his temples. How could this idiot have no shame while spouting all of this?
“Will s-she… divorce me next…?” he abruptly blurted, eyes widening as saucers and full of clarity all of a sudden. Satoru firmly tugged at his suit and forced him to face him. “Nanamin…! S-she won’t divorce me, r-right?!”
Oh, to hell with it. Nanami couldn’t take this anymore. He was done and he had no patience to tolerate it any longer.
He shrugged him off, and pulled out his phone to dial your number. “Hello? Please, come pick your husband. He’s a public nuisance!”
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In fact, you didn’t forget your anniversary.
How could you? Satoru made it his point to drop hints about it almost every day, and you actually struggled to be indifferent about it because you also had things planned out.
A present—already taken care of thanks to your mail order of Rolex’s newest collection watch, and a treat—a two-tier mochi cake he had been staring at with literal stars in his eyes on your last date.
Which has become the problem. The bakery had mishandled your delivery and you had to wait for them to remake it. It was 8pm already and you couldn't help but worry. Satoru must be feeling utterly despondent by now, thinking you had forgotten a day that meant so much for both of you.
And so when you got a call from Nanami, you dropped everything to get him and told the bakery to arrange for the delivery tomorrow, because you knew... nothing good ever came out of Satoru getting drunk.
"I missed youuuu~! Dearest, darling— my universe!"
To Satoru, the everything around him was a blur of lights and hiccups when you came to retrieve him. Nanami was so eager to wash his hands off him, leaving you with a pointed grimace as if pitying you.
. . .
"A-are you going to—hic!—leave m-me?" Satoru slurred for the nth time now, stumbling inside your house with you propping him.
"For the last time, no, but I'm tempted to," you hissed, throwing him a glare. Your husband was a very unpleasant drunk because he wasn't even a drinker in the first place. "Satoru—walk properly!"
You managed to get him into your bedroom, where Satoru flopped onto the bed, dissolving into groans. You exhaled deeply and plucked the buttons of his shirt open, trying to get him change into his sleepwear.
"Ah... haaah," suddenly he caught your hand and placed it on his bare chest, his eyes blazing into yours, rambling, "Sweetheart—please. I c-can't live without you now... I'm sorry—I'm sorry for anything, or everything, I don't even know but—please don't hate me—"
"Satoru..." Your eyes widened slightly in surprise. Why was he this spooked? "I'm not leaving you, okay?"
"I promise you, I'll do better—" his voice was watery, as if his throat was clogged up. "I'll be better..." His voice then reduced into a whisper. The alcohol had stripped away his facade, leaving his raw emotions exposed.
Something inside you lurched. Throughout the nine years you have been with him, Gojo Satoru was always irritatingly self-assured, and so seeing him like this— so openly fragile, it did more than just churn your insides; it made you realize the depth of his feelings.
In that moment, you knew your reassurance meant everything.
"I'm not going anywhere, yeah?" you placed your other hand over his, offering him a genuine, soft smile. “Satoru, I’ve put up with your ass for more than nine years. So…” you shifted your eyes away, suddenly feeling embarrassed, before looking at him again. “I'm here... for you, always.”
His grip on your hand loosened slightly, but the intensity in his gaze didn't wane, and you would've laughed when he hiccupped next if you weren't feeling the overwhelming warmth in your chest.
But oh you wouldn't have expected it, because one heartbeat later, he yanked you down to the bed— crashing his lips against yours.
“Mmmph!”
He tangled his nimble fingers on your hair, and his other hand slipped inside your blouse, unclasping your bra in one flick. You let out a gasp, "Satoru—! "
Before you could even gasp, in the next second, he flipped you over— seizing your puffy lips once more. His hands now moved with more urgency, squeezing your breasts rather roughly, flicking your nipples with the pads on his thumbs.
And soon, far sooner than you thought...
"Who else gets to see you like this?" Satoru inquired darkly after you were naked under him, his voice low and deep. He was no longer that stupid husband of yours, rather the wanton man of your nightly wonders.
Without warning, he slid one of his fingers into your folds, probing your walls, and a gasp escaped you as you arched your back, throwing your head back on the sheets.
"No— one," your voice came in a breathless moan, still reeling. "H-how can y-you ask me—" Stretching you out even further, he entered another finger and you wailed, "Mmgh!"
He had always loved the sounds you made and how you were so pretty squirming under him like this. And before you knew it, his face was inches from your cunt, blowing hot air into your sensitive flesh.
"Tell me, who is the only person who gets to see you like this?"
Your eyes rolled back, words died on your tongue as his skilled tongue ran down on your drenched pussy. You instinctively tried to close your legs around his head, but he firmly held them apart.
"You." Panting, your mind racing to form coherent thoughts. You managed to mutter, "Only you... No one else—hah—just y-you...!"
He suckled on your clit hungrily then, rewarding you for your honesty. Squelching noises echoed around your marital bed as your arousal pooled around his fingers— you being so incredibly, irrevocably close to your release.
"Haaah, ngh—mmph!—Satoru, I'm a-about to—!" but then, in one cruel twist, he withdrew his digits, and your pussy throbbed at the loss.
You muffled your whines, feeling betrayed and irritable. "What—why—!?"
"Don't think that I'll let you cum anywhere else but my cock," he stated gallantly with an unusually stern expression, blue eyes narrowing as he assessed your wetness. Right in front of your eyes, his cock sprung after he let it out of his pants.
"Soon, you'll feel me..." Your eyes shamelessly followed his long length as he placed it on your lower belly. "...there."
Everything about him using that taunting tone turned you on, and true to his words, he soon slid himself inside you. He let out a low grunt at the feeling of how your walls clenching around him and you whined, the pain of being stretched making you almost sob.
"Shit, hold still," Satoru groaned, pushing down on your belly. "You're so tight— relax for me a bit, sweetheart? You're doing so, so fucking well."
His words went through you, and you could feel yourself opening more to ease his intrusion. Next thing you knew, he was buried deep inside you, and his gaze met you once again.
"Are you okay?" he asked between breaths, voice softening. When you nodded in response, he planted a kiss on your chest.
"I love you," he said in a rasp, eyes piercing your soul. "I’ll give you anything. My body, heart, soul—you can have it all. In return, you just have to promise one thing." His eyes, now clearer, deprived of the earlier haze, boring straight into you like an arrow.
"Don't ever leave me."
"I won't," you replied resolutely, catching your breath. Your own eyes shone with your love for him, making it even. "For as long as I live, it's going to always be you."
Satoru gazed at you as if you were his skies and stars, and before he started pounding into you, he vowed—
"Then I'm yours."
And soon, you were a nothing more than a frenzy, hot mess. You couldn’t help the nasty moans flying out of your lips as he kept barreling into you. His grunts reverberated throughout the room, rutting you through your hazed mind.
And the way he was whispering provocations into your ear, pushing you further into ecstasy at the mere thought of—
"What if... I get you pregnant this time?" A thrust. "Just imagine—" Another. "My wife, all round—" Another. "—just because I—am doing this to her—!"
You were barely registering his rambles at this point. Your walls clenching around his girth impossibly tight and you let him claim you as his thoroughly, your legs locking around his waist.
"Ah—ngh, mmrgh! Satoru—more!"
This wasn't you, the usual you wouldn't be this daring— but even you'll be more than forgiven tonight.
Satoru's jaw tightened at the sheer pleasure you brought him, his ego stroked, and his heavenly eyes darkened as you begged and dug your nails into him. He was so close, he could feel it. Your moans was enough to lead him to cum right here and there.
But before that, he was determined to show you, to whom you truly belong.
“My wife.” He growled. A thrust.
“Mine.” You gasped. Harder.
“All mine.” Deeper.
"Yes," you cried. "Yours— all yours, so please—!"
And three deep thrusts later, Satoru finally busted his load inside you, spurts after spurts painting your wall white— filling you up so hard it was spilling out. And your orgasm followed in immediate effect along with your hitched screams of pleasure, before the two of you collapsed on each other, a mix of groans and sweat, entwined in cum, bliss and exhaustion.
"Love you, sweetheart," you heard him murmuring in your ears, enveloping you in a warm embrace as you drifted into sleep.
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Next morning, you were awoken to soft hums in your ears.
"Oh, the sleeping beauty awakens." The first sight you saw was Satoru's cheeky grin, and him pecking you on the lips. "How are you?"
"Mmm..." you winced, feeling the slight twinge between your legs. He noticed it and gently untangled himself from you, fingers tracing your waist. "Don't move around too much, you're going to bother my little swimmers, you know."
It took you a few seconds to realize what he meant and you glared at him. "You horny weirdo. I just woke up."
“Heh heh heh~ Don't take it too seriously! I was just trying to get you to smile.” He pinched your cheeks and then mused, “Well, I'd actually be surprised if we made it last night...”
"You're not funny," you retorted. You had been feeling weird and that was when you saw it.
The dazzling, massive diamond ring. On your finger. Wait, is that Graff's Tribal Collection?
"Satoru..." you mumbled, lifting your hand in shock, your eyes fixed on the piece that likely cost more than your monthly wage. "You..."
"Do you like it?" his smile was so easy and light, adoring the sight of you. You were so adorable, marveling at the little gift he got you.
"What do you mean—" you stuttered, turning to him. "Are you crazy?! I can't wear something this expensive—!"
"But that's exactly my point. It's a gift, meant to spoil my wife."
"You are mad," warmth flooded your cheeks, your heart fluttering with joy. You were unbelievably giddy because your husband really knew the way to your heart, yet you'd be damned if you let the excitement show in front of him.
He raised an eyebrow, his expression souring, and with a mocking tone, he accused you, "Actually, you're the one who's gone mad. I can't believe you forgot our anniversary!"
"I didn't, you dummy. I was out picking up your favorite mochi cake before you got yourself wasted." You turned away from him, shyly. "And I got a gift for you too."
"Oh? Oooh! Really!? What is it?!"
He was back to his silly self again, and you could only shake your head, wondering how the sex god from last night and this fool was the same person.
Yet, you felt nothing but love. Your heart couldn't help but melt for him when you saw that carefree grin.
And you couldn't be more grateful to the stars for bringing him into your life.
. . .
Oh, and little did you know that his little swimmers also made the goal last night— as three weeks later, you found yourself clutching the first of your pregnancy tests, which was showing a positive.
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whateveriwant · 5 months
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Task force 141 reacting to their very pregnant wife still trying to clean, cook etc
This turned more into ‘Task force 141 preventing their very pregnant wife from trying to clean, cook, etc’ lmaooooo I hope that's alright
Price
HA! Good one!
No seriously, it's actually hilarious that you think you'd do anything for yourself when your hubby's around
That man has been waiting on you hand and foot since you first got together. So now that you're pregnant and you think he'd let you so much as lift a finger? You must have a serious case of pregnancy brain, sweetheart
Price is doing all the cooking, the cleaning, the running errands, etc. throughout the entirety of your pregnancy (and at least the first several months postpartum)
He's kept you practically bed bound these last few months to the point where you think there's a perfect indent of your body molded into the mattress
Seven months in, he's suddenly called away to a quick mission halfway across the globe, and you think finally you'll get some of your autonomy back...
Well, think again because who should show up at your door the next morning than your mother-in-law herself, ready to pick up where her son left off
She came at the behest of your husband, of course, and was armed with a detailed set of care instructions
What does your husband think you are? Some sort of one-of-a-kind, priceless artifact that needs special handling? (Actually that's exactly what you are. Price-less… I'll see myself out 🚶🏻‍♀️)
Ghost
When it comes to having some semblance of independence during your pregnancy, Ghost will give you a bit of a longer leash than Price, but only just so
You’re going for a walk around the neighborhood? Hold on, let him grab his coat to join you. Or you're going into the backyard to tend the garden? He'll pull the weeds while you water the plants
But when it comes to letting you do certain things, there are some hard nos that he will absolutely not budge on
You try to use a stepladder to reach the top of the cupboard? Stop! You'll break your neck! You try to pick up anything heavier than 10 pounds? Stop! Give it here! You try to drive?... Don't even fuckin' think about it, precious.
The farther along your pregnancy progresses, the better he gets at predicting (and intercepting) your next move
You were gonna do laundry today? Well, wouldn't you know, he's already got a load going in the washer. You were about to make dinner? Well shucks, he just ordered takeaway from that Greek place you love
His ability to read your mind is honestly impressive once you get past how damn annoying you find it. Just because you're pregnant doesn't mean you're incapable of fending for yourself, and you're tired of him acting as if otherwise
But really, you can never get mad at anything he does for you. After all, what kind of a husband would he be if he didn't take care of his missus and your little one?
Soap
If you take Ghost’s cautiousness, mix it with Price’s thoroughness, and crank it up to an 11, you get Soap
From the moment he found out you were pregnant, he put your house into full lockdown mode, stopping just short of booby trapping the front door in case you got any funny ideas
You want some fresh air? Just open a window. You want to go for a walk and stretch your legs? Just take a few turns about the living room like you're some Austenian heroine
Don't let him catch you doing any kind of physical labor, because so help him Jesus he will grab a spray bottle and use it like you're a feral alleycat he's trying to house-train (he wouldn't really... but don't test him)
You try to unload the dishwasher? Ehrr! Wrong move. You try to remake the bed? Ehrr! Nice try. You try to mop up your own mess. Ehrr! Enough already. You try to– OCH, WOULD YE BLOODY SIT DOWN, WOMAN?!
For nine long months during his requested leave from work, your husband is attached to you like some kind of loving, smothering barnacle
But doesn't he miss his job, or the lads for that matter? What if the world needs saving? What will they do without him?
Well, (in his exact words) fuck the rest of the world! You're his world, bonnie, and he'll give you everything you could ever wish for and then some
Gaz
By far, you have the most independence with Gaz than you would with any of the other three men… at least, at the beginning of your pregnancy, that is
Once you get to around five or six months he becomes just as helicopter-y as all the others; he's just ever so slightly more bearable, perhaps
There's lots of peeking his head around the corner to check on you throughout the day or appearing seemingly out of thin air whenever you're doing something he'd rather you wouldn't
You've lost count of the number of times you've been in the middle of cooking or hanging up the laundry or whatever and his hand has suddenly appeared out of nowhere, gently taking the object from you before directing you to sit and rest
And like, look. He knows you can handle yourself. He knows you could conquer the whole world if you wanted to. That's one of the things he loves about you the most
But seeing you like this – so fragile, so vulnerable, so beautiful and soft and pregnant with his child; his child – it just… It makes him…
He just needs to do these things for you, alright, love? Just let him take care of you, please? Would you let him do that?
You already have so much you have to carry. Let him ease some of the burden off your shoulders. Let him do these small things for you because they don't even compare to all that you're doing for him 🥲
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unknownmads · 5 months
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CANT STOP THINKING ABOUT INMATE TOJI AND CUTE LITTLE Y/N WHOS SO NAIVE TO BIG BAD TOJI
CW: Slight smut (mentions of his pp🤭)
☆☆☆
thinking about Prison toji who you met when your college has you do a little project in your criminal psychology class. The project was make a penpal get to know them ask why they are in prision, what their lives before was like, do they regret what they did etc. basic questions of course all you had to do was get the most information out of the penpal about their personal lives as you could.
Prison Toji who only signed up for the program because it was part of his latest court order saying he ‘needed more understanding’ so a penpal would give him a friend while they stay safe😭 he ofc hated the idea and thought it was the dumbest shit ever. until he got his first letter, from you (duh).
Prison toji who got mail for the first time and it was a little white envelope with a cute little sticker sealing it. He deadpanned *is my penpal an idiot these letters are for a prison not a daycare* he silently judges examining every detail as he opened the letter. i read the letter taking in every little personal detail you shared with him, your cute little name, how you loved your cat, how you’re new to the city only just moving for school, of course the boring questions for him as well. But at the very end of the letter he noticed an extra little note.
Ps. i left a few photos of myself along with some of my cat! i think it’s only fair since i got to see your photo on the website
Prison toji who grabs the envelope he previously had thrown to the side and pulls out 3 polaroids. One of you and probably your cat you’re dragging it into the photo with a big grin on your face. the second is a photo of your face a soft smile on your lips meant for whoever took the photo but Toji couldn’t help but wonder if that little smile was for him. Until he pulls out the third photo it’s a full view of you, you’re out in the city dressed all out, and Toji couldn’t help but know you chose that photo just for him.
Prison Toji who can’t wait to finally get some alone time so he can truly appreciate your pretty photos. And immediately goes to write you back answering all your cute little questions. Telling you where he lived before, how he ended up there, telling you what he did for work before (Surprise he sold drugs😍), telling you what he does to occupy his time here (he works out he just wanted an excuse to tell you how strong he is), and he asks you some questions.
Prison Toji who has been relentlessly flirting with since you started writing to him, asking if you had a boyfriend, how your school was going, why you moved to the city, how a cute lil thing like you is still single. You had been writing each other for a few weeks now which is a lot less than you think when you know how long mail takes. But your letters to each other are long. answering every little thing each other asks, learning about one another more and more. You had really connected so you finally ask him the big question he read the words as clear as day.
~Do you think i could come pay you a visit? ~
Prison Toji who had to immediately write back answering the most important question first.
~ And doll, you can come visit me anytime id love to finally meet you and see your pretty face in person~
he wanted to be nonchalant.
Prison Toji who was sitting in bed looking at your photos when he was called
“Zenin, you’ve got a visitor. away from the door.”
Prison Toji silently followed standing on the other side of the cell while the guard came in to handcuff him and bring him to the visiting area. Once he was in the room his cuffs connecting him to the table he waited. until he heard the door open again. He felt his cock twitch in his pants as he saw the guard guide you in. You were wide eyed taking in the new environment until they landed on him.
Prison Toji was large, you knew he was tall and muscular thanks to his letters and photo but nothing could have prepared you for the real deal. Eyes widening even more when you fully take him in. seated At the grey metal table his hands on the table as the guard had told him to. his hair poking at his eyes which were staring drinking you in. his lip in a smirk helping you notice the scar on it which you couldn’t really see from the grainy prison photos. His shirt stretched against his muscles showing off a few tattoos hidden along his skin. the view making you squeeze your thighs together to release some of the pressure building.
Prison Toji who took in as much of you as he could as he watched you shuffle into your seat across from him, enjoying how you squirmed slightly within his gaze, his smirk growing into an almost full smile.
“hey doll it’s good to finally meet you.”
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cntloup · 20 days
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"Hey! What are you doing?!" he nearly shouts as he quickly rushes to take the bags of groceries from you.
You're eight months pregnant and your husband has been immensely loving, helpful and considerate, but safe to say overbearing at times.
"I just wanted to help." you say sheepishly, a slight pout forming on your lips.
"I've got it." he says, tone harsher than he intended as he grabs the bags without even looking at you, then leaves, thinking nothing of it.
You stomp your feet to the bedroom, well, as well as you can in your state and slam the door behind you.
He's startled at the sound and it dawns on him just now what he has done, "Fuckin' hell." he grumbles under his breath.
He finds you lying down on the bed and walks over to sit beside you.
"I'm sorry, love. I shouldn't have talked to you that way." he apologizes in a much softer voice.
He places one hand on your waist and the other on your belly, tenderly rubbing soothing circles only for you to pull away and turn your back to him.
His heart shatters in his chest as he stares at you with desperate, apologetic eyes.
And shortly after, he hears the soft sound of your sniffles.
He shuffles on the bed to get closer to you, lightly touching your arm, "Love?" he beckons softly, eyebrows furrowed as he feels truly concerned now.
"Please, lovie. Talk to me." he pleads, fingers gently brushing against your bare arm.
Your hiccupped cry gets louder by the second until you’re full on sobbing as you curl into yourself.
"Fuck! I'm so sorry, love." he apologizes again, feeling more and more desperate and helpless.
He lies down behind you and pulls you closer to him by the waist and his hand rests on your belly.
He murmurs 'I'm sorry' and 'I love you' into your hair over and over again, not really knowing what else to do in order to calm you down.
Until suddenly he hears your burst of giggles, not sure if he heard correctly.
"It tickles!" you giggle again as his breath tickles your neck.
He slightly shifts in his place, supporting his weight on his arm and lifting himself up to look at you in surprise of the sudden change in your mood.
You turn your head to look back at him with a lovely smile, making his breath hitch in his throat.
"Yeah?" a mischievous smile forms on his face and his hands move to your sides.
And before you can react, he's tickling you mercilessly.
"Siii!" you whine in between uncontrollable laughter and thrashing your arms around trying to stop him from his brutal tickle attacks as he smirks and laughs at your attempts, enjoying this way more than he should.
Until all of a sudden a loud drawn-out gasp leaves your mouth and he immediately stops, "Fuck! Are you ok? Did I hurt you?" he asks in deep concern as his eyes stir around, looking for any sign of damage.
You just take his hand and place it on your belly with no words and at first, he looks confused, but quickly realizes what you meant, his eyes lighting up as he feels your baby's kicks against his palm.
He feels tears prickle the corner of his eyes and can't help but kiss you with such flaming love and fierce devotion that he feels for both of you.
And you spend the rest of the day in each other's arms, feeling your baby's kicks with pure happiness in your hearts and he soothingly rubs your belly and kisses you when you whine in pain.
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augustinewrites · 6 months
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“sunflowers or peonies?”
“awe, nanami! i’m flattered—”
“they’re not for you,” nanami says flatly. “you can buy your own.”
shoko squints down at the man lying on her exam table, arm held up and behind his head. “i’m quite literally stitching you back together, you know.”
the blond thinks bitterly on what had landed him in her infirmary in the first place, injured and likely having to reschedule dinner tonight. it’s already well past the time he’d planned on picking you up, and the table he’d reserved at the new restaurant in roppongi has likely been given away.
he’s dreading calling to tell you, his heart already twinging at the idea of letting you down.
shoko stitches him up neatly, cleaning and covering it up with a layer of bandages. she offers him a hand to help him sit up, but he bypasses it to plant his palm against the cot, pushing himself up with a groan.
she rolls her eyes, peeling her gloves off and pulling her mask down, tossing them both into the trash. “clean and dress it at least twice a day. no sudden movements of strenuous activity for at least a week. if you ruin my work, i’ll put you on bedrest.”
she digs through her cabinets as he awkwardly pulls his shirt back on. his mind drifts to you as he does so. he’d lost his phone in the fight, so he hadn’t been able to tell you about cancelling.
he wonders if the pout on your lips is painted your lips that shade of red you’d been wearing when he’d first met you. wonders if you’re waiting wearing the dress he’d gifted you last week.
he’d really wanted to see you in that dress.
nanami sighs heavily as he does up the buttons, prompting shoko to glance over her shoulder at him.
“what’s wrong with you?” she asks, setting a small bottle of painkillers on the tray table next to him.
“i’m missing an important dinner,” he grumbles, wondering if just a bundle sunflowers or peonies from the small stall outside is enough. he should order you a proper bouquet from a shop. perhaps he can also book you a massage or—
a knock at the door interrupts his spiralling.
“oh!” shoko suddenly gasps. she reaches up, brushing a few stray hairs from his forehead and fixing it as best she can.
“what are you doing?” he asks, genuinely confused in this moment.
“you’ll see,” she simply grins, sending him a wink. then, “come in!”
the door to the infirmary opens to reveal…you.
“kento,” you breathe, the quiet click of your heels echoing through the empty room as you quickly walk towards him.
he’s shocked, but lets you carefully wrap your arms around him, cradling his head against your chest.
but before he knows it he’s holding onto you too, breathing in the deep, sweet scent of your perfume and focusing on the steady beat of your heart.
“what are you doing here?” he asks once you finally release him, taking your hands in his.
“shoko called me,” you tell him. “apparently…apparently i’m your emergency contact.”
his face is suddenly hot with embarrassment. he’d honestly forgotten about that. he hadn’t even realized he’d done it when yaga had asked him to update his information with the school. your name had been the first and only name to pop into his mind.
“sorry,” he apologizes quickly, dropping your hands. he jumped the gun, didn’t he? you’ve only been dating for six months… “i should have asked you first but—”
but no one knows me better than you.
a soft sigh slips from your lips as you sit next to him, with a gaze so reverent that it strips him to the bone. “i love you, kento. i will be your emergency contact as long as you want me to be.”
he whispers the words back to you, suddenly shy.
sometimes nanami lets himself slip a little too far into his own head, overthinking and a little insecure. but you’re always there, ready to coax him back into the light.
“you look beautiful,” he murmurs, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles. he’s seen you in a lot of dresses, each one making him weak in the knees. but this dress…this one makes it a little hard for him to breathe.
“well, you still owe me a date,” you tell him, helping him up off the cot. “we could go to the ramen place across from my apartment.”
he wraps an arm around your shoulders, and you reach up to intertwine your fingers with his. “i’d go anywhere with you.”
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deadsetobsessions · 3 months
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Damian Wayne was like a duckling. A violent, stab-happy, danger-prone duckling, yes, but a duckling all the same. Which means when Danny almost got stabbed by a sleepy, instinct driven Damian, he was able to wave it off with a laugh. Damian, on the other hand, stared in horror at the butter knife firmly lodged in Danny’s arm.
“PENNYWORTH!” Danny jerked back at Damian’s scream. “RICHARD! FATHER!”
God damn, the kid had a pair of lungs on him. Danny’s wince was interpreted as pain to Damian, who gently grabbed his injured arm and started to pull him towards the kitchen’s marble island.
Danny blinked, non plussed as his hearing picked up a thundering of feet as the present family members scrambled towards Damian’s distress call.
“Wait, Damian, I’m fine. It’s-”
“You have been impaled, you imbecile! Had it been any of the other simpletons, they would have-!”
“Ouch.” Danny put his other hand in mock hurt over his slow-beating heart. He literally doesn’t care about the butter knife. He’s just impressed there was enough force in there to impale him. “Are you calling me names now? After- gasp- stabbing me?”
Before Damian could reply, the beginnings of regret, remorse, and guilt on his face, Alfred, Dick, and Bruce burst into the kitchen.
“What happened?!”
“My word, master Danny!”
“What is it?!”
“I’m fine. It’s like a small stab. Not even a big stab. I’m good.”
Dick paled, seeing Danny’s arm clutched in Damian’s hand.
“That’s- that’s a knife. In your arm. How is that ‘fine’?!”
“What happened.” Bruce asked Damian, gently removing Danny’s arm from Damian’s death clutch.
“I- I did not mean to,” Damian starts, guilt coloring his voice.
“He didn’t,” Danny cuts in. “I startled him and got stabbed for being dumb. I won’t fault him for having a defense mechanism like that, ancient knows what I might do if you guys startled me.”
The awkward silence that settled at his words made Danny twitch awkwardly.
“Uh, so, can I add this knife to my collection? Even if I didn’t get mugged?”
“Danny.”
“Bruce.” Danny stared stubbornly back. With his uninsured hand, he patted Damian on the head. He was going to enjoy the fluffiness before Damian’s guilt was no longer enough to hold him back from snapping at Danny’s hand like a grumpy alligator. Bruce loses, obviously. He’s a teenager who was also an ex-vigilante. Batman’s got nothing on a determined halfa.
“Master Danny, I must insist you refrain from getting stabbed. There is only so much gauze and antiseptic cream in the house.” Alfred returned- huh, when did he leave?- with a med kit.
Danny called bullshit because he knows there’s a whole ass medical bay beneath the manor.
“Sorry.”
“No need to apologize.” Alfred said, promptly beginning the extraction of the butter knife.
“Are you okay?” Dick asked, hovering worriedly. “He- are you…?”
Damian was allowing Danny to ruffle his hair, so…
“Yep, I’m good. This isn’t even on my top thirty most painful stabbings,” and it really wasn’t. That honor was given to the GIW and that one time Jazz accidentally stabbed him with her earrings. “That was pretty impressive, actually. It’s like, a butter knife. The other ones had pointy ends.”
“Do not clump me with those pathetic wastes of spaces. I am naturally superior and would… would never harm you on purpose.” Damian said, getting quiet at the end like he was trying to plead to Danny to believe him.
“Of course not. But- if you want help me keep the knife, you can hit me with a mug, it would technically be a mugging.”
The pun got the desired effect. Damian leaned away with a disgruntled look and Dick stopped hovering as close in order to let out a small cackle.
“Done.”
“You should go get changed, kiddo. We’re going to see Tim’s photography at the Gotham Gallery today.”
“Oh, for real?” Danny patted Damian’s fluffy hair one last time, pushing away from the counter. “Oh, I’ll clean up here first and-”
“That will not be necessary,” Alfred scolded, a mop somehow already in his hands. “Please see to it you are prepared for the day.”
“Thanks, Alfred. Can I keep the knife.”
“Very well.”
“Sweet. See you guys later?” Danny pranced off after seeing the nods.
——
“He’s… he got stabbed a lot. Before us, I mean.” Dick tapped a furious rhythm onto the counter. “Not that we’ve stabbed him until now but even once is concerning for a civilian.”
“He was used to it.” Bruce replied.
“Perhaps we should join Todd in his endeavor and ensure that his worthless tormentors are permanently out of the picture.”
“God, he said top thirty. He was counting.”
Damian silently withdrew a kitchen knife.
“No murder with my quality chef’s knives, Master Damian.”
“Tt.”
“Master Jason follows the same rules. Now, out of the kitchen. I may be old, but I remember the last time master Bruce and master Dick stepped foot in here and I will not have a repeat.”
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alexthetrashyracoon · 1 month
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Simon wants to marry you.
This fact was as clear as rain on his mind. You were the love of his life, he was ready to settle down with you and grow old.
So Simon prepared everything for that special day, it was your fourth year anniversary and Simon wants to ask you the biggest question someone could ask and he hoped, maybe even prayed despite not believing in any higher deity, that you would say 'yes' to his proposal.
He has planned out the whole day, from the moment you woke to the moment you would close your eyes for the night again, everything was supposed to be perfect.
Simon brings you breakfast in bed, watching your smile brighten when you see the freshly pressed orange juice and the fresh buns, still warm from the bakery. "Happy Anniversary." He whispers before slipping back into bed behind you, pulling you between his legs and stealing some of the freshly cut Mango from your plate.
When breakfast is over, you two made a mess out of each other while trying to feed each other, he scoops you up and carries you into the bathroom, telling you to get ready and that he has a lot of plans for today which causes you to become perceptive. Immediately starting to question him about his plans, but he's still a trained soldier, he withstands your flow of questions.
Another plan of Simon for today was bringing you to a fair, the same one you two met four years ago.
Here he wanted to ask you to marry him, on top of the Ferris wheel where you two had been stuck together four years ago due to a technical issue with the electronic.
But after spending a few hours walking the fair ground, having to walk back to his car once to bring Lord Otto from Otterson, the plush Otter he won you at one of the stupid and usually very rigged fair games, to safety and out of the way. You make it to the Ferris wheel and Simon's face fell.
"Out of order..." He breathes and runs a hand through his short blonde hair, staring up at the still standing wheel and the dangling cable cars.
"Damn." You curse softly next to him and scratch your neck. "Well, maybe we can ride it another day, mhm?"
"Yeah, maybe. Well, we can't change anything now." He chuckles and squeezes the velvety box in his back pocket. Keeping it safe until you two would reach the next destination.
The small restaurant by the corner where you two lived was filled with loud voice, happy laughter, children running around, not that Simon minded, he knew you were a very outgoing person and enjoyed the social interactions from such evenings.
Simon had reserved a table a few weeks ago and the waiter brings you and him over, Simon shushing the poor man who just wants to help you sit.
He is your boyfriend, bloody hell, he can do something so simple as helping you get seated.
"I know it is our anniversary, Simon," You chuckle as you put down the glass of wine Simon has ordered for you and him, "But something feels different. I just don't know what. Special..."
"Four years is just a long time, love. Maybe your brain finally catches up with... wha-?" Simon wants to be cheesy with you before asking you the question of all questions when suddenly his feet feel wet and he looks down, seeing water come from the kitchen.
His second attempt of asking for your hand has been sabotaged by a broken water pipe.
Simon curses internally as he carries you back outside, not wanting to get your feet wet and cause you catching some flu.
Well, there is only the romantic walk through the nearby park which is empty around this time of the night, so you two can walk around the pond and watch the fireflies and swans before he can go down on one knee and finally ask.
But before he even get you through the sturdy iron gates that allowed entrance to the park, his phone rang, Prices' number on the screen and everything in Simon screams to ignore his Captain for the sake of your relationship and your future.
He apologizes and takes the call, listening to Price explaining that they've got information about a certain Russian Terrorist planning an attack and that they had to meet within the next hour.
"It's fine." You reassure him when he brings you back to your shared apartment, squeezing his hand with a gentle smile on your lips. "I had a lot of fun today with at my side. And saving the world is much more important. We can celebrate another time, Si."
"You're too forgiving." Simon replies and presses his chapped lips against your forehead. "But it's not fine. I had the whole day planned out. And the universe seems against me at all, bloody hell. All I wanted to do tonight was asking you to marry me. And everything I've tried blew. The Ferris Wheel, the restaurant, even the walk..."
You cut him off before he can talk himself into a frenzy by wrapping your arms around his neck, having to stand on your tiptoes and planting your lips on his.
"Yes." You grin when you pull back. "Yes, I will marry you, Simon Riley. I will marry you."
Maybe he should have simply asked you this morning during breakfast, might have saved him from getting another grey hair on his head. But sometimes the simple answer is hidden behind the complicated ideas.
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cosmosis · 11 months
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MOVED TO @seratopia
miguel o’hara x reader (fluff) - jealousy
miguel gets jealous possessive after a new intern flirts with you this is part of the same universe as my call oneshot!
Being 2nd in charge of the multiverse is... honestly not that hard for you. It’s mostly just co-leading, and being a secretary. Lyla helps out a bunch, but sometimes, a sassy AI can only do so much. 
Jess informed you of a new intern she recruited. Apparently, he’s having his first day today, which means you’ll probably have to do a quick run-through of things with him later. 
For now, it’s your fated duty to sit with Miguel at his desk so he doesn’t get all pouty later. He starts huffing and puffing when you aren’t near, takes it out on the kids sometimes. 
Thanks to your suggestion, Miguel invested in a nice desk and swivel chair for the office, so now it looks more like an actual workspace instead of a maniac’s plot room. (either way, he his one lmao)
Since Lyla’s gone for the time being, you’re standing up on the office platform, tapping away at a multitude of screens. Miguel lays lazily in the office chair, swiveled up behind you to rub his face into your upper back, as well as run his hands along your tummy. 
“Hun, you gotta let go. I needa tour the intern.” You mutter, closing in on an ID photo of the recruit.
“No.“
“Well, if I don’t do it, then who will?“ You ask. 
“Jess.“
“She’s busy on her break. Pregnant women need breaks, you know.“
“Ugh. I don’t want you to leave.“ He whines. squeezing you tighter. 
You start squirming out of his grip, pulling his pinky off of your stomach. Inching away, you push Miguel away by his head. Reluctantly, he starts letting you go, lazily running his hands onto the skin of your hips and lower thighs before letting go. 
“I’ll see you in a bit, baby.“ You say, scuffing up his hair with your palm. Gracefully, you leap down from the platform, somersaulting onto the floor and skating out the exit. You hop over a few stray cardboard boxes. 
Miguel watches you stroll away, and fixes his hair back into place. 
Lyla magically appears, phasing in and out with a different sly look each time. She snickers, flickering all around Miguel’s head. 
“Whipped.“
“Shut the fuck up.“
. . .
Miguel’s blood starts to boil as soon as you roll in with that stupid, bastard of an intern. He’s too close to you for comfort, so close to his arm nudging yours... Miguel’s teeth start to clench, his fangs close to drawing blood from his mouth. He’s paying too much attention to you, there’s a vibe he gets that he hates to his core. 
Everything about him is aggravating; the blonde hair, the snarky smirk, all of it.  
“...and this is Miguel’s office!“ You say, gesturing your hand to the majority of the area. 
“Sweet, nice to meet the bossman.“
Bossman, his ass. Miguel would only ever let you call him bossman. 
“Miguel! Come down!“ You yell, and his heart warms in his chest. He turns around from his standing form on the office platform, eyeing the intern in order to scare him a bit. 
“Hey, what’s up man! Glad to finally meet the man behind the slaughter!“ The intern exclaims, his hands rested on his hips. 
Miguel fights every urge to both roll his eyes and tackle the recruit, keeping a somewhat straight face on. He chuckles a little, not a single trace of a smile on his face. 
“Heh, yeah? Excited to meet the bossman?“ Miguel taunts, but it looks like the intern can’t tell he is. 
“Heck yeah dude! Where do I start?“
Miguel starts nodding a little, plastering on a face smile, chuckling a bit...
Before he throws the entire office chair at the recruit. Not to hit you, though. He’d never, ever hit you. 
Instantly, the intern turns away, shielding his body with his hands. In the nick of time, though, you latch your webbing onto the chair, slinging it away to side before it could harm anyone. You cross your arms. 
“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry about tha- MIGUEL!“ You scream. 
And he throws a literal file cabinet at the man. Again, you latch it out of way without problem. 
“What th'heck, man?! What’s your fuckin’ problem?!“ The intern yells, spreading his arms out. 
“My fuckin’ problem is you nagging my wife!“ He roars. 
“Wait a sec- she’s your wife?“
Miguel then  leaps down from the platform, chin held up high in a sinister glare. Slowly, he steps over towards the both of you, fixing his eyes on the intern the entire time. 
Miguel’s tall, really tall compared to the newbie. He pokes his finger to the recruit, leaning in real close. 
“Stay at least 5 feet away from my wife at all times.“ Miguel utters, and you kinda feel bad for the new guy. 
You cross your arms. “C’mon, Miguel. He’s literally new, take it easy on him!” You say back, and Miguel pouts, whines. Possessively, he reaches over to you, pulling in you in by the hip to try to soothe you. It doesn’t work, and you present yourself from giving into his needy touches.  
And then, you turn around back to the newbie. “Gosh, I’m so sorry about that! He’s usually not like this-”
“Man, fuck this.“ The intern exclaims, taking a few steps back in agitation. “Take me back home, I ain’t dealin’ with this shit!“
He storms off, kicking a stray cardboard box on the way out. 
“Aw, crap.“
“Finally.“
You swerve back around, hands on your hips. “Miguel, that was uncalled for.”
“Yes it was! He was smothering all over you!“ He yells, throwing his hands up in the air like it was the most obvious thing ever. 
“Well, now thanks to you, we lost a recruit.“
“One of literally thousands!“
“And now, there’s papers everywhere on the floor!“
“Shhh, honey, I’ll clean it up later.“
Ignoring your frown, Miguel finally pulls you into him, pressing your lower back into his own with a nose into your hair.
“I saw the way he put his arm around you. He was flirting with you too. Hated it.“ Miguel utters. 
“When?“ You ask.
“On the surveillance.“ He says, and you sigh. He’s right, the guy was flirting with you for a bit, but you chose to ignore it so you could get over with the tour faster. 
“Eh, he gave me the heebie jeebies from the beginning.“ You say, and Miguel automatically squeezes you tighter into him, a deep grumble bellowing from his inner throat.
“I’m never letting you tour anyone ever again.“ Miguel admits.
“After that? Go ahead.“ You scoff, and finally, he sighs in relief. 
He tries drags you back to the office platform again, but then forgets that he threw the chair, grumbling in regret. Instead, he just hovers behind you for the rest of the day, occasionally pressing a smooch to your head. 
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yanderenightmare · 2 months
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TW: nsfw, noncon/dubcon, omega verse/hybrid au, size difference, pet-play, predator x prey, collaring, double-pen, gangbang kinda, tag-team
fem reader
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It’s been a month since your new owner brought you home, and despite expectations, you’ve yet to be eaten by the predators you share your den with. On the contrary, the six hybrids seem to have accepted you as their seventh pack member despite you being at the very bottom of the food chain.
You’ve come to trust that, despite the look of hunger in their eyes… food isn’t exactly what they have in mind. 
The hyena seems to be the only one your age. But he’s also a bit of a bully. Always goading you with ticklish poking until you stomp your feet and whine at him to stop. 
He never listens to you, though – he just cocks his head, finding it funny how you try giving him orders – only grinning as he pins you instead, chewing some on the lops of your ears while squeezing your cottontail – smirking and giggling at your pouty face getting all frustrated.
Your weak kicking is so cute, and so is how you try clawing at him despite having but blunt nails – he can’t help but laugh at the way it tickles him. 
It’s so painstakingly clear you’re not made to fight back, and it’s so adorable how you don’t even realize you already surrendered the moment you rolled over on your back with your belly up. 
It makes him go absolutely feral when you pull on his ears and mane, begging him to stop as he laves at your slit and clit, delving his long tongue deep within your walls until the tip prods your womb. It’s course against your skin and harsh on your insides and scratches your poor clit until it’s all swollen and throbbing for him – making you sob as his feral smile teases your chubby mound with a bite – only satisfied when you cum in his mouth.
But while the hyena enjoys play-fighting with you, the rest are more prone to fight each other…
The panther and leopard are good friends, whilst the fox and wolf seem to tolerate each other – and you don’t know whether it’s unfortunate or a blessing in disguise that both pairs only want you for themselves and often end up fighting over you.
You’d say the four are the most trigger-happy of the pack – always hissing and barking at each other. But everyone knows that cats and dogs don’t get along.
The canines are a little scarier, you think. They’re rougher with you.
The wolf especially. He’s older than you, a big heap of hulking muscles that bear down over you with the daunting superiority of a seasoned hunter. 
He doesn’t take lightly to you talking back to him – acting as though he’s actually offended when you so much as open your mouth if it’s not to swallow his tongue. Even if all you ask is for him to go a little slower, he’ll just growl at you – threatening your neck with fangs while chewing your collar – and otherwise ignore your cry completely. Calling you his bitch while telling you to quit your whimpering even though he’s been breeding you sore for the past hour, ramming your poor cunt so hard your muscles have all given out and left you to lie on the floor with only his paws keeping your hips upright.
He's always extra rough when you reek of cat – as though it’s your fault. Huffing and puffing as he now has to spend so much effort scenting you again.
It’s a never-ending war between them all. You go from camp to camp, getting marked again and again like territory, only for your owner to clean you up at the end of the day.
But the wolf is the worst. One time he’d gone so far as to piss on you… 
But he was later scolded by the owner – bonking his head with a rolled-up newspaper, telling him he had to learn to share or else he’d have to go sleep out in the doghouse. He’d also been told he had to stop breaking skin when biting you unless he wanted to be muzzled.
It only made him all the more grumpier. Growling in your ear that the one who ought to be muzzled is you and your snitch-mouth always crying wolf like some bitch who never learns her place – that next time you go talking to the owner, he’s going to eat you like the piece of meat you are.
You come to learn that he’s more bark than bite after a while. 
When you get used to him and his stamina, you stop crying and start holding onto him instead. And it’s when you’re burying your face in his neck and begging for his seed that he softens up for you.
He stops biting and starts sucking instead – laying hickeys all over your neck and chest, blushing with closed eyes when suckling your tits like a pup. You learn he’s a sucker for being called good boy and will wag his tail when you sit on his face. 
He’s also the one with the most owner-sickness of the pack, always clinging to you, growling when others get close, and never ever sharing when his turn.
He only begrudgingly allows the fox to eat his scraps afterward. 
You can only mew as he mounts you next. 
His tempo is always a bit of a shock – a bit juvenile, but who can blame him when he’s had to wait for so long? He’s a little younger than you – eager and desperate for it every single time.
Pounding you sharply – hard and fast with howls and heavy panting – even whimpering as you hold you tighter and tighter, squeezing you free of air as he savors the feel of your wet pussy clamping down around him.
He doesn’t growl too much when you whine. Instead, he laughs – elated and frenzied – eyes manic as he sticks his tongue as far down your throat as he can – drooling uncontrollably as he sinks his knot inside you and spills his worth inside your womb.
It’s a relief he doesn’t last as long as his bigger partner.
He’ll suck love-bites on the chubs of your cheeks as he unswells – lick all the sweat from your skin and come down by the sweet taste. Laying sloppy kisses all over your body and lapping over all bruises and soreness in gratitude – looking at you somewhat sheepishly with big puppy-dog eyes as though suddenly embarrassed that he’d been so feral.
The felines are less spastic. 
But they also like to lick you – with sand-textured tongues scraping at your fur and skin until they’ve made sure you’re coated with their scent. They seem to enjoy grooming more than anything, always snuggling with you.
But they get flirty, too… you’ll know when they start kneading your softer parts – blinking at you slow and expectantly until you return the favor.
They’re the same age and have known each other all their life, practically brothers, and do everything together as though they were a pair of Siamese – including when they mate with you. 
They’ll lay you down on one lean chest while the other is poised above you. Purring as they take turns with you – both so gently.
The panther always has a sly smile on his face when looking down at you – his claws retracted while he sticks his slender fingers inside your mouth to play with your tongue. He says it’s one of his favorite things about you – so soft and so silky, so different from theirs when you lick his skin.
It makes the leopard pout behind you, nuzzling you tight, his cheek to your cheek, asking the other if he doesn’t like it when he grooms him. 
The panther only smiles down at both of you, promising that he likes both your tongues until he proceeds to swap between which one of you he kisses.
When the leopard kisses you, he also admits he likes your tongue – whispering all depraved things that come to mind – loves how smooth it feels in his mouth and on his lips and neck and nipples and cock and balls.
Eventually, the heat gets to their heads, and their pointy ears start to droop, looking at you with such dark glossy eyes, opium-blown with pleasure and lust for more – kissing each side of your face, asking whether you won’t allow them both inside you at the same time – their pretty pleas making your head go silly, panting while nodding your head for them, bucking your hips stuck between the two while begging for both of them.
You feel their slim tails coil around each of your thighs as they sink inside your drooling heat together – their breaths deep and shuddering while they feel your tightness squeeze around them. 
They coo at you – telling you how perfect you look trapped between them like that – as their pretty little double-stuffed toy. And you’re too cock-drunk to do anything but agree.
After flooding you with cum, they go back to cuddling – sleeping – the both of them purring with lanky limbs all tangled on top of each other and you in the middle.
The bear is also a lazy fellow – a gentle giant. Something you’re grateful for – you don’t think you’d survive if he ever tried mounting and pounding you like the other boys.
He’s the eldest of the pack. Twice your age. You feel the seniority in his movements – all unhurried, savoring every second with a warm smile.
He’s satisfied with having you on his lap – cock-warmed by your tight bunny-cunt while you hand-feed him berries. You feel a little safer with him knowing you have the same appetite and that he isn’t thinking about eating you. 
He hums, a rusty sound that comes from his gut – telling you he likes seeing you eat – that it’s cute how you take such small bites – and the way your nose scrunches and your cheeks fill.
Sometimes he’ll tell you to hop on his lap – his massive warm paws placed on your haunches with large black claws gently denting the plush flesh found there, encouraging you as you ease up and down the great length that bulges from your belly. 
The size of it makes you pant.
You’re glad he’s happy having you at the end of the day – after you’ve been loosened up by the others. You fear he’d split you in two if otherwise.
The owner collects you before bedtime after everyone’s had their share – clips a leash onto your collar, and leads you to the bathroom – crawling on all four like an actual animal. You’ll often collapse halfway there, but he doesn’t mind scooping you up to carry you instead – always with a few patronizing words leaving him while mollycoddling you, almost speaking baby to you, telling you how proud he is of how domesticated you’ve become.
There’s always a bath waiting for you – a gift for being such a good little pet, he says. 
It reminds you of when you were first brought here, as he washes you with his own hands – rubbing the filth of spit, cum, and sweat from your sore limbs, messaging your flesh into nice limber softness again.
He’s always mumbling about human matters under his breath – money, business, estate – ruffling your hair when you give him a blank stare. Apologizing while saying he won’t trouble your pretty head with such complicated topics.
All you have to worry about is being his stress-relief – something clueless and dumb and dependent on him. You realize that without him needing to say it. It’s communicated through all the other things he says anyway.
He’s always whispering in your ear before bed – sweet nothings about what a good bunny you are – how you’re the cutest, softest, sweetest little thing in the entire world – telling you how much he loves you and how happy he is that you’re finally settling in – how you’ve become the most precious little housebroken pet for him.
It feels different when he touches you. The other hybrids make you feel small, but there’s a familiarity with them – something about being hunted fairly and squarely, like out in the wild. 
With the owner, you’re reminded you’re a pet eating out of his palm – something tame warming his bed at night with your leash tied to the bed frame.
He doesn’t fuck you with the same intent as the others do – there’s no rut behind his cold movements. It’s not mating or breeding. It’s something else you can’t put your finger on. Something human. Something alien to you.
Something in the way he has his hand fisting your leash as he sinks inside your heat – something in how he babies you, calls you cute when you shake and cum around his cock like you can’t control yourself.
It all makes you feel like some mindless animal.
Impulsive and primitive in comparison to him and his calculated thrusts and how he only cums inside you after you’ve all but begged him to breed you.
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part 1
Owner: BNHA - Aizawa, AFO JJK - Nanami, Kenjaku HQ - Ukai
Hyena: BNHA - Shigaraki JJK - Mahito HQ - Tendou
Wolf: BNHA - Bakugou, Dabi JJK - Sukuna, Noaya HQ - Sakusa
Fox: BNHA - Kirishima, Denki, Deku, Amajiki JJK - Yuji, Yuuta, Choso HQ - Hinata, Nishinoya
Leopard & Panther: BNHA - Denki & Shinso, Hawks & Dabi JJK - Gojo & Geto HQ - Miya twins, Oikawa & Kageyama, Kuro & Kenma
Bear: BNHA - Enji, Aizawa, All Might, Mirio JJK - Toji, Nanami, Higuruma HQ - Daichi, Ushijima
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nkogneatho · 7 months
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𝐒𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐌𝐀𝐍'𝐒 𝐄𝐗𝐂𝐋𝐔𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐌𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓
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—cw: rough, blowjob, degrading nicknames, hair pulling, tie leash, fem!reader
—a/n: this came into existence after i watched the new episode and i realized this mf is insane and actually has some wild ass kinks
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you hated how the world pictured kento. he wasn't just some bored and tired man who hates his job. he was more than that. he was insane. if only there was a way to show them that.
"On the knees." Nanami ordered, the cheetah print tie circling around his big, rough hand.
You did what he asked to. Not that your body had a privilege to betray your lustful brain and deny. He wrapped his tie against your neck and secured it with a distanced but tight knot. Tight enough to yank when needed. You couldn't meet his eyes in embarrassment, maybe a little fear too. This was a side he kept hidden to the world, only portrayed if he either loved them or wanted to kill them.
"Take my cock out, my sweet slut." Your fingers struggled to unbuckle his expensive belt. He wouldn't help, you knew it. Once you got the metal out if it's loop, you aimed for the buttons, then the zip. Your sweet fingers dug through his underwear to find his cock. It felt so big in your hand always, and it wasn't even completely hard yet. You started giving it slow pumps and heard him curse under his breath. you waited for his next command, for him to tell you what to do but it never came. Instead what came was a hand that cupoed your jaw, forcing you to lock eyes with him.
"I'm going to use this beautiful face as my cocksleeve, yeah? You'd let me, right?" Your core wet, your mind hazy at his words. He didn't need to ask. You know it was just a formality and a dessert that came with the gentleman personality. But he was anything but a gentleman in the bedroom. Calling you names. Using you to his satisfaction. But he knew you liked it because he's the one feeling your pussy tighten when he calls you a "slut."
Nanami's hand traveled to the back of yiur hwad where he grabbed a fistful if your head. You gulped in preparation about what had to come. You opened your mouth and Kento slammed his dick inside you. It slid fast through your tongue but you could taste the hint of his precum.
"Fuck. So good for me," he said, beginning to thrust. "You like when I fuck my frustrations on you." You did. "your mouth is my cumdump, right? you're such a good little slut who always sucks my anger out of me." People out there constantly think how is he always so calm. He's not. The truth is here. He comes home and fucks his anger away. And you count yourself lucky to be his fucktoy because holy shit, the way he fucks you makes you feel like you've found heaven on earth. It's sinister. The darkness in his eyes. They consume you. But ironically, the pleasure that he gives you can only be compared with heaven.
"Shit! I am close—sss agh!" he felt the back of your throat vibrate which sent excitment down his balls. "fuckfuckfuck" he cursed as he yanked your hair back to look at your doe eyes. Soon, he caught up to his high and all you could make for a sound was consumed by his thick load shooting deep inside your throat. He was so deep you didn't even get to taste them. Nanami pulled out, the remaining beads of his cum lacing your lips.
"Such a good little slut. my exclusive cumslut," he cooed running his thumb over your lips, glistening with your sakiva mixed with his released. "ready for me to fuck your brains out, fuckdoll?" Like you'd ever say no.
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celestialwhoree · 3 months
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Ex bf!Simon🖤✬
You're still close. Both mature adults, and you know him better than anyone - he can't lose you, can't stand the thought of letting go of the one person who understands him better than anyone.
When he comes back from deployment and you practically beg him to come to this new club in town with you, he almost says no, really really wants to say no, but when you look at him with saucer wide eyes and a little pleading squeeze to his hand, he agrees to pick you up at nine. Tells you to wear something pretty. He knows you always look pretty, really, but he can't help but miss being able to show you off.
When he picks you up on his black YZF R1, sees you standing there on the sidewalk, he has to adjust his seat on the bike with how embarrassingly hard he gets at just the sight of you all dressed up for him.
"I thought you'd bring the truck." You whine as he hands you his 'spare' helmet that he actually just bought with you in mind. Simon gives you an affectionate little pat on the thigh when you slide on the bike behind him, unable to stop your dress from rucking practically to your hips, the thin lace of your panties inadvertently brushing against his lower back, the worn leather of his belt inconveniently pressing into your clit and you try to think of anything but how wet it's making you. "Traffic's bad tonight, can get there faster on this." He explains, muffled by his helmet.
He keeps a hand on your thigh the whole way there, just like he did when you were together, claimed that it reassured him you were still there, still safe.
Walking into the club is an assault on your senses, and you involuntarily curl into his side as he guides you to the bar, a hand snaking around your waist to settle protectively on your hip, thumb caressing the slightly raised line of your underwear without realising how much it riles you up.
Simon easily manoeuvres you over to the bar, one hand on you at all times, keeping you with him, keeping you safe. He calls his drink order to the bartender over the heavy thump of the music before giving your side a little pinch to pull your attention back to him' "Did you say something?" You hum as you're pulled from your daze. "What d'ya want to drink, baby?" The sound of the music obscures the old pet name that comes out in moments like this where the line in the sand between you is blurred by loud music and the comfort of his hands on your body. "Moscow Mule."
He keeps you tightly to his side as much as possible, occasionally grabbing you by the pressure point in the back of your neck when you get distracted and wander off.
Simon lets you have your fun - until some sleazy bloke who looks like trouble has his hands on your hips, grinding your ass into his pelvis with a smug grin, thinking he's got you hooked. "Hands off, mate." Simon grunts into his ear, a hand snaking around your front, settling on your navel as he pulls your back to his front, and when you turn to look indignantly up at him, he leans his head down to speak directly in your ear. "He was minging, baby." And goes on to soothe you like a petulant child when you go to complain about being able to make decisions for yourself. "Didn't see 'im lookin' at you the way I did, yeah? Just trying to protect my girl."
⋆。‧₊°♱༺𓆩❦︎𓆪༻♱༉‧₊˚.
meant for this to be a drabble but I'm alr thinking about NSFW pt2. Feeling slutty!!!
💕🎀
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blckbrrybasket · 3 months
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TF141
With peeling oranges
Price who doesn’t bat an eye when you ask him to peel your orange. He sets down his book and peels it effortlessly. To him it isn’t a big deal, he’s just happy you wanted his help. Price places a kiss on your head and goes back to reading, smiling behind his mutton chops when he hears your pleased hums.
Soap who has seen the trend of asking your partner to peel your orange and is over the moon excited. He tries to contain his excitement and act like he doesn’t know, but the small cuts speak for itself. Soap was too fast to get it done, but he still did it and thats all that matters. When he hands it back to you he’s grinning so widely you don’t even notice the half squished orange.
Gaz who perks up and quickly nods, taking the ‘order’ and running with it. You momentarily forget about the orange after a few minutes but walk into the kitchen to see Gaz pulling the last string of pith from your orange. He definitely spent the most time on it and made it as perfect as he could. You only deserve perfection. When Gaz gives it back his heart swells when he sees your proud look.
Ghost who outstretches his hand for you to pass the orange to him before you even ask. He doesn’t know about the trend, no, but he likes doing things for you given how much you’ve done for him. Ghost silently peels it and passes it back to you, but not before sneaking a slice for himself. He can’t help but chuckle when you scold him about taking the slice.
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