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[satsugo]

୨୧ You tried to sneak out after a one-night stand. Gojo wakes up — calm, shirtless, and not okay with being left behind. What follows is possessive touches, quiet threats, and a reminder of who you belong to.

I wanted to write something that felt like a slow unravel — soft words, sharp intentions, and Gojo being terrifyingly calm in the way only he can be. just a lil treat for the yandere girlies ♡ hope it ruins you in the best way. mlist

gojo satoru x reader

minors do not interact. this piece is intended for 18+ audiences.

The floor was cold beneath your bare feet as you tiptoed across the suite.

Gojo’s apartment was too clean — pristine white walls, muted city lights pouring through wide windows, and expensive silence that made your breath feel too loud. Your dress from the night before was clutched in one hand, wrinkled and still smelling faintly like sweat and cologne. You hadn’t even put your shoes back on yet.

He was still in bed, you were sure of it. He’d been wrapped in those dark gray sheets when you slid out, dead silent. You hadn’t dared to glance back.

Until now.

“Y’know,” a voice drawled behind you — slow, amused, terrifyingly awake. “If you really wanted to leave quietly, you probably shouldn’t have stolen my shirt.”

You froze mid-step, breath caught like prey in a trap.

He was sitting up now. Hair messier than before. One long arm braced behind him, the other pushing the sheets off his bare torso. His blindfold was gone, tossed somewhere on the nightstand, and his icy blue eyes caught the dim light like sharpened crystal.

You swallowed.

“It was cold,” you offered, lamely.

“Oh, totally,” he said, voice light and sarcastic. “That’s why you’re sneaking out like you killed somebody.”

You turned slowly. “I didn’t think you'd care—”

Gojo laughed. Not loud — just sharp, like a knife sliding across glass.

“You didn’t think I’d care?” he repeated. “Sweetheart… I’ve had your name circling my brain since the second you touched me.”

He stood, bare feet whispering across the hardwood as he stalked toward you — tall, loose-limbed, terrifyingly calm.

You backed up.

Bad idea.

He moved faster, one hand pressing against the wall just beside your head, caging you without even touching you.

“That’s mine,” he said softly, flicking the hem of the shirt you were wearing. His shirt — white, oversized, the one that hung just a little too low on you and hit just high enough on your thighs to drive him insane.

“You mean the shirt?”

His head tilted. “I mean you.”

You went quiet, breath shaky. “We hooked up once.”

“So?” Gojo smiled, slow and bright — but his eyes didn’t match. They burned. “You don’t do that with someone like me and leave. That’s not how this works.”

You opened your mouth, maybe to argue. But the words died on your tongue the second his fingers hooked under the shirt’s hem and pushed up — slow, deliberate, warm palms skating along the skin of your thighs.

“W-Wait—” You shifted, but he just stepped closer, pressing the full heat of his body into yours.

“Don’t run,” he whispered, lips brushing your ear now. “You’ll only make me chase you. And you won’t like how that ends.”

Your breath hitched. His fingers kept moving — slipping higher, thumbs brushing over the crease of your hips, teeth grazing the shell of your ear.

“I liked seeing you in my shirt,” he said softly. “But I like you better out of it.”

You shivered.

Then he tugged — not gently. The shirt lifted over your head, arms caught for a moment before he pulled it free and tossed it aside. You were bare beneath, breathless and pressed against the wall like you didn’t know what to say.

“Pretty little thing,” Gojo murmured, fingers trailing over your bare stomach. “You really thought you could disappear from me? After the way you moaned my name last night?”

You blushed — visibly. It made his eyes darken.

He kissed you. Rough, breath-stealing, like he was trying to taste every sound you’d ever made. You clutched at his shoulders — and it hit you all over again just how strong he was. How fast he could crush you. But he didn’t.

Not yet.

“Bed,” he said. “Now.”

He didn’t yell — didn’t need to. You obeyed without thinking, legs shaky as you moved. He followed like a storm.

The sheets were still warm when he pushed you down, straddling you easily. His hands roamed — over your breasts, down your sides, fingers memorizing every inch like he’d been given a test on it.

“You looked so cute sneaking out,” he murmured, lips grazing your skin as he moved lower. “But you’re not going anywhere now. You hear me?”

You nodded — breathless, wrecked, unsure if it was fear or desire curling low in your stomach.

Maybe both.

He kissed the inside of your thigh, slow and lingering, before glancing up with those impossible blue eyes.

“I’m gonna remind you exactly who you belong to.”

And when he finally lowered his mouth to you — all heat, tongue, and expert cruelty — you forgot your own name.

But you remembered his.

Over and over and over again.

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[softheartedbunn]

Older men with dad bods, guys with scruffy beards, men with tattoos, dads with deep voices, older men with soft tummies, middle aged guys with glasses, men with large hands 😵‍💫

[hwizou]

More gallery dumps 。。。。eat up myi lynzoulings

[miscellaneous-misty]

New Beginnings

✿ summary: in which the jjk men are still healing from their toxic ex and old habits come to the surface in your new relationship with them.

✿ featuring: gojo, geto, nanami, choso, toji, sukuna x fem!reader

✿ tags: SFW, fluff, light angst, hurt/comfort, established relationship, mentioned past relationships, supportive reader, special grade sorcerer sukuna

✿ notes: this one is not so good, sorry. it lowkey sucks but i just wanted to get it out of my drafts. the daisy dividers for this post are by @/saradika-graphics and the butterfly divider is by @/dollywons. i hope you enjoy reading <3 update: i made a reverse version where the reader is the one healing from a toxic ex. you can read it here!

✿ link to masterlist

✿ Gojo ✿

✿ Geto ✿

✿ Nanami ✿

✿ Choso ✿

✿ Toji ✿

✿ Sukuna ✿

[theogonize]

so, nerdy loser college boy choso *sighs* *opens legs*

a/n: just so you know, this man is gonna make you do all the hard work for a piece of that loser boy dick 😮‍💨 so... um so at some point around 2000 words in i realised this is way more than a hc post :3 eat it up if you will!

nerdy!choso who borderline has no friends except his gaming buddies who doesnt meet irl like ever. he doesnt like going to classes, especially this one. he doesnt need it but it's a requirement for all first years. and boy is glad it is when he sees you come in.

nerdy!choso who only listens to discussions when you're talking. suddenly he needs to put down his headphones and nod at every word you're saying. his eyes follow every gesture of your hand, every sway of your ass, every single time you fix your hair.

nerdy!choso who is starting to get a bit enamored with you, your style, your way of speaking. he loses track of time gawking at you in class from the last benches as you prettily do all the work in the class. he hates how beautifully your hair falls on your face, how nicely your clothes fit you despite being pretty modest for college. he hates how he can see the silhouette of your tits when you turn to the side. but he's too much of a gentleman to keep looking.

nerdy!choso who ends a game early when he remembers you, lying and saying that he had promised someone to meet them somewhere. the place is his bathroom and the person was you. god, you really shouldn't wear those tight jeans to class y'know? how will he continue to be a gentleman if you do?

nerdy!choso who despises groupwork but prays to dear god this class has some reason to pair you two together. he's getting so desperate to talk to you knowing damn well he too pussy to do it on his own. and the lord answers his prayers, the teacher assigns groups of three for a presentation. it's you, him and some slacking trust fund baby.

nerdy!choso who is about to combust and have a full blown panic attack when he sees you approach him after class with that smile on your face that would make the angels swoon. you're going on about distributing the work equally and what not while he is trying his fucking hardest to not accidently make eye contact with you and piss his pants : (

nerdy!choso who now has your name, your number and your email and he feels like the happiest man on earth. his hands are literally shaking as he responds to your request to call. he's overthinking every word he types.

choso: yeah i can do wednesday. choso: i'll be okay with whatever day you want.

nerdy!choso who hops on video call and short circuits with a view of you in an oversized band tee and a brief view of your room. why did you have to be this pretty? why did you have to video call him when you couldve done the work on text? why did you have to put your hair up like that? why oh why did you have you say "choso? hey, you there?" so seductively to bring him back to the present?

nerdy!choso who gets like no work done in a 30 minute call which felt like three hours. he knew he would hardly be paying attention so decided to record the call with your consent, saying he'd need the notes you were typing out on screen only to play it back and stroke his dick to you for what might've have been the twentieth time this week. his strokes only getting faster as you say his name in that voice he imagines sounds way better moaning and screaming it instead.

nerdy!choso who, after the presentation, is on greeting terms with you when he sees you studying in the library. he sits as far away from you as he can while still being able to see you. occupying the coziest corner of the library to stare at you study right when you come up to him.

"can i join you, choso? i'm all alone and your space seems comfy" you say with a smile, "of course, i dont mean to disturb you, is saw you were on your own too, so..."

uh oh, uh oh, uh oh. god no. please no. please dont say yes. please dont be staring at her like some dumb idiot (too late) please.

"uh... yeah sure why not?" he awkwardly says as he makes room for you to keep your things. he was such an idiot for thinking he could say no to your pretty face in the first place.

nerdy!choso who is absolutely drunk on your scent. it feels way better than any alcohol he's ever had. he feels like an animal in heat when he smells your sugary perfume mixed with the styrofoam-y air conditioned smell of the library. you're gonna kill him, yknow? how is he supposed to respond to this? what is one to do when their stupid college crush sits next to them? he gives you a half smile before furiously typing away on reddit, the only place with answers for losers like him.

nerdy!choso whose hands. oh his hands. (can be i a big whore for a second?) his long hands that feel like they're the size of your face. his kempt, beautiful and trimmed nails. his lengthy fingers that seem to yearn for something more to foddle with than just the keyboard or controller. he typed as such an insane pace it made your pussy ache. he was going so fast, jesus. those hands were meant to do more than just ask "how to talk to girls" on reddit.

nerdy!choso who (on the advice of reddit) asks if you would want him to order something for you. you tell you had a frappuccino not too long ago and that it was quite sweet and filling. and he hates himself for thinking that he could give you something much sweeter and filling than that like a horny fourteen year old.

nerdy!choso who is now determined to not come off as a creep so he does his work with the focus of four adderalls. he is typing as fast as his heartbeat, not realising he got two classes worth of work done in just an hour. he looks over at you, blissfully unaware of the absolute war in his mind.

nerdy!choso who feels as though if he doesn't muster up the courage to ask you out right then and there, he'll probably be the biggest loser on the planet. (as if he wasn't already)

nerdy! pathetic! choso who stutters a million times and barely gets the job done then too. his eyes are scanning your entire being (trying his best to not gawk at your tits) for any sign of discomfort.

"so- uhh so ummm... wo-would you, like, uh... like to do this again? sometime?... i got a.. a lot of work done today, so.."

oh heavens, the sheer nervousness in his tone makes you want to pull his pants down and show him how to really get work done.

you agree with a smile, even suggesting a better, more ambient (more romantic) cafe to study in. choso's heart is about to burst and flood the fucking library with his blood the way it is beating at an alarming rate.

"umm yeah uh 5 sounds... awesome... i hope it isn't a-a bother to you?" "no way, choso. i loved today," you offer him a smile as you gather your things, "i really like your hair, by the way" "i like your hair too, y-y-you smell very nice", he gulps.

fuck. why did he say that? what? you smell nice? who says that? is he like ten? you can't help but giggle at the sheer embarassment on his face.

he feels as though he's gonna melt into a puddle and turn to stone and throw up all at the same time.

nerdy!choso who is the most stupidly hot guy you've ever met, you think as you go giggling back to your dorm. mental note: pick a skimpy outfit for 5pm ;)

[sweetlurr]

[luvseraphh]

ᯓ★ shy girl

shy girl k. bakugo

in which a continuation of this drabble

notes fluff , fem reader

katsuki sighed, his hair clipped back and a green mask on his face, his girlfriend sitting on the bed next to him in matching attire. her eyes were on the movie on the screen, oblivious to his stare.

"hey, pretty?" he finally speaks up, his hand grazing her arm.

"yeah?" she replies, turning to look at him.

"you're an idiot," he gruffly mumbles, pressing his lips to hers, his actions contradicting his words.

"and you're kissing an idiot," she playfully retorts.

"i have bad taste," he rolls his eyes.

"you have great taste," she corrects with a giggle.

"i have great taste," he confirms, pressing his lips to her's again.

[littlelamy]

squirting w/ rafe??

lamy notes: 😮‍💨

his fingers are soaked, drenched, and he looks absolutely gone over it. half-lidded eyes, lips parted, hair messy from where you’ve been tugging at it, chest rising and falling like he’s trying to pace himself when all he really wants to do is ruin you.

"jesus, baby," he murmurs, dragging his fingers up through your slick, teasing over your clit in slow, torturous circles before slipping them back inside you, all the way to the knuckle. "you feel that? so wet for me."

you do. it's so much, so overwhelming, your skin hot and sticky, your thighs trembling where they spread open for him. he's been working you open for what feels like forever—coaxing, pushing, playing—and he knows exactly what he's doing. he can feel how close you are, how you're clenching around him, how you're already on the edge and trying so hard not to fall.

his smirk is pure sin. "ohh, that’s good, huh? getting all tight on me—fuck. you're gonna come again, aren't you?"

you can’t even answer, can barely breathe past the way your stomach is clenching, the way heat is building and building and—

"c'mon, pretty girl," he coaxes, curling his fingers inside you just right, rubbing that spot that makes your vision go white. "let me see it."

you feel it.

your back arches, a sharp little cry breaking past your lips as the pleasure overtakes you, as something deep inside you releases all at once, gushing down his wrist, slicking up his palm.

"oh, fuck," rafe chokes out, delighted, wrecked, watching it happen, watching you fall apart in a way neither of you were expecting. "oh my god."

then—he grins.

his free hand grips your thigh, holds you down as he pulls his fingers out, as he leans in, as he puts his face directly in front of the mess spilling out of you.

his mouth opens—his tongue—he's so shameless about it, lets the wetness splash against his skin, laughing when a stray drop lands on his cheek, tilting his head back like he's standing in the fucking rain.

"oh, baby," he groans, wiping his soaked face with the back of his hand, eyes blown, lips curved. "you just made my whole fucking night."

taglist: @namelesslosers @maybanksangel @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @rafesheaven @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @rafesangelita @rafedaddy01 @bakugouswaif @skywalker0809 @vanessa-rafesgirl @evermorx89 @outerhills @ditzyzombiesblog @slavicangelmuah @alivinggirl @rafesgreasycurtainbangs @rafesbabygirlx @drewsephrry @lil-sparklqueen

[madsfrank]

Imagine Simon beating himself up over you…

It’s late at night in the barracks, the task force had almost lost you to a bullet wound embedded in your side, another hour without treatment and you would have been lost for good. You lie in your quarters, having been treated and given fluids that you needed to live, when suddenly you hear a heavy knocking at the metal door.

It’s Simon, his knuckles are bloody from hours using a punching bag without thinking, his mask halfway on his face to reveal him as a panting mess still sweaty with effort. With your permission, he cracks open the door halfway, just to stare out at you in the faint glow of the room.

“You can come in Si, I can’t see you like that.”

He shuts the door softly. Afraid to rouse you anymore from needed sleep. Once enveloped in the darkness you were using to rest, he is dragging himself over to you and leaning over your frame in a manner far too intense for you in such a state.

“Si? What’s wrong?”

As you reach your hand up to his masked jaw, he suddenly takes your wrist in a heavy grip and forces your hand on his cheek.

He says nothing yet, closing his eyes to the touch and letting his breathing slow as he reminds himself you are alive….he had lost himself in hours of training and needed to remind himself that the mission was not a total failure, you were alive.

He would prefer it if you punched him, let him know how foolish it was to let you slip away from him, let him know it was all his fault and—

Instead he settles for breathing you in, muttering that he’s glad you didn’t leave, but the muttering becomes more of a groan as you try to pull him to bed with you, mewling at your gentle touch.

He’d prefer not to be seen like this, but then why would he have come to your room, other than to fall into your embrace and remind himself he’s grounded.

As he lies with you, he tells himself that someday soon he’ll take the mask off, only for you. You’re the only one that can see him like this.

With that thought, he lets himself drift off with you.

౨ৎ-Masterlist

[mikayuuyuri]

　ᘛ꒰ྀི ◞ ◟ ꒱ྀིᘚ　　Raw　Rentry　Resources　Dump

no credit needed when using found off pinterest and other sites

[cameronsbabydoll]

scc!reader tagging along to the gym with scc!rafe after their first baby 𐙚⋆.˚

warnings: condescending behavior, postpartum depression, belittling

you hear the garage door open before you even make it down the stairs.

rafe’s already in his gym clothes, car keys dangling from his fingers, the shaker bottle in his other hand filled with some dark green protein mess. he’s got that usual morning scowl on, the one you used to think was hot, but lately just makes your stomach twist.

you’re standing barefoot by the kitchen counter, still in your soft pajama shorts and nursing tank, your hair barely brushed, baby monitor humming beside you. but you’ve been planning this — all morning. waiting for the perfect time.

“wait,” you call out softly, slipping your feet into your tennis shoes, “can i come with you?”

he pauses at the door, glancing back. “to the gym?”

you nod. already going to grab your water bottle, your tote bag. you'd put on your new workout set after the last feed, light pink and snug — something small and girlish, just to feel like yourself again. it’s your first time leaving the baby for more than ten minutes. you thought maybe… he’d be happy to have you along.

instead he gives you that look. the one that scrunches his brows and flattens his mouth, like he doesn’t want to argue but also doesn’t want to deal with whatever this is.

“you sure?” he asks, but not kindly. “you looked dead tired this morning.”

you fumble with your zipper. “i just wanna get out for a little. move around. i haven’t— i mean, i think it’ll help.”

“you gonna cry if i say no?” he says with a smirk, like it’s a joke, but it isn’t funny. not to you.

you freeze at the doorway, blinking fast, heart beating in your ears. “i won’t get in the way.”

he sighs and starts walking toward the garage again. “you comin’ or not? i’m not gonna be late ‘cause you forgot somethin’.”

you trail after him, cheeks hot, throat tight, stomach still sore from the c-section scar that hasn't quite healed right. and when you finally settle into the passenger seat — fresh-faced, trying to be chatty, knees pressed together — he’s already adjusting the rearview mirror, sipping his drink.

“you bringin’ that cute lil’ baby dumbbell again?” he mumbles.

you pause. “it’s… it’s three pounds.”

“real intense workout,” he murmurs. smirking like it’s sweet. like it’s nothing.

you don’t answer. you just turn your head toward the window, watching the houses blur past. your chest hurts — with the ache of all the things you haven’t said since the baby came. how you’re only twenty-three. how you’re still just a girl. how your whole life used to be ballet and iced coffees and pinterest boards, and now it’s feeding schedules and pumping bras and being told to “rest” while your husband gets to leave.

you grip the edge of the seat as he turns sharply into the gym lot. you want to ask if he’s embarrassed of you. if he didn’t think you’d be soft like this. if he wishes you stayed the way you were before. but your voice gets lost somewhere behind your lips.

“don’t pout,” he mutters, nudging your thigh. “you wanted to come.”

you nod. blinking fast. lips trembling as you unbuckle.

you follow him inside, smaller than you used to be, somehow, even in your new leggings and matching top. the gym is bright and cold and full of mirrors — and you look like a girl pretending not to cry. like a wife pretending to belong.

[satsugo]

୨୧ postpartum. the baby’s asleep. gojo misses you — all of you. mlist

i wanted this to feel like healing and hunger at the same time — soft praise, quiet obsession, and the kind of love that worships stretch marks and leaking skin. to anyone who’s ever felt unseen after giving everything: this one’s for you ♡

gojo satoru x reader

minors do not interact. this piece is intended for 18+ audiences. contains the following: postpartum body discussion, lactation kink, oral (fem receiving), soft obsession/yandere undertones, extreme tenderness, possessive praise, emotional vulnerability, and light breeding talk.

The baby is finally asleep.

Swaddled tight in his bassinet, little sighs puffing from his nose. One hand peeking out, tiny fingers twitching in dreamland.

And for the first time in what feels like forever, you sit down. A soft blanket draped over your lap. Shirt still unbuttoned from the last feed. Your body aches — warm and sore, stretched and softened in places you’re still learning to accept.

The apartment is quiet.

Until you hear the soft pad of bare feet and the quiet click of the bathroom door opening. Gojo steps out, shirtless, damp towel slung around his neck, hair dripping in soft silver waves. He smells like soap and warmth and everything safe. But the look in his eyes?

Starving.

He sees you — shirt rumpled, breast slightly exposed, stretch marks tracing your hips, belly still swollen and tender — and stops cold in the doorway. His expression shifts, like something in his chest just cracked open.

“...You’re fucking stunning.”

You scoff under your breath, self-conscious. “I haven’t even showered. I smell like spit-up and milk. My hair—”

“Stop.”

His voice cuts through, low and rough — like it hurts him to hear you speak that way about yourself.

He walks over slow. Like you’re sacred. Like he’s afraid to touch something so breakable.

Then he kneels in front of you, both hands coming to rest gently on your thighs, warm and grounding. His thumbs rub slow, reverent circles into your skin.

“Do you even know what you’ve done?” he whispers, looking up at you like you hung the damn stars. “You made our son. With your body. You carried him, fed him, loved him. Every single part of you right now—” his palm smooths over your belly, still soft, still healing “—is the most beautiful fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”

Your throat tightens. You blink hard, trying not to cry.

“You’re gonna make me cry,” you whisper.

He smiles. Kisses your forehead, then your cheek, then the corner of your mouth.

“I already did,” he murmurs. “You should’ve seen me holding him in the hospital. I was a wreck.”

You laugh softly, burying your face in his damp hair as he leans in.

But when his lips trail lower—down your neck, across your collarbone, brushing the swell of your breast—you feel it. That familiar ache. That low, pulsing need you’ve ignored for weeks.

His hand slides under the blanket, up your belly. His thumb grazes under the curve of your breast, then stills.

“You’re leaking,” he whispers, gaze fixed on the tiny droplet forming at your nipple.

Your breath catches.

“I should go pump—”

“No,” he says, voice husky. “Don’t move.”

“Toru—what are you—”

“Let me.”

Before you can argue, his lips wrap around your nipple. Tongue warm, mouth soft and full. He licks the droplet away, then sucks — gentle, slow, reverent.

A gasp escapes you.

The stimulation is instant — not just physical, but deep, like something in you that’s been aching finally gives way. You whimper, thighs twitching beneath the blanket as he nurses with slow, deliberate care. Not for milk — but for you.

“Still so sensitive,” he murmurs, switching sides. “You were made for this. Look at you. Feeding our baby… and still tasting so sweet.”

Your fingers thread into his hair, the other hand gripping the edge of the blanket. Your whole body trembles, not from exhaustion this time — from the low burn of pleasure spreading under your skin.

“I’ve missed you,” you whisper.

He looks up, lips wet, pupils dark.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about you,” he replies. “Every night you held him, every time you fell asleep in that rocking chair—I wanted you so bad I couldn’t fucking breathe.”

He rises slowly and lifts you like you weigh nothing.

“Toru—wait—”

“I know,” he murmurs. “You’re healing. I’m not gonna rush you.”

He lays you down gently, blanket falling away. Presses soft, patient kisses to your thighs. His mouth trails lower, until his tongue grazes your skin with aching tenderness.

“I just wanna love you,” he breathes. “Every inch. Every part. Nothing rough. Just this.”

Then he devours you — slow, deep, worshipful.

His hands grip your hips but never hold tight. His tongue moves with precision and reverence, drawing soft cries from your lips and tremors from your thighs. You try to stay quiet — the baby — but it’s no use. He’s too good. He always is.

When you come, it’s with a sobbed-out breath, your fingers curled into his hair, your chest shaking with relief.

He kisses your inner thigh, then crawls up beside you and gathers you into his arms.

One hand finds your breast again. His thumb gently strokes another tiny stream of milk.

“You’re gonna hate me for saying this,” he mutters, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“What now?”

He grins.

“…I already wanna knock you up again.”

You swat his shoulder. “Satoru—”

“I’m serious,” he hums against your neck. “I wanna fill you again. Watch you grow. Glow. Leak. Carry.”

“You’re absolutely insane.”

“Nah. I’m just in love,” he says. “Obsessed. And never getting over this body.”

He glances at the bassinet, where your son sighs in his sleep.

“We made him. With this.” His hand slides down to stroke your belly. “So yeah… I want more. As many as you’ll give me.”

You sigh, still catching your breath, still glowing from his touch.

“…Give me at least six months.”

His eyes gleam, wicked.

“Deal. But I’m not pulling out once.”

satsugo 2025 © all rights reserved; do not plagiarize, translate, or repost my writing.

[elysian-fawn]

꒰ 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍 : 𝒅𝒆𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒚 ! ꒱ ๑  ۫ ִ   ࣪ ₊

꒰ 𐙚 ꒱ 𝓎𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝗑𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗒 𝗍𝗈 𝖺𝗇 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖼𝖺𝗎𝗌𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝖻𝗋𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 , 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗆 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗉𝖾𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝗌𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗅𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆 𝗋𝖾𝗀𝖺𝗋𝖽𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗋𝗈𝗈𝗆 , 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗌𝗆𝗂𝗅𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖼𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗈𝗇𝖾’𝗌 𝖿𝖺𝖼𝖾. 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗅𝗒 𝗆𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝖾 𝗐𝗁𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖿𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗌 “𝖻𝖺𝗆𝖻𝗂” 𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗋 𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗇𝗂𝖼𝗄𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 ‹𝟹

꒰ 𐙚 ꒱ 𝓎𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗋𝗎𝗌𝗍𝗐𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗁𝗒 𝗉𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 , 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽’𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝖾𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝖺𝗀𝗈 𝖺𝗅𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗒 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅 𝖺𝗍 𝖾𝖺𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖽𝖾𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗄𝗇𝗈𝗐𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝖾𝗍

꒰ 𐙚 ꒱ 𝓎𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝗒𝗌𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅 𝖾𝗆𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗂𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂𝗇𝗇𝗈𝖼𝖾𝗇𝗍. 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖺𝗎𝗋𝖺 𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗈 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍, 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝗌𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗋𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝗈 𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗂𝖼𝗎𝗅𝗈𝗎𝗌𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗏𝗈𝗄𝖾 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗐𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗌𝖾 𝖺𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎

꒰ 𐙚 ꒱ 𝓉𝗁𝖾 𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀, 𝖿𝗅𝗎𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗒 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁𝖾𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗆𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖽𝗈𝖾 𝖾𝗒𝖾𝗌 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝖽𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗏𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖾𝖽𝗀𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋𝖾. 𝗉𝖾𝗈𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿𝗍𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝗏𝖾𝗌 𝖽𝗋𝖺𝗐𝗇 𝗂𝗇𝗍𝗈 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗀𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺 𝗆𝗈𝗍𝗁 𝗍𝗈 𝖺 𝖿𝗅𝖺𝗆𝖾, 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖽𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝗁𝖺𝗋𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝗄𝖾𝖾𝗉 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗂𝗋 𝗍𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝖺𝗅𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒’𝗋𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗁𝗒𝗉𝗇𝗈𝗍𝗂𝗓𝖾𝖽

꒰ 𐙚 ꒱ 𝓎𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗍𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝗇𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗆𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋, 𝖺𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝗍𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗅𝗎𝗆𝗌𝗒 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗑𝖼𝗂𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝖿𝖺𝗐𝗇 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗅𝗂𝗍 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝖽𝗈𝗐

꒰ 𐙚 ꒱ 𝓎𝗈𝗎'𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗈 𝗇𝖺𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗍𝗒, 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝖾𝖺𝗎𝗍𝗒 𝗂𝗌 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗍𝗌 𝗈𝗐𝗇 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗅𝗆 𝗈𝖿 𝖾𝗑𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗇𝖼𝖾. 𝗇𝗈 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗁𝖺𝗌 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖺𝗀𝖾𝖽 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗂𝖽𝗅𝗒 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝖺𝗌 𝗍𝗁𝗈𝗎𝗀𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝖺𝗓𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖽𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆, 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝖼𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗇𝗍𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝖼𝗋𝗈𝗌𝗌 𝖺 𝖽𝖾𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗂𝖽𝖽𝗅𝖾 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝖼𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗌 𝗂𝗍'𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗇𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗈𝗅𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗇

[hwizou]

Random stuff in myi gallery dump 。。。。

[rafesangelita]

so anyway I was thinking about something about bitchy!Kook!reader (since she's my ultimate favorite)

maybe rafe has gifted her a promise ring at some point in their relationship, and despite all their highs and lows, even in their worst nights, she has NEVER taken it off

and maybe they are in a heated argument and they're mad at each other (but not broken up, just mad) and they are attending a party and he notices that she isn't wearing it, so he loses his absolute shit and drags her somewhere, making a scene and telling her how much he cares about her (in his own way, ofc) and how hurt he is until she simply smirks and tells him that she's taken it off because she's getting it cleaned up

-🦉

warnings: arguing, slight angst, light fluff

a/n: join my private community for girly talks! ♡ you can comment under this post, send me a message, or leave something in my ask box for an invitation!

“can you fix your face? ‘at least try to act like you want to be here with me right now?” rafe whispered in your ear, a slight pinch of irritation lacing his tone. you swallowed thickly, flashing him a glare as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders so he wouldn’t draw any unnecessary attention towards you two. “i told you i wanted to leave a long time ago and instead of wrapping things up, you disappeared for another drink. i’ve been sitting here on this couch with you for over two hours now, listening to your idiot friends talk about their latest escapades. how about you fix your fucking face?”

rafe looked around to make sure no one caught any of the words that just left your mouth, his jaw clenching as he gripped you by the back of your neck. “is that how you’re gonna act right now? that’s what we’re doing?” at this, you trailed a hand down rafe’s stomach, your nails digging into his flesh hard enough to make him hiss and let go of you. “grab me like that again and i’ll leave your ass in front of everybody.” rafe knew that wasn’t an empty threat, considering you’ve already done it before and topper still hasn’t let him live the embarrassment down.

rafe gave you a curt nod, his eyes raking down your form before they rested on your bare fingers. “what the fuck?” he spoke out loud, the group conversation coming to a halt. without another word, rafe got up, dragging you along with him as he guided you two outside to his truck. “oh, now you wanna go home?” you scoffed, managing to pull away from him before he hoisted you into the passenger’s seat, his body wedged between the door as he took ahold of your hands. “i know we’ve been fighting a lot recently, and i’m sure we get on each other’s nerves all the time, but taking off your ring? are you fucking serious?”

your eyebrows knitted in confusion, your mouth barely opening before rafe started going on a rampage. “i bought you that ring to uphold a promise to you, y/n, and i’ve kept it. through all of our bullshit, through all of our problems, through damn near everything; you’ve never taken that ring off. even when we were close to leaving each other once and for all, you were still wearing it. that ring saved us, and now? you’re just giving up like that?” rafe sounded pained, his voice dropping slightly as his chest rose and fell in uneven breaths. “rafe—” you tried to interject again, but still he continued.

“i love you, and i know i fucking suck at showing it, but you know i do. you’re the only person who puts up with my shit and still loves me as i am. you work with me even though i make it really hard, and you don’t throw my mistakes in my face every chance you get. you’re patient with me when i least deserve it.. i could go on and on about everything you do for me.. please just put your ring back on.” you weren’t expecting rafe to pour his heart out to you, your anger from earlier dissipating into nothing as your gaze softened. “i can’t—” rafe groaned, kneeling down onto the step bar of the truck as he held your hands to his chest.

“why?!” you couldn’t help but laugh, your resolve crumbling as rafe looked up at you desperately. “what’s so funny? i’m literally about to have a panic attack right now.” you laughed harder, shaking your head. “rafe, i’m getting my ring cleaned! i’ve been trying to tell you since you dragged me out here but you kept interrupting me.” your boyfriend let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, his shoulders falling in relief. “when did you take it?” you helped him off his knees, rolling your eyes as he pulled you into his embrace. “remember, i told you i was going to the mall with chanel? i dropped it off there and i’m supposed to go back for it tomorrow..”

rafe nodded, his hands running up and down your back. “well, we better get you another ring for when you’re getting the other one cleaned. i can’t have you giving me heart attacks like that.”