#simp reader

[yukiko-istired]

When you realize kabukimono had his awakening as kunikuzushi after his 3rd betrayal which would've been (to my knowledge) AT LEAST 100 years before they could reunite as Kabuki turned into the balladeer, which means mans dipped for at a minimum of a 100 years and reader searched for him all that time, meaning reader wanted that cookie BAD😭😭😭 (no- cause I would too if it was scaramouche)

(Reader is immortal)

I can imagine Scara being embarrassed of his past sex obsessed self, Kabukimono, he claims that he is so much better than that now, and much more mature, that is what he tells his subordinates. He is such a liar.

If only his subordinates knew that Scara still begs for your cock almost everyday.

If only his subordinates knew that he jerks himself off at the thought of you, and owns various dildos that he always imagines are you.

If only his subordinates knew just how much of a cock slut their leader was before and how he is a bigger slut now.

If only his subordinates knew that he moans and cries like a cheap whore when you fuck him with just the tip of your cock.

If only his subordinates knew just how crazy he gets when he sees the bulge on his stomach that is formed by your cock and begs for more.

Moral of the story, is that Scara is a slut. He was before, and he still is now.

[Thirst]!

anon you are heavensent !! adsfkjhkjgh my brain can't handle this so i sprinkled a bit of angst teehee >:)

let's say that reader thought they lost kabukimono, stumbles upon scaramouche who was on a mission. you didn't hold back, you cried for him, running and embracing him, twirling him around in your arms in happiness as you tell him that you missed him, that you've been wandering the entirety of teyvat in search of him. as you were lost in your feelings, scaramouche was at awe. you kept looking for him? even if he left you for your own good? and here you are, embracing as you've now found him, out of all times. he was happy really! but this wasn't the right time! he planned to reach godhood then find you, to finally reunite with you once again once he's stronger, better.

while all this was going on, his subordinates stare in shock as some random person just shouted out in happiness and hugged their lord? does this fool not know what the hell they're doing? they know so much as glancing the wrong at scaramouche would send them early to their graves, so the absolute horror seeing being so casual and intimate with scaramouche was amusing. scara snapped out of his trance, immediate trying to pull away from you. you notice and frown, "darling? is there something—", "shhhh! be quiet for a bit!" he slaps his hand over your mouth and glare over his shoulder, eyes deadly glaring at his subordinates. "well? what are you waiting for? get back to work! if a word about this gets out, you'll never hear the end of it." they all scramble away, already fearing for their lives. after he's sure everyone has left, he turns back to you and finally hugs you back. he missed you so much.. your face, you kisses, you touch.. he misses them all and he is just as overjoyed as you are.

although, you were confused. what happened to your kabukimono? why did he shout out to those soldiers? spat out such cruel words? you let him go and set him down, about to ask him what happened to him before he grabs your hand and drags you to his private quarters, saying that you two can talk there. he knows you already had questions and he was nervous but he hoped you'd understand. after you two settled down next to one another, you began to ask him questions; where has he been? why did he leave you so suddenly? and why did he act so differently, so mean? "kabukimono, you've changed." you cupped his cheek, worry in your features. he melts to your touch and takes a deep breath, answering your questions. he explains to you his plans to obtain a gnosis and reach godhood, he explained once he became a god, he'll find you, so both of you can be together. he told you how he felt weak and that the betrayals he's experienced made a fire of helplessness burn inside him, he hated it.

"[name], i am no longer kabukimono. i have long dispose of this identity of weakness. i am now scaramouche, the sixth of the fatui harbingers."

to say you were devastated was an understatement, you were completely shattered. your kabukimono was gone? the boy you love was now a different person, discarded his entirety just like that. scaramouche sees the sadness that lingered in your face, he knew what you felt. you sweet, caring, naïve kabukimono was gone and you tried to wrap your head around it. were you not good enough? had you done something to have him utterly leave you alone with the memories you shared? had you not tried to protect and strengthen him in this cruel world?

"so.. this whole time of me wandering every nation in search of you no— kabukimono, was all for naught?" oh, how the feeling in his chest felt crushed when you said those words. silence falls for a moment, none of you talking as the situation comes crashing down. "i have changed for the better, [name]. i am no longer the weak, naïve,—" his face flushes, "sex obsessed boy you once knew.. i swore that human needs won't get in the way of my plans..", "if the sex was overwhelming you, you could've told me.." you muttered in response, "i can't tell you what you can't and can do, tell you what you should do or shouldn't do.. but, you can't just have left me like that, you know? when i found out you were, i waited. hours turn in to days, days turn in to months, months turn in to years. i caved in to emptiness. you were all and everything to me and hurt me that you were gone from my life just like that."

tears were flowing down your face and and caress his cheek, knowing that this will be the last time you'll see him. "then.. i won't get in your way. i understand on what your goal is and why you changed.. so.. i believe this will be the last time we'll ever be together." he felt fear go through his body, last time? "[n-name], you misunderstand—" you can't go, he can't let you go. he didn't think this through, he thought disposing of himself as kabukimono and becoming the balladeer, scaramouche, will free him of shackles human emotion. but why is it he can't let you go?

you get up and stand in front of him before he grabs your clothes as if trying to stop you from leaving. "i must go.. my journey to find my lover has come to an end, as he is no longer here. i apologize for disturbing you." he cries out and shakes his head, don't treat him this way! he wraps his arms around your neck and pulls you close, refusing to let you go. he begins to sob into you clothes, "nonono, [name], you can't leave! i—" he swallows the lump in his throat. "i am afraid of becoming kabukimono again.. i don't want to be weak, i don't want to entangle you living a life of eternity with someone who cannot handle himself. if i become weak, then i'll crumble.."

you hug him tighter and comfort him as he cries out to you, hands roaming all over you as if you'll disappear if he lets go. "please.. stay with me.." he cups your cheek and kiss you, "if you stay.. i'll be kabukimono once again, just for you.. so please, don't go."

you ended up staying, even you can't leave him even if you say so. scaramouche ended up having to make up a story so that you'll be able to stay by his side. he told his subordinates that you were his right hand and they were to follow your orders or they were as good as dead. of course, you struggled at first doing pretending (you were a crafter, tf do you do carrying out orders a bunch of fatuis?) but after time, you began to get used to it as you were treated just as supreme as scaramouche.

remember when scaramouche said he's changed? in front of the fatui, you both were just lord and his right hand. but behind closed says otherwise.

so imagine your surprise when he can't get his hands off of you, pawing and whining for you. once his subordinates has left the room after a meeting, he jumps on you, mumbling how he needs something from you and how he needs it now. he unbuckles your pants, drooling down at your already hard cock. "someone seems desperate, huh?" he huffs, lapping up down you shaft. "you can't keep this away from me, [name], that's just mean."

you would be sent away for missions (much to both of your dismay) and he would be left absolutely frustrated without you. you only let him get a taste of your cock in his mouth and never cum inside, always finishing off on his face (you're petty like that lol) and even if he lets you, you know he is displeased because of the way his nails dig down your thighs. while he works, he thinks of you and your cock. he would rub his thighs together to try and get some relief to no avail. he would stomp his way to his private quarters that he shares with you (his subordinates averts their eyes whenever you come out of his room instead of your own) and toss himself to the bed, grabbing a pillow that was yours and bury his face in it, inhaling your scent. damn you and the godforsaken mission you were doing, he shouldn't have sent you away so he could've had you in his bed instead, fucking him into oblivion.

he undresses and grabs a box under the bed and digs out a dildo closest to your size, he just can't take it anymore! he begged your cock to be inside him before you left, saying how he missed it but instead just used his mouth, teasing him how he said he was a changed man and that sex without you shouldn't bother him (it does). he laps the dildo up, coating it in his saliva and shoving it into his mouth while he teases his hole with his fingers. lewd noises echo in his room as toys with himself, wishing it was you who was doing it. he then shoves the dildo inside him, squealing at the sensation before thrusting it in and out in a fast pace, his impatience getting the better of him. he needs to cum.

"hgnnngh—fhuck! [name], [name]♡! fuck me, please— nghh, haa♡! harder!", "yesyes— fhuuuuck! yes, right there♡! " no matter how the dildo hits his prostate, no matter how fast and hard he shoves it deep inside him, he can't cum without you.

and when you came back? oh, you were in it for a ride. literally.

he drags you back into your shared bedroom, kissing you roughly and almost tearing off your clothes and his. he pushes you the bed and straddles you, lustful eyes eying your body as you grab his hips and grind him down on your cock making him moan. "[naaame].. you'll fuck me, right? just how i like it? you'll fuck my hole nice and deep, right?", he drags his hands across his chest, tempting you as he flicks and pinches his nipples. "hmm, i don't know, scara." you tease. he whines, eyes glaring at you with a pout on his lips, don't call him that! "mind you, you've changed." you grab your cock and align it with his hole, teasing it. he tries to grind back down on you, to fully put in your dick inside him but you stop him, you grip on his hip tightening. "don't." you rock your his back and forth, only letting your tip inside him and he sobs, wiggling his hips to try to get you fully inside him. "[name] unghh—! don't.. don't tease! please put it inside! i need your dick in me, please!"

was fucking his hole finally after years of waiting worth it? every second of it. skin slapping and scara's moans reverberates in the room, your hips plunging back and forth in his ass. "don't stop— fhuuuck! fuck! don't stop♡!", "your cock hgnnnh— fhuck! it's all the way in my stomach♡! moremoremore♡!" you can feel him clench around you as you fasten his pace, knowing his orgasm is fast approaching. you're making him see stars, his back arching as your cock his prostate continuously. "make me cum, please, unghh— make me cum! i want to cum♡!", "go on ahead, kabukimono. go ahead and cum like the slut you are." and his body shakes uncontrollably, his orgasm overwhelming him as his dick spurts out cum. he cries out, your thrusts unrelenting and not stopping, his nails scratching you back and legs wrapping around your waist. "ooooohhhh— yes♡! i'm your slut, [name]! fuck me like one, fuck your slut, [name]♡!".

such a fucking slut.

guys i lied why is the angst longer lol JDFKASDGH keep ya'll thirsts coming everyone i'm drooling at your brains <33

[reneesghostinthelivingroom]

Can we get a drabble for Gretchen x Reader where Gretchen is talking reader’s ear off about the new student (Cady) and reader is just staring at her beauty. Gretchen eventually notices and is all high and mighty about it “Did you even hear what I said?”

#QueenofYap

|| Gretchen Wieners x nonbinary!reader

|| Warnings; nothing really, just fluff and Gretchen yapping about Cady while reader simps, short ish drabble

|| Summary; when Gretchen tells reader about Cady, they don't fully listen.

Requests closed!

Started; November 21st

Finished; November 21st

~~~

You were sure Gretchen had to be talking about something. Right? She almost always was, especially with you. Gretchen was like... the #QueenofYap. Her lips were moving so you knew she had to be saying something. You thought maybe she had said the word Cady. But you weren't 100%.

Her beauty had you captivated. The way Gretchen's lips moved, how her eyes lit up whenever she spoke to you. The faint blush forever present on her cheeks. The movements of her hands. You paid attention to it all. All expect for what she was saying.

"Cady's actually starting to remind me a lot of Reg-" She stopped and looked at you. Noticing for the first time that you, in fact, seemed totally distant. Yet like you were paying attention to her at the same time? Just not in the way Gretchen wanted you to be. She rolled her eyes and smiled, adjusting a bit to be looking right into your eyes. Your eyes met hers, but you still seemed to just stare.

Did Gretchen stop talking? You weren't sure, but you didn't care. You gave her an automatic response, something like an 'uh huh' and 'oh yeah' which sealed the deal for Gretchen. She knew you did that when you weren't really listening. But were instead distracted by something else.

"Babe?" Gretchen chuckled, her hand lightly brushing your hair out of your face and behind your ear. Her touch was always light. Almost feather like. You loved it. Subconsciously leaning into her hand. When she noticed, she didn't pull her hand away. Instead cupping your cheek to give you more," you there, handsome?" Gretchen teased.

"Mhm... sounds good.." Another automatic response. Yeah, you were a goner. Gretchen laughed again and leaned forward. Keeping her hand to your cheek as she kissed you. It didn't matter to her that the two of you were in the cafeteria. With quite a few people around you. It was a free period, you and Gretchen had decided to stay at the school instead of sneaking off like you normally do.

Your lip caught up before your brain did. Moving in sync along with Gretchen's, a small hum of content leaving you. Creating a soft vibration that Gretchen just loved. She loved how responsive you were to her, the little sounds you always made. As the kiss broke, you blinked a bit. Slowly sinking back into reality. Away from your Gretchen daydreams. Though they still lingered in the back of your mind, they always did.

"There you are," Gretchen smiled when she noticed the look return to your eyes. How you seemed to be listening to her words now instead of just staring at her.

"Hi..." You murmured, a bit of a sheepish smile on your lips. Your eyes meeting hers. Gazes soft and full of love for the other.

"Hi.." Gretchen replied, hand removing from your cheek. Only to be placed on your knee instead," Did you even hear what I said?" She couldn't help but find the whole thing amusing.

"Um... no, no not really. Did you say Cady?" You asked, Gretchen smiled and nodded. Okay, maybe you were paying attention just a little. But she was sure it was only because you read her lips and didn't actually hear her.

"I was telling you about her, yeah." Gretchen kissed your forehead and you slumped your body against her. Snuggling right up to your favourite yapper.

"You can talk about her some more, I'll listen this time." You looked up at her as your head rested to your chest. She smiled and continued telling you all about Cady.

[yukiko-istired]

Hi! I'm Yuki and I'm planning a Scaramouche x Dom!Male!Reader, Filo!SocmedAu because I don't see many so I thought I'd do it myself, so if you liked this sneak peak, you can follow my main, @yuki-istired for more soon enough!

An Filo!Modern!Au Where you finally stop chasing after your crush, Scaramouche, after years of pining (Cliché, I know)

Note:

This au is a modern college au, where reader is implied to be a "dominant" male, so, sorry submissive girlies or boys but unfortunately you are not my target audience. But if you'd still like to follow along, who am I to stop you.

Just please make sure you do not berate me with 'why isn't it gender neutral?' Or 'can't you make the reader a female/more submissive?', because no. I will not, very sorry my loves.

[himiko-kuro]

Hii himiko can you do a kenma fic where the reader is a simp for kenma? Even after getting into a relationship with kenma? that would be too cute. Thank you if you do.

Love pictures

Kenma kozume x gn!reader

A/n: Btw the picture at the front is from @atie1225 from twt.

Summary : Your kinda too much of a simp for your boyfriend kenma

You were a simp an absolute simp for this guy named Kenma Kozume your boyfriend.

* • ° * • ° * • ° * • ° * • ° * •

He was confused when he glanced at you. He was just casually eating a banana when you suddenly started taking pictures alot.of.them.

" What are you doing? " he mumbled confused at why you were taking pictures of him eating " I'm taking Love pictures of you " you muttered focused on taking pictures of him.

" What's that " He questioned curious about what you just said " it's where I take pictures of you so I can admire you as much as I want " you sang happily .

" But I'm right here tho? " He added you smiled at him and went to his side so you could hug him. He gave you one of his arms so you could hug him.

" I know but your just so cutee I can't resist taking pictures of you " you replied happily hugging him tightly and kissing him on the cheek.

He threw the peel away and tried getting you off so he could go play his game and stream but when he tried to you whined and told him to stop you wanted to be close to him.

He sighed and went to his gaming room and sat in his gaming chair with you on his lap.

You smiled taking your phone again to take pictures and this time he smiled at the carama as you took Love pictures " Kenma you know you are the love of my life right? " you mumbled softly.

" I know you're mine too " he said smiling and hugging you with one arm.

"I love you...So much"

* • ° * • ° * • ° * • ° * • ° * •

©2024 himiko-kuro - all rights reserved

Note: Sorry I don't know if this is ok but I tried my best to make the reader like a simp sorry if it's not to your likin

| | ° •Check out the Library Rules first• ° | |

° • * • ° + ^ < ° • Requests open• ° > ^ +

[bibbysstuff]

S in Sylus stands for Simp

[deunmiu-dessie-sideblog]

lmao thinking about how the tf141 men know you're serious by the way you say their given names. like they just turn docile immediately, no matter what they're doing or their positions.

“kyle, johnny, zip it.” swiveling in your chair, you turn your gaze towards them and glare, lips set into a thin line. the two men who sit next to each other stop their quiet bickering and nod softly, focusing on laswell once more.

ghost usually avoids doing med checkups when the time of year rolls around and it just ends up making the medical professional's jobs harder than it needs to be (they usually come to you in order to get him to do it.) “simon, i’m not in the mood. now.” he sulks and broods (swears he doesn't.) but nonetheless does the med check up, that you sit in on so he doesn't run.

price isn't exempt from it either, despite being captain. during a mission including farah and her people, the two had been going back and forth on the trek to the meet-up point. annoyed you had stopped price with a hand to his chest and met his eyes. “john, leave it alone. we don't have time for this.” he’d kept eye contact for a bit but had nodded, clapping you on the shoulder. “heard, seargent.”

ppl call you the 141 whisperer 💀 lolll

[maisy1111]

okay but can we talk about the struggle that is obsessing over a character that doesn’t have fanfics??? because i’m over here scrubbing the internet for any crumbs…

[doodlenoodleboi]

I'M SORRY BRO IS AS OLD AS MY GRANDPA AND I STILL WANNA HIT!

Edit: Follow the artist this got a lot of love but give the artist some!

(I just realized she had Tumbler I found these on Pinterest)

https://lydibug-art.tumblr.com/ Shop: http://lydibugart.bigcartel.com

[peachesandfictionalmen]

Best friends to lovers with Jason Todd is so swoon worthy.

Like getting close to this man that hardly trusts anyone? Jason is so friends to lovers coded it's crazy.

This bitch is the type to cook you meals while you sit on the counter, doesn't matter who's apartment your in.

Finding him curled up on your couch because he was distressed after patrol and when he got there you were already asleep. Him staying anyway because your smell comforts him? I'm fucking deceased.

Falling asleep casually draped over each other while watching a movie. Him massaging the leg you have draped over his lap because he needs something to do with his hands.

This man is so awkward when it comes to crushing too. Like sure he can be smooth with the ladies, but being around someone he's in love with? Please. I swear he'd go as far as practically acting like your boyfriend. He'd be bringing you your favorite snacks, taking you on bike rides, helping you clean your apartment, going out to eat with you, all the while trying to act like he doesn't blush when you smile at him, because there's no way you'd like him back, right?

He'd be so confused if you started trying to drop hints too, like oh, your just wearing his jacket because your cold. His favorite hoodie is definitely not at your place. You just like rubbing his shoulders because you know how tight his muscles get and feel bad for him, no other reason. You only keep his favorite tea at your place because it's convenient, right?

I think you could wave a sign at this man that says 'I LOVE YOU, PLEASE KISS ME' and he'd suddenly become illiterate.

There'd be so many awkward, blushing, almost severely intimate moments too. The cuddles and brushes in the kitchen, hanging on too tight when he takes a turn on his bike, him brushing the hair out of your face, him watching as you put on makeup or are focused on something.

One day, while he's cooking and your sitting on the counter talking, you just get fed up with dropping hints and when he turns and is standing next to your spot on the counter, you just grab him. You just grasp his cheek gently and pull him in for a kiss, he's so stunned he doesn't respond right away. You pull away, half panicking, thinking you actually read him wrong and he finally blinks, cupping your cheeks in his hands and pulling you in to kiss you for real because, finally.

[worlds-we-write]

The Weight of It All

pairing: Jackson!Joel Miller x Reader

summary: You’ve been hiding your sickness—and the truth—from Joel for weeks. But when a pregnancy test confirms your fears, the weight of it becomes too much to bear. Telling him risks reopening old wounds… but keeping it secret might break you both.

WC: 3.8K

tags: Age gap (60s Joel x 30s reader), pregnancy reveal, anxiety, crying, panic, mentions of past child loss (Sarah), emotional vulnerability, soft Joel, comfort, domestic tenderness, happy ending

My Masterlist

You’ve been sick for days. Maybe longer.

It started as something small—dull headaches, a little nausea in the mornings, that tight ache behind your ribs when you stood too fast. Nothing worth bringing up. Not with Joel. Not when he already worries too much.

You’d blamed it on stress. On the cold. On whatever dried meat Maria had handed you from the trade post. But it hasn’t gone away. It’s gotten worse.

Today, it hits harder than usual. Your stomach twists before your eyes even open. You lie in bed, curled on your side, one hand pressed to your mouth, breathing shallowly through your nose.

Joel’s already up. You hear him in the kitchen—footsteps creaking across the floorboards, the soft clink of silverware, the low grumble of the stove catching. You try to move, but the moment you sit up, your body rebels.

You make it to the bathroom just in time.

You vomit hard, clutching the edge of the sink like it might keep you tethered. Cold sweat beads on your neck, your spine prickling with heat and nausea and panic.

It’s not the first time this week.

And still, you haven’t told him.

By the time you pull yourself together, Joel’s voice is already calling down the hallway.

“Breakfast’s ready. You up?”

You splash water on your face and don’t answer right away. You can’t. Your reflection in the mirror looks pale, your lips chapped. You stare at yourself a moment too long.

Then you step into the hallway like nothing’s wrong.

He doesn’t question you.

He never does at first.

Joel’s at the stove, dividing up the food onto two plates. It’s not much—just scrambled eggs and a toasted slice of bread—but he’s humming under his breath like he’s proud of it. You try to sit down without making a face. The smell turns your stomach.

“Didn’t hear you get up,” he says, voice low and easy. “Sleep okay?”

You nod. Lie.

He sets the plate in front of you. You force yourself to eat a few bites, chewing carefully, swallowing around the nausea.

“You sure you’re not gettin’ sick?” he asks after a while, studying you. “You’ve been lookin’ a little… off.”

You shake your head too quickly. “No, just tired. Stomach’s been weird. Probably a bug or something.”

He doesn’t push. Just narrows his eyes, then reaches over to squeeze your thigh under the table. A quiet gesture. Comforting. You wish it didn’t make your chest ache.

You don’t talk much after that. Joel launches into something about a new gate they’re reinforcing on the east wall, and you nod along, trying not to gag every time you lift your fork. You excuse yourself early and claim a headache. He offers to make tea. You say no.

By the time you crawl back into bed, you’re already crying.

The test isn’t something you went looking for. Not really.

It’s tucked in the back of your dresser, hidden beneath a pair of old gloves and a cracked mirror you meant to throw away. You remember Maria handing it to you months ago, half-joking—“Just in case.” You’d laughed then. Said something sarcastic. Stuffed it in the drawer and forgot.

But you find it now.

Hands shaking.

Heart pounding.

You stare at the little plastic thing like it’s a weapon.

You haven’t had your period in… shit. You count on your fingers. At least two months. Maybe more. You try to remember when the last time was and come up blank. Just nausea and headaches and crying over stupid things like burnt toast and Joel leaving his damn flannel on the floor again.

You sit on the edge of the bed and peel the wrapper back slowly.

The directions are smeared but readable. You follow them. You take the test.

You wait.

Two minutes feels like an hour.

You pace the room, bare feet cold against the floor, every breath too shallow, too loud. You’re not ready for this. You can’t be. You’ve been careful. Joel’s older. You thought…

You glance at the stick.

Two pink lines.

Clear as day.

No denying it. No maybes. No confusion.

You’re pregnant.

You sink to the floor and cry so hard your throat burns.

It’s not that you don’t want a baby.

It’s that you don’t know how to have one. Not here. Not in this world. And not with Joel, not after everything he’s been through. After everything he’s lost.

You think about Sarah. The photo he keeps in his coat pocket. The way he still gets quiet when kids are nearby. The way he looks at you sometimes—like he’s waiting for you to vanish, too.

He hasn’t said her name in months.

But you see it in his eyes.

You press your hands to your stomach. Try to imagine what’s inside. Try to make it feel real.

And it does.

Terrifyingly real.

But you don’t tell him.

Not that night. Not the next. Not the week after.

You keep pretending.

Keep hiding.

Keep waking up sick and saying it’s nothing.

Because you love him too much to ruin this.

And you’re afraid—so afraid—that this will be the thing that finally breaks him.

You don’t remember when it stopped being something you could ignore.

Maybe it was when your nausea turned into full-blown vomiting every other morning. Maybe it was the way your body started to ache differently—heavier, tender in places it hadn’t been before. Or maybe it was the way Joel kept watching you when he thought you weren’t looking.

You try to keep up the act. Try to smile when he brushes your hair behind your ear. Try to laugh when he mutters something sarcastic about Jackson politics or how damn cold it still is. You sit with him by the fire at night, listening to the quiet crackle of the wood, letting him rest his hand on your thigh like nothing’s changed.

But everything’s changed.

You’ve got a secret growing inside you. One you didn’t ask for. One you still don’t know how to feel about.

And it’s eating you alive.

You start waking up before Joel does, slipping quietly out of bed to vomit or dry heave into the toilet, chewing your lip to keep from crying out. You brush your teeth in silence. Splash cold water on your face. Sit on the edge of the tub until the spinning stops.

By the time he’s awake, you’re already wrapped in a blanket on the couch, pretending to read a book you haven’t turned the page on in three days.

“You sure you’re not comin’ down with somethin’?” Joel asks again that morning, a mug of tea in his hand instead of coffee. “You’ve been… quiet.”

“I’m just tired.”

He gives you a look.

You try to change the subject. “What time you heading out with Tommy today?”

Joel doesn’t answer right away. Just hands you the mug. It’s chamomile. Your favorite. He’s trying. It makes your heart ache.

“I could stay,” he says slowly, sitting down beside you. “Ain’t nothin’ urgent. We were just gonna check the perimeter out past the ridge.”

“No, it’s okay,” you say too quickly. “I’m fine. Go.”

His jaw tightens a little. Not in frustration—more like… uncertainty. Like he doesn’t quite believe you but doesn’t know how to press without making things worse.

He kisses your forehead before he leaves.

You cry as soon as the door shuts.

You wander out later, needing air, even though the snow’s still packed in frozen ridges along the path outside the cabin. The sky is overcast, the wind sharp enough to sting your cheeks. You wrap Joel’s flannel tighter around you—he left it behind again this morning—and follow the half-trodden trail into the woods behind the cabin.

No one follows.

No one knows.

You find the edge of the treeline, the big flat rock you sometimes sit on in warmer months. You stand there now, breath puffing out in clouds, staring down at your gloved hands like they might hold an answer.

You fish the test out of your coat pocket.

You’ve been carrying it with you. You don’t know why.

Two pink lines, clear as ever.

You could throw it into the snow. You think about it—feel the urge in your fingers, the burst of anger that’s starting to rise like bile. You want to throw it, scream, crush it beneath your boot, pretend this isn’t happening.

But you don’t.

You sit.

And you hold it.

And you cry again.

That night, Joel makes soup. He tries not to burn it this time. You sit at the table and pretend to eat, smiling when he cracks a joke about the carrots being too soft. You’re exhausted, not just physically but from the weight of pretending.

“Was Maria askin’ about you today?” Joel says casually, handing you a piece of crusty bread. “Said she hadn’t seen you in a while.”

“Just been tired.”

“She said you should stop by.”

“I will.”

You won’t.

Joel leans back in his chair, watching you. “You know you can tell me if somethin’s wrong, right?”

You freeze.

He says it so gently, it almost breaks you. No suspicion in his voice, just quiet concern. The kind he only shows when he thinks you’re about to run—or when he is.

You want to tell him. You do.

But fear clamps down hard on your throat.

What if he looks at you and sees a mistake?

What if he looks at you and sees Sarah?

What if this is the thing that makes him leave?

You force a smile. “I know.”

Joel looks like he wants to say more. But he doesn’t.

He just reaches for your hand across the table and holds it in his calloused palm.

And you grip it like it’s the only solid thing keeping you from unraveling.

-

The nightmares come next.

You dream of blood. Of silence. Of holding something small and helpless and watching it disappear. You wake up gasping, clutching your stomach. Joel stirs beside you but doesn’t wake, and you’re glad. You don’t want him to see you like this.

You start wearing looser clothes. You start avoiding the mirror. You start skipping dinner.

Joel notices. Of course he does. He’s not stupid.

“Did I do somethin’?” he asks one night, voice quiet against your shoulder.

You’re in bed, turned away from him, pretending to be asleep. His fingers brush your arm.

“You’ve been distant.”

You say nothing. Your throat tightens.

“I ain’t mad,” he adds. “Just worried.”

You bite your lip so hard you taste blood.

“I love you, y’know,” Joel murmurs. “Even when you shut down like this.”

That’s the moment your heart breaks.

Because you realize what you’re doing isn’t fair. Not to him. Not to yourself. Not to the tiny life you’re carrying inside you.

But you’re still not ready.

Not yet.

You nod into the pillow, blinking tears onto the fabric.

“Love you too.”

A week passes.

Maybe more.

You lose track of time, counting your life in nausea and guilt and half-eaten meals. Joel never says it out loud, but you can see it in the way he watches you—like he’s trying to solve a puzzle without all the pieces.

You think about telling him every night.

You rehearse the words. I’m pregnant. I didn’t know how to tell you. I’m scared.

But when you open your mouth, nothing comes.

Until finally… it does.

You don’t plan to tell him that night.

It’s the same as every other evening lately. Joel gets back late from patrol, shedding his coat and boots at the door with a tired grunt. You’re already in the kitchen, stirring soup that smells better than it tastes. You’re still too nauseous to eat more than a few bites, but you pretend for his sake.

He doesn’t notice.

Or maybe he does. Maybe he’s just waiting.

The table is quiet as you both eat. Joel hums under his breath between spoonfuls, something familiar—an old Johnny Cash tune, maybe. He thanks you like always. Tells you it’s good even though it’s barely seasoned.

After dinner, he offers to wash up, and you let him. Your hands won’t stop shaking anyway.

You find him in bed later, shirtless and reading something he borrowed from Tommy—a survival manual someone dug up from the library. He doesn’t look up when you enter. Just shifts a little to make room for you under the quilt, reaching out to rest a warm hand on your hip when you slide in beside him.

You lie there stiffly.

Heart pounding.

Stomach twisting.

“You’re awful quiet,” he murmurs after a while, voice rough from sleep already creeping in.

You swallow. “Just tired.”

“Mm.” He turns slightly, fingers idly stroking the hem of your shirt. “You been sayin’ that a lot lately.”

You tense.

“I—” Your voice cracks. “Yeah.”

Joel doesn’t push. Not right away. He just keeps tracing slow circles on your skin, quiet and patient, like he’s waiting for something you’re not sure you know how to give.

And then—

“Been thinkin’…” he says slowly. “Maybe you oughta see that doctor Maria keeps fussin’ about. Just in case.”

You flinch. He feels it.

“I’m fine,” you say quickly, too quickly.

Joel rolls onto his side to face you, propping himself up on one elbow. His brow furrows, and the concern there nearly guts you.

“You’ve been sick almost every damn day,” he says gently. “You ain’t eatin’. You’re pale. You cry at soup commercials.”

You bark a laugh that dissolves into a sob before you can stop it.

Joel’s expression shifts. Alarmed now. He sits up fully, cupping your face in both hands. “Hey—hey. What’s wrong?”

You shake your head, curling into yourself. “I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“What—? Sweetheart, talk to me. What’s goin’ on?”

You squeeze your eyes shut.

And finally—finally—you say it.

“I’m pregnant.”

Silence.

Not shocked. Not gasped or cursed.

Just… silence.

You feel him go still, like every muscle has locked up at once. His hands fall from your face.

You don’t look at him.

“I found the test a couple weeks ago,” you say, words tumbling now, rushed and raw. “I thought it was a stomach bug, or something I ate, but then it didn’t stop. And I remembered Maria gave me that test a while back and I just—fuck, I didn’t mean for this to happen, Joel. I didn’t mean to do this to you.”

“To me?”

Your breath catches.

Joel’s voice is low. Barely above a whisper. You finally glance at him.

He looks shell-shocked. Not angry. Not even upset. Just… wrecked. His eyes are wide, jaw tight, like he’s trying to keep something inside from breaking loose.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” you whisper. “After everything. After Sarah. I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Joel doesn’t answer right away. He just stares at the blanket bunched around his waist, like it might offer an explanation he can’t find in your words.

“I thought you’d leave,” you admit softly. “Or worse—I thought you’d stay, but you’d hate me for it.”

Joel blinks slowly. “You really think that little of me?”

“No.” You wipe your eyes. “No, I just—I know what this means for you. I know what it could bring back.”

Joel’s breath hitches. He leans back against the headboard, one hand dragging over his face. The silence stretches between you like a rope pulled taut.

“I ain’t mad,” he says finally.

You flinch.

“I ain’t,” he repeats, quieter this time. “Just… I need a second.”

You nod. Curl your knees to your chest. You try not to cry again, but your chest won’t stop heaving, your hands won’t stop trembling.

Joel stays where he is for a long time. Not speaking. Not touching you.

But he doesn’t leave.

And somehow, that’s what breaks you the most.

Ten minutes pass. Maybe twenty.

Then Joel shifts.

He reaches for you slowly, hesitantly, and when you don’t pull away, he pulls you into his arms.

You bury your face in his chest and let yourself fall apart.

He holds you through all of it. Lets you sob until your voice goes hoarse, rubbing your back and whispering nothing-words you barely register.

When you finally quiet, he kisses the top of your head.

“You should’ve told me,” he says, not angry. Just aching.

“I was scared.”

“I know.” He sighs against your temple. “So was I.”

You blink. “You?”

Joel nods, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are wet, rimmed with red.

“I knew somethin’ was off. Knew it wasn’t just the weather or the food. I kept thinkin’ about what it could be, and I… I think I knew. I just didn’t wanna be the one to say it.”

“Why?”

He swallows hard. “Because if I said it, it’d be real. And if it’s real, it can be lost.”

Your breath catches.

He cups your face again, thumb brushing your cheek.

“But I’m not walkin’ away,” he says, voice rough but certain. “Not from you. Not from this.”

You close your eyes.

“Joel—”

“I don’t know how to do this,” he admits, whisper soft. “But I want to try. If you want this… I want it too.”

You nod, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I do. I really do.”

He pulls you into his chest again and kisses your hair like it’s the only thing keeping him upright.

“You’re not alone,” he says.

And this time, you believe him.

You wake to the sound of rain tapping against the window.

It’s still dark, the kind of blue-black quiet that only settles in just before dawn. Joel’s arm is wrapped around your middle, his chest pressed warm and steady to your back, one hand splayed low over your stomach like he already knows what’s growing there.

Maybe he does.

He hasn’t moved all night.

You lie still for a while, not quite ready to break the spell. The room is quiet, the fire low in the hearth, the storm outside soft but persistent. You can hear his breathing behind you—slow, even, calmer than you’ve heard it in days.

It’s the first time you’ve really slept in weeks. The first time you haven’t woken up sick with dread curling through your spine. There’s fear, still. Of course there is. But it’s quieter now. Outweighed by something else.

Something that feels a little like hope.

Joel stirs not long after, mumbling sleep-drunk nonsense against your neck.

You hum softly, shifting to face him. His eyes crack open, still heavy with sleep. You expect him to look tense. Uncertain. But he doesn’t.

He looks soft.

His thumb brushes your hip. “Mornin’.”

“Hi,” you whisper.

His gaze drifts to your stomach, then back to your face. “You feelin’ okay?”

“Better.”

He studies you a beat longer. “You sure?”

You nod. “Yeah. Still tired. A little queasy. But… it’s different now.”

Joel’s fingers flex against your side. “Yeah. It is.”

There’s a quiet pause. Neither of you says it, but it’s there in the air between you. Real. Alive.

“I kept thinkin’ about what I’d say,” you admit quietly. “When I finally told you.”

Joel smiles faintly. “What’d you come up with?”

You shrug. “I didn’t think I’d get that far.”

He reaches up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand lingering at your cheek.

“You were right to be scared,” he says. “I was scared, too.”

You nod.

“But I want this,” he adds. “I want you. I want this baby.”

You blink fast. “You sure?”

“Sweetheart.” His hand moves back to your belly, resting there like it belongs. “I ain’t been sure about much in my life, but this?” He leans in, voice low and raspy. “Yeah. I’m sure.”

Your eyes sting again.

He kisses you softly—slow, lingering, like he’s not in a rush anymore. And for once, neither are you.

Later, when the sky lightens and the rain slows, Joel gets up and pads to the fire to stoke it back to life. You sit on the edge of the bed, wrapped in one of his flannels, watching him move around the cabin like he’s already settled into this new chapter.

He talks as he works.

“Might need to reinforce that back door soon. Wind keeps slippin’ through the cracks.”

“Mmhm.”

“And we’ll need more blankets. If you’re gonna get cold easier, can’t have you freezin’ all night.”

You smile, resting a hand on your stomach.

“Could build a new shelf for the pantry,” he adds, glancing at you. “Start settin’ aside things for winter. For… y’know.”

He gestures vaguely at your stomach, the faintest blush creeping into his cheeks.

You can’t help it—you laugh.

“What?”

“You’re nesting.”

He frowns. “I’m not.”

“You are.”

Joel mutters under his breath, but you catch the corner of his mouth twitching.

He crosses the room a moment later and crouches in front of you, palms resting on your knees.

“I’m serious, though,” he says. “We’ll figure it out. Whatever we need. You just gotta tell me what’s goin’ on, alright?”

You nod.

“No more secrets,” you whisper.

“No more secrets,” he echoes.

He leans forward, presses a kiss to your thigh, then rests his forehead there for a long moment. When he looks up again, his eyes are glassy.

“You ever think about names?”

Your heart lurches.

“I haven’t gotten that far.”

“Well,” he says softly, “maybe we should.”

You stare at him.

“I know it’s early,” he continues. “But I keep thinkin’ about it. The kind of name we’d give. What kind of person they’ll be.”

You reach for his hand. “You really want this?”

“I already do,” he says.

You smile, brushing your thumb over his knuckles. “What if it’s a girl?”

Joel swallows hard. “Then I guess I’ll have two reasons to keep this world safe.”

You press your forehead to his.

And you both sit there in the early morning quiet, breathing together, dreaming of something you never thought you’d have again.

A future.

That evening, Joel pulls you into his lap while the fire crackles, his hand absentminded on your stomach, thumb stroking slow circles over the curve that isn’t there yet but will be.

He talks to the baby like he’s already met them.

Tells them how much he’s looking forward to teaching them to fish, to play guitar, to run without looking back. He jokes about how stubborn they’re probably gonna be, how it’s definitely your fault, and how he’s not gonna let them out of his sight until they’re at least twenty-five.

You laugh, and cry, and laugh again.

And when you fall asleep in his arms, it’s the first time in weeks that your dreams aren’t full of fear.

They’re full of names.

And tiny hands.

And sunlight.

tags: @lowrisemiller @pedrito-is-punk7 here ya go from a post a couple weeks ago

[alpali]

Atsumu cries at every heartfelt act you do for him. It doesn’t matter what it is.

You could give him a rock and say it reminded you of him and he’s damn near in tears.

Or if you call him over the phone and say you’re coming over with his favorite food. He’s trying to muffle his whimpers.

He just loves you so much and even though he teases you so so much for your sappy acts, he loves it all way too much.

So you can only imagine his reaction when you write him a letter for your guys anniversary. Gifting him a basket full of things and memories throughout your relationship.

He’s quiet for quite some time and it worries you that he didn’t like it. But it’s the exact opposite he loves it. When you hear his sniffles, you’re snapping your head towards him, brows pulling together.

“Sumu? What’s wrong?” You rush to his side, rubbing his back but he cries more.

“I jus’—”

He hiccups.

“I love you s’much. M’gonna marry you I swear.” He pouts, staring at you with his big shining eyes.

You laugh and it kind of embarrasses him but he doesn’t care.

“I love you.” He says again, pulling you into a bone crushing hug. You soothe his hair as he holds you and calms down.

“I’ll be waiting then.” You smile, hugging him just as tight.

[mellowwillowy]

𝐒𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐝 𝐇𝐮𝐬𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐝

Yan! Sugar Daddy who fell in love with you at first sight in the cafe he often visited for his daily to-go coffee. He had seen lots of beauties but you were the first to catch his breath.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who tried to woo you, he tried his best to not scare you and subtly flirt with you. It took him a huge courage to approach you and ask for your number.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who found out you were still just a college student who was most likely to be struggling with financial issues, or so he assumed from how most of the students there were.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who took his time bonding with you before subtly offering an arrangement with you, a mutual arrangement of a sugar relationship. Instead of sex, fancy dates, or a plus one to those higher-ups events, he wanted your company all the time if he could.

You were wary and hesitant but his silver-tongued nature convinced you that this would change your life for the better.

While you were inexperienced in most of it, Yulian made sure to make you feel comfortable about it and him. The weekly allowance and PPM were enough to make you never lift a single finger to work anymore.

The more you spent time with him, the less it felt like an arrangement. It felt like a man treating you with utmost respect while spoiling you with luxuries you would never imagine to have.

But with such great benefits came a great price. You noticed that you had been seeing your friends less because of the attention you had on him.

You noticed the higher-ups never stopped sneering at you for being a commoner or his pet whenever you attended the fancy events with him as his plus one.

You noticed how you had almost less to none freedom, always heavily guarded by what seemed to be his bodyguards. Who was he and why did you even need this sort of protection?

One day you decided to trick his bodyguards with your flat-out white lies so that they'd leave you alone. They did not expect someone like you to ever lie and put them at risk so they left you alone.

All you did was wander around in awe, checking the grand balcony to go to the washroom as normal people would.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who was seething in rage when the bodyguards came to him, tricked by your childish lie. But there was no way something bad would happen with this slight mistake right? You were not his spouse by any means.

But oh did everyone know you were someone he fancied for the first time in his whole life. Part of his brain just tried to look at this mistake in a bright light and it backfired.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who had to be endlessly teased by his great-for-nothing cartel friend. He had to endure the stress of losing you and the risk of not being able to take you back.

It's not like the Drug Lord couldn't help him, it was simply humiliating for him to endanger you by not keeping a close eye on you.

Yan! Sugar Daddy who could track you down in less than a week and ordered a mass slaughter on the faction that imprisoned you. You were not wounded terribly but a wound was still a wound.

Yan! Sugar Daddy was just a confidant to the Drug Lord and an infamous lawyer. You only knew he was a lawyer but never the lurking threat of his other occupation. No wonder he was always wary of his surroundings.

How could someone from such a cold underground world have the heart to fall in love with you? That was what you thought when you woke up to his concerned face.

Weeks passed and it didn't take him so long to propose to you, for you to become his spouse.

"I truly love you, dear. I have never even once seen our arrangement as something strictly business instead." He showed you a velvety box with a diamond ring in it. "I admit, it was not the best approach but I thought I could work my way into your heart while profiting you with all the benefits and luxuries you could have from me."

He swallowed the lump in his throat, "I wanted you to see how capable I am."

Something told you that nothing good would come out of your refusal. And instead, logic swarm into your brain. You had been in an arrangement with him for almost a year already and had never even once felt any hardships.

He was nice to you, downright kind and loving even. He cared for you deeply and wouldn't hurt you in any way. It was your fault that you broke free from the barrier of protection he granted you.

With great fame and luxuries, came all sorts of threats. He wasn't disloyal like those higher-ups. He didn't belittle you like others would. He loved you.

Even if you didn't love him, you knew how great it felt to be loved by him. There was not a single loss from this arrangement which was a marriage, right?

[rafeyssugar]

baby girl

rafe treats y/n like she’s made of glass. like she’s something soft, delicate—something his.

and she lets him. because how could she not? when he’s always looking at her like that? when his touch is always so gentle?

like now—when she pouts at him from the passenger seat, arms crossed, lips pursed in that way that makes him weak.

“what?” he asks, fighting back a smirk, reaching over to squeeze her thigh.

“you didn’t let me carry the bags.”

rafe exhales, shaking his head. “because you don’t need to. what kind of boyfriend would i be if i let you carry heavy shit, huh?”

y/n huffs, turning to the window. “they weren’t even that heavy.”

and that’s when he knows—she’s just being a brat.

so he leans over at a red light, pressing a kiss to her temple. “my sweet girl,” he murmurs, lips dragging down to her jaw. “so spoiled, huh?”

she mumbles something under her breath, but he catches it—“not spoiled.”

he just grins. “nah, you are, angel. i made you that way.”

because he does spoil her. carries her bags, opens her doors, pulls her into his lap just because. worships her. and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

so when they get home, and she starts trying to grab the shopping bags again, he just tuts, plucking them right out of her hands.

“what did i say, baby?”

she pouts up at him. “but—”

rafe just shakes his head, pressing a quick kiss to her lips. “no buts. let me take care of you.”

she lets out a dramatic sigh but doesn’t argue, instead watching as he carries all the bags inside like it’s nothing.

“you know,” she says, plopping onto the couch, stretching like a cat, “i could have helped.”

rafe raises a brow, setting the bags down before making his way over to her. “oh yeah?”

“yeah.”

he hums, settling beside her, pulling her into his lap with ease. “but you like when i baby you, huh?”

she rolls her eyes, but he sees the way her lips twitch, how she doesn’t move away when he starts pressing slow, lazy kisses to her neck.

“admit it,” he murmurs, voice low, teasing. “you like being my spoiled little baby girl.”

she exhales, tilting her head slightly as he keeps kissing, hands gripping at his shirt.

“maybe.”

rafe chuckles, pulling back to look at her. “yeah?”

she shrugs, playing with the collar of his shirt, but when she finally looks up, she’s got that look in her eyes—the one that makes him weak. the one that tells him she’s just as obsessed with him as he is with her.

so he kisses her—slow, deep, like he’s got all the time in the world.

when they finally pull apart, he brushes a thumb over her cheek, voice soft. “good girl.”

-

now she’s curled up in his lap, fingers lazily playing with the chain around his neck, lips slightly swollen from how he’d kissed her stupid just moments ago.

and he can’t help himself.

his hands roam—slow, lazy, like he’s got nowhere else to be. one hand resting on the small of her back, the other tracing patterns along her bare thigh, dipping beneath the hem of her shorts.

“you tired, baby?” he murmurs, voice soft, knowing.

y/n hums, blinking up at him, looking dazed, floaty. “a little.”

he smiles, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “you wanna nap?”

she makes a noise, nuzzling closer, pressing her face into his neck. “mmm. just wanna sit here.”

and his heart melts.

because she’s never really said it, but he knows—knows she feels safest when she’s with him, tucked against him like this, wrapped up in his warmth.

so he just hums, rubbing slow circles into her back. “yeah? my lap comfy, huh?”

she nods, sighing contentedly. “mhm. best seat in the house.”

rafe chuckles, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “yeah, ‘cause it’s your seat, angel.”

she doesn’t respond, but the way she sighs again, soft and sweet, is enough.

he keeps holding her, fingers tracing slow, absentminded shapes against her skin, lips pressing light, fleeting kisses to her temple, her forehead, her jaw.

and when he feels her breathing even out, feels her relax completely in his arms, he knows she’s drifted off.

he smiles to himself, tightening his hold just a little, letting his head rest against the couch.

yeah, he thinks, pressing one last kiss to her forehead. he could hold her like this forever.

-

rafe doesn’t move—not even an inch. not when his leg starts going numb, not when his arm starts to tingle. because y/n is asleep, all warm and tucked against him, and he’d rather die than wake her up.

his baby girl—soft, sweet, always pressed up against him like she belongs there. (she does.)

he’s careful as he shifts just slightly, just enough to cup the back of her head, fingers threading into her hair. she stirs a little, sighing in her sleep, pressing closer.

rafe just smiles, running a thumb over her cheek. she looks so peaceful like this, face smushed against his chest, lips parted, lashes fluttering faintly.

he has to kiss her.

so he does—just a light press of his lips to her forehead, lingering for a second before pulling away.

but she feels it.

she exhales softly, shifting in his lap, stretching like a cat before blinking up at him, still sleepy, still floaty.

“…how long was i out?” her voice is quiet, groggy.

rafe grins, brushing some hair from her face. “’bout an hour.”

her brows furrow slightly. “you let me sleep that long?”

“‘course i did, angel.” his fingers move down, tracing the side of her neck, his voice dropping slightly. “you looked too pretty to wake up.”

her lips part slightly, and rafe knows he’s got her.

he smirks, dragging his hand down her arm, slow, teasing. “feel good?”

y/n nods, still dazed, blinking at him like she’s not sure if she’s awake or still dreaming.

rafe hums, tilting his head. “yeah? what feels good, baby?”

she exhales. “you.”

and he’s done for.

he cups her face, tilting it up as he leans in, lips brushing hers—soft, teasing. “yeah?”

“mhm.” her hands slide up his chest, gripping his shirt weakly, like she’s trying to pull him closer, but he’s already as close as he can be.

“wanna kiss?” he murmurs, voice low, teasing.

she nods again, breath hitching slightly. “please.”

rafe grins before finally—finally—closing the distance, kissing her soft and slow, like he’s got all the time in the world.

because he does. because he’s not going anywhere.

when they finally pull apart, she exhales, nuzzling into him, hands still fisted in his shirt.

rafe just chuckles, running a hand down her back. his baby girl.

more daddy!rafe

y/n trying to smoke

love bites

teaching y/n how to kiss

[nillosgarden]

history teacher! sukuna who is known by all university to be the restrict, have the most terrifying exams, and to be a total hottie.

history teacher! sukuna whose eyes lands the first time in a total nerd of the class, the one who always performs perfectly in his exams, wears large sweaters and skirts, and has glasses that always are in the bridge of the nose. He loves seeing how your thighs are so plushy, fighting the urge to squeeze them. And my girl, in this case, the total nerd is you.

history teacher! sukuna who always loves to have your company after classes to do professional things. Like, sucking his dick under his desk like a professional, duh.

history teacher! sukuna whose groans are low and husky when you fondle his balls while sucking his dick, everything in a slow pace. You love torturing him, don't you?

history teacher! sukuna who doesn't let the torture last, and grab a fist full of hair, pushing your head down on his length, creating his own pace.

history teacher! sukuna who loves seeing the drool in your chin, and hear the gags that fill the classroom.

history teacher! sukuna who hears the door suddenly opening and slows the pace, now looking at his two students that fuck him with their eyes in every class, sitting in the front, showing their necklines to him like sluts. Poor girls, don't know that somebody else already got the dick.

history teacher! sukuna whose eyes drift down for a sec, only to look up at them again with a grin in his face.

"I guess I can't take anymore assistents. I already have one that does her job very well."

history teacher! sukuna who said that while pushing you down with brutality, forcing you to hide a loud gag.

history teacher! sukuna who sees that girls walk away with a pout, and laughs to himself.

history teacher! sukuna who quickens the pace and cums in your mouth, making you show him that you swallowed it all after.

history teacher! sukuna who puts you in his lap, grinding your soaked pussy into his dick through the lacy panties you're wearing.

history teacher! sukuna who kisses your neck up and down, showing that he's far done with you.

~ don't copy, please.

today I got a little carried on with the drabbles...

thanks for reading! bye bye, flowerssss! <3

[moodyvoid]

You’re an underground pro hero and you get invited to a heroes event. There are all sorts of paparazzi and media there snapping pictures, recording, and interviewing the heroes.

After the event, you’re watching back an interview you did and you notice Hawks walking by in the background and he stops and looks at you like you’re the hottest thing he’s ever seen in his life.

In one of his interviews, you walk by and he pauses to pass you a glance and he turns back to the camera like “Who is that? 😳🥵”

[ebodebo]

i know that’s right🗣️🗣️