#ultimately teasing silver to the end of all that...

[tollsoftheclockwerkbelle]

if they're bringing together the main beats of not only SA2 but also S06, and loosely Unleashed as well? im-

[quietlyblooms-gone]

chiyo likes people who bully her; she likes people who're kind to her; shall we just say her type is... people??

[selfishmachines1111]

hii! really love your sonic writing :D

prompt for you, hedgehogs and circling are now infamous after the last twitter takeover, so can i ask for a sonic, shadow, and silver x reader where they start to circle the reader? like maybe it’s before the three have realized they’re actually in love, and that instinctual action kinda makes it click for them. how would they react, what would they do? (gaia forbid if reader catches on eventually and reciprocates, regardless of species)

thank you!!!!

this is so cute i love it!!! enjoy!!

Love?

┊➤ 𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐠𝐨𝐫𝐲; 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐃𝐆𝐄𝐇𝐎𝐆

┊➤ 𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭; 𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂, 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖, 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑

┊➤ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬; 𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐞

𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂; sonic would do it purposely. every time he’s near you, he runs in laps around you, and you being clueless as ever, just took it as him wanting to blow some steam off by running. it did take you a while to actually comprehend what exactly was going on. you had heard from amy about it once, and here it was, happening to you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“sonic?”

you spoke out, watching the blue hedgehog’s every move in confusion as he discreetly circled around you.

you noticed his speed increasing by the second. just what was he doing?

“hm?” he responded back to you, playing oblivious, but that slight smirk on his face told you otherwise.

“just what exactly are you…doing?” as the words came out your mouth, you had suddenly came to realization.

sonic noticed the way you froze up, and couldn’t help but smirk a bit wider.

“finally get it?”

that damn tone..

“you stupid hedgehog…” you murmured out, but even so you couldn’t stop the smile that became present on your face, walking over and giving the boy a kiss on the cheek.

“i love you too.”

𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖; shadow would do it unintentionally. he’d never notice when he would circle around you frequently whenever you two were with each other. and if he did notice, he’d stop immediately out of embarrassment. you, however, never did acknowledge it, thinking it was just yet another weird thing shadow liked to do. the one who would notice it was rouge, the sly bat would tease shadow about. the second she first noticed it.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

you, shadow, and rouge were currently on a mission at the moment. you hated being in the forest, especially having to past or even go through multiple bushes.

you snapped out of your thoughts when you heard a faint sound of rouges chuckling

you looked around in confusion. no one has said anything for the past 10 minutes, so what was she chuckling about?

that’s when you finally noticed.

one lap

two laps

three laps

“uh…shadow?”

your voice had snapped the dark hedgehog out of his thoughts. only now did he realize what he had been doing.

shadow’s muzzle was painted with a slight pink hue as he looked at you, sparing rouge a quick glance— well, glare.

before he could get a word out, rouge already spoke for him.

“it seems the all ultimate life form is in love.”

well that was embarrassing. for shadow at least.

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑; silver would do it in excitement. every time he sees you it’s as if his body’s on autopilot. tail wagging as he had that stupid lovestruck smile on his face. silver’s not good at hiding his feelings, if it isn’t obvious enough. even if he wanted to, he just couldn’t. he’d just be a bit too shy to just outwardly admit his feelings though. so he makes up for it by his actions.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

silver was circling around you, as he rambled on and on about whatever was on the top of his head.

he loved talking to you, he never wanted the conversation to end!

oh how he wished he could just confess already, he’s way too scared of rejection to do that.

no matter how many times blaze had already reassured him that your feelings for him was obvious, he just couldn’t wrap his head around it.

you, liking him?

that seemed nearly impossible for the boy.

“silver, did you have too much sugar today or something?” you questioned the boy with a slight tilt of your head.

sure, he’s always been pretty lively, but man, he seemed over the moon today.

flustered as ever, the hedgehog stopped his rambling, trying to get a word out, but he just kept stumbling over his words.

you had already been aware of how he felt, and the meaning behind his actions. you were just waiting for the moment he’d officially confessed.

with a chuckle, you simply said.

“you’re so cute, silv.”

silver.exe has stopped working.

𝐄𝐍𝐃

[juicykvnture]

(YOU DRIVE ME) CRAZY

mechanic!Jason x ditzy/girly!fem!Reader

tags: AFAB reader, kinda bimbo!reader, manhandling, fingering, spit, thigh riding, light slapping, nicknames (doll/bunny),semi-public? (in a garage)

a/n: This came idea to me while listening to my 2000’s playlist (thank u Britney Spears)

wc: 3.4K | masterlist

You honestly don’t know where you’d be without your favourite mechanic! Taken off of the road, girl be serious.

It’s not like you do it on purpose, yknow? Seriously, there’s nobody on this planet who enjoys that feeling of existential dread when you back up against the curb a little too hard.

So, like any rational person, you blame the state of your car on bad luck, or the world around you - like, how were you supposed to know that there was gonna be a curb there?

The first time, you just slapped a bumper sticker over the scuff mark, and then another one, and then another, until ultimately your precious Impala looks less like a muscle car and more like an arts and crafts project. Especially since the second you got it, you immediately handed it over to the garage and all but begged to get the original dusty pink colour restored.

You’ve mastered the skill of batting your eyelashes out of speeding tickets, flirting your way out of parking fines, the whole lot.

But the same can’t be said about the fact you’ve got a knocked-off mirror and a busted-up tail-lights, which you can’t stress enough is simply just rotten luck, never-mind your bumper hanging on by a mess of pink washi tape of all things.

But the silver lining? Him.

“We’re closed,” Jason calls out from under a car, cursing under his breath when he hears the door to the garage creaking.

He’s a busy guy, he just hasn’t had time to get around to the damn thing. Especially not now, not with the fact he’s got a never-ending list of customers coming to him every three seconds and his gloves are dripping in engine oil.

Yes, gloves. Only cause Dick laughed at him and said Jason looks like he’s been in the mines all day with his bare hands stained black.

His brother is in no position to tease him about anything. He can’t tell his ass from his elbow when it comes to cars. All he does is the accounts.

At the sound of footsteps coming closer, Jason’s expression hardens as he starts to roll himself out from under the car. For fucks sake, he literally just called out the fact they’re is closed and there just has to be some stubborn fucker who thinks they’re more important than everyone else.

The sound isn’t just footsteps, it’s heels. Loud, clicky heels.

With a slightly amused sigh, his head comes into view, his hair a tousled mess like always with his grease-stained vest clinging to his body.

You’re not exactly sure why he became a mechanic, he could easily be a fucking model or something.

“Hi, Barbie.” He hums, crossing his arms over his chest, making absolutely zero effort to get up.

Fidgeting with the charms on your nails, you blink. How creative of him to definitely be the first person to ever tease you with that.

“You think you’re funny?”

He just shrugs as he peels off his gloves, now graciously deciding to stand up.

“I think I’m adorable.”

Staring at your bumper, and then at you, Jason has to hold back a cackle, he knows you’re a menace on the road but even for you, the state of the hood of your car is impressive. Sheer damage on that thing has his mouth hanging open for a moment. Where's the rest of it? Where's the rest of your skirt? Surely you got that for 50% off.

“Less of the horrified stares and more car fixing, please?” You blink, tapping your nails against the side of your thigh.

You do that a lot, he’s noticed. You’re kinda fidgety.

“Don’t rush me. You come in here for my skills or my charm?"

Before you can even answer, he’s brushing past you to take the keys dangling from your manicured fingers, his large hand brushing against yours.

“My bad, Dolly. I know it’s my pretty face you come here for.”

He can’t hold back a small huff when he glances at the keys in his hand. Well, it’s more a tangled up mess of pink and sparkly key chains, no surprise you need a massive purse to drag all that around.

Glancing over his shoulder as he walks out to the car, he twirls the keys around on his finger, scoffing a little at the rhinestone Playboy bunny charm.

“M’gonna go get this beauty up on a ramp, you jus’ sit there and look pretty, alright?”

Yeah. Unlike your driving skills, you’re good at that, sitting there all dolled up.

Pretty, he called you pretty.

Is it stupid that you feel almost giddy when he says that?

You’re sat up on the workbench now, dangling your heels off of your feet as you swing your legs, the soft click of your nails against the phone screen filling the room along with a confused grumble every couple minutes from Jason, internally wondering how the fuck you managed to get a car as formidable as a Chevy impala run down like this.

He’s stood over the hood of your car with his hands on his hips, shaking his head. He looks more like he’s trying to start a barbecue and not checking your engine.

“Dolly?” He pipes up suddenly, scratching the back of his neck.

“Mhm?” You tilt your head up tossing your phone back into your purse before hopping off of the counter again, the click of your heels hitting the concrete soon following.

“You got your logbook anywhere?”

Silence.

You blink, tilting your head to the side like he’s just asked you to solve some kind of mystery.

“The blue book, I filled it out the last time you had your car serviced here.” He explains.

“Oh,” You let out a sheepish chuckle, your hands instinctively going to smooth over the pockets on your skirt. Yeah, as if you’d have a whole logbook in your fucking pocket. As if it would even fit in a skirt that short.

“It’s in there.. somewhere?” You offer with an awkward gesture of your hand, your charm bracket slinking against your watch.

“Yeah, I’d hope so.” Jason sighs, reaching an arm up to close the hood.

“I’ll check your glovebox, you check in the back, yeah?”

“Shit,” You’re now rooting through every pocket, every single possible compartment, tossing your empty shopping bags to the side in search of it.

It’s one stupid little book, how hard can it be?

His brows arch in amusement as he digs through your glovebox. It’s all so stupidly you. Rifling through piles of CDs in hopes of it somehow being sandwiched between Britney Spears - Greatest Hits and Lady Gaga -The Fame.

To his dismay, it ain’t. It’s just bubblegum wrappers and a bizarre amount of sunglasses and mismatched earrings as far as the eye can see.

“Any luck back there, Barbie?” He mumbles, ready to crawl into the back with you to help you try find it.

When you shake your head, he sighs, leaning his hand against the console with the other gripping the passenger side headrest to get in the back.

- - CLICK - -

You blink, staring at Jason for a moment as he lands himself beside you.

His eyes aren’t on you though, he’s staring at the window, more focused on the fact he just accidentally locked you two inside your car.

“Where’s the key?” Jason sits up slightly, glancing at you with his eyebrows furrowed expectantly.

You’re staring back at him like a deer in headlights, trying not to focus on the fact that your car just lacks AC and his abs are looking a little too good under that vest for your liking.

“My purse?” you’re not entirely sure, but it’s the only place you can imagine they’d be.

Okay, just one small issue.

Your purse is currently out on the workbench, hung up somewhere between a carjack and a set of screwdrivers.

You begin your internal panic, death by a hot car with an even hotter guy inside? Yeah, you’re cooked, you’re done. You want a pink casket at your funeral and-

“Hey,” Jason snaps you out of it after a moment, his hand tentatively moving to rest on your knee, his thumb pressing little circles into your skin.

“We’re fine, okay? Just focus on finding me the book and I’ll sort this out later.”

You nod a little shakily, but you can’t help glancing out the window. Fuck, you can literally see your purse right there. How could you be so stupid?

“Dolly, c’mon.” He sighs, noticing how you’re gnawing at your acrylics with a small grimace.

He leans back in his seat a little, letting his head thump against the window, he’s doing that stupid man-spread thing they always tend to do, his thighs taking up almost the entirety of your backseat.

“Look, we’ll be okay. Dick’s coming here in about an hour or something, cause I need him to sort my taxes. We’ll tell him the keys are in your purse, alright?”

He may have the emotional intelligence of a teaspoon, but he can tell you’re thinking the worst-case scenario, as ridiculous as it may be. You don’t like enclosed spaces, that’s fine.

A small tug at your hand prompts you to land in his lap, facing him as his fingers drum against the leather by his sides.

“Have you checked your pockets?”

“What?” You blink.

“For the logbook,”

You figure he’s just trying to make you laugh, trying to distract you from the thoughts of impending doom. It’s silly, but part of you likes that he’s trying. You like that he cares.

“How do you expect me to keep it in a skirt like this?” You scoff, glancing down at the denim skirt clinging to your hips. It barely fits your phone in your pocket without your ass basically hanging out.

“Dunno,” he hums, his fingers now tapping lightly against your thighs.

“I should check, maybe it’s in there.”

When you roll your eyes, he offers a small smirk, his hands crawling up your hips to slip into your back pockets, giving your ass a squeeze.

He’s about as subtle as a punch to the face.

“Jason!” You sputter, your first giving his chest a half-assed little punch.

“What?” He shrugs, his hands still very much resting atop your ass, squeezing again just to see how you react.

“M’just checking, Dolly, don’t get your panties in a twist.”

The smirk just doesn’t leave his face, he likes to see how your cheeks heat up, about as pink as your silly little nails.

“My panties are not in a twist, Jason.”

Except, they are.

They have been since he pulled you into his lap like you weigh absolutely nothing. They have been since you saw him roll out from under that car. They have been since you were on your phone, pretending to text someone whilst you were actually staring at the muscles rippling in under his skin.

“Hello?” He coos, giving your forehead a little poke when he notices you zone out, his hand slowly moving back down to your skirt to hook his fingers into your belt loops, pulling your hips down against his a little more.

“Y’still with me?” He mumbles, his lips gently brushing against your jaw.

You blink, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to ignore both the heat in your cheeks and the one between your thighs.

“Hm?”

“I asked if you’re still with me,” Jason grins, his gaze following your necklace down to the little diamond pendant with the first letter of your name (if Regina George has one, so do you), and then a little lower to your cleavage.

“You’re not very subtle,” You mumble, fidgeting with your charm bracelet as you tilt your head to glance out the window once more, berating yourself mentally about those keys.

“And you’re not very focused,” He counters, giving the pendant on your necklace a little tug to pull your attention back towards him.

What the fuck are you even supposed to be focused on? Searching for the logbook? The sweltering heat inside your car? The fact you can feel his hand literally crawling up under your skirt? The fact he’s rubbing his thumb in little circles against your panties?

You open your mouth to say something snarky, only to be cut off by a small chuckle coming from the back of his throat.

“Don’t think too hard, you’ll hurt your head.”

“Shuddup,” you mumble sheepishly, staring at him through your falsies with a slightly forced laugh, trying to ignore his wandering hand.

“I’m not doing anything.” Jason shrugs like it’s nothing, keeping one hand between your legs as the other slides up under your shirt, gently stroking your back as if to ease you.

You don’t give a fuck about the stuck-in-the-car situation anymore, your brain is mostly occupied by the stuck-with-Jason situation.

“You’re not looking at me,”

Thank you Jason, for that astute observation.

“Why?” He presses on, his hand sliding out from under your shirt to tilt your face up to his, raising his eyebrows as if you’re overreacting.

His grip is a little tight, but not painful. Why would he wanna put a frown on your pretty face, after all?

Your pout at his teasing makes him chuckle slightly, offering a nonchalant shrug as his eyes roam over your face, still lazily rubbing his thumb against your underwear.

“Pretty lashes,” He points out, acting like this is a completely normal conversation to be having.

Still, you’re flattered. A compliment is a compliment, yeah?

“They’re fake.” You mumble sheepishly, staring down at your lap.

That earns a tiny scoff, you feel his hand tilting your chin up again, tilting his head to the side.

“So? They’re cute.”

You force out a small chuckle, feeling his eyes scanning every detail of your face. You can’t even hide the flush on your cheeks.

“These are cute too.” He continues, his large hand gently wrapping around your wrist, glancing down at the pink charms on your nails.

He lets go after a moment, pushing your skirt up your hips a little, his fingers hooked into the belt loops.

“Can’t forget these,” Jason mumbles, a small smirk gracing his features when he hears the slight hitch in your breath, watching the subtle shift of your hips.

“Now these are cute.” His hands wander further up your thighs, lightly hooking his fingers into the hem of your lacy underwear to give it a small tug, his smirk unwavering.

“Shuddup,” you mutter under your breath, reaching a hand up to gently adjust your lashes, trying to ignore his hand between your thighs.

“That ain’t nice, Dolly.” He mumbles into your neck, his teeth gently dragging over your smooth skin before nipping at it slightly, his breath hot against your flesh.

He’s been condescending, pretty much mocking you in subtle little ways ever since you marched your pretty ass into his garage.

If everything about you is so cute and pretty, he’d bet his whole life savings that your sounds are too.

And he’s all too happy to test that theory.

His hand slips away from your panties for a moment, giving the side of your thigh a little smack, his strong hands pressing into your thighs as he flips you around.

He was right. He knew he would be.

You shift your legs awkwardly when he basically tosses you around however he sees fit, acting like that shit doesn’t turn you on.

Glancing down at how you’re pressing your knees together again, he smacks your other thigh, just a tiny bit harder, pulling your back against his chest, grinning into your neck at the little squeak you unintentionally let out.

“You squeal like a fuckin’ bunny, you know that?”

Your skirt is now bunched up around your midsection, your breathing a little shaky as you feel his fingers tracing over your panties again, lightly circling his thumb against your clit through the thin lace.

“Jason, shuddup.” You repeat for like the tenth time, only to be met with a smirk against the back of your neck.

“Is that all you’re able to say to me now, bunny? shuddup, shuddup, shuddup?” He’s mocking you now, putting on a squeaky little voice and everything, paired with an exaggerated pout into your neck before he lightly bites again.

“You’re mean.”

“Oh, am I? Poor you,” He mumbles into your jaw, his other hand going to your neck, gently tilting your head up while his fingers hook into the lace, pulling it down your thighs.

His eyes remain locked on your face in the rearview mirror, watching how your lips part slightly.

“Open your mouth f’me, Dolly.”

“Huh?” You mumble a little breathlessly, your expression a little dazed in the small mirror.

“Y’heard me, open your mouth.” He repeats, his middle and ring fingers gently prodding at your chin.

With a shaky sigh, you part your lips, your lashes fluttering slightly.

“Atta girl,” Jason mumbles in slight amusement, almost impressed with how easily you listen to him. It’s not like you usually tend to have much going on in that little head of yours, anyway.

His fingers press down on your tongue, just resting there for a moment as he feels you trying your push yourself down against his lap a bit harder, leaving a little wet patch on his jeans.

He presses a small kiss to the back of your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder, his fingers pushing a little further into your mouth, pressing your tongue down.

It’s useless for him to try to stifle a huff of amusement when you gag, slowly pulling his fingers back, covered in your spit.

“You’re real pretty, yknow that?” His voice is a soft rasp against your neck, lightly rubbing his fingers against your clit, pressing a little kiss to his jaw.

“Uh-huh,” you manage a weak nod, tilting your head back against him with a shaky sigh, your teeth pressing into your bottom lip.

“Good.”

He’d burn a fucking CD full of your little sighs and dumb little squeaks if he could.

It’s so obvious he’s doing this on purpose too, his fingers moving against you at an almost agonisingly slow pace. It’s partly cause he doesn’t wanna rush things.

But mostly cause he wants to hear you whine a little more. He lives for that stupid little pout on your glossy lips.

“Jason..” Your words come out as an almost silent plea, your hips lifting to try to push against his hand a little harder, only to be met with another smack to your thigh.

“M’not gonna let you rush me - sorry, Dolly.” He tilts your head to the side, admiring your flushed face in the mirror once more - it’s hard for him to take his eyes off of it, actually.

When he’s had enough fun making you pant, he finally decides to be decent enough to actually give you something, slowly thrusting his fingers in and out of your sopping cunt, kissing behind your ear as if his strong arm is wrapped around your torso like a vice, bouncing his thigh a little bit every now and then, just to mess with you even more.

“Y’still with me, bunny?” He’s holding your neck now, his thumb rubbing over your kiss-swollen lips, lightly pushing it between them.

“Mhm,”

You’re not sure whether to nod or shake your head, and before you can even answer he’s grinding you down into his thigh again, gripping your hips hard in whatever way he wants, his fingers likely to leave little bruises on your hip-bones.

He should kiss those better later, he thinks.

“Yeah, pretty girl?” His hands slide up your hips to your torso, his fingers pressing into your ribs as he moves you around to lie down on the backseat, his thigh slotting between your legs as he fumbles with his belt, grinding himself against you slightly.

And that’s when you see it.

Your car keys are right there, in his fucking front pocket.

And you never even thought to question him.

a/n: I have the feminine urge to gnaw at his arms like a rabid dog.

Jason Todd m.list

[undercvrfan444]

Before Brother’sBsf!Satoru left for college, the two of you had a rather…strange relationship.

The first time the two of you met, you wouldn’t speak to him. Actually—you avoided him!

He was 15 in his freshman year of highschool when Suguru came into his life, and ultimately you as well. Your first introduction was on a particularly rainy evening after the boys had gotten out of school. Satoru and your brother were glued to the hip from day 1, so it was only natural that Suguru wanted him to meet his family as soon as possible.

You had roughly a 2 year age gap, so Satoru thought trying to connect wouldn’t be THAT difficult!

That thought went out the door once he started hanging out more.

For about a year after meeting Satoru, you were in a constant state of your face being flushed and feeling like you’d crawl out of your skin whenever he looked your way.

And talking was out of the question 100%.

The first sign at there being a possibility that Satoru would address you personally, you were flustered beyond belief. Suguru would tease you relentlessly when Satoru wasn’t around because of your awkward behavior.

It was entirely lighthearted, but you always tried just a tad too hard to defend yourself when your brother would bring the silver haired boy up.

Pretty much every interaction between the two of you for the first year and a half of knowing one another ended with you desperately searching for a way to NOT be around Satoru.

In the beginning months it didn’t bother the older boy.

He thought you simply had a shy personality, and he wasn’t going to push you out of your comfort zone. However, as time passed and he heard stories of how talkative you were from Suguru, he started to get butt hurt when you wouldn’t so much as smile at him.

He pretty much lived at your house with how much he came around, so it made no sense to him!

Truthfully, he only started to get upset about your reluctancy to speak to him after he saw you at school one day by total accident. There were three people around you, 2 girls and a boy, who were laughing loudly at something you must have said.

As Satoru walked past the class room’s open door, he got a glimpse of the prettiest smile he’d ever seen. Your head was leaned back as you laughed along with your friends, and for the first time in his life, he was jealous.

When Satoru would ask Suguru if he possibly offended his little sister, Suguru would “joke” about how “she has a crush on you man!”

That little remark went on to age like fine wine.

Satoru was in his senior year of highschool when you decided to finally let him into your life. You were a sophomore at this point, and boys weren’t such a taboo subject!

Actually, once you let Satoru in, you never let him go.

Constantly following after him, finding a way to be close, talking his ear off when he’d come over, and stealing glances when you knew you shouldn’t.

It kind of gave Satoru whiplash seeing the new you.

Not that he didn’t love it. Whatever you put in, he would put right back out. He’d come in your room and pester you when he was over, bring you a coffee he swore he just “happened to get”, offer to help you with any schoolwork, and take you home from school some days.

You were so unbelievably sweet and kind to the people you loved. Always sporting a smile on your face, baking things to hand out even if it was something small, and going out of your way to help someone.

Everything Satoru had missed out on all that time, he was experiencing finally. And quite frankly couldn’t get enough of the “new” you!

Unfortunately though, senior year of highschool ended and Satoru wound up hours away at some big college for sports.

Your brother and him had both made it onto the school’s basketball team, so that meant they were always busy with both academic and athletic activities.

In the time Satoru was away, you truly blossomed into a young woman.

Puberty had taken its course and blessed you with curves that most girls dreamed about. Your chest had filled out nicely to give you a perky advantage. And, with the help of the gym, you had a killer core and a good sized ass!

You had become confident as well. Dating a few boys here and there that you thought were decently developed for a high schooler. You were a complete different person after Satoru left.

Maybe it was because you weren’t always worried about messing up in front of him.

Maybe it was finally having the space to grow into who you always wanted to be without being scared.

Or maybe. Just maybe. You melded yourself into a new person so you could finally have the attention you so desperately craved from a certain older presence.

AN: i’m really in love with this version of Satoru so I want to make like a mini series for him 😉

[k3n-dyll]

Kingpin!Sevika

||Men, minors, and ageless DNI

CW: Dom!Sevika, sub!reader, Sevika is mean, degradation, free use kinda,squirting, cunnilingus (r! receiving), face fucking (S!receiving), fingering, AFAB reader, pussy slaps, aftercare, she loves you but won't say it

A/N: I just had some thoughts I needed to get out, this was meant to just be a few headcanons but it got a little long

Word count: 1,494 Divider creds. Masterlist

kingpin!Sevika who's taken Silco's place after his untimely death. In need of a right hand of her own, she chose you

kingpin!Sevika who- though, of course, chose you because you're capable, loyal, and trustworthy -just as she had been to Silco- also has a few...personal reasons as to why she made this decision.

You're a tough girl and she is well aware of that. She acknowledges it quite often, always telling you how well you do with the missions she leaves you in charge of. From someone like Sevika, that praise is a lot, and though frequent, it comes in small packaging. Short, sweet remarks that may seem like nothing to anyone else

"Y'did good." "Keep it up."

Or even just a head nod or pat on the back or shoulder to show that she approves of what you've done. It's the ultimate sign that she respects you.

kingpin!Sevika who would keep you by her side 24/7, 365 if she was able to. When you aren't out doing an assignment, a good amount of your workdays are spent in her office, either standing beside her as she sits lazily in the large chair behind her desk, as she uses you as a second pair of ears and eyes while she meets with the other chembarons - or, simply discussing future plans.

kingpin!Sevika whose sharp, silver eyes track your every movement at the end of the day when you're finally alone with her. Watching you fidget with the little nicknacks on her desk as you report back the events of the day, not making full eye contact with her because you know what's coming. There aren't many other reasons she'd have locked her office door completely after letting you in, it isn't like anyone had the gall to barge in unannounced.

"Strip" she'd mutter, fully interrupting whatever you were telling her because, at this point, she's more annoyed at the fact that you're still dressed than she is at some of the cargo being compromised due to the negligence of her blockhead henchmen - she'll take care of that later.

kingpin!Sevika who isn't one for talking about it once you do as you're told because of course you do, shedding yourself of the fabric that shields your body from her intense gaze, giving her a bit of a show because she'd scold you if you rushed.

kingpin!Sevika who can't seem to go a full five seconds without marking you once you're propped up on her leg, naked except for your underwear. She especially loves leaving marks on your tits, biting and sucking on the fat around your nipple, leaving as many pretty little bruises on your skin as she pleases with no real regard for how intense the feeling may be for you

As much as she likes making you feel good, this is about what she wants. She's had a stressful, rage-inducing day and this is the part of your job that she loves just as much as you do. The part where she gets to take out all her frustrations on your body. She's always rough with you, never giving you a second to catch your breath, and though one would think you'd be used to this treatment by now, it takes you by surprise every time. Her strong hands feel like they're everywhere at once, grabbing at your ass, your waist, your thighs, your tits - anywhere she can hold you to keep you close.

kingpin!Sevika who gets impatient with her own teasing rather quickly, a breathy, "fuck this" escaping her thick lips, because she needs to see and touch all of you. Using her mechanical arm to swat at the contents of her desk, allowing the paperwork, the merchandise, and whatever else is up there at the moment to crash to the floor below because it doesn't matter right now. None of it is you. She forces you up onto the surface of her desk, wasting no time in getting your panties off of you, kissing down the length of your body as she lightly presses a finger to your pussy, starting at your leaking hole - a low chuckle leaving her as she feels you begin to clench around nothing- then trailing up your pretty folds until she makes contact with your already swollen clit. The way you squirm and twitch underneath her is enough for her to let out a groan, not giving you much warning before two of her thick fingers plunge inside of you.

"Shut it" she murmurs against your skin when you whine at the sudden fullness, and you're so good to her that you actually try - and fail - to keep quiet. Sevika doesn't actually expect you to succeed, but she loves watching you struggle to obey, sliding her fingers in and out of your drooling cunt at a faster pace the harder you try. "Such a fucking slut, look at that..." she pulls her slick-coated fingers out of you, the emptiness making you whimper. Ever the sadist, she hears this and just like that her mechanical hand squeezes onto your thigh, keeping you in place as her real one lifts up slightly, the palm of her hand coming back into contact with your pussy with a smack. "I said keep that fucking trap shut." In the end, though, it doesn't really matter what you do - biting your lip, clenching your teeth, hell, trying to cover your mouth with your hand - it doesn't work.

kingpin!Sevika who would overstimulate you until you were a mumbling, babbling, drooling little mess, ignoring the aching in between her own thighs and fucking into you with her fingers, rubbing the pad of her thumb over your clit with each hard thrust. After you've sufficiently begged her enough through your ragged breathing and incoherent words, she'll even let you have her mouth, flattening the pink muscle and dragging it up your slit before latching her soft lips to your sensitive bud, sucking on it. Your body jerks forward at the feeling, your hands knotting into her short black locks as your thighs press to the sides of her head. Despite how sensitive she's made you, you can't stop yourself from grinding yourself into her mouth, desperate for yet another release.

kingpin!Sevika who will force you by your pretty hair down off of the desk and onto your knees in front of her, peeling her own jeans and underwear off of her body, unable to take waiting anymore. She's not giving you much of a chance to recover from all the overstimulation, nor is she even going to let you go at your own pace. No. If there's one thing this woman loves doing its gathering all your hair up into her hand and pushing your face into her dripping cunt, rutting herself onto your tongue as you keep it out and flattened for her as instructed.

"You like when I fuck that slutty face of yours, yeah?" she'd cut you off before you got the chance to even try to answer, not that she'd even understand whatever muffled words youd attempt anyways. "Yeah you do, pretty girl - fuck - take it, baby, just like that..."

kingpin!Sevika who's a squirter for sure. You aren't coming back up from your knees without being fucking drenched in her juices and she loves every second of it. An even more cruel part of her wants to push your head to the ground and force you to lick up whatever you missed off of the floor, but she settles for making you clean it up off of her inner thighs, pulling you up for a hot, hard kiss when you're done.

kingpin!Sevika who literally will not let you leave her office until you're all cleaned up and taken care of. In stark contrast to how rough she was with you a moment ago, she'd treat you like a fragile little thing once it's all said and done. You aren't allowed to clean yourself off, no. that's her job. She's not letting you put your own clothes on, not without any help at least. And as much as she may threaten to "make sure you can't walk out of this office properly" she will hold you in her lap until you've somewhat regained your balance.

"You okay?" is likely the most you'd get out of her in terms of sweet words, verbal affection isn't really her forte, but her actions always show that she cares more than she lets on.

It's like this every time, Sevika gently rubbing your aching muscles and pressing gentle kisses into your skin as you come down from the intensity of it all, but she won't talk. Sometimes she even gets back to work while you recover, but she never asks you to leave. She doesn't want you to leave and both of you know that, but you've both decided that it's better left unsaid.

[yanderenightmare]

Gojo Satoru

TW: angst ig

gn reader

Gojo has loved you forever.

When the two of you were toddlers, he was never shy about kissing you and holding your hand. It was only when the two of you began school that he was taught that it wasn’t proper – a schooling that made him frown.

But his love for you never dimmed despite it. Growing up, he became nothing shy of a true bully pulling his crush’s pigtails. He’d flash his six-eyes and limitless techniques and tease you for your subpar cursed energy – often rescuing you like a faux knight in shining armor.

But despite acting like your older brother – he’s really been dreaming of you in carnal ways ever since he first found out what sex was.

Which is why he’d sling his arm around your shoulder when you were talking with other guys – having grown up so tall, he’d have to all but bow in order to level with the small fries – a sly smirk on his lips with his shades low on his nose.

“Ah – I didn’t know you had a boyfriend – I’m sorry.” They’d always stutter – feeling the chills of those icy blues pierce through to their bones.

“Ugh, Gojo – get off – you’re too heavy.” You’d argue in a familiar whine, shoving at his lanky shape – already fuming. “He’s not my boyfriend – he’s just a dumbass with no respect for personal space.”

“Oh – I’m more than that~” He’d insist. “Y’know, we got married on the playground when we were six.”

You’d roll your eyes at his attics. Huffing out a growl at him. But no amount of clenched fists and angry brows could hide the embarrassment. And ultimately, no guy really dared try their luck with you after being introduced to the white-haired childhood friend giving them death glares.

Which is why it’s baffling when he finds out about the wedding.

He’d seen you less and less over the years. He’d been busy as the newly awakened honored one – new missions almost every day. 

You’d capped out as a second-grade sorcerer and decided to become a teacher in Kyoto – sent out on missions every now and again, but mostly just to supervise students. 

He’d been glad you settled on something safe and not something you’d sooner end up being killed – like him. But he wasn’t overly fond that you’d chosen Kyoto over Tokyo where he could keep an eye on you.

But he supposes that’s exactly why you’d done it.

He knows he coddles you – knows you’ve always hated it – knows you hate it because you know he’s right to do it – knows you’d be dead if it weren’t for him.

How could you marry someone else? How could you choose anyone other than him?

He doesn’t respond to the invite. Doesn’t answer when you call. 

He’s gone for several months. 

You know through the assistant supervisors that he’s still accepting missions – out on the prowl, killing curses – doing little else.

You try to deny knowing why he’s upset. You love him like family, but he’s always been a child with too many toys – you, one of them. This is him throwing a fit over someone else taking what’s his.

But you know he’ll come to his senses after cooling off. You know he’ll be at the wedding – all smiles – if not happy, then pretending for your sake. 

In all his strange ways, you know that he loves you. And despite being childish, you know he’ll do the adult thing and let you go.

The two of you would never have worked. Which is why you’ve never given in to his googly eyes – that hand on your thigh when the two of you’d been drinking – that lingering stare resting on your lips – and those silver-toned words on his.

He’s with someone new every other week despite his unfair hold on you – keeping you for himself – placing you on a shelf among the other things he hopes he’ll one day grow into – like a pair of shoes bought a size too big.

But you know he’ll never get there. He’ll never mature enough to hold a relationship for any longer than a month or so – never mature enough to settle down somewhere and not hotel-hop from one five-star to the next – never mature enough to respect you the same way he respects himself – never mature enough to commit to anything but himself.

The two of you could never be a couple. You could never love each other in the ways you want to be loved. He would want you to stay at home and wait for him to come back – longingly as a sweet housewife would – and you’d want him to encourage you in your respectful career – happy for you like a supportive husband would. None of it matched.

You love him, but you would never be happy with him. You would never feel respected. 

So, that night when the two of you’d shared a kiss – you’d held him at arm's length and told him it was a mistake – that it would only serve to ruin your friendship. 

He’d taken it as you being flighty – just a cute road bump before you’d finally realize you were meant for him – before you’d come running to his arms with pretty tears dropping from your eyes while throwing yourself at him – all apologies and confessions and desperate kisses – telling him you couldn't live without him.

But there you are…

Walking down the aisle for someone else.

[messyemmy]

How would y/n be around a very soft and shy Harry?

"SOFTBOY HARRY STYLES DRABBLE/BLURB"

(... So I fucked up, got carried away... H turned from very soft to sometimes soft-mostly shy, slutty boy. I apologise for my filthy brain!)

Other Writing

🍭

Ooh, an opportunity for the energetic, boisterous Y/n to tease and dote on him?? 

How could she turn that opportunity down?

Especially since this handsome and aloof specimen- all wrapped up in soft curls and a new knitted jumper each day- is the most interesting thing to happen at their workplace for god knows how long. 

Shy Harry who Y/n finds just so very cute- whenever she catches his gaze, always doe-eyed and seemingly caught by surprise, whenever any attention is sent his way, and a strong rosy blush creeps across his sweetheart face- she thinks he is simply adorable! 

Her coworkers are just as intrigued as she- fascinated with the new data analyst and his standoffish demeanour. He keeps to himself, mumbling greetings and questions with a shortness that leaves most wondering who the hell his deal is. 

Especially when he always declines invitations for lunch and drinks after hours, even after almost six months of employment, he seems to be as curt as day one. 

So, naturally, it becomes Y/n’s mission to win over his affections… and with the knowledge of his favourite bagels and preferred coffee, it’s not hard to soften him when she delivers them so casually to his desk each morning. 

Well, ‘soften’ means that he no longer jumps when she sweetly sings, “Mornin’ Harry!” and now, he even smiles timidly and thanks her. 

So she starts to add in little quips, jokes about the weather, and Pete, the worst secretary of all time.

Then it turns to offhand compliments, "those glasses really frame your face", "you have such nice handwriting!", "Where'd you get such pretty eyelashes, huh?" Anything to get his juicy cheeks to swell with basfulness.

Harry’s unsure of what to do in these situations- no matter how many nights he’s thought over how and what he could do in response, every single time Y/n greets him- her eyes as bright as her personality- he feels the words slip from his tongue, too busy revelling in her crooked smile. 

There’s gotta be some way for Harry to show his appreciation for her gestures… he has ideas of simply buying her favourite coffee, or perhaps asking how her day’s going… and he has ideas of grandeur, gently squishing her chubby cheeks between his palms and planting the most grateful of kisses on her always-glossy lips… or getting on his knees for her, saying thank you like the goodest of boys. 

It’s only late into the end-of-year corporate party when Harry is a glass and a half down the finest whisky that’s ever graced his tongue- and Y/n is over there by the fireplace, the back of her legs bare, facing the fireplace, greatly engrossed in a conversation with a colleague- that he finally finds himself in her hold.

Maybe it’s the fact that they’re no longer in a ‘work’ environment, or perhaps it has to do with that sparkling silver draped so perfectly across her curves… What ultimately encourages Harry to make his move is the anything-but-subtle glances- even winks- she keeps sending his way. 

He finds himself unable to stop the gravitational pull that lures him straight into her arms, which are quickly slung across his shoulders. 

Once he has her slotted between himself and a wall, she’s too receptive for his shyness to regain control, pressing such sweet, sloppy kisses along his clavicle, up his neck, behind his ear- a quick flick of the tongue to his lobe. 

He’s a shuddering mess, but he can’t feel an ounce of shame as her skin so easily goosebumps under the strokes of his wandering hands. 

Her little sighs and near-moans are like a melody, it has Harry forgetting about anything and everything outside of the feel of her leg hooked to his thigh, the tantalising tugs and scratches her nails leave at the nape of his neck. 

What Harry is most grateful for is her lack of questions. She doesn’t bring up their ‘awkward’ encounters, too fixated on the excitement of his sudden surety to mock his switch in demeanour.

So, even when the drive back to her apartment is rather quiet, the scalding pressure of her soft palm in his own is surety enough. 

 It’s like she knew without words and soothes his racing thoughts to a silence that leaves him rushing with arousal and endearment. 

And then, oh boy. 

Nobody said Harry was shy in the bedroom. 

The opposite couldn't be more true. He’s a chatty little thing- while he slowly unzips and strips her of her dress, in between hasty kisses, praising her each time a new part of her stands exposed to him. 

Y/n revels in the way his eyes are devoid of their usual doubt, oozing dark desire at the mere sight of her- the only thing he questions is where to start- where to lick and nip and squeeze at first. 

Y/n underestimated this- but she shouldn't be surprised by his eager and ambitious desire to please. To do a good job- the best job. 

He has her everywhere- bent over, back arched, his hand curled in her hair; his expansive palms squeezing her hips as she bounces above him; her thighs clamped around his head; fisting the sheets and suffocating him with both her thighs her moans. 

And he’s all, “You’re such a good girl”, “Taking me so well, “Like it when I make you squirm, sweetheart?” 

So, naturally, Y’n’s all, “Please please please please”. 

In the break of day, waking up to the gentle rays of sun, the faint snores of Y/n snuggled against him, all of that anxiety comes rushing back to Harry and he’s close to exploding with embarrassment, thoughts spiralling of what a huge mess he’s just made. 

But Y/n unknowingly soothes him- moments away from a panic attack- with the promise of freshly brewed coffee and brekkie. She only comments on his verbal enthusiasm once, simply stating that she liked his voice. 

Back at work on Monday, Harry can’t help himself from slipping back into his comfortably isolated bubble. 

It’s not like the world changed- even if the only thing he can truly be certain about is how much he’s come to like Y/n, and how badly he wants to spend more time with her- to let her listen to him ramble on… about anything and everything. He’s sure she’d listen… maybe even enjoy what he has to say.

When he greets her the same as every day before, it leaves a little sting in her heart, and for the first time, she feels doubtful about how Harry sees her. 

Y/n is elated with the new developments between her and Harry- she likes that he trusts her enough to break his vow of silence, even if it did take some coaxing. But she’d be silly to think he would suddenly do a 180 and turn into a chatterbox. 

During lunch, when Y/n finds herself frustratedly fighting a fruit juice bottle for access, her mind is a mess of questions upon questions. 

But just as she never left Harry to feel insecure for long, he does the same for her as he quietly slinks behind her, reaching out for his own OJ, his upper body bowing so his strawberry lips press to the shell of her ear, cool and minty breath fanning her features as he mutters lowly, “Been thinking about you. A lot.” 

And then he’s gone and she’s a fireball of relief and thick desire. 

This becomes his new thing; Soft and shy Harry catching Y/n alone whenever the chance permits, whispering filthy, tantalising, sweet nothings for only her to hear- sometimes letting his fingers sweep the curves of her jaw, or her lower back, once he even risks a kiss to the corner of her lips- which are always parted in surprise around Harry. 

And now, Y/n's the blushing mess… it’s only fair. 

🍭

(You can send me more requests/suggestions for how Y/n and *insert trope* Harry would interact! -Emmy 💞).

[simplyreveries]

Diasomnia boys with a reader that's really prone to panic attacks, but hides it really well?

Like, sometimes they get really jittery and stuff, but that's just them being them! It gets better, usually. If not, they go to the bathroom chill, even when they're literally going to die inside.

And they kinda knew cause they went on a boat date, then they just kinda started saying they were uncomfortable and stuff and they ended up having a huge panic attack, like how would they react?

malleus draconia

he is very observant, especially over someone like you. it's his own way of showing care and affection if anything. malleus usually seems to have a watchful eye over you-- your wellbeing is something he finds really important to him. he can quite easily tell how nervous and how much anxiety building up in you. with that being, however, he is a bit... awkward showing how much he does want to help you. he doesn't understand that part well. now, he doesn't express it, but it does he feels a strange and foreign sense of powerlessness because he wants to be able to magically take it all away.

malleus is incredibly gentle; he does go out of his way to still try even though he can't fully solve it for you. when he notices the jitteriness or even as soon as you seem to be unable to focus, if you're alright with the touch- he'll carefully slip his hand to hold yours and trace his thumb over the top of your hand. he will give you reassuring affirmations or looks. though, he tends to just slip you away from whatever you're around and give you the best sense of peace he can.

with that being said, that's what he prompts to- he knows you seemed to feel somewhat better during your times with him outside ramshackle at night, where you may find comfort just trying to ease your breathing outside. he'll be there, quiet but someone for you if you wish to speak. and once again, because this is still new for him- whatever you want practically goes because he just ultimately wants you to feel better. so even if that's space, stay in silence, or talk about something else to get your mind off it. he will gladly give any of it.

lilia vanrouge

lilia already has this caring and doting nature around him- and that always applies to you. he can sense what you're feeling from a mile away. he knows you so well already and only wants nothing more than to help you. lilia genuinely wants to be someone you can lean and rely on. despite the trouble or teasing to others he can bring- he is very careful around you. especially during the aftermath of any of them, he is ready to be there.

he is always seeming to check on you. when you seem to be bouncing your leg, fidgeting, biting your lip or nails- very quick to notice- he'll calmy hush a "do you want my help, dearest?" something of that sorts and give a reassuring smile. he never wants you to feel bad for it and make it any kind. he also wants the approval from you if you want or need him around to ease yourself.

when you've dealt with one, carefully, he'll try to ease and calm you down after the adrenaline high you were just experiencing. he'll always seem to have a caring smile on his face when he asks if you''ll let him hold you for a moment. i have a feeling his hugs, with the addition of soft humming or strokes are the epitome of safe.

silver

at first, he was new to handling these kinds of things- he felt completely unsure how to help when all he wanted to do was do just that. much like malleus, but honestly, probably even more so- his quiet nature can most likely prove to be some help when it comes to your panic nature. anything he says or does, even if he is a bit internally worried about how to handle it himself, is so gentle and soothing. it hurts him seeing how much you have to deal with- so he'll do everything and anything he can for you. in moments especially where you're talking to others and feeling anxious, he'll take over for you.

silver is protective by default; it only heightens around you. he wants nothing more than for you to be and feel safe. he is knight, he really couldn't push that part away from him if he tries. in the midst of the moment his focus is solely onto you. if you'd allow him, he hold your hands and let you squeeze them as tight as you want, trying to help guide you through it the best way he can. even if it's difficult and you feel like a mess, he is right there with a worried look and this aching desire to fix it for you.

after it slowly wears of, he might recommend and try coaxing you to fall asleep. he doesn't leave your side if your comfortable enough to allow yourself to. he'll lightly trace your arm and try to have you match your breathing with his.

sebek zigvolt

sebek would probably have the most confused time trying to help you- not in a bad way- like anyone else he wants to help you, but he has zero clue how to even begin the first few times. he gets so concerned and when he gets worried it comes out as loud unintentionally. or maybe even aggressive to others in a sense of thinking someone was bothering you. and clearly that's the last thing you would need, so he tries his best to be more cautious of himself for you. there are times where he's been kneeled in front of you sitting looking up to you with a "tell me what i can do for you" attitude. he gets so serious,,,

like silver, he's a knight and wants you with a sense of security- he doesn't want to feel like he failed you on that. he would go out of his way after he starts to slowly understand them- to spend his spare time reading about it and even go to lilia for help on comfort. so, at times like this during an instance on a date he would be ready all the more.

him trying to help you does feel rather by-the-book scientific ways of helping you get through it. but he genuinely tries and is solemn about it. he does stumble a bit nervously sometimes, because he still can't quite think straight when you're experiencing anything sorts of bad. but sebek does his absolute best.

[papathe5th]

Okay so dismiss this prompt if you find it gross; it's not everyone's thing; but what about a Papa V x female/afab!reader in which, SOMETHING like this anyway, I want the reader to be worshipping Papa V after he's done a show and he's all sweaty and slick and in need of a shower; maybe shes a brand new wardrobe assistant and finds herself accidentally staring at him ravenously when he enters into the dressing room all out of breath and sweaty, shrugging his tailored dress coat off the second he gets backstage. He sees this, smirks, thinks its cute, and approaches the reader/wardrobe assistant and teases her, and ultimately she ends up kissing, licking, and undressing him. Just a rough idea!

Nonnie, if you read the WIP I posted, then you are already aware that I zeroed in on him being hot, sweaty and musky under all those layers.

I wrote this for you, but I also dived in head first into this man’s soaked up shirt and explored a couple of kinks. And I hope that me sprinkling in these aspects only adds to the experience.

LOOKING UP TO KISS THE CROWN

Pairing: Papa V Perpetua x F!Reader

Words: 3000

Rating: E (explicit)

Tags: power imbalance; D/s undertones; body worship; sweat kink; a drizzle of spit kink;

Being part of the biggest North American tour Ghost has ever embarked on is thrilling. It is so thrilling, it might be killing you.

The tour bus life was tiring, but the shows were electrifying. After a day of sweating in the summer sun came a night of chills. And you felt like life in the fast lane could last forever. Even when your heart threatened to give out every time he came around.

Papa V Perpetua prided himself on being self-sufficient. He did his hair, painted his face and even invited you, his wardrobe assistant, to have a seat and enjoy the show on the night of the first ritual.

Still, he had to acknowledge his limitations during the quick change for the performance of Majesty.

“Signorina,” he heaved, hurriedly slipping off his jacket while he sprinted backstage. “Would you be so kind as to…,” he took a second to suck in air and undo the top button on his silken shirt. “Cazzo, I’m in heat,” he chuckled and it came out as if he was strangled by thirst.

When he finally got his black-lined lips around a straw, you watched as his chest moved up and down. The black silk stuck to his skin, the sweat sealing it in against his pronounced pectorals and needling nipples.

“Already on it, sir.” And you swallowed, feeling parched, like you’ve been performing for a full house under the sweltering lights.

“Yes, you are,” he chuckled again, deeper in his chest.

You helped him unstick his leather gloves and slip on his silver gauntlets, the brush of your soft, dry fingers against his rough, wet ones giving you a much needed chill in all that suffocating heat. The robe was heavy, but you had four hands between the two of you.

When you completed the costume with the miter, he bowed his head and you crowned him as—

“You’re all set, sir.”

“Papa,” he smirked, the tip of his sharp teeth glinting down on you as he rose to his full height. “Call me Papa.”

Taking a step back to see the full set and to suck in a whole breath, you licked your lips to taste the title before you spoke it. “Papa.”

You were burning by the time he climbed up the steps and back onto the stage. Falling back into your chair, you struggled to settle your breathing. But all that conditioned air wasn’t enough to cool you down. It made your insides melt instead.

Your nose picked up on the sting of Papa’s perspiration. It clung to your clothes, sending streams of your own sweat down your spine. You were about to convince it had seeped into your skin until you followed it and found his suit jacket hanging on the back of your chair.

You heard your heart slam in your ears louder than the drum kit that accompanied his harmonies. And you felt your mouth filling up with drool when you dragged your digits along the leather collar before bringing it up to your nose.

“Papa,” you sucked your lip back into your mouth to get another taste of the title. Taking a couple of whiffs, you swallowed a mouthful of saliva along with the smell of him that now tickled your tongue.

The thirst never ceased. Three shows in, and you have yet to quench it. You also had the privilege of cleaning Papa V Perpetua’s and the Ghouls’ costumes, so you got to remove the smell out of his shirts with your nose alone. The scent of him stung your heart still, and it tortured you to know that no matter how many sniffs you stole, your lungs would never be full, your thirst would never cease and your body would never get enough of him.

Tonight, he spoiled you. You were three shows in and he learned to linger in the spot where you took his jackets off and slid another up his sweat-soaked shirt.

Oh, the things you’d do to that shirt if he ever ripped it off his torso and threw it at you. The congregation got a taste of his spit whenever he rolled a Mummy Buck into a priceless joint. Why shouldn’t you indulge in his bodily fluids?

Because you were a professional, of course. He made a giggling school girl out of you, but you had to be the grown the Ministry of Ghost hired. You had to be.

Tonight, Papa V Perpetua saw you struggling to grip his gauntlets and brought the sharp silver tip of it between his black lined lips. “I got this.” And he let it linger there until he was sure your eyes followed them inside the furnace of his mouth. It was the hottest thing you had ever witnessed.

He had his mismatched eyes on your mouth, watching you pull your lips inside to wet them, pushing his finger up along his tongue. While the smell of him wrapped around you like an ephemeral embrace, his teeth sank down his silver knuckle and he slowly pulled off his gauntlet off his sticky, sweaty hand.

Your own hand was shaking when he passed both of them to you. And his lips were stuck in a smirk for the time it took you to take off his regalia.

“Don’t forget to breathe,” he spoke through the toothy expression, turning to give you one last look at the padded shoulder of the silver suit jacket your trembling fingers guttered in.

And he was ascending to the stage again, leaving no air in his wake. Only the wave of fresh aftershave and the musk he was marinating in. And his gauntlet.

You weren’t proud of how you’ve been acting tonight. So what was one more drop of shame in the well of sins you’ve already committed? When every other pair of eyes was preoccupied with screens and other flashing things, you took the middle finger of it, and polished it with your tongue.

And it took all the pride you had left not to stick it into your mouth and suck on it. However, you couldn't stop the flood of your own saliva from filling it. The closest you’d ever get to tasting Papa.

Or so you allowed yourself to dream and forbade from hoping.

As the third night came to a close, the wave of cheers hit the backstage before the Nameless Ghouls did. You meant to aid them in pulling off their heavy, hot full-face masks, but they refused you once again.

“It’s Papa you need to take care of, little lady.”

You’d take care of Papa if he let you. But he never allowed anyone to touch his mask. If he allowed it, you’d clear his face of the paint yourself. You’d use your tongue if you had to. You’d even lick the sweat that was dripping down his back, drenching the shirt you’ve been burying your nose in every night after a ritual.

“Signorina,” he startled you. He always did. His mere presence was enough to perturb you. And you were grateful for the glorious lightning bolts that electrified you each time his left white eyes striked you.

Then his scent hit you before the heat of his body did. “Would you be so kind?” His smirk was back, sharp teeth showing and paint licked away from the lips that framed them.

“Yes, Papa,” your lips shook like dry leaves. Your tongue was soaking in saliva, so you used it to moisturise them, the tip of it touring the seams of your mouth in one circular motion.

Papa caught it. He caught you, like he always seemed to. He followed the movement as you followed behind him, catching the sequin suit jacket as he pulled it down his shoulders. You had to hold onto the sleeves to strip it off him, all that sweat of his making it stick to his shirt which was now sealed to his skin.

“Would you close the curtains?”

Papa spun around faster than you could hit the breaks and you collided into his chest.

“Cazzo,” he laughed, looking down into your wide deer eyes. And you got caught in his headlights. Then, seeing that you were trapped, he took the jacket out of your hands and tossed it towards the make-up chair.

“Scuzi, signorina,” his smirk stretched into a full grin, his blood red gums glistening with spit around the shape of it. “Allow me.” His arms rose on either side of your torso, wet silk brushing against your bare skin and leaving a wet streak of sweat along it. Before he took your breath away with a tight, hot, wet embrace, he closed the curtains separating his small corner from the rest of the backstage area.

“Breathe,” he blew hot air over your already heated forehead. And you shuddered like you’d been caught in a blizzard. “You were about to fall at my feet. You need to breathe.” He squeezed you closer, the front of your t-shirt sponging the moisture out of his button-up as your chests pushed against each other, your lungs filling with the air he was breathing over you and the perspiration it was peppered with.

With each breath, your chest got wetter. And so did your back, his gloved hands holding your spine to keep you standing straight. With every passing second, your panties got wetter. And you almost choked on the drool raining down from the roof of your mouth when you took a deep, damp, sweet-scented breath, your face buried between his pecs.

Papa sniffed your hair, his painted nose pressing against the crown of your head, smudging it against your scalp. “I should’ve let you fall,” his lips were laid against your forehead as they wrapped around the words. “You want to get on your knees for me, don’t you, dirty girl?”

“Sir,” you started, trying to swallow down your heart along with all the saliva.

He stopped you, smothering your face into his chest, snatching your hair at the back of your neck. “I told you to call me Papa.”

“Papa,” Your voice is muffled, your mouth full and your nose stuffed with the smell you tried to take into yourself for the past three days.

“Good,” his voice was low, and you felt it in his chest as your lips lay atop the flesh and fabric that was covering it. “You want to be good for your Papa, yes? You want to help him undress?”

“Yes,” you kissed the wet spot above his heart, over his left pectoral.

“Be good and get this sweaty shirt off me.” His hand closed into a fist as it combed through the hairs at the back of your neck and he forced you to face him. “Hands free,” he narrowed his eyes, but they were still blinding, glowing in the black pits of his silver mask. Unknotting his silk tie, he gathered your grabby, shaky hands behind your back where he bound them. “Use your dirty little mouth only,” he ordered, his mouth only a breath away from yours.

“Yes, Papa,” you presented him with your tongue, and he guided it with the gloved hands he knitted into your hair.

You unfastened the button at the base of his collar. A dollop of drool dared to fall on his fever hot flesh. He had you lick it up along with the black streaks of sweat rolling off his painted throat. The groan vibrated against your tongue and shook you to your core. And so did his gravelly voice when he was demanding more.

Papa pushed your head lower, leading you down the row of buttons. You sucked them into your mouth as you undid each one, a string of saliva tying them together the further down you went. When you reached the button of his belly, he pressed down on your shoulders and pushed you to your knees. “Are you gonna clean up the mess you made?”

You looked up at him with your eyes in a mist and your tongue out and ready to wipe away your wrongs.

Ripping the silk shirt off his sticky, glistening skin, he bunched it and tossed it behind him. “Look at what you did,” he took off his gloves and grabbed your hair with his large sweaty palms, twisting it between his long fingers. “You slobbered all over me,” he smashed your face against his abdomen where you nested your nose into his navel, and dragged your drooling mouth along his dark-haired happy trail. “You dirty, dirty girl.”

The salt stung your tongue and you couldn’t get enough of it. If the string of sweat that you slurped back into your mouth was what made him taste like distillates temptation then you were the sin of lust herself. His bodily fluids had been flowing through your veins in olfactory form until tonight. Until tonight, you only had the impression of him throbbing between your legs. Now, you had him penetrating your body through your taste buds. And you couldn’t get enough.

“You’ve been stealing all my towels,” Papa whiffed the air as if he could smell you. As if the entire world wasn’t surrounded by his scent, masking all other smells. At least, your world was. He was your world, your salvation and damnation, and you worshiped all of him with your tongue. “You’ve been rolling in them, rubbing yourself against them, soaking in them.”

“Forgive me, Papa,” you begged, your pleas hot and wet against the coarse hairs on his abdomen. They shimmered with your saliva after being cleaned of perfume and perspiration.

“Did you touch yourself?” He demanded an answer, his digits dragging your head back and his gaze grounding you lower than the floor you were kneeling on. “Did you come all over them?”

“Papa,” your voice was as shallow as your thirst was bottomless. You wanted to return to washing him with your tongue, to taking him inside you in one lick at a time. “Papa, please.”

And Papa knew it. And he knew your greed was greater than your little prayers.

“You want to come?”

Breathless, you let yourself be bathed in the sweat springing on the surface of your skin and the river running down your leg. You were ready for him.

“Come,” Papa flashed his fangs as he spit down on you, spraying you. “Hop on.” Shoving his shoe between your thighs, he offered you a ride. “Fuck yourself on my foot, you filthy little thing.”

You obeyed him, straddling his shoe and smothering it between your thighs as you found friction. Hot, sticky, sweaty friction.

“You want to come?”

“Yes?”

“Yes, what?”

You choked on the saliva, coughing it up and running it over your lips as you offered your mouth to him again. “Yes, Papa. I wanna come, Papa.”

And he accepted it, talking your face into his hands and sticking his thumbs on either side of your smile. “You’re gonna make Papa come too, won’t you?”

“Yesh, Pah-Pah” you gasped around the gaping hole he made of you, galloping on his shoe as he guided you to the tent he pitched in his trousers.

Enveloping the outline of his erection with your mouth, you licked the thick lacing that tied him down and away from your mouth.

“And you’re gonna clean after him,” he groaned, pushing the pants out of your way, the silver buckle weighing them down. “You’re gonna use your filthy little mouth.”

With your nose buried in his bush and your eyes rolled in the back of your skull, you suckled his sack as you slid up and down his shoe. Your tongue lay flat under his shaft, but still couldn’t cover his circumference. Glazing the girth of him wasn’t enough to take the length of him into your mouth. His cock couldn’t glide to the back of your throat. Like his scent, he was overwhelming.

He rained praises down on you, the smallest droplets of spit landing on your face as you tried your best to stuff it full of him. “Good girl,” he grunted, hips holding back. “So good for me.” And, though you couldn't see his face through the tears in your eyes, you felt how good you made him feel. It was good enough to only have half his erection enveloped by you

“Come for me,” he hurried you, hands on your face as he fucked it slowly. “Come for me and I’ll give you mine. I know you want it, you dirty girl.”

His scent, his taste, his size. You could only take so much of him before you overflowed. So you came in your panties, soiling them and shining his shoe through your tarnished trousers. And he followed suit like he promised he would, painting your face in white as he pulled himself outside and whipping the wet head with the tongue waying in wait.

“Good girl,” he slowed his breathing, his smile small as he rested his chin on his bare, sweat and saliva slickened chest . “Such a good girl for me. Such a good girl for your Papa.”

Desperate to drown in it, you searched for the last drop of hi. that he sputtered on your face. Stuffing himself back into his pants, Papa took his time lacing them up again, his hands helping your tongue scrape his semen off your cheeks in-between each knot.

If you weren't a soggy, sated, scented mess already, the thrill of him kneeling behind you might’ve killed you. The chill was welcomed against your heated skin, as were his fingers unfastening his silk tie.

“Signorina,” he held out his hand for your freed ones to take as you stood up on your shaking legs. “Would you be so kind as to give me your panties?” watching you blink in disbelief, looking at him like you were still in your dreams, he grinned and added. “If you’re going to steal my shirt, then it’s only fair I get something in return.”

[merakiui]

Mera! I'm not sure if youve done this before but who are the winners and losers(and their tap out times) for no nut November??

Winners

✧ Riddle - the rule is to last the entire month without cumming; you know he's going to take it way too seriously.

✧ Jack - something something Ace and Deuce (losers) tease him about being easy, and he has his pride as a wolf and he always brings his all to competitions so,,,, he will ultimately win.

✧ Ruggie - if you bet money or food on him losing, he's going to win just to make sure he gets that from you. He is very serious and dedicated.

✧ Jamil - unfortunately, he only wins because he's too busy. </3 rip Jamil. You'll have all of December to make up for what you lost.

✧ Rook - no one knows how or why he does it, but because Rook was in the mood to see how he would fare in NNN he ends up winning somehow. He is so bewildering. Epel wants to know his secret.

✧ Azul - he would've gone in the loser category, but something tells me Azul is another type who is too busy to bother with NNN. And so he'll win solely because his mind is on other things (academics, Mostro Lounge, contracts, money, etc).

✧ Silver - he wasn't even trying to win. He just can't stay awake long enough to deal with his arousal. :(

✧ Sebek - miraculously, Sebek survives the entire month, but that's only because he treated the entire thing like it was a form of training. Also, he couldn't let Silver win all of the glory!! >:(

Losers

✧ Deuce - he lost the first day because he forgot what month it was and by the time he remembered it was NNN he had literally just came in his hand. T_T better luck next year.

✧ Ace - genuinely tries to do better than Deuce so he isn't teased for having a weak dick, but he folds like a week or so in.

✧ Cater - he is not winning NNN. </3 I think he can last at least half of the month if he isn't spending his time scrolling through risqué content.

✧ Trey - he's too stressed playing big brother to the underclassmen and making sure Riddle isn't overdoing it with the beheadings to pay attention to NNN. Stress relief is one of the few things he looks forward to when he has free time and isn't using it to do other hobbies. But also,,, he doesn't care as much for NNN as others might.

✧ Leona - another one who doesn't really care about NNN. He's a few days in when he loses, but he's not even participating.

✧ Floyd - lost right at midnight LOL. Not that he had any plans to genuinely try. Bragging rights isn't a good enough reward. Why is he going to suffer through a hard-on just for something as measly as bragging rights? :/

✧ Jade - you'd think he'd win because he's Jade, but it's precisely because he's Jade that he loses. He'll push himself to see just how far he can go and how many days he can last. While everyone else plays normal NNN, he is playing X-games mode. This eel is going out of his way to purposely get aroused just so he can edge himself throughout the month. Ultimately, once he's had his fill of fun and sated his curiosity, he'll handle his business. <3

✧ Kalim - he forgot NNN was a thing for a moment. He's the type to be like "Oops, I forgot about that! Can we pretend those four didn't count? Let me start over!" T_T he probably lost three days in.

✧ Vil - he is not going to deny his body what it needs all for a silly challenge. Firstly, masturbation can be healthy for the mind and body. Secondly, there's really nothing substantial to gain from a challenge like that. Vil sees no point in it.

✧ Epel - this means everything to Epel. It's to test his restraint as a man! To prove to himself that he isn't going to fold so easily! To show that he has what it takes to be strong! (He loses at the end of the first week. He really was trying his best...)

✧ Idia - no chance he is winning. He'll give it his best effort if he's feeling it, but it's impossible to resist the temptation when he's watching hentai. He either taps out in the very beginning or somewhere in the middle of the month.

✧ Malleus - he doesn't even know what NNN is, but based on these rules he lost towards the end of the month. In his defense, the horny nature of a dragon far surpasses that of the pride gained from winning NNN.

✧ Lilia - he goes on and on about how he may be old, but he's far from impotent. Thus, he will prove just how impressive his restraint is. After all, back in his day, it was impossible to find the privacy to get a good wank in when sleeping outside in inclement weather conditions. But perhaps that will serve him well now as he proceeds to win this NNN without trouble! ...he loses in just five days.

✧ Rollo - he is above these foolish, filthy challenges. Or so he claimed, but suddenly your undergarment is wrapped around his dick on the last day of November. He is strong, but lust is stronger.

[libertyybellls]

BABYDOLL !

pairing; finnick odair x f!reader

summary; finnicks a tease, so mean. but there's nothing more he wants to hear in his life than your gratifications.

contains; SMUT!! pure filth, fingering, p in v, lots of tension leading up, teasing, sub!reader, a few tears shed, pet names, lmk if i missed anything!

☾⋆｡𖦹 °✩

you knew that look, it would never fail to take the breathe from your lungs.

the look that finnick gives you when you’re rambling on and on about your day and all he can look at is your plump lips, the bow that’s in your hair, the small silver pendant that lies facetiously above your chest- so provocative, so tantalizing.

you turn your focus back to sliding the last of the clean plates into their spots in the cabinet- yet you stay leaned into the counter, still speaking.

“just been awful cold out on the water, s’been bad out.”

finnicks shows this look once more as a warning, almost. his eyes are low, dark- if looks could kill you’d been dead a while ago- though you almost are now.

he looks at you like he wants to devour you, like all he needs to survive is to worship you. “so bad.” he voice is even- much unlike your heart that has seemed to stop beating.

“hm?” his double meanings causing you to feel lightheaded.

he gets up from his spot, caging you into the counter with his arms, looking down on you now. “the weather. what’s my baby thinking about?” he zeros his eyes in on yours.

“nothin’ fin.” he hasn’t even touched you and you’re acting dumb already, your cheeks are pink, knees weak.

he turns his head- his height still opposes yours in this position- something about it makes you ache inside. “don’t lie, i thought you were my good girl?”

by this point you know he doesn’t care for your answer, he just wants to see how long you can go pretending you’re not so desperately needing him inside of you- two can play that game.

“i am your good girl, finnick.” you say, looking up to him with big eyes.

he rolls his tounge over his lips, jaw slack as he huffs to himself , moving into those same plump lips he’s been looking at for the past hour.

his lips move against yours slowly until his tongue cards though your own lips and into your mouth. even in his own desperations he is not messy, or rough, but simply passionate.

he leaves a new trail of his lips down your neck, agonizingly slow. he knows each second of this matters to you, and somehow each time he makes it feel new all over again.

his hands run down your sides, stopping on the back of your thighs to hoist you onto the countertop. he allows you to relish in this new position, you eye level with him. until again his hands find the backs of your thighs, carrying you into his room- laying your bottom down at the end of the bed.

his mouth finds your neck again, it’s hot, not rushed but needy. he wanted to ruin you, to watch you fall apart as his mouth got to work on you but when you whined out an oh-so pitiful, “i need you fin.” he knew what it was you wanted so badly.

but who is he to let you get what you want just like that? he needed some more convincing. “thought you were my good girl?” finnick tuts, he’s mean, he’s cruel.

“i am! i am!” you plead, he’s got you so worked up- rutting against him and he has your arms pinned down.

“act like it, babydoll.” and it takes all of your restraint to act like it, you take what he gives you when he feels like it.

only when his index finger hooks under the strap of your top do you get your own satisfaction, his hands run along your chest, kissing, sucking. until they find the waistband of your skirt, he studies your skirt- wonders if he should leave it on, tease you for it, but ultimately takes it off aswell.

never will he fail to be enamored with your body, he has to refrain from pulling his own face in between your legs.

your free hand reaches the collar of his loose shirt, his mouth is back in yours as he lets your fingers fumble with the buttons of his shirt before it’s completely undone, tossed elsewhere in the bedroom.

his hand kneads the fat of your hips, earning a soft noise of approval simply by his touch.

he never wants to hear anything else in his life, he thinks. finnick chases these sounds of pleasure from you, his fingers immediately finding your warmth, sinking his own two fingers into it.

you gasp, unprepared for such an intrusion- but he just couldn’t help himself.

his fingers continue working at a steady pace- until they curl, the world spins on its axis. “right there finnick!” your mouth is hanging open, and as much as he’d like to listen in to you whisper his name breathlessly- like a prayer- he can’t help but bring his pink lips to yours again.

you writhed in this pleasure, this satisfaction only he could bring you, he knew this, he loved this. until it all stopped, finnick withdrew his fingers, much to your dismay. he licks them clean.

you whimper, tears follow with the loss of friction and he can’t help but strain against his pants at the sight.

this beautiful woman below him? so desperate for his cock? it almost seems like it can’t be real.

“just be patient, angel.” he undoes his own pants, it doesn’t take long- even he can’t hide the fact of how badly he needs you.

you both are rid of every bit of clothing you’d once adorned, he nudges at your folds. “is this okay?” his eyes filled only with honesty, pure honesty.

“yes! please.”

finnick smiles, a smile short lived once he buries himself deep into you- his ears also pleasured as you cry out, clenching around him.

finnicks hand plays with the ends of your hair as he huffs out air. “gotta ease up baby, won’t last if your s’tight.” he purrs.

you nod, you can’t even speak and somehow that drives him more insane.

he rocks into you, leaving you fully before entering you without missing a beat. each thrust your back arches up more into him, chest more visible.

his fingers hyperfixtiate on your silver pendant, the pads of his hands caressing the heart locked as he stills inside of you.

“so pretty.”

“please.” you beg him, but he only moves his hands to your face, running his thumb over your lip, trying to etch your fucked-out features into the back of his mind.

you clench around him now, making him snap in and out of you faster. “this what you want? me to use you?” he cooes, words so sharp but the voice of an angel.

you’re close and you know he is too by the way his hips stutter each time he re-enters you.

vulgar words flow out of each of your mouths like a string as you both reach your high, your face hidden in his shoulder, his lips on your forehead.

-

i’ve never ever written smut before so lemme cook ill get better i promise, as always REQS OPEN USE EM!!!!

[sheepslaps]

are any of your human sonic characters in a relationship or have any crushes (can be now or in the past)? Have you thought about any of their sexual/romantic orientations?

oh i have had thoughts about some past relationships, and a few current ones; here we go-

in the past:

sonic/amy - dated in high school, broke up in senior year. amy fell first, sonic fell harder but it didn't work out - he still has some feelings for her though

shadow/rouge - it never got that far with them, it was ultimately FWB. rouge still thinks shadow is attractive and teases him just to fuck with him and knuckles

sonic/blaze - slight rebound from sonic's end after amy, they never went that far but blaze broke it off since sonic having no prospects was a turn off for her

rouge/vector - it was ONE night okay, both of them deny it

plus amy being flirty, has done it to; shadow, silver, blaze, jet

currently:

metal/amy - it's mainly a platonic flirty relationship bc amy is like that, metal likes the attention from her and her only

silver/blaze - he makes her laugh, she motivates him to keep improving. nobody believes silver and blaze are dating bc of how awkward he is, and blaze stays private about it (she's not a gossip). plus, silver actually has goals for himself and that's attractive to her

sonic/shadow - sonic flirts with shadow a lot bc it pisses him off. shadow is irritated by it but doesn't stop it. so much tension between these two (rouge: if you two don't just fuck each other already)

rouge/knuckles - rouge stays over at knuckles place so often that she might as well live there. every time these two are seen together, they're either fighting or making out. both just head over heels for each other. rouge will flirt with other guys to piss knuckles off, but there is NOTHING she wouldn't do for that man.

vector/vanilla - it started as vector coming over for food. then the flirting started. then the fixing up around her house started. a dependable young man with a heart of gold that never hesitates to help her? oh, vanilla is crazy in love like she's in college again. and vector gets a milf who shows him affection all for doing his job, it's great

assume all characters are pansexual unless otherwise stated

espio is the otherwise, he's aroace, thank you

edit; metal and amy are queer platonic (me only now remembering the name for it)

also it's kinda funny that amy and blaze both are into sonic but both metal and silver have that little extra that sonic doesn't

[gildedsilk]

Be Mine ❀

• Enhypen OT7 x Reader | Wc: 600+ | Fluff | PG-13 ༻

༺ Masterlist

༺ Heeseung

Heeseung wants to be confident about it, but when the time comes, he gets a little shy. He spends days thinking about the perfect way to ask you, even considering writing a song, but ultimately, he keeps it classic. On Valentine’s Day, he casually hands you a small box with a silver bracelet inside. “It reminded me of you,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. Before you can react, he smirks and adds, “Oh, and by the way… be my Valentine?” He plays it cool, but his ears are bright red.

༺ Jay

Jay believes in doing things properly. He shows up at your place with a bouquet of roses and a box of handmade chocolates (yes, he made them himself). “I wasn’t sure what kind of chocolate you like, so I tried a few different ones,” he says, watching for your reaction. Once he’s sure you like them, he clears his throat and formally asks, “So… will you be my Valentine?” The way he says it, like he’s been waiting forever, makes your heart skip a beat.

༺ Jake

Jake is excited but also a little nervous. He spends the whole day hyping himself up and finally decides to make it fun. He gets a heart-shaped balloon, ties it to a small stuffed puppy (because, of course, it reminds him of Layla), and writes a note: "You make my heart race. Be my Valentine?" He finds you and hands it over with the biggest, brightest smile. “I figured I’d go all out,” he laughs. “Did it work?”

༺ Sunghoon

Sunghoon acts nonchalant, but in reality, he spent forever figuring out what to do. In the end, he settles on a subtle but effective approach. He casually hands you a cup of coffee with "Be my Valentine?" written on the sleeve. When you look up at him in surprise, he shrugs. “It’s not a big deal or anything,” he says, but he refuses to meet your eyes. If you tease him about blushing, he’ll deny it, but his ears say otherwise.

༺ Sunoo

Sunoo goes all out because why not? He sets up a mini scavenger hunt for you with little notes leading to a final gift—a heart-shaped cake he made himself. When you reach the last clue, he’s standing there with a bright grin and a sign that says "Say yes?" in pink sparkly letters. “I had to make it cute,” he says, giggling. “So… do I get to be your Valentine?” He acts playful, but he’s holding his breath, waiting for your answer.

༺ Jungwon

Jungwon doesn’t want to make things too obvious, but he also wants it to be meaningful. He handwrites a note and carefully places it in a small envelope along with a keychain of something you love. When he finally gathers the courage to give it to you, he watches your expression nervously. “I, um… I wanted to do something simple,” he admits. “But… will you be my Valentine?” His eyes are full of hope, and you can tell how much thought he put into it.

༺ Ni-Ki

Ni-Ki pretends it’s not a big deal but is secretly stressing over it. He ends up doing something bold—challenging you to a game. “If I win, you have to be my Valentine,” he declares confidently. But when he loses on purpose (very obviously), he groans and hands you a small, folded note anyway. "Even if I lost… would you still say yes?" He tries to play it cool, but when you smile at him, he can't hide the excitement on his face.

[lassieposting]

Concept:

Archangel leaves a mark on pop culture on Omega. There's a multi-season vidset, or something, because the guy helped a lot of people and saved a lot of lives, and ended a lot of intimidation and exploitation, and Omega isn't exactly rife with heroes. It's a good story.

So there's a lasting media impression. Garrus laughs it off when it comes out - when the crew tease him about the CW-casting Ruggedly Handsome turian actor playing his alter ego, or the shoehorned-in kiss-kiss-bang-bang romance arc between "Archangel" and the asari crime queen of Omega, who's very clearly an Aria T'Loak analogue edited just enough that the real thing won't go hunting down the film crew. He tells Shepard the real stories that inspired certain episodes, with an abundance of dry humour and an unexpected level of self-deprecation. But she can tell it bothers him, because - the thing is, the vid portrays him as a lone wolf vigilante. And he wasn't.

Sometimes, the character will say a cliche line about doing better alone or his lifestyle being too dangerous to get close to others, and Shepard will glance over at Garrus and find him just. Staring into the middle distance, like he's not really there with her anymore, and she thinks, he isn't. Not really. He's back in that hideout, coming home to a massacre. He's draping sheets over the lifeless bodies of the friends who died horribly to protect him. He's remembering their faces, and realising that no one else ever will, even as they celebrate him - the one he ultimately holds responsible.

So she reaches out to her contacts in the media world, and manages to track down the people making the vid. It's not exactly hard, but it's time consuming - she gets in touch with the actor playing the lead on the extranet, he points her to the director, the director sends her to the writers, who send her to the studio, and then to the financiers. But she convinces them to change it. When the next season releases, Archangel starts meeting/recruiting his team.

And he never mentions it - at least, not to her - but she thinks that seems to ease something in Garrus. His team immortalised on the silver screen, given credit for their part in his story, portrayed as heroes for what they were trying to do.

(He doesn't watch the last few episodes - Sidonis' betrayal, the massacre, his desperate last stand against the united gang forces, the revelation that Archangel's body was never found. Neither does she. But she checks what viewers are saying on social media later on, and honestly, she hopes he does, too.)

((She thinks he could do with all the reminders that those deaths were not his fault))

[dioslesbianwife]

AHHH i know it’s still november and not technically christmas time yet, but I LOVE THE HOLIDAYS (and don’t celebrate thanksgiving lmao) so i wrote some headcannons for jojo villains and gift giving/receiving!!

jojovillains x gender neutral! reader holiday headcannons!

•••••••••••••••••••

Dio

You gifted Dio a luxurious black velvet cape with gold trim and embroidery of his name across the inside in elegant cursive. You added a crown with small crimson gemstones to complete the look lol.

Dio smirked as he draped the cape over his shoulders. “A fitting gift for someone such as myself,” he said, his voice dripping with superiority.

“Now you can cosplay as yourself!” you tease, earning a raised eyebrow and an amused chuckle.

Doppio

For Doppio, you’ve created a collection of adorable trinkets: a pastel pink phone case shaped like a rotary phone, a personalized pocket mirror with his name on it, and a diary filled with encouraging notes like “You’re amazing, Doppio! :)” on random pages.

Doppio’s face lit up as he opened the gifts. “This is so thoughtful! Thank you!”

“I knew you’d like it,” you say, practically glowing.

Diavolo

For Diavolo, you created a sleek, blood-red tie with subtle King Crimson designs woven into the fabric.

“This is acceptable,” he said, inspecting the tie with his usual stoicism.

“Acceptable?” you scoff. “That’s all I get for being nice to you?”

Diavolo didn’t reply, but the fact that he wore the tie later that day was proof he appreciated it.

Kira

Kira received a pair of elegant gloves made of the finest leather, tailored to fit perfectly. They were monogrammed with his initials and subtly accented with golden thread.

“These are… exquisite,” Kira said, slipping them on.

“See? I do know how to be classy,” you quipped, grinning.

He nodded, begrudgingly impressed.

Funny Valentine

For Valentine, you crafted a custom pocket watch with the American flag engraved on the cover and the inscription “E Pluribus Unum” (translation- out of many, one)

Valentine chuckled softly as he examined it. “You have an odd way of combining sentimentality and irreverence, but thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Gramps!”

Kars

Kars received an elaborate golden diadem, inlaid with glowing gemstones that shimmered in the light. “It’s for the ultimate life form,” you tell him.

Kars looked it over, intrigued by the craftsmanship. “This is… suitable,” he said, though his tone suggested he was impressed.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” you reply with a grin.

Pucci

For Pucci, you’ve created a pristine white leather-bound Bible with golden edges and a personal inscription inside that read: “Merry Christmas.”

Pucci smiled warmly, touched by the gift. “This is truly beautiful. Thank you.”

You beam, thrilled by his reaction.

Reactions and Gifts from Others

••••••••

Dio

Dio, surprisingly, gave everyone a small token: ornate gold rings engraved with his name. “To remind you all who is superior,” he said with a smirk.

how humble of him.

Doppio

Doppio nervously hands you a poorly wrapped gift: a handmade friendship bracelet in your favorite colors.

“It’s not much, but I wanted to give you something,” he said, blushing.

You smile and immediately put it on. “It’s perfect, Doppio!”

Diavolo

Diavolo didn’t bother with gifts.

for this, he deserves a lump of coal >:(

Kira

Kira gave no gifts and avoided eye contact when you brought it up. “Christmas is not an occasion I celebrate,” he muttered.

Funny Valentine

Valentine gave everyone personalized handkerchiefs embroidered with their initials.if you question him, Valentine shrugs. “Practicality never goes out of style.”

Kars

Kars didn’t exchange gifts, stating, “Material possessions are beneath me.”

“Sure, but you liked the diadem,” you tease, earning a glare.

Pucci

Pucci gave you a small, silver cross necklace. “Something to remind you that your joy brings light to this house,” he said.

You’re so touched you hugged him, making Pucci smile softly.

••••••••••••••

By the end of the day, the house was a mess of torn wrapping paper and ribbon, but for once, everyone seemed at peace. Even the most stoic among them couldn’t deny that your excitement had made the holiday unforgettable.