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[sysig]

Damned Masterpost

Original run

ZEX wasn’t there for that, Dex!

Getting started

Kissing Strangers 💋

Captain Dating Sim

If I become lost...

It started with a whisper

Perfect comedy routine

Flowers for you!

ZEX loves wild horse!

Dexter’s first visit

Pivotal bright spot

Sunshine Captain ☀️

But ZEX loves humans!

Uniform ♥

Hard learning curve

Big Guy Teisel

VUXisms

ZEX’s hair <3

Haunted by Kayako

Zelnick has two hands

Zelnick’s gone :(

ZEX’s MU (blood)

Them (blood)

Leaving weird impressions

Last man standing

Wake up somewhere better (blood)

Despite everything, he’s still ZEX

New Daay

DAX profile

DAX Expressions

VUX duo Expressions

Lover’s tiff Expressions

Action heroes Expressions (blood)

Roughed up VUX Expressions (blood)

Too busy flirting

The Little VUXmaid ---

What if DAX was there

DAX’s Special Counseling

Homesick

After ZEX’s MU

Hope we die (blood)

Max’s visit

Karaoke Night

The girlies are fightinnggg

Different sensibilities

ZEX’s hair, again

Protect him, please

VUXémon

The three of them

Wander I mean Dr. Doran

More Dr. Doran

“Wake up” configurations

More VUXémon ft. Larry and Kabu

Dismissed ---

First re-meeting ♥

Chill, Sub-Commander

Each other’s VUX

Pyramid Head fight (blood)

Dr. Vargas

VUX silliness

Therapy went great

Nightly squabbles

You must snuggle

Obeying commands

Locked In

Damned, but make it Osmosis Jones

Wants to fight so bad

Some familiar faces

Drix Uniform

Main three’s profiles

Other

Stanley profile speculations

Max wants out

Crystal Gem VUX

All those missing eyes

2024 Sketchdump

[auraxins]

whyyyyy literally every time i finally post some writing does it NOT SHOW UP ANYWHERE AT FIRST </3

[blookmallow]

genuinely i hate summer so much. i have so many things i could be doing. things i need to do. things i want to do. things i would probably enjoy doing if i just did them. and yet. i have been doing nothing. all day. because it's hot and therefore i cannot function, like, at all

[lvllns]

the barn owner will be buying charlotte and i’m so happy it’s worked out so well but at the same time. i’ve never not had a horse. it’s going to take some time to figure out who i am, i think.

[screampied]

you always had a bad habit of falling asleep—not just anywhere though, but on sukuna ryōmen’s notorious throne. .

he hated it.

he hated how how you hogged up his space.

he hated how your near-quiet snores would echo through his poorly aged walls.

most importantly though, he hated how frustratingly cute you looked . . all scrunched up, curled up in a ball, and occasionally shivering a bit from the cool air that settled against your bare skin.

“tch..” he’d sigh, feeling his muscles ache with each step he took toward you. as usual, sukuna had just returned from some battle and here you were, always waiting for him to return. he’s probably told you over about a hundred times that you could have slept in his private chambers but no—you always preferred his throne. always.

you never told him, but part of the reason why you loved sleeping on it was because of his strong scent that always lingered on the piece of ancient furniture. a musky scent that you’d grow to always miss whenever he wasn’t with you.

“oi. you awake?” sukuna grumbles, and you shift a bit once he lifts you. you could hear him murmuring vexed curses under his breath as he positioned you to lean up a certain way. crimson-velvet eyes bore into your sleeping state and sukuna held back a snickering smile. “pft. ‘course not,” and you felt him starting to trod away with you snugly cradled in his broad arms. as sukuna made his way upstairs, he softly strokes a thumb underneath your nape. “brat. sleep in my bed next time. you’re gonna get back aches at this rate.”

despite his cold-hearted, rough exterior he was always gentle with you. only you. just you.

sukuna carried you in his arms like every other night—sometimes, he wonders if you do this on purpose. purposely falling asleep on his throne just so he could pick you up bridal style, bringing you back to his bed.

each step he took shook your entire body, and you let off a groan in your sleep from the abrupt bumps. “i know. i know little one. just a few more steps.” he rolls his eyes, secretly finding your slumbering state adorable. never in a million years would he ever admit it though.

as the wooden stairs creak—he continues to walk, occasionally looking down at you. right as he’s at the final groaning step, sukuna tenses a bit, feeling your head brush up against his soft exposed pecs.

his fleecy kimono was half open and you’re just buried in his arms, snuggling all against him like a needy cat.

the audacity. .

his pink slit brow furrows as he scoffs at the sight, bringing you inside his quiet spacious bedroom. gently, he starts to lie you down on the mattress but that’s when your arms wrap around him.

“eh? what are you-” sukuna grunts, and that’s when he collapses right against your chest. sukuna deadpans once your warm legs and arms sneakily snake around him—clinging onto him tight like a koala. “keh.. such a handsy pest, even when you’re dead asleep.” he clicks his tongue, letting you drag him further into the bed with you.

sukuna feels a strange feeling pooling near the very bottom depths of his heart.

it’s eerily strange . .

it doesn’t feel like the usual resentment, hatred, or even arrogance he feels toward others ‘below him’.

he finds himself melting into your tender touch, his chin gradually burying itself in your shoulder.

the soreness in his muscles started to subside as he was just on top of you—inhaling your sweet scent, stubbornly grumbling swears in your neck.

sukuna was feeling . . . soft.

he was so closely pressed up against you that he could feel the steady racing beats of your heart. each slow-paced ba-dump! that pumped out of your chest quickened by the second.

was . . he the one making your heart race?

sukuna heard how your shallow breaths significantly slowed, and your arms started to tighten more around his thick neck. he didn’t think he’d ever feel like this. whatever… emotion this was.

sure, he’s had to carry you up to his chambers so you’d sleep more comfortably lots of times but this- this moment felt more a bit different.

“i . . can’t sleep like this, y’know,” the demon breaks the silence, huffing at the awkward predicament he was in. sukuna was currently lying on top of you, hovering over you just so he wouldn’t crush your cute human body. with each longing second passing, he could already feel his limbs starting to ache from just idly hanging over you. “at least let me rest near the side.”

no reply.

sukuna scoffs again, realizing he’s practically talking to himself. but instead of responding with actual words—you cling onto him even tighter, your non-verbal way of saying ��stay.’

“you’re even more annoying when you’re asleep,” he sighs, pinching his forehead. “fine.. i’ll- i’ll stay like this. here, with you. ‘s not like i plan to go anywher—” sukuna gets cut off once he sees you shifting a bit in your sleep again.

the silence was undeniably loud. with his lips mutely parting, he watches as you get more comfortable, letting off a few heavy exhales.

sukuna starts to ponder to himself. you looked so peaceful . . sound asleep.

he wondered what you were dreaming about. he was so busy staring at you while you slept that he didn’t even notice that he was starting to get drowsy himself. sukuna’s eyelids started to droop and he grunted, letting off an obnoxious yawn.

with watery eyes, sukuna stretches his arms before sinking his face back into your left shoulder. your warmth made him quietly purr into your neck. it was faint, but you heard it.

sukuna even mimicked some of your movements from earlier, softly rubbing his forehead against you as you held him close. “huh. this isn’t . . that bad,” he gruffly utters, his gravely voice pitching.

your chin rests on the top of his head, and sukuna gives you one last glance.

“i. . i love you.” he quietly whispers, thinking that just because you were asleep you couldn’t hear.

but- you did, you heard it all. every word.

little did sukuna know, you were actually wide awake the entire time. you woke up when he was carrying you up the stairs, but you just pretended to be asleep from that point up until now.

a small genuine smile curves on both sides of your crooked lips as your eyelids remain closed. in a sweet groggy voice, you instantly replied, “love you too ‘kuna. it’s about time you finally said it.”

sukuna’s eyes widen as his head quickly rises from against your chest. you’re looking down at him with very much open eyes now and the world’s smugest grin.

his cheeks—they’re burning, flushing with a rosy flamed color and you don’t think you’ve ever seen sukuna ryomen more embarrassed.

“you . . you didn’t . . hear that.”

“i definitely heard it.”

“ugh. i hate you.”

“i love youuu.”

“i… love you too, stupid cheeky human. now go back to sleep. hmph.”

[i-smoke-chapstick]

Your thighs tremble around his head, trembling not just from the relentless pressure of his tongue but from the sick, slow way he moans against you. Not just eating you, no, devouring, like he’s starving. Like he’d die a second time if he wasn’t buried between your legs.

"Shit, baby, look at you!" Remmick coos, pleased with himself. You groan, pushing him back down with a buck of your hips.

"Don't talk with your mouth full." You hiss. He offers a scoff with a smirk, cutting you off with a light slap to your thigh. He dives back in, slick and spit coating his chin and nose, his breath hot as he looks up through heavy-lidded, feral eyes. You see them glow in the dim lighting, and you can't help but tilt your head back with a groan.

"Pretty little baby," he murmurs, voice thick, "Know you like it messy." He clicks his tongue, fangs peaking out while he smiles against your thigh. "Mmm. You're all twitchy." That grin of his turns animal when you tug on his hair in retaliation.

He spits, slow and deliberate, on your clit, watching your hips twitch, then leans in and laps it up again, groaning against you. The heat of his breath, the rise and fall of his chest as he needily humps the mattress beneath you two.

The more you struggle from the overstimulation, the more those sharp claws of his dig into your thighs. He's holding you down, letting you listen to the wet, sloppy obscene sounds of him making out with your cunt.

When a particularly harsh buck of your hips and whimper sounds, you break the eye contact.

"Remmi-"

"Nuh-uh. Stay the fuck down," he growls into your core. "You’re not goin’ anywhere." His words are quick and clipped, like he's briefly scolding you.

And you do- violently. Sobbing, convulsing, fists pounding the sheets. But he doesn’t stop. Just licks harder. Rougher. Ruts his face like he’s trying to tongue-fuck your soul out of your body.

When you think he's finally done, he crawls up over you, jaw wet, lips swollen. "Keep your mouth open for a second, baby." He directs. His breath hits your lips, sticky with his drool and your juice. His hand slides up your throat, not choking, but holding you still. It could almost be considered polite, if not for the mess he's making.

You barely have time to gasp before he spits into your mouth, watching you with narrowed, adoring eyes. The slow drawl of liquid passing between his lips, unable to be held in anymore. It dribbles into your open mouth, down your chin, until you can taste yourself and him.

"There you go, swallow." He nods, eager. Claws coming up to poke at your cheek and smush the drool all around your face and lips. His cock is straining hard against your thigh.

When you think he's done putting on his little show, he lets out a soft relieved sigh, pleased, before nuzzling his face into yours. His own drool sticking your faces together, little flicks of his tongue pressing all over your face just to get a few more tastes and kisses in.

He lifts two fingers up to his mouth. Licks. Moans. Savors the delicacy, before going down to swipe them between your legs. "One more round, okay? We ain't done yet." He whispers, before sinking his face back down your body to where your sweet heat awaits him.

[luveline]

Hi Jade! (I’ve sent this before so ignore if you aren’t into it) just thinking about a bau!reader (maybe shy!reader??) who’s dating post-prison Spencer but didn’t know him before prison and she sees some footage of season one Spencer (maybe they need to refer to a recording of a previous case?) and she’s just dying at how cute he is 🥹

You’ve barely woken up with your face in a solid shoulder when Spencer’s turning around.

“Don’t,” he says when you whine, slipping a familiar hand over your hip. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

“Too early to make fun of me.” 

“Do you think I’m making fun of you?” 

His talking warms your nose where his head is angled down. Your skin smarts with goosebumps as he trails his hand lightly up your back, down again, the slowest, tumbling touch. You shiver, and Spencer, ever so slightly devious in love, says, “Oh, you’re cold?” with great pity as he pulls you closer. 

You rub your face against his shoulder. “Sorry.” 

“Why?”

“I smell.” 

He hums. “Sort of. Not like sweat, though. You smell like sleep.” His lips touch your cheek.

He lets you ‘warm up’ in his arms for a few minutes, then however long you doze for, lost and too comfortable to bother even trying to wake up properly. Your phone pings a couple of times after it comes out of sleep mode, a sure sign you’ve overslept, but Spencer doesn’t make you move until your stomach growls. 

“Come on,” he says, kissing your nose and slipping you back onto your side of the bed. “I’ll make breakfast.” 

“It’s nearly twelve.” 

“You just woke up, and it’s the first thing you’re gonna eat. You are breaking your fast. Breakfast.” He looks pretty even through achy, tired eyes, all the sleep crusted in your lashes no match for Spencer Reid. How you went so long without knowing him is a mystery. 

You get up only because he told you to and because he looked quite lovely when he did it, not because you want to. The bed is warm, that pit of his arms calling your name, but Spencer’s already rolling out of bed with an eager hand scratching through his hair. Sweat has made them tight and a little darker in the back. You’ll both have to shower at some point, preferably after he’s made you breakfast in bed. 

He can see your expectations on your face, and he laughs as he pulls a t-shirt on over his head. “Get up! I’m not bringing it up here, do you know how badly your sleep cycle is affected when you start doing the wrong things in bed?” 

“What counts as the wrong thing?” 

Spencer laughs again, softer now, and for a moment he traces your face with his eyes without speaking. “Fine,” he says, waving a hand at you as he makes for the bedroom door, “stay there. But only ‘cos you look so pretty!” 

“Thank you!” you call back. 

This time with Spencer isn’t enough. You need ten more years of this, thirty, fifty, you need to wake up in his arms and have him touch you and tickle your cheek with his breath. He’s too far to have him come back, so you resign to hugging him when he returns. 

Your phone pings again, drawing your attention finally. The first notification is a reminder to buy toothpaste today at the grocery store. The second is a text from a friend, the third an email. It’s one from last night that piques your interest, another friend, full capital letters: HELP. 

Her use of a laughing emoji defers any urgency. You click on the text thread and scroll up, puzzled by her previous messages, a link, and a caption: oh my god he was so dorky??? 

You open the video and feel your breath catch in surprise. 

Is that Spencer?

You're not stupid, you’ve seen photos of him and his friends together dotted around the apartment from over the years, and every time you come across that photo of him and Diana at a spelling bee with his huge black-framed glasses you have to laugh, but it’s different seeing him to hearing him. 

He’s so nervous. You can’t understand what it is he’s saying, something about mathematical components to profiling criminals. Jason Gideon stands in the background watching him closely. 

“There’s actually a good joke that–”

“Spencer,” Gideon reprimands. 

You watch in awe as Spencer stammers an apology, his cheeks a little pink. You’ve seen Spencer blush, but this feels different. He looks so young. His hair is straight as a pin. 

“Spencer, did you used to straighten your hair?” you call, hoping he can hear you over the sound of a frying pan popping in the kitchen. “Or do you have a perm now, or what?” 

“What!” 

“I’m confused on the logistics of your hair!” You feel something weird in your chest as on screen Spencer tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear. It’s a mixture of wanting to eat him and wanting to reach through the screen to stroke his cheek with your thumb. 

Spencer treks back into the bedroom with his pink and white pinstripe apron over his shirt and sweatpants. He smells like cinnamon sugar already. “What are you talking about?” 

“My friend found a video of you and Jason at one of those lectures you did.” 

Spencer presses his lips together. For a moment, he doesn’t speak. “I didn’t do any lectures.”

“Uh, yes you did, liar, and you looked so cute.” You turn your phone to him. “So sweet.” 

He marches to the bed. Before you can stop him, he’s taking the phone from your hand, giving you the world's silliest, tiniest shove when you try to get it back. 

“Cruel,” you quip. 

Spencer stares at the phone screen, then you, “Sorry,” he says, turning pink, “I don’t know why I did that, just– I just–” He frowns deeply. “Can you stop smiling like that?” 

You climb onto your knees, a morning disaster, but when you wrap your arms around Spencer’s waist he looks at you like you’re perfect. His eyes soften, brows relaxing, his irises like dark dimes that slowly dilate as he looks you over. Your phone presses into your back, his arm wrapping around you. 

“You were adorable,” you say sincerely. 

“Not anymore?” 

You rub your cheek against his apron. “No, you still are. Let me watch the video again.” 

“Not a chance.” 

[tonycries]

Freak On The Cam! - C.K.

Synopsis. Choso always loved watching you - his pretty lil’ camgírl - from behind the screen. Who knew he’d love being on-screen with you even more?

Pairing. Choso Kamo x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, camgírl! reader, spítting, Choso has rings and piercings, first times + loss of vírginity (Choso’s), oral (fem receiving), exhíbitionism, DOWN BAD Choso, cúmplay, use of “ma’am”, Sukuna is a menace, víbrators, light jealousy (Choso’s), some HEINOUS things, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 6.5k

A/N. Meant to post this last week but hehe here we are. Also I’ve GOT to stop using Unc-kuna so much lmao.

“Wanna see a movie or do you wanna make one?”

Choso was screwed. Completely and utterly screwed. So badly, in fact, that he might as well just wipe off every trace of himself online and go into hiding - preferably forever.

All because he had been so stupidly careless as to leave his phone unattended for exactly 1 minute and 47 seconds around Sukuna. 

In the time it took Choso to raid the kitchen for his favorite brand of cereal, his uncle had managed to open his Twitter (because “that’s where all the juicy stuff is”), stalk your pretty page at the very top of his last searched, and send a god-awful pick-up line that would probably get him blocked. Or worse.

Damnit, he knew he shouldn’t have made his password Yuji’s birthday.

“Ya should be thankful I didn’t DM her myself, brat.” Sukuna chuckles, not even a shred of regret in his tone, way too amused with how Choso was frantically trying to tackle the phone out of his hands. “What’s the harm in asking? Such a pretty camgirl, n’ you look like you need some good pu-”

“She’s also my classmate.”

“Kinky. Even better.” 

No, not “even better”. God, this must be some kind of cosmic joke, and Choso just wished the Earth would swallow him up whole right now - and maybe his phone along with it too. 

It had taken him almost a whole semester to work up the courage to just sit next to you during your shared lecture. All gorgeous with your bright smiles, and your smart mouth. And Choso was very much content to admire you from afar - and from behind his phone screen, of course.

Never following, never liking. Never tipping you off as one of your hundreds of thousands of fans.

And now, not only had Sukuna revealed that he’d found your secret Twitter account - the one with those sinful little clips of yourself that had Choso opening the app way too much - he’d also propositioned you. Like some creep.  

“Ugh. This is why women hate you.” Still desperately grappling, he spits out more to himself than Sukuna at this point. “B-besides, she’s never even gonna respond any-”

Ping!

And the Itadori household had never been quieter. Never, on a random Saturday during spring break. Never, as the two men crowd the phone, jaws dropped and staring wordlessly at the singular message on screen. You. 

“Let’s make one ;)”

---

“So s’not a stream this time, jus’ a video. Is that okay?”  You hum from your desk, glancing at the man seated on your bed as he hastily nods along with whatever you said. Looking like he’d rather be anywhere but here. 

Weird. 

It had only been a few days of back and forth since you’d gotten that first text - the one that you’d honestly thought about blocking like the thousands of others. But there was just something about it that made you stop, something that had you clicking on the profile to delve a little deeper.

It hit you like a semi-truck back then - five of them, in fact - that this was someone in your class. Someone you knew. How the hell did he even find this account? 

You knew Choso as that sweet - albeit slightly gloomy - kid that sat next to you, always quick with his answers and even quicker to look away from your gaze, no matter how hard you tried to spark a conversation. You’d just guessed he was afraid of you or something.

So nothing could’ve prepared you for how ridiculously attractive he looked in that profile picture, all smug grins and dark locks falling effortlessly around his slightly smudged eyeliner. Shirtless, giving just a peak of- oh god, were those nipple piercings?  

Could you really be blamed? You just had to have him.

But, here - it was like he was just itching to run away at the first chance he got. 

“You’re not held at gunpoint, y’know.” you giggle at how he startles at the mere sound of your voice. The mattress dips as you stop fiddling with the camera to sit next to him, thighs flush against his muscled ones. “Are you sure you want-”

“Yes.” 

It seems that both of you were surprised by the abrupt response. Too quick. Choso clears his throat, cheeks flaring as he tries to dredge up some semblance of dignity, he drawls lightly. “I mean- Yes.”

You study him for a moment under the dim lighting, noting the way his hands clench and unclench in his lap, the way his chest rises and falls rapidly as he struggles to control his breathing. He was nervous. Nervous and horny - nothing quite like the suave impression his pick-up line gave off. 

But so irresistible just the same.

“Well…Cho.” you bat your lashes, voice dropping to a seductive whisper - not too heavy, for now at least. “Then why won’t you even look at me?”

Alas, Choso was not a strong man. 

Maybe at your words, maybe at that playful little nickname you gave him, he’s finally raising those dark eyes to look at you. Twinkling with- fear? anticipation? A flicker of something so dangerous as his gaze sweeps greedily over that tight dress you put on just for this occasion. 

Choso tries to ignore how sinfully it hugs all your curves. Or the way it would look a million times better on the floor. 

This was absolute torture. 

And God he thinks he could pass out right then and there as you lean in closer. Too close. The temperature in the room suddenly increasing by about 10 degrees as you purr, tone careful and balanced. “Much better. And now…” 

His breathing becomes heavier, eyes flickering downwards. Once. Twice. 

And you know you’ve got him in the palm of your hand. 

“...all you gotta do is touch me.”

Yeah, if Choso thought he was going to pass out before then he definitely wasn’t ready for those dangerous little words. Ones that have him shaken right to the core - fighting that urge to just take you how he’s imagined all those lonely nights.

“You- huh?” he lets out a shaky laugh, the sound strained as he crosses his legs with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, desperately trying to will away the blood rushing straight to his throbbing cock right now. 

But how could he? Not when you only shift closer, barely even a hair’s breadth between you two - relishing in his strangled gasp as your tits press so enticingly against his arm. Such an adorable pout playing on your lips as you mutter, “Do you not want to?”

And he did. Oh, how he did - has been imagining it for the past five months, in fact. And Choso lets you know, a little twenty times, actually, as the words spill panickedly from his lips. 

“-idiot trying to set me up and I’ve been dreaming of fucking you for so long but I’m just-” Heat rushes to Choso’s cheeks, as he abruptly shuts the fuck up. But it’s too late - the damage has been done.

You give him a wry smile, lips mere inches from his ear. “Just what?”

His breath hitches, muscles rippling so deliciously as he shudders beneath your touch. “I’m a-” Choking out - as if it physically hurts to  admit - “-virgin.”

Oh. 

Now, you might’ve expected many things - but certainly not this. Though, looking at the cute flush on the tips of his ears, all the way down to those big, needy eyes, you don’t mind. Not one bit.

With one, quick glance at the rolling camera - your mouth is moving before your mind. “Do you want me to…do something about it?”

And then it’s like something snapped. 

You don’t know who leans in first, just that Choso’s kissing you. And you’re kissing him - how could you not? 

Because goddammit it was always those pretty lips that you were staring at whenever he was spouting off answers in class. You just never expected he’d be kissing you back with such an infectious desperation. 

No sooner are you thinking about how sweet his lips are before he’s pulling away with a soft sigh, pressing hot open-mouthed kisses down your jaw. Your neck. Back to your lips like he wanted everything and anything.

You gasp licks a long, languid stripe up your neck - maybe at how utterly obscene it felt, maybe at that sharp cold feeling that makes you flinch. Fuck - a tongue piercing? The noise makes Choso’s mouth drop into a quick oh! surging forward to claim your lips again. Addicted. 

Only to be stopped by your hands cupping his face, letting out a pained grunt at how he was so close. Just a hair’s breadth away from your lips.

“Cho~ Open your mouth, baby.” you whisper, hotly. 

And he looked so pretty - dark hair askew, lower lip swollen and quivering with need, brows furrowing because he wanted more of your taste. But he obeys, of course he does, Choso thinks he’ll do anything you asked. And lo and behold, sitting right there in the middle of his tongue was a pretty silver piercing.

You just can’t help but thumb open his mouth further, looking him right in the eyes as you spit in his mouth. Once. Twice. 

“Bet no one else has done this before, huh?” Grinning at how sinfully Choso’s eyes roll to the back of his head at your taste, “Kiss me proper now.”

God, you were so good at throwing away whatever was left of his poor sanity. And it’s all that’s said before his kiss-bitten lips are crashing into yours again. 

“No. No one’s hah- done that before. Only you.” he’s panting into your open mouth, swirling his tongue with yours. “F-fuck only you. Only you only you-”

You barely even realize the way you’re on his lap now, sitting so prettily there that Choso half-deliriously wonders whether he should take a picture. Mind spinning too much with his throbbing erection under your drenched panties, a damp little patch at his fat tip. So hot and heavy already.

“Cho, do you want me to-”

“Yes, ma’am.”

You certainly don’t have to be told twice - especially with that little nickname. Fiddling with his belt, you’re so hazy with want - the need to taste Choso, to see if the rest of him was as sweet as his lips - that you almost miss the look of confusion that flashes across his face.

You bat your lashes at him almost-innocently, “You alright?” And Choso thinks he could cum right there and right now at the sight. If he wasn’t currently battling for his life, that is. 

“Yeah, s’jus’- what I wanted hah- was to…” His hands sneak down, cupping your heated pussy through your drenched panties. “-taste her. ”

“Oh?”

“Are y’gonna teach me how?”

Oh. Fuck.

You know you’re fucked. Completely and utterly fucked.

Only moments later, Choso’s wrestling you back onto the mattress, face-to-face with your sloppy pussy. So mean with the way he was pinning your hips down with one hand, all but ripping your panties off with the other. 

You feel his piercing before his tongue. Both the hot and cold so maddening on your cunt as Choso licks long, lazy stripes up your puffy folds - dragging his hot tongue all the way from your base. Just grazing your swollen clit. 

“Teach me- fuck fuck-” words muffled and slurring together, vibrations going straight to your pussy. “Use me. Use me how you want.”

You’re threading your fingers through his dark locks before you even realize it, grinding your sloppy cunt all over his waiting mouth. “Quirk your tongue like- ngh-” Angling him close enough so he bullies his soft tongue into your tight pussy. Piercing massaging all the right places. “Fuck-”

“Like this?”

“Sh-shit,” you gasp, nodding deliriously. “S’too ngh- good.”

And by God, did you mean it. 

“Yeah? Y’like this?” he’s groaning, wrapping his lips around your swollen clit. “Can feel you clenching around me. Shit shit shit, you love this, huh? So slutty on camera for it?” 

Getting wetter and wetter by the second as his tongue roams for that one-

“Oh! F-fuck, Cho. Right hngh- there. Deeper-”

Ah, found it.

Choso grins as you tug on his soft strands, you can feel it on your throbbing pussy. Pushing your legs all the way till they’re at your tits to hit that little spot each and every time. Again and again. Eyes glassy, torn between devouring that slutty expression on your face and how fucking drenched you were. 

“Shit, baby,” his words are so strained now, like his sanity was dancing away at each flick of his tongue. “You’re drooling everywhere. See? Show the camera now.”

You don’t have to look. Because you can feel it.

Can feel how wet his mouth is, just glistening with slick and saliva. Trailing all the way down his chin - to his wrist - only second to how sloppy your dripping cunt was. It was like he was getting messy on purpose, like a little reminder to himself that shit this was you and he was eating out your pretty cunt to insanity-

“Oh my god, think m’hooked.” Tongue dragging all over your swollen folds, catching on his piercing. “Think your pretty lil’ pussy’s hah- driving me crazy. Ruined me, Fuck-”

And it’s so embarrassing how he’s talking you through it, grinning at every lil’ whine and whimper that leaves your mouth. You were acting all shy right now in a way that makes Choso’s cock twitch so painfully. He barely even notices, though, with the way he was so drunk off your pussy. 

So messy - unable to decide between rolling his tongue over your ravaged clit and dipping into your sloppy hole. Too much. In and out in and-

“Faster.”

He goes faster. 

“H-harder.”

He goes harder.

Anything and everything for you - to keep those pretty moans falling from your lips, walls getting tighter and tighter around his tongue. And Choso might just consider himself a man addicted.

“Can you ngh- cum f’me, baby?” You flinch as he spits out the words into your cunt. Harsh. Fucked-out. Sounding just as delirious and breathless as you. “Cum f’me please. Wan’ to taste y’on my tongue. Please. Fuck- need it so bad. So bad.”

You’re so caught up in Choso’s pussydrunk little babbles that you barely even realize when you’re cumming. Just that you’re letting out a strangled scream of his name, dragging your sloppy pussy all over his mouth. 

And he has never seemed more blissed out. Long gone is that nervous little expression usually on his face around you, Choso looked like he could be suffocated in-between your legs right now and love it. Hope for it, even.

He tells you that, of course. As soon as you’re blinking back your vision, blood still roaring in your ears. Delicate strings of slick snapping where he parts from your quivering cunt, lips swollen and glossed so prettily with your sweet sweet juices. 

“Baby, y’think the video of lesson one came out good?”

Oh. Shit, what have you done?

---

That certainly wasn’t the last time you saw Choso - or the last time you had him in front of a camera, either.

A few weeks later, you found yourself with an entire album for the man - a hidden treasure trove under the simple name of “Cho <3”. Most of the videos favorited, all sorted so tediously in a way that showed you spent an obscene amount of time looking at all the ways he ruined you. 

So filthy on camera that you always wondered whether it was the same person in the sheets and in class, texting Choso for later. Just to confirm. 

But embarrassingly, only some of these videos made their way onto your Twitter account - with Choso’s pretty face largely out of the frame. The two of you hadn’t ventured into streams yet either, opting to hide him away. Because, okay, maybe you were slightly jealous of other people seeing him - but it was really hard not to be when he looked like that.

In spite of all that, you’d still gained a casual hundred thousand more followers since his appearance - ones who always commented on your solo streams asking where your “hot emo bf” was.

Comments you’d pointedly ignore, because, hell, you wished he was here on-stream helping you get off, too. Yet despite the endless flirting and videos, Choso actually hadn’t made it further than actually holding a full conversation with you. And you wanted more. 

For all you know, you might just be one of his many trysts - and it was just for the videos, right? You get the content, he gets the experience? A win-win situation, so why have you never felt more like such a loser?

Such a loser the way you’ve already lost count of the “lessons” but still haven’t gotten to feel him - to fuck him the way you wanted just yet. 

“S’alright if I take this, right, ma’am?” He smirks during one such session, knuckle-deep in your dripping cunt. Dangling your drenched panties like a badge of honor, flimsy and soaked with your sweet sweet juices. “S’alright if I-” And he can’t even finish the sentence. Your jaw drops as Choso raises the thin fabric to his face, breathing in your essence like a man possessed. 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“You’re so filthy, Cho-” you manage to choke out once you find your voice. Squirming on his bed like such a slut for him. “Was the innocent thing just an act?”

“Nope.” he pops the p, licking lewd little circles on your neck, thumbing open your puffy folds to watch in amazement at the way you glisten and clamp around his fingers. Eyes flickering briefly to the recording phone in his hand. “But we gotta give ‘em a good show, huh?”

Right, you’d forgotten about the camera. But none of that matters anyway because-

Intensity setting 2.

“You’re so mean, too.”

“Am I?” he grins, teeth grazing along your racing pulse. “I think you taught that to me, baby. Shit, lesson 8 it was?”

God, he was addictive.

Choso’s having way too much fun playing around with the intensity setting of the bullet vibrator shoved inside your ravaged cunt. Sending quick, methodical vibrations all along your pulsing clit. In time with the breathless moans leaving your kiss-bitten lips, and it’s all you can to call out for- more? Mercy? Both? 

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“God, you’re so perfect. Shit, so messy f’me.” he groans, and you could tell that the video wasn’t going to be uploaded anyway. Too shaky, focusing in and out of Choso’s fingers. Knuckle-deep and pumping in and out of your filthy hole. Relentless. “Almost makes me wanna show off to an actual audience.”

“Maybe I want to, too.” you muse, shifting at his heated gaze. Dangerously pressing your thumb over those nipple piercings you’ve gotten to know so well lately - as if to support your point. God you wish he’d take off that snug shirt.

Intensity setting 3.

“That so?”

And no matter how many times Choso’s ruined you on camera - and watched the videos over and over afterwards - he always thought they weren’t enough to capture your perfection. 

“Such a slut f’me, baby.” To capture the exact moment in which your wet lips fall into a soft little oh! when he massages your walls in time with the pulsing vibrator. To capture that absolutely sinfully excited little glint in your eyes as he ruts his clothed erection against your pussy. “Y’always this dirty?” Quickly turning into a look of slight panic at the sudden jingle of keys from the front door. 

“Yo, brat. Where the fuck are ya?”

Ah, there he was, the reason that Choso usually locked his bedroom door whenever you were over, even if he was home alone. 

Intensity setting 4.

As the silence continues, so does Choso’s abuse on your cunt. In fact, he only gets more erratic - like he wanted you to cum. Needed you to cum right now, right here in front of Sukuna, footsteps only growing louder. Nearer.

“Cho-” you fight to get out the words. “He’s hah-.”

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Can’t speak? That’s cute.” he coos, voice way too relaxed for someone whose mind was reeling with the realization that he couldn’t remember if he locked the door this time, and how adorable you sounded. Enough so that it made some raw, primal part of him wanna pull down his pants and fuck you right here right now. Cockblocks and his own virginity be damned. “C’mon now, use your words like a good girl. Tell the camera.”

Cocky bastard.

Bzzzt-bzzzt-bzzzzt-

“Close!” you yelp, unsure of whether you were talking about yourself or the looming Sukuna. Jaw slack, tears springing into your ears as you look up at Choso. “So close.”

God, you were addictive. And this video was definitely going in both your favorites.

“Mhm,” he hums, movements getting hastier. More desperate. “I know, ma’am.”

Intensity setting 5.

That’s all that it takes for you to cum, letting out a loud strangled moan of Choso’s name. Or, you would’ve - if it hadn’t been for the way he’s shoving two, thick fingers into your mouth.

Silencing you - and in your hazy brain you think that if this was his way of shutting you up, then you really didn’t mind. Because all you could taste was you and the cold, cold metal of his rings. Somewhat intoxicating.

“Shhhhhh.” he’s breathing out, still mindlessly grinding his hips into yours. Though, you realize with a pang that today won’t be the day you get to feel that achingly hard erection straining his pants. “These pretty moans aren’t for him, hm?”

Pressing on the back of your tongue, smirking at the way you nod tearily up at him, moans still muffled. Hell, do you even know how sexy you’re being right now.

“Mhm, all f’me. All for fuckin’ me.”

Knock! Knock! Knock! 

“Why the fuck are you locked up in here on a Saturday night?” Sukuna sounds impatient, but not surprised. Probably imagining all sorts of dorky things his nephew was doing to hole himself up in his room. “Come out n’ get this takeout- what’s left of it anyways.”

And with that, it’s like the magic is over.

Your high only just bating before Choso’s hurriedly ending the recording on a hazy still of your disappointed pout, cursing Sukuna for his impeccable timing. 

Slightly concerned about the door being broken down and someone else seeing you in all your fucked-out glory, he hastily moves to grab the spare cloth by his bedside. Cleaning you up with hushed promises of “sending the recording later”, and “s’alright, he’ll be gone soon.”

Close. You were so close.

A win-win situation - but you’ve never felt like more of a loser.

---

“By God, I never thought he’d get the balls to do it.”

You yelp in surprise at the deep voice from behind you, whirling with a defiant brandish of Choso’s (your?) keys. He’d given them to you a few lessons ago, saying it would make it easier for you to come and go from his apartment as you pleased. Which - to you - felt dangerously like something a boyfriend would say-

But that wasn’t important right now.

What was important was the older man suddenly towering over you right outside Choso’s front door. Big arms crossed over his chest, that leering smirk clashing with his pink hair. “I knew it was odd that brat had a pair of heels by the door.”

Shit. Sukuna.

Ryomen awfully-wingman-his-nephew Sukuna.

“Spill.” At your confused head tilt, he plows on. “Spill the tea. I need new blackmail on my lil’ nephew. How badly did he have to beg you to go out with him?”

You don’t know what was more bizarre - what he was saying or the way he actually pulls out his Notes app as if hanging on to your every word. 

“I-It’s because of you.” you manage to choke out, unsure of what Choso has told his family about you.  Eyes flitting between him and the door right behind you, sounding your very best not to sound just as guilty as you felt. “You’re the reason we have this weird…thing.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two. 

And just as you’re beginning to wonder whether you’ve broken Choso’s infamous uncle, he throws his head back and laughs. Laughs, right in your face, sounding like he’d just heard the funniest punchline in the world. 

“Oh that’s hilarious.” he exclaims, wiping a mock tear. Cackles dying down as if he was suddenly aware that maybe Choso would hear and walk in on this impromptu interrogation. “Damn, that awful pick-up line is why you started fuckin’? I thought it’d get that sap blocked so he’d stop stalking your account so much.”

“No, we…” you hesitate, mind reeling with what Sukuna just admitted, and how bad it would really be that you’re divulging your sex life to a relative of the guy you’re fucking. Before thinking fuck it, might as well confide in someone. “...we’re just doing stuff for-” putting up air quotes. “-content.”

“Just content?”

“Just content.”

“And you like that fool?”

Your face burns at how glaringly obvious it apparently was, “...Yes.”

This seemingly sets Sukuna off on another wave of uncontrollable laughter. “Ohh, thanks for the blackmail on that emotionally-constipated brat.” Typing away on what you assume to be his Notes, he promptly turns to walk away, “See ya around, doll.”

“Wait!” you call after in confusion, making him stop and raise a brow. “Aren’t you supposed to like- I don’t know, give me advice for your nephew or something - like a good uncle?”

Scoffing, “Who said I was a good uncle?” He leans in ever-so-slightly, “Jus’ rock his world on camera or somethin’ n’ ask him out right in the middle.” Satisfied with being enough of a decent samaritan for today, he walks back with a half-wave, “He’d listen to whatever you say anyway.”

Oh. Is that so?

And Sukuna probably meant it as some joke. Something to tease the both of you with - but it’s something that sets the gears going off inside your head. Something that had you ignoring Sukuna’s slightly panicked, “Jus’ not too soon, I needa bully him with this first.”

---

You didn’t listen to Sukuna’s little plea, of course. Because only a few days later you’d steeled yourself to finally send that one text you knew would change your relationship with Choso. For the good, hopefully. 

You: 9pm my place. Get ready, cuz this time we’re gonna be live ;)

Cho <3: :0 

And with that, you’d thrown your phone on the bed, jittery about later tonight. Browsing through your wardrobe for that one set of barely-there lingerie in his favorite shade of pink. Hey, you could never be too prepared, right?

Nothing could’ve prepared Choso for this moment - absolutely nothing at all. 

He might’ve just died and gone to heaven the very moment he read that dangerous text - finally inviting him to join one of your streams. The ones that he’d always watch in the safety of his bedroom, lights dimmed, pants bunched around his ankles. 

Cock just achingly hard in his fist while he wished he was with you behind the camera. Getting you off so much better than any sextoy would. Just forcing those pretty moans from your lips - and everyone else could see that. Wish it was them ruining you instead. 

Alas, it was only a dirty little fantasy. 

Until now, that is.

slvt4u: Holy shit boyfriend reveal, about time.

uniwhore: THIS is the hottie from Twitter????? 

itsgenslut: idfc just fuck

“Nervous?” you smirk, looking down at the man sprawled so prettily on your bed. “You look just as close to an aneurysm as you were the first time. Though-” snaking your hand down, “-this is still the same as ever.”

You chuckle at the way Choso catches your lips with his, more to shut up those pathetic little moans threatening to escape him than anything. Because every glance at you in that sinful little pink bra gave Choso a mini heart attack. 

“B-baby-” he gasps, grinding his clothed erection against your palms. “I wan- hah-”

“Mhm?”

And God how you’ve ruined Choso - run him so utterly dry of his sanity.

Because he’s angling your head down, piercing cold against your tongue. “Spit.”

It was like that first time had gotten him addicted. So you do - right into his waiting mouth. Jaw dropping at the way he tips his head back, back, back to let it slide so obscenely down his throat. Moaning at just a taste of you, “God, I need to f-fucking ruin you.”

And if there’s anything you’ve learned after all these months with Choso, it’s that anything he says - he does.

The words have barely left his mouth before he’s pulling your bra off, ripping your panties easily off your hips. Each and every little regret about what a shame it was thrown out the window at the first sight of your pretty pussy. 

It never gets old - and Choso could never get enough of the sinful sight - your cunt so sloppy and ready for him already. 

“Cho-” you whine as ringed fingertips coming up to circle your sloppy entrance. Cold. Stretching you to insanity. “S-stop teasing.”

“Yes, ma’am. But first-” shifting you around ever-so-slightly on top of him. “Gotta show off how wet y’are f’me.”

uniwhore: did he just call her “ma’am”?? Me when??

roses101: idk who i wanna be they’re both so fucking hot ugh

“Fuck, y’look so sexy from this angle. Wonder if the camera thinks so too?”

Your face slightly burns at how he was seemingly taking over your own stream. Smug bastard, you think, glancing down at Choso, red-faced, hair untied, wearing a sly grin as his eyes slide over the flurry of comments. But two can play that game. 

“Cho~” fumbling with the hem of his underwear, “You’ve been holding out on me.”

A gasp leaves you involuntarily as you tug down Choso’s boxers just enough for his throbbing cock to spring free, hitting his sculpted abdomen. Blushed your favorite shade of pink - to match your bra - so so angry and soaked in precum. 

He was so intimidatingly long - longer than any of those toys you usually brought on camera. Thick enough that it had you wondering, shit, would you even be able to take it?

“S’this a-alright?” and for all his previous confidence, Choso sounded self-conscious. Peeking at you through his long lashes.

You grin, pumping a hand up and down his swollen cock, letting his precum drip down your wrist. “S’perfect.”

“God- fuck, baby. Oh-” Choso lets out breathless little profanities as you straddle his waist, dragging his weeping tip down your swollen folds. So fucking filthy as you sink down in by fucking in. Slowly. “Too- much-”

Apparently too slow because no sooner have you just taken in his fat tip, squeezing and clenching around him, that Choso’s flipping the both of you over. 

“M’sorry.” he breathes into your mouth as your back hits the mattress. “M’sorry m’sorry, fuck- just can’t-” fingers immediately drawing frenzied little circles on your pulsing clit to take your mind off the dizzying stretch as he bullies his massive cock into your snug cunt. “Can’t wait can’t wait- waited too fucking long. Want this so badly-”

You felt too good. Too perfect around him. 

“Ah! Hngh- Cho, oh my god. Too- ngh-” you moan, as he starts grinding in shallow, mindless little movements just to fit himself inside. Pushing and pushing, you wondered if he even realized what he was doing.

Sounding like his sanity was dwindling away with each little thrust, “S’too big? You can take it. Fuck fuck fuck please. Need this.” Pressing all the way into your lungs. “How do you wan’ it- how do you wan’ me?”

Honestly, Choso didn’t even need to ask, because he just bottoms out - heavy balls smacking against your ass, cock swollen and throbbing inside you - that you think that you just wanted him to ruin you. 

“R-ruin?” his voice breaks as he repeats - more to himself than you. Oh, shit had you said that out loud? You’re speechless as Choso throws your legs over his shoulder, dragging his swollen lips lazily across your ankle. “Yes ma’am.”

Oh. You might as well have just signed off your will. 

Because then he’s fucking into your sloppy cunt. Unforgiving. A man starved because he was. Jagged, quick thrusts, splitting you apart deeper and deeper on his rock-hard cock. 

“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck-” he pants into your open mouth, finding it so fucking difficult to find any rhythm when your tight cunt was milking him so good. “You feel so good. So messy. Ya love it like this, huh? Being hngh- watched?”

“Hngh-” you buck wildly into his body, reaching up to play coyly with his nipple piercings. Tugging and pulling lightly. “Feels too good- are- ah- are ya sure this is your first time?”

Honestly, it was a wonder Choso didn’t cum right then and there. 

Tojisslvt: need someone to fuck me like this the first time

22sabi: Typing with one hand is so hard.

DaStrongest: i could fuck her so much better than than inexperienced loser

Choso throws his head back in a cruel little laugh at that last comment, something that makes you tingle all the way from your burning cheeks to your stuffed cunt. Clamping down deliciously on Choso’s unforgiving cock in a way that makes his hips and fingers stutter. 

“Ya think you could fuck her better?” it takes you a second to realize he was talking to the camera and not you. Thrusts getting sloppier, getting familiar. “I’m the one that got her so messy like this.” Purposeful. Calculated. Like he was aiming for that one-

“Fuck!” you scream as he hits that magic spot. Once. And then over and over like a man possessed. Just so utterly ruining you the way you knew he could. “Cho oh my god- I can’t hah- ngh-”

The cold metal of Choso’s rings dig into your cheek softly as he turns you head to face him. God, this was the stuff of his wildest dreams.

You - teary eyed and looking up at him like such a slut. Pussy getting wetter - tighter - as he teases you in front of the camera. Torn between running away from his relentless cock and bucking up for more more more-

 “Fuck no no no- Keep your legs open, baby. Don’t hah- run away from me.” his fingers dig into your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. “Don’t- need this. Need this so ba- shit.” 

And he sounded so genuinely worried he’d lose the feeling of your heady cunt. Fingers bruising on your hips as he pulls you closer. Like he was trying to fuck out any and every shred of shyness out of your body. 

slvt4u: Always the quiet ones.

DaStrongest: heh, fuck off. i’d make her cum so much harder.

Now, Choso was fucking you like he had a point to prove, and it was probably the only reason he hadn’t passed out from how good your pussy felt wrapped around him. 

Both of you were barely-lucid at this point - and he was out of control now.

Pussy drunk thoughts unfiltered, “No one’s ever d-done this- got me hah- feeling like this.” And you had the distinct feeling he just beat you to your original goal, letting out sweet little babbles into your open mouth - though his hips were anything but. 

So hard that you were sure the creases of your sheets would leave marks for tomorrow - along with his balls on your ass, your ankles on his shoulders, lips searing against yours. It was like he wanted to prove something - to prove he was good enough to- the viewers? To you? 

Knowing your body well enough to hit that one spot over and over until you were sobbing. Fingers erratic on your clit. 

“Cho-” you squeal, tears springing to your eyes as he only gets sloppier. “I-I’m gonna-”

“Cum?” he breathes, as if he couldn’t believe it. And fuck if you weren’t the gates of heaven spread wide open for him then he didn’t know what was. “Fucking cum. Please please- hah- f’me. Cum on m’cock n’ make them jealous. F’me- Like you’re mine.”

You barely even realize when you are. Jaw slack, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you see stars behind your eyes, blood roaring in your ears. God, he was gonna have to go home and rewatch this stream all over again. 

“Ngh- m’cumming m’cumming oh-”

Not even realizing the way you’re dragging your nails down Choso’s sculpted back. Marking up his milky skin - and he lets you. 

Loved it in fact- the way he loved you. 

Your eyes go wide, and Choso knows he’s fucked up. Realizing with a jolt that words were tumbling out of his mouth before he could stop them. But it’s the way you squeeze him tighter- giving him such a gorgeous little fucked-out smile that sends him over the edge.

Sharp canines digging into the crook of your neck like he wanted to break skin, holding himself back from breaking you while he cums and cums so hard it hurt. Over and over-

“Love you- love you love you love you-” he’s muttering into the skin, unbarred. “Since I first saw hah- you. Wanted this more than fuck fuck- air that I breathe.”

His seed was oozing out of you now, painting your ravaged pussy white, dribbling down your legs.  So fucking full and debauched. Thick, hot globs that were sure to stain those overpriced new sheets. But did Choso care for the mess? Not at all. 

Because you were holding him so impossibly tight, pushing away the strands of hair sticking to his forehead. Whispering little praises as he fucks you through his first time. Close. Warm. Everything he ever dreamed of.

“S’everything I ever dreamed of, too, Cho.”

And he knows he’s won. 

urfavslvt: Proudest nut. Want more.

uniwhore: does this mean couples content??? Pls say yes plsplspls

DaStrongest: invite me next time <3

“Thought you were embarrassed.” he licks soothingly over the bite. Voice shot, piercing smooth against his tongue. Embarrassing little confessions leaving him with each spark of electricity running through his veins. “Thought you didn’t stream w’me cuz of that- but shit. Dreamed of this f’so long. So long-”

Oh?

“Hey, Cho.” your voice rings through his hazy mind. Just enough for Choso to raise his head and meet your intoxicating, sultry gaze. Giving a sly, sidelong glance at the still-blinking camera. 

“Mhm?”

“Wanna film a week’s worth of ‘movies’ in advance?”

---

Sukuna (do not answer): Oi shitty nephew, where r u Jin made me come over with (half) leftovers.

You: Sorry, not home. At the movies rn.

Sukuna (do not answer): When tf do u go to movies?? 

You: Since now, on a date. You probably can’t relate.

Sukuna (do not answer): Stfu n’ stop lying, a date with who? Ur body pillow?? Not like u had the balls to ask out that pretty lil’ camgirl anyway.

Haha

Right? 

You: *girlfriend

Sukuna (do not answer): Huh?

You: Girlfriend.

Sukuna (do not answer): THE FUCKIN’ PICK-UP LINE WORKED??

A/N. This came out a LOT longer than expected. 

Plagiarism not authorized.

[pinolitas]

i hate being my parents' parent

[gloomwitchwrites]

may I request a what-if with the 141 where reader pranks the members by buying a fake military knife that isn’t dangerous and hands it to their baby? Like this: https://youtube.com/shorts/aQGZTdYRX6c?si=pX7ja8U4VGL2dATi

(I’m bad at explaining things so I hope you don’t mind the video link for an example)

The video link is totally fine! I appreciate you sending that in for a reference! And you didn't do a terrible job explaining, anon. I immediately knew what you were talking about! Now, this is all in good fun, but I don't recommend you doing it in real life. Can you guess who has the calmest reaction of the four?

For the masterlist and how to submit your own request, click HERE

Task Force 141 x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (MDNI): swearing, married life, dad!141, girl dad! 141, pranks & shenanigans

Word Count: 1k

ao3 // main masterlist // imagines & what if series

John Price

John is in his office. It’s the perfect opportunity.

With as much stealth as you can muster, you creep into the living room. In the center of the room is an enclosed space were your daughter crawls around on their stomach. When you approach, she babbles, and you grin down at her.

“Here,” you whisper, placing a prop knife next to her.

The thing is made of rubber and plastic. It won’t cause any actual harm. She immediately reaches for it, tiny fingers unable to completely wrap around the handle.

Backing up slowly, you call out to your husband. “John! Can you check on the baby?”

A pause. “Course, love,” he replies.

You hurry back into the kitchen just as you hear the squeak of his chair. John emerges, rubbing at the back of his neck. His head is down, gaze lowered, and when he notices his daughter, John grins.

“Hello, sweet girl,” he coos. “What do you have—” John’s gentle tone because one of sharp concern. “The fuck.”

John lunges, disappearing beyond your line of sight. He reappears seconds later with his daughter tucked in one arm and the pretend knife clutched in his opposite hand. With the pointy end pointed away from the precious cargo he carries, John slowly walks over to the wall and presses the blade to it.

The rubber surrenders, bending in on itself.

John sighs heavily, and then slowly turns his head in your direction.

You give him your best shit-eating grin as your daughter giggles manically.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

“What are you doing? What’s in your hand?”

Simon sounds…calm. Why does he sound so calm? He should be stressed right now. Panicking.

“Is that a knife? That’s dangerous. Want to give it to me?”

Sure, the knife is fake. Made of flexible rubber and plastic, it won’t harm anyone. But at a glance it appears real enough. Did Simon see you hand it to your daughter? Is he aware of the joke and just playing along?

You creep closer, not wanting to give away your hiding spot.

“Very good. Hand that to daddy.”

Your daughter coos, and then Simon appears from thin air.

“Oh fuck,” you gasp. “You scared me.”

“Really?” he deadpans, holding up the prop knife.

Your daughter comes waddling out after him wrapping her chubby arms around his leg while she happily mumbles “daddy.”

“I thought it was hilarious,” you mutter as he tosses it at you.

Simon bends at the knees and scoops up his daughter. As he passes, he leans down, lips almost pressing against your ear. “I knew the moment I laid eyes on it. Didn’t fool me.”

“I don’t believe you.”

He grins, and winks. “Comes with the territory of the job, love. I’d spot a fake anywhere.”

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

Your daughter sits in her high chair, chewing on the end of the fake knife you’ve handed her. It’s just a prop, made to not cause any actual arm. She chews on the pointy end, drool dripping on to her tiny fingers.

Slowly, you back away, poised to dart down the hall to hide.

“Can you watch her?” you call out.

Kyle answers a few seconds later. “What?”

“Can you watch her?” You move out of the kitchen and into the hall.

“Where is she?”

“In the kitchen,” you shout back. “She’s eating.”

You hear Kyle’s voice soften. “What are you eating, love? What—oh. What the fuck!”

With the rise of surprise in his tone, you return to the kitchen. “Something wrong?”

Your daughter giggles and coos, arms outstretched as she reaches for her father. Kyle holds the knife in two hands, an unamused expression on his face.

“Did I get you?” you ask with a grin.

The annoyed expression melts, becoming a soft smile. “You did.”

He bends forward and places a quick kiss to the top of his daughter’s head. As he draws away from her, he reaches for you, grabbing your waist to pull you in. “And you’re a bloody menace.”

John "Soap" MacTavish

You bend at the knees, holding out the prop knife to your little one. It’s made of rubber and plastic, but it looks real, and that’s the point. With a gleeful giggle, she takes the fake knife, completely unaware of the part she’s about to play in pranking her father.

“Go find daddy,” you coax, pointing in the direction of the living room.

She coos softly, pivots, and begins to walk forward. Each step is stilted as she wobbles toward the sofa. Johnny is on the game with the boys. His entire attention is on the television.

As your daughter approaches him, she lifts her little arm above her head, holding the fake knife high in the air like she’s a tiny Jason Voorhees. From her mouth comes nonsense, just a long breath of babbling, sounds, and the occasional word.

Johnny might be on the game, but he senses her nearness, leaning in her direction. As she rounds the sofa, her tiny body disappears. The only thing you can see is the occasional glimpse of the knife point. She screeches with glee and Johnny’s attention shifts. It’s a brief look, one intended to simply make sure she’s okay, but then he’s doing a double-take.

“What the fuck!”

Johnny launches himself off the couch, the game controller flying. Your daughter points the knife at him and Johnny immediately raises his hands in surrender.

“Where’d you get that? Find it on the ground somewhere?”

You nearly snort. He’s trying to sound calm but you hear the bite of panic.

Your daughter’s reply is to charge him. Johnny sidesteps her pathetic swing before plucking the knife right of her hand.

“How—” He stops. Frowns. And then places his entire hand around the blade. He releases it. Repeats the gesture.

Johnny glances up and chuckles, locking eyes with you. “You’re bloody well having a laugh at me, aren’t you?”

[ijustwannabecool]

Vogue Beauty Secrets

Max Verstappen x Wife!Reader

Summary... Vogue asks Y/N to film her skincare and makeup routine.

A/N: I hope you guys enjoy this little blurb. Let me know what you guys wanna see next. Request are open.

⋆｡˚☁︎˚｡⋆｡˚☽˚｡⋆

The video opens with the click of a camera turning on, followed by a small laugh.

“Hi, Vogue,” Y/N greets warmly, brushing a few strands of hair behind her ear. Her skin is fresh, makeup-free, her voice still a bit husky from sleep. “I’m Y/N Verstappen and I’ve been asked to share my daily beauty routine… which honestly feels like a joke considering I’ve been up since 5 a.m. because my daughter thinks that’s an acceptable wake-up time.”

She shrugs playfully, leaning on the white marble bathroom counter. Behind her, viewers get a glimpse of their Amsterdam apartment, clean lines, cozy lighting, a plant in every corner.

“So let’s get into it,” she smiles. “I already cleansed off-camera because, well, my toddler smeared porridge on my face earlier and that wasn’t very Vogue.”

She lifts a bottle toward the camera. “This is what I used, super gentle, because hormones after breastfeeding are no joke. I used this religiously when Isa was still newborn and I felt like a walking zombie with acne.”

Just then, there’s a tiny knock on the bathroom door. Y/N pauses.

“Mama?” A small voice calls.

She bites back a smile. “Come in, schatje.”

Isa waddles into the room in her little bunny-print pajamas, hair a curly mess, one sock missing, holding her plush lion by the tail. Her eyes are wide with sleepy curiosity as she pads in and immediately reaches her arms up.

Y/N lifts her easily, balancing the toddler on one hip.

“This is Isa,” she chuckles. “My shadow. She doesn’t believe in personal space. Or sleep-ins.”

Isa rests her head against Y/N’s shoulder and waves lazily at the camera, mumbling, “Hi Vogue.”

“I’m gonna keep going while she hangs out,” Y/N explains. “Mom life doesn’t pause for skincare, right?”

She manages to tone with one hand, dotting serum on her cheeks while Isa fiddles with the collar of her robe.

And then, “Lieverd?” Max’s voice comes from somewhere off-camera. “Have you seen her other sock? She left it in the pantry again, I think.”

Y/N rolls her eyes fondly. “Check under the cereal boxes.”

There’s a pause.

“Got it.”

Max enters a moment later, barefoot in sweatpants and one of Y/N’s oversized hoodies, holding the missing sock like it’s a trophy.

“Victory,” he smirks, and steps into view to slide it onto Isa’s tiny foot as she babbles softly.

“Oh, and if I didn’t mention it... I’m married to that guy,” Y/N gestures at him, “who sometimes borrows my hoodies and always makes me tea while I do this.”

As if on cue, Max returns moments later with a steaming mug and a kiss to her temple. He doesn’t say anything else, just gives her a little smile and nods toward the camera like you’ve got this before disappearing again.

Y/N smiles after him.

“Okay, so next, I use this moisturizer. I keep it in the fridge because Max likes our house at ‘race car garage’ levels of cold and my skin can’t cope.”

She taps product on her face gently, still bouncing Isa in her arms.

“Lip balm,” she adds, reaching across the counter. “I don’t go anywhere without it. This one smells like mango. Isa always tries to eat it.”

“Mine,” Isa declares sleepily, snatching it from Y/N’s hand.

Y/N laughs. “Told you.”

There’s another interruption, this time the sound of a crash followed by Max’s startled “Alles goed?!” from the other room.

Y/N blinks at the camera, totally unbothered. “That’s our cat knocking over Max’s trophies again. She has a personal vendetta against the Monaco one.”

She finishes her makeup: light concealer, brow gel, tinted lip balm, all with Isa still perched on her hip.

“Oh, and when I do go to races, I do a bit more. Blush, mascara, maybe eyeliner if Isa hasn’t decided my makeup brush is her new toy.”

From the mirror, you can see Max re-entering, now carrying their cat under one arm and waving a toy toothbrush in the other.

“Does this belong to the tiny dictator?”

Isa perks up. “MINE!”

Max hands it over solemnly. “I thought so.”

He leans against the counter again, watching as Y/N wraps up her routine.

“You look beautiful,” he murmurs under his breath.

Y/N smiles at the compliment but turns it into a tease. “Even without the mascara?”

Max grins. “Always.”

The camera catches Isa reaching over to swipe her fingers in the blush compact and smear it across Y/N’s cheek. Y/N gasps in mock horror while Max bursts into a quiet laugh.

“Raw and unfiltered,” Y/N tells the camera, dabbing at her cheek. “Exactly what Vogue asked for, right?”

She sets Isa down gently, and the little girl waddles over to Max, nestling herself into his arms like a koala.

“I don’t get a lot of ‘me’ time,” Y/N admits, tucking her hair behind her ears. “But I wouldn’t trade this life for anything. It’s messy. Loud. Exhausting. But also, really, really full of love.”

Max leans into the frame for a moment, his voice soft. “That’s because you’re the heart of it.”

Y/N blushes, swats him away gently, and turns back to the camera.

“Thank you for watching this chaos. And Vogue? If you ever want a dad edition of this, Max has a killer 7-step beard care routine he refuses to admit to.”

Max, now offscreen, calls out, “That’s classified information.”

Y/N grins. “Bye, Vogue.”

She reaches to turn off the camera just as Isa squeals from the other room: “DAAAADDY! Cat stole my toast!”

Fade to black.

------

The end...

[darkbluekies]

Broken restraints

Yandere!doctor oc x reader

Summary: you've finally had enough and decides to switch the roles on your doctor, to try to get where he has placed the poison that is destroying you

Warnings: drugging, reader is held captive and poisoned, basically a little manhandling of darling?, restraints, manipulation/kind of infantilization

Word count: 2k

Your heart is beating. This can backfire horrendously, but what other choice do you have?

“Can I have something to eat?” you ask as he places the two cups on the table.

“Are you hungry?” he wonders and gives you a worried look, always speaking to you in that soft, understanding tone. “Didn't you like the dinner?”

“I did, but I'm still hungry.”

“Okay, would you want a sandwich? Or a fruit?”

“Whatever, please.”

He nods. “Okay, I'll be back soon.”

You wait for the door to click shut before opening your hand where he's placed the sleeping pills. Your eyes turn to his coffee cup. This is such a bad idea.

You grab your own cup of chamomile tea and place the pill underneath, gently crushing it against the desk, grinding it into a fine powder. Your heart beats inside your chest. What if he comes back before you're done? If he forgot something? How do you explain this without telling the truth? 

You pour the powder into his coffee, stirring slightly and feeling your heart sink to your stomach. Despite what he's doing to you, there has to be another way, right? But then again, if there was another way you wouldn't be doing this.

I'm sorry but what else do I do?

He returns with an apple.

“Here you go, little one”, he says. “Can't let you go to bed hungry. It's good that you're hungry. As long as you're not nauseous. Or cramping.”

From your poison, you mean?

You take a bite of the apple just for it to be believable. He takes a sip of his coffee. Your heart stops.

“How are you feeling?” he asks after he's swallowed. “How's your head?”

“Fine”, you reply shortly. 

He reaches out, touching it as if you had a fever.

“That's good”, he says. 

He drinks some more. You try to take another bite of the apple, but you're too worried about him feeling the taste, or the texture of the crushed pill.

“You look like you're going to throw up”, he says. “Are you sure you're fine?”

“I-I actually am a bit nauseous, when I think about it”, you half lie. 

“See? I know when you're lying, you forget I read you like an open book. Drink some tea, it'll help.”

He pushes the cup closer to you. You sip carefully. The warming sensation only highlights the disgusting guilt.

He tucks you in, like he does everything night, and starts to move towards the door, but your hand grabs his white lab coat sleeve.

“Please don’t leave”, you whisper. “Not yet.”

He looks at you in a questioning manner. You've been so quiet ever since you got to know about the poisoned air purifier, not wanting him close. But he can't deny you. Never.

“Okay”, he says and sits down on his stool, rolling over to your bedside. “Just lay down. I'm not going anywhere.”

“Lay?” you ask quietly, patting the space on the bed beside you.

“Why?”

“Please.”

“You haven't wanted me near these last few weeks. You've been rather cross with me.”

“I'm scared. I'm desperate. Please.”

He reads you like an open book, he says, but you pray he feels sorry enough for you to ignore any warning signs. Dr Kry sighs, removes his lab coat, leaving him in his blue scrubs, and lays down on the side of the bed. His bare arm brushes yours. He's weirdly warm for someone so cold.

Carefully, he directs your head to lean on his shoulder without a word. You close your eyes and pretend to sleep, opening your eyes every now and then to see if he's asleep. He's bigger than you. Maybe the pill was too little for someone his size? Or maybe the caffeine in the coffee balanced it out?

“Doctor”, you whisper after a while. “Doctor Kry?”

He doesn't respond. You lift your head from his shoulder, leaning on your hand as you push yourself up on one arm. You realise that you've never seen him sleep. He looks content, peaceful almost.

It makes what you're about to do so much worse.

You glance at the leather straps that have left permanent marks on your wrists from his discipline. Carefully you scoot over and lean over him to grab his right wrist, fully ready for him to grab you at any second. But he doesn't. Slowly, you fasten it to the side of the bed with the buckle straps. And then the other. You get off the bed and back away, taking in the sight. It makes you nauseous.

You walk over to the cabinet by the corner and pull over his stool to get a better look at the purifier. One hand covers your mouth and nose as the other twists and turns the little box, looking for the poison. Nowhere. This close, it looks harmless. 

You make your way down and over to his desk, looking through the drawers. There’s only papers. And documentation. You look throughout the room, but the poison is nowhere to be found. How can you ever get well if you don't even know what you've inhaled?

You have no choice but wait for Dr Kry to wake up. You sit down on his stool, waiting. It's tiresome, long, boring.

His eyes finally flutter open two hours later. You hold your breath. He blinks for a second, feeling something wrong. His hands tug at the restraints. 

“Y/N.”

You've never heard his voice like that spoken your way, only those few unfortunate times he has shown that dark side of his. But then that voice was never used against you.

His chest rises and falls with heavy breaths. 

“What have you done?” he asks. “Release me. Now.”

“Wait”, you say. 

“Get me out, Y/N. I'm not joking.”

“You have to listen to me first.”

“How did you manage to do this? You—...I see. You did something with the sleeping pill. Your little joke is not funny. Release me now and I will forget about this.”

“No, you have to listen to me!”

“I have to listen to you? With these kinds of methods you have?”

“Doctor, please.”

He looks at you for a second before clenching his jaw, leaning back slightly. He doesn't say anything, doesn't accept it, but he doesn't reject it.

“Where's the poison?” you question.

“Poison?” 

He looks straight at you, cold blue eyes sending ice throughout you. Anger is so unlike Dr Kry. Maybe this wasn't a good idea.

“Should have asked me when I was free, sweetheart”, he bites back. “I can't move. I can't show you.”

“You have a mouth. You can speak.”

“And you have one too, that's how humans work. One that works without having to tie me down.”

“You wouldn't have listened to me. And if you would have, you wouldn't have taken me seriously.”

“And you think this helps your cause? Because, to me, this looks like the doing of someone who's not well. Who can't be reasoned with. Who's too sick to take care of themselves, and that's why I have to.”

“I'm sick because of you! I want to know where the poison is.”

“Why? So you can go to the cops? I'm sorry, sweetheart but they won't be able to help you. That poison is of my own doing. There is no antidote on the market and if they want to figure out what I've put in it it'll take years to develop one … and who says they'll actually be able to? It's not unusual that new, untested substances make you worse. Face it, I'm the only one that can heal you.”

“You don't have an antidote.”

Kry scoffs. “Don't I? Do you think I'd be so stupid to develop a poison for my beloved, and not create an antidote in case something goes wrong?”

“Where is it?”

“Not in here … but I can show you.”

You hesitate. You're not sure if it's out of pure desperation, need to get out of the situation or the poison clogging your brain, but you move towards the bed. Unsure lying, as if you're waiting for a thought clear enough to stop you. Nothing comes.

You unbuckle one of his wrists. He immediately moves it in circles to massage it, grunting. As soon as you've loosened the other, he doesn't waste time. He flies up from the bed and in one motion, grabs hold of your jaw with his hand and forces you backwards. The grip isn't painful, but it's firm and unyielding. You've known that he's strong, but not like this. 

You stumble backwards until your back finally hits the wall beside the bathroom door. He towers over you, looking down at you in a way he's never done before. It's anger … mixed with something. 

He holds your jaw with one hand, thumb and index finger digging into your cheeks. He tilts it upwards, stretching your neck. You stare wide eyed, fear exploding in you like fireworks.

“What was that?” he hisses. “Do not ever do that again, do you hear me?”

“Let go!” 

“Y/N, don't you realise what could have happened if you hadn't released me? You're not well, you need me, precisely because of these kinds of things. See what happens when you think for yourself with that clogged head of yours?”

You try to turn your head away but he doesn't let you. His grip is still not harsh, just firm.

“You're irrational, hysteric”, he hisses. “And you think I will release you? When you act like this? How will you survive? Antidote or not, you're a danger. Both to yourself and others, clearly.” He thinks for a moment. “That's it.”

Swiftly he lets go of your face, bends down and picks you up, hoisting you over his broad shoulder. You yelp, trying to steady yourself against his back.

“Since you can't be trusted, I have to use your own tricks against you”, he says, walking back to the bed.

He places you down on the mattress carefully, supporting both your head and waist before roughly taking one of your wrists and fastens it to the belt buckle. He tightens it enough for you to not wiggle, on both sides. You stare at them, trying to move. Dr Kry grabs your chin, making you look at him again.

“Are they too tight?” he asks firmly. “If you can't answer verbally, nod or shake your head.”

You nod quickly. He gives the restraints a quick look, trying to decide if they truly are. He then stands straight.

“You'll be fine.”

He turns back to his desk and pops out another sleeping pill and grabs your glass of water that stands on the nightstand. He holds your face, forcing your mouth open and placing the pill on your tongue. Before you can close it, the glass is tilted against your lips. Water floods your mouth. His hand holds your jaw throughout it, refusing rejection. When the glass is removed, he tilts your head upwards.

“Don't fight it. Swallow.”

With the angle he has your neck in, you have no choice but to swallow the sleeping pill. You cough. 

“I despise having to use these kinds of methods against you”, he says dryly. “But if you refuse to listen to what’s best for you and behave, then I have to. I will put you back in your place, and that’s not to be mean. It’s to protect you.”

But then his eyes soften and his shoulders fall slightly. He sighs heavily, the anger running off of him.

“You should catch some sleep”, he says lowly. “You've been up later than usual. It's not good for your health.”

He tucks you in, jawstill clenched, but not angry. Not visibly. It's hard finding a comfortable position when your wrists are pinned.

“Y/N”, he says. “Don't do this again. Honestly. Don't.”

He gives off another sigh and leans down to kiss your forehead. You don't say anything.

“Sleep well”, he says.

He leaves the room, locking the door behind him. As soon as he's alone in the corridor, he leans against the wall, running a trembling hand over his face. This could easily have been avoided. He'll make sure it never happens again. If he has to feed you the medicine himself from now on, he will. Never again will he be put in that spot again.

[motorsportbarbie13]

One New Voicemail (Max's Version)

your relationship with max as told by his voicemails.

(no warnings. one angsty one but it's fine. extra credit to @lestapiastrisgirl for helping me with the last few ideas.)

Your First Date 

“Hi.” He clears his throat. 

“Its Max.” Pause.

“Verstappen.” 

Well. This was going splendidly. 

He chuckles. “You probably know that though, right? I didn’t quite plan this out.” 

He shakes his head. Whispers: clearly not you idiot. 

“Um. So. I just wanted to say thank you. For tonight. I mean, I planned everything and paid for it  all so I’m not thanking you for that…” Max winces. 

“Just…for being you. I don’t think I’ve ever had a first date like that. It felt like we talked for hours, which I guess we did, didn’t we?” 

He laughs again and you can almost see the way his eyes crinkle at the corners when he smiles at you. 

He hums “I liked it. I like you. When can I see you again? You said there was that Degas exhibit at the Louvre you’ve been wanting to see. We could go tomorrow? I’ll have Frank file flight plans first thing tomorrow morning.” 

Oh he was in so much trouble. 

“Okay. Bye.” 

Click. 

Your First Kiss 

“Hi.” Max is breathless, in awe of what just happened. 

“I know I just left but I can’t stop replaying that kiss in my head. I almost walked into a light pole your lips had me so distracted.” He shakes his head, head swiveling back to look at the offending pole. That would have been a fun black eye to explain.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for...” 

He pauses, like he’s remembering the first time he ever imagined pressing his lips to yours.

“God. For the longest time. Since I saw you that first night at that dinner party.” 

Mutual friends he’d have to thank tomorrow morning for giving him what felt like a turning point in his life.

“You had the same lipstick on tonight and I just…had to know how your lips tasted.” 

It had been slow, dripping through your closely pressed skin, sticky-sweet as honey. Max would never forget it for as long as he had breath in his lungs.

“You’ve ruined me, schat.” He accuses but there’s no fire in the words. No real accusations, just statement of facts. “Ruined.”

He shakes his head again, reaching for the car key in his pocket.

“Can we do it again tomorrow? And the next day?”

And forever?

He leaves that part out. For now. 

Click. 

He Wonders If He's Worth It 

“Are you…sure?” He’s anxious, you can tell by the way he breathes on the other end of the line.

“I just wanted to ask again because I can’t quite believe I got you to agree to be my girlfriend” His laugh is anything but humorous. It’s dry. Brittle. 

“Being with me is a lot. I know it’s a lot and it’s a lot to ask of someone.” He thinks he might be able to let you go now if you walked away. He’s scared you’re going to. 

“If you don’t want to be involved with me, I’d understand.” 

The fear of losing you grips at him like ice. You can hear it in his voice and your heart shatters because he doesn’t realize how badly you’re falling for him too. 

“It’s just…I feel like I can breathe around you. I don’t have to wear a mask or be Max Verstappen, 4 time world champion. I can just be Max.” 

A pause. As if he’s gathering the courage to choke out the last words on the tip of his tongue.

“Your Max. If you’ll have me.” 

The last bit is whispered, like he doesn’t want the world to hear how weak he is for you. How easily he’d follow you anywhere. 

“Okay. Bye.” 

Click. 

He Wins The Championship

“Baby!!!” He shouts, laughter filling every corner of his voice. 

“We won! The championship they said I couldn’t win!” Around him, champagne drips and gin flows.

“Where’d you go? I just saw you and then you vanished!!” 

You had told him ten seconds before he had pulled out his phone to call you. A trip to the Ladies Room was required and he knew that. But the 5th gin and tonic robbed him of his memory. 

“Can you believe I’m a FIVE TIME world champion?” Max’s shouts turn watery, like the emotion is hitting him like a freight train. 

“I’m so glad you were here to be with me. I never want to win without you ever again.” 

He’s getting sentimental. It used to be a rarity with him, the Flying Dutchman trained up to be a champion by Jos. But now? Now he was soft. So soft. But only for you. Always for you. 

“I miss you.” He pouts. 

The music thumps in the background, causing Max’s head to spin. 

And then, you. Across the room, returning from your trek to the restroom. He spots you and his entire face brightens. 

“There you are!” He coos into his phone. “Fuck, you’re so pretty. Did you know that? You’re so fucking beautiful and I can’t wait to marry you.” 

He doesn’t realize the weight of the words falling from his lips. But he means every syllable. 

“Okay, I’m hanging up now because I want to go make out with you. Bye.” 

Click. 

You Two Fight 

“Liefje, please.” Max is panicking. 

“It’s the middle of the night and it’s raining. It’s not safe for you to be out right now, I don’t care how mad at me you are.”

It had been stupid, the fight. It had spun out of control too quickly, whipped up out of thin air thanks to too many nights on the road and too little time spent together.  

“Please, for the love of God come back to me.” The tears fall freely now, he’s never seen you this angry. 

He’d neglected you, gambled away the love that you so freely give him without complaint. And now you had walked right out as easily as if you were going to the store. It was just another day to you.  

“I’m so sorry, I shouldn’t have yelled. I’ve never raised my voice at you ever, I don’t know what came over me. I…” He shatters around the words. 

“I don’t even know why I was angry anymore.” It was the truth. He didn’t know why he had snapped, why he exchanged soft whispers for barbed shouts, sharp around the edges, filling his mouth with glass. 

“We’ve never fought like this and now your car is gone and it’s one in the morning.” He’s desperate now, breaths coming quick and shallow. 

His vision blurs. Is this what it feels like when you die? 

“Please, baby. I don’t care if you’re still mad at me, you can be mad at me for the rest of your life but I need you to be safe.” The thought of anything happening to you because of his stupid anger had Max swaying beneath the lights of the living room. 

“Please.” 

He begs. 

“I’m sorry.” 

He sobs. 

Click.  

You’re pregnant 

“Liefje. My Wife. Love of my life. I am concerned.” Max sounds slightly scared to be making this phone call. 

“These requests…” He squints at the handwritten list you left for him on the back of an envelope. “Grape jam, not jelly? Pickles? Pistacio ice cream with chocolate ribbons?” 

This list had to be a joke. 

“Are you filming me? Is this going on TikTok?”  He glances around at the store, half expecting to see you hiding in a corner with your phone out. 

What the fuck was a ‘chocolate ribbon’ anyway? 

“Pebble ice? Baby, should we call your doctor in the morning?” 

He knew he was asking for trouble, calling into question the validity of your pregnancy cravings but Max was getting concerned. He’d even called his sister on the way to the store. Victoria had insisted it was normal. 

Max wasn’t convinced. 

“I love you, you are the love of my life and I’d do anything for you, you know that. I just don’t know if I can purchase pickles and ice cream knowing that they’re going to be consumed together.” 

An image of what your pan you might choose to swing at his head if he came back without everything on your list flashes through his mind. 

Max pulled every jar of grape jam off the shelf. 

“I’ll be home in 10.” 

Click. 

You’re in labor 

“Your sister called!” Max’s voice is panicked, out of breath. “She said you’re in labor but didn’t want to bother me in my meeting!” 

“Your contractions are 5 minutes apart and you didn’t think you should call me for that?” The anxiety in his voice creeps in, despite him desperately choking on his tone. 

“Thank God I’m close by but liefje, please!” He heaves a sigh. 

A car door slams. Engine fires up, purring to life.

“You know you can bother me about this.” 

“Oh my God.” A pause. Like the gravity of the situation just hit him square in the jaw. 

“You’re in labor. Like labor labor.” He’s awestruck now.

“We’re going to be parents soon, aren’t we? Are we ready? I mean, I know you’re ready but am I ready?” There isn’t a doubt in his mind that you’re going to be an amazing mom. He’s known that since the day you found out you were pregnant.  

“Holy shit I’m going to be a dad. This is…this is fast.” You’d later tease him that he’d known about this moment for almost nine months now. It wasn’t exactly a surprise.

“Jesus. Okay.” 

Deep breath. 

“I’m just leaving the office and I’m on the way to the hospital now. Are you okay? Why am I asking your voicemail this? Why aren’y you picking up?” 

He’s totally panicking.

“I’ll be there soon. I love you.” 

Click. 

Your Toddler Steals His Phone. 

“MAMAAAAAAA!!” A small toddler-like squeal follows your favorite name you’ve ever been called. 

“Mama I miss you! Where’d you go, Mama?” The question is stilted, the baby still learning how to move his mouth around the proper words. 

“Schatje! Where is my phone?” The question is muffled, like Max is far away. 

Tiny footsteps clatter against the hardwood floor of your Monaco home. 

Peals of giggles and breathless gasps are the only thing you hear in response. 

“Mama save me! Save me from Daddy!” Your little boy giggles, squealing in delight. 

Louder footsteps sound behind your baby, who is surprisingly fast despite his stubby little legs. “You get back here right now!” Max orders, but there’s laughter at the edge of his voice.

This is a game. 

A game neither Max or your baby want to lose. 

“Daddy says he’s going to tickle me if he catches me!” 

Another squeal. 

Giggles. 

One voice high pitched. One lower pitched, your husband finally catching up to the speedy toddler. 

“Give me that. Who are you…oh you managed to call your Mama?” 

A pause. Your toddler nods. “Didn’t want a bath! Mama will rescue me!” 

Max chuckles, prying little fingers off of his phone. “She will not. She’ll say you’re stinky too! You need a bath!” 

“Noooo!” He howls but it’s too late. 

“Sorry, liefje. He’s fine. Bath time is going well! Enjoy your time with your sister! Love you.” 

A pause. 

“Tell Mama you love her.” 

“Save me Mamaaaaaaaa!” 

Click. 

[yuzujjn]

GIVE YOU THE WORLD 𖥔 성훈

𝒂𝒄𝒕𝑜𝑛𝑒𓈒 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝖻𝗂𝖽𝖽𝖾𝗇 𝗋𝗈𝗆𝖺𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖻𝗈𝖽𝗒𝗀𝗎𝖺𝗋𝖽

❪ 𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐒 ❫ 𝑙’ bodyguard!sunghoon & princess fem!rea 8OO fluff contemporary romance forbidden relationship 𓂃 skinship kissing ˊᯅˋ click

다니 ⦂⠀for my @jiwuu 💌 i finally posted an individual fic after like 2 months TT && thank you so much for 400 followers on this account

THE ROYAL DINNER IS SUFFOCATING

you sit stiffly at the long polished table, nodding along to your parents' endless talk about alliances, responsibilities, the long, boring future they're so desperate to plan for you.

"you'll be meeting several young men next week," your mother says crisply, dabbing her mouth with a napkin.

"dukes. a few foreign princes. you'll need to make an effort, darling," your father adds.

you stare at your half-finished plate, your jaw locked. an effort. right. you don't want any of them.

you want the boy who's been standing outside this stupid palace for the past hour, waiting for you like he always does.

"i need some air," you say suddenly, pushing your chair back.

your mother's brow twitches. "don't be dramatic."

"i'm not," you say sweetly. "i'm being considerate. before i ruin dinner." your mother's mouth tightens into a line. your father frowns. but after a tense second, he waves his hand.

you slip away from the table, heels clicking sharply on the marble as you move faster. you push open the heavy doors and step into the cool night — and there he is.

sunghoon.

leaning casually against the sleek black car, arms crossed, head tilted just slightly. his black suit is sharp, his tie loose enough to make him look both deadly and devastatingly handsome.

he straightens the second he sees you, a grin tugging at his mouth.

"you look thrilled," he calls lightly.

you roll your eyes as you walk toward him, letting out a long breath. "i'm about two seconds from throwing myself into the fountain."

he laughs under his breath, rounding the car and climbing in after you. the door clicks shut. the world outside fades away.

"where to, m princess?" he teases, starting the engine.

"anywhere but here," you say, kicking off your heels and pulling your knees up onto the seat.

he pulls out of the palace grounds easily, one hand on the wheel, the other intertwined with your fingers.

"you clean up nice, by the way," you say after a beat, pretending to inspect his profile.

he raises an eyebrow, flashing you a sideways look. "nice?"

"yeah. like, seven out of ten." you lean back, smirking. "room for improvement."

he scoffs, "this is the thanks i get? i sit in a car for three hours and you rate me a seven?"

you laugh, tipping your head against the window. "fine. eight. if you buy me coffee."

he shakes his head, muttering, "high maintenance," but you catch the way his mouth curves up anyway.

"so," he continues, finally parking at an empty parking lot, "besides escaping political matchmaking, how else can i make your night better?"

you blink at him, heart skipping. the way he’s looking at you — like he knows exactly what he's doing to you — makes your stomach flip.

you lean closer, tilting your head slightly. "kiss me." his eyebrows shoot up, and for a second he looks genuinely caught off guard.

"what, no please?" he says.

"kiss me, please," you say, rolling your eyes, but your voice comes out soft. maybe a little desperate. he chuckles, before reaching out and tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

"you’re really bad at being patient," he says.

"and you're really bad at following orders," you shoot back, smiling.

"lucky for you, i’m off-duty right now," he murmurs.

and then he leans in, kissing you slowly, like he’s got all the time in the world and none of it matters except for this.

your fingers hook onto his tie, tugging him closer until you're almost half in his lap, giggling against his mouth. he kisses you harder in response, one hand sliding along your jaw, thumb brushing your cheek.

when you finally pull apart, you're both a little breathless, smiling like idiots.

he taps your nose with his finger, playful. "still think i'm an eight?"

you grin. "solid nine. pending if you could kiss me again,."

he laughs, tipping his head back against the seat.

"god, you're trouble," he says, but he sounds absolutely in love with it.

you grin wider, already buckling your seatbelt again. "drive, bodyguard. my standards just went up."

[seamany]

The post that solved it all for me PART 1

NOT MY POST, THIS IS MOBILEBLACKSMITH2535 VIA REDDIT

(It might sound like I'm yelling at you in this paragraph but these are just things I wish someone told me like years ago) Here is where I talk about everything law of assumption that helped me ACTUALLY become a master manifestor. The law of assumption, as I see it, is the law of being. You cannot experience what you are not being. Coming from a person that used to cry myself to sleep every night feeling frustrated, hopeless, and extremely tired of putting all this effort into something and getting absolutely nothing back, this shit is real. Please do not take this post with a grain of salt. Please do not toss my story in with the probably hundreds of other "I have shifted" threads/videos you have witnessed. If you want to shift listen to every word that I say. I can't explain why we have this power I just know that from November of 2020 to July of 2023 I have been working my ass of to get somewhere, anywhere. In between those 3 years I had an on and off behavior towards shifting. I used to force myself to forget about shifting for a few weeks because it hurt too much to think about it. I felt like I won the lottery and I couldn't cash in the money. It was awful and I wouldn't wish that feeling of hopelessness on any other conscious being. Sometimes I would watch shifting tik tok compilation videos on YouTube and get a surge of motivation that would soon die out along with any semblance of dignity and self-esteem I had left. I'm telling you not asking you to see me as a real completely sane person because that is exactly what I am. Even though I'm creative and spiritual (not religious, spiritual), I can't help but see things logically. It's just my nature. I like patterns, formulas, structured systems, explanations, science, etc. I knew the probability of hundreds upon thousands of people describing in detail their experience of shifting couldn't be a phenomenon but a real...thing. I, for some reason, never doubted the possibility of shifting, more my capability to do it. Along my journey I've had my moments of distrust surrounding shifting in itself, and as I rounded onto the 3rd year of attempts I had increasing feelings of dread and anger. I was angry at the world that I live in, feeling dreadful that I couldn't escape it all. Then on one fateful fateful day, specifically July 31rst 2023 at about 8:30 am, I shifted. It was easy and it was effortless. Just as everyone says, but that's not something I'd like to focus on in today's post. I'm not making this post to tell you how simple shifting is or to "let go" (whatever the fuck that means) or to change your mindset. Those things are all useless compared to the thing that just clicked for me on July 31rst 2023 at about 8:30 am. What I am going to tell you is going to be so stupidly straightforward that your mind isn't going to want to believe me at first. You are going to try to make it more complicated than it is, just like you probably did with shifting when you first learned about it. But assure you that you should take what I am about to say at face-value. You don't need to let go, you don't need to change anything about yourself, you don't need to "release blockages", you don't need to reprogram your subconscious mind. You are done. You have your desire already. You are finished and there is nothing left for you to do.

LOOK AT MY PAGE FOR PART TWO