#gender neutral reaader

[yourheart-inmyhands]

need me some kaveh content please... him with an s/o that's clumsy and gets hurt a lot! totally not talking about myself haha... that would be ridiculous...

don't worry, i'm equally as clumsy hehe, i get home from anything and have at least 5 new brusies :3c

Warning: this post contains yandere-themes, including being held against will, being locked in a room, being treated in a child-like manner, and other potential topics. Please read at your own risk!

Yandere!Kaveh with a clumsy darling would be both good and bad! He’d be worried sick about you getting hurt, covering all sharp corners with some soft material, he makes sure all dangerous things like knives are locked up while he’s out of the house, he cuts up all your food into small bites so you don’t choke. It may feel like he’s treating you like a child, and while he sort of is, it isn’t intentional. He just doesn’t want to see you get hurt, you mean so much to him, he would do anything to keep you safe. If you do get hurt he’s immediately mother-hening you. He’s got you sat down while he fuses over whatever part of you got hurt, he over bandages it and insists you sit and take it easy for a while regardless of how big or small the injury may be. When he leaves for work, he makes sure you’re locked in your room for the day with some water and prepared snacks and food for you so that you don’t get hurt while he’s not there. When he’s home though, if you’ve been good, he allows you access into the rest of the house. And yes, he does finally do some hard work and buy his own place once he becomes obsessed with you.

[starry-snippets]

Captivate you. (band au! aot)

chapter 1 of the aot band au! also on ao3 if you want to read it there! I include song links here on tumblr but not on ao3. I think it's more immersive w this format... but that's just me!

chapter tws include floch being an asshole, implied/speculated toxic relationship, provocative music, suggestive/adult themes, one line about connie's junk

Chapter 1: Cruel Summer

The music in his car is always so loud. Typically you don’t mind but you’re already feeling a tension headache developing between your temples. As if stretching a rubber band in your brain isn’t painful enough, Floch decides to snap it against your head as he yells, “Babe, get out! We’re here.” At least the Britney Spears song, I’m a Slave 4 U, stops playing. Not that you don’t like Britney. You just don’t like Britney when she’s blasting at full volume in your boyfriend kia stinger.

As you step away from the red car, paint chips peeling off the car door, you have to race to catch up with Floch. His music is playing so loudly you can hear it even though his earbuds are snug in his ear. Now he’s listening to Ride by Sir Mix-A-Lot. Of course he is. He’s bobbing his head offbeat as you reach out to grab his sleeve. You don’t know why you’re so scared to get his attention. You’ve been dating for five months now and it’s felt pretty great until recently.

“Hey, slow down. I don’t know where we’re heading.” You manage to tell him, gently snagging his baggy sweatshirt sleeve and also successfully pissing him off based on the scowl he wears.

“What the hell? Why are you so damn slow? Just walk, babe.” Floch responds before yanking his arm away. He then walks faster as if to spite you. As if he wants to lose sight of you. You shake that thought from your head, physically due to the persistent panic now running through you, as you run to catch up with him. Glancing back with a simper, Floch grins further when he sees you run after him. Is he doing this to make himself feel better? Surely not…

Those anxiety riddled worries dissipate as you enter a retail store inside the mall. Thankfully, the lights are dim. Not all too luminous, more closely resembling a club with twinkling stars hanging from the ceiling adding enough light to see but not grow ill from the fluorescent lights like they have in universities and offices. It’s a creative lighting fixture and honestly you can get behind it. While you appreciate the gentle luminosity of the store you’re pulling by Floch, his hand wrapping around your wrist possessively. As we fully enter the establishment, music filling my ears and it not being Floch’s, I realize it doesn’t match the quaint, elegant atmosphere established.

Hi, I’m a Slut is playing on the intercoms. Grandmas looking at shawls with their husbands furrow their brows with disgust, mothers cover the ears of their young adult children as if they haven’t heard that word before while their husbands crack up at the licentious lyrics. Amidst the disappointment and disgust, one boy with tanned skin and an overgrown buzz cut is grinning. He’s even chuckling; his hand covering his mouth as he elbows a brunette besides him. The retail employee laughs so hard he leans forward against the counter, the girl beside him with her dark brown ponytail swaying back and forth as she wobbles with her guffaws too, and cackles like a hyena at the harmless prank he’s pulled. The girl besides him smacks his back, prompting him to begin coughing and sputtering and laughing in between his asphyxiation.

It seems like it’d be fun to work here. Of course Floch disagrees, somehow knowing exactly what you’re thinking to ruin your minute joy. “Fucking morons. Let’s go buy something hot and sexy for you to wear to this concert, babe.” His hand tightens around your wrist as he pulls you to the section with more provocative - not exactly lingerie - garments. Dresses with large slits at the hips, shirts with keyholes to expose cleavage, skirts so short it’s amazing they aren’t accused of being belts. Not exactly what you typically… not what you’ve ever worn. “Damn babe, this would look so good on you.”

Floch groans as he says the words, making you bite back bile, while holding up a hanger. Draped on the hanger is a sweater with a massive keyhole in the front to expose your chest down the length of your sternum. What the fuck?

“I don’t know about that.” You tell him with a small chuckle as if it’ll lessen whatever response he’ll have to you indirectly saying no. He hasn’t always been this way… at least, you don’t think he’s been this way your whole relationship.

“Well, I know.” Floch interjects, grinning. His expression is so coy and sly. So often he is smug and presenting himself with delusional confidence. “So let’s try it on, baby.” Before you can protest, or maybe even change your mind and agree to please this asshole, you’re led to the changing rooms. Suddenly it feels like all eyes are on you when Floch snides, “can’t wait to see some skin,” before pushing you inside the confines of the stall.

Twisting the knob to leave and talk to him like a civil person, you discover you can’t open the door. From the outside Floch is tapping his foot, one hand texting on his phone with a grin, while his other hand is holding the doorknob on the other side so you can’t open it. Superman by Eminem is now playing after the prolonged silence (besides those two people at the register dying of laughter) following the more provocative track that greeted you and your boyfriend.

It’s ironic, you guess.

Taking a look at the sweater, you can’t help but sigh. The fabric is heavy and hot and haughty. Pretentious but poorly made. Strands jut out from the stitch and it’s clear some poor, underpaid individual likely made this and then this store added a crazy markup. With a cheek of the tag you confirm your intuition when you see it’s marked for $179. As the sale price. Hell no.

“Floch, baby, c’mon let me out,” Chuckling awkwardly, you jostle the knob to indicate you’re serious. “This thing is itchy and expensive. Let’s get something better. It’s also crazy hot right now, so I don’t want to wear a sweater.” You explain, hoping that he’ll be compassionate and understand that.

Silence.

It’s jarring whenever he’s silent. Not just lately but actually… the entire time you’ve dated him. He likes to talk. He loves to blabber and ramble and narrate. Whenever he’s radio silent on you it means you’ve pissed him off. It means you’re in the wrong… maybe it doesn’t. He’s locked you in a dressing room and now you want to apologize? He should say sorry this is psycho behavior!

“Baby?” Repeating it once more, the pet name coming from your lips like first nature despite your frustration growing with him.

Silence.

“Floch!” You can’t help but shout. It’s fucking stressful to be in a tiny stall that smells like feet holding an itchy sweater that costs way too much for its quality level. “This isn’t funny!” Despite your best efforts your voice grows shaky and it causes your volume to rise.

You recognize the song playing. Or perhaps you’re just tuned back in on the stereo outside the door. Cruel Summer by Taylor Swift.

Thump!

He fucking kicked the door of the dressing room. Instinctively you back away and your back hits the wall behind you. The music in the background is just white noise, insignificant and mildly irritating as you freak the fuck out, as you stare in shock at the door as if your hurt expression transfers through the wood.

She’s damn right. Here you are, your last month of summer break from college, being fucking trapped in a dressing room by the man you introduce as your lover. Perhaps that’ll be the next song playing while this nightmare persists.

“Let me out, Floch! You’re acting crazy!” At your words Floch bangs the door once more, making the frame jump with you and the wood splinter. “What’s making you do this?” You ask shakily as your anxieties, your fears, are heightened by the fact you can’t see him.

“Make me, little bitch.” Floch's voice rings out and you can hear his smug expression.

Before Floch can respond like a kind, polite, and lovely boyfriend would - or how a cruel, unkind, and crude boyfriend would - there’s another voice outside the door. The voice isn’t very deep but it isn’t high either. Perhaps it’s a tenor? The inflection of the speaker implies he has an accent from not around here. His voice sounds confrontational. Or maybe Floch’s bitterness is corrupting this stranger.

“What the fuck are you doing?” The new voice asks presumably Floch, his voice deepening when he swears. “We have a rule against fucking locking people in closets. Formed right now cause no one has done this weird shit before.” Continuing, the voice then comes closer. You’re beginning to place it. The bravado matches those jovial but obnoxiously loud laughs heard from the retail worker with the fuzzy buzz cut. “Step away from the door.” He warns, pitching his voice lower as if to sound scarier.

It’s also odd he locked you in a fucking dressing room. So you’re allowed to push your fists in the air in victory, like you’re the one who punched him, when you hear his loud footsteps while stumbling.

Until you hear his nose fucking break.

It sounds like a can of soda being popped open; maybe a firecracker blowing or those little pop-its that can burn you or - holy hell he punched Floch! You’re giddy. Giddy in the way you’d cheer when your favorite sports team wins against all odds. Odd how you’re celebrating an injury to the man you love.

The door is easily opened from a small twist of the wrist while holding the doorknob. Kitty Kat by Megan Thee Stallion is beginning to play after a lot of radio classics.

Know what’s also beautiful? Stepping over him. As you do so, Floch grabs your ankle. He mumbles something unkind that you can’t fully hear but you ignore him. Nothing beginning with ‘you treacherous-’ will be worth hearing from him.

Perhaps it’s fitting? The energy certainly is as you step out. Once you’re free, holding that ugly, inadequate sweater, you’re greeted with the retail worker standing over Floch while blood gushes down his face like a waterfall.

It’s a beautiful sight.

Now standing beside the retail worker, his friend watching from the register with an enthused grin, you can see the name on his tag. ‘Connie S.’

Connie? There’s a Connie in the band you love. He typically wears a hood so you’ve never seen his haircut - not even online. With angular black eyeliner and ash smeared across his scrawny but sculpted chest as he plays the drums with his entire being. He’s feral; fucking insane. The way he breaks his drumsticks every performance and they sell online for more money than splintered wood could ever be worth. His energy is absolutely contagious but you wouldn’t mind catching it. At least a little.

When he pulls back his outer layer you can confirm it’s Connie Springer. The Connie Springer who tears up stages across the United States, eliciting enthusiasm across all metalheads, embodying earnest appreciation for the poetic, powerful expression it is to bangs wood against… wood. You digress. His tattoo is a complete sleeve on his right arm, the hand he always wears a glove on when he’s playing at a concert from the clips you’ve seen. Full of black ink with pops of indigo and scarlet, the shades popping brilliantly against his sienna skin, his tattoo is the embodiment of his characteristic chaotic energy he carries with him during every performance. From afar it does look like random shapes and cool patterns paired together, but you’re sure there’s more to it. Tattoos are so permanent! He must of thought hard and long and deeply-

“You’re staring, hon.” Connie says with a boyish grin. It’s sweet and genuine unlike Floch’s. “You okay? The guy you’re with seems to have issues.” You nod as he speaks, dazed a little at the thought of him being Connie; the drummer for Paradis. “Did you need help finding something… or?” Sheepishly - yet slyly still - smirking, Connie sweetness and playfully and you see now, flirtatiousness, is not lost on you. “Did you need someone?” He teases, removing his uniform dress shirt that he had on outside of a tank top.

Holy shit.

“Oh you’re studying his tat.” The brunette at the cashier says from behind you resulting in a small flinch. “Didn’t mean to scare you!” She apologies with a genial chuckle. So genuine. “He only got that because his bandmates did and he wanted to prove Jean was weak for crying when he got his back tatted.”

Jean? Like Jean Kirstein from Paradis? Holy heck.

Giggling again, you realize how beautiful Sasha’s laugh is. It’s saccharine and mellifluous; it’s honey to a sore throat. “Oh, I’m Sasha by the way.” She finally says with an honest smile and a friendly pat to your shoulder.

Like a deer in headlights you stare at their interaction. Sasha, the one with a bit more sense - or perhaps just intuition - of the two, chiding Connie for being ditzy in only the way your closest friends can. She’s stylish. The effortless type of stylish. She’s in a large baggy maroon t-shirt with a camo print hoodie underneath with the black hoodie peaking up. Her brown hair is tied back with a black ribbon, a necklace loose around her neck on a thick leather strap but the gem is hidden under her shirt, and green cargo shorts that end at the knees. If anyone else was wearing something like that they’d look crazy. Sasha… makes it work. Her sunglasses have little sparkly stars on the rim; they’re rhinestones that catch the light beautifully. She’s serving cunt in camo… how does she do it? Crew socks with little pigs on them and black, hunter-green, and white sneakers complete her oddly pleasing attire.

“I’m Connie!” The boy exclaims proudly as if he didn’t hear a word.

Sasha chuckles. “Dude, where were you?” Her words prompt Connie to shrug, playful and at ease. It’s so metal he just punched a man unconscious and now he’s here jiving. Chatting as if this was any old day for him.

“The merch from our first ep,” Connie repeats once more as he realizes the weight of that. The merch they sold because they were given a discount from a buddy and dive bars were desperate for some live entertainment and haggled for 40% of their merch profits. Back when Mikasa was banging holes in the drums themselves with her own sort of stoic intensity instead of Connie splitting the branches he thumped against the percussion with his kinetic passion. You’ve been a fan since Paradis performed their first ever setlist composed of Dio covers, makeshift comedy routines from Connie when the dingy sound of the equally dank bars would give them trouble, and Jean competing with Eren because back they were fixated on only one of them writing the lyrics. The significance of the shirt you’re wearing makes him dramatically clutch his heart through his tank.

Connie on the other hand is a hot mess. Literally and figuratively. His hand runs over his buzz cut, sighing when he can’t yet run his hands through his hair seductively like everyone else in the band. No thirst edits of him including that clip… yet. His armpits aren’t shaved and whenever he lifts his toned arms you can see tufts of ashy brown hair. He has more body hair than hair on his head, maybe, if you combine his hairy legs too. Connie’s in sweatpants you realize, not exactly what you’d expect from a rock star or a retail worker on shift, and you can’t help but notice that imprint. Your eyes are torn from it, thankfully because your cheeks started to develop a cherry tint, due to Connie flexing his arm muscles when he snaps as a thought comes to him. The sound snagged your attention too… you guess.

“Your shirt man, it’s our first album!” Connie finally realizes, staring straight at your chest. You give him a pass since that’s where the bulk of the design is.

“Don’t make it weird.” Sasha jokes, elbowing Connie as he remains in his theatrics.

“No! This means everything!” The boy argues with a bashful grin on his face. He really does seem flattered. It’s cute… it’s making your lips curl into a delicate smile.

“I just… really liked the design.” You begin, fiddling with the hem of the black shirt. A lion stretches proudly, extending itself as it arches its back, in a field of gladiolus flowers awaking from a nap. They only printed these t-shirts in black. There’s a line from their song from that ep, Waking Lions, that’s written below the lion and in the gorgeous bed of sun kissed, passionately purple flowers. The line, in a gradient white and purple that’s beginning to fade off, says: I wanna stand up, a hundred feet tall ‘cause fear will never lead the way. I’m waking the lions in me.

Those two see right through you. Especially Sasha. She urges me to continue, to even ramble, with a shift in those chocolate irises. “Okay… I also really loved the songs. Especially Waking Lions! I’m so glad that’s the song you decided to model the ep’s art off of and also that you made merch!” You find yourself ramble, rattling on about what you really thought of the lyrics. How the art is so cute compared to what a metal-core band would be expected to produce. The way their first album, even if only housing three songs, was revolutionary in your eyes.

“Yeah, Jean wrote Waking Lions and he’s the one with the art degree. So Eren lost the battle on having When the Lights Come On be the star of our first ever original recording.” Connie rubs his hand over his fuzzy head, his pointy canines revealed as he smiles. “He won the war and got to be the lead vocalist though!” He adds with a chuckle like he recalled a memory. Probably how the two bickered endlessly about who that title goes to.

“Connie’s playing tonight at the Garrison if you want to come. Bet they didn’t sell out!” Sasha teases with an upbeat tone in contrast to Connie’s pretend pout. They’re a fun duo. Seeming to have energy that feeds off each other in a positive feedback loop. “You seem like a huge fan too. So,” Sasha stands besides Connie and the two glance between each other like they’re plotting, scheming. “Would you want to go with us? I’ve been looking for a new concert buddy, since Connie can’t head bang with me when he’s on stage!”

Laughing at Sasha’s comment, you nod your head almost immediately. You were going to attend with Floch, since giving you two tickets for the balcony - which is the worst spot since you’re into moshing and they’re typically more expensive - was his attempt of being nice, but he’s entirely shown his true colors. Or perhaps you finally removed your rose tinted glasses and took those pivotal steps out of your ivory tower.

“I’d love to go with you guys. My date is knocked the hell out, thanks Connie,” Sasha snorts a laugh and Connie throws up a peace sign, “so I doubt he’ll want to take me. Or even go himself.” Smiling with appreciation, you add quickly, “thank you guys so much for the invite.”

Connie slinks his arm around your shoulders while Sasha gives him and you a high-five at the same time. Nice, it’s crisp. “Yo! I can’t wait!” Connie exclaims with enthusiasm – the same enthusiasm that infects the crowd from insipid to invigorated in no time. “First, let’s get you a cool outfit for free. Cause once my boss sees I knocked his ass out I’m fired.”

“I’m getting a cool outfit too!” Sasha excitedly agrees, reassuring you naturally. “I’m always asking Constance to slip me a free dress but he never does.” Pouting when Connie yells for her to never call him that again, Sasha begins to peruse the racks of clothing surrounding you three. And I guess Floch but he’s literally down for the count.

Connie, with the cutest opportunistic grin, adds, “I’m already gonna get fired. May as well make this a concert worth remembering down to what you wore!”

Sasha begins shopping with Connie’s last paycheck as her credit card, and Connie has his arm around your shoulders in a friendly way. It’s as if you’ve known him for years. Like the three of you are best friends reunited, you find yourself agreeing with a nod of your head.

What have you gotten yourself into?

Hopefully some fun.

[animeomegas]

Since Jumin is so sophisticated & composed in his daily life you’d think he would be, atleast slightly, calm during the birth process right? Wrong

He’s shouting profanity’s while ripping to shreds/breaking whatever he’s gripping onto and has a legendary temper that has even his mate sweating

The funny part is that he returns to his normal behavior almost immediately after the baby is born, and if his mate doesn’t video tape it, he’ll swear that “he was never that mad” and that “your exaggerating” and everyone who wasn’t in his labor room will believe it 😤

Oh, this would certainly be a sight to see!

Jumin gives birth at home with a whole team of highly trained medical staff and a room full of medical equipment. There's even a helicopter ready to go just in case something goes wrong and Jumin need surgery (pretty much the only thing the doctors can't do at Jumin's home.)

And at first, everything seems to be going just fine. Jumin is breathing deeply through the first set of contractions, handling everything exactly as you expected he would.

But the contractions start getting closer together and more painful, and Jumin starts snapping at the doctors and at you. You didn't put enough ice in the water you fetched him? He's snarky about it. The doctors asking him what he thinks are irrelevant questions? He's snappy about it. And you start to think that maybe he's not handling this as well as you thought he'd handle it.

When the swears start to slip out, you know he's starting to crack. He tells you to 'book a fucking appointment for him to get sterilised because he's not doing this again.' He gets angry if you don't immediately arrange the appointment or delegate it to someone else.

Jumin properly shouts when he's pushing. He also shouts about how someone should have warned him and how none of the books he read made it sound this bad. He shouts about how he knew he should have hired a surrogate, despite the fact that he was very against using a surrogate when you asked him.

It bubbles up and up and he almost breaks his alpha's hand with how hard he's gripping it and he's thrown things off of his bedside in frustration multiple times.

You're shocked by his behaviour, but now that you think about it... Jumin has never been through anything really painful before. He's never even broken a bone before. He has guards and a team of doctors who check him regularly. Of course he wouldn't be able to handle this much pain after so many years living like that.

But the second the pup is out and Jumin falls asleep, exhausted, and he wakes up from his nap perfectly normal. He's back to the way he always is and you're just baffled.

You try to poke fun at him a little for the way he behaved, but it seems Jumin's brain fully deleted all the painful memories, and he genuinely doesn't believe that any of what you're saying happened in the way you said it. He remembers knocking something off his bedside table sure, but he certainly didn't throw anything. And he asked very politely for you to book an appointment for him, you must have let the stress go to your head.

It's very frustrating. And to add to the frustration, no one believes you!!!

..

"That certainly doesn't sound like Mr. Han," Jaehee says in a voice that makes it clear she doesn't believe you. "It... must have been quite the experience."

"Wait Jumin did that?" Yoosung asks, shocked. "Are you sure? I mean... not that I'm calling you a liar or anything! It's just he's Jumin, you know! I'm sorry!"

"Mr. Trust fund?" Zen snorts. "Yeah, right, I bet he was sipping that ridiculous non-alcoholic wine the whole time out of some fancy glass."

..

It's very frustrating. You knew you should have recorded it, but Jumin would have probably tried to divorce you on the spot, the mood he was in... Oh well.

[sneakytimeyanderecontent]

If You Think I’m Joking... (Yandere Itsuka Kendou x Reader Headcanons)

-She’s the type of person who leads her class generally, acting almost like a parent- catching you and your fellow classmates during whatever stupid shenanigans you get up to.

-For a while, she would just punch you with a groan, putting a stop to whatever you were doing with ease.

-This eventually morphed into something a little bit more though, as she began to get more and more worried about your safety.

-This all kind of came to a head when you, quite stupidly, managed to break your ankle. That was the wrong choice on your end, very, very bad decision.

-You were laying on the ground in pain when you felt her hand just pick you up off the ground. You looked towards her, trying to smile or do anything to show that this wasn’t a big deal.

-She was not having it, as her thumb covered your face, and she just carried you along.

-Yeah, you weren’t going anywhere without her ever again. She was now around you 24/7.

-Sure, you were allowed to do your normal school stuff, but the device she implanted in you after taking you home... well... if you got too loose lipped, you wouldn’t be talking for a while.

-Whenever you came home, it would be straight to bed, where you’d get carefully bound to the bed. She wanted to be friendly and parent-like to you, but sometimes you made it so hard for her sometimes... but no matter what, she would always try to give you hugs and kisses, whispering quietly in your ear about how much she needs you to just give in to her...

[sunflowerdaisybee]

Could you do headcanons about c!philza reacting to a son reader growing wings?(like when Phil first adopted him he assumed reader was a normal human, but later when reader is like 13-14 he has bumps growing on his back, and Phil realizes he’s growing wings)

Almost every time someone asks for hc I somehow miss that and don’t realize to I look back at the request, thankfully I realized early on and didn’t spend a bunch of time writing the wrong request :] enjoy! /g /pos

Summary: You were supposed to be human, so why do you have wings?

Pairing: P!Philza X Reader (you’re his kid)

Pronouns: they/them

[A/n]: request are open, check out the 1000 follower special <3

When Phil brought you home, a dirty and underfed child, it was obvious that he had intended to keep you.

There wasn’t anything out of the ordinary about you though, you were a simple human, a nice change of pace from the other children who Phil has cared for.

Techno wasn’t so sure about keeping you around, despite his best friend, Phil, being well known for taking in random kids, Techno was sure that after Tommy he was done. When Phil told him he was adamant about keeping you, and that you’d be no trouble because you’re human, that’s what he was fully expecting.

So when you start having back pains and have bumps forming on your back, Phil is at first worried. He feared you may have some type of disease or a weird growth, believe it or not, he was fearful of losing you.

With Techno’s help they were able to rule out any type of disease, infection, or anything bad. Though that only left them with more

Taglist: @joyfullymulti @minty-ghast @rokkyy @duddum-froppers @sortzz @eatensouls-s @vaxiwastaken

[struggling-with-time]

hi yes hello, been thinking about a makeout session with sapnap 🥴

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Masterlist: Sapnap's Masterlist - Full Masterlist A/N: Alright another one to go, this one is a bit steamy tho (Also requests are still open! Click here!)

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

The door is barely closed behind you, before Sapnap is right on you once again. As the two of you stumble around the apartment. Bumping into furniture and other stuff as you try to make your way into your shared bedroom.

But the door is closed, leading to Sapnap backing you up against the door. His lips on yours. Your hands in his hair, as he has one hand on your waist, feeling you up and down.

His touch setting you on fire.

His other hand giving up searching for the doorknob instead now exploring your body as well.

His hands are everywhere at the same time.

Your hips, your shoulders, your hair.

Sapnap starts peppering kisses from your mouth and down your neck as you tuck his hair a bit when he reaches your shoulder.

His lips are once again back on yours. As one hand magically finds the doorknob. He pushes you up against the door as it opens, making you stumble backwards landing on the bed, while Sapnap is still standing.

He takes use of the opportunity discarding his shirt in the process, before his attention his back on you, as you sit up. His hands, his fingers are quick to find the hem of your own shirt.

Then you two are right back at it. Lips against lips, only breaking for air, before going right back at it. Hands everywhere, exploring everything they can reach.

You watch with hungry eyes, as Sapnap once again starts trailing kissing down your neck. He lightly pushes you back, making you lay down against the mattress.

He keeps going, and you keep watching, as he moves from your neck, to your shoulders, to your chest. All the way down to your stomach. Until he finally breaks his trail, although still maintaining eye contact with you.

“God, I love you.”

And then he’s right back at your lips.

Needless to say, neither of you slept that night.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

[remember-to-be-gentle]

Subject: BNHA, Tamaki Amijiki Title: Feeding (gender neutral reader) Trigger Warning: Force-feeding, kidnap mention

You struggled against the restraints around your wrists, keeping your back bound to the chair your legs were also tied to. "Please, no more." This wasn't the first time you'd had to beg Tamaki to stop, he just didn't seem to understand the word despite his usually gentle and anxious nature.

After he'd kidnapped you, he'd done his best to respect your boundaries and keep you as physically healthy as possible. Except for one thing. Meals. You dreaded them, fearing the sound of your stomach growling and the smell of cooking food from the kitchen.

Because of his quirk, Tamaki had a tendency to overfeed and stuff you. At first, it had been a push for a second plate of dinner, and now he bound you to the chair until you'd finished at least five. Maybe he liked watching you eat; his pupils grew wide every time he watched the fork enter your mouth or maybe it was the lovesick smile he gave to your distended stomach.

Tamaki muttered something to himself, gathering another forkful of food. He got like this, too. Muttering quietly to himself, cheeks red. Conversation was rare when he fed you. "Ah," he said. He wanted you to open your mouth.

Your stomach hurt, overfull and far too heavy to breathe with. "Tamaki, stop it."

He didn't seem to hear. His other hand forced your mouth open and in went the next forkful of food. Your sense of taste had stopped functioning after the second plate. "It tastes good, doesn't it?" Tamaki touched your stomach, gently rubbing his hand over it. It felt good against your taut skin, but you couldn't take anymore. "Chew properly. You need to eat it all."

A tear escaped from your eye. You tried to wipe it away, but Tamaki's tongue licked it away -- burning hot on your skin. "No more," you begged, your cheeks still stuffed.

"Just one more," he muttered, his voice a husky whisper on your skin. "Just two more..."

He gathered another forkful, "Ah."

You shook your head. He simply forced your mouth open and made you eat.

Tamaki pulled your chair from the table, slowly straddling you until his chest was against yours, stomach to yours. He wrapped his arms around you shoulders, burying his head in the crook of your neck. "I just want to take care of you." His fingers made small circles on your back. You felt sick, a mewl of protest escaping your throat. "I'm so happy you're mine. We're going to be together forever -- just the two of us."

Your stomach rumbled a protest.

Tamaki leaned back, a heated blush across his pale cheeks, accenting the black wells of his dilated pupils. "Are you hungry already? Time for dessert, then."

[genderneutralmc]

🖤 Diavolo Masterlist (WIP)

Just Him Him + Others

Really shy MC

x Theatre-Nerd!Male!MC

x Tall!Dominant!Male!MC (PART 2)

x Mermaid!MC

Mc doesn’t cuddle

[struggling-with-time]

Goodnight Kisses [Sapnap x reader]

Paring: Sapnap x Gender neutral!reader

Summary: You're getting ready to bed, and Sapnap wants attention

Warnings: Fluff, cutesy

Words: 0.5K

Masterlist: Sapnap Masterlist - Full Masterlist

A/N: I know, I know, this was supposed to be posted yesterday. REQUESTS ARE OPEN. Request here.

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You listen to the water running and the occasional humming coming from the shower. More specifically your boyfriend Sapnap humming. You can’t help but smile at the domestic feeling of it all. The day had been nothing more than normal in your opinion.

Sapnap had streamed earlier, leaving him in a good mood, and you had just woken up in a generally good mood. Sapnap had even made dinner for the two of you, and you had chosen the movie to watch as the two of you had curled up on the couch earlier.

Leading to the two of you getting ready for bed together, Sapnap wanted a shower before.

While you are in the middle of doing your skincare routine. It is nice.

You can hear the shower turn off, and a couple of seconds later you can hear the shower door open. You absentmindedly hand him the towel he is searching for. Not even looking his way.

Much to his dismay, but you don’t see that.

You finish up washing up, not having heard Sapnap get up right behind you.

You jump as he puts his arms around you, leaning into you. You can feel his wet hair as he nuzzles his face and hair into your neck. Peppering kisses all over your neck, nearly reaching your face. Before you push him away giggling at the action.

He whines.

“Sap, give me 5 minutes, I just got done, you know it has to settle.”

He whines again, making you turn around. Letting you face your overgrown puppy of a boyfriend. You softly laugh at him, before giving his nose a boop. And then you take off, leaving him stranded and alone in your bathroom.

You can hear him whine once again, but you know he’s also taking his sweet time drying his hair and cleaning up after you. Because you took off.

By the time he joins you in your bedroom, you are already in bed, making grabby hands at him when he comes through the door. And he more than happily obliges the request.

Falling right over you.

A hand stopping him on each side of your face. Having trapped you now underneath him, as the two of you are just looking each other deeply in the eyes. Both having an absolute lovesick look in your eyes. Time seems to slow, letting it just be the two of you against the world.

Before Sapnap breaks the moment, by breaking into a grin, and attacking you with kisses all over your face. Letting you giggle and squirm underneath him.

While a lot of people say that the honeymoon phase has a time limit. The two of you haven’t hit it yet, and both of you are hoping you have a while to go.

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