#he did laundry and vacuuming

[bibleofficial]

after basking in the glow of my pettiness - writing on the mirror ‘would an adult leave their nail clippings on the shared vanity’ 4 my brother - karma got me, bc i accidentally knocked a fucking cactus onto my bed

[rubiesintherough]

.

[problemsynth]

Ok 3/4 things on my to do list are done... and the fourth I can't do bc I haven't gotten the eeeemail

[deicide-doll]

my mom is a fucking monster and i hate her so much

[justanotherhomelessromantic]

despite my father's best efforts, the house is clean. 😌

[jwonsite]

“just sit on my lap, it’ll be fine” - lee heeseung

part 1 of e(nnn)- (a nnn series)

pairing: dom!heeseung x sub!fem!reader

warnings: p in v, cockwarming, oral (f receiving), hickeys, grinding, exhibitionism (? the boys hear them over the mic😭), unprotected sex (wrap before u tap!!), lmk if there’s anymore!

synopsis: your video game obsessed boyfriend is determined to win a bet made with his friends for a new gaming console, all while depriving you of sex for an entire month. luckily for you, your boyfriend lacks any amount of self control

masterlist! | next!

“i’m sorry, you what?”

“it’s only a month, babe, come on you can’t last that long without sex?”

“it’s not that i can’t, it’s that i don’t want to!”

you sighed and crossed your arms as your boyfriend walked over to you, hands moving to your waist

“i mean, just because i can’t cum doesn’t mean you can’t” he says with a smirk, leaning his head down to kiss your neck

you giggled at his actions, but stopped him before he got too far. you know your boyfriend, once he starts, he won’t be able to stop. he lifts his head up from your neck and you wrap your arms around his neck

“lee heeseung, you owe me the best fuck of my life on december 1st. i hope you know that” you say, pointing your finger accusingly into his chest

“yes ma’am” he says, putting his hand to his forehead to salute you

you laughed as you moved out of his embrace, walking to the bathroom to go take a shower

“but just know,” you say teasingly over your shoulder, “i’m gonna make this the hardest month of your life,” you finish off, peeking your head out of the almost closed bathroom door, sending him a wink before you shut it

__________________________________________

a week has passed since your boyfriend agreed to this bet, and so far he was going strong. even through all of your teasing he managed to control his urges, distracting himself with dance practice or video games. but today, you were really testing him…

his eyes couldn’t help but wander as you reached up to grab something from the top shelf, your (his) shirt rising to show your ass peeking out from the pink underwear you wore as you stood on your tip toes, still trying to get the object you wanted

feeling his gaze on you, you smiled to yourself as you got exactly the reaction you set out for, but you wanted to test him a little more

“baby, i can’t reach that cup on the top shelf, can you get it for me?” you said as you turned to face him, catching him blatantly staring at your ass. he had no shame, meeting your eyes with a smile. as he got up, you didn’t move out of the way, instead staying right in front of the cabinet you needed him to retrieve the item from

he walked up behind you, putting a hand on your hip and making sure to press his hips right against your ass, as he reached with the other hand to grab the cup you asked him for

“here you go princess,” he whispers into your ear, placing the cup on the counter in front of you. he places a quick kiss on your temple before walking to your shared room, you assumed to go play video games with his friends

fuck

how did that affect you more than him? now you’re horny and in desperate need for your boyfriend’s dick, while still having 3 weeks left of his stupid bet

taking a deep breath in, you try to distract yourself, continuing with mundane tasks around the house

laundry, dishes, vacuum, mop, dust, cook… the list goes on as you continued to busy yourself with chores around your apartment, determined to not let your urges win. your boyfriend needed to win, he wanted that gaming console so bad. plus, you too, had to prove to him that you can last a month without sex

after finishing up almost every chore that could be done in the small apartment, you went into your bedroom, finding your boyfriend doing exactly what you thought he was doing, playing video games

you rolled your eyes playfully, smiling to yourself as you walked over to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, and then continued to go lay down in your bed

you busied yourself on your phone, scrolling on tiktok while patiently waiting for your boyfriend to finish up whatever game it is he’s playing tonight. you were used to waiting, as he played these games pretty often. you didn’t mind it, you knew he was busy and this was one of the only times where he truly had time to himself, so you never bothered him, letting him play for as long as his heart desires

after about a half an hour, your boyfriend turns his chair around to look at you

you peek up from your phone, looking at him with a smile while he stares at you with such love in his eyes

“miss you baby” he says, pouting a little bit

“i miss you too pretty boy, wanna come cuddle?” you ask, putting your phone down on the bed to turn your full attention to your needy boyfriend

he shakes his head, instead opening his arms and gesturing for you to come sit on his lap

“what about your little bet with jay and them?” you ask, raising an eyebrow at his actions

“are you suggesting i have no self control and can’t have you sit in my lap without getting horny?” he shoots back, crossing his arms

“uh yeah that’s exactly what i’m saying” you answer completely serious

he rolls his eyes at you before uncrossing his arms from his chest

“babyyyy, just sit on my lap, it’ll be fine” he whines, reaching one of his arms out towards you

“fine you needy baby, jeez” you say as you get up from the bed, walking over to where your boyfriend was sitting. you sat down on his lap, immediately stuffing your face into the crook of his neck while wrapping your hands around the back of his neck, sighing in content as the familiar scent of your boyfriend intoxicates your senses

you rested you head in the crook of his neck as he continued to play his games, leaving a kiss on his neck every now and then. you noticed how he was extra gentle with you on his lap. usually when he played his games he would yell at whoever it was on the mic that messed up or shot the wrong person, but with you there he wasn’t like that. still speaking sternly into his mic whenever somebody did something wrong, but never raising his voice

after a few minutes of kissing his neck, you started making them more frequent, your lips almost never leaving his neck. you even sucked and bit a spot, leaving a red mark that will soon turn into a bruise later. you could feel him shifting in his seat a bit at the sudden change of tempo. he was getting horny, you could tell

even though this shouldve made you stop, and help your boyfriend to win his ps5, it only egged you on more to continue. you decided to become a bit bolder, rolling your hips into his crotch slightly. his hand flew down from his keyboard, grabbing your waist immediately to stop you

“yn, don’t do that” he says, sternly

“but babyyyy, i need you so badly, please” you say bringing your head up to look at him with the biggest puppy eyes. he never could resist you when you look at him like that, your big doe eyes staring up at him he let out a sigh of defeat

“fine, but you can’t move” he said, lifting you off his lap so he could pull his pants down to his thighs

“i can’t move? you just want me to cockwarm your dick basically?” you said with a tinge of disbelief in your voice as you stood up, crossing your arms over your chest

“yeah basically. maybe you should’ve thought about what you were doing before you got yourself all worked up” he fired back

you rolled your eyes as your hands moved to take off your shorts and underwear, leaving you in just his t shirt. you moved back over your boyfriends lap, lowering yourself down as heeseung wrapped his arms around your waist. you grabbed his semi-hard dick and put it inside of you, moaning at the stretch. you resisted every urge you had to just start bouncing on his dick right there and then. he brought one of his hands to your waist, grabbing your side

“don’t move, you begged for my dick and now you have it” he said looking down at you, before continuing to play his games like you’re not sitting on his cock right now

you sat there with your head buried in the crook of his neck, arms wrapped around his neck. you wanted to move so badly, but you knew if you tried he probably would edge you for hours anyways. so you sat there completely still, face buried in his neck

after another round or two of his game, you started to get impatient, slightly shifting in your seat on purpose so you had some friction. you could feel your boyfriend tense up a little, but he didn’t make any moves to stop you. becoming a little bolder, you decided to move your hips against his slightly, almost unnoticeable. again, he made no moves to stop you. taking this as a green light to continue, you kept on rolling your hips into his slowly and gently, moaning lowly into his neck. soon after, you heard the sound from his video game meaning he lost the round, as he said something to his friend who was on the mic

“guys imma get off for tonight, we can play tomorrow or something. i have something i need to take care of, i just remembered”

you smiled to yourself, knowing what was coming. without a word, he picked you up and carried you over to the bed, setting you down as he hovered over you

“you think your little games are funny? huh pretty? moving on my dick while my friends were on the mic, when i specifically told you not to?” he said into your ear, moving down to kiss your neck after he was done

“‘m sorry hee i just wanted you so bad” you whined, wrapping your legs around his waist to bring him closer to your exposed cunt

“you were being such a brat, teasing me all day with your cute little pink panties, sticking your ass out for me to see” he said against your skin, moving down your neck. he paused for a second to remove your shirt, and continued his descent down your body, sucking and licking your nipples before moving closer to your pussy

you moaned at his words, arching your back at the feeling of him sucking your boobs. you could feel him getting closer to where you’ve been craving him all day, the pit in your stomach beginning to grow with arousal and excitement

he started by kissing the insides of your thighs, almost causing you to close your legs instinctively, but he held them open with his hands. he slowly moved up your thighs before arriving at your pretty pussy. he loved it so much, it was always so pretty. the scent of it alone could make him cum in his pants. he licked his lips before leaving a gentle kiss on your clit, before diving into your pussy like a starved man. he was licking and sucking like he had been deprived of it for years

you were a moaning mess at this point, shoving your hand into his hair as his face was buried in your cunt. you arched your back at the feeling, not being able to contain how good he was making you feel. you hands pulled a little at his locks, making him moan into your pussy, sending vibrations that you swear almost pushed you off the edge

“oh fuck hee, i’m close, i’m gonna cum” you managed to get out in between your moans, bucking your hips up into his face for more friction

“come on baby, come all over my tongue” he said in between licks, beginning to suck harder, and sticking a finger into your cunt, fingering you hard and fast

you moaned loudly as this sent you over the edge, arching your back as your legs twitched under his hands. he didn’t stop eating you out, riding your through your orgasm

as you calmed down you saw him pulling his pants down and completely off his legs, pulling off his shirt as well

“what are you doing?” you said breathlessly

“i’m sorry baby fuck the ps5, you looked so gorgeous coming in my mouth just now i need to be inside of you” he said, hovering over you once again, giving you a quick kiss before lining himself up at your entrance. he slowly inserted himself into your pussy, both of you moaning at the stretch

“fuck baby, you’re so fucking tight. can’t believe i was gonna go a month without feeling you around me” heeseung said, hands grabbing your waist

you only moaned in response, the stimulation being too much for you right now. as he bottomed out, he pulled all the way out and slammed back into you, setting a relentless speed. you moaned and whined loudly, tits bouncing with every thrust. your boyfriend threw his head back in pleasure, groaning softly as he felt you suck in him so well

suddenly, you felt him pull out. you were confused but then felt him flipping you over on your stomach, immediately sliding right back in from the back. he started his relentless speed against, as the sounds of skin slapping and squelching echoed in the room

“fuck baby, i’m close” hee said, his thrusts getting sloppier

“oh fuck- me too” you moaned out, barely comprehensible

he continued to slam into you as your orgasm washed over you, his following soon after. his hips stuttered as he filled you up with his cum, continuing to thrust it back up into you

he pulled his dick out before wiping the cum dripping from your hole and pushing it back inside of you, making sure you don’t waste a single drop

you both collapsed back onto the bed, and you rolled over so you were laying on top of your boyfriend. he wrapped his arms around your waist, resting his head on top of yours. you stayed in comfortable silence like that for a bit until you spoke up

“so… no ps5 huh? you must really love me”

“i really do, pretty girl. you’re worth not getting a ps5” he said, leaving a kiss on the top of your head

“you mean this pussy is worth not getting a ps5?” you said back, moving your head back to look at him, raising an eyebrow at him

he laughed at your comment, shaking his head at your unseriousness

“whatever you say pretty girl”

a/n: hi guys!!! ahhhh this is the first part of my series i am so excited it has gotten SO much love on only the masterlist and prologue! i was so scared to post this in fear of letting everybody down so i hope you all enjoy🫶🏼

taglist (closed!): @yannew @hanienie @beomgyusonlywife @akirakinimi @multifandomgurllll @boutyouwonu @kissmunalodz @5xiang @ibsysbsfsunsbs @guqsnfics @hellaboredd @wvnkoi @kpopslover @heerinnie @climbingmandevillas @rikisly @simeonswhore @lilriswife4life @daegutowns @harrietbarnesblog @wonniie3 @ariadores @yizhoutv @lilizinho @firstclassjaylee @olivehues @ikeusol @bunhoons @electrobutterfly @choijxn @baekxo07 @youronevia @eneiyri @soobery @heeseungshim @furious-eagle @nyxluvethn @jongseongslvr @wonniewonwon @sunsunl0ver @mixtape-racha @jakeslvt @lomlj4ke @neocockthotology @babyy-bambii @fluerz

(if your name is not tinted grey i cannot tag your account!)

[churipu]

hi i wanted to ask since your requests are open but can u write abt jjk guys (gojo, geto and maybe megumi as well) and how it would be like arguing with them? thank youuu~

ARGUMENTS WITH JJK MEN ˚｡𖦹

featuring. gojo satoru, geto suguru, toji fushiguro x reader

warnings. cursing on toji's :)

note. hi nonnie, megumi's been done and you can just click right there to be directed to the said post — so, i'm going to change him to his father jsksdjdk. anyways, i'm so sorry this came out so late, i hope you like it. i was going to focus on my 1k event but then i realized that i'm holding up the requests in my inbox, so i'm going to try to upload them together one by one. / and ngl, i just did my nails done for the first time, aND I AM STRUGGLING TO DO ANYTHING. including typing, but i'm trying my best skdjs.

GOJO SATORU. arguments with him are just plain loud. for instance, we all know how gojo is, he'd be so petty during arguments. despite that though — i feel like he won't ever raise his voice at you, he's petty, yes. but he won't do anything that could scare you, raising his voice.

believe me when i say that he won't back down when he isn't in the wrong. he will argue back if you're wrong; and even with all that banter, both you and gojo will always resolve it together. he won't let you leave or turn away to discard the argument. gojo hates it when you give him the silent treatment — so he tries his best to not let you leave unless everything is talked about, face to face.

"satoru, i'm just saying that i didn't mean to do that. okay? i didn't even realize it!" you tell him, voice loud and bold.

gojo looks at you, brows furrowed, "this is the second time y/n, i'm sure you realize that — you're not a child anymore." you grumbled under your breath.

the past few days have been stressful. hectic for you. you knew though it wasn't an excuse, but when things get too caught up — you lose track of things, and honestly, you wanted nothing to do but to sleep and take a rest. work has been taking a big toll on you, both mentally and physically — and you can't bring yourself to argue with gojo right now.

"satoru, i know. it's just, things have been stressful at work. i'm sorry i forgot to turn off the stove," you tell him genuinely sorry that you almost, possibly burn the whole house down if he hadn't been the one to realize that, "i'm sorry, okay?"

his gaze softened. regaining control over the rhythm of his breathing, gojo reaches out to you, "d'you wanna talk about it?"

you shook your head, "i just wan' to sleep, satoru. i'm tired." he buries his nose into your hair before tossing you over his shoulder, you didn't complain at the way he decided to carry you — you just wanted to go to bed and sleep the night away.

the male held you close as he climbed your shared bed, "'m sorry too," he mumbles, grazing his lips over your forehead.

"you don't have to be, it's my fault for being reckless," you replied, draping an arm over his torso, clutching his black shirt, "can we sleep now?"

gojo chuckles, "mhm. good night," he whispers, "i love you."

you smiled at him, burying your face into his chest, "good night 'toru. i love you more."

GETO SUGURU. arguments with geto can be pretty frustrating, although he never raises his voice at you. he just knows what to say, and he's always right too. whether it being about you forgetting to throw the trash out (once), or you being forgetful about some things — geto just knows the right words to say to you, without making you feel like you're doing something wrong.

see, the thing is in the house. you both divided your chores, geto does the dishes, and the mopping. you do the laundry and vacuuming. while the morning trash is yours, and he does it nightly.

he's usually never in the wrong. most of the time. but when he is, he will admit so. in conclusion, you don't argue with him often, because he will apologize if he knows he did something wrong. but this was on rare occasions.

today is one of those rare occasions. you swore you had left the house clean — and you remembered throwing the trash before you leave for work. yet, here he was, asking you about it.

"suguru, i promise i threw it in the morning. before i left for work," you tell him, taking off your shoes and putting it neatly on the shoe rack. having to come back home from work, you just wanted to eat dinner, have a nice warm bath, and sleep.

god, you hated arguments. you admitted that you sometimes forget to throw the trash out while rushing to go to work, but that was not intentional at all.

geto had asked your prior about it. you knew he wasn't sparking an argument, but the thing is — you remembered it well. going out of the door this morning while holding a plastic of waste, hell, you even remembered bumping into a neighbor on the way out.

"just . . . let me throw it out again—" geto has been awfully silent for the past few minutes, and when you approached the trash can, he immediately stops you.

his hand latching around your wrist gently as he pulls you over, "no, no. it's my fault, i remember now. i was the one who threw that in the trash can after you left," he said to you in an apologetic tone, "'m sorry."

you shook your head, "it's okay, it's just a misunderstanding. and it's not like you intentionally forgot about it, right?" he nods his head mutely, pulling you into a silent embrace, "y'okay sugu?"

"the next time i do that — i want you to smack me in the face, okay?" you chuckled, placing a wet kiss onto his lips.

TOJI FUSHIGURO. i don't know how to say it — he's just accepts his fate and does whatever you want him to do. he thinks arguments are a complete waste of time, it's not like he likes arguing with you in the first place. he just doesn't see a point to it since he never initiates the talking; you always do. but that's because he did things that sparked the said argument. you reap what you sow.

toji can be lazy sometimes. scratch that. most of the time. clothes sprawled out in the living room, on the kitchen counter which he claimed he forgot when he was grabbing water, on the couch, on the headboard of your bed, on the bathroom sink. and honestly, he's a grown man — he knows better than that.

"toji, how many times do i have to tell you—"

"put the dirty laundry in their place, yeah, y'reminded me that like . . . three times today." he grumbled under his breath as he yawned out loudly.

"then why are you still leaving them everywhere? god, this is so childish! it's like 'm taking care of a fucking baby," toji lets out a sigh, "i'm so tired of telling you over and over again. you're a grown man, why can't you act like one?"

toji's not dumb. he knows it's his mistake, and sometimes he genuinely forgets about leaving his shirt out while being too preoccupied with other things. he loves you, he really does. the last thing he'd like is you leaving him because he can't stop his habit of leaving his shirt everywhere.

he approaches you, taking the shirt out of your grip, "my fault."

"damn right it is. the next time i see another shirt, i swear to god, you're sleeping on the couch." you muttered out, crossing your arms — watching as the male meekly trotted into the bathroom where the laundry basket rested beside the bathroom cabinet.

"is that a threat?" he chuckles, peeking his head out.

"no. it's a warning."

he walks out of the bathroom, slithering an arm around your waist, hoisting you up onto his shoulder as he walked towards the couch. prepping you on his lap, "mm. noted, can you stop getting mad at me now?" he comments, grazing his finger over your neck.

and he did it again at night (and slept on the couch like you warned him, he still hates you for that).

© CHURIPU 2024 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE

[yandere-kokeshi]

We need to know how separate TF-141 would be as house-husbands!!! Please!!!

— Yandere headcanons of TF-141 as house-husbands

Warnings: Yandere behavior, older! characters, male gender roles, NSFW, slight delusional behaviors.

A/N: Anon, you are SO, so smart. I love you /a.

Captain “Price” John:

The type of house-husband nobody expected for him to be– not even himself. John had partially agreed to it, and now he’s a stay-at-home dad for your cats. When he wedded you, he never thought of it this way; and now, he had promised to always care for you, did he not?

Price is well over-tired, pretty hairy and massive; beard scratchy and face all squishy; he’s a chubby man. But that doesn’t stop him at all.

John loves waking you up in the mornings. Before even shaking you awake, he loves to admire you. Watching your different breathing patterns, some dribbles of drool, and the obvious bed marks staining your face makes him smirk. But of course, it ends too short when he realizes you need to get up.

John is so, oh gentle, when waking you up. Scarred hands rubbing at your hips as he rubs his beard into your shoulder, prepping kisses and telling you to get a move on. However, if you ignore him, he’s more than happy to leave some permanent marks, yes?

He always makes your breakfast and lunch the night before, chopping the meat, fruits, and vegetables into the correct order so he can easily sleep in with you till you leave. So, when your alarm goes off, he detaches himself from you, getting up with only his red boxers– turning on the oven to preheat the food yet again and leaving them on the table for you to enjoy when you get out of the shower.

And with that, he takes your health seriously, mentally and physically, which means most foods in the house are pretty healthy. All types of fruits, veggies, protein, and fiber nourishment is given with each meal, and he expects you to eat it all. 

When shopping, he takes everything seriously. He hates getting off track, only sticking to what’s on the list, and cashiers who take too long on talking– especially if they openly flirt with him. Can’t you see I'm taken? He snarks out, showing off his wedding ring before fast walking out towards his car with his hands full.

Chores are chores. They need to be done. Dishes are easy, laundry, and vacuuming are a piece of cake. But cleaning the bathroom? Oh, that’s a bit difficult. Especially with the hidden camera he’s put out of your sight, and at times, he gets distracted; watching the many films, seeing you all naked and wet, makes Price feel... a sudden urge. How are you just so gorgeous, hm?

John is the definition of a “Pro Loyalty Card”. For all those stores he visits, he has cards for each and every single one of them, including the convenience store. They always come in handy.

Routines are his specialty; he knows everything about your schedule, to the time you leave for work, to when you call him at your lunch break, come home and collapse in his lap, all the way to sleeping in the bed naked. He’s memorized it all. 

After the long antagonizing and stressful week, John always sits you down for a long bath. He massages your shoulders, using a special lotion to rub on you after the bath. But, that’s not the only gift he's giving. Before gently and lovingly pushing you to the bed, he slowly fucks the stress and irritation of you; teeth makes ensuring you stay loyal to your man.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Simon is quick and sleek with shopping, getting and seeking foods that have high nutrition because you only deserve the best. Most foods he picks out are healthy, getting many baskets of fruits to ensure you enjoy your lunches. But when passing by the sugar aisle, he can’t help but choose a few sweets for you. 

A type of house-husband you’d never expect. He’s brooding, shoulders kept tight, wearing a black mask and hoodie as he sulks in the grocery aisles, holding the colored basket. You’d think he’s stealing with a gun hidden in his back pocket. However, when in reality, he’s taking his house duties extremely seriously as he eyes for the cereal aisle.

He wakes up way early, even before you start to stir awake, even before the sun rises and goals himself to get a good workout in. Even though he’s not the same lieutenant as he was years ago– he’s not lazy, and still picks up his pace whilst jogging down the street and doing push-ups in the open garage. 

At times, he wishes you could join him, and it would be fun, would it not? Having you down below, as his chest presses against yours and your flushed face being the main goal for him to continue? Or maybe, him guiding you through pull-ups, and you need his help? Oh, that’s how to make him very desperate for you in the early mornings. 

Speaking of early mornings, when you rise with his gentle shaking, whispers of “good mornin’”, and his rough stubble rubbing your neck, you realize just how lucky you are. Especially with how Riley joins in, when he notices his second favorite human is up and awake. 

Though, if you decide to ignore these two, covering your face and mumbling away, Simon will crawl over you, prep your face with sloppy kisses, and murmur hot and dirty words. His hand instinctively crawling down, snapping the band of your underwear, nails barely scratching at your skin whilst promising to get you all hot and messy, before forcing you out of bed. 

When you leave out of that door, regardless of the morning, he ensures the house is spotless before you come home. He doesn’t listen to any music, only the occasional barks from Riley as he sprays the leather couches, doing the dishes the “old-fashioned way”, and folding laundry like it’s a race. 

Most are scared of him– except for that one lady down the road. Her eyes follow Simon as if he’s a god, but he scoffs at that when she twirls her hair. You’re the real deity, he openly thinks. Of course, he shows off his pretty wedding ring, the one you got him; and somehow, Simon wishes you’d just make out with him in public, show her that he’s off limits and that he’s yours. 

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick:

The type of househusband who immediately recognized that you needed to be cared for, and went forth with that promise between the marriage. You work so hard to make money for the both of you. And he’s devoted to doing whatever he can to be helpful too. 

Kyle is a clean freak, which means the house is nearly spotless when you come home. Every scratch at the couch has him grunting and hands vigorously trying to rub it off. Shoes inside the house are immediately put up, and he hates rainy days; looking at you with glaring pupils as you step inside with soaked coverings. But, he loves you. 

The chores in the house are easily done before the afternoon, dishes cleaned with shiny marks and the floors vacuumed. Dusting and sweeping the house with headphones on, face flushed whilst… listening to among things he’d never want you to find out. 

Laundry is always last in line, as he tends to “borrow” a good deal of dirty underwear of yours, smelling them intensely. Don’t worry though, he returns them at some point. 

Kyle is the definition of “wifey material food”. Every breakfast consists of incredible fried eggs, mixed with bacon and fluffy pancakes; lunch and dinner being different every day, which is nice. He usually sticks with foods you’re comfortable with, never going out of your zone, and tries his hardest to make different sizes of hearts out of the food. 

Though, you never seem to notice the secret ingredient, the divine particular part where the two of you are bonded stronger. Such shame, he utters. Sometimes he wishes you’d come home early– catch him desperately adding it within the dish with utter lewd excitement. 

Having you come home is the best time of the day. Waiting by the door, wearing the cactus green apron you got him years ago, with a giant smile and dinner laid out, waiting for you. By the end of dinner, you’re full; both of love, and much suffocation of affection. 

All the other housewives in the area love him. They often invite him for yoga, or work-out sessions. But, he usually uses the excuse that you need him. You do, don't you?

Every Friday, he wears and shows off certain gifts he feels that you’ll love. You work so hard for the both of you, so he should show his appreciation, should he not? Wearing all types of risqué clothing, leaving desperate messages, and having lingerie hidden underneath his black vest, coloring his skin and outlining his scars, stretch marks, and moles. Sooner or later, it leads to a heavy cuddle-sex session that he knows you’ll love. 

Johnny “Soap” MacTavish:

The type of househusband who uses his pretty eyes and sculpted body, to get his way. Everything from seeing you at your working office and past your lunch break, to getting free food samples, all the way to a book full of coupons and all types of gifts for half the percentage. 

He’s amazing at picking food at the grocery outlet, picking up the correct portions of proper protein, vegetables, and iron. And sometimes, sneaking a few donuts, pops, and tubs of ice cream he knows you love. 

Johnny always wakes you up, the alarm rarely shaking you as your beloved husband knows your schedule by heart. He ensures your breakfast and lunch are ready by 7am, smirking at the added secret ingredients that he only knows. 

He’s more lenient with waking you up. Knowing how you like to sleep, beauty sleep he corrects, Johnny tries to let you snooze in as far as you can, before gently stirring you up as the sun rises in the opened window. 

His arms snake around your waist, cuddling up behind you whilst pulling you into his warm chest, as he nibbles on your ear and tells you to start getting up; breakfast is served on the table with awaited love. Though, if his sweet honey voice doesn’t work at this time, maybe some extremely sloppy oral will help, no? 

Johnny ensures that everybody knows you’re lovingly taken. Those hickeys and bruises on your arms, and neck show just how loveable he is. He boasts about you all the time, to his then-team, cashiers and ladies on the streets. It’s only expected you do the same, yes? 

Housewives and other househusbands either love him, or envy him. He’s pretty– too alluring to just be at home and caring for duties. Most women, and men constantly flaunt at his grown-out mohawk, often slicked back into a small bun and a few scars, especially one on his head, that prominent his face. 

He’s still in shape, working out in the early mornings and doing yoga with the other moms; who he regularly drinks coffee with. They love how sweet and handsome the man is, especially towards his spouse. 

Anyone would be lucky to have him, and many would trade a lifetime for him. But, he’s not going anywhere, not without you or your yummy neck anytime soon. 

—

Masterlist || Please support me as a writer by reblogging or commenting <3

© yandere-kokeshi 2024 — Do not copy, modify, edit, repost, or use my works for ASMR readings, tiktoks, or other content.

[ohmygraves]

the first time you and ghost became roommates, he didn't have a lot of things.

he had his essentials, packed in a duffel bag and like, two moving boxes and that's it. he didn't even have his own furniture or pots and pans, so the two of you didn't cook for the first few weeks living together. he seems perfectly content with just living with the furniture that came with the apartment, an old beat up sofa and dirty stained dining table, together with a few chairs and old mattresses in each bedroom. you made it a goal to get rid of the smelly bed as soon as possible, working your arse off to afford new beds for the sake of your back.

ghost, or well, simon, don't feel the need to own too many things. he thinks it's a nuisance, since well it'll be tiring to pack so many things when he needs to move again for some reason or another. even when he stayed in the barracks, his room was always the most bare out of everyone.

you were the opposite, of course. you liked having lots of personal items and memorabilia, or just trinkets that you like in general. your shared flat is full of your items, posters hung up on the wall, framed pictures, potted plants, consoles and books, whatever you have. it felt like the place was only occupied by you, and with how often simon was away on deployments and missions, it might as well be.

you both split duties when he's around. you cook, he does dishes. you take out the trash, he cleans the bathroom. you tidy things up and he'd mop/vacuum it. he insisted that you cook since he's not much of a cook himself (which, explains why he doesn't have a single kitchen utensils in his stuff) and that you're better at cooking than him. he'd gladly deal with all the dirty jobs for you, wouldn't be the worst thing he did anyway.

you and simon get groceries separately (his "groceries" consisting of some type of booze and maybe toiletries, perhaps some snacks if he's feeling fancy), but very rarely you go together with him to tesco or something. you always have to remind him to note whatever things needed to be replaced at your shared flat, so that you don't have to go multiple times just to get a bottle of dish soap or toilet paper.

you two bicker like an old married couple sometimes, because he's a smart ass and would tease you, and you'd get mad at him for eating your things or using your soap/shampoo.

sometimes you wondered if rooming with simon was a bad idea, but he had always made sure to keep your job easy for you except for a few minor inconveniences he did on purpose just so you'd scold him. he helped move furniture and do the heavy jobs for you, and not to mention he leaves you alone, never nosy or get too friendly with you. although at the same time, he expected you to do the same for him.

if he tells you when he's coming back after missions, you'd get him a treat when he gets home, some beer already chilling in the refrigerator and his favorite snacks on the counter, together with his favorite takeout dinner (of course, you'd ask for the money back. you're not made of money if you're rooming with someone). some snarky note like "shower first before you sleep, stinky" or "it's 30 pounds for everything, you're welcome".

simon didn't think much of it, but he definitely took you for granted. you're a nice roommate, you two get along, and you're a great cook. you made sure to feed him whenever possible (because you're convinced he'd actually forget to eat when he's alone, considering his groceries as mentioned before), and not to mention you made his masks and balaclava smell nice and clean when you do laundry.

you'd patiently help him sew, teach him how to mend his clothes when he has the time (which is still a funny sight seeing how small the needles looked between his thick massive fingers). he always gets frustrated, telling you that you did a much better job than his lousy stitches that wouldn't even hold up after one wear. you'd sew all tears and holes on his masks and clothes, patch the holes up when you could.

in return, he'd bring some of your favorite snacks home. he always said something along the lines that it was on sale, or that it's buy one get one free, but you noted that he always brought home your favorite things after you mended his clothes, or helped him in some way. you didn't mind, you liked the snacks and it's nice that he shows his gratitude in this way.

you try to ignore the thumping of your heart every time he hands you things while saying "reckon you'd like this."

[forzalando]

what makes the sunset?

3k celebration blurb for @katsu28! you can find my celebration post here if you'd like to celebrate with me :) title inspired by the song what makes the sunset? - frank sinatra. if you’d like, give it a listen! that’s the vibe of lando x reader in this💛 word count: 845 summary: sappy sunset with lando. obvious they both love each other but no established relationship (i love idiots in love).

The time was nearing 8:00pm – you’d already cooked and cleaned up dinner, thrown a load of laundry in the washer, changed into comfy PJs, and vacuumed your entire living space.

The tick of your tv remote was beginning to drive you mad. Each time you scrolled to the next tv show or movie in your recommended, the sound grew louder and louder. After ten minutes of searching, you reached for your phone and went to the last text thread in your messages.

what should I watch? I literally can’t find anything that looks interesting and it’s driving me insane

The reply bubbles appeared on your screen almost immediately, but your (hopefully) saving grace decided to call instead of respond via text.

“What are you in the mood for?” Lando asked, his mouth clearly full of his dinner.

“Did you call me so that you wouldn’t have to take a break from eating to text me back?”

“Maybe, but I’m the one asking the questions here. What are you in the mood for?”

“Hmm,” you paused, “something beautiful, passionate, emotionally stirring. I want to feel something.”

“And you came to me for suggestions?” Lando’s laugh rang through the speaker, the sound filling you with warmth.

“Well, excuse me, Mr. ‘I’m a Scorpio and let me tell you all about it’! Aren’t you supposed to be passionate and emotional?”

“Alright, give me a minute to think!”

The silence was brief, not even 30 seconds had passed before Lando began speaking again.

“Be ready in 15 minutes, I’ve got the perfect idea.”

Before you had a chance to ask what he meant, the line went dead. You huffed out a breath and made your way to your room to change out of your pajamas – which, quite honestly, soured your mood a bit.

Exactly 15 minutes after your call ended, Lando Norris was furiously knocking at your door.

“Come on, come on, hurry up!!!” You could hear him yelling from outside your apartment – thank goodness it was early enough that your neighbors wouldn’t complain about a nighttime disturbance.

Swinging your door open, you came face to face with Lando, his arm raised to knock incessantly once again.

“You are insufferable,” you huffed. Those were the only words you could get out before Lando was practically dragging you towards the elevators.

“Where are we even going?”

“It’s a surprise,” he sang. You couldn’t help but laugh at his giddiness, following him blindly down to his car sitting outside your building, still running and somehow not stolen.

You tried to guess – ice cream, a friend’s place, a movie theater. With each guess, Lando shook his head and teased that he wasn’t going to tell you. Soon, Lando had parked his car in a familiar lot, one you’d driven to many times before when the weather was nice and he was miraculously home.  

The sand was white and inviting – it squished underneath your toes as you stepped onto the beach, soft and still slightly warm from the sun beating down on it all day. You began to sit down when you heard Lando shouting behind you.

“NO sandy bottoms in my car, I brought a beach blanket you heathen!”

Sure enough, you turned around and there he was with the beach blanket you’d bought for him last summer. It had papayas on it, you simply couldn’t pass up the opportunity.

“So what are we doing here, Lan?”

He gestured towards the view in front of you. “You said you wanted to watch something beautiful and emotionally stirring.”

You looked at him quizzically, his hint completely lost on you. He rolled his eyes teasingly, scooting closer to you and bringing his arm up to look at his watch.

“The sun should start setting in about…five minutes? If I timed this correctly.”

“You brought me to the beach to watch the sunset?” A soft smile graced your lips, and it was your turn to scoot closer to Lando, only a few centimeters separating your legs.

“It just kind of popped into my head, but I should have asked you. I didn’t totally think this through, I’m sorry – ”

“Lando,” you interrupted him. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”

He smiled at you and breathed a sigh of relief as he looked out towards the water, his shoulders visibly relaxing. It was silent for a few moments until he tensed again, turning to face you with wide eyes.

“Are you cold? The temperature is going to drop like twenty degrees, I have an extra hoodie in my car, let me go grab it.”

As he started to get up, you gently grabbed his arm and pulled him back down, finally closing the tiny gap of space between you.

“I’m fine, Lando,” you insisted, leaning your head on his shoulder and linking your arms. “You’re everything I need.”

He relaxed again and lowered his head slowly to meet yours, intertwining your fingers at the same time. As the two of you sat in silence, unspoken words and feelings swirled around in your minds.

Emotionally stirring was an understatement.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

A KITCHEN-TABLE KINDA LOVE ; SATORU GOJO

synopsis; satoru doesn’t quite know what love is supposed to feel like. but if it means coming home to you, it can’t possibly be that much of a curse.

word count; 4.9k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, satoru gojo vs. the mortifying ordeal of being loved, fluff fluff fluff!!, a hint of angst if you reeeaallyyy squint, gojo’s pov, the babygirlification of satoru gojo, i just think being babied would fix him <33

a/n; i wanted to write something for suguru or shoko but this man is genuinely holding my brain hostage atp so more satoru fluff it is!! physically i could write gojo angst yes but emotionally? imagine the toll…

when satoru steps over the threshold to your apartment, he’s downright exhausted.

it’s a heavy kind of fatigue, a little sickening. the kind that seems to sneak its way into his bones, crawl its way under his skin. dragging him down, down, down.

a yawn slips from his lips.

the mission itself wasn’t too tough — anything is a breeze for satoru gojo, that fact needs no elaboration. this one was just a little more taxing than usual, slightly more important, which meant he had to deal with the technicalities of it all. had to listen to the elders go on and on about the importance of discretion, about finishing things swiftly and efficiently, and something else he didn’t stick around long enough to hear.

and the curse? a small fry, really. nothing worth fussing over. but it was annoying, with that irritatingly effective barrier technique. how long did he have to stay inside that goddamn veil before it let him get close enough to land a hit? satoru doesn’t want to think about it, can’t be bothered to figure it out when all he wants is to collapse into the warm comfort of a soft mattress. all he knows is that when it finally lifted, the night sky was the only thing he could see. a vacuum of stars — taunting in its perpetuity.

so, with all that being said; to say satoru feels a little worn out might be a bit of an understatement. 

hair slightly tousled, eyelids heavy with sleep-deprivation, he slumps against the wall and allows himself to simply breathe. a soft groan flows from his parted lips as he stretches idly, a small respite for his stiff and achy joints, his tired muscles. it’s been a long day. but satoru still finds it in him to exhale a relieved breath, to drag his blindfold down to his neck and kick off his shoes.

because it’s been a long, long day — but now he’s finally home.

(not just a house, not just an apartment, but a home. a place of comfort and belonging. satoru didn’t think that was a luxury he would ever be able to afford.)

the moment he lets the door close behind him, a particular scent greets him. soothing in its familiarity, the only thing in his life that never seems to change; a blend between fresh laundry, and watered houseplants, and something that smells a bit like honey. maybe even sweeter than usual, though he chalks it up to his mind playing tricks on him. 

it’s nice. so nice. coming back to something warm and real, a respite from his hectic work. a safe haven, of sorts, one that hasn’t been taken from him yet.

satoru likes to think of your front door as a threshold between realms, a gap between within and without. one is dark in its saturation, plagued by that never-fading smell of iron, while the other is simply warm. sacred, in its normalcy. everything looks just as it should, the same as when he rushed out this morning; a fluffy blanket haphazardly draped over the couch, that soft golden light streaming out from the kitchen, your shoes by the front door.

satoru blinks, drowsily.

wait.

(why is the kitchen light still on?)

as if his eyes could ever deceive him, satoru rubs the skin underneath them — blinking once, then twice. 

yep — it’s still there. that soft fluorescent glow, a sight he’s come to associate with breakfast and dinner and a mellow kind of love, laughter shared over warm meals made by human hands. food tastes better, satoru has come to realize, when you have someone to eat it with. 

ah, but it’s odd. did you forget to turn the lights off? that’s not very like you. 

as if possessed by a strange, irresistible longing, his feet carry him to the kitchen in question. undeniably groggy, his uncoordinated steps riddled with fatigue, but the yearning in his chest compels him to move forward anyway — a kind of yearning he only fully understands when he enters the space, and sees you slumped over the table, a familiar flicker of cursed energy capturing his attention.

satoru stills, where he stands by the threshold between the kitchen and the living room.

everything looks the same as always — cookie jars placed on the highest shelf to give him an excuse to help you reach them, origami made from newspapers he never bothers to read anyway, a vase standing proudly on the kitchen counter, stuffed with fresh flowers he bought for you two days ago. the red roses still haven’t wilted, shining in the blue of the moonlight flickering in. good. they’re pretty, but maybe next time he should get you something more original. maybe some sunflowers, something that could rival the brightness of your smile.

do they even sell sunflowers this time of year? if you were awake, satoru would ask you, even though you always tell him to just google it —

but you're not awake. you’re fast asleep, cheek squished against the kitchen table, snoring softly.

satoru feels his mood lift at the sight alone, and suddenly he doesn’t feel as tired anymore. something soft sprouts in his chest, almost otherworldly, as he takes you in, stepping closer. almost giddy, just to see you up close.

you look so peaceful and relaxed, so content. elbows resting on the table as soft little breaths fall from your parted lips; he spots a bit of drool on the corner of your bottom lip, gaze fond as he wipes it away with his thumb. he can’t resist the urge to poke your cheek, and it makes you stir ever so slightly — lips curling up into something like a sleepy smile.

satoru grins.

(you’re so, so cute.)

despite his fatigue, he hears himself chuckle, all soft and amused and a little bit lovesick. it comes to him so easily, when he’s with you; that upturn of his lips, the butterflies in his stomach. satoru is still getting used to it. this cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love. the kind that always feels like spring. 

but with every day that passes, the life he has with you becomes a little easier to digest. his future with you becomes a little easier to visualize.

yeah, he thinks. he could get used to this. coming home to you.

a soft smile, as he exhales a breath, laced with exasperation. you really shouldn’t be sleeping out here, though. silly.

satoru leans forward, inching closer to your pretty, sleeping face — he almost feels bad, waking you up like this. but he wants to hear your voice so badly.

so he cups your cheek, cold skin meeting warm, his hands still lingering with the bite of the midnight air. his fingertips tingle, buzzing with the body heat that trickles from your veins to his — one single touch is all it takes for him to soften. the word that falls from his lips breaks the peaceful silence of the kitchen, breathing life into the moment. whispered into your ear, causing your brows to furrow as you gently slip from sleep’s embrace.

“baby…” 

satoru is smiling, when your eyelids flutter open. a sincere smile, reserved for you and his students. bathed in the mellow hue of the kitchen lamp’s illumination, a soft glow curls around the strands of his white hair, creating a halo of artificial light.

blinking sleepily, you gaze at him in silence. something shines in your eyes, something satoru tentatively recognizes as adoration. and he gazes right back at you, with heavy-lidded eyes and a lopsided smile. teasing, lighthearted. thumb smoothing over the apple of your cheek.

then he grins, hopelessly endeared. ”hey there, sleeping beauty.”

for a moment, all you do is lean into his touch. a yawn tumbles from your lips, as you lift yourself up, snuggling closer still. “toru…” you mumble, voice a little raspy but still oh so sweet.

satoru doesn’t say anything. he simply takes you into his arms, gently, touch so very delicate — as if you’re made of porcelain. and you just let yourself fall into his embrace, while he tucks you under his chin, safe and secure. it’s warm, he thinks. it feels right. complete, somehow.

and satoru thinks to himself that this must be what love feels like. what it’s supposed to feel like, anyhow, all sweet and light. all good and normal, something you never have to question.

a cornerstone.

“you’re back…” you drawl, muffled into his uniform, arms sneaking around his thin waist to bring him closer. he strokes the back of your head, softly.

satoru’s chest rumbles, as he speaks, voice deep and a little raspy. soothing, a lullaby just for you. “yeah,” he hums. ”were you waiting?”

all you do is nuzzle further into him, into his chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart; breathing out a sleepy little mhm that has him going weak at the knees. lips curling up helplessly.

“i wanted to…” you continue, stretching your arms a little, trying to shrug away the remnants of sleep still clinging to your joints. “… but i fell asleep.” 

satoru feels you move in his arms, until your jaw settles on top of his shoulder, followed by a chaste kiss to his neck. an exhale leaves his lips, something tender in the way his breath wavers.

“welcome home,” is whispered, muffled against his skin. a sentence he never wants to go a single day without hearing. “did the mission go okay?”

he plants a kiss on top of your head, speaking in a low tilt, reassuring. “it did. just took a little longer than i thought.” a soft inhale, as he basks in the scent of your shampoo. “i wanted to text you, but the veil blocked my signal. sorry, sweetie.”

another soft yawn, and a shake of your head. “s’ fine, don’t worry,” you murmur. ”i’m just glad you’re okay.”

satoru chuckles. there’s a fondness to it, light, and then there’s something else. something far more heavy — it rumbles through his chest, almost like a purr, or a soothing thunderstorm. he can only hope it’s enough to comfort you. “of course.” he says the words like they’re indisputable, like they’re written down in scriptures old and worn. cradling you in his strong arms, pulling you closer to his chest. hoping you’ll feel his heartbeat against you, feel that he’s there. “i always am, aren’t i?”

no answer. only a tiny hum, absentminded.

and satoru knows, deep down, that his words don’t mean much. that a part of you is always going to worry over him, no matter how many times he tells you that there’s no need. that he’ll be fine.

the thought makes him feel a bit guilty. a little sick to his stomach, at the thought that he’s a source of your anxiety, the reason you can’t fall asleep at night — but he’d be lying if he said it didn’t also make him feel kinda giddy. the thought tastes sweet, on his tongue, even though it probably shouldn’t. having someone to worry for you is a luxury, he’s realized. a luxury he has, now, one he hasn’t had since —

well. that’s neither here nor there.

(“be careful, satoru,” he recalls a kind boy saying.

but that was many, many springs ago.)

“oh, right.”

at the sound of your voice, satoru pulls away, ever so slightly, gazing down at you. “hm?”

with a single step back, you look up at him, tilting your head like a sleepy puppy. hands still resting securely on his waist, fingertips squeezing at his hips. lightly, affectionately. barely restrained fondness. ”have you had anything to eat yet?”

“yeah. got some takeout on my way back.”

satoru expects you to sigh in relief, at his instantaneous answer. you don’t like it when he skips meals, so these days he tries not to. even though he doesn’t always have the time to eat properly, and even though the sweets he chews on between missions make him lose his appetite. but he makes an honest attempt, for you.

someone worries for him. someone wants him to eat well. that’s more than enough motivation for satoru gojo.

but you don’t exhale, and you don’t look very relieved. you look… disappointed. eyes suddenly glancing down at the floor, lips curled down into a barely noticeable frown. “oh,” you breathe. “okay. that’s good.”

one second. then two.

satoru tilts his head.

“why?” he stops to think. maybe… “did you make something?”

a certain recognition flickers in the depths of your eyes, and satoru thinks he must be right on the money. chewing at your bottom lip, a little, you wait a moment before curling your fingers around his wrist — tugging him away from the kitchen table. satoru follows, pliantly, until you’re standing in front of the fridge.

“well, um… here,” you mumble, somewhat sheepishly. fingers tapping at the handle before pulling it open. “take a look.”

satoru watches as the fridge door opens, slowly.

he blinks.

the first thing he sees is a single slice of strawberry shortcake. the strawberry looks fresh, glittering like a ruby on top of the softly whisked cream — and layers of sponge cake, that look like they’d melt in his mouth.

and that’s not all. there are a wide array of baked treats stuffed into the cramped space, protected by plastic wrapping and containers. everything from cupcakes with too much frosting — just the way he likes them — to chocolate chip cookies that crumble at the corners, satoru never seems to run out of things to look at. colourful treats, lovingly made and sitting right in front of him. it’s like he’s standing in a patisserie. they almost seem to sparkle, in the peripheral of his vision; glimmering softly, tantalizingly, like something out of a dream.

childish. that’s what nanami and shoko always call him, and he always protests, but —

maybe they have a point, after all. satoru certainly feels a little childish, when he realizes his eyes must be wide and bursting with child-like giddiness. a simple kind of joy, at seeing the ample selection in front of him. especially after that tedious mission prevented him from getting any sugar into his system.

”i did my best,” you mutter, sharing the sight with him as your eyes trail over a pretty bag of pink and green macarons. ”dunno if they turned out any good, but… i hope you’ll like them.”

satoru’s gaze flits over to you. 

he opens his mouth, and then closes it again.

”did you… make these?” a beat. ”for me?”

a blink. ”.. yeah?” who else would they be for?, your eyes seem to say. a little confused.

for a second, satoru can only stare at you. in complete silence, the tired cogs inside his head turning sluggishly as he thinks about the implications of that answer. and with a soft flutter, he feels his heartbeat pick up, warming him up from the inside out. 

you made them. with your own hands. you made all of these and you did it for him.

for some reason, satoru finds it oddly hard to speak, like someone stuffed a bunch of cupcakes down his throat. it’s weird — usually he can’t seem to stop talking, especially not when he’s with you, but… 

(something about this is just too tender.)

you must have been baking all day. no wonder the apartment smelled sweeter than usual, when he walked in.

as if itching to curl around one of the macarons, his fingers twitch, but satoru gulps and keeps them still. he wants to say something, anything, wants to thank you or ask why you’d spend so much of yourself on him, but satoru only stays silent.

and maybe it’s because he’s tired. maybe he’s just a little caught off guard. usually this wouldn’t be that hard to handle — he could just throw himself on you and shower you in kisses, show his appreciation with a flurry of dramatics and declarations of love. 

but right now there seems to be a disconnect, between satoru’s mind and body. maybe the mission drained him more than he realized. or maybe it’s more than that, maybe there’s nothing he can say or do; what words could he even begin to use to properly verbalize the emotions he’s feeling right now? how could his touch ever begin to measure up to the sweet sensation unfurling in his chest?

the silence doesn’t last long. as satoru stands there and spirals, you speak up, most likely chalking it up to him being too sleepy to react. 

”this mission was especially rough, right?” you begin, with a soft tilt of your head. a smile curls its way onto your lips, proud and sweet. sweeter than everything in the fridge combined.

one step, then two. you inch closer to him, until there’s almost no space between you — standing on your tiptoes, one hand on his shoulder and the other reaching for his head. smoothing down his tousled hair, fingers tangling themselves between the soft white strands and getting lost in them. and it’s gentle, the way you begin to pat his head, doting. 

then you speak. ”you did well.”

and it’s such a simple thing to say. three words, three syllables, but the words just tumble out from your mouth so earnestly that satoru can’t help but still. his breath hitches in his throat, softly, barely noticeable, but it’s there. that surprise.

he never knows how to act, when you get like this. patting his head and ruffling his hair like he’s something warm and sweet and worthy of love. something delicate, and not the strongest man on the planet. 

it’s so weird. you’re so weird.

(satoru leans into your touch without thinking, allowing his eyes to flutter shut.)

it’s perplexing, this feeling, and the fact that he can’t pinpoint why frustrates him to no end. isn’t this wrong? shouldn’t he be the one ruffling your hair, coddling you?

what formula is he supposed to follow here, exactly? should he tease you? pull away from your touch?

satoru wishes his six eyes could tell him the answer, but they don’t. they’ve never been very good with emotions, with things that aren’t directly tied to his suffering or imminent death.

(so ironic. all these eyes and nothing to see. they failed to see suguru’s silence, back then, and now they fail to see what reaction would please you the most. 

really, such a worthless ability to love people with.)

no answer comes to him. so satoru doesn’t tease you, and he doesn’t pull away.

it does feel slightly wrong, though. like this feeling isn’t something he’s supposed to have, there must be some mistake, he can’t possibly be allowed to feel so loved — can he? having you bake him all his favorite treats, run your fingers through his hair. praise him for working hard.

really. isn’t he being too coddled?

(… but it feels so nice.)

satoru suspects that there’s a lot to love he might not fully understand, just yet.

maybe tomorrow, when he’s a little less tired, he can try once again to give you the impression that he’s perfect. that he doesn’t need affection, that he doesn’t crave your support or your touch. that he’s above all that, the strongest, someone for you to depend on.

depend on him, while he depends on no one. that’s the kind of existence satoru gojo is. that’s how it should be, that’s all he knows, but…

— ah. it feels really nice when your nails scratch his scalp like that.

and suddenly, that’s all satoru can think. no more pesky what-ifs, or second guessing every good thing he gets. right now, it’s just you and him. your fingers in his hair, his footprints in your life.

satoru allows himself to melt under your touch, almost meekly. leaning down just a little further, to make it easier for you to smooth your hand over his head. he nuzzles into your palm with a happy little exhale, and for some reason he feels sort of bashful.

try as he might, he doesn’t manage to successfully shoo the emotion away, so all he can do is hope you don’t take note of it.

and you just continue your onslaught of affection, now ruffling his hair with both your hands, like he’s a big puppy getting cooed over. satoru has a nagging suspicion that you might be getting a little carried away, but he doesn’t stop you. greedy, in the way he wishes your hands would never leave his hair. the way he hopes you’ll never be too far away from him to reach.

”such a hard worker,” you coo, and he feels himself grow flustered. ”my baby deserves so much love.”

”woah there,” satoru chokes out, grinning, desperately hoping you won’t notice the red tint to his ears. ”are you flirting with me? i have a partner, you know.”

a giggle slips from your lips, sleepy and amused. ”oh, do you?” one of your hands goes to cup his cheek,  thumb caressing the edge of his jaw as you gaze at him fondly. ”lucky them.”

the grin you’re wearing is awfully bright. soft around the edges in a way that has him speechless, brain malfunctioning ever so slightly. satoru makes a mental note to scrap the sunflower idea — there has to be some brighter flower out there, one that can actually compete with your smile. sunflowers just won’t cut it.

but then you let go, and satoru gets broken out of his lovesick stupor.

when your hands leave his skin, his lips curl down into a soft pout. one he rushes to smooth away, before you can notice it.

you step back, failing to stifle a soft bout of laughter, but satoru knows it’s not because you saw it — he knows because your gaze is glued to his hair, and he internally winces when he thinks about how messy it must look, after your little bout of cuteness aggression. 

(you really are weird, finding him cute of all things.)

he expects you to tease him a little more, but you don’t, turning away and tapping your fingers on the kitchen counter. ”if i’d known you’d be home this late,” you speak, stealing one last glance at the pastries before closing the fridge. ”then i would’ve waited until tomorrow. so you could eat them fresh.”

an apology rests on satoru’s tongue, but as if sensing it, you rush to reassure him.

”ah, but this is fine too! they should still taste good!” you turn away, muttering. ”… hopefully.”

then you nod to yourself, crossing your arms absentmindedly. 

satoru looks at you for a second. 

then he steps forward, unable to resist the temptation — tapping at your wrist with the pads of his fingers, before gently curling them around it, coaxing you into turning your head towards him.

the kiss he presses to your lips is soft, delicate. his fingers trace along your jaw, cupping your cheek and tilting your face up slightly, just letting his warm lips rest against yours. sweet and chaste. he sighs into the kiss, content, and feels your pulse pick up.

then he moves down to your jaw, slow and methodical — lazy kisses, sleepy but so full of affection. and little pecks, scattered all over your lips, your cheek, the tip of your nose.

you seem to melt a little, against him, and satoru relishes in it; his ability to make you relax. far more valuable than the six eyes, he would argue.

when he pulls away from you, with what takes tremendous self-restraint, he’s smiling. his gaze meets yours, layered over with pure adoration, blue eyes crinkling as he looks at you. as if you’re his entire world. the kitchen light embraces him, cascading down the contours of his face; the bridge of his nose, the curve of his jaw, his barely noticeable dimples.

and there it is, again — that flicker of love in your eyes, that adoration. as if you’re looking at a painting, something too beautiful for words.

(satoru hopes you can see that very same adoration, reflected in his eyes as he looks at you.)

after a moment, he leans forward, to rest his jaw on the curve of your shoulder. you stumble a little under the weight, caged in as his arms hug your midriff.

”god,” he sighs, breathless, heavy with giddy disbelief. almost whining when he continues, nuzzling into your neck as if to hide. ”why are you so perfect, huh? i don’t get it.”

at that, you huff out a laugh, an amused little breath. wrapping your arms around his neck and scratching softly at his nape. satoru shudders just a little, arms tightening around you.

”stealing my line…” you mutter, accusatory, smile laced over with a honeyed affection. 

another amused breath, this time from him. this is one battle he won’t let you win. ”nah,” he grins, tugging you closer. ”’s mine.”

this is warm, he thinks. this feels right. complete, in a way that satoru never understood before you.

he could probably stand there forever, just basking in it. soaking up your body heat and the smell of your shampoo. until your warmth is all he knows, until he can never get your scent off his skin.

and satoru thinks that he could get used to this. a cotton candy sweet, light as a feather kind of love, one that smells like spring and tastes like strawberry shortcakes and feels like tight hugs shared in kitchens.

your love makes him feel so human. and it’s scary, terrifying even, but it's also too good to pass up. it’s worth the risk. so worth everything.

a yawn leaves your lips, suddenly. satoru feels you soften in his embrace, nuzzling closer to him, stumbling just a tad; he doesn’t think it’s fair, for such a simple gesture to make him as happy as it does.

”sleepy?” he coos, smile giddy and fond. ”let’s go to bed, okay? no more sleeping on the kitchen table, silly.”

a disgruntled little huff resounds throughout the air, as you let your arms fall to your sides. ”that’s on you,” you declare, poking the plush of his chest with your finger. ”i only fell asleep because you took so long.”

a teasing glint flickers in satoru’s eyes.

”wanted to see me that badly, huh?” he coos. you roll your eyes, and he pulls your cheek. ”that’s cute.”

”so what if i did?”

satoru stills. you’re smiling, a little mischievous, but mostly sincere. and it really is very unfair of you, he thinks — to do this to him while his guard is down. 

but he manages to pull himself together, raising an amused eyebrow and booping your nose in a way that catches you off guard. blinking up at him, eyelashes fluttering. 

satoru clears his throat. ”well, that’s sweet.”

then he turns on his heel, suddenly, and strolls over to the fridge. ”but you know what’s even sweeter?” he chirps, fingers curling around the handle as he swiftly pulls it open. 

licking his lips, absentmindedly, his eyes trail over all the different pastries. so close yet so far, just out of reach; his fingers move forward, towards that mesmerizing slice of strawberry shortcake —

”— no.”

a hand settles on satoru’s waist, and tugs him away from his well-deserved prize. taking advantage of his momentary surprise, you close the fridge decisively, and give him an unimpressed raise of your eyebrow.

satoru whines, loud and grating. pouting sweetly, trying to make you feel bad. ”c’mon, just one bite —”

”no.”

”but they’re for me!”

”they’re for you to eat tomorrow. i was only gonna let you eat them tonight if you were on the brink of starvation, or something.”

”i am!”

”so the takeout was a lie?” you narrow your eyes at him, suddenly suspicious. ”have you been skipping meals, again?”

satoru pauses. weighing his options. ”well, no, but…”

”— then no.”

another soft whine. you turn away from him, when he tilts his head and gives you his best set of puppy dog eyes. in fear of giving in to them, satoru knows, as you have so many times before. ”please?” he tries, to no avail.

”you’re not eating sweets before bed, satoru,” you deadpan, and his smile falls further, exaggerated. ”and no, we are not having that conversation again.”

he can tell you’re trying to sound stern, but a giggle tumbles from your lips nonetheless, at the ridiculousness of the situation. keeping a grown man away from your fridge, knowing that he’ll wolf down every pastry he sees and get himself sick if you don’t. all while the man in question whines at you in protest, frowing so deeply, disappointment evident on his features.

(except satoru really isn’t very disappointed at all. like this, he gets to stare at your smile all he wants, after all; knowing you won’t notice it, too busy trying to keep yourself from giving in to his pleas.)

he tries again, one last time. just because he knows it’ll make you laugh. you do, a little exasperated, and satoru couldn’t be happier. 

and he thinks to himself that if this is what love is, if this is what it’s supposed to feel like, then it can’t possibly be that much of a curse. 

maybe he should revise the hypothesis, get a second opinion. he’ll have to ask you tomorrow, over pastries and coffee, and hear what you have to say.

as you both stumble to the bedroom, sleepy and a little delirious, satoru thinks that maybe this is enough; the lighthearted banter, the fond laughter. everything good and real and normal, within the space of your apartment, a home he never thought he’d have.

(and maybe, a second opinion isn’t necessary, after all. maybe it doesn’t really matter if love is a curse or not, as long as he gets to share it with you, like this.)

that night, satoru dreams. curled up with you beneath the blankets, limbs tangled together, as if he could never be close enough.

he dreams of kitchen lights, of sweet treats and warm hands. of spring breezes, and a love he’s finally beginning to accept for what it is:

good. wholly and thoroughly.

[liminalmemories21]

Ficlet (911 - Buck/Tommy)

Inspired by this thirst trap

(and @cecilyv said this was sufficient unto itself and didn't need to go further)

He's three hours into a 48 when he gets the first one.

He's used to a string of texts, voice messages, videos from Evan when he gets back to base and has time to check his phone.  Doesn't think twice about clicking on this one.  Stares at it open mouthed, and then hits play again immediately.

Lucy peers over his shoulder and gives a low whistle.  "Damn."

From across the break room Garvey calls out.  "Share with the class."  When Tommy flips him off he adds.  "It's your duty."

He looks up at that.  "It's my duty to share the thirst traps my boyfriend sends me?"

Knows it was a mistake when Garvey gets up and comes over to lean against the back of the couch to try and see his phone.  He twists his head.  "Didn't know you played for this team, Garvey."

Garvey shoves at his shoulder.  "I don't, but I'm bored, and I wanna see what's making Donato's eyes bug out."  And, well, as thirst traps go it's ... well he's not sure what it is, but it's not showing anything Garvey couldn't see if he showed up at the 118 gym, so...  He hits play.

It is, technically speaking, a thirst trap.  Evan is shirtless, just wearing thin well worn sweatpants - and, Tommy suspects from how low they hang, nothing else.  Acres of skin and tattoos on display.  He's also vacuuming.  Garvey blinks at him when the video ends.  Finally says, in a faintly shocked tone.  "Kinky."

Tommy has to laugh.  Doesn't think much of it.  Except, there's another one waiting for him when he gets back to base.  This time Evan's folding a fitted sheet.  Tommy recognizes it as one of his, and then recognizes the edge of his couch behind Evan, and realizes he's used the key Tommy gave him a few months ago to go and do his laundry.  To be fair Evan'd had an equal hand in getting those sheets dirty, but still the thought of getting to go home at the end of his 48 to clean sheets, and clean towels, and neatly folded laundry, and, knowing Evan, a fridge full of neatly portioned food is ... it makes something warm curl and stretch in his heart, like a contented cat.  He doesn't need to be taken care of, he's been on his own for decades.  But, someone who wants to take care for him, that's something he'd been starting to think he'd never get to have.

They come at irregular intervals after that - Evan baking, Evan washing the dishes, Evan setting up coffee - always shirtless, always in those low slung pajama pants that get lower with each video.  If Garvey keeps looking over his shoulder eventually he might see something that'll scar him.  Tommy will enjoy it though. 

Garvey peers at the one of Evan washing dishes, and says dubiously, "And this does it for you?"

It does actually, to an embarrassing degree, but he doesn't actually feel like sharing that particular fact.  Lucy unexpectedly comes to his rescue, elbows Garvey sharply.  "Nothing is hotter than a man who does housework."

Garvey looks skeptical.  "Yeah, you think Carol would think it's hot if I did the dishes just wearing my boxers?"

Lucy and Marcus both snort.  Marcus slaps Garvey on the back.  "Garvey, you do the dishes without being asked and Carol's gonna call me and ask if you had a head injury recently she doesn't know about."  Which is rude, but fair.

He texts Evan / you're getting quite a following over here / .... / you might have to start an OnlyFans page /

/ Only fan I'm interested in is you / is the response he gets back instantly

[clownsuu]

Can I just say, I find it really funny that in your Mob!AU, Howdy and Barnaby get more/have been getting more like, implicit ship content than Howdy and Wally do given you're basically the Wallypillar guy

I absolutely love how wholesome howdy and Wally are, but I am a S U C K E R for tsundere characters- (even tho like- Howdy and Wally have multiple ship dynamics and one of them just so happens to make Howdy pretty tsundere- I need to draw that more actually it sounds really funny and cute-)

Did a tiny bit o ask answerin JDHFHFJ

U g h g o d- yeah Home would definitely be the type to wake up hella fuggin early on a weekend, open up all the windows, doors etc, blare the radio (all in spanish), make the house REEK of fabuloso (specifically lavender), move furniture EVERYWHERE (even outside if there is not enough room), and do a lil wiggle to his favorite songs while cleaning-

I’m not traumatized I swear-

Thankfully he wouldn’t be the type to barge into your room and start vacuuming and making a shid ton of fuggin noises- for Wally the most he’d do, specially if Wally is “sleeping”, is just take the dirty laundry basket and gently close the door. Some days he’d probably dump all the freshly cleaned clothes on Wally, engulfing him in absolute fresh laundry w a r m t h (both a blessing and a curse)

[juanarc-thethird]

To do list

Early in the morning at the Knightshade household.

Jaune just woke up, still a little sleepy. He goes into the kitchen, makes himself a cup of coffee, and looks at the list of chores for the week. Not noticing that Blake is secretly spying on him.

Jaune: *Yawn* Let's see what I have to do this week.

Blake: 👀

To do list:

Blake: ◻️Clean the bathroom & kitchen ◻️Take out the trash ◻️Cook

Jaune: ◻️Groceries ◻️Do the laundry ◻️ Vacuum rooms ◻️ Dishes ◻️ Tie her up and fuck her brains out.

Jaune: Wait a minute

Blake: 😨‼️

Jaune: I did the laundry yesterday.

He says while crossing said task off the board.

Blake: 😈

[humiliatemeplesse]

When your roommate caught you sniffing his dirty socks he got really mad and grabbed them and shoved them in your mouth, down your throat, and practically choked you to death with them. Then he beat the shit out of you. He said he didn't mind having a fag roommate, he thought for a fag you were a pretty cool guy, but this changed all of that. At first he was going to throw you out of the apartment and then he thought better of it. Instead he made you give him foot massages every day with his sweaty stinking socks on but he never let you sniff them. Never. And he bought a laundry bin with a lock on it and kept them in there so you could never sniff them when he wasn't around again. Then he started to make you do things, telling you to do them in a very dictatorial manner. After what he did to you you were now afraid of him so you did whatever he said. "You clean the bathroom every weekend from now on." "You do the dishes and keep the kitchen clean at all times." "Vacuum and dust the place every weekend." "Pick me up this list of stuff at the grocery store." And so on. Essentially you had become his bitch, his slave. He slowly converted you to be under his control. He had no respect for you after he caught you sniffing his dirty socks that day. And once and a while he'd even hit you when he was pissed off or you didn't do something to his standards or quick enough. And once, only once, he said to you that if you even tried to move out he'd find you and beat you to death. You could tell by the tone of his voice and the look in his eyes that he was serious. You were his prisoner until he said otherwise. You were hopelessly trapped.

[st4rgrl4l1f3]

Alejandro who would watch you sway to music as you washed the dishes, humming the lyrics, focused on the task at hand. He’d come up behind you, placing his hands on your hips. It was almost like his hands were meant to be there; snug on either side of you, warmth radiating off his body as he smiled softly, swaying to the music with you.

“No te importa que me una a vosotros, ¿verdad?” (You don’t mind if I join you, do you?) He’d whisper softly in your ear, his penetrating, deep voice filling your left ear.

“I don’t mind at all.”

“Good.”

You’d eventually reach the last dish to clean, Alejandro’s forehead on your shoulder, still swaying softly with you. He’d take in your scent; the smell of the laundry detergent lingering on your clothing, your signature perfume you put on every day, the natural smell of your body. He loved it, and he loved you.

You turned around, looking into his eyes. Copper, sage, and sweet, golden honey. They weren’t just brown; they were earthy, a deep chocolate that would linger on your tongue, that you’d smell in a different room, the bitterness and sweet aftertaste so, so charming.

He took your hand, his smile deepens with affection. You dance around your kitchen, spinning, small steps in sync with his, your eyes going from his hair, inky, straight strands falling onto his forehead. To his lips, twisted into a sweet smile, his white teeth glistening under the light.

“Te quiero, my dear.” (I love you, my dear.)

“Yo también te quiero, Alejandro.” (I love you too, Alejandro.)

—————

John Price who came home and saw his pretty fiancée cleaning the living room, blankets nearly finished in the dryer, candles lit, the big 75’ TV off, floor vacuumed without a trace of a crumb. You looked up at him, whom was watching you with a smile on his face, arms crossed and his icy, gunmetal blue eyes. John took off his hat, setting it down beside him. Short, chestnut brown hair a bit disheveled from his hat.

“I see you’ve been workin hard. Thank you, hon.” His voice was hoarse, but sincere.

You give him a smile, eyes tired, cheeks flushed from the lifting and moving you did. The dryer beeps downstairs in the basement, your face relaxing. “I’m gonna go get the blankets.”

He nods, saying nothing else. John opened your pantry, lined with canned goods, heads, and sweets. He was looking for something specific, though deciding on a few select candies. Ones that were rich with chocolate, strong flavors that would satisfy your long day of cleaning. He pops a bag of popcorn, turning on your favorite movie on the big TV you paid for, sitting on the couch you’ve had for years that has never failed to comfort you.

The soft patting of your feet up the stairs makes his smile deepen. He pours the popcorn into a glass bowl, sitting on the couch and waiting for you, snacks in hand.

“The blankets are so warm, it’ll be really nice..” You look at the set up he’s got, walking a bit slower. You smile deeply—

“Figured you’d like this after you cleaned the whole house, yeah?”

It was a small gesture, but it was enough for your heart to be filled with joy and love. The warm, soft gray blanket you had just pulled out of the dryer covered the both of you, a strong, long arm coming out to pull you in closer. As you watched your movie, John watched you in his arms. Smiling, calm, and happy. And it made it all worth it, over and over again. His soon-to-be wife, cuddled up in his arms, and nobody was going to hurt you there.

—————

Gaz has always found himself to be a little more quiet than the rest. It’s not something that is a big deal, or that he’s insecure about, he’s just always noticed that whilst his friends, teammates, and acquaintances were talking, laughing and sipping on their drinks a mile a minute, he was sitting or standing, watching a tv, maybe on his phone, every once in a while someone would strike up a conversation, though it never lasted all that long.

When he met you, yes he was still reserved, obviously opening up a bit more. But his love language was small, kind gestures like a candy you had mentioned you liked, being on the counter after his grocery run, or a new pair of tights after you’d accidentally hooked yours on a thorn.

He’d notice small things about you, like how your hair would grow and grow, booking you an appointment to a hairdresser to get a trim. He’d notice the fact that you haven’t eaten today, making you a nice little lunch.

So when he made you upset on a particularly bad day, he apologized, which was enough for you. After work, all you wanted to do was shower and watch the new season of your favorite show.

But his apology wasn’t enough for him. That same night, he booked a luxury spa. Did he care it was $168? Not one bit. He woke you up with flowers on your bedside, pretty daisies that were a pale yellow in the middle, milky, soft white petals protruding from the center. He bought you that one game you’ve been wanting. You want it? He’s buying it. He let you pick out clothes, carry your bags, drive you around and take you for a restaurant of your choosing.

“Kyle, why are you doing this?” You asked, a sincere smile on your face.

“I didn’t feel okay even after you accepted my apology, so I wanted to make you happy in another way.”

“Kyle, you didn’t have to—“

“Maybe you think that, but it’s what I felt I had to do.”

—————

Soap who quite literally comes home and is surprised to see you. Every day.

You’re his wife? You, an absolute gem of a human being, a strong, independent, intelligent, fucking gorgeous person, is with him?! You could’ve done SO much better.

He brags about his pretty wife, pride written all over his body. Smiling, chest puffed out, arms crossed.

“She’s jus’ perfect. Never met anyone like ‘er. Patches me up an’ scolds me, but she’s beautiful while doin’ it. She’s damn near perfect.”

He’d ramble on and on about you, never stopping, even if he’s talking to himself now.

Women hitting on him whilst he’s out? Nope. He’s opening his phone up, showing you off to the girl that attempted to flirt with him.

“Yeah, that’s her. She’s perfect.”

“Oh um, sorry I didn’t know you had a girlfr—“

“Actually, she’s my wife.” He was quick to cut the woman off, the phrase “she’s my wife” bouncing off his head and into his heart, making him all giddy inside.

Coming home to you was the best. He’d wrap his arms around you in the tightest hug,

“Aaah! I missed ya so much, you know that?!” He’d smoosh his face into you, breathing you in and then going to kiss your cheek, down to your pretty lips.

—————

Ghost who would let you take care of him, loving when you scolded him for not doing it himself.

Ghost has never really thought of himself, throwing away all of his life at an attempt to help something that wasn’t guaranteed to do any good.

Coming home to you after a long day, he’s covered in grime. Bloody mask and uniform, mud drying and hardening onto his clothes.

“Evenin, hon.” He’d say, gruff voice greeting you.

You turned back to look at him, only for your eyes to widen. “Shower, now.”

“That’s an understandable reaction.” He’d quickly respond, but to his surprise, you followed him in.

“What’re you doin?” He’d question.

You took off his mask, inky, sticky, eyeblack smeared on it. Taking a damp towel, you wiped it off, giving you easier access to where exactly his wounds were.

“You have got to be more careful out there, Ghost! Look at you, you are covered in blood.”

“It ain’t mine.”

“Still, look at your face.” You cupped his cheeks, his face cold and your hands warming them. “You are covered in bruises and cuts.”

He stayed silent, letting you pat at the wounds before putting a thick, white ointment on that stung a bit, then covering him in bandages.

“There. Now you promise me to be more careful! And take a shower…Promise me that too.”

“I promise, honey.” He said, looking down at you with deep amber eyes.

“Good.”

He watches you walk out of the bathroom, a soft smile creeping onto his lips. You were adorable like that, scolding him to no end. He chuckled a bit.

“Oh man. I’m in deep now.”

—————