#i'm giving u a heart back<3

[rosedom]

Thank you sm for giving me a pass on the alphabet event !

The alphabets that I sent you (but failed, sadly) are : I, O, T, W with diluc ! I hope this isn't too many letters :(

Thank you sm for letting me send another ask rosey ^°>♡<°^ (this is an emote of giving a heart if you cant see it)

"you have summoned DILUC for the event . . ."

A/N: of course, sweet thing !! (⁠＾⁠∇⁠＾⁠)⁠ﾉ⁠♪ stuff happens, and i'm excited to do diluc .3.

✦ㅤㅤI = intimacy (how is he during the moment? the romantic aspect !)

congrats, you've bedded the diluc ragnvindr: the eligible bachelor of mondstadt. all these women—these men, these neithers and all inbetween—have fawned over diluc, yet none has captured his heart the way you have, and you're the one towering over him in bed, now, as he looks up at you with those bright, ruby, bedroom eyes. he looks at you like you hung the moon and the stars and all the things in the universe—the truest essence of a romantic, truly.

he is romantic in the way he holds you so tenderly, cupping you in his palms and dragging his fingers along your skin slowly, reverently. gladly, eagerly, he would lay himself at the feet of your alter in order to revere you. diluc, too, is romantic in the way he says your name, over and over again, each one a pretty, pretty gasp or a gentle plea for more, for you. and, if he calls you sweet names in that limited space of mind he has left as you fuck him open on your cock, well. that's all 'cos he loves you so.

✦ㅤㅤO = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

i wholeheartedly believe that diluc—adorable, "aloof" diluc—has teyvat's nastiest oral fixation. that manifests, usually, in his need to have your fingers in his mouth, pressing down on his tongue; or your skin against his lips as he suckles bruise after bruise into your skin. you should've expected, really, that the same would apply to his incessant need to have you heavy across his tongue. he loves the weight of your cock against him, the taste of you heady and mind-numbing to his already cotton-filled brain. he'll cockwarm you with his mouth for hours, heedless of anything else but you.

his skill on you, however, is . . . minimal, to say the least. he's certainly not winning any cherry-stem tying awards with that tongue n' mouth of his, but it's alright ! he pleases you plenty, just the way he is<3 it's these small suckles of his, the way his tongue presses against you and drags along your length, these small patterns that really aren't there to get you off but to instead ground your darling diluc.

as for receiving ,, hell, is diluc a sucker for it. he always shies away at first, saying, "no, you don't need to—" but it comes out shaky, each and every time, as you're already nosing at the seam of his pants, of his briefs, of his bare cunt depending. for as much as he loves having his mouth on you, nothing compares to the pleasure that fills him head-to-toe when you're upon him, tonguing at his cock and his leaky hole, even down to his perineum and his pretty ass. while giving you head always makes him syrupy-slow, blood slow but thick in his veins, you giving him head always makes his blood pound in his ears, makes his body jerk in overwhelm at the sensations running through him.

✦ㅤㅤT = toys (does he own toys? does he use them? how often? on a partner or himself?)

reserved has he is, diluc doesn't often allow himself to indulge in . . carnal pleasures. that, and the fact that adelinde tends to barge into his room (she's the only maid he allows the privilege. something about the idea of his mother figure finding a sex toy of his . . . yeah, no). it's left him to get pretty crafty, then, in those days where he's too high-strung, too pent up with the idea of you or with the simple heft of all that heavy work weighing down on him. busy a man as he is, he still feels the pulls of something carnal in his gut.

when that pull gets too intense to keep under wraps, diluc takes to the pillow (if it's the one you sleep on in the past ,, well). he tucks the pillow between his thighs, humps it desperately, maybe slips a hand down the front of his briefs to get his fingers on the throbbing head of his cock. he cums quickly but quietly this way, his orgasm washing over him in gentle waves. it's never earth shattering like this, but it's enough to make the heat in his veins slow n' cool down, just slightly—enough to get through to the next week.

so, not sex toys: only improv.

✦ㅤㅤW = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

diluc needs to be touching you at all times; he can absolutely not be apart from you, from foreplay and straight through 'til sleeping post-aftercare. because of this, you cannot truly "surprise" him with touches, and that's alright. you adapt, and he loves the way he gets to touch you and how you touch him. being able to predict where your hands will press, where your lips will kiss—it's comforting as it is arousing.

with this, sensory deprivation—blindfolds, namely, or even a gag—can only be done when you're careful to always be pressed close to him in some way, some fashion; and when you do this right, boy, it's right. he fucking loves being helpless yet trusting you wholly to treat him right<33 you may not have expected diluc to be so clingy, but it makes perfect sense, really, once you really think about it. all the people closest to him, he has let go of; he never wants to let you go, too.

i got a lil' carried away with oral. haha. um . . .

2 MAY 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

[bylertruther]

thinking about how lonnie only ever cared about will when he died and that was just to profit off of his death + will giving a girl he doesn't know his toy truck just because she's crying and he thinks she needs it more even if he knows joyce can't buy him another one + one of the very first things will did upon waking up in the hospital was ask if jonathan was okay + will telling them to close the gate in season two even though he's part of the hivemind and that would've killed him, too + will breaking his own heart by confessing his feelings and giving mike the painting he's spent so long on but saying that all of it came from el thus sacrificing his own wants and self to again help others + how that same selflessness and self-sacrificing nature of his is going to undoubtedly rear its head in season five again because he's at the center of it all and it all goes back to him and vecna is a creature that feeds off of n fans the flames of pain and guilt... feelin very scared n anxious in this chili's tonight over this actually 😳

[ghost-proofbaby]

Hi! I hope your day's going well :) If it's not too weird to ask, I've seriously always wondered, how long have you been writing for? What made you fall in love with it? And what were your biggest inspirations?

It's legit been on my mind since TSIB when I noticed immediately that your writing carried a lot of love inside of it! It's had me curious ever since.

hello!! i’ve just woken up, and so far so good haha <3 i hope your day is also wonderful!!

this definitely isn’t too weird to ask!!! this feels like a slightly cop out answer, but i’ve been writing for nearly as long as i can remember. i was always just writing really silly things, stories between me and my friends and such. i think the first solid memory i have of anyone ever saying “hey, you have some real talent here” was in 6th grade honestly. it was a silly story for school where we were writing about candy bars of all things, and my teacher took me aside to talk to me about it, and i fully thought i was getting in trouble. i wrote my first fully finished story at 11/12, though, so i guess if i had to put a number on it all.... like 12-13 years? oof. god, that's a long time.

as for what made me fall in love with it - i was always a reader first and foremost. it was a really natural transition for me. in the 5th grade, i remember reading the series "Cirque Du Freak: The Saga of Darren Shan" (which 10/10 recommends for older kids. clearly, the vampire obsession started young.) and just thinking "hey, i wanna write stuff like this!" and so i just... did. and i loved it. i loved creating characters and making my own worlds, getting just as lost in the writing as i could in books. and my writing was bad, make no mistake, but it was mine. i think i always sort of knew i wasn't going to be a rocket science, or a math genius, or a nobel prize winner, but suddenly i had found something that just sort of clicked for me. i was creating. regardless if it was good and regardless if other people were reading/enjoying, i was creating. and that just felt right. it still feels right. since i started writing at 11, i don't think there's been a time in my life where i haven't been consistently writing something. there's been lapses where i stopped sharing, or felt utterly defeated, or just felt stuck in my skill set, but i never really stopped. stories, poetry, songs - i'm just always writing as an escape. i've also had a discussion with a therapist regarding how i feel like my writing is all i have to offer. for the life of me, i can't remember the author/origin of the quote (nor the quote exactly), but there's this poetic bit where a woman is actually speaking to her therapist, and she says something along the lines of "it has to be good. because it is a part of me." essentially, she was saying she finds herself to be nothing good, something rotten, and so she needs her writing to be worth it because it's inherently a part of her. as though her writing is an apology for all that she is. and i guess i love writing because it gives me that chance to apologize - a chance to say "sorry i'm not always worth it, but here's something to make up for it. here's the one thing i can give to you."

my biggest inspirations to this day still remain other writers/creative individuals! i think it's hard as a writer to not be a reader, y'know? i tend to apply the whole "never be satisfied, never just settle" tactic to a lot of my life - always strive to be kinder, always strive to improve my writing, etc. i find a lot of inspiration in music since that's a huge part of my life along with all the writing/reading, and i also find a lot of inspiration in my own life experiences. usually the more unpleasant ones. (oh, how gross, i fall into the tortured artist stereotype. wah.) i think that's why i enjoy fandom so much, though! i'm surrounded by all these talented individuals who constantly take my breath away with their talent, with their big beautiful brains, and it encourages me to want to be better. to be able to offer something just as beautiful and stunning as they do.

also, complete transparency? the community i've managed to build. you guys. those of you who have taken a chance on me and my words, and enjoyed them. the people who get excited for the next updates on my stories and the people who will squeal back and forth (whether in real life or in person) about these characters, these worlds, with me. it's not so much the 'fame', because it feels wonderful regardless of if it's thousands of people or only 2 people, but just... that connection, y'know? it feels like tangible proof to say "hey, my words are worth something. i could be remembered." does that sound narcissistic? god, i truly hope that doesn't sound narcissistic.

anyways, sorry, this is a terribly long word vomit haha. probably not what you signed up for at all when you sent the ask, nonnie. my apologies! i just really, really love writing/reading. and i can't explain how happy it makes me that that translate into my works. thank you - for reading my words, for caring, and for sharing that joy with me <3

[toxicanonymity]

omg the way every inch makes me drool idk what u did to me i haven’t been the same since 😃 ur so talented i owe u my kidney for that fic alone ! would ever consider part two?? no pressure !!!

EVERY INCH 2

2200 words, m!ghostface x f!reader

follows Every Inch. NEXT: Every inch 3

SUMMARY: Last time you saw ghostface, he was unconscious from the car wreck and you had your way with him. Now, he's coming to take what's his. A/N: He's never unmasked so ANY Ghostface with a 🍆. Thank you so much for all the love on my first Ghostface fic. This was a "one shot fail" because of the engagement & enthusiasm so keep that in mind. night walks coded. WARNINGS: I8+ piv, noncon, ghostface calls himself daddy once, peeping tom, dirty talk, masturbation (both), knifeplay, hair pulling, manhandling, choking kinda, degradation, pet names (baby, sugar, nasty). NO USE OF Y/N. 

You've put Ghostface behind you, at least in terms of fearing for your life. He's finally left you alone. He must be too humiliated to face you after you restrained him and had your way with him in the car while he was passed out. You still look at the picture you took every day.  You'd like to get it printed and stick it on your bathroom mirror.  He looks so pathetic with his own mess all over his robe. But it's not just the humiliation you love to see. It's his cock. . .

Yeah, his cock.  You've thought about it more than a few times. He would've given you every inch. All you had to do was ask. And the video of him whimpering? You save that for special occasions. Like when you need to cum in a hurry. 

It's Friday night and you're lying in bed after getting home from seeing a movie.  You make sure your vibrator is charged before you start reading, but soon enough you get distracted.  You're looking at your video of Ghostface coming all over himself when a call pops up on the screen. No ringtone.  Your phone is still on silent from the theater.  

The restricted number still makes your heart jump even after such an empowering victory. But you rip the bandaid off and answer it on the first ring. "Hello?"

"So... how'd you like the movie?" the voice changer asks you. 

You panic and hang up, but when he calls right back, you answer again. "This isn't funny, whoever you are."

"You know it's me, baby. You feel it in your. . . pants."

"What do you want?"

"I asked how you liked the movie." 

Friday night. Lucky guess. You know he’s not going to let it go, so you might as well answer. You’re not going to give him the satisfaction of acting aghast that he knows what you did tonight.  "Fine, I liked it. It was fun,” you say dismissively. 

"Picked a bad time to refill your drink. . .  Missed a great kill."

Your heart jumps. ". . .you were there?" The theater wasn't even that crowded. How could he go undetected? Surely you would have recognized something about a man you rode into oblivion. 

He's bemused. "What, you thought I was gone? Nowhere?”

"wishful thinking," you reply. 

Ghostface says, “Oh, we both know what you really wish for. . .”

You’re not even going to argue. 

“How was your date?" 

"How was yours with your hand?" You retort.

"You didn't look interested.” 

"What, are you gonna ask me out?" Your face heats up as you hear your own words.

"Not tonight. 'Cause you've got a date with that toy and my picture, don't ya?”

You freeze. 

He taunts, "Want a third wheel?"

You ask, "How long have you been watching me?"

"Never stopped, sugar." You feel like a fool for thinking he had. “I’ve just been a little. . . distracted.” 

You scoff. 

". . . Okay, did you call just to talk?"

"Wanted some audio with my visual this time."

"Pervert."

“oh I'm the pervert," he chides. Your face is burning up.

"You know, you’ve still got something of mine.”  His knife. You’ve hid it somewhere special.  “Keep comin’ for it. . .but don’t wanna interrupt you.”  

You look out your window, which faces the woods.  "Cause you put on a good show, baby." There’s never been a reason to close the curtains.  You preferred to see danger coming. Danger like him. A lot of good that’s done you. 

“You’re a creature of habit, aren’t you?” 

Are you that predictable?  

“Lucky for me,” he adds darkly.  His breathing becomes audible.  “Oh, you like this, don't you . . . knew ya would. . .  .  .Dripping already.” His voice is steady through the equalizer, but his speech pattern tells you his dick is hard. And god damn if he isn’t turning you on. 

“Dip a finger and show daddy how wet you are.” 

Before you know it, you're doing it. You don’t show him, but you curiously dip you fingers and pull apart the clear string of of your arousal

“Two fingers . . let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”  You lie there clenching your thighs together. 

“Ah, fuck it. Go ahead, turn it on,” he says but you don’t move. You clench your thighs together.  “Turn it on,” he repeats firmer, and something possesses you to turn your vibrator on. 

“Yeah, that’s it . . .”

You don’t even need the picture now, or the video, or your reading. But you don’t exactly want to let him make you come this fast. 

He sighs and says, “You’ve got a nice, juicy pussy." He spits, which the voice changer doesn’t process.

You close your eyes and recall what it felt like impaling yourself on his cock. 

"You don't have to say it," he reassures you menacingly. "I know I’ve got a nice cock.” 

He’s right about that.  You close your eyes as you touch yourself.  You’re too horny to think straight, but in the back of your mind, you try to tell yourself he killed your friends. He killed your friends. It doesn’t make you any less turned on. You sigh in shame at yourself. How does Ghostface have you wrapped around his finger?

“Oh, it’s only natural, baby. This cock’ll fuck you right up.” God, why does that turn you on? “In the guts and the head.” 

"Real shame I wasn’t awake.” He breathes heavily for a few seconds. "Coulda been even better for you.” 

You fail to suppress a moan as heat is bubbling in your core. 

“Yeah. . .Can’t stop thinkin' about this cock, can ya?” 

You turn up the intensity of your vibe. 

“Not everyday someone takes every inch of this.” He moans weakly then spits again. “Filthy girl.  Swallowed it right up.” 

“So tell me, sugar," his breathing is even heavier now. "How do you want it?”

“What if i don’t” you lie, then gasp at the tension in your core.

“Then why’d you take it,” he says with a bite and the heavy breathing stops. 

“Because,” you pant. “It was there.”

You’re getting close.  “How do you want me,” you self-loathingly ask. He doesn’t answer. You look at your phone and he’s gone. Shit. You open the video you took of him and as soon as you hear him whimper, your body jerks as the tension bursts inside you. As soon as you finish pulsing, the regret hits you like a tidal wave. So fucked up. Soooo disgusting.  You need a shower. 

—---

You take a long, hot shower, listening to music. You sigh, feeling a little better already. You turn off the water.

“Soaking wet. That’s how I want you.” You freeze and the only sound is the dripping water for a few seconds while the song changes.  

“Come on, you’re smarter than this.” The voice changer echoes through your bathroom and you almost fall over. “What’s next? Going down to the basement?”

You stand silently in the shower with your heartbeat echoing in your ears.  There’s nothing you can do.  You squat down, hugging your knees.  There’s no good option.   

The shower curtain slowly draws open and he looms above you.

“My turn, baby."  The glint of a knife–your own kitchen knife–catches your eye. He tilts his head slightly and observes you for a moment.  Then he pulls your hair and violently forces you to your feet. You begin to slip and he catches you, then manhandles you out of the tub and you whimper. You’re thrashing around wet and naked.  He drags you to the bathroom sink and puts you between him and the sink, both of you facing the mirror. He reaches out and wipes the mirror with his robe to make sure you can see. 

The sight is surreal. You’re completely nude with Ghostface up against you.  One gloved hand cups your breast while the other raises the knife.  He stays behind you and holds your own kitchen knife to your throat.  

He inhales audibly. “So clean and so filthy.”  

You elbow him in the gut. “Let go of me.” 

“Afraid not, baby. . .” The hand leaves your breast and slides lower.  He presses on your hip, bringing you tight against him. “Too late now.” His hips push forward and the massive shape of his hard cock makes you weak. 

He holds you still with just one of his big arms as you struggle.  “Coulda had it how ya wanted.” 

The unwelcome throb between your legs is spreading through your abdomen. 

“Now you’re gonna take it right here.”  He keeps you pinned to the counter, the arm with the knife holding you still while he lifts his robe and tugs his PJ pants down.  “You’ve put me behind you after all.”  He jerks you back against him, pulling you off the counter and holding you tight against his hard dick.  He lightly trails the tip of the knife down your cleavage and your stomach, dipping into your belly button on its way down to your mound. Then he holds it handle-up and teases your cunt with the flat of the knife as you watch in the mirror. The cold metal sends a shiver down your spine and you watch your nipples harden.

“Who are you?”

“Your favorite bad guy. Ask me a. . . harder one.” He grinds himself against you.

“What do you want?”

“To know what your insides feel like.” You suck in a deep breath and register the smell of weed as his cock twitches against your bare skin. “When I’m awake,” he adds. 

He pries your legs apart with his knee, then his glove brushes your inner thighs as he aligns his cock at your entrance. “Oh you’re ready ready,” he says. He notches himself with the thick head of his cock resting snug against your wet little hole, then he holds you tight and shoves himself into you with a sigh.  You have to try not to moan with the most welcome stretch. “Hell yeah,” the mask says into your ear. Thank God you’re so wet, because there is a lot of him. He pulls back, then slams into you, bottoming out with a grunt then another sigh. You watch your face in the mirror and try to wipe the enjoyment off it. 

The hand with the knife rests against your chest as he pounds you. “You’re lucky you’re so hot.” You want to memorize the feeling of his cock inside you so you can come to it later instead of giving him the satisfaction right now.  He pants as he thrusts into you harder.  “So. . .damn. . . hot.” You look down watching your breasts jiggle as he rails you. “I don’t think so. . . baby.” He grabs your chin and makes you look back up at the mirror. Your drooping eyelids give away how good you feel. 

“Take it like a bad girl.” He grunts and brutally fucks you in the way you’re afraid only he can. No, no, you shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like this. “A real bad girl.” A climax is gathering in your lower belly.  “Cock hungry little slut,” he bites and it makes you twitch. “This pussy’s mine now, you know.” 

He buries himself inside you for another minute and makes it rough. “Now or never baby," he pants. “Know you wanna come on this cock.” God, you do. “Do it now.”  He slams into you harder than ever and groans as he begins to pulse inside you.  You can’t stop it. The feeling of his climax trips you into your own.  Your needy cunt chokes his cock, milking him of an unfathomable load.  He fucks you through it and your body jerks into his imposing, robed form. His cum is in every crevice of your core.  You can’t help but moan and sigh.

“Good girl,” he says.

His cock slides out of you, leaving a void that slowly caves in on itself. He tucks it back into his pants. 

------

Ghostface forcibly positions your chin to take one last look in the mirror. Then he picks up your phone from the counter and forces you to swipe the camera on.  He points it at the mirror and says, “say cheese.” He tosses your phone back on the counter, then slams you chest-first into the back of the door with an impact. He holds the knife to the side of your neck and says, “you’re welcome.” He really smells like weed.

“Now where’s my knife.”

“I don’t have it,” you claim. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

“What’s so special about it?”

“It’s mine.” 

“The cops have it.” 

“No they don’t. Why are you lying?”

You’re not really sure. He presses the flat of the knife so hard against your throat you start to choke. “Okay,” you manage hoarsely. He lets you breathe.  You look behind him toward the toilet. 

He drags you by the elbow to the toilet. He opens the back of it and the knife is wrapped up in a grocery bag. “You watch too many movies,” he says. He pushes you out of the way, opens the door, and leaves. The song turns to Call Me by Blondie.

NEXT: PART 3

--------------------------

Please engage (reblog/comment)  if you want more of this <333 It might go a long way in motivation.

Yes this is my night walks coded ghostface but I think most people reading this don't know what night walks is lol.

Call Me:This Blog::Red Right Hand:Canon. But in this case it especially makes sense 🥹

@hearteyed-shawty had a song rec last time: I'm Yours by Isabel Derosa.

Slasher master list

@ghostslittlegf @sunflowerleii @igotmajordaddyissues @rileyquinn07

[risaonda]

it sure is 2:40am

[youaresimplylovely]

Fashion n' Cars

Pairings: F1 Grid x Verstappen!Supermodel!Reader Summary: Max Verstappen has a sister who is a famous supermodel but what happens when other F1 drivers start taking interest in her? Warnings: None! fc: Emily Ratajkwoski Proofread!! A/N: Happy 150 followerssss, this is a special post for celebrating our 150 followers. I js wanna say thank you so much for all the support and appreciation. I really do appreciate it, your feedbacks and comments makes my heart flutter. I promise to always give you the best i can and here's to many more <3 and again if u want to be added on my taglist u can input ur user on this form ^^ https://forms.gle/4Pk1HSDjTEg51Xo79

part two part three

ynverstappen

liked by maxverstappen1, charles_leclerc, and 56,347,232 others

 view all comments

maxverstappen1 beautiful but 4th pic was not necessary schat

ynverstappen im a model. It's my job. 😁

maxverstappen1 i'm sorry?? actually no im not sorry, why are you in my sister's instagram??? @charles_leclerc

charles_leclerc magnifique

ynverstappen thank you cha ^_^

maxverstappen1 stay away from my sister.

user not max being protective HAHAHAHAH

user GRAAAA MILANO FASHION WEEK + YN = FIREEEE

user omg did charles js comment :000

f1 can't wait to see you back on track Y/N

maxverstappen1 to see me win 😎

ynverstappen 😂🫡

ynverstappen

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris, and 48,987,743 others

ynverstappen me n' fashion n' cars p.s a big congrats to my brother and to uncle nando and to pierre for a great race <3

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maxverstappen1 dank je schat but where's my picture?

ynverstappen graag gedaan and no <3

fernandoalo_official muchas gracias ☺

pierregasly merci ma belle, c'est merveilleux de te voir à la course

maxverstappen1 back off second french guy

pierregasly you don't speak french.

maxverstappen1 google translate exists.

landonorris was nice seeing you Y/N 🤗

maxverstappen1 stop flirting with my sister kid.

lewishamilton if you're ever looking for a new last name, Hamilton will suit you darling 😍

maxverstappen1 i will crash into you the next race.

carlossainz55 Te ves perfecta en rojo mi amor

maxverstappen1 you're second on my list of "drivers to crash" 😊

user SHUT UP I CAN'T MAX REPLYING TO THE DRIVERS COMMENTS IS SO FUNNY HAHHAHAHA

ynverstappen

liked by carlossainz55, pierregasly, and 60,834,765

ynverstappen he's handsome af

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part two??? :3

TAGLIST

@euphoricchills @charlesleclerx @Inchident-jgp @amethyst-bitch @dr4g0ngirl @likedbygaslyy @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @httpstoyosi @evermore555 @bibissparkles @lokideservesahug @emmy626 @hiireadstuff @urfavouriteanon @darleneslane @anon555xxx @shelbyteller @spookystitchery @bearryyy

[harrysfolklore]

ring hard launch - blurb

the content we got today just SCREAMS fiancé!harry for me so i came up with this, enjoy !

gif by @sunkissedlouis <3

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

If there was something that was definitely at the top of your list of favorite activities, was spending time with Harry.

It didn't matter if it was getting groceries, joining him for a bike ride or simply laying on the couch together, every moment that you spent together brought you contentment and joy that you couldn't find anywhere else.

And now that he was your fiancé, it was safe to say that both of you wanted to be glued to each other every single minute.

Harry proposed the morning of New Year's Eve, in the comfort of your home with both of you in your pajamas as you enjoyed homemade breakfast bagels, and it was absolutely perfect.

Ever since, you had been happier than ever, sharing the news with your family and closest friends and enjoying your engagement in private without prying eyes from paparazzi, fans and media.

"We better win tonight," Your train of thought was interrupted by Harry's voice, you were currently heading to the Luton vs Man United game, and even though you couldn't care less about football, your need to be close to him all the time made you say yes when he asked you to join him, "Thank you for tagging along, baby. I know this is not your scene so it's nice you came."

"I'm just here for the drinks and snacks," you teased, watching him roll his eyes at you, "And to enjoy the evening with my handsome fiancé, of course."

"There we go," he smiled now, grabbing your hand and placing a small kiss to the ring on your finger.

Ever since you got engaged, that had became his favorite habit, and it made your heart flutter every single time.

"It sucks that I have to take it off," you said, making him look at you with a raised eyebrow, "The ring, I mean. I have to take it off before we get out of the car, otherwise headlines will go crazy and Jeff is going to freak out."

"Mm-hmm," he paused to think, eyes darting for the road to you, "What if... you don't have to take it off?"

"What do you mean?" you said, noticing that you were about to enter the back of the stadium.

"I mean..." he grabbed your hand again, tugging the ring affectionately, "What if we let the world know about it? I talked to Jeff and the rest of the team last week, they said we could make it public whenever we felt like it, at our own terms. So why don't we do it today?"

Harry parked the car at the spot that was reserved for him and turned to look at you with a wide smile, waiting for your answer.

"Are you sure?" you smiled back at him, noticing the glow in his eyes that almost made you melt.

"Couldn't be more sure, love. Besides, the album is coming soon and everyone is going to connect the dots as soon as they listen to the first song, might as well give them an early heads up."

"Let's do it," you said, leaning over to kiss him, "I feel like everyone is going to focus on the fact that you're finally outside and with brand new hair, they won't even notice the rock on my finger."

Harry rolled his eyes again and gave you another kiss, "I swear to god, woman. You're something else."

You headed inside of the stadium to the VIP suit you were going to watch the game in, walking hand in hand with your engagement ring glistening on your finger, cameras around filming and taking pictures of both of you.

"Do you think twitter is freaking out yet?" you asked Harry as you settled on your seats.

"No idea, baby, I don't use that app," he shrugged, "Do you want anything to drink?"

"Would you get me something fruity that has alcohol that doesn't quite taste like alcohol? That's the only way I won't be bored to death."

"Sure thing." Harry laughed and kissed the side of your head before standing up to get your drink, coming back a few minutes later with exactly what you asked and a bottle of sparkling water for himself.

"So we're rooting for Man U, right?" you asked as you took a sip from your drink.

"Seven years together, months away from getting married, yet you still don't know I'm a Man U ride or die," he put a hand on his chest, "I don't think this is going to work."

"I was just teasing, drama queen," you pecked his cheek, "I know your true loves are Man U, the Green Bay Packers, peas and Fleetwood Mac."

"And you," he winked, making you roll your eyes with affection and take another sip from your drink.

A few minutes into the game, you found yourself quite invested on it, constantly asking Harry about the stuff you didn't understand and getting nervous when the other team was about to score or your team missed a goal.

"Lord, I don't want to watch," you said as a player from the opposite team was getting ready to hit a penalty, hiding your face against Harry's shoulder, "Harry! You're supposed to be watching the game, you've been staring at me for half of it now."

"Sorry, you're just too cute," he kissed the crown of your head, "You can watch now, he failed it."

"Thank god."

By the end of the game, you were both on your feet, cheering as Man United secured a win. Harry was ecstatic, and you found yourself caught up in the excitement, cheering alongside him.

While you were engulfed in your own bubble during the game, cameras has caught up on the ring of your finger, and Harry and you immediately became a world trending topic, with fans speculating whether you were actually engaged or not.

As you laid in bed scrolling through the millions of tweets about the game Harry finally emerged from the bathroom, ready to get in the covers.

"Are you reading about us?" he asked, sliding into bed beside you.

"Yeah," you replied, showing him some of the tweets, "But I don't think it was quite clear for some of your fans, some of them don't think we're really engaged."

"Well, I guess it'll be clear when the album comes out."

[quimichi]

₊❏❜ ⋮ MEETING THEIR FAMILIES -HEARTSLABYUL VER.

warnings: bad treatment towards reader (Riddles part), bad writing :3

summary: You meet their families

characters: Heartslabyul x F!Reader

word count:

a/n: I originally planned to do all in one part but I decided not to since it's so so much and I'm currently having a writers block but I wanna make you guys happy so-its in parts :(

Riddle

Riddle's mother is a strict woman, and she does not hide her dislike for you. She frowns the moment she sees you and crosses her arms. The situation is tense as she watches you, her gaze sharp and unblinking. She seems to be considering your motives with her son, but it is clear that she has a low opinion of you for some reason.

Riddle is nothing compared to her; he has no power, he's weak standing beside you. Yet, he stands proud, he loves you and no matter what his mother will say, his mind won't change. "Mother," he begins. She shoots a hard look at him. With that stare, she seems to say 'do. not. talk."

Riddle goes silent. He knows that if he does talk, it might ruin her approval...if that will ever happen. But you decided to speak up, nervously, "It's a pleasure to finally meet you! Riddle has told me so many lovely things of you!" you bow down, showcasing your respect. His mother's expression does not change. She seems to consider you for a while before speaking:

"Do you think yourself worthy of my son? Do you think you are a good match for him?"

It's clear that she is sizing you up, and her gaze is piercing.

"Yes." Riddle grabs your hand and gives it a tight squeeze. Showing you his support, no matter what he won't back out either, cause he knows whats coming. Your words only draw a frown from his mother. Her expression turns sour.

"I do not think you can give my son the life he deserves. You are too low class for a nobleman. It is clear why you would date him, but what do you have to offer us? It would disgrace his name and our family to wed a commoner. A magicless commoner!" She continues to size you up. She is relentless. Her frown only hardens with every passing moment.

"My son is a nobleman. He deserves a woman of nobility. Riddle dear, I know the perfect girl for you she-" "No!" His voice rings through the halls with booming thunder.

"How dare you," he shouts, his eyes like daggers. He looks as though every muscle is about to tense up so hard it'll burst. "She is good enough. She is worthy of my love. There is no one in this world who I will ever love and admire more! If you don't agree with this relationship then-!...Then I might just leave.

Riddle is standing protectively in front of you now. His heart is thrumming so hard he can feel each pulse. His last words were spoken unsure, timidly, but it's the truth.

"...Then do."

Trey

Trey's parents are thrilled to meet you. The moment they saw you at their doorstep, they took you into their family. They are gracious hosts, offering you food and drinks as soon as you step into the house. Everything is warm and welcoming. Not to mention the cake they baked for you!

The afternoon tea goes smoothly, with conversation flowing as easily as a river. "Again, thank you so much for the tea and cake! It was absolutely delicious!" "It was nothing," Trey's mother says as she refills your mug. She smiles warmly, keeping herself composed with effort. She has heard a lot about you, after all, and the impression she has received so far has been wonderful. Its hard for her to contain her pure excitement, she might explode. All her husband can do is calm her down with a hand on her shoulder, smiling both at you and his wife.

Trey doesn't dare say anything, his lips pressed shut in a smile as he watches from his place. He doesn't want to draw attention to himself, content to watch you and his parents interact.

"BROTHER!" You hear two voices yell from the hallway...seems his siblings arrived from school. Trey's young siblings finally make their grand entrance, their voices filling the room with an unexpected cacophony of excitement and joy. The scene is a chaotic one, but in a good way.

His younger brother runs up to you immediately, "Oh-Oh-! You're the pretty girl-!" Before you can question anything his sister also tunes in, "Ohhh-! She really does look as sweet as gum drops-!" "You two, shush immediately-! I'm so sorry-!" Trey's mother apologizes for the behavior of her youngest children, but you shake it off. How could you ever be upset about the honesty of those sweethearts. You definitely will have a word with Trey once you get back...

Cater

Cater never kept it a secret, how much he despises his sisters and mother sometimes. More than once he told you stories. But he has also told you that slowly, the relationship gets better...slowly.

Cater's mother is especially overbearing. She tries her best, but she seems almost incapable of not adding only their favorite sweets to the tablem. She is a bundle of nerves, and she often dotes on Cater. It's as if she finds comfort in treating him like a child, because he is so quiet and calm. Yeah, quite and calm, if only they knew who he truly was.

"Thank you so much for having me." a genuine smile sets on your lips as she pours tea into your cup. "We are so glad to have you," Cater's mother says with genuine warmth.

His sisters continue to prod you in both questions and comments, being too forceful and tactless at times. They think they're being endearing and curious, but don't quite realize that they're over stepping. Cater sits beside you, his eyes darting back and forth as the questions keep flowing. Hes annoyed, of course they will ask inappropriate questions and take the attention.

"Where was the first kiss?" "Ohhh my god did he use his tounge?" "Cater, your hair today looks frizzy." "You look cute but...that top with those jeans...i don't know. Cater you should really watch what your girlfriend wears!" "Yeah! Spend some money on her, damn." "Bad boyfriend."

The constant barrage of questions and comments from his sisters would make even the most stoic people wither. You are not one of those people - you are more patient than you ever realized. You smile through the barrage of words, answering most that you can, ignoring the rest. It hurts, some hurt. You get Cater now to 100%. Your calm demeanor and soft eyes would calm anyone's heart, but his sisters are a bit too persistent, their endless questioning seeming to have no end.

This goes on for some time, until Cater is visibly agitated. "Stop," he says under his breath. He is usually calm and collected, so it draws everyone's attention, even his mother's. "What?" One of his sisters finally asks, feigning innocence.

"Enough," he says simply, but his tone is enough to get them to back off.

He takes a few breaths before giving his mother and sisters a smile. The situation diffuses, but you can sense that he is annoyed. "I just wanted to introduce you to my girlfriend, we didnt came here for an interview. Her outfit is perfect, and I'm NOT a bad boyfriend! I know I'm not..."

Ace

Ace's older brother is charming, witty, and well-liked by everyone. He teases his little brother without any cruelty, making lighthearted jokes at his expense. He is very protective of Ace, he just wants his little brother to be happy. And obviously he wants him to behave in this relationship too.

"He has spoken of you a lot," the older brother comments, his tone teasing. His brother wiggles his eyebrows towards him,  "A bit too much, it seems," Ace says, keeping his voice low, but you hear the annoyance.

"I can't help but hear all about you whenever he's calling me... how much he cares for you, how he's so lucky to have you..." his brother's tone is good-natured. He's just having fun, and hes so glad his brother found true happiness. "Ohh, what else did you say?" Ace can hear the teasing in your voice, no way you're going into this too. "Shut up-!" "Oh, you know," the older brother laughs. "He says you are the sweetest, most beautiful being in the whole wide world. You're an angle with the patience you have for him. He would do anything for you without a second thought. He swears he has never loved another as he has you."

"What a mushy little guy my brother can be," his older brother says, sounding amused.

Ace is turning red. His voice comes out slightly strained, cracking. "I-! I NEVER-! Shut up I never said anything like that, that's way to sappy!" "Mhmmmm, sure bro, sure" His older brother smiles, genuinely.

"I've never seen him so happy," he says, "He's truly a good guy, he just has some rough edges. I'm glad someone like you took their time to get to know him...Take care of him for me."

Deuce

His mother beams. "Oh! This is the one you've been telling me about? You've done well. She is a beauty!"

Deuce's face is tomato red. He is the picture of nervousness, his eyes darting about the room with his mouth clamped shut for fear that he will say too much or too little. His mother's enthusiastic and effusive approach is overwhelming him. He wants to sink into the floor, damning himself for telling his mother and grandmother about you so much. "We are so delighted to have you here. Please," his mother continues, offering you her seat. "Sit, sit! No need to stand around!"

She smiles widely at you as she gestures to a plush chair across from them. A low table separates you, and the three of you are arranged across from one another. Deuce's grandmother walks slowly behind his mother, bearing a tray of tea and pastries in her hands. Without a word, she sits down and quietly offers one of the small cakes to you.

She doesn't take her eyes away from you, smiling wide. You can't help but smile back at her, but before you can thank her she leans closer to Deuce mother. "Perfect aren't they? I knew someone wil eventually see that our Deuce is a catch." She wasn't as discreet as she thought she was, but you can only agree with her, Deuce is a catch.

"Thank you so much-!" "It's nothing, dear," she says, her voice soft as velvet. His mother breaks the silence, leaning forward in her seat. "Now then, tell us all about yourselves. We have heard plenty from our son, but we want to hear from you."

Deuce is paralyzed. He has nothing ready to say. His mouth is dry and his heart is pounding in his chest. Although he is more than happy both his most loved family members love you, he is still nervous. It's embarrassing! "Wait-!" His grandmother immediately stands up from her seat. She disappears and reappears with a thick photo album. She settles back down and opens it.

"Now, let me show you my handsome boy when he was young. I think this is a much better idea!"

Deuce's head falls back, someone kill him. His heart stops at the pictures of himself....fuck...he's naked....

[like-a-diamondinthesky]

five minutes | l.m.h

pairing... bf!minho x gn!reader tags... established relationship, disgustingly fluffy, excessive references to soondoongdori, minho is a cat personified, soft mimo!

operation put your boyfriend to sleep in five minutes is a go.

wc... 1.4k words a/n... ah, yet another domestic fluff fic featuring softy minho. a star specialty! sorry guys this is kinda my fav thing to write ever r u sick of me 😁 anywayz this was inspired by this soft thought and this tiktok like i saw it and immediately thought : lee minho.

ALSO ALSO! HUGE THANK YOU FOR 1K FOLLOWERS! i never would've thought i'd reach this milestone and words couldnt express how incredibly grateful i am for each and every one of you who read and enjoy my works <3 i love you guys thank you so much!

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Minho turned the doorknob and pushed the front door open, greeting Soonie who stood by the entrance with a tilted head. Shutting the door, he hung his bag on the coat rack and bent down to pet his beloved cat’s chin.

“Hi, baby,” the cat nuzzled his head into Minho’s palm and circled around his arm, “where are your brothers, hm?”

Meow… Soonie walked off to the living room as if to answer Minho’s question. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he followed his cat toward the faint nose of your favorite series playing on the TV.

When he entered the room, Minho saw your figure strewn lazily across the couch. Dori was cuddled up against your chest and Soonie hopped up to join Doongie by your feet. His heart warmed at the sight of his loves all huddled together.

“Honey, I’m home,” Minho grabbed your attention with his gentle, sing-song tone, a cheeky smile plastered on his face.

You switched your attention from the screen in front of you to the man standing in the doorway, returning his smile and giving a small wave. “Hi, my love. How was your day?”

Minho padded over to you, scooped Dori up against his chest, and settled himself where the cat had previously taken solace in your arms.

“It was alright,” he said, scooching backward to press his back firm against your front. “Tiring, as usual, but it's fine.”

Though he couldn't see it, you nodded in acknowledgment and pressed a soft kiss to his head. You brought one hand up behind his ear to scratch at his scalp, something you had found he enjoyed.

“Do you want to go to bed already? It is pretty late.” From its place above the TV, the clock read 10:37 PM. “Maybe we should move our little cuddle session to the bedroom.”

Minho sighed and shook his head. “But, I'm already so comfy here. Plus, you wouldn't dare disturb the cats, would you?”

“Please, remember the last time we slept on the couch the whole night? I don’t think we want that happening again.”

“Y/n,” Minho called your name, dragging out the last syllable. “My back hurts so much! Remind me why we stayed on the couch again.”

“I told you we should have moved to the bed! But you wouldn’t listen to me,” you snickered at your boyfriend from the kitchen while you continued to whisk a couple of eggs for your breakfast.

You set the bowl down on the counter and walked over to Minho who was still lying on the couch. When you came into his sight, he made a show of stretching his arms and legs, akin to a cat, accompanied by a few exaggerated groans.

“I don’t think I can get up at all today. I should just call in sick,” Minho draped an arm over his face, letting the other fall limp over the edge of the cushion.

“Don’t you have an important meeting today? I doubt your boss would appreciate you missing that on account of an 'ouchy' back.”

“Well, maybe if you gave me more cuddles, I’d feel a bit better.” Minho peeked at you from under his arm, proposing this cute, yet slightly impractical, solution. “Unless you want me to miss work and stay at home with you today.”

“Alright, you big baby.” Rolling your eyes, you moved to straddle Minho’s lap, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. Now chest to chest, you wrapped an arm around his shoulders, letting the other one snake up his neck to play with the hairs at his nape.

The time you spent wrapped in each other’s warmth turned from seconds to minutes, the comfortable silence lulling you back to sleep. Minutes turned to hours, leaving Minho’s meeting unattended and the scrambled eggs forgotten on the kitchen counter.

“Ugh, at least give me five more minutes,” Minho offered as he continued to stroke Dori’s back, drawing a vibrating purr from the cat. “I don’t wanna get up yet.”

“Oh, come on, you have to brush your teeth anyways. Now get your lazy bum off the couch so we can cuddle on the bed.” You grabbed the throw pillow from behind your back and swung it at Minho’s side, accidentally startling Dori in the process. The cat jumped out of the man’s arms, causing him to throw a frown over his shoulder.

“Now look what you did! You’re scaring our babies.” Finally, Minho stood up, offering you his hand to pull you up as well. You met his hand with your own and anchored yourself up, giving him a sheepish smile.

“Oops.” You shrugged and skipped off to the bedroom, leaving your boyfriend with your three cats in the living room.

“Unbelievable.” Minho took a few steps towards the bathroom, paused, and turned back to look at his cats. “Well, are you coming with me or not?”

While your boyfriend finished his night routine, you lay on your shared bed and grinned to yourself. Operation Put Your Boyfriend to Sleep in Five Minutes was a go. You knew Minho was tired, and you wanted to send him off into a good night’s sleep in the most loving way you could.

The hallway light switched off as Minho opened the door to your bedroom, sporting a playful frown. It was time for Step One: Put him in a blanket.

“Come here, baby,” you peeled the duvet back and patted the space on the bed right next to you, beckoning your pouty boyfriend over to you. “Let’s get you to sleep, yeah?”

Trudging over to his side of the bed, Minho slid onto the mattress and pulled the heavy duvet over his body. Freshly washed, the warm, lavender-scented blanket immediately soothed his senses.

“You could’ve at least stayed with me while I brushed my teeth,” Minho continued to pout as he turned on his side to face you, “and, I don’t know, given me a back hug or something.”

Though his tone was playful, you recognized the look in Minho’s gaze. He yearned for your comfort, but he didn’t know how to ask for it. Reaching over, you cupped his face, gently caressing his cheek with your thumb. You peppered a few pecks on the corners of his mouth, kissing his pout away. Perfect timing for Step Two: Give reassuring pets.

“I’m here now, it’s okay.” His hair was soft in between your fingers as you threaded them through the fluffy locks. They smelled faintly of his coconut shampoo.

Tired, Minho let out a yawn, nose scrunched and eyelids shut. He leaned into your touch, humming contently.

Faintly, the door creaked open and you could hear light thuds on the carpeted floor, followed by a slightly louder thud on the bed as Doongie entered the bedroom and jumped up to join you. He stepped all over Minho’s body—drawing out a quiet yelp from the man beside you. You giggled as Doongie finally plopped down on Minho’s pillow, snuggling against the top of his head. This brought you to Step Three: Tuck him in.

With your boyfriend lying under the covers, you hooked one leg over him, moving your hand on his head to tuck it into your neck, cradling his body with no intent to stop any time soon.

For a second, the universe felt still. It was as though the ever-rotating hands on the clock had stopped moving, pausing to witness this intimate moment between you and Minho; as if even the angels in the skies above didn’t want this sweet gesture to end.

That was until Minho decided to take matters into his own hands and execute Step Four: Put one arm out for temperature regulation.

“It's too warm!” Minho whined into your neck, breaking the silence, and removed one arm from under the blanket, exposing it to the cold air. “Ah, that's better.”

He turned on his side and wrapped his now free arm around the small of your back, pulling you closer to him, if that were even physically possible.

Seeing your bodies pressed flush against each other, Soonie—who was previously lounging at the foot of the bed—crawled up the sheets and nuzzled into the barely-there gap between you and Minho, with Dori following suit.

Within five minutes of lying down, the night ended with your small family cuddled together on the warm, cozy bed, basking in each other’s comfort.

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taglist: @kflixnet @jinnixxn @elllisaaa @captainchrisstan @laylasbunbunny @starsandrqindrops @kittymaryam-thebrowniefairy @forlix @mires-empire @quesweebs

comments, reblogs, and feedback are appreciated! © like-a-diamondinthesky 2023

[animehideout]

idk if u are taking requests but I thought about “jjk men reacting to a s/o with tramp stamp” … if u did it would be nice …

JJK men reacting to tramp stamp

A/N: Hello, thanks for your request, I hope you like it <3 well here the reader is not necessarily s/o but reader and jjk men have feelings for each other.

Warning: hmm kinda smut ❤️‍🔥 ??

Gojo Satoru : At Prom Party.

It was prom party that night at Jujutsu High, teachers were also allowed to attend, and you were one of the new teachers who joined this year. So your secret admirer and co-worker Gojo Satoru seized the opportunity and found it fit to invite you to go to prom with him, as two young and beautiful teachers. Since all of you live in Jujutsu High dormitory, you were already in the middle of the party ground, and no need for Gojo to pick you up from your room.

Satoru mingled through the prom, wearing am expensive and elegant black suit, he was searching for you and then found you with your girl students, all of you dressed in cute dresses. Satoru's eyes widened. He wasn't used to you wearing dresses, you've always been clad in your teaching uniform or something sporty. His heart skipped a beat when he saw you in a sleek low-back dress, you looked really stunning and sexy, outshining everyone there. He took a moment to admire you from afar, then started walking towards but boy stopped mid way when you suddenly turned around to greet Itadori, the intricate design of the tramp stamp tattoo that's briefly visible above the edge of your dress caught Gojo's eyes and took his breath away. For a split second, his expression flickered with surprise. His gaze lingering on your lower back, trying to see the details of your tattoo, but soon you turned again and he's left with replaying that hidden and unexpected glimpse of rebellion in his mind. He'd walk over to you and try to stay composed.

Each time you turn around or something he tried to peek without appearing like a creep, but he desperately wanted to see it up close and maybe trace it with his long fingers. Even though he was surprised, he actually liked it and it made you look even more badass and he loves that. You'd notice how he was acting really awkward and weird, you thought he hated the party or something but truth is he couldn't stop thinking and envisioning his hands tracing your inked lower back so delicately, admiring and taking into the details of that tramp stamp of yours. You'd ask him if he's okay and he'll just blurt it out . He was so done and wanted to see it real bad.

" I noticed you've got a tattoo! I didn't know you're into tattoos "

"Oh this one?" you'd say and turn around giving him a better and clear display.

He'd gulp. His heart hammering against his ribcage at the beautiful sight, the tattoo, your well defined back, the way the dress was looking gorgeous from behind, he couldn't help but fall deep for you, he found you more and more irresistible.

"Wow I wanna touch it– holy shit sorry, I'm not a pervert!!! " he started explaining when he realized he voiced his deepest desires.

But you'd cut him off with a visible smirk,

" Of course, but let's keep it after the party, shall we ? "

He took the hint and realized that you've got something for him as well, and now he can't wait when the party's over so he can get what he's been thinking about for the whole night.

Suguru Geto : At Tattoo Shop

Your friend Geto started a new project and opened his own tattoo and piercing shop. So you and your group of friends, Satoru and Shoko thought about paying him a visit and support him. The shop screams Geto, it's literally his vibe, black and grey wallpaper, and electric guitar hanging on the wall, the scent of his cologne taking over the whole space, making it more inviting. You've always liked the way he smells tho.

Suguru got really happy when you arrived, he appreciated your support for his business, but more importantly cuz you were there. Shoko was getting a new piercing and you thought about getting a small design right under your collarbone. He was too excited to tattoo you and maybe exchange eye contact in the process. It didn't take too long for him to get the tattoo done, the design was really small and Geto is a pro.

" So what do you think?" he asked nervously, handing you a mirror.

" Oh wow I love it Suguru, you're really good at this, good job! you never disappoint"

" You took it like a champ tho! you didn't even flinch for a first time getting tattoed, especially that area is pretty sensitive " he said proudly

you giggled and said, " Oh actually it's not my first tattoo "

" What ? and how come we don't know about that? " asked Shoko

" Um because it's hidden!"

" Care to show us miss ? Come on don't be shy now" she added,

" Ugh fine " you rolled your eyes and smiled,

You lifted your shirt a bit and slightly pushed done your pants only to show your lower back, and a beautiful tramp stamp tattoo came to display. Geto's eyes were fixated in your lower back, your soft skin and how it was decorated with a breathtaking design that made your back even more attractive. His breath hitched up in his throat, feeling more drawn to you, but at the same time jealous because someone else got to touch you there and tattoo you. He wished it was him, taking his time to design your lower back and give you that pretty pain.

" A- a tramp stamp?" he stuttered,

" Yeah I got it 2 months ago, if I knew you're planning to open up a tattoo shop I would've waited so you can tattoo me "

" Oh shoot Suguru, unlucky " teased Gojo knowing about the obvious spark between both of you.

Suguru glared at his friend, getting really upset, because he desperately wanted to be the one to ink you and not anyone else. But he couldn't help how warm the atmosphere was getting, you looked very hot.

" I'm getting more tattoos though, but now I know I'll come to you to ink me " you said wanting his hands to be on you in any possible way.

Suguru's pupils expanded, a smirk appeared on his face. He got more excited and now he can't wait for his next session with you.

" Any specific spots ? "

" I like hidden spots more " you smiled,

" Alright Shoko I guess we don't fit here anymore " exclaimed Gojo wrapping his arm around Shoko's shoulder pulling her outside with him so he can give his best friend some privacy with you.

You spent the rest of the evening, in Geto's shop, just the two of you, discussing tattoos, exchanging your mutual likings, and choosing the perfect spot that he'll ink.

You spent the rest of the evening talking about your mutual passion for tattoos, chosing what spot you'll decorate next and maybe showing him once again that beautiful tattoo, for inspiration purposes.

Choso Kamo : At The Beach

Choso's heart pounded out of hos chest as he watched the sunrise with you, it was your second date together after you officially started dating. He thought that watching the sunrise together at the beach is romantic, and man wanted to act romantic just for you. Poor baby was doing his best.

" I love this place " you said as you rested your head on his shoulder.

The water was inviting, sparkling in the sun rays, the gentle waves creating a therapeutic sound.

" Yeah, a calm place for both of us " he said, hesitantly pressing a kiss on top of your head.

He was still shy around you, very careful with his moves even though you were chill and cool around him. Trying to not rush things to not make you uncomfortable in any way.

" Should we swim ? " you suggest out of the blue with a big excited smile on your face.

" Swim? Now ? I think the water is cold now!"

" I like it cold, it's refreshing. Don't you think " you answered, your eyes shining with happiness.

" I– "

But before he could say anything, you already stripped out of your clothes, living you in your bikini. You knew you can't resist the water, so you wore your bikini in case you decided to swim.

" I came prepared " you laughed and started running to the water.

Choso froze. He didn't know how to act. He didn't expect you to easily take off your clothes, in front of him like that, his cheeks turned red like cherries. But what made him more flustered is the tattoo that was clearly visible on your lower back. Choso gasped, his heart almost jumping out of his throat. Your figure, your inked skin made it hard for him to breathe or function and now he's all red, awkward not knowing what his next move is. But he took his time to stare at your back, since he's your boyfriend and he kinda felt that he has the green light to look at you as much as he wants.

" Aren't you coming? " you asked, as you started playing with water.

He smiled at your cute behavior and built up the courage, taking off his clothes and joined you in the water. You were pretty aware that he noticed your tattoo, it was meant for him to see it and you patiently waited for him to say something. You hugged him while both of you were in the water, his hands wrapped around your waist.

" Your back.. it's so pretty ! " he whispered

" Hmm, come again? " you teased

" T-the t-tattoo on your back, it looks so p-pretty on you! I didn't know you have it " he stuttered,

" Oh thank you, I keep it hidden most of the time only for y– " you said with a shy smile.

" me, only for me to see it " he interrupted growing more confident.

" Yes Choso only for you to see it "

It turned him on, and he felt proud that you're his girlfriend and that he gets to see and touch that tattoo as much as he wants. Without hesitation this time, he crushed your lips together, taking you into a deep wet kiss, while the waves made you sway.

" And only for me to touch it " he mumbled into the kiss.

Ryomen Sukuna : One Night Stand

You've liked Sukuna for so long, but didn't have the courage to confess or even start a conversation with him, so you've always watched him from a distance completely unaware that he's actually obsessed with you. He wanted to have you so bad, he's always seen you as an innocent human being so he was very careful with the way he'd approach you, worried that he might scare you away.

One night, you went to a party to celebrate one of your friends birthday and to your luck, Sukuna was there. You didn't notice he was there, till he offered you a drink and invited you to dance with him. Both of you living the dream that you desired for months.

The sexual tension was so strong between both of you, and none of you could wait any second longer. So you left the party early to be together, under each other's touch. He took you back to his place, and all what you can do is making out, you wanted this for many months and now you can't let this opportunity to taste him slide from between your fingers. That make out session, eventually led to sex. And now both of you stripping out of your clothes. You knew Sukuna is dominant, his appearance, his attitude, his everything screams dominance and you couldn't help but submit to him.

" And now turn around princess can you do that for me ? " he said in his deep voice, sending shivers down your spine.

You did as he said, waiting for his next move. But he didn't do anything. All what you can feel is his veiny hands around your waists.

" Sukuna? " you started and looked back.

You can see his eyes fixated on your arched lower back. His eyes darkening full of admiration and lust.

" A tattoo? " he asked,

" Y-yea ? " you were confused and worried thinking that he changed his mind and didn't wanna make love to you.

" Fuck! and I thought you were innocent huh ? "

" Why? innocent girls can't have a tramp stamp? " you said teasingly,

" Damn, and I thought you can't get any hotter.. that's so rebellious of you princes, and I enjoy handling rebellious ones " he smirked and pushed you down even more.

His tattooed hands roaming your lower back, tracing your tattoo with his nails, that poking feeling making you jump slightly but he kept you still, you can feel his breath and lips on your skin, kissing your tattooed skin, making your heart race and head spin.

" Imma enjoy this pretty view while I make you scream my name "

To say the less, he gave you the best night of your life.

[loganlermanstanaccount]

PLEASE! I BEG THAT YOU WRITE AN MIGUEL O’HARA FICTION! IM BEGGING!! PLEASEE!!!! (Sorry if I come off harsh)

Ask and you shall receive!! A quick thing I wrote (not proofread), thanks for the ask <3

Touch

Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror), Part 2, Main Masterlist

summary: Miguel misbehaves. You teach him a lesson. part one maybe?? idk y'all let me know if u want a pt 2. (Part 2 is out!)

warnings: pwp!! light f-dom, angry (ish??) sex, grinding, slight m-sub, (m) begging. mostly just filth. I am soooo desperate for any character played by Oscar Isaac. 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: I apologise in advance, native Spanish speakers. Me and reverso tried our best. 

wc: 1.4k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A great crash from the workshop has you running from all the way in the kitchen, apron still on. 

He looks tired, hunched over his desk. Great hulking shoulders hang, tense in the dim light of a single lamp.

"Miguel?" It's soft, in the metallic hum of lights. "Everything okay?" 

He shifts, looking over his shoulder at you. "M'sorry for the noise mi sol, just tired." 

"...maybe it's time to call it a night, baby."

He waves you off with a flick of the wrist.   "Give me ten minutes, I'll come to bed."

"That's what you said half an hour ago, Miggy." It's under your breath but loud enough that his super senses pick it up.Your voice is fraught, frustrated - no doubt at the nights he'd spent away from you. Whether coming back late from tinkering in his workshop, or on the streets; he'd meet you fast asleep in bed, and wake up to an early morning rush. Either way, he seemed like a stranger in your own home; consumed with his work. It was taking its toll. 

You pad back, returning to the kitchen in silence. You clean up the remnants of a dinner Miguel had picked at, sighing. You loved him, and you knew he loved you; but he lived in his own world sometimes. Sure, the world needed him; but what about you? After everything you had given each other, how could he discard you so easily? 

It's only after a while Miguel realises the noises of you clearing up have long subsided, that he heads into the kitchen to investigate. It's meticulously clean, your apron hanging up on its peg by the door. On the counter, the remainder of his dinner boxed up in tupperware, with a post-it-note on the lid. 'For Miggy <;3' , it reads. 

His heart aches as he walks towards your room. You're dressed in nothing but his t-shirt, knees drawn and curled up into yourself. He slides into bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

"Mi vida?" He mumbles. "Mi vida, I know you're awake." 

You respond with an unceremonious grunt, back still turned. You're mad at him, and he deserves it. 

"I'm sorry." He says, listening to the rise and fall of your chest in the dark. He sits up. Sighing, he cradles your arm, tracing circles into the flesh. Gentle, and oh so soft. "I'm an idiot, you know that. I fucked up. Couldn't see how much you were hurting."

You stir, turning to face him. In the neon lights that stream into your room, his face falls. He brings a hesitant hand to cup at your cheek. 

"Say something. Please." Imperciptably, he watches your eyes fall to his lips. 

You kiss him, passionate and hot and angry. He can barely breathe when you envelope your plush lips around his, snaking your hand towards his back. You claw at his shirt, raking a hand into his hair. When you separate, it's obscene; a sliver of saliva still connecting his lips to yours. His scarlet eyes are low as he licks his lips; chasing your taste. You both sit up. 

"You haven't touched me in weeks, Miguel." Your voice is dangerously low, hand wrapped around his neck.

He wraps strong hands around your waist, guiding you to straddle him. For once, he's grateful for the flimsy fabric of his t-shirt - thin around the apex of your pebbled nipples. He paws at your hips, hands trailing towards your bare thighs. Just as they come to rest towards their crook, you snatch his hands away. 

"Let me make it up to you," He hisses at the contact, leaning into your touch. "Por favor, sólo una probadita, just a taste, my love."

"No touching." Dramatic, he protests, cursing in Spanish before you bring a thumb to his mouth to silence him. 

"No. Touching."

Eyes lidded, looking up at you, it takes everything not to break; you fight the urge to kiss the tip of his nose and whisper praise into the crook of his neck. Instead, you coax your thumb into his mouth; as he swirls his tongue around it, like he would on your clit. Miguel savors it like the sweetest honey, grateful you'll even touch him considering how he's been acting. 

He swells in his pants, hard as the crotch of his sweats graze your bare pussy. Beautiful tits pressed against his chest,  you draw small circles with your waist against the seat of his crotch. Precum spills as his hips jump up to meet you, desperate for contact. 

Immediately, you stop. With a pop, you pull your thumb from his mouth and Miguel moans at the loss. 

"Mierda. Baby, please-"

"No. Here's what's going to happen. I'm going to use you to get off. You're gonna watch, if you're lucky. And then I'm…" You swirl your hips, causing him to groan. "... going to bed." 

"¿Entiendes?" You croon, spiteful in the slow sway of your hips. "Do you understand, Miguel?" 

"-f-fuck, ok, ok-" Desperately nodding, he grips the sheets by his side. Closing his eyes to steady himself, he slumps his head on your shoulder. God, he's trying so, so hard not to cum right there; turned on by the lull of your sweet voice. He likes it when you get angry and treat him like a toy - painfully hard at the way you light him on fire. Everything about you; your scent, the way you taste, the grip you have in his hair; turns his senses up to eleven. 

You grind on his crotch, steadying yourself with your other hand on his shoulder. Plush lip tucked under your teeth, it takes all his willpower not to capture you in another kiss: hungry and consuming and overpowering. He can tell you're serious; everytime he grinds his crotch into yours, you will yourself to stop and tighten your grip. 

"Miguel…" You warn, moaning softly into his ear. "I m-meant what I said…"

When his hips snap up the third time; you growl, frustrated. Both your hands move to his chest, pushing him down onto the mattress so he's on his back. He looks good like this; at your mercy and putty under your hands. You push up the lip of his shirt to expose his midsection and pull down his sweats. A happy trail snakes down to his neatly trimmed cock; its deliciously curved tip springing free. Precum covers his cock, so when you slide him between the lips of your pussy it glides like he was made for you. You bite down on your lip so hard, it almost bleeds. 

With this new angle, you plant your hands by his head; grinding your clit onto his dick desperately. The slick sounds drive Miguel crazy, and when his hands fly to your waist to help you along, you don't move them. 

"You're s-so pretty, mi vida… prettiest thing I've ever seen. Need it. Need you. Use me, please, hump my cock like I'm your toy, p-please, please…"

He knows your body better than you do. You're close, dangerously near the edge. With the way your thigh shakes and the spasms that slow your rhythm, he knows. You don't break eye contact with him under you, moaning as you slide on his cock. Desperate, you chase that sweet spot, electric when he angles your hips just so… 

"M'gonna cum, fuck, Miggy-" You writhe desperately. He's close, too, shamelessly humping your pussy like a feral animal. He can taste it; white hot at the tip of his tongue. Finally, you cum: a leg shaking, biting orgasm that rips through you. You clench around nothing, but it's not enough for him. So, so close; and it's ripped away from him when you come down, in the aftermath. 

Unceremoniously, you pant and roll off of him; spread-eagle atop the sheets. Miggy curses softly at his ruined orgasm - still rock hard. He's glad you feel good, but he knows he can make you feel better, broad hands pawing at your hips. You slap them off, and turn your back pointedly. The slope and curve of your ass taunts him. 

"Fuck off, Miguel."

"Baby, I'm sor-" 

"Fuck. Off."

Sighing, he takes the hint. Grabbing the pillow, he pads off to the sofa in your living room, adjusting his hard on. He'd give you your space, tonight, and begin to win you back tomorrow morning. He needs you, more than you'd ever know. 

_

_

_

[xhoneygirlxx]

WANTED U

Eddie Munson x Best Friend Reader

summary: when your date is ruined by your best friend, can you stay mad at him when he reveals a secret you've been dying to know?

warnings: fluff, slight angst, Eddie is deep in his feels, two idiots in love. Minors DNI 18+ ONLY! mentions of drinking, Eddie gets drunk. swearing. p in v, creampie (wrap it up kiddos), fingering, body worship and praise. Reader's race/ethnicity is not mentioned! she/her pronouns used. Both Eddie and Reader are in their twenties. Also not proofread, spelling errors and horrible writing!

*if I miss anything please let me know!

a/n: Hi honey bunnies! I just want to thank @ali-r3n for this really cute idea! I'm so sorry it took me forever to post and I'm sorry about the shitty writing! Smut is not my strong suit and I've been plagued with the horrible writers block, so I hope this is okay! I hope you like this and thank you for being so wonderful and patient <3

All you wanted to do was to go on one date. One singular date. For the first time since your high school prom, you were going out with someone who was interested in you. A tinder match that led to multiple conversations, that led to having drinks, to hopefully going back to his place for a well needed time in the sheets. 

That was the plan for the night. Then your phone started to blow up with phone calls and texts, an apparent SOS that couldn’t wait. So you had to cancel, mid-date, telling your date that there was a family emergency. You knew walking out of there that Jordan wouldn’t text you back or ever take you up on the second date offer. 

It wasn’t like you were heartbroken over it, however you were a little bummed. The whole reason you even got on the dating app was because you were trying to get over your best friend. Eddie Munson stole your heart at the age of fifteen and had yet to give it back. It was a sick cycle that you have been going through for nine years. 

You were the lovesick best friend, who just couldn’t take the hint, following him around like a lost dog. Eddie had you wrapped around his finger and you didn’t care. Canceling plans just because he wanted to see you, doing whatever he asked just because, and never dating with the hopes of him finally falling for you. 

Those dreams were fruitless however, because Eddie didn’t see you as anything more than a friend. All the pining and unrequited love was killing you, a slow painful death that would put medieval torture devices to shame. It’s not like you could blame the brown haired boy, it’s not like you can pick who you fall for, but that didn’t stop you from wishing it would happen. 

So therefore you took the giant leap and put yourself out there, trying to ease the ache of your heart. In the end you ended up in Eddie’s apartment, helping him in his drunken state, get to bed. The emergency that Jeff blew your phone up for, was this. A night out with the guys turned into Eddie getting belligerent and refusing to leave until you came and got him. 

The whole car ride there you were disappointed in yourself, the whole reason for your dumb date was to stop yourself from running to the rescue every time he called. You were annoyed and heavily frustrated with the outcome of your night. It almost felt like the universe was against you, whatever god above watching you and laughing every single time you failed to move on. 

As much as you wanted to hate the grown man sitting in front of you, you simply couldn’t. His whiskey colored eyes round and glossy, nose and cheeks rosy with the heat of alcohol coursing through him, and his hair messy from the cold night wind. He was so pretty and it was hard trying to stay mad at him, especially when he had a deep dimpled smile adorning his face. 

“Alright Eds, I need you to change out of your clothes.” You say sweetly, the pile of his pajama’s hanging in your hands. 

Following your instructions, he tries to lift his shirt over his head, only for it to get caught on his head. “Sweets, I need help.” He sounds like a helpless child trying to tie his shoes, and you have to stifle a laugh. 

Placing the change of clothes next to him on the bed, you swiftly pull the stuck fabric off of him. When his head is released, he shakes his hair out of his face so he can see you. A childlike wonder flits in his eyes as he looks at you, admiring the way you’re being so gentle. 

A small thank you is whispered, you hum in response as you pull the new shirt on him. His eyes close as you gently tug his arms through the hole, soaking up the amount of attention you give to him. It feels like you’re changing a newborn, so docile and content with the way you handle him. 

“Can you take your pants off yourself or do you need me to help?” Your voice breaks his sleepy demeanor, droopy eyes looking up at you. 

“You gonna buy me dinner first?” Wiggling his eyebrows, he playfully smirks at you. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” You deadpan, yet your heart beat picks up at his innuendo. 

Surprisingly, he’s able to take his bottoms off and replace them with the pair you picked out for him. Pulling the jewelry off his wrist and fingers, you place them hastily on his bedside table. His eyes follow your every move, like a curious kitty watching their owner. Pulling back the covers on his bed, you gently lay him down and prop his head up with pillows. 

“So you have your bottle of water right here,” You show him by picking it up off the table where it’s sat, “And the bottle of Tylenol is right next to it. Now if at any moment you feel like you have to throw up, the garbage can is right next to you on the floor. Okay?” 

Humming to you in understanding, he closes his eyes once more. When you think he’s about to pass out, you turn on your heel to grab clothes for yourself. Not getting far, his big hand wraps around your wrist gently, bringing your attention back to him. This time his expression isn’t as content or happy. No, his eyes are glassy with unshed tears and his bottom lip jets out in a pout. 

“Please don’t leave.” It’s a whispered plea, innocent and childlike. 

“I’m not leaving Eds, just grabbin’ some clothes to change into.” Even with your assuring smile, he’s still frowning at you. 

“Please just, don’t leave.” Tugging your arm slightly, he brings you closer to the bed. 

“Eddie, I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” You’re now concerned with the state of your best friend and why he felt the need to beg you to stay. 

“Promise? What about Jacob?”

“Eddie, what are you talking about?” Although he closes his eyes again, you still press for answers. 

“I don’t wanna lose you t’some douche. You needa be with me, sweets cause I love you s’much. Don’t wanna lose you to him.” It’s all a slurred mess, his words mumbling together as they fall out of his mouth. 

“If you mean Jordan, no I’m not going to leave you for him” You giggle softly, “I left my date with him to come get you. Plus his stories about kayaking were starting to get boring.” You try to lighten the mood, but it only makes his lip wobble more. 

“I shoulda made a move, I wanted to b-but I-I was scared. Gareth told me I lost my chance with you and he-he was right.” A few stray tears fall down his cheek and you lift a hand to wipe them away. 

The same brown eyes you fell in love with, all those years ago, stare up at you. The heart that’s bleed for him for nine years is starting to heal, the words you so desperately wanted to hear are finally coming to light. 

With your own tears glistening in your eyes, you look down at him like you always do. With the biggest heart in your eyes and brightest smile on your face. “You should stop listening to Gareth, Eds. I think you still have a shot, but we’ll talk about this later. When you’re not drunk.” 

Bobbing his head the best he can, he squeezes your hand once before retracting it. With his eyes closed and steady breaths leave his parted lips, you get changed and turn off the lights. Maybe the universe wasn’t against you, maybe it was on your side the whole time and just had a funny way of showing it. 

__

The bright sun pouring through the window, wakes you up. The sight before you is one you’ve seen before. The side profile of your best friend’s face, wild hair sprawled over the pillow that lays beneath him. You take this moment in to study his features, the slope of his nose, the way his eyelashes kiss the tops of his cheeks, and how kissable his lips look. 

Not much later is he stirring, stretching his limbs out after his wild night out. Cracking one of his eyes open, he winces slightly before running his hands down his face. Blinking once or twice, he finally lets himself wake up, staring straight at the ceiling. You wonder if he remembers what he said or if you should bring it up. Instead you choose to play it cool, or at least try to. 

“Good morning drunky! How’d you sleep?” Reaching a finger out, you poke his side.

“Drunky,” he snorts,” I actually slept well, thanks to my wonderful nurse.” He takes a peak over at you, a smug smile already pushing his cheeks up high. 

You try to ignore the butterflies in your tummy when you hear his voice, thick and husky with sleep. The giddy feeling rushing through you is written all over your face, covered up by a bad attempt of biting back a smile. 

“Well, I’m glad you don’t feel so shitty.” You say, stretching your body to distract yourself from his burning gaze. 

“What time is it anyway?” His question comes out in a yawn, loud and exaggerated. Propping up on your elbow, you lean over him to get a look at your alarm clock. 

“A little past ten.” Eddie huffs, muttering something about it being far too early. “I know it’s too early for you but that just means we can go to Jerry’s and get waffles to soak up whatever's left in your system.” You coo at him mockingly, fake pouting as you look at him. 

“Ya know, I don’t enjoy your fake pity.” Eddie rolls his eyes at you, a frown pulling at the corner of his lips.

“Oh I’m sorry, Eds. Want some ketchup with those cries?” Eddie’s frown deepens like a bratty child, and you eat up every second of it. “Oh, I know! I’ll call a wambulance.” You throw your head back, laughing at your own joke. 

With your attention off of him, he sees the perfect opportunity to laugh. At lightning speed, he grips your hands, flipping you over on your back. With the weight of his thighs bracketing you and his hand gripping your wrists together, you’re defenseless. 

With a wild glint in his eyes, Eddie wastes no time in attacking you with a finger to your side. Relentlessly, Eddie tickles you to the point there are tears in your eyes from how hard you're laughing, and your pleas for him to stop are swallowed by the oxygen that’s being stolen from your lungs. 

“It’s not so funny when it’s your turn, huh?” Smirking down at you, his attack doesn’t relent. 

Thrashing around the best you can, you try everything to get him off but with the way his thighs squeeze your legs together makes it hard to do so. 

“Okay, Okay! I’m sorry, Eddie! Please!” The last word comes out as the softest moan, so soft that you would miss it if you weren’t paying attention. However, Eddie was and his fingers stopped digging into your sides immediately. 

The sound of your heavy breathing is the only thing to be heard. Eddie stares down at you, eyes unblinking and cheeks dusted pink. The usually brown eyes are now dark, the dark pupil over taking the iris. You stare right back at him, chest rising and falling dramatically and lips parted slightly letting the air from your lungs flow out easily. 

It feels like the world has stopped, time frozen still for eternity. The mid-morning light painting the two of you in a portrait, cementing the moment forever. Two heart beats synching up together, beating against the bones of your rib cages. 

“Fuck it.”

Eddie rushes in to smash his lips against yours. Years of waiting and wondering if this moment would ever happen, now finally laying to rest. The taste of him has been the missing part of your life this whole time and you wonder if he’s thinking the same thing. 

It’s sweet and slow, his tongue slipping inside your mouth softly. Morning breath be damned, the two of you make out for what seems like hours on end. Parting from each other for much needed air, a small giggle leaves your mouth. 

“What?” Eddie smiles, his face as dopey and gooey as you feel on the inside. 

“I just wanted this for so long.” You admit, making his smile pull wider. 

Leaning back down to you, he peppers kisses all over your face. The snickering that’s leaving your mouth is slowly turned into a whimper when his lips find their way to your neck. A gasp pulls from your chest the minute he finds that spot, eliciting him to suck on it. Hissing when it becomes too much, Eddie is quick to soothe the sting with his tongue. 

Pulling his face away from the crevice of your neck, his eyes find yours as his hand glides to find the hem of your shirt. Tugging on it and raising an eyebrow in question, you nod overenthusiastically. 

Ripping the oversized shirt over your face, he takes his time to memorize all the details of your skin. The heat of his stare becomes a bit too much, worry overtaking your brain causing you to bite down on your lip. 

“I just want you to know that I’ve waited since freshman year to see these bad boys.” Attention still drawn on your bare chest. 

“Well, do they live up to the hype?” You question, tone not as confident as you think. 

Eddie’s head whips up to you, mouth agape and you swear you can see drool pooling from his lips. “Sweets, you have no idea.” 

Diving in, he kisses the doughy flesh of your breasts, going back and forth between the two. Like a magnet to a fridge, his lips find the hardened bud and latches on. Switching between sucking and flicking his tongue, you squirm underneath him trying to find some sort of friction for the ache in between your legs. 

“You have no idea how many times I jerked off to the thoughts of this.” Eddie mutters as he moves his attention to the opposite nipple. 

Between his admission and the feeling of his warm mouth on your sensitive skin, you moan loudly. The feeling of more wetness pool in your panties alerts you, the overwhelming feeling of need buzzing through you. A small whine comes from you and it catches Eddie’s attention. 

Pulling away from your breast and peering up at you, he cocks his head to the side. “What’s wrong, baby? Want some cheese for that whine?” 

When his canine teeth shine through his devilish smirk, you whimper. You hate that he’s using your game from earlier against you, teasing you like he doesn’t know what you want. 

“What is it, sweets? Tell me what you want.” Fake pity drips from his question and it only eggs you on more. 

Eddie’s got you so worked up that you can’t even speak. Lifting your hips to show him what you need, you frown harder when he laughs at you. 

“Oh, princess,” He coos, running his thumb along your lower lip, “Be the good girl I know you are, and ask. Can you do that f’me?” Nodding your head, he encourages you with an assuring smile. 

“C-can you touch me, please?” Your voice sounds so small and you’d honestly cringe if it weren’t for the fact that you know you’re dripping out of the fabric of your panties onto his bed. 

Sighing heavily, Eddie gives your bottom lip a small tug with his thumb, letting the bottom row of your teeth show before it bounces back up into place. 

“I would tease you more but you asked so nicely.” Shuffling down your body, he loops his fingers through the sides and guides the thin material down your legs. 

Pushing his way through your thighs, Eddie runs the tip of his middle finger up the slit of your sex. His finger grazes lightly over your bundle of nerves, causing you to jolt from the feeling. 

“You’re really fucking wet.” Eddie says breathlessly as he parts your glistening lips apart with his fingertips. 

Not waiting for your response, Eddie circles his finger around your entrance before plunging it in slowly. The stretch from his finger makes you arch slightly, a muffled moan falling from your mouth. Using the pad of his thumb, he swirls your clit in alternating circles and figure eights. 

“More, Eds. Fuck, please!” You beg and who is Eddie to deny you. Pushing another finger inside, he curls them just right and starts going faster. 

“Fuck you’re so greedy, baby. Isn’t that right, you’re s’greedy for me, huh?” With his hair sticking to his forehead with sweat and his cheeks a pretty burgundy shade, he looks just as fucked out as you. 

Writhing underneath him, you babble nonsense as his fingers hit that spot you always struggle to. “Yes! M’so greedy - Shit!” 

“You gonna let me taste you? Gonna let me eat this pretty cunt?” You don’t even get a chance to answer, your body already doing it for you by clenching around his fingers. “Oh she likes that, huh? You like imagining me in between these pretty thighs, baby?” 

“Think ‘bout it all the time.” You moan, hips rocking against his hand as you try to chase your high. 

“Yeah, sweets? Think about me when you play with this pretty pussy?” 

That’s all it takes for you to come undone, gushing around his fingers with a muted scream. Your back arches off the bed, eyes rolled into the back of your head, as the feeling of your orgasm washes over you. 

Eddie helps you ride through it, continuing his motions until your tense muscles relax into a jelly like state. When you come back down from your high, you whimper at the loss of his fingers. Moving your eyes to him, you watch as he sticks his middle and forefinger in his mouth, moaning when the taste of you hits his taste buds. 

“Yeah, I’m definitely gonna have to eat you out.” Eddie grins at you and you roll your eyes playfully back at him. 

“That sounds absolutely wonderful, but” You begin to say and his face drops with the fear of rejection, “I’m going to need you to fuck me in the next thirty seconds.” You smirk and his jaw drops. 

After fifteen seconds of pure shock, Eddie shakes his head and tries to play it cool. 

“Yeah totally, let me just-” His sentence is cut off when he begins to struggle out of his own clothes. 

Once he’s stark naked and hovering over you, you laugh giddily up at him. Putting his forehead to you, he studies your eyes for any sort of regret or doubt. 

“Eds, I promise you I want this.” You reassure him, making sure to prove the point with a loving kiss.

With his confidence boosted, Eddie snakes his hand down to guide himself into you. When the tip breaches your entrance, the both of you gasp at the feeling.

Pushing in slowly, he brings his lips back to yours, swallowing your moans. Once he's all the way in, Eddie gives you a minute to adjust before he starts moving.

Nodding your head to let him know you're good, he pulls almost all the way out before ramming back into you, knocking the wind from your lungs.

"Fuuck, sweets. S'fuckin' tight." His voice trembles as he pounds into you.

"You're so big, I can feel you s'deep." You slur, drunk on the way his cock stretches you, hitting that sweet spot with every drag of his hips.

Eddie resituates himself, pushing your knees up to your chest, before bringing his chest back down to yours. This way you can feel him even deeper, which you didn't even think was possible.

You're on fire, belly burning bright with fire. Eddie's everywhere, he's all you can see, hear, smell, touch, think, he's invaded every single one of your senses and you can't get enough.

His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes closed with the pure bliss of being inside of you. It's so intimate yet so dirty and it's driving you insane.

Opening his eyes, he looks down at you like you've hung the stars that shine in the sky.

"I wanted this for so long, sweets. I wanted you, so Fuck-" He hangs his head, speeding up the movements of his hips. A roaring sob comes out of your mouth, the fire in you burning hotter with every drag of his thick cock.

"I'm so in love with you, sweets. Been yours since I was sixteen." Finally he confesses, letting the sacred secret out, only this time he's drunk off of you.

"I love you too! Fuck-I love you so fucking much."

"Tell me you're mine. Please, tell me." He begs and you comply, growing closer and closer to the edge.

"M'yours, been yours since I was fifteen." You confess and it feels like the weight of the world has lifted off of you.

With one last thrust, you come undone with a loud cry. Eddie doesn't let up his movements, now only focusing on his own release.

The way his hips stutter, you know that he won't last too much longer.

"I want you to cum in me, Eds. I wanna feel s'bad." You coax and that's all it takes for the metalhead to come with a stuttering grunt.

Lazily thrusting into you, he finally stops when he becomes overstimulated. The room is once again calm, the now afternoon sun blinds you as it seeps into the room. Heavy breathing and content hums fill the room, while the scent of sex lingers in the air.

Shyly removing himself from your chest, Eddie looks at you sheepishly. "Now what?"

If you didn't know Eddie you'd probably think he's being rude, but you know that he really is just overthinking everything that just happened. In his mind he thinks you're probably regretting everything, even though you told him you felt the same way.

Using your hand to pull some of the hair that sticks to his cheeks away, you smile affectionately at him.

"Well, I was thinking we could still go to Jerry's for breakfast," Eddie still looks at you like he's waiting for the ball to drop, "Then I thought you could keep your promise and eat your girlfriend out. That is, if you're not too full."

"Really?" He looks like a puppy who just heard its favorite word, excited with it's tail wagging back and forth.

Snickering up at him, you nod your head rapidly. Pulling out of you quickly, Eddie runs out of the room and you can hear the chaos of clattering from behind the door.

"Eddie, what are you doing?" More giggles fall from your lips as he races back in with a wet wash rag in his hand.

"Gotta clean you up before we go out to eat, baby. That way I can recreate our masterpiece later." He says wiggling his eyebrows.

Yeah this was the dork you fell in love with and who you were going to love for the rest of your life.

-

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-

Thank you all for reading! I'm sorry it's not the best!

[luveline]

Hi Jade!!! I love, love, love your writing. I was wondering if you could write something for Tsam Peter x reader where reader has a concussion and Peter is just generally super sweet about taking care of them? I have a concussion right now and I feel like he would be so sweet about it. If not feel free to ignore this, love you!!! <3

i love u!! fem!reader, 1k

You’re shivering again. Peter looks up from his book suspiciously, squinting at the curve of your where you’re laying on his couch. He should let you rest —you’re allowed to sleep with a concussion, despite what some might think— but he doesn’t like the shivering. It’s weird. 

“I'm coming, baby,” he says, standing up from the armchair to situate himself by your hips. 

Peter pulls the blankets more firmly to your chin. “Are you cold, bub?” he asks. It might appear that he’s talking to you while you’re still sleeping, but the smile you give when he talks proves otherwise. 

“No,” you force out in a mumble. 

“Are you sure?” 

It takes you some time to think about it. Your body’s been thrown for a loop since you hurt yourself, but you’re healing nicely, and your mental stamina is yards better than it had been. Peter asked you yesterday if you wanted a kiss and you couldn’t answer him for a full minute, and when you did it was an uncoordinated lift of your chin. You’re still in there, still his girl, just mildly incapacitated for the time being. 

“I might be,” you decide. 

Peter grabs a throw from under the coffee table and shakes it out over your arms and shoulders. “There. Need a drink?” 

“Do you?” you ask. 

“What?” 

“You’re asking me lots of questions,” you say, slowly, quietly, but not without character. “I thought I’d ask one back.” 

“I don’t need anything.” He tilts his head to align your faces, leaning in, not quite close enough to kiss you. 

“You look very serious right now, Spider-Man.” 

He glares for show. “So serious.” 

“Sorry I can’t really make you a drink.” 

Peter wipes the glare. “I’m sorry you got hurt. I don’t care that you can’t be my serf right now. When you’re better I’m gonna work you twice as hard, that’s all.” 

You raise a tired hand to his jaw. You’re extra careful to offset your wonky hand, stroking a clumsy but tender line from his ear to his chin. “Can you help me up?” 

Peter doesn’t question you. You’ve been recovering for a few days (he hasn’t realised before your injury that some people can take months to get better after a head injury, even without blood clots or fractures) and he’s not felt the urge to baby you beyond waiting on your every whim and want. If you’d like to sit up, that’s okay. The only thing he’d insist on is getting enough sleep at night, and thats something you’ll do happily.��

“Can I give you a hug?” he asks, his eyebrows pinching up at their starts. “I hate seeing you shiver, it makes me sad.” 

“Makes you sad?”

He squeezes your elbow where the blankets have fallen down. “Is that surprising?” 

You want to trade jokes with him but you can’t summon a retort, and your smile quickly fades. It can’t be nice, feeling a shade of yourself. Peter’s heart aches for you twice. 

“C’mere, pretty girl,” he says, slipping his arms under yours, encouraging you to wrap your own behind his head or let them rest behind his shoulders. He loves hugging you like this, almost lifting you, spider strength begging to be used as you sigh and settle into place against him. You feel a little like a shell of yourself, not quite quick with touches, fingertips twitching against his shoulder blade as he nuzzles his face against yours unabashed. “There you are. Where’d you go, huh? I was about to send out the search party.” 

“I’m right here.” 

“Yeah you are. Lucky me, right? Luckiest guy in the world.” 

You sigh happily beside his ear, your face pitching slowly downward until it’s pressing against the curve of his neck, your arms slipping down his front as you run out of energy. He doesn’t mind, bundling you up with no intention of letting you go. 

“How do you feel?” he asks. 

“Still fuzzy, like… it’s like we’re talking to each other through a screen door.” 

“Do you need something? Or want something? I’ll get you anything.” 

“I’m fine.” 

He lets out a sorry sigh. He wishes you’d want something, god knows he’d love to put a smile on your face. If you were feeling better you might ask him to go and get you something for dinner from across the city, or beg him to find you a bunch of flowers (which he’s always willing to buy). But sick, you ask for nothing. You just lay on the couch and wait to get better. Peter doesn’t think it’s super fair. 

“I’m sorry you’re not better yet,” he murmurs, his lips drifting down to your temple, which he kisses weakly, the barest brush of his lips. “Wish I could take it from you.” 

“I’ll be okay soon.” 

“I know you will, but I still wish I could take it. It’s shitty.” 

You think about this for a while. “It’s not shitty,” you work out finally, hand curling against his waist in a tired display of affection. “I have the… best boyfriend ever looking after me.” 

“I’ll be here until you’re better, you know that.” 

“I know.” 

Peter ushers you back and lifts your blankets, slotting himself next to you with a careful arm held behind your back. You show some surprising excitement at the offering of a cuddle and work under his arm, shuffling down the couch to leave you both laying on the same cushion, blankets uneven but warm over your chests. “You should probably go back to sleep,” he says. 

“Nap with me?” you ask, endearingly hopeful. 

He turns his face, intending on drawing lines into your cheek with the tip of his nose until you either fall asleep or can’t take it anymore. “Sure, baby. I bet you’re exhausted, huh? Let’s sleep.” 

He falls asleep before you, breathing snores into your cheek. You have enough wits about you to laugh, and then you fall asleep, too. 

[ghostssweetgirl]

hii again <3

this request is a litttlleee bit darker than usual but here we go

how would 141 react when someone slips something in readers drink at a bar?? like would ghost immediately stand up and beat the mf up?? 🥹

hi! omg they would all stand up and immediately beat some ass frfr & i LOVE dark stuff, dw :) <3 i'm not that good at writing action scenes but i hope this is goooood bc i do love the idea that they would fight for u

TF141 and How They'd React to Someone Slipping Something Into Your Drink

cw: alcohol intake, mentions of drugs, violence & blood

Captain John Price

He took the team out for drinks, sitting around the bar top. Everyone was having their own conversation, and it made his heart happy to see his people laughing with smiling faces.

While he was in a corner seat, he was making sure to keep an eye out on his team, as a good captain should.

You turned around for a minute, distracted. Soon as you weren't looking, some creep had sprinkled a powdered form of a drug into your drink, causing it to fizzle.

Of course, you didn't notice as you were watching a group of people playfully argue over their pool game.

You jumped back around when all of a sudden your captain's hands were at this guy's throat.

"You really thought you'd get away with that?" Price growled.

"Mind your fuckin' business, will you?" the creep retorted.

You made eye contact with Price, confused as to what was happening. "What the fuck," you whispered.

"Take it outside," the bartender said.

"Gladly, sir," Price chuckled darkly, dragging the guy by his shirt.

A few moments later, Price returned, kindly smiling at you. You could see the adrenaline pumping through his veins at his reddened face.

"Let's order you a new drink, yeah? Fucker ruined this one."

John 'Soap' MacTavish

You took a few sips out of your first drink, setting it down.

You smiled around at your comrades, happy to be there. A random chick walked up to you, asking you what you recommended her to order as she was new here and she just turned of age to start drinking.

You were busy chatting away, getting to know her, not noticing the random arm swooping around you, drugging your beverage.

Soap sitting next to you, picked up your drink and swiftly got up without a word.

"You okay, Soap?" you turned to him. You recognized the look in his eyes - anger. "M-my drink! What are you doing with it?"

He cornered the guy, not saying a word. His chest rose and fell heavily as he tilted his head, throwing the drink in the man's face before punching the shit out of him. He tried to fight back, missing his swing as Soap got him on the ground.

The bartender held his hands up, trying to politely ask them to take it outside but Soap was too quick in his actions.

Blood quickly splattered across the concrete floor, as well as across Soap's face and uniform.

"Get the fuck outta here," Soap demanded him, towering above him as he cowardly rose off the ground, basically tucking his tail as he ran out of the bar door. Soap looked at the bartender and back at the blood. "I'll clean it up."

He returned to his seat shortly after, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "Let's get you a fresh drink, lass."

Kyle 'Gaz' Garrick

You were laughing at one of Price's jokes with your drink in hand. As you laughed, your hand went outwards, giving perfect access for some weirdo to walk up and put a drug in it.

Gaz watched the interaction silently, taking your drink away from you while you wouldn't notice it.

In your drunkenness, you ordered a new drink, and it was quickly given to you but as you turned around, Gaz was gone. You looked around the building, and to your surprise he was face to face with someone, having a silent, heated conversation with someone.

The guy held his hands up in defense, seeming to try to explain himself.

Gaz looked at you, seeing your worried face. The creep met your gaze and he winked at you, his lips were moving but you couldn't tell what he said.

When suddenly, Gaz smiled. You couldn't tell if it was a genuine smile or the type of smile you give someone when you're really about to give it to them.

It was the latter. Gaz hiked his knee up, bringing the man's face down to connect with it sharply. Blood painted a small patch into Gaz's pants and blood leaked down the man's face. Clearly disoriented, he tried to fight back but Gaz landed one last blow before the man held his head down, regaining his balance, shortly leaving afterwards.

The bartender sighed, walking over with cleaning supplies and Gaz helped him out.

"What... was that about, Garrick?" you whispered.

"Don't worry 'bout it. Enjoy your 'good' drink," he rolled his eyes, and from that you could tell what had happened, happy to have been around your teammates when this happened.

Simon 'Ghost' Riley

You had finished quite a handful of drinks, making sure this was your last one.

You took a few first sips before setting it down, joining the conversation with your teammates.

Ghost, as usual, was quiet. Nodding along and joining the conversation when needed. He had been keeping his eyes peeled for something to happen.

Price complimented you and Ghost's teamwork, which you happily thanked him and smiled at Ghost who nodded at you, but his eyes weren't on you. They were focused at the left side of you.

You felt a presence, and before you could turn around it was gone. Looking back around, Ghost was gone, too. Damn, that was quick.

Trying to shrug it off, you go to grab your drink but couldn't find it. Now, what the fuck?

You look around confused, seeing your teammates eyeing the corner, so you follow their gaze.

Seeing Ghost, towering over someone, hand on his knife. Your eyes widened, hoping he didn't have to use it. He held your missing cup up to the man's face as if he was interrogating him. He was.

The man was near crying, lips stammering as he tried to explain himself, but Ghost wasn't having it. Ghost must have said something to set the guy off because he thought it would be a good idea to try and push past Ghost. The glass shattered from Ghost's grip. His body tensed up before one large hand clasped around the creep's throat, lifting him up the wall. He gasped for air until his face scrunched in pain as Ghost's fist met it with a violent punch. Then another. And another.

The bartender seemed annoyed, but Ghost couldn't give a shit. He let go of the now-unconscious man, letting his body fall to the ground.

Ghost sighed as he sat back down, nodding at you. You awkwardly smiled, putting two and two together on what happened.

"Thanks, Ghost..." you said.

"Want a fresh drink, luv? Sorry 'bout your last one," he asked.

"After that, yeah..."

[frogchiro]

hiii kin < 3 do u think we could get more butcher ghost plz … he’s been on my mind literally the time since YESTERDAY wen a big butcher man at the shop in my town complimented my dress & gave me xtra meat 🙏🏽

YOU'RE KIDDING??? Ok but now I'm legit jealous ;;

Okay but...Butcher!Si would definitely do the same :(( Ofc he always gives you some extra meat anyways, only choosing the best and freshest cuts to leave specifically for you, but this time it was a little bit different.

This time you needed to buy a whole chicken because your neighbours were coming over, a lovely older couple that helped you so much when you first arrived in town and you always want them to get the best possible hospitality whenever they come over so you decided to make some lemon roasted chicken, and who would be better to supply it than the lovely, older and huge butcher, Simon!

The thing is you don;t understand (at least not yet atp) what you do to the poor man's heart and cock. When he saw you strutting in, all cute and dolled up in that flowy yellow summer dress with that bright smile on your face, Simon felt like his breath was punched out of his lungs at once.

He'd compliment you in that gruff, low tone of his, throwing only a 'You look pretty', and everything else was kept inside his head, the fantasy of ripping the dress from your body and taking you up against the wall would have to wait until after his shift when he gets back to the privacy of his shitty flat so he can jerk off until he overstimulates himself <3

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Bro how would they react if they found out u got pregnant? Cuz yk their pirates and stuff so what would they do? U can do whoever but ik i want shanks, zoro, and mihawk you can do other people or not do the ones or dont do this at all👍 i want i jus want you to be comfortable writing this if you want to write it at all😭

I enjoyed writing this SO MUCH, thank you for the request!!

I just did Zoro, Shanks, and Mihawk for now. May end up doing one for Sanji and Buggy as well if anyone wants, but since I ended up writing these as little short stories instead of headcanons, I just decided to focus on those three this time.

Shanks is already such a dad honestly I lub him <3

So here we gooooo

Whoops

OPLA! Zoro, Shanks, Mihawk x AFAB!Reader

SFW, so fluffy I'm suffocating

Wordcount: 4.6k

No warnings, I think?

Zoro

It took you some time to dredge up the nerve to tell him. It was just a one night stand, after all. A lot of alcohol involved, nothing special. Sure, maybe you’d had a crush on him for a while, but that was in no way relevant. The incorrigible amount of liquor you had consumed had more than done the trick of acting as liquid courage, given you had awoken the next morning in his hammock, both of you stark naked, just a hungover tangle of limbs with no real memory of anything past making out on the quarterdeck while everyone else was staying the night in town.

That had been awkward enough—your eyes locking as you both stirred awake, your face turning beet reed as you scrambled off the green-haired swordsman and quickly threw on enough of your clothes to be able to safely escape, him speaking up behind you as you hurriedly dressed yourself.

“Did we—uh—”

“No idea,” had been your quick, curt response, making sure you didn’t turn around and meet his eye again. “Bye.”

“Wh—? Wait a minute—”

But you had already been out the door. You spent the following days, the following weeks avoiding being alone with the first mate of the Strawhats under any circumstance, avoiding any situation where you might have to actually talk about what had happened between the two of you.

But now you had to talk.

Middle of the night, with everyone else safely asleep so they couldn’t overhear, you stood over him as he lay asleep himself in that same hammock. You stood there for a long, tense moment, arms crossed tight over your stomach, tapping your foot lightly as you looked down at Zoro, deliberating over whether you really had the guts to go through with this.

You decide you have no choice, and you nudge his arm. “Wake up,” you say quietly.

He snores in response.

You sigh to yourself, and nudge his shoulder a little harder, say it again a little more forcefully. “Wake up, come on—”

He gives a small growl of protest at that, rolling his shoulders and stretching his toned arms out behind his head, before tucking one hand under his neck. He squints at you in the small, dark cabin, blinking slowly. The groggy, astonished sort of manner in which he mumbles your name makes your heart skip for a moment.

“Wha…?” He glances past you toward the cabin door, toward the darkness outside on the deck, and asks, “What time is it?”

“Two in the morning.” He quirks an eyebrow as you toe the wooden floor, staring off to the side, biting your lip. “We…need to talk.”

“At…two in the morning,” he repeats slowly. You hum in affirmation and give a small nod, already feeling your face starting to heat up—and you hear him sigh.

Then his hand is around your forearm, and you’re gasping out in alarm as he pulls you down across his chest until your eyes are level with his, your foreheads nearly touching.

His hand slips further up your arm, up your shoulder, back behind your neck, and your blush only grows hotter as he gives you a smirk. “Don’t think there’s really much to talk about.”

And he pulls you down, seizing your lips with his own.

Your brain all but short-circuits. You can barely remember how to breathe as your thoughts whirl. He kissed you. There isn’t a drop of alcohol involved this time, and he still kissed you.

Don’t think there’s really much to talk about.

Maybe that crush of yours was more mutual than you thought it was.

Your eyes flutter shut as you melt against him and return the kiss with a slow sigh, forgetting for a moment what you were doing here in the first place, your tongues meeting and swirling together, his hand drifting down your back, curling around the hem of your shirt and tugging at it and—

And this was exactly how you got into your present predicament in the first place. You tear your lips away from his and sit up at the edge of the hammock, flinching. “No, we…” You glance over your shoulder at him, briefly meeting his eyes as he stares up at you cautiously. “We do need to talk, I…” You swallow, and decide to just rip off the bandage, just say it. “I’m late.”

He’s silent for several seconds, and as you sit there, inwardly panicking, dreading his reaction, he finally speaks up.

“What the hell could you be late for at two in the morning?”

“What—no, I—” you sputter, jerking your head to look over your shoulder at him, sharing his stare of bafflement, as you realized he had no idea what you meant. “I…my period. I—is two weeks late.”

His brow furrows for a moment as that sinks in.

And his eyes slowly widen, and you look quickly away, flinching again, hanging your head.

“O…oh.” He sits up himself, swinging his legs over the side of the hammock to sit next to you, exhaling a slow sigh. “Shit.”

“Mmhmm,” you reply in a weak sort of hum, practically a whimper, watching him run a hand back through his hair from the corner of your eye, his eyes wide, unblinking, glued to the doorframe.

“I…guess it’s a good thing we’ve got a doctor now.” You glance over at him, swallowing nervously as he gives a small, breathless laugh, waiting for the other shoe to drop, waiting for him to be upset about it, even angry. It was just a stupid, drunken one night stand, after all.

Wasn’t it?

Not really much to talk about. His words ring in your head as you watch him fall back across the width of the hammock with another laugh, resting a hand over his eyes. He said it right before he kissed you, sober this time, as if maybe…there was more to it than just an alcohol-fueled one off fling.

“Y…you’re not upset?” you ask carefully, looking down at him.

“Nah,” he says, laughing a little again. He lowers his hand down to rest over his abs, meeting your eyes with a little bit of a grin. “I mean, it is kinda my fault.”

“It takes two,” you point out, frowning.

“Yeah, but you were drunk.”

“We both were.”

“You were really drunk.” You purse your lips and shove at his ribs as he laughs again, sitting back up. He drapes his arm around your shoulders, sighing and shaking his head. “Shit.”

“Shit,” you agree, nodding. “I guess…we talk to Chopper in the morning and…figure things out from there?”

“Yeah. Guess so.” You’re both quiet for a long moment, staring out toward the darkened deck. “You know…” You glance over when he sighs slowly again. “This crew’s…pretty much the closest thing I’ve ever had to family. That most of us have had, probably. Whatever happens with…this—we’ll all have each other’s backs.”

He isn’t at all wrong, and the thought is enough of a comfort to bring a slow sigh of relief from you as well, a small smile to your lips. You shift a little closer and rest your temple at his shoulder, your hand over his, your eyes slipping shut.

“Anyway.,,” Your eyes open when he speaks, and without warning he pushes you back down into the hammock, pressing his lips to yours—and your eyes flutter shut again as his tongue brushes your bottom lip amid the slow, playful kiss.

“Wait—” You draw back from it just as abruptly as you were drawn into it, lifting an eyebrow, fighting a smirk. “Isn’t this sort of what got us into this situation to begin with?”

“Yeah,” he says, lowering himself down to his elbow. He smirks as well, his hand resting at the crown of your hair. “But it’s not like you can get any more pregnant.”

You can’t help but giggle at that, hooking your arm around his neck and shaking your head, smiling. “Fair enough,” you agree, and lift your head to press your lips to his again.

Shanks

It all started three weeks ago, when you first missed your cycle. Your paranoia and anxiety that it could mean that, meant you had stopped drinking entirely. Shanks had been too busy to pick up on it, or simply as carefree and oblivious as ever.

But this morning you had awoken early, perhaps earlier than anyone else on the ship. You checked the position of the log posse and adjusted the course accordingly until it was pointing straight ahead again—and that was when you realized, by the sound of a match striking behind you, that you weren’t the first person awake—and someone had noticed the cessation of your drinking with the rest of the crew.

And almost the moment Benn Beckman confronted you about it, you blabbed your worries to the first mate, and you were fairly sure he nearly swallowed his cigarette.

“You’re what?”

You had joined the Red Hair pirates as a navigator around eight months ago, and had quickly fallen for the charming captain. There was no real agreement that there was anything more between the two of you than casual sex and flirting, nothing exclusive; but it hadn’t escaped anyone’s notice that the two of you were spending more and more time together, and that from an outsider’s point of view it looked a lot more like romance than anything casual.

But you were dead terrified that this news would ruin everything.

Beck just shook his head, grabbed you by the shoulder like a misbehaving child as you ranted, and walked you toward the door to the captain’s cabin. He opened it, and gestured at you to get in.

“You don’t come back out until you tell him,” he said, and you flinched at his stern tone. “Got it?”

“Got it…” you sighed wearily, hanging your head as you entered and shut the door lightly behind you. You had the idle hope that Shanks might be asleep as you entered but now, standing in the doorway, you can see clearly that he isn’t. He’s sitting up against the headboard of his bed—the same bed that you’ve been sharing every night for at least six months—and squinting at a map in the dim light of the lantern hanging from one of the bedposts, wearing an unbuttoned white shirt and black boxers. He looks up from it mid-yawn, and waves at you, nodding at the empty side of the bed to his right.

“You’re up awfully early,” he comments as you kick off your boots and climb into bed next to him.

“Just checking the course,” you say as he hands the map off to you—an old treasure map that you found helping clean out his rather cluttered desk a few weeks ago. “Any breakthroughs?”

“That.” He indicates a crude sketch of what appeared to be a statue. “It’s in Arabasta.”

“You’re sure?” you ask, looking over at him, and he nods slowly. “Oh, great. That’s…”

“Crocodile’s territory,” he says, as you let out a sigh that mirrors his own mildly dejected tone. “If we dock there we’ll be up to our tits in his Baroque Works wackjobs. Not that they’d pose us much of a threat, but…balance of power and all that.” He sighs himself, grabbing the map away from you again and tossing it off the side of the bed, where it flutters slowly to the floor a few feet away. “Not to mention it looks like it’s out in the middle of the desert somewhere. Not worth the time.”

“I guess not,” you say, frowning as you watch him sink back into the bed, his eyes slipping shut, unbothered by what might have been a disappointment to almost anyone else. He hadn’t mentioned the map to anyone else except for you and Beck, had kept it otherwise entirely to himself in case it did turn out to be a bust. Nothing ever really seemed to get under his skin.

You close your eyes for a long moment, bracing yourself. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t get under his skin either. Just as you open your mouth to speak, however, he speaks up himself.

“Now, something that’s much more worth my time…”

“Oh—!” You let out a small cry of alarm as he tugs you down suddenly to lie with him, and he shifts so he’s facing you, his forehead resting lightly against yours, his hand creeping slowly up your stomach to where the lapels of your shirt are tied shut, grinning wickedly.

“…is the beautiful woman in my bed who is, frankly, wearing far too many clothes.”

You can’t help but giggle a little as he sets straight to attacking your neck, his lips trailing down the column of your throat as he deftly works the knot loose, lightly nipping at your collarbone as he shifts you onto your back and brushes the lapels of your shirt open. Maybe you could drop it for now, just for now, you think disjointedly, your eyes slipping shut as his fingertips brush over one of the cups of your bra. Just until…

No. No, if you put it off again, you’re just going to keep putting it off.

“No—wait—” You grab his hand, pulling it away, and he lifts his head, raising his eyebrows in puzzlement. You swallow, glancing away for a moment before returning your gaze to meet his. “We…need to talk about something,” you say quietly.

The confusion in his eyes quickly shifts to concern at your hesitant tone, and he slowly lifts himself away from you, sitting up on his knees. “Alright,” he says, just as slowly, just as cautiously, looking at you as if you’re a ticking time bomb about to go off at any second. “What exactly is it that we—”

“I’m pregnant.”

You just blurt it out, before you can stop yourself, so suddenly that Shanks stops mid-sentence with his mouth hanging open. His eyes widen to saucers as he gawks at you, and he blinks rapidly a few times. “B—be—beg pardon?” he stammers.

You just swallow nervously and nod—you know he heard you. He draws in a deep breath, shoulders going limp, and lets it out after a moment as a tremendous sigh, running his hand back through his hair.

It was rare, if ever, that you had seen your carefree captain in an outright panic, but seconds later he was on his feet, pacing back and forth across the cabin, his hand curled over his mouth. You sit up as well, alternating between glancing at him and staring down at your knees, your stomach tied in knots. You’re sure that this is it, this is the end, this is your final stint sailing with the Red Hair pirates. A ship is no place for a child, after all, for a baby, for a woman with child—

He stops pacing suddenly, his hand slipping down to his chin. “Midwife. We’re going to need—that’s what they’re called, isn’t it?” You lift your head, staring at him in mild alarm as he resumes pacing, now rambling aloud. “We’ll need a midwife, I hardly think Hongo’s qualified—might know someone who is, but…” He shakes his head. “Still probably a good idea for you to talk to—have you?” he asks, stopping to look over at you, and you shake your head rapidly. The only inkling you have that you are pregnant is that you’ve gone well over a month without a period; you had been far too scared to talk with the ship’s doctor about the concern, afraid that he would go straight to Shanks and you would be shoved straight off the ship at the next populated port.

“We’ll need to set that up immediately,” he half-mumbles, and resumes pacing again. “How far along do you think you are?”

“I—er—” Your head is absolutely spinning. “M…maybe eight weeks?”

“Eight? That’s two months, tha—that means there’s only seven more, we’ll need—everything, crib, clothes, probably a rocking chair…”

You listen in growing astonishment as he rapidly lists off everything, already planning far more than you had even thought to, not even the slightest bit upset. He seems almost…excited. You swallow, exhaling a slow, shaking breath, your eyes burning a little as relief floods through you.

“…diapers—” He stops in his tracks again, lowering his hand from his chin and looking at it, frowning. “How am I supposed to change a diaper with one ha—”

He looks over sharply when a small sob escapes you before you can lift your hand to muffle it. You lower your head, closing your eyes tightly, gripping at the edge of the bed as that overwhelming flood of emotion becomes too much to contain.

“Oh—sweetheart…no, no no…” You hear him sigh, his footsteps quickly crossing the room. The bed sinks beside you as he sits down and wraps his arm around you, pulling you tight against his chest and resting his hand near the nape of your neck. “It’s alright, love,” he murmurs gently, combing his fingers through your hair, pressing a kiss to your temple. “It’s alright, we can handle this, okay?”

“I—I thought—” Your breath hitches as you turn your head so your cheek is pressed against his shoulder. “I thought you’d be mad,” you force out. “Th—that I’d—I’d have to leave and—and—”

He tightens his hold around your back, letting out a few soft chuckles and shaking his head. “That’s an absolutely ridiculous thing to think,” he tells you.

“It…didn’t seem ridiculous to me,” you say quietly, your voice choked.

“Well, it is,” he assures you again. “I don’t—look, love.” He shifts his hand from the nape of your neck to your cheek, lifting your head and pressing his forehead against yours. His thumb wipes away the tears streaming down your face, and he smiles warmly. “I don’t want you anywhere but right here. With me. Okay?” Your breaths leaves you in a trembling sigh at the sincerity in his soft tone, the softness in his brown eyes as he gazes into yours. You swallow, and nod quickly, closing your eyes for a long moment.

You draw in a sharp breath in surprise when you feel his lips press lightly against yours in a slow, tender kiss that eases almost all of your tension away in an instant. one of your hands slipping from your lap to rest against his knee as your lips just barely part.

“I love you,” he murmurs, and the knots in your stomach are gone as he lowers his hand to rest it there, smiling. “And we can handle this.”

“I…I love you too,” you whisper, and his smile only broadens at that.

He kisses you again, more firmly this time, before standing suddenly from the bed.

Before you can fully register what’s happening, he’s already heading out the door of the cabin and out onto the quarterdeck, calling out loudly, “Lads, I have an anno—where is everyone?”

You hear Beck scoff from somewhere nearby. “It’s four in the damn morning,” he says. “Probably sleeping.”

“Ah. Right.” A brief pause, and then Shanks goes on, so happily you can practically hear him grinning, “I’m going to be a dad.”

“Yeah,” says Beck. “Congratulations. Now maybe go put on some damned pants.”

“…Right.”

Mihawk

You already know he isn’t going to be happy. After your first missed period, you mentioned children. Merely in passing.

And he had immediately expressed his gratitude that there would never be any of the vile creatures roaming the halls of his castle.

Another three weeks, and you don’t have a choice but to bring it up. You’re losing sleep over it and he’s noticed, because of course he’s noticed. Mihawk doesn’t seem to miss anything, where you’re concerned—except perhaps this, which he seems to have not one single suspicion of.

You lay back on a plush sofa in one of the dens, your head resting in his lap as he sips a cup of coffee and flips through the newspaper, your eyes barely open. All you want to do is sleep. You’ve barely slept in a damned week, his words haunting you every time you do, his potential reaction to this upheaval of the peaceful existence you have both lived at his castle for the past several months.

“It’s likely because you’ve stopped having a glass of wine before bed,” he says, and you sigh to yourself. You had outright lied on that account, told him that for no reason you could discern you were suddenly getting horrible headaches any time you consumed even a drop of alcohol. “It’s been almost two months, you could try again.”

“N…no,” you say. “I can’t.”

He lifts the newspaper and glances down at you, lifting his eyebrows—waiting for you to elaborate. It’s now or never. You pull yourself up, drawing up every ounce of resolve in your body to meet his eyes as he looks at you in growing perplexity, his sharp eyes darting briefly down from your gaze as you bite your bottom lip lightly.

“I…can’t because…” You’re already feeling lightheaded, already reeling from the threat of what may come to pass. “Because I’m pregnant.”

His eyes remain locked onto yours for several tense seconds. He slowly folds down his newspaper and sets it aside on the end table. Slowly, gently as if you’re made of porcelain, he moves a hand down to your shoulder and lightly pushes you up into a sitting position. He opens his mouth, lifting his hand as if about to speak…and closes it again.

He tries once more, and words seem to fail him yet again.

And then he stands from the couch abruptly, without a word, and strides out of the room.

You’re fairly sure you know where he’s headed. You pull in a slow, deep breath, steeling your nerves to the best of your ability, before your rise to follow him. Surely enough, as you expected, you find him in the kitchen, pulling the cork out of a half-full bottle of wine. He glances briefly over his shoulder as you enter.

“How did this happen?” His tone is level, but you notice how he fills his wine glass nearly to the rim.

“Well, you see, when a man and a woman—” The glare he levels upon you shares none of your attempted humor, so you just sigh, leaning back against the kitchen island and crossing your arms. “Probably after that warlord meeting a couple months ago?”

“…Ah.”

That’s all he says on that matter—there isn’t much else to say. Whatever had happened at the meeting was a mystery to you, but it evidently had gone very poorly and been an absolute waste of his time, as he had returned to Kuraigana Island that evening in a bit of a foul mood and set immediately to downing two and a half bottles of wine. You had joined him in the endeavor, and the rest of the night was more than a bit of a blur. You only really knew that you both woke up on a couch rather than your bed the following morning, that you yourself could barely walk from the stiffness in your thighs, and that you had both bickered lightly through your shared hangover about who was going to get up to make coffee, before both giving up and going back to sleep for more than half the day.

“Well. This is…”

He doesn’t seem to be quite sure what it is, so he takes a sip from his overfull wine glass instead, leaning back against the counter opposite you, staring at the wall but clearly not actually seeing it. His eyes are far away, unfocused.

“…unexpected,” he finishes finally.

And takes another sip of wine.

“Mmhmm,” you hum in agreement, both your hands gripping at the counter behind you. You pull yourself up to sit there, your gaze glued to him, carefully studying his face for any sign of emotion, any reaction, but there’s nothing—just that blank, miles away stare. “S…so…what do you…what should we…” His eyes shift over to you, but only briefly, before shifting down to his wine glass.

“I…” He cringes slightly before going on, as if the admission physically pains him, “…don’t know.”

You know there are two things that Mihawk hates above all else in life—unexpected news, and a lack of control. Right now, experiencing both at once in tremendous measure, you can almost see the thin thread of his patience beginning to fray, and you aren’t sure what might happen when it breaks.

You swallow nervously, lowering your eyes when his gaze shifts over to you again.

You hear him sigh in resignation.

“We’ll need to find a doctor immediately to be sure,” he says curtly, and you give a stiff nod in agreement, glancing up at him. He’s staring down at his wine glass again, and continues to do so in silence for several long, tense seconds.

“You’re angry,” you say quietly. He sighs again, shaking his head, and sets the glass on the counter behind him. Your eyes fall to your knees once more as he crosses the kitchen toward you, and shift over to your hand when he rests his over it.

“Not with you,” he says lightly. There’s something different about his tone, but it isn’t anger. It almost frightens you more when you recognize it as uncertainty. You’ve never seen him uncertain about anything.

He pulls your hand lightly, and you slip off of the counter and onto your feet, sighing slowly yourself as he tugs you back against him, his arm curling around your waist. He brushes your hair behind your ear, behind your shoulder, and your eyes slip shut as his lips graze your neck. “I’m not sure if I possess the skillset necessary to be a very…adept parent,” he murmurs.

You can’t help but chuckle a little at that, relaxing back against him as his lips brush your neck again, a silent reassurance that he genuinely isn’t upset with you. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” You rest one of your hands over his at your waist; and you bring your other up, curling your fingers in his hair near his temple. “I can hear it now,” you say airily, smirking a little, and you go on in a mimicry of his dry, deadpan tone, “’Now, now, we’ve already established Daddy’s cross necklace is not a toy.” You giggle at his irritated sigh, as he pulls his arm tighter around your waist.

“Then again,” he says, “I do have to deal with you being a brat every day and I’ve yet to murder you.”

“See?” You pat his cheek lightly, and he grabs your hand to stop you. “Good practice.” You lean to the side a bit and turn your head, smirking at the wry look he gives you, and pressing your lips to his lightly for a moment. He exhales a slow sigh as your lips part, tilting his head forward until your foreheads touch. “We’ll figure it out,” you murmur softly.

“Yes…” His fingers lace through yours. “I suppose we will.”