#truly so soggy of him to do that

[lu-sn]

i wonder if you have given any thought about what Vegas was doing or thinking during that scene when he had a meal for two after Pete escaped? how did he come to, clean himself up, and when did he decide to make a meal for himself and Pete? did he think "Pete will come back, and I should cook for him, make up for the noodles i wasted, he must be really hungry"? at what point did he start to think that Pete isn't coming back like the other time, that this time he fucked up so bad there's never ever coming back from this (what happened later at hum bar notwithstanding). but how he still tethered himself to that hopeless hope, until his guard came with news that shattered that hope to pieces. i just really love that scene.

oh god oh god. thanks for giving me a Very Important Reason to go watch ep13 again. i feel like i'm about to go on a very long ramble pls brace yourself 😂

let's say pete leaves around early lunchtime, gets back to the main compound by late afternoon, and noodle rice breakdown is a very late dinner. i think this is reasonable, and fairly well-supported by the show (though we can't say for sure).

so vegas has about ten hours or so to drop into a depressive spiral. hooray! that's plenty of time.

i think he wakes up, and he's dazed for a bit, because he's probably still in physical shock from having the living daylights punched out of him. and then he sees the open cuffs on the floor, and his heart drops into his stomach. he sits there for a moment, and then he bolts out the door.

and he's not really chasing pete - but he's looking for him. he is hoping so desperately that pete has just left the room, or something - that pete is still on the island somewhere, because this has happened before. pete has chosen to slip his cuffs, and pete has chosen to stay anyways. and if pete is still here, then vegas can fix this, dammit.

and he scours the whole island. he finds himself futilely checking the same places over and over again, even as it becomes starkly clear that pete isn't there. pete is gone.

i like to think that at this point? he's ready to chase. he's ready to risk it all, leave the island and hunt pete down, because vegas is still trying to salvage this. if he could just talk to pete, touch him so softly, vegas can convince him that everything is okay, that they can start over and set all of their pain aside.

but he rushes back into the house, to prepare to leave, and stops short, because he sees the food his dad flipped onto the floor. and he stumbles into the kitchen, and sees all of the food preparation that he knocked over in a blind rage.

and he limps into the bedroom, sees the noodles that he so deliberately poured out onto the floor, and this is when it really truly hits him. pete left for a very simple reason. it is because vegas wronged him. it is because pete deserves better than to stay.

putting the rest under a cut, oh god, why am i like this-

for the next few hours, my guess is that vegas oscillates wildly between having a mental breakdown and suppressing said breakdown to clean up. he seems like the type to attempt to enforce order on his surroundings when his life is falling apart. the whole while, he is also oscillating between hope and despair.

the urge to chase pete is gone, because pete deserved to leave. but the hope that pete might still come back? it's still there, because vegas is the best liar, and the best liars convince themselves that their lie is true. pete deserves to stay away, but pete will come back, because they saw each other. he hurt pete. but he's hurt pete before, and pete has come back. it might take longer this time, and he deserves that, but pete felt something for him, pete offered up his wrists and then grinned at him so contentedly. pete didn't promise he would stay, but pete also touched his cheek so gently before leaving. pete wants to come back, he does, he does, he will.

so vegas looks at himself in the mirror, shirt stained with pete's blood, and he screams. and then he rips off the shirt, stands under the scalding water in the shower and tells himself that he needs to be clean. he needs to clean up all of the food, show pete that he understands what he did wrong, that he is sorry, he's so sorry. he crouches on the floor, puts his head between his knees, breathes rapidly and shallowly. pete isn't coming back. he's alone again. the panic passes, and he gets up and starts cleaning again. if pete comes back, he needs to be ready.

and when he's done cleaning, he's crawling out of his own skin, but he also can't leave to go find pete, pete has to come back to him. that part is important. he doesn't quite get why, but he knows it is.

and he sees all of the remaining ingredients in the fridge after cleaning, and it's almost subconscious. i think that the urge to take care of pete properly, the way he should have, is eating vegas alive from the inside. (top drop, perhaps.) and so that's how he manages to cook a whole meal for two, arrange it so carefully, because if pete does come back - he'll be ready to give pete the whole world.

he sits there, and he waits, and the sun sets, and the food grows cold. and i think he knows, deep down. but by god, he wants it so bad that he can't convince himself it's impossible.

of course, eventually the guard reports back, and then he can't lie to himself anymore. it's over.

vegas sits down on the ground, starts to eat by himself, because there's no point in waiting any more. and then he stops eating, and starts crying, because there's no point in eating without pete there to eat the food vegas made for him.

[sunflawyer]

🎫

✧⁠◝⁠(⁠⁰⁠▿⁠⁰⁠)⁠◜⁠✧

HI CAECAE !!! 💕💕 im using this gush pass because why not!! i need it tonight to send me to bed in peace... 💤💤

ANYWAY LOOK AT MY SCHMORPY 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡 god i feel so affectionate tonight i need to kiss him on the forehead so so so bad its just begging to be kisses atm tbh . he makes me feel so happy i feel butterflies whenever i see him. i want to pinch his wrinkled cheeks and kisses them 😭😭🧡🧡...

idk i just feel i want to kiss him a lot tonight mwa mwa ma mwa the second photo makes me want to hug him from behind and kiss his cheek and make him giggle like a schoolgirl 🥹

i want to tousle his hair so bad 😭😭😭😭 god his strangely perfect hair is just so fun to play with i want to make his hair look disheveled and messy i need it NOW NOW i want to showed him with kisses and affection and PDA right now aaaaa

[zeninsama-moved]

Mercury. Imagine a naoya x hairdresser reader LMFAO he comes in when his roots are like just BARELY peaking thru asking for a touch up. Rambling about some shit, typical day in the life of naoya. Washing his hair at the hair washing station and he gets all hard when your tits are in his face—

he's such a baby </3 but he'd look cute sitting in the chair all grouchy with the cape draped over him, fussing over his roots – and for a man that talks a lot of shit, he sure is blushing real hard when he's got a face full of boob.

[tteokdoroki]

Denji blushes when you hold his cock hand

☆༉ — DENJI. pretty boy.

about. let’s pretend this ask isn’t years old but yeah actually he does omg :( !! started writing this ages ago but finished for @miguelism mwah <3

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact. characters aged up to 20s, smut, nsfw, handjobs, exhibitionism, praise kink, college!au, gn!reader, roommate!denji.

“denji…”

“uhuh— i mean, uh, yeah?”

“has anyone told you, you’ve got such a pretty cock?”

you feel the entirety of denji’s length twitch within your hold— his head full of sunshine blonde hair falling back on the wall you’ve caged him against. your fingers are soft, pillowy around his thick shaft and your thumb presses to his leaky slit curiously, watching his face for a reaction. “y-you’d be the first…ah—fuck!” denji whimpers, golden brown eyes falling away from the world as you give your wrist an experimental flick, testing the waters on what you can do to him. “that’s nice…that’s real nice.”

you giggle, his precum oozing into the seat of your palm the more you start to jerk him off in the right space of aki’s bathroom. “yeah? i want you to feel good, denji.” you doubt that your roommates would want to be woken up by slick sounds and whiny whistle tone moans, so you step forward and reach out into the dark— pressing your lips against your boyfriend’s in a slow, syrupy kiss.

it’s adorable how he chases the warmth of your mouth, like a moth drawn to a candle flame, when you pull away to check the door only briefly. “come back, baby…please,” he pleads while he feverishly fucks your hand as if he’ll never get the chance to do so again. “feels good when you’re close…when you kiss me ‘n you use…shit, y-your t-tongue on me!” pleading turns to soggy, pathetic whimpers that are muffled by your tongue as you push your way back into denji’s mouth to shut him up.

you make denji feel like he’s going fucking insane, desire ripping through is chest, lewd squelching noises from his cock bleeding arousal all over your hand overlaying his soundtrack of moans and tongue lapping over tongues. opaque white slings around your knuckles as it drips from his creamy tip, only serving to guide your fist up and down his throbbing a little easier — as if it were a makeshift flesh light.

he really is so cute like this — pliant and needy underneath you, his body seizing up at your sensual ministrations and his skin shiny with sweat under the moonlight. the chainsaw devil can’t help but hiccup loudly despite how you pacify him with sweet, loving smooches. tears slip down the apples of his cheeks and track salt along your tongue too where they land at the corner of denji’s mouth. “you look so pretty with your cock in my hand,” praise for denji comes easily to you — he deserves to be cherished, to know that he’s good and loved. squeezing the base of his length, you push your thumb through his seedy slit just to see him cry, circling his bright red and mushroomed cockhead in order to lube him up more.

a pink flush blossoms across the expanse of his milky skin with every pump of his dick and his his head falls back against the wall with a dull thud. you lick your lips at the sight of his adam’s apple bobbing and his body shuddering, revealing to the naked eye just how desperate denji truly is.

“do you think you could cum for me, denji?”

the stutter in his hips tells you the answer, but you want a verbal one anyways — so for a moment, you stop palming his dripping wet cock and wait for his response.

“well?”

“please, i can do it,” he pants, eager to please — his honey brown eyes crazed and delirious. “j-just call me pretty again. ‘nd i promise i’ll—“

even with his back pressed right up against the wall and his shoulders quivering in anticipation of his impending high — denji still towers over you. so you stand on your tippy toes, languidly flicking your wrist to get him off, in order to whisper your command into the shell of his ear. “make a mess for me, pretty boy.” you simper, mouth falling open to mock his moans like you’re right on the edge with him.

denji cums with a shout and his release spills into your spoiled palm like a stream of molten igneous rock, painting your knuckles a gooey white. you have to cover his mouth with your remaining hand, muffling any sounds that escape him since his brain quite literally short circuits, reducing the poor blonde to nothing but tears and brainless babbles.

you do your best to keep him quiet while he twitches through the aftershocks — after all, it would be a shame if some else got to see your pretty boy blushing with his cock out.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2023. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[linopls]

kinktober day three

makeup sex minho x fem!reader summary: minho hasn't been the best boyfriend lately, but he wants to make it up to you. warnings: SMUT MINORS DNI, soft soft soft sex, unprotected sex 1.3k words

you’re sat at your kitchen table, your eyes are swollen and your nose is red. a mug of coffee between your hands, it's been sitting for so long it's gone cold. the table is littered with tissues and a full bowl of soggy cereal is left completely uneaten.

“y/n.”

you hear a familiar voice call out your name. you never even noticed that someone came through the door. you sniffle and wipe your nose with your sleeve and turn around.

“get out,” you whisper when you see who’s standing in your doorway.

“y/n,” minho sighs. “i’m sorry.”

minho walks towards you and you turn around and lay your head on the table. he pulls one of the kitchen chairs up next to you and sits down. he places one of his hands on your back and rubs smalls circles.

“y/n, i’m sorry.”

“i don’t want to hear it,” you snap and sit up. 

minho pulls his arm away quickly and places it in his lap. 

“you ignore my calls, my texts, you don’t do surprise visits anymore.” you turn to face him. “you haven’t said i love you in two months, two months!”

you begin to cry. minho scoots his chair closer and places one of his hands on your cheek.

“y/n, i’m sorry. you might not believe me, but i am truly sorry. i promised you i would come over last night and i didn’t. i’ve been distant without reason and i am sorry. so truly sorry.” you can see tears start to form in his eyes, and for a second you almost feel guilty.

“am i not good enough for you?” you ask between choked sobs.

“y/n,” minho says meekly. “don’t ever say that.”

“i can’t think of any other reason.”

“i’m scared,” minho confessed. “i am scared to love you. i want to love you and give you everything your heart could ever desire but i am scared. everything i’ve ever cared about or love disintegrates before me and i don’t want that to happen with you.”

“oh.”

minho wipes a tear from your cheek and leans in to kiss you. you apprehensively kiss him back. he kisses you slow and gentle, continuing to wipe the tears that fall onto your face. he pulls away and connects his forehead to yours.

“y/n, my love, will you ever forgive me?”

you ponder for a second, wondering if you should give him a second chance. his words seem genuine. you’re interrupted from your thoughts by him asking.

“can i show you how sorry i am and then you can decide?” he slowly caresses your cheek again and plants a kiss on your nose.

“please,” he cries.

you nod and he stands up from the chair and picks you up bridal style. 

“you’re wearing my sweatshirt,” he points out. 

“mhm, i missed you,” you mumble.

once in your room, minho gently lays you down on your bed. he moves to the end of the bed and starting at your ankles, he slowly kisses his way up your clothed body, whispering an assortment of compliments as he makes his way up.

“you’re so pretty,” he says as he kisses right below your knee.

“you’re the soulmate of my dreams,” he whispers, kissing at your stomach.

“i love you more than words can say.” you can feel his warm breath on your neck.

“you’re my one and only,” he mumbles against your jaw.

“i love you, y/n,” he says before softly pressing a kiss to your lips. 

you’re quick to interlock your lips to his. his gentle actions and sweet words make tears pool in the corner of your eyes. you cusp both hands around his cheeks and he wraps one of his arms around your lower back to pull you closer to him.

minho is the first to pull away, breathless his whispers, “god, y/n, i love you so much. i’m so sorry i ever caused you pain.”

you caress your thumbs against his cheeks. “please, minho, i need you,” you whine.

minho begins to kiss back down your jaw and neck. he leaves several marks along your collarbone and moves down to kiss your lower stomach. he hooks his fingers under the waistband of your pants and gently pulls them down your legs, placing gentle kisses at your exposed skin.

“min,” you whimper.

“don’t worry, baby, i’m gonna take care of you.”

he places his hands on both your knees and gently parts your legs. he moves himself face to face with your core, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. he places a gentle kiss to your clit and licks a long stripe from your hole to your bud. you moan quietly and your back arches, begging for more. minho wraps one of his arms under your thighs and latches his lips to your clit, sucking gently on the bundle of nerves.

you moan and whine in response, interlocking your fingers in his hair trying to move him as close as possible. minho moves his unoccupied hand to your hole, gently teasing it with one of his fingers. he pushes the finger in slowly and you moan out in pleasure.

“please, minho,” you whine.

he slowly begins to fuck his finger in and out of your sopping wet hole. before long, he adds a second and third fingers. you feel yourself quickly coming to your release and you tighten your grip on his hair and slowly rut against his face. minho works slightly faster and hums and moans against your cunt.

“i’m gonna cum,” you moan, rutting against his face uncontrollably.

“mhm,” he responds, not breaking contact from your core.

with a few more thrusts of his thick fingers, your orgasm takes over your body. minho’s never made you finish more intensely. your eyes roll to the back of your head, your back arches off the bed, and you can feel your release drip down your thighs. after fucking you through your orgasm, minho starts to lick up the release dripping down your thighs and places one last kiss to your sensitive core before moving back up to attach his lips to yours.

“need you,” you mumble against his lips.

minho chuckles. “want me to go again?”

“no, no, no. need you,” you whine, grabbing his hips and pulling them against yours.

“oh, of course, anything for the love of my life,” he says, slowly taking his sweatpants off.

you part your legs for him again and he lines his dick to your core and pushes in slowly. you both moan softly as he pushes himself full inside you. minho balances himself on his knees and grabs one of your legs from the underside of your knee, pushing it back against your body. he slowly slides himself out and back in, the new angle causing you to moan loudly. he moves his unoccupied hand to your clit and rubs small and gentle circles on the already sensitive bud. 

“s-so good,” you moan, grabbing his forearm with both hands.

minho giggles and starts to thrust faster into you. the overstimulation causes tears to form in your eyes, you can quickly feel the knot form in your stomach again as minho begins to work faster on your clit. 

“fuck, i’m gonna cum again.”

“cum with me please,” minho moans, pushing your leg even closer to your body and fucks into even faster.

you nod and let your release take over your body once again. minho is quick to follow and you can feel him twitch and paint your walls white. the feeling makes your eyes roll back and toes curl. minho slowly continues to move through both your orgasms. when you’ve both calmed down, he gently collapses on top of your body without pulling out and nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck.

“i love you,” minho whispers, placing one last kiss to your neck.

soft minho hours fr

@rockstrhanji @hyunjinhoexxx @mixtape-racha @euphoric-univers @haruharu-egypt @shit-why-what @twiggoblin @kookiesbunny @virgohannie @nataliee10 @ihrtlix @aaasia111 @lolli4me @lilcutieana @changbinsrightboob @hanjisunglover @chansducky10 @elissasimp @boi-bi-ahaha @lilquokka04 @anglerfishiey @sirenscall1031 @might-be-a-rat @jihyun2monster @kpflyn @samsmitty @imwithurmother @meilix @summer3sworld @mysweethannie @kittykattime @linoots @yaorzu-blog @sofiaeli 

@alemi-i @cupidsmoons @yoongles2025 @vixensss @chlooooop @lemontried @idkluvutellme @superiorbrownskinn @ana-stasssiaaa @amayaaseees @ilikecatsanddoritos @alnex05 @esairevmp @greysweaters-blog @sanzusfavgf @jutannies @faraonatojishady @hanniemylovelyquokka @chloeskzboomboom @quinnluvsmoney @burningupp-replies @aisha-md @jo-dinner @jeannie-beannie @httpsimmy @hazneezs @cuffier 

@dvbkie099 @il0v3skz @chrishak@quokkaaah @bex90997 @sheeshhhhfelixsworld @leeknowyah @tumadreposts @hyunniebunni @cipher-ipher @alice630 @jinnies-princess @bangtancultsposts @evrythinghqppened @rebellescauses-blog @juicypebbless @fawnpeaks @the-life-of-stella @lakoya @compersian @seung-mine 

[dredgesnails]

i love what ren adds to hermitcraft i truly am enamoured with every piece of him. to me he is like a dog who loves to play in the rain and every time youre like no rendog i will get wet and sick and he goes “please im a theatre kid please i need this enrichment so bad” and i go okay rendog i guess i will go outside with you in the rain and risk catching a cold so you can play in the mud and make me throw a soggy tennis ball for you to fetch. yes i guess i am having a lot of fun even if i’m pretending like it bothers me. let’s do this again tomorrow

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Dirty Work 2

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as bullying, familial discord/abuse, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You start a new gig and find one of your clients to be hard to please.

Characters: Loki

Note: Let me know if you want more. Didn't get too much on Part 1 but I have ideas so...

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Your third week begins in the same place. Before the iron gate, the code unlocking the green maze within. You’re still just as impressed as your first day there. To you, it’s like a fantasy. Entirely unattainable but it’s right there. You can look, but you can’t touch… not beyond cleaning.

You linger outside, not thinking. You admire the tall tulips and the hedge trimmed to resemble some landmark you can’t quite place. You could see a place like this in an Austenian film or perhaps something Victorian. You don’t have an eye for the difference.

You key in the code for the backdoor and continue on. You put covers on your shoes and grab a fresh set of gloves. You’re getting into a pattern, though each client differs slightly. You put your things away and bring your water bottle with you. You bought a cool strap that keeps it against your hip, a small splurge with your first paycheck. The rest went to bills.

As you start on your usual journey through the many rooms of the airy house, you wonder how its sole resident isn’t lonely. Or perhaps he is. He doesn’t seem the type to admit to it. You turn your thoughts back to your work. You try not to think of him, truly, you don’t know much of him.

You take a candlestick and polish it. You move on the small globe; an ivory orb on a silver axes, the outlines of the continent carved into the surface. As you put it back, you notice something. An item you can’t recall being there before. You reach for it but stop as you realise it’s a camera.

You retract your hand and move on to dust the shelf itself. Does he not trust you or was it there before? Of course, somewhere like this would need security. There was a story just the other day about a break-in, but that was closer to your father’s where those culprits dwell.

The second floor is always easier. It seems even less lived-in than below. All but the study and the main bedroom. You flit in and out, checking points off the list until you’re content. You can only hope he will be too.

As you descend, the epiphany tickles your brain. It’s the first shift he hasn’t appeared. It’s easy to assume he’s busy. You don’t expect him to hang around. As if he would supervise you. Besides, that’s probably what the cameras are for.

You pack up and get your single refill of water. You leave the way you came, as you have twice before. The keypad flashes red to signal the lock is in place. You haul your kit higher on your shoulder and tread slowly along the little path along the side of the house.

You look at the gazebo trimmed in hanging ivy. It’s beautiful. You’d like to venture up and sit on that bench. Just sit and watch and smell and feel. You force the thought away and turn back along the stonework.

You’re going home. Not to pollen but tobacco smoke. Not to lush gardens but wilting strands in soggy mud. Not to immaculate floors and pristine decor but to stained walls and broken springs in your mattress. 

Home, to another man that makes you nervous.

🧹

Your father is as he always is, smoking on the couch. You say hi as you come in with a bag of groceries, the prize for what was left of your check. He grumbles and flicks through the channels. You go to the kitchen to put away the food.

You’re almost at the end of your first month, a third of the way through your probationary period. Hopefully after that, you can pick up more clients. You shut the cupboard and go back to the living room. Your father coughs into a crumpled tissue. He sounds horrible. You can’t say so, he doesn’t seem to care.

“I got some fresh produce,” you announce proudly, “I’ll steam some veggies with the chops.”

“You get fries?” He growls.

“Uh, no,” you admit, “I thought we could eat something healthier–”

“I don’t like steamed veggies,” he drops the remote and grabs his pack of smokes.

“Oh, sorry, I was only thinking–”

“Don’t lie and say you were,” he snorts as he pulls out a cigarette and taps the end of the pack. “Go on, I’m tryna watch this.”

He nods at the television and you follow his gaze to the rerun of All in the Family. He’s seen them all before. You take the dismissal and retreat up to your room. Like you always do.

It’s always been like this. You don’t hate your father but sometimes it feels like he hates you. You put your kit and your water bottle on your dress and change into clean clothes. You lay in bed and close your eyes, trying to let go of the tension in your muscles.

You don’t remember your mom but he does. You assume that’s why he’s like this. It’s not you, it’s what happened. Tragic. A loss he won’t talk about.

You rub your forehead and let your arms fall to bend on either side of your head. You only ever saw one picture of your mother. You don’t think you look like her. She was pretty. And young. You were always too afraid to ask about her but you could tell she was younger than him. No one could’ve expected her to go so soon.

You close your eyes. It’s a strange sort of grief to miss someone who is only a shadow in your mind. Not even a voice, just this ghost you know by name. Mommy…

You blow out a deep breath in an effort to bid away the sadness. That was so long ago. This is now and you have a lot to worry about.

🧹

The Laufeyson house greets you once more with its elaborate brickwork. It’s starting to feel familiar, like a habit to put in the new code and walk along the winding path around to the back door. Six more numbers and you’re inside; shoe covers, gloves, bottle, and the list.

You always check the new email sent by the agency. There’s always something small and new squeezed into the bullet points. This week, you notice the first task is laundry. 

‘Retrieve hamper from hallway. When hamper is left outside door, it means clothes must be washed.’

Easy enough. You go upstairs first and take the tall hamper from beside the door frame. It’s heavy and there’s no wheels to aid in your struggle. The laundry room is downstairs. Your descent is treacherous, one step at a time as you haul the basket down step by step. If Mr. Laufeyson is there, he can’t happy with the noise.

You finally get to the machine and follow the instructions about cycle type and separating colours from whites. However, there is only the bedding to be cleaned. You load the linens in and take a moment to figure out the touchscreen. Your father’s machine has a dial that only works on one setting and gives off a dingy stench.

You leave the basket in front of the washer and retreat to start your usual progression through the urban manse. Mop, sweep, dust, vacuum, polish; hallway, kitchen, dining room, sitting room… Nothing unusual or unexpected.

As you cross the narrow foyer to the den, the sunshine glows a warm orange through the slender windows on either side of the front door. The patterning of the glass reflects prettily on the floor. Despite your best efforts, you can’t help but imagine residing somewhere so brilliant.

You sigh and carry on. You’re sure to open the long drapes to let in the late spring sunshine. It’s not so bad working in the light and you can see where the rare spec of dust is hiding. You go to the tall shelf beside the record player and pull out the albums to wipe beneath them. Music would be jarring in a place always so silent.

You slip the albums back into place, pulling out one to admire the cover; Ane Brun. You’ve never heard of them. You read the track list curiously. You know you shouldn’t be wasting time.

“I don’t believe I’d have anything to your taste on my shelf,” the mocking slither has you pushing the album in line with the rest.

You almost apologise but you remember. You don’t speak. You just clean. So clean.

You glance over at Mr. Laufeyson as he struts in, a book held in one hand as his other is tucked in his pocket. He wears his usual pressed attire; a dark button-up and even darker slacks. You note that he has no tie that day. A single curl dangles by his temple as the rest of his black hair is precisely combed back.

You return to your tasks, gently wiping the cover of the record player and along the stand. You  hear the book drop onto the low table before the sofa before his footsteps continue on; closer. He approaches as you get to the next shelf, a collection of EPs in unmarked sleeves.

You wince as he stops near you, flipping up the cover of the sleek record player before stepping back to peruse his selection. You do your best to keep on as he looms. The air is thick and suffocating. Should you go to the next room and come back?

He slips a record free of its sleeve and places it carefully on the players. He moves the needle over and flips the switch, a crackle before the sound drones from the tall standing speakers. Acoustic guitar with a gritty feel to it. The sudden addition of a woman’s voice jolts you; her tone is peculiar but not unpleasant.

When I woke I took the backdoor to my mind And then I spoke I counted all of the good things you are

He backs away without a word. Not an explanation. You finish cleaning the second shelf and dare to glance over. He reads his book on the couch, unbothered by your existence. That isn’t too unfamiliar.

You finish the space but leave the vacuuming for later. You wouldn’t want to ruin the music. You go into what you can only call a sunroom. The french doors peek out onto the garden and a patio set with a large dining set in white iron and glass.

The music drifts in and keeps you company. It almost makes the work easier. You make quick work and go to check the washer to switch over the load. Once you have the dryer figured out, you begin on the second floor.

It’s only as you come out of one of the guestrooms that you notice the silence is returned. You turn down the hallway and near the next door. You enter the study with your usual reverence. Something about the space is intimidating. 

The large leather chair with its dimpled back and the even bigger desk; slabs of marble set into polished ebony. Shelves of a similar material, decked out with numerous volumes and the occasional ornament. Some appear even to be genuine artifacts. The rug at the centre is patterned in Persian style.

Behind the desk are a set of doors that open onto a balcony. The drapes are drawn shut. You find that is often the case. It’s a sombre and dark space hidden from the bright gardens without. Your tasks here are minimal. You use the hand vacuum and dust the shelves. You aren’t to touch the desk at all.

A shadow startles you as you drag the cloth along the edge of the bookshelf. Your eyes round and you look over as Mr. Laufeyson enters. You blanch but he doesn’t acknowledge you. He sighs and goes to the desk, sitting in the chair and wheeling it closer. You narrow your sights on the shelves; focus.

You feel a tremble but quickly shake it away. This is his home, he must be able to exist within it, but this feels strange, almost deliberate. Is he trying to make some point? To scare you? You remember the mention of those who came before you. Did they quit or did he dismiss them? Regardless, you can’t afford either.

It isn’t that difficult to follow the rules. Don’t speak? You haven’t much to say. You get closer as you advance along the shelves to the back of the office. He lets out another long exhale. His chair creaks, once, twice, and again.

“Hm,” he rolls back and swivels, an action you observe from the corner of your eye. He tuts and wheels back to the desk, resuming tapping on the keys of his slender laptop. The glow limns his silhouette sinisterly.

You rustle the drapes as you pass them and cross to the opposite shelves. As you brush over the spines of the books, you nearly drop the cloth. His low hum frightens you as he mimics the same melody that played from the speakers below. His tone is deep and sonorous, even delightful.

You squeeze the cloth and pause before regaining your composure. This cannot be a coincidence. The camera and now he’s following you. Or so it seems. Does he distrust you? What reason have you given him?

You are mindful to wipe down the bronze statue of what you assume is a viking warrior. You place it back staunchly, making sure your work is entirely visible to him. You are honest and you like to think you do your work well. Or at least, you try to. Perhaps if he sees that effort, he won’t be so suspicious.

As you head for the door, he quits his humming. His chair squeaks again.

“You are rather more thorough than the last,” he muses.

You stop and turn your head. You nod. He’s baiting you to break his number one rule.

“And you take orders well,” he adds blithely, “that is rare these days.” He taps a key again, “as you were.”

You take the dismissal in stride and flit off to your next task. It isn’t much, maybe only a statement of fact, but it’s something. He isn’t unhappy with your work. So far, neither are you.

[justanothervoreblog]

From Bro to Brotein

Steven and Michael have been Bros since 7th grade. They found a mutual love of working out and it soon blossomed into a full nurtured gym bromance. They kept each other accountable, they pushed each other, and they wanted to be the same size. Their target weight, the 250 lbs club. A club that was so prestigious that both men busted their ass for it.

Yet for all their dedication, Steven and Michael couldn't find a way to break into that illustrious weight category. That was until, Steven discovered a way to put on mass bulk researching weight gaining tips. To eat someone completely and utterly, digest them, and add their weight to yours. A ridiculous notion, right? It was until Steven finally put it into action.

Both men had gotten done at the gym, still slightly sweaty underneath their gym clothes. They were going to their usual post protein snack spot. Michael was hungry, but Steven was starving himself for gains. As they got out of their car to enter into the restaurant, Steven pounced. His mouth opened wider than what seemed humanly possible and wet "GLOMLP" sound was heard around Michael's ears. Michael's head had been devoured in just one gulp. Michael struggled, but Steven clamps Michael's arms by his side.

Steven swallowed Michael's head and neck, it bulges on Steven's throat going down. He could hear Michael's muffled shouts through his bulky neck. He paid them little mind as he turned his best friend into a snack. Afterwards those wide and beefy shoulders came into Steven's mouth. Steven was soaking Michael in his saliva. It draws out the taste even through the layers of fabric that Michael had on. With the widest part of Michael's body now headed down his throat, Steven knew that his meal was all but accomplished.

Steven fed his mouth Michael's chest and drooled as if this was his first meal. Steven remembered all the progress pics that Michael had taken. All that beef, it belongs to him. With another swallow, Steven can feel the bumps of those rock hard abs even through Michael's hoodie. Those delicious bumpy muscles are explored as Michael's hoodie lifts to expose them. Soon after, Steven opens his mouth to nibble and chew on those muscular globes. Michael had always had a dumpy truck ass, but tasting it now made him question himself in a few places. This temporary confusion causes Steven to slap Michael's ass a few times. Steven ignores his temporary confusion to power down the rest of that delectable bubble butt.

Michael was curling up more and more behind Steven's powerful abs. Although they were giving away to Michael's bulky and muscular form. As sure as the day is long Michael's body bulges Steven's hoodie from underneath. His long athletic legs are slowly reduced. Those hefty thunder thighs don't last long against Steven's ravenous hunger. Neither do those herculean calves, doubled up like a couple of turkey drumsticks. Steven's tongue snakes out to collect those socked feet, Michael's slides falling and clattering to the ground. With one final, hungry and triumphant gulp, Steven bellies his best friend.

There is an audible bounce when Michael truly lands inside of Steven's belly. It's cramped, squishy, and hot inside. There's barely any room to move. On the outside, Michael's form was clearly visible. Steven runs his hands over the bulge that Michael made. Every twitch of Michael's form sent pleasure to Steven, including down south. Steven leans back for a moment, his belly acting like a counterweight. At first he thought he was feeling bout of indigestion from such a hefty meal. However a rumble in his belly races up through his chest and out his mouth.

BWAAAAAAAAAAAAOOOOOORRRRRRRPPPPP!

The burp shakes the entire parking lot. A pile of Michael's soggy clothing comes flying up landing neatly next to his slides. Steven proudly rubs over his belly and fingers his belly button. As much as he valued his friendship with michael, he valued his relationship with his body much more. Satisfied after smacking his lips, tasting Michael's delicious flavor again, he waddles back to the car and heads home. Once home, Steven takes a couple of before pictures in the mirror. Various poses of him holding his titanic gut in front of him. All the while his heavy belly gurgles as it begins to break down the stud trapped within. Steven flops on his bed, a possessive hand over his belly with a smile. Then he drifts to sleep while his belly works overtime on his Michael.

A few days later, Steven goes to the scale after completely digesting Michael. He was a little anxious. Steven had waited until Michael had completely digested. He hoped that digesting his best friend was going to be worth it for all of this. After stepping on the scale, Steven smiles down at the number between his feet.

250 lbs

"Thanks, Mike." Steven smirks before stepping off the scale and heading to the gym. As he drives, a new goal weight was set in mind and he knew just how to get there.

[yinyuedijun]

hi I am testing out whether or not I'm shadowbanned. however I don't want to spam the main tags w irrelevant posts so I am offering this snippet from art of the bedchamber part 2 \o/

tw soggy sfw danheng (pre-1.2)

Dan Heng remembers when he assumed his human form for the first time.

It is a difficult scene to forget: the wreckage of an IPC ship, engulfed in the red glow of emergency lights. A robotic voice signalling the steady loss of air: Attention, attention, the system had blared in a pleasant, sunny tone. Attention to all passengers. The Altair has experienced irreparable damage to its seal. There are 120 minutes until complete oxygen depletion. Please make your way to the lifepods. The Vega is on standby to receive all survivors. Attention, attention.

The PA system said nothing of the vengeful ghost who’d wrought all that destruction—both upon the ship and its passengers. Probably everyone who could have made such an announcement was dead.

Yinyue Jun, the wraith had called him, mara-poisoned eyes shining as his gaze fell upon his features. The same features that Dan Heng was now studying in the broken mirror, fragmented by cracks running through the glass. Dan Feng. Sinner. You’ll never escape your karmic debt. You'll never escape your punishment. I’ll find you whenever you are, no matter how far you run. Even if I forget everything else of my mortal life, I'll never forget your face.

His face.

Dan Heng had never seen much of his own face in the darkness of the Shackling Prison, but he'd been strung up and whipped for its likeness. Punished for whom it once belonged. This is simply the weight of your karma from your past life. It was you who buried your beloved. It was you who nearly destroyed your homeworld. It was your fault, Dan Feng, that she died. How could you do that to her? To your friend? High Elder, do you know how the Vidyadhara suffered for your pride? It is you who is at fault for the deaths of so many of our kin. You, you, you. This is what you deserve, Yinyue Jun, for your arrogance. it matters not if it was your past life, it matters not if you're now a child, you have no right to shed those tears—

Seeing his face—Yinyue Jun's face—for the first time then, with its gleaming irises, its jadeite horns, its otherworldly glow—

—Dan Heng hated it.

His features were a curse, one not unlike the powers he'd inherited. You should never be allowed to roam free, Dan Feng. You cannot be trusted with the powers of a High Elder. Not with how you lost control in your last life.

You are a danger to us all, Dan Feng.

This is what you deserve.

Dan Heng was eager to sculpt a new face for himself. Relieved to lock away his powers. Anxious to paint into existence a dream he’d long imagined as a child. The dull green of his eyes, the short clip of his dark hair, the only hint to his past a cinnabar stroke along his lashline—these were features he’d long envisioned for himself growing up in the Prison, devouring countless novels about worldly life on the Luofu. All those stories about human men and women, leading quaint and romantic lives unfettered by destiny. All those tales about mortals far removed from his existence as a disgraced High Elder.

Looking like this—plain, unassuming, without the marks of a Vidyadhara elder—Dan Heng could pretend to be one of those mortals. He could act like he'd never felt the bite of shackles in his wrists. Like he'd never felt the burn of a welt slashed across his back. Like he'd grown up in sunlight, not the darkness of a cell.

He could act as if he were in control of his own destiny.

It would be impossible, of course, to truly entertain these delusions. But he still likes to imagine it every now and then—particularly with you, nowadays. He thinks of it when he stares at your reflections in the mirror in the early morning, brushing your teeth side by side. He thinks of it when sees the photos that March 7th has taken of the two of you, pinned up conspicuously on your bedroom walls. He especially thinks of it when he catches himself looking at the selfies that you always insist on taking with him—which is very often, given how you like to snatch his phone and update his lockscreen with them.

To the uninformed eye, all of these scenes make the two of you look like a simple, human couple—one right out of a novel.

Dan Heng thinks about this most often: a normal life with you, in which he is not burdened with the title of Yinyue Jun. In which there is no chance of staining your future with the transgressions of his past. In which you’ve never once been hurt because of his relation to Dan Feng, and where you will never be hurt again.

If paradise is but a dream, he thinks, gazing at the contours of your soft expression, then I wish to sleep forever.

dividers by @/cafekitsune!

[etheries1015]

Yk throughout Lilia's past thing I wonder why in the old OLD wars people don't use verbal bullying as a weapon- Killing is already included in physical bullying so why not go all out?

Imagine past Lilia with this one friend aka you who fights the annoying humans with money, curses, and (out of pocket) words instead of the traditional going to war way. Verbal bullying can reduce the enemy's morals (probably).

"Instead of worrying about our MoRaLs, why don't you start worrying over YOUR DRIER THAN THE AFTERGLOW SAVANNAH SCALP"

"Our ruler's temper isn't too good, but that kingdom's ruler is bad tempered AND ugly"

"If yall didn't stink so much, maybe the faes wouldn't have found you so easily"

Also

You: You should watch your steps, the floor of this mansion is slippery after all :)

Enemy: Is that a veiled threat?

You: What veil?

People say that the place where faes live are surrounded by thorns, but you have thorns in your mouth ;)

NO BUT THIS IS SO FUNNY. Instead of using your incredibly impressive fighting skills (Lilia has seen firsthand) you first choose the most outrageous and...unique insults and strategies he had ever heard and seen his entire life. Sometimes Lilia can't tell if you are truly affected by the fighting, or if you had gone simply insane and cannot feel complex emotions; numb, to be frank. Upon asking you such questions, In response you shared to your comrades; "Some people cope by sadness and despair, others cope by humor and lightheartedness. I choose the latter- for I would rather live my life smiling at the most ridiculous of things than sit in a puddle of my own tears and trauma."

Thus, you delve deep into the theatrics as a way to distract yourself from the true horror of things.

"Dang, you really went to war looking like THAT? Even I would pity you, and that says a lot!"

"You have the intelligence of a soggy piece of bread! Didn't you hear ANYTHING about subtly?"

"Oh yeah, you're definitely first to die in any scenario. You check all the boxes. I'm surprised you haven't managed to kill yourself by now! Congrats!"

"You're living proof that you do not need to be funny to be considered a clown!"

"damn, human AND ugly? Pick a struggle, to have both is truly a crime!"

I imagine that this MC really enjoys distracting people with long winded prologues or speeches. With fake tears in their eyes, sobbing in front of a wave of humans with their arm up to the sky-

"I would like to thank my mother for this grand opportunity, my pet snake, and my dear beloved and far too soon departed friend Lilia-"

you hear from a distance an annoyed fae yell "I'm not dead!"

you ignore him.

"And to all of you, my grand audience, for granting me this wonderful chance to demonstrate what it truly means to be ignorant."

Confused glances around the humans- before collective screaming as they are all falling into a pit that you lead them to. Lilia catches up to you and stares at the handful of human soldiers who fell into your trap with hands resting on his hip and raised eyebrows, glancing over at you impressed.

"Clever, yet...strangely obtuse. Good distraction, it's almost embarrassing to call you one of our strongest generals with your antics..." He hummed before his face taking a flat and annoyed look as you reveled dramatically in his praises.

"Why can't you be normal."

Reader being incredibly childish yet super clever like Clavis from ikemen prince and the personality of Furina from Genshin impact SDLOIHLJ

[tragedy-of-commons]

bare (my soul)

kaeya x gn!reader | wc: ~550

tags/warnings: domestic fluff w kaeya's baggage, he's soggy

notes: i love him

“Kaeya, this is egregious.”

You gesture wildly at his barren walls and the desolate living space more fitting of a Favonius jail cell than a home (or so you complained moments earlier).

“Shatter my heart into pieces, why don’t you?” he sighs, then pokes your side in jest. You’re just too adorable not to play around with - even when you’re critiquing his admittedly subpar interior design skills. “Weren’t you the one who insisted on moving in with me?”

“Only because I’m generous enough to consider proximity to your workplace,” you grumble, trying in vain to balance three boxes of your things in your arms at once. “If you had moved in with me, you’d probably have to run a marathon everyday to captain your non-existent cavalry.” Kaeya plucks the top box from your stack, revealing your unimpressed face to him. He grins. “Careful. If you keep saying things like that, I just might think you like me.”

You move to set your boxes down on the floor beside his boring, singular sofa. “I could wax poetic all day about my love for you–” “Oh, I’m dying to hear it, sweetheart–” “–But we seriously need to do something about your.. lifestyle.” You imitate a pompous noble, splaying the back of your hand across your forehead in distress.

Kaeya Alberich has heard many complaints about his lifestyle. Sometimes it’s in the form of Jean criticizing the way he handles certain intel, or the way he ostensibly slacks on the job. Other times, it’s in the form of rumors that he’s especially privy to; Captain Kaeya who loves his drink a little too much, or Captain Kaeya who uses underhanded methods to deal with threats to Mondstadt.

“We’re going furniture shopping at your earliest convenience!” you beam.

Yet you’re just referring to his apartment. What a miracle you are.

He sets the box he stole earlier down, humming thoughtfully. “Is it truly that horrid here?” (It is. He steps out every chance he gets, preferring a noisy tavern or your former place over whatever husk of a building Kaeya Alberich calls “home” these days.) “Yes. Minimalists shall never be forgiven.” “Well, I’d hate to be in your bad books.” Not once do you let him slip away during the unpacking process, practically shoving your trinkets and knickknacks into his hands for him to “make the call” about where they should live. You also sneak into his closet to try and scare him, but the jingle of one of his ornate belts catching on your person gives you away. He throws the doors open with a flourish. When you pout about him being no fun, he just slides in there with you, clicking his tongue and simpering about how you’re such a troublemaker. It’s quiet and you squint through the slits of the closet door at the surrounding bedroom. “Kaeya, I know what’s been missing!” you whisper-yell at him, head knocking against a hanging cape. 

You, he wants to say, It’s always been you. What comes out instead is your voice, effectively cutting him off. “An ugly vase!”

He can get behind that too. Maybe one day he’ll show his full hand, lay out every card, and wait for the swinging axe to take off his head - and maybe you’ll just pull him along to haggle with antique dealers in the name of ironic decoration. “You read my mind, sweetheart.”

[bouncybongfairy]

Pretty Please?

Rick Sanchez x Fem Reader

Summary: Summer asks you to pet sit her hamster while her family goes on vacation. Of course, you agree because you're such an amazing friend. Definitely not because you and her grandpa would have the entire house for yourselves.

Word Count: 2.0k+

TW: Intox Kink, Worship Kink, Masochism, Dumbification, Nasty Smut

Best Ref Account Ever: @kaionyx

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

You were sitting with your friend group, eating lunch in the quad. Quite boring, the whole school seemed to be yearning for the end of the day. Summer was bragging about the ski trip her family would be leaving for, after school. In all honesty you truly couldn’t care less, happy for her, just not interested. Picking at your salad that had gone soggy as she went on and on. 

“Do you think you could do me like a real solid?” she asks, resting her hand on your shoulder. 

“What is it?” you asked with a sigh. 

“Well, I need someone to come and feed my hamster while I'm gone. I was hoping because you're like, my best friend ever, if you would do that for me?” she asked, trying hard to butter you up. 

“You want me to drive back and forth to your house to mine for 3 days?” you asked, trying to knock some sense into her. 

“Oh my god obviously you can stay in my room,” she said, rolling her eyes playfully. 

“Ugh isn’t your grandpa going to be there?” you asked. 

“Yeah but he won’t come out of the garage. Please I’m literally begging you,” she pleaded, “What if I leave you an eighth of bud?” she whispered in your ear. 

“Make it a quarter and I’ll do it,” you said, which delighted her beyond belief.

As soon as you got home, you started packing your bags. Starting to slightly regret ever agreeing to pet sitting. Folding your clothes and placing them neatly in your duffle. Suddenly it occurred to you that her grandpa would be home. Of course in front of Summer you put on a front like him being there would gross you out. When in reality every time you slept over at her house, you would find yourself staring at him. Taking in all his little details; like how far he spreads his legs when sitting on the couch. Or how his eyes dilate when he’s a little more than tipsy. Your mind started wondering about all the possibilities of how your visit would go. It wasn’t something you felt shame about. You had already made your way through all the halfway decent guys at your school. To be quite honest you’ve wanted to hookup with an older guy for a while. All the dudes you’d been with are just so inexperienced and you were tired of that. 

Summer and her mom picked you up. She needed to show you around before leaving. Helping you with the bags, the two of you make your way to her bedroom. Where she gave you the weed she promised, even leaving her bong for you to smoke with. Showing you how to work the T.V and of course introducing you to Mr. Man the hamster. You laughed for a good five minutes over the name. Once she headed out with her family, you immediately started rolling up. Dumping the guts out her window, landing in Jerry’s garden, you felt bad but not really. As soon as you took a few hits off the blunt, you noticed it was strong. Giving you an intense head high, it did make you feel more relaxed. For a moment you were certainly feeling out of place. Getting bored, you start shuffling through your bag, looking for pajamas to wear. Immediately your mind went to Rick, thinking about what pare he would like the most. When you first got to the house, it felt wrong to think about him that way. After smoking, you really didn’t give a fuck. Even if Rick told Summer which is highly unlikely because.. Ew. Losing Summer’s friendship in exchange for hooking up with Rick sounded like a fair deal. You only took a couple hits off the blunt, after putting it out, you tuck it behind your ear. Making sure to stuff the lighter in your sock for safe keeping. Grabbing the hamster food, you put a couple scoops into his bowl. 

“You’re such a cute little guy, i’m about to fuck your great-grandpa. Don’t tell mommy,” you baby talked to him through the glass while giggling. 

Wearing a white oversize t-shirt with socks, you make your way down stairs. Hoping to run into him, the first place you checked was the kitchen. Even though you didn’t find him, it was a prime opportunity to raid the fridge. Taking a jar of pickles out and setting them on the counter before opening the freezer. Finding a dark green bottle with a white label with big X’s across it. Bringing it out and setting it on the counter with a crisp -clank- sound as the glass hit the counter. The bottle opened with a loud pop which made you giggle a bit. You brought it to your nose and immediately recoiled at the pungent aroma. 

“Smells like fucking rubbing alochol,” you mutter to yourself, grabbing a cup and pouring some. 

It wasn’t like you were a stranger to alcohol, you’d been drunk plenty of times. Thinking it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle, you chug what you had in the cup. You truly felt like the wind was knocked out of you. The coughing and gasping was only making your chest burn more. Taking a few sips of water from the sink to help wash it down. Similar to the weed, the effects of the alcohol were coming on quick and strong. Your cheeks were flushed and you no longer were worried about appearing sober. A gasp of excitement falls from your lips as you remember the existence of the pickles. Your mouth was salivating as you pulled one out of the jar. 

“What are you doing?” a rough voice rang through the kitchen from the doorway. You jump, turning around to face him. 

One of the first things you noticed about him was how tall he was. Seriously, his head nearly hit the fucking ceiling. Eyes had thick, dark circles underneath them; this only added to his grumpy edge-lord vibe. He was wearing a wifebeater tank that was smudged with black soot. Shamelessly staring at the dick print on his pants. 

“I'm pet-sitting for Summer,” you said, unable to hide your giggles. He started walking towards you, till he was literally less than a foot in front of you. This wipes the smile off your face, he reaches out and grabs the bottle that was sitting on the counter behind you. 

“You drank this?” he asked, his breath smelled just like the bottle. 

“Yeah -hiccup- sorry, but is it okay if I have another sip?” you asked while reaching for the bottle. At first, Rick held it out of your reach but then changed his mind. Taking a few swings from the bottle and then handing it to you. His hand just barely touched your chest as he gave you the bottle. Instantaneously making you wet, well.. wetter. 

“If you wanna drink yourself sick that’s your choice,” he said before turning and walking back to the garage. 

Not quite done shooting your shot, you follow him. Due to the room being made entirely of concrete, it was freezing. It was then that you remember how little clothing you had on. 

“Out!” he called out. 

“I’m scared and lonely all by myself in there, pretty please let me stay?” you asked, which made him turn towards you. You could feel the heat build in your belly as he approached. 

“Awe you’re just so scared? I think it’s slightly endearing how you’re trying to play innocent but I know a whore when I see one. No offense but you’re low hanging fruit,” he said, now towering over you with a smirk on his face. 

“Fuck if you don’t wanna fuck me then why are you saying these thing, making me drip down my thigh?” you asked, reaching down to hook your hand onto his belt. He smacks your hand away before responding, 

“I’m a fucking god, I have queens on thousands of planets offering their ass to me on a plater. Why would I stick my dick in you?” he asked. In response you poured out some of the bottle onto the floor, right onto his shoes. At first he looked livid, like he was going to lay into you but you interrupted him,

“Oops sorry I can be so dumb at times, let me clean that for you,” you said, getting onto your knees and bringing your tongue to his shoes. Licking the alcohol off them while looking directly up to him. He chuckled, like he was humored by your actions. 

“Judging by how you’re throwing yourself at me, I bet you were craving my cock for weeks. Every time you’re here I always notice you staring at me, who would’ve known you had such nasty thoughts behind those pretty little eyes,” he said, tilting his head as he watched. Taking the blunt out from behind your ear and placing it between his lips. 

“May I light that for you?” you asked, pressing your cheek to his shoe, trying your best to flash your doe eyes. 

He used his finger to call you up. Scrambling to your feet, you pull the lighter out of your sock. Bringing the flame to his face, admiring his features in the orange glow. He looked so powerful and strong, you wanted him to tear you apart. He blew the smoke directly into your face, you took a playful bite out of the cloud. Grabbing the bottle from you, he pours more onto his shoes. You took his hint and went back down, now licking the bitter liquid off his other shoe. Taking you off guard, he brings his other foot and presses the soul into your neck. At first you were giggling, liking the way he was degrading you. This was until he began adding more pressure onto your airway. Even as you were gasping and wheezing, you couldn’t stop yourself from admiring him. The way his jaw went razor sharp while exhaling a cloud of smoke. Watching his facial expression twist from a small smile to full on beam. Your vision was becoming blurry and a familiar burning sensation radiating in your chest. 

Finally removing the pressure from your neck, coughing as you regain your full consciousness and breath. He bent down and pulled you up to your feet. A mixture of inebriation and lack of oxygen to your blood made him need to support your weight partly. He grabbed your shirt and lifted it above your head and threw it to the ground. Still slightly light headed, he grabbed your jaw so he could stare directly into your eyes. Reaching his other hand down, and feeling the wetness between your folds. You shudder and let your mouth fall open, now fully aware. He was shocked by how wet you were. Completely untouched and being treated like an absolute dog and you were still hanging on to his every touch and word. Staring at him, half-lidded and willing to take anything he gave you. This was enough to send him into a feral state. Without saying anything he picked you up and bent you over the desk. He used his foot to push your legs apart. Bringing your arms behind yourself, using your hands to spread yourself open.

“Holy shit you’re such a deranged little cocksleeve, you just eat my abuse up huh,” he said, pulling his pants down and fucking the entire length of his cock into your pussy. You cry out from him practically ripping you in half. Tears sting into your eyes and your legs that are on their tiptoes begin shaking. A mixture of moans and choked sobs spill from your mouth. He lifts your upper body from laying against his desk to being pressed against his chest. Using your throat to secure you there while whispering into your ear,

“What’s wrong slut, I thought you wanted this. You wanna stop? Maybe you can’t handle it,” he practically growled, still keeping himself fully inside you. 

“No. P-please,” you cried out, willing to do anything to get friction between your bodies. 

“Oh? You want me to keep tearing you apart? Beg me to,” he said, tightening his grip on your throat.

“Please, I w-want you to destroy me!” you screamed out, willing to do anything to get him fucking into you. 

Once the words left your mouth, he began pounding into you at an alarming rate. Your wetness was leaking down both of your inner thighs. Letting your body go limp, letting him do whatever he wanted. He kept your back pressed against his chest, admiring your chest bouncing as he killed your pussy. Feeling you stretch and tighten around his dick was driving him crazy. It was more than your physique that was satisfying him. It was the fact that you were so horny from being at his command and control. He liked how easy you were to manipulate, how willing you were to be turned into a braindead, cock hungry zombie. Feeling his orgasm nearing, his thrusts were becoming more erratic and sloppy. Fucking into you so hard that sound was involuntarily being forced out of you with every thrust. As you begin to cum, you start panting, completely blissed out. Feeling your cunt clamp down on his cock as you rode out your orgasm sent him over the edge. Filling you with hot cum, spilling out the sides of your pussy. After the encounter you completely blacked out, passed out. He let you stay slumped over that portion over the desk. Cum still leaking out of your abused hole. Simply pushing your body over to the side slightly after pulling his pants up. Reliting the blunt and ashing onto your ass before continuing working on his latest project.

[sink-me-in-your-ocean]

Equilibrium

Phantom Ghoul x fem!Reader Smut

Summary: (Kinda) Part of a "Choose your own adventure" series in progress, but it works well enough on its own so I thought I would post it now.

WC: 3620

A/N: This one has bewitched me, (feral) body and soul. Fellow Phantom simps, this one is for you, but mostly me.

Content warnings: no plot - only spice, fingering, P in V sex. 18+ only. Minors DNI.

NSFW below the cut.

Your hard fist hit the door three times. Impatience was one of your most prominent traits and you’d be damned if you didn’t hate waiting on somebody else. Especially when that somebody else was the one who had plagued your thoughts for weeks. And at night his name was the one uttered from your lips from your own self-pleasure.

You grabbed the door handle and twisted, discovering much to your chagrin that was unlocked and you had been standing out here all this time. You walk into the room, scanning the space, noting the chill that bit your limbs. Fucking hells it was freezing. Your sisters told you that the ghouls run hot, but it was like a blizzard had hit the room. The room was also, to your dismay, empty of occupants. Maybe he’s not here? 

Your ears perked up, hearing water running from an adjoined room. The joints of your fingers started to lock up as you lifted them to the wood of what you assumed was a bathroom door. You knocked, this time feeling a slight pain in your cold hands as you did so. 

“Phantom?” You call out just loud enough, dragging out the vowels.

“Hey! You weren’t supposed to come ‘till later!” His voice echoed from inside the closed room, and you heard the water shut off abruptly.

“I can come back if you want.” You offered, giving him an out.

“Hells no!” He opened the door wearing nothing but a white towel.

Your mouth went dry at the sight. It hung low. Dangerously low. But that wasn’t the only thing you noticed. His human glamor was nowhere to be found. 

Phantom’s true skin was grey, just the same as you had heard about the other ghouls, but his shoulders and chest had sparse midnight blue clusters of freckles. You marveled at the hard planes of his chest and stomach, at the way the water from the shower still clung to his arms and drenched his mostly-black hair. His signature white streak plastered itself to his forehead and the side of his face, while the rest stuck to his ears and neck. He had two near-black horns protruding from underneath his soggy hair. Finally, you settled your gaze on his face, his fangs slightly poked out through his parted lips. His beauty mark was also visible on his left cheek, several shades darker against the grey tones of his skin. 

A half-smile spread on your face as you noticed his beauty spot, and you fought the urge to reach up and touch his cheek. 

“Like what you see?” He cocked his head to the side, making you grin wider. It was truly no wonder why you were so drawn to him. In his human form he was cute… but as a ghoul? Strikingly handsome. Nine hells you wanted to kiss him.

“Maybe I do.” 

“Set in your choice?”

“Maybe I am.” You nibbled your bottom lip, tempted to rake your gaze over Phantom’s body again.

Instead, you walked past him and into the bathroom, leaning yourself over the vanity to feign checking yourself out. You mostly just needed a break from looking at him half-naked. “My darling ghoul,” you called absently, “you’re not wearing your glamor. Sister Imperator would not be pleased, I wouldn’t want to tell on you, but…”

He looked down at himself, “Oh shit, you’re right.” He shrugged, “I thought you were going to change your mind or something. Figured it wouldn’t matter too much either way if I just ‘let it all hang out’ so to speak.”

“No, no, I just wanted to tell you so you could change back.” You played with your hair, tucking back a few strands that had come loose from your braid.

“Well, I can if you want me to. Do you?”

You opened your mouth to answer but he cut you off.

“Wait, did you just call me ‘my darling’?” Your eyes flicked back to him through the mirror, heart temporarily quivering as he repeated your words back to you.

You regained your composure before his teasing look could disarm you further. “That’s what you heard out of me talking?”

He advanced on you suddenly, barely giving you enough time to turn around to face him. You backed up against the counter top, your spine arching as you shrunk back, and your fingernails digging into the underside of the cold marble. His arms came down on either side to trap you in place.

There was a mix of anticipation and cockiness in his expression, “You like me, don’t you?”

“Phantom, it’s a wonder why Sister Imperator doesn’t consult you for logistics.” He made a face, clearly missing your sarcasm, and you liked him even more for it. “Of course I like you. I wouldn’t be here if not.”

A shy smile ghosted across his lips, and you caught another glimpse of those fangs. You filled the silence by speaking again, “Well? Don’t just leave me hanging.”

“I like you too.” His admission was softer than a feather but weighed as much as concrete.

You stifled a knowing smile, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, I do.” 

“You’re a little trickster then.” You cocked your head, “you had me thinking I was the only one.”

His smile matched yours, “I’m surprised you didn’t figure it out sooner, for a while there I thought I’d burst into flames because you kept giving me those eyes.” You laughed at that, knowing full well what he meant, and he continued, “And just so you’re well aware, there’s nothing about me that’s little.”

“Oh, you nasty ghoul.”

“Yes?”

Your eyes narrowed, “You lured me in here on purpose, didn’t you?”

“Hard to say, really,” you watched, hypnotized as his tongue wet his bottom lip and then he leaned in close. “But that’s not the only thing that’s hard.” His breath coasted along your neck and goosebumps raised along the path, as if your skin was subconsciously reaching for him. You felt his lips barely hovering by the shell of your ear, causing a stirring sensation that shot through your entire body. 

You shoved at his chest playfully and he smirked at you, both of you knowing where this is going. You felt a fluttering in the pit of your stomach and finally allowed yourself to reach your hand up, brushing the white and black, slightly air-dried, hair away from his face. No more hesitation. Something inside you gave you the gumption to raise up on your tiptoes and kiss him. You planted a single smooch on his lips, closing your eyes as you did.

You drew back, studying his features. He was so still, his eyes scrunched closed in a combination of tension and serenity. 

“Phantom?”

He opened his eyes, his dark gaze devouring you. The air in the room changed and all ambient sound seemed to have been sucked into a void. You couldn’t look away from him. Afraid for a half of a second that maybe he didn’t like the kiss, you opened your mouth to allow the doubt to pour out. But you never got a single syllable out before his hands were on your face, tilting your head up to kiss you.

His mouth met yours in a breath-stealing kiss. Your hands immediately laced through his damp hair, touching the sides of his face, his neck, pulling him in closer. You parted your lips slightly on the next kiss and he used it to his advantage, his tongue swiping ever so lightly between your lips to taste you. You open your mouth more, allowing him full access. Feeling his tongue brush yours made you lightheaded. 

Phantom grabbed your waist, pulling you flush against him. He tilted his head slightly, deepening the kiss. The hunger shared between the two of you felt as though it had been building for years, your entire life even. A tickle on the back of your thigh made you jump, opening your eyes and breaking the kiss for a moment.

He huffed a laugh, “Sorry, my tail seems to have a mind of its own sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” you kissed him again, “I like it.” You brazenly reached around his waist to feel the base of his tail. He jerked involuntarily towards you and you felt his hard length pressing against your abdomen. How that towel was holding up you had no idea.

Touching, tasting, breathing him in, it wasn’t enough. You needed so much more. Your core ached in a way that silenced all thoughts of self-doubt and modesty. 

Your hands moved up his back, feeling his warm skin and the tight muscles underneath. He unzipped the back of your dress, and you felt it fall open, the air and his hands touching your bare skin underneath. 

“No bra?” He said, sliding your dress down while moving into a crouched position in front of you. 

“Hm.” You purse your lips, drawing it out, “That’s not all.”

He made a sound like you’d imagine a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankles. Astonished but intrigued. “No underwear?” 

You shrugged, “Surprised? I thought I could just ‘let it all hang out’, or however you put it so eloquently.”

Phantom stared up at you, trying to hide a smile, and you could see a color creeping up over his cheeks. Could a ghoul even blush? He giggled lightly, shaking his head at you in what seemed like amazement. 

He helped you step out of the dress, his eyes sweeping over your naked frame, drinking all of you in. Phantom rose slowly and his long fingers trailed up the inside of your legs. The calluses of his fingertips tickled, making you twitch slightly as they neared where you wanted to feel him the most. His right hand moved around to your waist, the other hesitated between your legs, just an inch or so from your core. 

“Sit.” He commanded. You obeyed, your ass meeting the countertop, your legs parting on their own accord in silent invitation.

“Please, Phantom, touch me.” 

“As you wish.” 

You inhaled sharply as his middle finger swiped through your folds, dragging languidly in the wetness there. He let out a needy noise, leaning down to breathe you in, kissing and sucking your neck. You wanted him so badly, and now that he could feel that, the implication made you even more weak for him. 

His middle and ring fingers dragged again through your wetness, lingering for a moment before pressing inside you. 

You cried out at the intrusion, wincing slightly. It had been so long since you had a partner, and still your fingers never made you feel like this. Phantom knew all the right moves, drawing in and out at a steady pace. His fingers felt exquisite as they lazily fucked your slick cunt. And when his thumb pressed lightly against your clit, you whined his name. Suddenly you needed to see him exposed too, because if just his fingers made you feel so good then…

“You won’t be needing this.” You pulled his towel off his body, baring him before you. Your eyes widened at the size of him. Fuck. Your mouth salivated at the sight of his long, hard cock. You couldn’t stare too long, as his lips moved from their place on your neck and collarbone back to your lips.

Each kiss, every touch was hotter than the last, igniting the two of you. He was burning up. He felt perfect against your ice cold skin. Like a day of sun in the middle of a desolate winter.

You had half a mind to beg him to fuck you on the counter, and it’s like he knew were about to speak, because he interrupted your thought with an even more tantalizing suggestion.

“Can I fuck you in the shower?” 

You moaned, his fingers curling inside you deliciously, “What do we say when we want something, darling ghoul?”

He groaned, his hand moving from your waist to the nape of your neck. He gathered your braid and yanked sharply, exposing more of your neck for him to lavish. “Fuck,” he uttered between bites along your soft skin, “can I please take you in the shower?”

“Yes.” Your word was barely out of your mouth when he planted another fierce kiss to your lips. His fingers left you empty as he helped you off the counter. You would have followed him anywhere at that moment, anything to get him touching you again. 

He took you by one hand and walked towards the shower with you, kissing you every step of the way until your feet hit the slick stone of the shower floor. He gave your hands a squeeze to turn around and turn the water on. You smirked at seeing his cute butt, his tail protruding from just above. You were filled with the sudden urge to bite him when a large waterfall nozzle poured water out from above the two of you, bringing you back out of your thoughts.

Phantom turned to face you again, and all the sustenance in the world couldn’t quench the hunger in his eyes. Your adrenaline spiked then - or maybe it was the momentarily cold water splashing on your feet. Maybe it was the anticipation of knowing that you were finally living the fantasy you had wanted for so long. 

He pressed you against the tiled wall of the shower, the now warm water flowing down providing sweet relief for your chilled naked body. Your back was cold against the tile, so you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck to pull him closer. For warmth.

The two of you shared a series of messy kisses, your lungs suffocating from the intense lack of air as steam circled you. He closed the open space between your bodies quickly, his strong hand taking hold of your right leg and lifting it up to meet his waist. Once there, you were just one slight move from being as close together as you could possibly be. The head of his cock nudged at your opening, and you felt yourself instinctively clench with want. The water from the shower did a great job making your whole body wet, but you were dripping with need for him. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

Your gaze moved up to his. Phantom’s dark eyes were clouded with lust, but wavered in slight trepidation. He was serious, wanting your full consent before going any further. For a beat, your heart stuttered in your chest, knowing there would be no going back if you two did this. You couldn’t say no, though, there was something primal in you that screamed with demand. He was the only one you wanted, and you wanted him desperately.

Heart still pounding, you reached up to touch his cheek and pulled him down into a passionate kiss. You broke the kiss to give him your answer, “Yes, yes Phantom, I want you.”

He nodded, eyes flicking over your face to search for any hits of doubt. Satisfied with your sincerity, he nuzzled his face into your neck, breathing you in deeply as he pulled you in. His cock pressed inside you with ease, meeting no resistance. You bit back a moan, teeth sinking into your bottom lip so hard you tasted iron on your tongue. If kissing him for the first time was ecstasy, feeling him inside you for the first time was oblivion.

“Oh fuck.” Your foreheads pressed together and you exhaled heavily as he sheathed himself inside you.

It was like a switch had flipped, you two went from frantic grasping and fevered kisses to slow, intentional movements. His right hand cradled the back of your head as he thrust into you with a deep rhythm that made your stomach tighten. He raised your right leg up higher so you were on your tiptoes, trying to press further inside you. 

The water from the shower head cascaded down your skin in rivulets, adding a tickling sensation over your breasts and your stomach as it trickled over you. It felt like something out of a fucking romance novel. The heat, the chill, the need, the gratification; a perfect equilibrium.

His hand grabbed greedily at your left thigh, “I need you closer.”

A feather of a laugh lifted the corners of your lips, “I don’t think that’s possible.” You kissed him again, sucking his bottom lip into your mouth and biting it. He growled, fangs jutting out to try to bite you back. You moved your face away, seeing the playfulness in his pitch-dark eyes mixed with something mischievous.

“It is.” That was the only warning he gave before he lifted you up effortlessly off the floor. Your legs wrapped reflexively around his waist and you gasped at the sensation of weightlessness.

You felt a furious blush burn over your face and neck, flustered at the ease with which he picked you up. Flushed at the way his cock bottomed out inside you fully. Your walls tightened from the additional intrusion, and you moaned into his mouth. Your lips collided together in a series of heady open-mouthed kisses, becoming a mess of teeth, tongues, and fangs. 

Your hands tangled themselves perfectly in his drenched hair and you rested your head against the tile to get a good look at him.

His dark brows were drawn together, and he had the look of utmost concentration and pleasure on his face as he drove into your heat. There was a deepening of the color on his cheeks again, a soft blush. He adjusted his hands from your thighs to have one arm firmly around your back, the other hand holding the roundness of your ass. Phantom’s eyes were turned down, and you followed where he was looking.

You let your gaze drift down, admiring again his toned, hard body against your soft, squishy one. When you looked all the way down to where you two were joined, watching and feeling everywhere each and every thrust of his cock inside you, you felt like you would melt.

It was all so intimate, too intimate for your first time together. Seeing his true form, being held so tightly in his arms, fuck, he had you. He had you so well. And the way he felt inside of you was divine. Like you were made for each other. 

Your body burned, your muscles trembled, your jaw twitched. Phantom tightened his hands on your waist and back, his claws scratching at your supple skin while his teeth and tongue took turns with your neck. His tail snaked up and twisted around your ankle, locking you further in place as if you’d run away on your own. You couldn’t even think of being apart from him. You never wanted him to leave your body.

As if the passion in the moment wasn’t enough, he reached a hand between you two, finding your clit and rubbing slow circles. You keened, bucking your hips forward, trying to grind harder against him, but he was in full control, holding you steady while he increased his rhythm. You felt a tension building in your abdomen, and you closed your eyes tightly, trying to resist your impending orgasm. You didn’t want to come yet, you wanted to draw it out more, but the added pressure on your clit from his thumb was butchering your resolve. Your breathing increased, every exhale punctuated by a whine as you felt yourself getting closer, and closer.

He noticed your futile writhing in his arms, “Are you going to come for me, pretty girl?”

You mewled, “Yes - but I want you to -” you couldn’t finish the sentiment, incoherent babbling becoming all you could muster. You were so close.

“You want me to? Where do you want me to come?”

“Inside me -” Your legs tensed, your abdomen tensed, your whole body locking up as your pussy clenched around him. You could no longer breathe or think.

“Fall apart for me, only me.” He kissed your neck, sucking on the skin there before drawing back. “Look into my eyes, sweet girl.”

You did, his near-black irises melted you from the inside. That taught string that had been holding you snapped, sending you spiraling. Your mouth fell open and a moan tore its way from your throat. He planted his lips to yours as you shattered in his arms.

His hands both moved up to your shoulders, pulling you down hard onto his cock as he drove himself as deep within you as possible. You felt him twitching inside you, warmth spreading as he came for you. 

You stay there for a minute, your breathing returning slowly to a normal cadence as the water continues to run over the both of you. You were wholly grateful for his inhuman strength; Phantom held you like you weighed nothing. He put one hand under your rear and the other came up to your face, his thumb stroked your bottom lip. His fingers caressed your chin, tilting you up and into one final searing kiss to seal your shared passion. 

“Can you stand?” He withdrew himself from you and moved to gently place your legs back down on the stone floor. 

“I - I think so.” Your stubborn legs wanted to give out, all your body wanted to do was collapse in a heap. 

He offered you his hand, helping steady you. “Want to get cleaned up? I mean, we might as well since we’re already in the shower.” 

“Yes,” you answered, before playfully adding, “please.”

“What am I going to do with you?” He whispered, kissing your forehead as you both relaxed in the steady stream of water.

-

[tender-rosiey]

Hey are you doing good? Your writings are just so CUTE AND WHOLESOME (guilty of reading them over and over) And when you're free and if you want, could you please write how Yuji, Megumi, Gojo and Geto would react to their gf preparing food for them for the first time but it doesn't taste as good🥺? Thanks!

"MADE FOOD? OH NO..."

—making food (to the best of your ability) for gojo, geto, yuuji, and megumi

a/n: i am doing well; thank you so much for asking! and thank you a ton, sweetheart! I am glad you like them <333 I hope you enjoy this as well! I honestly relate to this so much

GOJO SATORU:

"I AM HOME!” satoru announces loudly and you run to him and tackle him in a hug. he happily squeezes you tightly and spins you around, “YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I MISSED YOU, SWEETS!”

you giggle as he starts peppering your face in kisses, “the curses were so ugly as usual, eugh, I am so glad I can finally look at something as beautiful as you.”

“oh shut up, you flirt.”

“of course, you’re no match to my beauty but I can accept it—“ he says but as is cut off by you, rightfully, elbowing him in the stomach.

you turn your back to him, “how disappointing and poor me spent time cooking something for your ‘beautiful’ self.”

"really?!" and the way he instantly beams at the mention of good makes you chuckle. it also make you just a tad bit worried and you involunatrily fidget with your fingers.

of course, he notices, "what's wrong?"

you sigh, "I am just worried that the food won't be as good as you think it will be, but I tried my best, I swear!"

he cups your face, "listen, the fact that you made it for me will make it the most delicious one ever; I know it!"

"I made kikufuku," you mumble and satoru dashes towards the plate and quickly takes a bite. he hums, closing his eyes to truly assess it. dramatic loser.

"it's not that bad!" he says, taking another bite—call it making sure I guess, "it's a tad bit dry, but after a couple tries, I think you will make kikufuku on par with the ones in sendai!"

he grins before stomaching the rest of the plate, "is there more?"

you shake your head and satoru gets his handy-dany catoru apron, but not before pressing a kiss to your cheek, "then let's make them together!"

GETO SUGURU:

"hey, honey, what is this?"

you quickly try to cover the plate, "it's nothing! don't mind it. it's just a...random plate."

"a random plate," he smiles, "that why you're trying to cover it?"

you sigh in defeat, knowing that even if you come up with a tons of excuses, he will quickly find loopholes in them. you swear that this man knows you far too well.

he chuckles before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

"so what is it?” he says as his arm wraps around your waist.

"a failure," you mumble as you hug him and bury your face in his chest.

he hums as he pats your head, "I asked what it is not what you think it is, sweetheart."

"soba," you murmur, sadly. he lifts up your chin and quirks an eyebrow and you repeat yourself, clearer, "soba."

truthfully, it looks like one really sad plate of soba, but you really put a lot of hardwork in it; he can see that, especially in the presentation. the soba itself does look pretty soggy, but he would be damned if he let your hardwork go to waste.

"I am eating it," he decides as he gets out his chopsticks and prepares to dig in.

you grab his wrist, "no! you don't have to do that!" you smile, "we can just order; it's okay!"

he presses a kiss to your lips, "I want to eat the food you made."

"even if it isn't good?"

"even if you think it isn't good," he then gladly starts slurping the soba. turns out, it's not as bad as it looks. could be better, but it's edible so he continues eating and you're already ordering a ton of dessert and already-made soba.

"y/n, I like it!"

"don't lie."

"but I really do!"

ITADORI YUUJI:

something really sweet yuuji likes to do for you is to cook for you. whether it's his famous meatballs or some other dish he knows you like, he makes it for you with the biggest smile on his face.

you thought that it's time to repay his kindness. you were a decent cook, not the best, but you made things that were at least edible.

so, after trying your utmost best, you have finally finished the bowl of rice along with some of his favorite toppings.

"y/n! y/n! y/n! I am here!" you hear him yelling. voice booming with excitement as he wraps his arms around you in a very big hug, "I missed you so much!

you kiss his cheek, "I missed you too and—sukuna, your ass better not come out today or I will kick your ass."

"like you could do anything, you filthy woman—" you throw a ghost pepper at his mouth. sukuna's eyes widen before he disappears from yuuji 's cheek.

yuuji starts laughing, "you have no idea how much he is cussing right now!"

you shrug and hold his hand, dragging him to the to the kitchen, "ta-dah! I made you your favorite food!"

he beams, pressing a kiss to your cheek, "thank you so much, babe! it means the world to me!" he takes a hold of the bowl and starts eating before pausing.

"...is it that bad?"

he quickly shakes his head quickly, "no! I like it!" he continues eating and you know that he won't tell you the negative things about the dish.

he is just too sweet for his own good.

"yuuji."

he keeps eating.

"yuuji, please, you don't have to do this."

the champ still keeps on eating.

you sigh, "I am getting the meds, just in case."

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI:

"soooo I cooked something."

and megumi has to hold back any reaction as he remembers the first time, you two were in the kitchen. you somehow, someway, managed to burn butter and he was convinced he was going to die at that moment.

eh, at least you were by his side, screaming your head off, but with him nonetheless.

that was in the past though so he has to focus on the present and his job as a boyfriend to be supportive, "mhm, and what did you make?"

"grilled chicken with ginger!" you beam and he feels his heart squeeze just a little. you always remembered details about him and he does his best to keep everything you say in mind.

he smiles, albeit small, "thank you," he instantly takes a seat in front of the plate.

his expectations are not high, but he appreciates the effort you went through to make him this.

he nods at you, gratefully once again, before starting to eat. after a few bites, he stops to look at you, "did you mix up salt and sugar, again?"

you gasp, "what?! no way!" you quickly snatch the fork and take a bite yourself before frowning and dramatically falling to the ground, "I really did..."

you bury your face in your knees as you hug them closer, "I am sorry, megumi; I wanted to cook something for you and I ended up messing up."

he sits down in front of you, taking your hands into his own so he could see your face, "y/n, it's enough for me that you did all of this for me."

you shake your head in disappointment, "but I messed up."

"but you still made something," he rests his forehead on your own, "that's enough, I promise you. just...let's keep cooking when we're both around."

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[the-s1lly-corner]

You can give followers a lamb plush... buht...what if reader... gives the bishops plushies of them.. follower bishops.. please.. looks at you with my soggy eyes

Giving the bishops plushies of themselves

I tried. anew ice cream flavor and UEUEUE it's so yummy I hate being lactose sensitive

Notes: post game follower bishops, reader is GN, written on mobile

CWs: none

LESHY

feels it with his hands to figure out what it is, making sure not to cut the thing with his claws... oh... its him! ... do you take him for a little kid? why give him such a gift-

ignoring the fact that hes going to gnash and bare his teeth at anyone who dare tries to take it away from it or so much as touch the doll without his permission

will shut you down if you offer to take it back... this is his now! no take backs! sometimes carries it around in his room

lets the fact you sat down and made something for him go to his head... ohoho was he on your mind enough that you felt the need to make something in his image?

will not let it go, and will bring it up whenever- sometimes does it to his sibling.. annoying youngest child behavior. "haha look what i have you dont have it eheh loser"

HEKET

dolls arent really her thing nowadays, but she does keep it... like shamura, she shifts it around in her hands as she looks at it. outright asks what you expect her to do with it

keeps it on her bed, but doesnt really cuddle with it... shes not much of a cuddler, in general...

will go on a small rampage if someone were to sneak into her room and steal it away, from nasty things being ripped out of her mouth to throwing anything she can get her hands on until she believes justice has been served and her gift returned

mixed feelings about it... shes so used to getting things from followers when she was a bishop, but it feels... different now

you made this out of love, not out of devotion. it leaves an odd taste in her mouth

KALLAMAR

loves it, and if you made it hes going to show off your work to everyone who will listen... and everyone who wont! he keeps it on his bed!

sometimes snuggles into it as he sleeps and will immediately bolt up to pick it up if it falls off the bed and onto the floor

if the clothes arent attached to the dolls body, expect him to ask you to make some outfits for mini him

genuinely holds the gift close to his heart... things have been so different since hes been made to join the lambs cult, so having someone dedicate so much time and effort into him feels nice and reminiscent of his time as a god

it... may go to his head a little bit... but hes not going to get overly obnoxious about it like some people

SHAMURA

they simply... stare at it for a long moment as they hold it in their hands... you almost begin to think that they dont like it- before they shift it in their arms and thank you

did you make it? because if you did, they must commend you for your work... its well made

they dont snuggle with it in their sleep, but they do keep it in their home set on a shelf or a desk... they tend to look at it a lot, it reminds them of you

takes very good care of it- keeping dust off of it and overall not being rough with it

they may not cuddle it or pour out their feelings for you, but they do truly appreciate the gift

[shalomniscient]

sev I finished the 2.5 story recently and when yanqing remembered his duel with jingliu and used that to beat hoolay all I could think about was ur jingliu x reader series and reader being proud of her grandchild but also being wistful and sad and shit maybe recognizing the move he used to win and thinking about her wife 😭

first off anon i’d like to say it is actually so crazy that u rmb that fic……….. it’s so old and for it to stay in ur mind like that ,,,,,, anonnie what if i cried tears of appreciation 🥺🥺🥺 but me being soggy aside, yes !!! wife!mc would be so proud of yanqing, if she was part of the crowd (unlikely, but if she was) then seeing the move he did would genuinely bring her to tears. it’s not only the echo of jingliu in yanqing, but the fact that yanqing has now taken a huge step in fulfilling his dream of being sword champion, just like jingliu was. she definitely sees a lot of jingliu in yanqing, but just as how yanqing is learning to be more than just a lieutenant to jing yuan, i think wife!mc is also starting to see him more as himself as well.

HOWEVER. that being said. she is also going to worry herself sick fretting over yanqing at the end of it all, making sure he’s not injured and all in one piece. AND THEN, she’s immediately looking for feixiao to give her a flick on her ear for the absolutely batshit stunt she pulled and endangering yanqing, yunli and march in the process. she’d understand why, but still. and feixiao for the first time will know fear when wife!mc shows up, slipper in hand, and yanqing has to bodily pull his grandma back from beating the yaoqing general’s ass. hell hath no fury like a grandma nearly watching her grandson get pummeled, ig LMAO

also! wife!mc definitely goes out for tea with general huaiyan, and brings yanqing and yunli along as well. they do grandparents things together while yanqing and yunli bicker about swords. truly xianzhou bonding <333