#would do anything to protect him and guide him when he doesn't know better

[lonestardust]

[trivia-yandere]

tape

before leaving for college jungkook doesn't know when he'll see you again after this week and wants something to remember you by… @mother2monsters @darkuni63 @sweetempathprunetree @momnomnom @yoongiwantsme @chimmisbae @whipwhoops @prettyxxxplease

word count: 1.969

warning: car sex, pseudo incest, oral sex, smut, dirty talking, protected/unprotected sex, coercion, handjob, manipulation, creampie, video taping, dub-con,

series masterlist | part one | part three

“You don’t have to record everything.” you say, panting. Your eyes, glossy and full of tears, glance up at Jungkook who’s heaving. “You have enough content.”

Jungkook blinks his eyes a bit to look at you - cheeks puffy, eyes glossy and lips wet with saliva. Your hand softly strokes his cock as you await your answer. 

“Of course I do.” Jungkook responds. He places his hand on top of your head, glancing up at the camera shining directly at the two of you. “Who knows when we’ll be doing this next.”

Jungkook loved taking pictures of you - he made it a routine. It was easier, of course, because you were his (step) sister. He took pictures of you randomly around the house, sometimes some of you and him together. At school when the two of you were together, he’d snap some pictures and it was never considered weird because you were his sister.

Some pictures were just for Jungkook’s eyes only - the ones where he would sneak up on you in the shower or the pictures he would capture while you were beneath him. You allowed him to take pictures of your naked body because he promised it was just for him to see - and it was kept privately hidden deep in his phone that only he had the access to.

Jungkook wanted something to remember you by - something that he could look back on. It wasn’t like you had an illness that was so incurable that you’d die - or that he was going off to war to never see you again. You and he were both going to college; separate ones. 

And as months went by and graduation had come and gone, he knew he only had a limited amount of time with you.

Jungkook wanted more and more pictures and videos of you - whatever he could get. He took every chance he got to shine his camera in your face especially while you were so fucked out and moaning his name desperately. 

Tonight was no different. This was going to be your last night with Jungkook and then you’d be on your way off to prepare for your college move-in day and soon, he’d do the same. 

You snicker. “We won’t be doing this again.” you say, feeling his lips kiss on your neck. “I’m going to college and so are you.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.” Jungkook murmurs. He’s glad that you’ve already discarded your shorts long ago - all he had to do was push your panties aside or rip them off (whichever was easier). “You’re only a three hour drive away.”

“Driving three hours away for pussy is insane.” you respond, feeling Jungkook’s hands slide down your back to cup your ass. Your tongue swirls on the tip of his cock, eyebrows raising.

“Allowing me to fuck you in my car in the middle of an empty parking lot is also insane.” Jungkook retorts with a sudden chuckle. He licks his lips as he watches you. “Allowing me to fuck you at all is insane…yet we do it.”

You roll your eyes but even you could agree with Jungkook. You had allowed him to get away with a lot - taking your virginity months prior was one of them; allowing him to continue to fuck you was another. 

But you told yourself that this was just something you were going to do for now and take to your grave - as would Jungkook. 

You don’t respond and instead decide it was better to continue your sucking. You take Jungkook back fully into your mouth.

You recall the first time you’ve done this and how horribly it was. But that didn’t make you stop - you were determined to know how to do so before college and Jungkook was the perfect candidate. “Add a little pressure to it…” Jungkook had said, wrapping his own hand around yours to guide you. He then begins to guide your closed fist up and down onto his cock. “You don’t have to go too fast, but anything slower than this is a bore…” he instructs, eyelids watching you as you get the hang of how exactly he wanted you to jack him.

Jungkook adored having to teach you how to pleasure him - you were such a curious person and naturally, like him, always strived to be better. It was a matter of time until you knew exactly what to do with your hands and mouth to get his toes curling and his legs shaking.

You bring Jungkook out of your mouth to pump him a bit - your touch was his favorite. Your hands are always soft and gentle, even when you wrap them firmly around his cock. Your tongue circles the tip of his cock, eyes watching his every reaction. You run your tongue over the swollen head, passing his slit with each lick. You enjoyed watching Jungkook become the submissive one who depended on you for pleasure - thighs shaking, mouth agape and releasing such filthy moans. 

There’s a salty taste on your tongue and you know it’s precum instantly. 

“You’re teasing me.” Jungkook grumbles, gripping your hair slightly. 

“We have all night.” you say, muffled. “What’s the rush?”

“I want to fuck you now.” Jungkook responds, voice deep and pleading. “We have to be home in an hour anyways. You know how dad is.”

You release the tip and watch his cock spring back, pre-cum and saliva dripping from it. “Fine.” you tell Jungkook, already lifting from your position to sit in his lap. “Where’s the condom?”

Jungkook always came prepared, going through his pockets to remove the small, golden square package. He hastily rips it open and discards the package lazily beside him. You’re hovering above him, waiting for him to put the condom on.

“Okay.” Jungkook places his hands upon your hips, guiding you down towards his cock. 

You release a low sigh when Jungkook enters you fully, your walls automatically clenching around him. Even with the amount of times the two of you had fucked, you could never become accustomed to him inside of you.

Jungkook, however, is inpatient. He wastes no time in placing his hand beneath your thighs and thrusting upwards. He assures you’re in line of vision with the camera - he needed good material masturbation while you were away.

Jungkook is a greedy person, he wants all of you. As he continues his thrusting inside of you, your breast bounces in his face, the tank top not being able to hold them any longer. As your breast spills out, Jungkook takes the opportunity to pop a nipple into his mouth.

“You’re so deep…” you moan, your nails digging into Jungkook’s shoulders for support. His breathing increases, his tongue suckling on your nipples needily and his hands go to grip your ass.

Jungkook pushes you away slightly, you now lean between the passenger and driver seats. Jungkook groans as he watches you - so fucked out and full of lust. He begins to thrust, his hand against your stomach for support.

“Your pussy’s so wet, Y/N.” Jungkook scoffs, eyes glancing at how good you were milking him; it’s almost a shame he wore a condom. He couldn’t imagine how heavenly you felt bare. “It’s because you love me that it’s like this.”

Jungkook loves touching your bare skin and his hands never settle on anything for long. He grips your breast as he fucks into you, he holds your neck, your waist - whatever. Now, his hands trails down slowly, thumb pressing firmly against your clit. 

Jungkook hisses, “So, so, wet.” he twirls his thumb against your clit, only fucking into you deeper. “Aren’t you going to miss me, Y/N? You’ll be going to college and sex would never be the same with anyone else.”

Maybe Jungkook was selfish, he’s admitting to it. But he could never fathom anyone else having you in these positions - no other man getting to have their face between your legs or getting to touch the soft, gentle skin of your body. Another guy didn’t deserve to feel how wet and tight you were, or hear your soft, sweet moans.

You yelp when you feel a hand around your neck - and it causes you to clench even tighter around Jungkook. He was angered now at just the thought of you leaving him and allowing someone else to do what he could do to you with such love and care. 

“You’re such a whore, Y/N.” Jungkook grunts, pounding into you angrily. Your moans increase, along with the squelching of your pussy. “How many guys are you planning on fucking?”

Jungkook’s grip on your neck grows tighter at your response. “However many I feel like.”

You loved teasing Jungkook ever since the pair of you were children. He rarely gave you a reaction until now and you were going to milk it. 

“So does anyone get to feel your pussy?” Jungkook snarls, releasing your neck to hoist you back up. Your arms are holding the passenger seat for support. “I always knew you’d grow up to be a bitch.”

Jungkook’s insult don’t faze you, maybe because he was fucking you entirely too well. You have no control whatsoever and Jungkook has it all. He thrusts roughly inside of you, dark eyes shining in lust and anger; jealousy. His hands roam your body, gripping your breast and suckling your nipples. He bites along your neck and shoulders, hands gripping and slapping your skin.

There’s a kiss pressed firmly against your lips; deep and full of greed. Even now, Jungkook cannot fathom to think about someone else kissing your lips and it angers him to know that it’s something you’re going to allow.

“I want to cum inside of you.” Jungkook releases your lips and pushes you off of him. 

You stumble in the backseat, eyes widening at his request. 

“You can’t-”

“Why not?” Jungkook is already pulling the condom off of him. “It’s not fair you wouldn’t let me. I love you.”

Jungkook discards the condom out of the car carelessly. “Don’t you love me?” Jungkook asks with a tilt of his head. “If you’re going to have sex in college, I should at least be the first one to feel you bare.”

Jungkook hovers above you, wrapping you in an embrace. Your back is towards him and his hand dips between your legs to rub along your clit. Your mind is hazy and you don’t realize that Jungkook is already inching inside of you.

“Your pussy feels so good, Y/N. You love me, right? You’d let me…” Jungkook trails off, entering deeper inside of you. His body shudders at the new feeling that the condom wasn’t allowing him to endure. 

Jungkook begins to thrust, his twirling of your clit never ceasing. Your walls tighten around him heavenly that he never wants this to end. If he could fuck into you like this - raw - the entire night, he would. It’s something he deserved - he was the only person who would ever truly love you.

“Doesn’t it feel good, Y/N?” Jungkook murmurs against your ear.

You nod your head hastily. The feeling is new; better. You never felt Jungkook’s bare skin inside of you and now with direct skin to skin, the euphoric sensation increases tremendously. 

Jungkook isn’t going to last long - not when there’s mountains of senses going through him. “Come,” he murmurs against your ear.

You turn your head to face Jungkook and instantly, he presses his lips against yours. His thrusts are sloppy and he’s determined to make you cum alongside him, rubbing along your clit hastily until he feels you trembling beneath him.

Jungkook never came so hard in his life. He’s twitching inside of you, cum reaching deep and even then, the pair of you never cease from kissing.

series masterlist

[buckyalpine]

My First and Only

Virgin Mob beefy Bucky x reader

So I'm taking my drabble and making into a one shot. Our beautiful, rugged mob boss whose glare make grown men cower is just a sweet shy thing on his wedding night. He has his wife to guide him poor Bucky is even more nervous because he doesn't want to disappoint his princess. Do keep in mind he's going to be a menace once he's well practiced.

-

"The right one will be worth it Jamie" Bucky's mothers words echoed in his ear as he sipped on a glass of whisky, the loud bass of the club music making the ice in his glass clink. "You'll know when it's the right time"

He was sixteen when she told him that, around the same time that he started working closer with his father, preparing to take over his families business. With money came power and with the money the Barnes' had, it was near limitless. The last thing Winifred wanted was for her son to go down the wrong path, one filled with greed, violence and lust.

She raised him to respect those around him and himself. To see beauty in living things, to love others and above all else, to value what it meant to share a life with someone you cared for. It was a sharp contrast to the way George ruled with an iron fist but it gave Bucky the balance he needed to be an excellent leader.

Under his mother's guidance, he followed the path that lead him to where he currently sat along with his two right hand men, Steve and Sam, the three men sipping on a dark amber liquid, ignoring the numerous girls that tried to fling themselves at their table.

"You'd think they'd get the hint after you said no to the first three" Steve chuckled while another woman slinked up only to have Bucky politely shake his head.

"Think you'll say yes to any of them?" Sam playfully shoved Bucky's shoulder already knowing the answer. Whenever they were out, plenty of women would approach the mob boss only to be turned away every single time.

"Not tonight" Bucky snorted, knowing he'd be ready when he found the right one. It was just a matter of time.

Looking at him, it was doubtful anyone would think or know Bucky was a virgin. He'd dated girls before but no one made him feel anything that also captured his heart. Of course, its not like he told anyone what he did or didn't do with those girls. He certainly didn't look like someone who lacked experience. He took care of himself when he needed to, after all he was still human. His right hand knew exactly what to do when necessary.

He met his pretty angel at a flower shop. He was there to get a bouquet for his ma's birthday and left with your number instead, quickly going back with a blush on his cheeks, realizing he didn't get what he initially came for. Bucky knew he'd found the one when the first thought that came to mind after his date was that he had to take you home. Not to his bed but to his family. To show everyone the sweet girl he knew he'd love for the rest of his life, the one he instantly knew was for him.

"You better protect her with all your heart" Was the only thing his father said before patting his shoulder whereas His mother didn't say a word about you after you'd both first met. She simply handed Bucky her wedding ring, already recognizing the lovestruck look on her sons face.

When he kissed your lips at the altar, he nearly fell to his knees, the soft warmth of your skin already making him woozy. He didn't leave your side the entire night, his arm protectively around your waist, so in love with the one person he got to call his for the rest of his life. Your first dance was filled with soft kisses, whispering sweet nothings to each others while your loved ones watched with teary eyes. When the SUV came to whisk you both away, Bucky still didn't let you go, holding you tightly in his lap, ready to start a together new chapter as husband and wife.

The very first one being in his bedroom.

-

Bucky didn't understand this feeling. It was brand new to him. He'd felt every emotion under the sun except this.

Shyness.

Pure, innocent shyness.

God, he'd never felt so shy in his entire life, it was almost embarrassing. He shook his head at himself; he was over 6 ft tall, covered in dark ink but the thought of going to bed with his sweet wife was what was going to take him down.

"Jamie, can you help me with the back please?" You stood in front of the dresser while his sucked in a breath, his fingers fidgeting with the delicate buttons down your back. He carefully undid them, letting his hand ghost down your spine, his breath catching in his throat when your dress fell and pooled around your feet. You stepped of it, left in your white lingerie and heels, bending over to unstrap them, only to have Bucky stop you.

"Let me, sweet heart" He got down on one knee, taking off the tiny strap wrapped around your ankle and slipping your heels off before standing up again, taking in the soft lace that barely covered your body.

You took off his blazer before you unbuttoned his shirt, smiling at the way he held onto your waist, his thumbs tracing small circles onto your hips. He didn't know where to focus, feeling your lips kiss his chest where he had tattooed your name over his heart to the way your soft breasts were now pressed against his body.

You let your hands caress over the thick planes of muscle while going down to his belt buckle, various pieces of art covering his body in the most beautiful way. Bucky's heart hammered against his chest as your hands trailed down to unbutton his pants, your nimble fingers brushing over his throbbing erection.

He hopes you don't realize how nervous he feels when you unzip his pants, letting it fall to his feet. He gives you a shaky nod when you look up at him for permission to pull down his brief's, letting you see all of him for the first time. Your fingers hook around the waistband, puling them down his thick thighs, till he's left perfectly bare in front of you. His thighs tense together at the soft gasp you let out, scared he'd disappoint you some how though the very thought is ridiculous.

You can't help but take a moment to admire you perfect husband in his all naked glory, his thick, heavy cock curved towards his tummy, heavy balls, achingly full. The blush on his cheeks deepen when your eyes flick down to his most intimate parts; no one else ever seen him like this before, not since he was a baby. You lean up to give him a reassuring kiss while he slips his hand into yours, taking you to bed. Every part of him wants to pick you up, throw you over his shoulder and toss you on to the large mattress but not tonight. You lay down with him against the soft pillows, the silky sheets under you cool against your skin while he gently tugs on the straps of your lingerie.

"Can I?" He whispers, still to nervous to do anything while you move his hands to the clasps of the lace.

"M'your's Jamie" You nod, letting him take his time unhooking your bustier off, his eyes growing wide at your perfect bare breasts. You know its his first time and there's nothing more you want than for him to know you trust him completely and you're all his.

He doesn't waste any time slipping your panties off, his tongue darting out to lick his lips at the sight of you naked on his bed. It starts off slow and innocent. He doesn't rush to do anything, taking his time to hug you close to him, relishing on the feeling of your bare skin on his between soft kisses. He struggles to calm himself down with the way your soft body is pressed against his, your leg hitched over his waist, his cock itching to rut against your tummy for more friction. His wide, thick body engulphs you when he holds you close, his hands skimming up and down your waist before trailing up your spine.

His heart starts to hammer again when he starts to trail kisses from your jaw down to your neck wanting to touch more of you. He wants to show you how much he loves you, gently taking a nipple into his mouth, moaning as soon as he starts to suckle. Your back arches, a gasp melting into a moan at the way his tongue flicks and moves in circles between his lips tugging and sucking your peaked bud.

Nothing compares to how warm and soft your breasts are in his mouth, his cock starting to leak. He so lost in kissing and sucking your breasts, precum smearing all over your tummy, where his cock rests against.

"Can I Touch you baby?" you whisper, kissing his forehead when he looks up at you with wide eyes. He quickly nods, pressing his hips against you showing you where he needed you most while refusing to take his mouth off your breasts.

You hand goes down to gently palm him to giving poor baby some relief. You wrap around his thick shaft, loving the needy muffled moan he lets out, his hips moving on their own when they thrust up into your fist. He doesn't even realize he's practically humping into your hand, your lips nipping down his neck.

"I-

"What is it James" You ask with your sweet doe eyes and he manages to blush more. He should be the one making you feel good and taking care of you but instead here he was, scared he'd cum before getting a chance to be inside you. You see his eyes trail down your body, darting down to between your legs, understanding he wants to touch you too. You pull away slightly, lying down on your back for him because fuck, you needed to feel him.

"Angel" His voice was breathless as you spread your thighs apart for him, giving him the perfect view of your soaked pussy and swollen button. He could feel precum starting to dribble from his tip; there was something so beautifully erotic about the way you were giving yourself to him despite how shy you were yourself. Displaying your most sacred and intimate parts to your husband so he'd take care of you.

He loves the way your face contorts with pleasure each time he rubs your clit, moving in slow, deliberate circles. He doesn't get a chance to toy with your for too long when you peck his pouty lips before trailing kisses down his body. His eyes grow wide when you get closer to his cock, his hips nearly lifting off the bed so you'd know where he needed you so badly but too shy to ask.

You take your time to clean off his slick precum that's beading from the tip, his swollen cockhead growing more sensitive each time you flick your tongue across his slit. He lets out soft, sweet babbles when you take him down your throat, his salty taste coating your tongue.

"You're making me leak" He whimpered, biting his lip to keep from letting more high pitched whines slip out, "dragă, st-stop, I'll c-cum"

He's never sounded more gone, gripping onto the sheets while you swirl your tongue around his head one last time before pulling off with a pop.

"oh-OH" His eyes grow wide when you drip down further to take his balls in your mouth instead, the sensation different that anything he's ever felt. A steady dribble of slippery arousal streams out of his cock while you nurse on suckle his heavy sac, addicted to your husbands distinct, sweet taste. You love how heavy he feels in your mouth, the smooth silky head of his pink cock begging to be sucked again.

He know's he'll cum if you keep on going which is why he pulls you up, kissing you deeply before settling you comfortably against the pillows again. He wants to make love to you so badly, even if it's not perfect the first time. He wants to give himself to you, nervously blushing when you spread your thighs for him while he pumps his cock.

"Are you ready?" He whispered against your cheek, the both of you nearly trembling with anticipation when you nod, letting him line his tip up with your fluttering entrance. He lets out the most desperate moan when he starts to push in, his body weight falling on top of you while his cock throbs, already close to cumming.

"Angel, I think m'gonna cum" He whimpers against you neck, knowing the slightest movement will make him blow his load. He hugs and clings onto you tightly, rutting himself into your cunt with the most gentle roll of his hips.

"Want you to feel good Jamie, it's okay" you hug him back while he pants harder trying to give you deeper strokes, he wants to make you feel good, feel how much he adores you by giving you pleasure but he just can't. You feel too good, pussy so warm, silky and soft.

"P-please cum for me angel" He pleads, his hand slipping between your bodies, finding your throbbing clit, rubbing quick circles with his thumb.

"J-James!" You hold onto him tighter, spots starting to cloud your vision with the way he's toying with your body as if he's touched you for years, his cock reaching depths you didn't know existed. "Fuck, fuck baby, feels so good" Your moans nearly turn into wails when he moves faster, his orgasm barreling towards him when you start to clench around his cock.

"Need you to feel good angel, don't wanna cum yet, wanna make love to you" He hides his face against your neck to try and muffle his moans but it's not use, a few sloppy stokes in and hes pumping you full of his seed, unable to stop as stream after stream burst from his cock.

"I-f-fuck, Swetheart, m'cumming- I-oh-hng princess-" He practically rolls over with you, still buried deep in your pussy, your mixed arousal soaking the sheets. His body shudders and he continued to thrust his hips up, grabbing your ass to keep you flush against him, moaning into the crook of your neck, "m'cumming so much for you, god I can't stop"

And he doesn't stop.

You gasp, feeling him still somehow rock hard, his sensitive cock still thrusting into you, his cum making it easy for him to slip in and out of you faster.

"Not done pretty girl, gonna keep my cock in you all night"

****

"Was I okay?" He whispers innocently while you cuddle into his chest, the both of you still naked, snuggling in the sheets. You giggle at his adorable expression, pecking his lips

"Of course baby" You reassure him again, your body still trembling from the way he pulled a second and third orgasm from you.

"Is everything okay for you?" You check in with him, loving that the question okay makes him shy again, the pink on his cheeks now moving to his neck and ears.

"M'happy I waited, that you're my first and only" He playfully shrugged, struggling to meet your gaze while you hugged him tightly, closing your eyes. The both of you drift off to sleep, only to wake up in the middle of the night, blindly reaching for each other again.

No words are said but you end up on top, dinking down on his cock, bouncing up and down, the lights turned off, only the glow of the moon illuminating your skin. He can't help himself, greedily pulling you down towards him when your breasts bounce in his face, desperately suckling on your nipples.

Between the way you ride him and the way your soft breasts in his mouth feel, he doesn't even realized he's whined mommy, eyes closed and clinging onto you like a baby.

Keep in mind, this was Bucky's first time. He's surprised at how needy and subby he can get for you, so desperate to please and pleasure you.

Until he starts to get more comfortable.

When he discovers his dom side the bedroom.

He learns he loves when you call him Sir and Daddy. On the rare occasion the house is empty, he becomes the most filthy fuck you'd meet, pulling his knife out whenever he wants to strip your clothes off and getting on his knees to eat you like a man starved. He'll bend you over anywhere; over the banister, over the kitchen counter, the table, the stairs, the floor when he wants.

If he's not nursing off of your clit, you're between his meaty thighs giving him the most sloppy head of life and he's never been more thankful for his sound proof walls.

He loves being a switch the most, alternating between begging to get a chance to taste you and then railing you with his cock till your crying and dripping with cum.

[polakina]

how they fuck you

red dead redemption headcanons #2

hc masterlist // masterlist

on my third playthrough of rdr2 and i cannot bring myself to play low honour. why do i put myself through this?

also this is ridiculously long, got a little carried away but i shall not apologise

rating: explicit

-

is always gentle with you at first

delicate touches, lingering kisses, gazing eyes at your every movement or ministration

"what do you want, mi amor? tell me"

loves to hear you beg for him, want him

it just turns him on even more

dirty talk through the ROOF

this man knows how to talk you through it

"fuck you feel amazing, hermosa. yeah, just like that, huh? anything for you"

will eat you out for days if he could

never really tried it before, even when he lived in Mexico, he never really gave it a go

but with you, he wanted to try everything. whatever you wanted, he was up for it

so when you first asked him, he was nervous as hell, but willing to try

he found out he loved it and does it every single fucking time he had you all to himself

buries himself between your thighs like a man starved, his arms wrapped tightly around your thighs to keep you still

his tongue worked fucking wonders on your pussy, knowing exactly where to focus his attention, loving how you always moaned a little softer when his tongue dipped inside your cunt

fucks you slow, savouring the moment when he can

loves to have you riding him. seeing you on top spurs something inside him

his hands grip your waist fiercely, guiding your hips to grind against him, pulling sweet, elicit moans from your throat

loves to cut your clothes from your body with his knife

it's so much more satisfying than just taking them off with his hands

kinda likes quickies. prefers taking his time but there's something about pulling you away for a few minutes to have his way with you behind the protection of a tree or something that he loves

usually happens out on missions, so there's risk of the gang seeing you guys, but what's life without a little risk?

you could be on watch beside your tent while everyone sleeps, and javier will come over to keep you company

but it doesn't take long for his hand to slip into your pants as he whispers all sorts of things in your ear as he sits behind you while you try and continue your watch duty

was terrible at aftercare before, never really understood the in's and out's of it

but learned eventually with you, when you explained it to him

now he's at your beck and call whenever you need it

wear this man's hat around camp and that's all he needs to pull you to a secluded tent

but wear it while you fuck him? arthur would die happy in that exact moment

likes to call you 'cowgirl' when you ride him. you always roll your eyes at how stupid it sounds, but it doesn't stop him

the two of you don't have all the time in the world. being one of dutch's most trusted members, he's needed away from camp a lot more than anyone else

so you've both learned the art of being fast

and it doesn't take long for him to make you cum

never asks for them, but loves blowjobs

he likes to draw in his tent when he's got time to himself, so when he sees you come in and sink to your knees in between his lap, he can't think of a better sight

the absolute king of praises (have you heard how he talks to his horse?? imagine him talking to a woman oml)

not a fan of degrading, he never saw the appeal, but uses other methods to 'punish' you

"what do you want, darlin?" he'd say as he's fucking you from behind, your face pressed into the pillow to stifle your moans, your ass in the air held up by his hands on your hips. "oh babygirl, you wanna cum, huh? then you can beg me for it, can't you?"

will edge you for days

especially when he knows he's going to be away for a few days afterwards

definitely grabs the headboard

mainly for his own stability to be able to thrust into you harder as you moan his name into the room

has his hands on you at all times

holding your hands above your head by your wrists, holding your face against the mattress with his hand on the back of your neck, curling his fingers in your hair and gently yanking your head back when he pounds into you

when you do get a night away from camp, he wants to make it last the whole night

takes his time with you to the point where he's practically teasing you for hours

takes his time undressing you, kissing every part of your body, touching every part of you until his fingerprints were practically imprinted into your skin

give this man some guidance or it's like walking through a maze blindfolded

learned a lot with you

figured out really quick what you liked and what you didn't like, what places he could touch you that would send your head spinning

this eventually led him to learn how to be very sneaky in public

he could touch you in such simple places, in such an innocent way that no one else would think anything of it

but you'd know, and you wouldn't stop it

you like the way he touched your neck? he was all over that shit, cupping your cheek, his fingers tickling your neck

you liked his hands in your hair? his fingers tangled at the base of your neck, pulling your hair slightly to tease you

his hand would rest on your thighs, fingers slowly creeping up your thigh while you were all sat around the campfire

you'd always give him a little glare, which he would ignore, a goofy smirk on his face

and the way he fucked you was no different

he had mastered the art of teasing your body and your limits, and put that knowledge in every time he had you alone

"come on, marston. stop teasin' me like this"

he'd always smirk, working his way down your body in a painfully slowly manner

"i'm takin' my time with you, sweetheart. you just lay back and relax. lemme take care of you"

loved to make you feel good before he even thought about himself

but when he was too pent up, he came a lot quicker than he wanted

but he made up for it when tending to you afterwards until you were practically pushing him away, too sensitive for his expert fingers

not the best at going down on you, but makes up with experience

but what he's really good with is his hands

his fingers

they know exactly what they're doing when he pushes them inside your soaked pussy

curling at that devastating spot inside you that makes you crumble to your knees

loves to be on top of you, seeing your face contort when he pushes inside you slowly, deeply

he's basic, a lover of missionary, but seeing your face and watching your body writhe under his grip is really what turns him on

[th3secr3th1story]

how gojo and geto act when they have a crush on you

gojo

always trying to be around you

you are literally never alone. whether it's on the train or in between classes, he's always there (i'm sorry).

"why are you always following me around, satoru? do you like me or something?" you tease as the two of you stroll through the hallway after the final bell for the day rang.

"it's my job to protect you, y/n!" he replied, deflecting your question. worst liar ever!

flirts a lot

you always catch him glancing at your lips multiple times during a conversation and lightly brushing his hand against yours when passing you something. he always has an arm around your shoulder when you're walking somewhere together.

annoying

i feel like gojo with a crush is cute but also insufferable? he's always kicking you under the table at restaurants or libraries (literally anytime he's sitting across from you) and he won't stop pinching your cheeks teasingly. but of course you get back at him all the time (because you're better than him).

geto

the best listener

whenever you two are walking together after school he asks you how your day went, quietly listening. he loves hearing your voice especially after a long day, it always soothes him.

"-so i told her again that she needs to leave him immediately because he obviously doesn't care if he hurts her. but honestly i don't know if she's going to listen because she likes him too much and--wait, are you still listening?"

"of course. i think you should try to convince her that he's using her one more time. you have the receipts to prove it, and if she still doesn't want to listen there's really nothing else you can do. don't push yourself too hard for this, if she doesn't want to accept the information then that's that; you have other things to worry about."

the biggest gentleman

he opens every door, pulls out every chair, and guides you through every crowd with a hand on your back. he only wants you to be comfortable and would quite literally do anything for you. he'd never admit it, but he always has a spare water and a few snacks on him in case you ever need anything.

extremely observant

he can tell if you had barely slept the night before and offers you his shoulder to sleep on while heading back to school after a mission. he somehow always notices the smallest scratches or bruises on you, immediately tending to them and demanding asking that you tell him what happened.

[merlinssassybeard]

'Ex' Husband Gojo - Better without me

Part 2 || series masterlist

Tags- gojo x fem reader, angst, fluff

Synopsis- A look at Gojo's feelings for his now estranged wife. While his wife goes through a breakdown

7th December, 2016

It was Satoru's 27th birthday.

Satoru knew but it really wasn't his priority honestly. Besides, he's not really in a mental state to even think of it.

He recalls how you, his wife, would plan various different things each year for his birthday. You, his joy and the light of his dim life.

All gone now...

Gojo had finished his mission overseas as soon as he could and returned back to Tokyo to submit reports of the mission and then again had to leave for his next mission in Seoul, South Korea.

He was aware of the incident with you just a day ago. Shoko had told him that it was just dehydration which caused a little fever and that everything's okay.

Gojo wasn't convinced. He didn't knew why, even when he wanted to believe Shoko, his six eyes indicated otherwise. They tell him there's more and Shoko probably knows but staying quiet.

Satoru had a few hours in his hand before leaving for the Airport check in by 4 am.

He decided he'd go to the Estate, which now belonged to you (not legally). He wanted to drop by the souvenirs from that particular day since he didn't really got any chance to.

Satoru Gojo is very prideful and quite egoistic and that is no secret. One day, his pride and ego will be the death of him.

7th December 2016 || 1 am

Satoru arrived at the Estate.

The air felt heavy but he went in anyways. Flashes of that day playing endlessly in his head. How everything unfolded and how you ran after him to stop him but his infinity barred you. Satoru feels guilty.

He usually doesn't have any guilt or regret regarding anything but with you... its different. He shouldn't have just walked away maybe. Maybe talking to you and trying to understand you where you're coming from would've helped.

He enters the house and is welcomed by the sleepy head staff.

"Welcome back Lord Satoru. Shall i prepare your room? I'll warm the food-", the head staff, Mr Kawaguchi, asked.

"No need", "is y/n asleep? How's she doing?", Satoru asked as if didn't even hear what Mr Kawaguchi said.

"Yes, Lord Satoru, Lady y/n is better now.", he said and started guiding Gojo to the room where you resided, "Lady y/n had trouble sleeping so the doctor had prescribed some sleeping pills"

Both of them reached outside your room. Satoru ordered the Mr Kawaguchi to leave him.

Satoru closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying his best to suppress his intrusive thoughts of hugging you and tell you that he's sorry (something he would never utter), have a conversation with you to figure things out on what is the root cause of such an abrupt bringing up of something as hideous as a Divorce.

He opened the sliding doors and entered the room for the first time after the last time he'd been here.

You were sleeping on your back with your arms all around and legs in another direction, trying to cover all of the space of the bed as much as you could.

This was your marital bed. A bed custom made to fit the giant 6'4 of a husband of yours.

But now it was just you...

He looked around the room. Recalling the old times, the 4 years of marriage he had.

What a blissful dream it was... just you and him against the world. Deep in love, exploring new things together. The warmth of your palm on his, your blushing cheeks whenever he kissed your lips before leaving for his missions. The nights that he had spent in your warmth on this very bed, in this very room. Old times when you slept in the protection of his big strong arms or when he picked you up from the bed and threw you into the water filled bathtub...

Blissful times indeed...

A smile had crept on Satoru's lips because the memories.

He placed the bag of souvenirs by the bedside table and leaned down to look at your face.

Dark circles, slight hollow cheeks, bony hands, piles and piles of medications.

'Oh what have you done y/n', he thinks looking at you.

If he had to be honest, he's never been this vulnerable in his life like he is now. So many emotions flooding him that he couldn't help but remove his dark glasses and lean down to your face.

He placed his hands gently caressing your soft hair and dropped a kiss on your forehead.

You were lost in your dreams and Satoru was in his. His dreams where he had you and took better care of you and did everything right.

But that's just a dream. A dream with no scope of fulfillment...

He knew this is the last and final time he'll see you this up close.

"Y/n.." he whispered, "I hope you find-", he struggled to say any further but still got himself to say it, "I hope you find someone better who will give you a better life... that i failed too."

Satoru couldn't bear to look at you any further from this moment. He gave his blessings to you for a better life and left that instant.

He knew he won't stop you from leaving if... no, when thats what you want. A person who loves, will never hold their lover captive against their will.

And that's what Satoru believes in...

It was 8am in the morning.

You were sitting in your bed, wrapped in the thick blankets while sipping your soup that your attendant brought while Shoko sat in the gray arm chair beside your bed reading newspaper.

Shoko has been visiting you every morning and evening to check up on you whether you're taking your pills timely and also to give you company considering the fact that you barely have any friends.

Your only friend, if you have to name with whom you would share everything would be Shoko and Mariko Zenin (whom you befriended during Clan meetings.).

You saw today's date.

'7th December', it read.

"Shoko... its his birthday today...", you mumbled with your head bowed

Shoko looked at you and she could see it, all the emotions that reflected on your face.

She wanted to confront you that why don't you tell him that it was all but a mistake afterall didn't he try to persuade you? So this should be easy?

She knew though this isn't the right time because you're still recovering but she couldn't hold herself...

"Y/n", Shoko began and you looked up at her.

"Y/n why don't you tell him about it? He has all the right to know you know! Didn't you say he persuaded you to not to leave? And you don't want to leave either!" She made a point. "So just call... this weird thing between you two off already. And be together"

You kept blankly staring at her.

Is it all really that easy? As if!

"Shoko, i can't." You told her.

"But why? Wouldn't it be easier?"

"Shoko you don't understand! I can't... i can't just tell Satoru that he was going to be father! You don't get it!", you tried to explain her.

"But why? Y/n why? Try me!", Shoko got up from the arm chair and sat on the bed and held your hand.

You didn't want to tell her. You really don't want to but she's the only person whom you trust.

"Shoko you don't get it, you don't get it!", you insisted

"Try me y/n!"

"You won't get it Shoko!", you kept refusing

"Y/n!", Shoko kept insisting.

"Satoru didn't want to be father and that was our mutual agreement before we got married! I've always taken precautions to stand by my word ever since our marriage... but Satoru's family has been pressing me to get pregnant... So i didn't take any pills one day and a month later found out i was carrying... our baby.."

Shoko was left speechless.

But you continued with tears rolling down...

"I thought... when Satoru will return I will tell him everything but before i could... i-i lost our child". You struggled

"Maybe it was the God's way of punishing me for trying to force an innocent man like Satoru something he isn't prepared for.", you laughed through the tears. "Maybe its better this way Shoko. We should Divorce. I can't carry children to make his family happy anyway..."

Shoko wanted to say but the words just wouldn't come to her tongue. Maybe its because its not her place to interfere.

"Y/n...", Shoko didn't know what to say any further so she leaned closer and hugged you.

You hugged her back. You felt like a large rock got off of your chest now that you told her everything...

But things were about to take a different direction because one of the lady staff was secretly eavesdropping your conversation.

And she heard... all of it...

Tags

@sindela @dazai-gojo-kinnie @whats-humanity-lol @thewickedofrizz @phantasmia @ghostllyyz @yihona-san06 @Enaaneaen@sweet-almonds @Angel_🫶🏻@autumn-slaves @wondermilka @hh0pe @kugisakinobarades @witchbybirth @nineooooo @ssc7514 @Hana-patata @blue_spices @haikyuubiggestsimp @urstepmom69 @hueneve @chayunwoo@waosobii @nadzhaf @yoriichiswife @tiltraumadouspart @kirschtein123 @whoisobsessed @Asala @ashthemadwriter @remnirris @svm666 @voidsatoru @staygoldsquatchling02 @dunnowhy-m @nnasv @violetmatcha

If i forgot to tag anyone, i apologise.

A/N- The next chapter will be quite spicy ^v^

[unearthly-doting]

the wind will guide you home

a/n: idk idk i just really like the anemo characters soso much. kept it pretty vague i think so you can decide if the reader is willing or unwilling. no faruzan or lynette bc i couldn't think of anything for them :(

includes: aether, lumine, venti, jean, xiao, kazuha, sucrose, heizou, and wanderer.

premise: you wandered a little too far away from your partner for their liking. maybe you were trying to escape, maybe not. but don't worry, they'll find you.

warnings: mdni, yandere content, gn reader, implied/referenced kidnapping, overprotective behavior, possessive behavior, obsessive behavior, implied drugging, stalking, unhealthy relationships, vague mentions of dependency, uh whatever the fuck is happening in wanderer's section.

AETHER — is immediately panicked the moment he realizes you aren't by his side anymore. he never lets you travel with him, it was dangerous and you were safer tucked away in the little area he kept you in, safe from the dangers of this mysterious world. it was his fault, really. he had forgotten to lock the door the last time he visited, having been in such a hurry for one reason or another. you, for some reason, had decided to leave even though he had told you time and time again that it was dangerous. he wouldn't waste any time looking for you, hurrying outside, and using everything he had to his advantage to search for you. if you have a vision, he's definitely using his elemental sight to track you down. and when he does find you, he's immediately latching himself onto you, clinging to you and breathing a sigh of relief. he was completely oblivious to the horrified look on your face, just glad to have you in his arms again. "let's get you home. it's not safe for you out here."

LUMINE — would more than likely notice immediately when you vanish. she keeps you at her side at all times to ensure that she can protect you, so you're rarely ever away from her. the moment she sees that you're gone, she's abandoning whatever it was she was doing to find you. it doesn't matter if it was a commission or some important task that will help her get a better understanding of this world. you were more important than that right now. you needed to be back by her side. her tracking skills were incredibly good, so you wouldn't get far before she had you in her sights again. it doesn't matter if you were trying to escape or if you were just distracted and wandered off, the grip she had on your wrist was tight once she caught up to you, and she refused to let you go until the two of you were back at whatever inn or camp you two were staying at. she'll bind your hands together and tie the end of the rope to her wrist if you try arguing with her. "i can't keep you safe if you refuse to stay by my side."

VENTI — is honestly the only one here that will find you like almost immediately. even if he isn't paying attention to you and instead wowing a crowd with his amazing bard skills, the wind will tell him the moment you're gone. he'll stop midstory at the news, politely excusing himself and promising to be back later with an even better story. he'll let the wind guide him, listening to the whispers as he hurries down the streets of mondstadt, picking up pace when the wind tells him you were heading for the main gate of the city. if he uses his powers as the anemo archon to cause a harsh gust of wind to knock everyone away from the gates of the city just so he can catch up with you, then... well... it's not like anyone will know it was him. other than you, of course. and the moment you recovered from hitting the ground, venti was at your side and helping you up. he let you keep your freedom, most of it at least, but he didn't want you to leave the city if he wasn't at your side. he doesn't let go of your hand as he drags you back, an upbeat smile on his face as he playfully spoke, "you're missing my performance! you know i can't perform without my biggest fan watching me." you miss the tightly concealed desperation in his eyes as he stared at you. you can't leave him. he won't let you.

JEAN — is so busy with work that she rarely has the time to keep track of every little move you make. honestly, she probably won't realize you're gone until kaeya or amber drop by and tell her that they saw you wandering outside the city, seemingly heading in the direction of liyue. she's immediately abandoning whatever paperwork she had been looking through, hurrying out of her office and rushing past the citizens in the city to get to you. her mind was running wild trying to figure out why you would even think about leaving the city, let alone leaving without telling her. she's almost out of breath by the time she finds you, the sun starting to set as she crashes into you in a tight hug while rapid-fire questioning you on why you were leaving mondstadt and if she did something wrong and what she could do to make it better. it isn't hard to calm her down, cutting off her questions and explaining that you were simply going to visit some family in liyue and that you had left a note for her at home because you didn't want to bother her when she was so busy. whether or not that was the truth, she didn't care. she was pulling you back in the direction of the city, shaking her head. "no, i can't focus on anything when you aren't here. i need you."

XIAO — felt a little hurt, finding you gone. he was one of the hardest to get away from, always at your side unless the traveler called him away or something happened that required his attention. he thought you had gotten used to him by now, seeing as you never shied away from him when he was around anymore. so yeah, he was real fucking hurt when he returned to the inn and found your room empty. not even verr knew where you had gone. he isn't the type to immediately panic, but he is tense and will gradually get more agitated the longer it takes to find you. if he finds you quickly, the most you'll get is a cold glare as he drags you back to the inn. if he finds you after searching for hours upon hours, he will cling to you as if you would disappear if he let go. his breathing would be heavy, his face buried in your neck as he grounds himself. you were back in his arms, and either way, he wasn't going to let you leave his sight until he was sure you weren't going to pull a stunt like this again. if you want to wander around, then just ask and he'll go with you. "don't ever do that again. don't... don't ever leave me like that."

KAZUHA — would feel torn. while he understands the need and desire to roam the world and take in all that one can process, he also felt uncomfortable when you weren't around. a sick feeling budding in his chest, wondering if maybe you weren't wandering off but instead trying to leave him. he wants to trust you, and most of the time he does, but... you've tried leaving him before. many times, actually, that he's lost count. so, as much as he would love to leave you to your own devices, he just didn't trust you enough. he would ask other travelers if they'd seen you by chance, and some would point him in your direction while others would shake their heads. no matter, he took any and all help given to him until he finally spotted you. his approach was quiet, and you were startled when you had finally noticed him. he didn't say anything for a moment, just staring at you. there was something about his gaze that felt more intense than normal. it was like he was studying you, deciphering your actions. it didn't last long, because the look was replaced with a soft smile as he held his hand out, beckoning you to take it. "let's walk together."

SUCROSE — also didn't immediately notice. similar to jean, she can get pretty busy with work and gets so invested that she'll often times forget her surroundings. it's only when albedo or noelle make a comment on you not being by her side that she snaps to attention, looking around with a puzzled expression. when had you left? how long had you been gone? when she had last spoken to you, the sun was high in the sky. it was dark now. she would stutter out a quick departure to whichever friend had told her you were gone before scurrying away to try and find you. she would have the hardest time finding you, nervously approaching strangers on the street and asking if they had seen you or not. one person mentioned seeing you at the barbatos statue, and she immediately darted off in that direction without sparing the informant a second glance. and she was damn near tears when she found you. she wouldn't understand why you had left without telling her first, wondering if maybe she had done something to upset you. she'd be apologizing, telling you she was sorry if she made you mad, and begging you to come home. given how you two were in public, you felt a bit out of place so you agreed just to stop having people look at you. she would hug your arm the entire time, refusing to let go until the two of you were back at her home. and then she'd offer you something to drink! as an apology! and, well... if she puts a little something in it to tire you out, then that's too bad. "o-oh, you feel sick? maybe you should try to rest... don't worry, i'll be here to take care of you."

HEIZOU — would be the second one to find you quickly. he's a detective, so obviously he'll be able to track you down with ease! your attempts at trying to cover were tracks were adorable but futile. he had found you probably a mere hour after you had gone off, though he didn't immediately make his presence known. he was curious as to why you had left so abruptly without telling him, wondering if maybe something had happened or if you were, perhaps, trying to leave him. but you wouldn't do that! right? either way, he's following you in secret. some may call this stalking, but he calls it... lovingly admiring from afar. this'll go on for hours, more than likely. he's not in any rush to drag you home, and he gets to partake in his favorite pastime! so, by all means, continue walking. he'll probably do a few things here and there to startle you, making noises by shaking bushes and branches or throwing rocks. he likes seeing you on edge; he thinks you're cute when you're constantly looking around, searching for him. of course, once you get too close to ritou for his liking, he'll bring the fun to an end and finally make his presence known by hugging you from behind, a cheeky smile on his expression as you tense up. "caught you!" he hums, pressing a kiss to the back of your neck as if to prove to you that he was actually there. maybe he'll lock you up at home for a few days just to keep you all to himself. y'know, as his prize for catching you.

WANDERER — thinks it's amusing, honestly, that you think you can sneak off without him noticing. he'll let you go off on your own and let you think you have the freedom of doing so, but only because he has other pressing matters to attend to. he'll take is time too, going about his tasks at a languid pace, not at all worried about where you may be or where you might go. some people may ask about your whereabouts since you're usually almost always with him, and he'll just offer them a smile that... well. it puts them on edge, to be honest, and it makes them drop the topic. he'll even occasionally take breaks, enjoying a drawn-out lunch with nahida and even deciding to indulge the traveler a bit and walk with them through the city. but the moment he finishes all of his tasks for the day, he's going after you. you've had enough freedom today, and he wants you back at his side. it's where you belong, after all. he won't lie, it's exciting, searching for you like this. he wonders if you know whether or not he's after you. maybe you've been looking over your shoulder the entire day, wondering if he'll be right behind you. the thought alone fills him with an almost gleeful joy. and when he does find you, he's not wasting a single second before grabbing you, lips twitching upwards slightly at the startled shout you let out. "did you have fun?" he'll ask, though it would be hard to tell if he wanted a serious answer or not. he doesn't really care, in all honesty. you're back in his arms, right where you belong. his prized possession.

[yandere-sins]

Ivyyyyyyyy >.< you're the worsttttt(read: BEST) oh my god the thoughts im having abt dilic with a period kink rn. Gawd and he doesn't even know it's a period kink, he thinks it's absolutely normal to do nasty things with his girl while she's bleeding out and feels proud about it that HE can take her pain away

OMG continuing the diluc saga but yan dilic thinks darling's period is the perfect opportunity to finally put his hands on darling. He knows you're in pain so he promises, he's doing this for YOU not him (lies) he'll ease it in gently and make it feel good! Soon darling will forget all about those cramps bc of him him him! He doesnt need to feel as guilty bc he's helping you out.....right? OMG PLS write something abt thissss, it can be any yandere or oc but im going crazy after what u saiddd

Hehe, you're welcome! I began writing this as just a talk, but decided mid-way through to make it a scenario!

a/n: I wrote this before my hiatus and coming back to correct it, I found so many mistakes, it doesn't even feel like I wrote this smh... I did my best to polish it a bit since I can't see myself rewriting it in the future but if you find anything oddly worded just ignore it lol I wasn't myself back then :')

[Warning: Yandere, Sexual Content]

I can just see the cock cogs turning in this idiot's head as he racks his brain about how he can help you. Clearly, you're in pain, but no matter how many more times he calls a physician to have a look, they just keep waving off his concerns. It's normal, they say. You're healthy. That's what everyone has to go through.

And yet he sees you writhing and crying in pain—it's breaking his heart!

Pillow pressed to your stomach, tears in your eyes that you can't blink away fast enough before they fall. You're especially irritable, but it hurts him more when you whine and complain; Diluc wanting to help you now more than ever. He's already gone through the usual stuff, the imported water bottles from Snezhnaya and the chocolate from Fontaine. If you utter so much as a craving, he has the servants scramble to get it to you. Nothing is too expensive or too hard to get. You could have asked for the heads of your enemies, and Diluc would have brought them to you with ribbons and glitter if that had helped with your pains.

But alas, it doesn't.

It's been three days, and his nerves are raw, the bags under his eyes dark, and the burden of your health weighs heavily on Diluc. He can't see how things will ever get better. The other times you were on your period were conveniently skipped by business trips, so this is hitting him full force.

"Exercising might help," one of the maids suggests as he forces himself to consult someone more knowledgeable than him.

"Sometimes, my wife likes a little stimulation to alleviate the pain," a vintner chuckles, winking at Diluc as the word of his helplessness spreads. And suddenly, inappropriate ideas get stuck in his head, making him blush like a young lad in love.

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Taking a deep breath, Diluc raised his hand to knock on your bedroom door. It was terribly late, the servants asleep and only the eery flickering of his candle guiding him through the night. Most likely, you were tugged in and fighting for your well-deserved sleep, so he hesitated, fist hanging in the air before slowly dropping it to his side.

What he was about to do was not only foolish but also filled him with the same burning in his body as using his vision did. He could feel the warmth sweep over him from his head to his toes, the latter curling in his shoes while most of the heat was throbbing between his legs, aching to connect with your warmth in a less-than-innocent way.

However, these feelings were nothing compared to the agony of the last few days.

If this was what he had to do to help you alleviate the pain, he would. If it was for you, Diluc would do anything in his power, whether to protect or help you. If he had to become a mere plaything so you'd be freed of the pain, then his concerns were a small sacrifice for all the good he was going to do.

Brushing his hair back, Diluc took a deep breath, reminding himself there was nothing wrong with wanting to help. If the method the vintner suggested worked, everyone would be happy. And if not, he'd keep searching for ways to free you of the pain. Turning the key in the door lock, he pulled it out before slowly entering your room, ensuring he could give you two the privacy needed in this situation.

To his surprise, you were still awake.

You made a half-hearted attempt at a greeting, but when you noticed it was him, you only scoffed, turning away. It hurt when you gave him the cold shoulder so callously, but Diluc knew you were the one suffering at that moment, not him. He could forgive you for being dismissive of him. Your bedside lamp was still on, and he could see you clutching a pillow to your belly, his own stomach cramping up with remorse, even though, logically, he knew it wasn't his fault. He loved you as you were, the good and bad days, your misery becoming his own much too easily these days.

Setting down the candle on your table, he walked over to you. But not before locking the door from the inside, just so he could give himself a few more seconds before his approach. Every step cost him a lot of discipline, being near you never having been this hard. Even when he looked confident around you, Diluc only ever felt weak. You made him vulnerable. Desperate. Longing for your love and affection was all he was allowed to do, so even just watching your chest rise and fall set him ablaze.

Pushing off his shoes, Diluc focused on the little space you left at the edge of the bed. It was the only space he could see that was reserved for him, as he didn't deserve to share your bed, in your opinion. Yet, when he climbed in, pulling the cover over himself and snaking his arm around your waist, he was enveloped in your scent, your hair tickling his skin as he breathed in deeply. Had he known that heaven was hiding so closely to him, he might not have waited so long to come and see you.

"What are you--" you complained, pushing yourself away from him. But Diluc's hand had already wandered beneath the pillow, feeling the hot water bottle you kept secured there, only to replace it with his palm. He was just as, if not hotter than anything the servants could procure for you; his body temperature naturally elevated from his vision. It wouldn't burn you, but with his hand hugging your lower belly, it was much more effective and fitting than any appliance might be.

And you fell for it, even if just for a split second.

For a moment, you leaned into the comfort of his palm, the pain vanishing in the blink of an eye. Diluc even caught you sighing briefly before you came to your senses, jolting and pushing away from him, only to get stuck inside the blanket and pressed up against him. Diluc couldn't help but grin, having read your actions before they even occurred to you, but of course, this was a serious matter, so he quickly composed himself.

"H-Hey!" you yelled as his hand drifted lower, his face burying into the nape of your neck. He wasn't there to dilly-dally but to be of service. To help you in your time of need. By the time Diluc pressed his lips to your skin and his fingers between your legs, you understood his intentions as well, perhaps misinterpreted, but clear as day.

He was going to fuck the pain away. 

If exercise and stimulation helped others, maybe it would do the same for you. His fingers were met with warm slick, your body flinching when he moved over your clit. Perhaps his calloused hands weren't made for caressing and soft touches but for teasing and stimulating. Judging by how puffy your lower lips were, worked up from days of rubbing your legs together and your panties aggravating them mercilessly, you were in dire need of his help.

"Don't fight it. You're not alone in this," Diluc reassured you as you squirmed in his hold, biting back the salacious sounds of pleasure you were keeping from his ears. You were so mean, keeping every little taste of appreciation from Diluc, knowing how much it meant to him. But he'd endure. Even when your ass ground back against his cock, making it incredibly hard to not focus on his needs as well, he'd put you first in all of this.

When he slipped his pointer and middle finger towards your entrance, a tremor went through your body, a gasp slipping out from between your lips. Diluc never knew how easy it was to get inside another person, greeted warmly and happily by your hole clenching around his fingers.

His kisses became more fervent against your neck, teeth snapping out as he felt like he was losing himself in your scent and warmth. The pushes of his hips against your ass became faster, your cheeks fitting so well around his shaft. You yelled at him to stop, but he barely heard you through the sounds of your sloppy, wet cunt, blood mingling with eager juices to allow him more reach inside you. It was almost as if he could hear them beg for him to go deeper, which just wasn't possible with his knuckles in the way, no matter how much he tried.

Forgotten was the pain as pleasure raked its claws through both of you, and yet, Diluc still heard you whine and sob as he scissored his fingers through your inside. It wasn't enough. He opened his eyes he didn't know he had closed, staring at your expression curiously. All he saw was anger and disgust, your teeth bared and ready to snap, while he could feel your nails digging into his arm. And yet, when he found your eyes, he saw a very different version of events. Lust, desire, longing. You wanted more, and Diluc wouldn't refuse such a request.

Slipping a leg between yours, he pried them apart, spreading you open wide. You gasped, squirming and trying to cut off his access, but Diluc only had to lean back to steal your balance, your body reliant on his while he gained more space on your bed. The hardest part was freeing his cock from the restraint of his pants, the fabric soggy with both your juices as well as his own pre-cum pearling off the tip of his engorged cock.

Nothing could have prepared him for the feeling of your wet cunt greeting his eager cock. No imagining of this situation could have come close to the throbbing heat, your walls convulsing around his fingers in eager expectation. Diluc placed his tip against his fingers, planning to slip them out and take the opening to sink into you, but with how wet the combination of blood and juices was, he felt himself slipping away, kissing your clit instead.

And for the first time, you moaned.

It was the sound of angels and everything nice, and he drew his hips back, trying again to fill you with his cock, missing it just an inch. All good things are three, and when he finally plunged it deep inside your pussy, you weren't the only one yowling in pleasure. No matter what he had imagined his first time with you to be, nothing would ever top the mess he caused between your legs, his cock ready to burst as it pulsated violently inside your equally as ready cunt.

He could feel the waves of pleasure going through you, the shudders in your limbs as he began to slowly press forward, kissing the last few inches of his reach. You remained stiff as a plank, but when he pulled out halfway before sinking in deep again, you were unable to keep your mouth shut, an elongated moan making its way to Diluc's ears, letting him know it was the right thing after all.

Immediately, any hesitation fell off him as he dragged his cock out and sunk it back into you. Fingers retreated to your clit, continuing to slip off and assault the little knob over and over while your walls clenched around his shaft, making you feel every one of his throbs and ridges, the heat between you two almost scorching.

Part of him couldn't believe it worked. That he actually managed to help you with this trick. But he'd have been a liar if he said it wasn't a pleasure for him, too. Diluc could never have dreamed about your proficiency in driving him wild, from your hot, puffy pussy wrapping around him to the improper sounds he had never heard coming from your lips before. The blood kept you so wet and loud down there; it was like you were synching your moans with your pussy, sloppy as they were.

It couldn't have been better, a shudder going through you from head to toe, your feet curling as you gurgled. Diluc wrapped his free arm around your throat, pulling you against him and burying his face in your shoulder as you came hard, juices leaking out, red dripping on the clean sheets with the blanket long discarded.

You were gasping for air as he plunged right back into you, waiting but a mere few seconds of yours before pursuing his own orgasm. Selfishly, but unable to stop. Diluc was already too deep in it, quite literally, your orgasm making your inside tight around him, but it posed no challenge with how drenched you both were.

A strained groan escaped Diluc as he buckled, feeling the first squirts of cum shoot out of him before he drew back, popping out of your cunt and covering it in his cum. His tip got stuck on your clit, as his jizz ejected under the pressure of his orgasm, making you mewl as you were once again stimulated. It would be a mess to clean, but it had been worth it.

You two collapsed, spent and dirty, but Diluc slipped his palm back over your lower stomach, rubbing the collection of juices over your soft skin, leaving a red trail. Kissing the side of your head, he was trying to collect his breath and thoughts, barely able to think straight as the feelings of happiness and his relief kept him in a chokehold.

"Better?" he asked, his voice a blissful rumble as he pulled you firmer against him.

But all he was met with was a cold glare and tears in your eyes. "I-I'm sorry," he stuttered instinctively, immediately feeling bad. What had he done to upset you again? Your teeth were biting into your lip as if you were holding back a tirade of screaming, ready to explode.

His cock twitched between your legs, bloody and so, so wet.

"I'll make it better! I promise! I will definitely make it better," he tried to reassure you, dazed with pleasure as he was, unable to see the actual problem with all of this. Your body convulsed in shock as he pressed his tip upwards again, and you gasped loudly as he sunk his inches inside you. This time, he wouldn't fail to make you feel better. And until then, he'd keep going.

All night long, if he had to.

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

why i love aziraphale and why i find his character so heartbreaking

So I made a post on why I relate to Crowley and I adore him, obviously. I think a few you misunderstood what I meant there, though (which is understandable, I was a bit incoherent but that is inevitable on this blog). I wasn't saying Aziraphale didn't care about Crowley or was horrible to him, rather the opposite.

What I was saying was maybe Crowley felt unloved against his better judgement, because he knows he is loved by Aziraphale, but maybe everything he has been through has started to chip away at that knowledge. It's happened to me, I'm sure it's happened to a few of you. You are assured that you are loved, you can see them doing things for you, but you feel unloved. Maybe because of the other people who don't love you. Maybe because... you don't love yourself.

But I definitely wasn't putting down Aziraphale, who is a beautiful character. I adore him. I love how every single second, all his emotions are on his face. That's actually how I realised they'd switched bodies--in heaven, 'Aziraphale' had a cool, dismissive look on his face. That could only be Crowley, I knew, because Crowley is a bit better (not a lot, not around Azi of course) at masking his emotions.

That's what's so beautiful about Azi, we can just see how much he feels, how much he adores Crowley, how much hope he had, how much faith in Heaven, how much determination to do the right thing. How determined he is to keep Crowley safe, to make Crowley smile and laugh, and how much it kills him every time he has to push Crowley away for both of their sakes, or he thinks he has to. You both want to protect that optimism and faith, and also shake him and tell him the truth. But how do we know better than him, a 6000 year old angel? There's so much that we don't know, that may have happened behind the scenes, that's orchestrating his decisions.

Some of you are certain that there is more, that he doesn't still believe that what Heaven offers is genuine, because how could he? I'm also sure that there is more, but can I also offer an alternate idea? Even if there wasn't more, maybe he isn't to blame if he did continue to believe in Heaven's goodness.

We've been in toxic relationships. With friends, partners, family. I know how hard it is to accept that something you love is not worthy of that love. Something you admired is something flawed. Something you would do anything to keep is something you need to push away.

The worst of all, of course, is that time, somewhere in our childhood or teens or adulthood, when a lot of us realise our parent or parents are not heroes. That we don't agree with them. That they were wrong about a lot of things. Because they taught us everything, they were our guides, how could they be wrong? And if we can't believe in them, then what are we supposed to believe in?

Maybe Aziraphale is going through that journey, over all those millennia. Some of us are forced to realise it before we even turn ten, some of us haven't realised it yet, some of us may not ever or may not need to.

Maybe Aziraphale is just a child of God, realising that Heaven, his technical family, is not the Good that not only they but the entire world believes them to be. Everyone says Heaven is good, including a lot of Hell, including a lot of humankind, it's just given. What is Heavenly is good. And Aziraphale wants to be good.

But he's going through that painful journey of realising that good may not be what he was taught, that good comes in many shades and tints and hues. And we can see him do it, we can see him defy Heaven and God, for Crowley or for humans or for himself. He's doing it, and we need to see how it isn't easy for him. Having your entire system of belief deconstructed is painful and awful. And if you were wrong once, how do you know you won't be the next time?

It's hard enough for Crowley, torn between whether he was unworthy or whether Heaven was wrong. Imagine the tumult that Aziraphale goes through, because if Heaven accepts him and Heaven isn't always good, does that mean Aziraphale has been doing it all wrong all his life?

He's going through something that we all go through, and is every bit as relatable as Crowley is. I love them both so much. I'm so glad that there's a third season, to see how that arc closes, to see if maybe they find the answers we're all looking for.

@adverbian and @howmanyholesinswisscheese, I hope this helps? Again, I haven't watched season 2 yet and have a horrible memory since I've been watching season 1 heavily medicated, so this is just from what I know and can tell and headcanon, perhaps.

[seresinhangmanjake]

Methods of Love and Trust

dad!Jake "Hangman" Seresin x female reader

Summary: For the first time, Jake is allowing his mother to babysit his children by herself. He's terribly nervous, but he promised you a date.

Warnings: implied smut. I think that's it, really.

Notes: this is a combination of two asks/comments from @rosiahills22 and @matisse556 for the Oh, Baby Series. I changed some tiny details, but I hope you guys like it :)

Words: 1755

---

"Jake," you quickly snapped, but your husband didn't tear his intense stare from the sight before him. He only hummed. A lame acknowledgment compared to what you were wanting from him. "Stop being weird and let's go."

You felt ridiculous, tugging at the cuff of Jake's sleeve the way your daughter did when leading him along on some adventure. She, however, was much more successful in her attempts. Thirty minutes had passed with you trying to guide your husband out the door, but his feet were planted, his stance sturdy, his eyes glued to your son in Eliza Seresin's arms. 

"I'm not being weird, I'm just–" he paused before his next word. Smart of him, you thought. You both knew the end of that sentence was nonsensical. I'm just watching, checking, making sure my mother doesn't kidnap or harm or neglect our children when our backs are turned. With the way he was acting, it seemed to be the only way that sentence could complete. 

"You're being silly, baby," you replied. "Stop looking at your mother like she has bad intentions. You’ve wanted her to move here permanently for years, remember? You were finally able to help her find a house she loves, so what's going on with you?"

Jake turned away from the window where his mother and children were in clear view in the backyard. "I know," he agreed. "And I do want her here. But alone, Honey? With our children? Their safety, their lives, in her hands?" He made a face and shook his head. "I'd like it better if Gram were here with her."

Your freshly painted fingernail scratched at the bow of your top lip before you crossed your arms. "Look, baby, I don't want to say that you sound unhinged exactly, but perhaps paranoid? Just a tad?"

"Honey…" was a little whine. 

"We knew the day would come when your mother would have to go solo. What happened to that trust you were working on?" You asked, and his shoulders instantly fell. Stepping toward him, you placed your palms flat on his chest and leaned in close. "And me? You promised me a date. Last I checked, that involved dinner and beach sex, and I've yet to receive either."

The mossy green of his irises flashed then darkened, and you grinned with pride. If anything could get his mind off his troubles it was the thought of rolling around with you in any position, in any location, at any time. And you enjoyed having that power. Though despite him being smart enough to keep his mouth shut about it, you knew it was rare that sex didn't also have him imagining a third little Seresin. A topic you'd been putting off, and would continue to do for as long as possible. 

"Jake, she is here to babysit so we can go have some fun of our own. Don't let me go unsatisfied," you said, throwing in a pout as your fingers fiddled with one of the buttons of his shirt.

"When have I ever left you unsatisfied?"

"Never, yet. So it would be a shame to break your winning streak, don't you think?"

—

"Baby, why are you stressed again? You were perfectly at ease twenty minutes ago," You said as you adjusted your bra strap and tucked it back under the cap sleeve of your dress.

Jake's hands were tight around the steering wheel, his eyes glued to the road.

"Twenty minutes ago I was balls deep inside of you. That tends to quell my stress, Honey. But my balls are back in my pants now and I have to remember that my mother is the only one protecting our babies at the moment."

Brushing the leftover sand off your knees, you snickered. "Protecting them from what?"

"Anything. Everything!"

You placed a hand atop his on the steering wheel, and the gentle touch encouraged his following deep breath. He released the right side of the wheel to intertwine your fingers, then brought your hand to his lips for a kiss.

"Jake, I know your mother wasn't much of a caregiver when it came to you," you continued, "but she wouldn't let anything happen to our children. After accepting her back into your life, she wouldn't let you down."

His lips parted then closed. They thinned from their tight pressing together before he expelled a long sigh. "Not intentionally…but I know."

With a smile, you pulled his hand into your lap and let your index finger trace along one of the veins showing under his tanned skin. You caught a few tiny rough grains when you made it to his wrist. 

"You're still sandy," you said. 

"Pretty sure my fly is still undone, too."

You chuckled as Jake pulled into the driveway of your home. 

A wave of relief washed over you when you noticed his subtle grin. You were proud of him on your date. He’d set his concerns aside so you could give one another the long-awaited and well-deserved attention you’d both been craving since your son was born. And you’d definitely had your fun. But more than that, despite his anxiety, you'd managed to calm him during your short drive home, which meant he hopefully wouldn’t be charging in head-first on the hunt for his mother's mistakes. With luck, he'd simply thank her, check on his children in their beds, and call it a night.

"Well, zip up mister, so we can go see our babies."

—

The house was silent as you walked through the door and kicked off your heels; almost seeming uninhabited if not for the lone light emanating from the living room that was just out of sight. The low glow reflected off the creamy color of your walls, making it easy to find your way down the main corridor. 

“So?” Eliza asked, setting her book aside. “How was your date?”

You didn’t glance behind you when you sensed luck was not on your side. Without a doubt, Jake was scanning the area. For messes? No. His mother was practically pristine. For a droplet of blood or two from a minor injury? Unlikely. Surely you’d be greeted with the sobbing of your children. Nevertheless, you let him look around. If it meant realizing he was proven wrong then it was worth holding back the minor scolding. 

“Great, thank you,” you replied. “Needed.”

“I’m sure.” 

Her eyes flicked over your shoulder to her son, her hands starting to awkwardly fiddle in front of her. 

“Eve isn’t in bed,” Jake finally said. He moved over to the couch where your daughter was passed out on her stomach, a small mark of drool dampening the cushion. Sitting beside her, he brushed her blonde curls back out of her face. 

“Um…no,” Eliza began. “She wanted to wait up for you and since it’s a Friday I figured it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. Poor thing said Mama and Daddy always kiss her goodnight. She got that adorable pout on her face and crossed her arms and refused to move from that spot, but she was exhausted. The Little Man is tucked away though. Went down very easy.”

“Well, I appreciate you doing this, Eliza,” you said. “I know there’s a lot of energy to wear out.”

She waved a hand. “I’m always happy to watch my grandbabies.”

A few beats of tension-filled silence passed, you standing across from your mother-in-law while Jake continued to rub Eve’s back. You thanked her once more and she nodded before heading for the door. When her back was to you, you nudged Jake in the shin with the tip of your toe. 

As if expecting it, he looked up at you with an expression that could only be described as mildly irritated with a healthy dose of pleading in his stare, but you didn’t let him off the hook. Your head nodded toward his mother as she reached for her purse. 

Jake sighed and stood. “Mom,” he called. Eliza turned. Her nerves were not so easily concealed. “Thank you. Truly.”

The smile that slowly formed on her face was beautifully genuine. The wideness of her lips and natural narrowing of her eyes from the act deepened the wrinkles in her aged face, but they were hardly noticeable compared to the radiance emitting. 

“Any time, sweetheart,” she said. “Really.” Then she was gone. 

Jake twisted on his heel, eyes meeting yours. “Fine. You were right.”

“Baby,” you chuckled as you wrapped your arms around his waist. “I know it’s hard.”

He accepted your hug, pulling you further into him and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “You and our babies are the best thing that ever happened to me, Honey,” was a whisper against your skin. “Entrusting someone else with two-thirds of that is like leaving a couple of limbs behind when I walk out the door.”

You understood that feeling all too well. However, relying on others’ help after you’d had Eve without Jake by your side allowed you to adapt much quicker than him. You wouldn’t ever deny the little twist to your gut whenever you were without Jake or your children, but while acknowledging what your husband was experiencing, you learned to be the strong one. For him and the kids. 

Your bodies suddenly began to sway, back and forth to the deep humming of an unrecognizable tune; or what you thought was unrecognizable until the stringing together of a few known notes. The song you danced to the day you were married.

“You’re a sap, Jake Seresin.”

“You knew that when you married me.”

The agreement was on your tongue but a sleep-laced “Daddy” interrupted before the words could pass your lips. Eve was sitting up on the couch, both fists rubbing at her eyes, a yawn contorting the other dainty features of her face. 

When Jake moved out of your arms to lift Eve up in his, her head fell on his chest. Her mouth parted the slightest, her eyes remained closed, and when Jake said “Dance with me and Mama, baby girl,” you knew she was already back asleep. 

He returned to you and snuck the arm not holding Eve to his side back around your waist. You did the same. One around his hip, the other snuggling your daughter even closer. 

“I love you, Honey,” Jake whispered as the three of you continued your gentle swaying. 

“I love you, Jake,” you replied. 

Then the humming resumed to fill the small cocoon of space.

---

tags: @wkndwlff @kmc1989 @sagittarius-flowerchild @dempy @oliviah-25 @rosiahills22 @xoxabs88xox @novagreen04 @multifandomlover4life @mayhemmanaged @memeorydotcom @ryiamarie

[buckgasms]

what would daddy Bucky do if princess forgot her safe word but was clearly not enjoying whatever they were doing?

Hi Nonnie 🩵 thank you for your question 😘 I have taken this a bit further along than your request because it's a good idea to look after our Daddy Bucky too 💙

I think he would notice the changes in his princess and figure out a way to stop without upsetting you more.

So let's say you had your hands tied and he was watching your face and your lip was wobbling and you weren't making much noise, which is not usual. Sometimes you cry or whatever but it's normally like happy, spoilt tears. These ones are different.

So he slows his movement to a stop, drops his face down to yours and presses kisses to your cheeks. He gives you a moment to respond but you can't. It's too much.

"I've got a job for you princess..." He says softly and you nod, limbs shaking. "I want ten kisses babygirl.... Ten kisses, take as long as you want, but I need ten..."

As your brain catches up, you press soft, gentle kisses to his cheek. You do a few and he asks, "how many was that angel?" Gentle and kind and you stumble over your words. "It's ok Princess, can you start again...Count for me, out loud. I know you can do it Princess."

You breathe out a smile and start again. Your hands have been untied, and he's wrapped you up close. Your warm bodies are pressed together and before you even know it you are back down to Earth and pressing your tenth kiss to his lips.

"There's my girl" he whispers as you shiver a little and cling to him, teardrops gathering on your eyelashes. "M'sorry Daddy... I couldn't say it, couldn't say my words..." Your breath shudders and he holds you closer, stroking your back and telling you everything was ok.

💙

I think once you were feeling better and maybe you'd had a little doze while wrapped up in his arms you feel Daddy slip away into the bathroom.

You wait for a little while for him to come back but he doesn't come back, but you can't hear the shower or anything. So you slip out of bed and tiptoe into the bathroom where Daddy is standing staring at himself in the mirror and leaning heavily on the counter.

"Daddy... What's wrong?" You whisper and wrap your arms around him, pressing your face into his back. His heartbeat thuds heavily and his breathing seems slow and tight. He turns around and hugs you, pressing his lips to your head.

"I'm so sorry I scared your Princess. I never wanna hurt you baby.... I fucking hate it... I'm supposed to protect you... I made you cry..."

He holds your tighter and his breath shudders, so you grip his soft muscles and skim your hands up and down his body. "Daddy" you whisper, "you don't...you didn't hurt me Daddy, I promise..." He grunts a little but you just squeeze him tighter. "Daddy listen... I mean it..."

He hmms again and you move back a bit to look at him. You stroke his chest and face, wondering what to do, how to take care of your perfect daddy. Suddenly you smile and press a kiss to his cheek.

"Come on Daddy, I'll make you feel better..." He lets you drag him over to the big shower and watches as you turn the water on, smiling as you jump at the cold water, humming until it turns warm. Your outstretched hand guides him into the stream of water and you smooth your hands, guiding channels down his skin.

Taking a loofah and some of your fanciest soap and rub it all over him and you in the process. It doesn't take long before you are the bubbliest people in the world. As you wash, you ask him to pick his favourite things about you, and you pick your favourite things about him. He grips your waist gently, keeping himself grounded as you whisper pretty things and tell him how much you love him.

The water washes away bubbles and discomfort. You do your best to dry him off with a fluffy towel, but you are getting a little worn out now. Daddy is finally feeling more himself too, and takes up the task of drying you both off.

When you both slip into bed you are both wondering what to do but the exhaustion of the night takes over. It can wait till morning.

💙

You wake up to his kisses on your face, you both smell of your chosen shower gel and you feel absolutely warm and safe.

You spend the morning in bed, discussing safe words and perhaps a new way of expressing discomfort when words are hard. That makes you both happy. And he thanks you with endless kisses and praise for taking such good care of him when he was feeling sad.

You spend the rest of the morning tucked up with him in bed, and the worries of the night before have long gone....

[ohkkotsuu]

𝐈𝐁𝐓 — 𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐁𝐅 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆! choso kamo.

ৎ୭ PAIRING: choso kamo x gender neutral reader (they/them pronouns used, unspecified anatomy)

ৎ୭ ABOUT: your boyfriend never experienced many things from the normal human world, as a half-curse. he's fully convinced that he needs to be a better boyfriend. so, he'll do his best to be the best for you. he sets some rules to be a boyfriend, a good one.

ৎ୭ CW/TW: SFW. choso is just so sweet i wanna bite him, overprotective behavior (a bit), choso is a simp and he wants to marry you, this is really just him being head over heels for you, choso calls you some petnames, itadori and nobara are mentioned (not as a couple)! fluff. straight up fluff. i just wrote a lot of him being silly about you lololol maybe this will become a series?? with other characters maybe. also, please, if you enjoy it, tell me about it! i would love to interact more with reblogs and comments from you all.

CHOSO never knew what to expect from the future, always being surprised by the violent turns in his life. lose two of his brothers, find a new brother — and certainly, he hadn't expected to have his heart so deeply won by you. nor win yours back. a sweetness of fate after so much sourness, which he hoped to make it last.

so choso became your partner (apparently, a modern term is boyfriend, so that works too). however, he has no idea how to be a good boyfriend. that makes choso resort to the best wingman he knows, an expert in people and relationships — his brother, yuuji itadori.

and it's from there that choso actively engages in what yuuji called “intensive boyfriend training”.

said training consists in watching hours of romantic movies, flipping through cliché books with good male leads, even retorting to reading shojo manga to know how to act romantic. yuuji even enlisted the help of a friend, nobara, so they only have quality content for training. no toxic male leads, no weird unconsensual stuff. only the best examples so he could become the best boyfriend. choso wants to know everything about how a guy should act to be a good boyfriend. after all, you're his world, and you deserve the best and the best only.

curses acquire information from the brain of the vessel they inhabit, but choso himself has no relationship experience. Centuries of his life were focused solely on protecting his siblings, and that is still one of his priorities — but, another priority is also you. he sets down some personal rules to himself, just so he can guide his heart through this whole “being a good boyfriend” thing.

his number one rule is never lie to you. never. doesn't matter the circumstances, choso will absolutely always be truthful and honest with you. relationships are based on trust, love and sharing. you are the person who showed him that there are ways to love someone beyond platonic — and, in return, you'll have his heart and he'll have yours. you are a partner for life in his eyes, and he would trust you with everything.

he's always truthful about things: where he's been, who he's been with, how he's feeling, he doesn't hide anything. choso even overshares every now and then. in his eyes, there is not even a single reason to lie to you. originally, he hesitated at the question of “how are you?” if he wasn't doing alright. choso wanted to be your white knight, the one who could protect you and his brothers without having to be weak. he slowly opened up as he realized it wasn't wrong to be weak. another valuable lesson you taught him.

if he is not feeling well, he will be sincere and say that he is not feeling well. choso will usually asks for what he wants — hold your hand, cuddle, kisses, anything really. he is also very honest when you ask for outfit opinions, for example — he admires how different colors suit you, how different types of fabrics of many different looks adorn your body. you usually need to call him more than once.

“choso.”

“hm? yes, baby?”

his heart skips a beat when he sees your smile. “you're staring. did you like this one?”

unfortunately, his opinion for visuals isn't exactly helpful, per say. he thinks everything look pretty in you, and he'll be very straightforward about it, because it's never about the attires you wear for him, no — you are insanely perfect. you're what makes this clothes pretty, not the opposite. you are what makes his world more worth living.

“I love everything you wear. you look amazing in everything.” the corners of his mouth lift up a bit as he give you the usual lovey-dovey stare.

you giggle a bit, unable to stop yourself from thinking that he's just so cute, staring at you like that. as if you were the moon and the stars. or even more than that.

“thanks, choso, but we've been here for half an hour. I need help to pick an outfit.”

the second rule he sets for himself is to protect you and care for you. he's absolutely never taking you anywhere risky. he'll do anything to be sure you're safe — anything he can. choso is always off guard for you, you make him feel safer than ever. but he's not relaxing about other things.

he would never forgive himself if you were hurt because he's too relaxed. he doesn't always have to be perfect, he knows, but he will still give every last drop of his own blood for your safety and your smile.

he's always keeping an eye out for suspicious people or cursed energy. if any signs of danger appear, he is ready to catch you on his arms, bridal style, and just run away to get you somewhere safe — which has already created some situations that are as embarrassing as they are amusing. another option is him entering on this intimidating mode, if not the immediate fight response.

he also doesn't like curses, even weak ones, around you. he acquired the habit of killing them immediately, being careful not to splash the purple blood of the spirits on you. he also carries around a tissue, either to wipe his face if a drop or two has spilled or to wipe his hand — he would never hold your hand while his is dirty like that. this is his version of “boyfriend who kills bugs for you” (to be fair, he would kill bugs too, if they're bothering you). choso was surprised when he learned that this is something boyfriends do for their partners, watching it on a romance series where a guy kills a bug when his love interest was too scared to do the same.

he's protective, but he's trying to be careful not to scare you or be creepy. he pulls you by your waist, always so gentle, staring daggers at a guy at the mall, scaring him away.

“choso.” he turns his head to you, and his eyes soften immediately. “what are you doing?”

“that man was staring at you.” he says, a bit grumpy. you only giggle and lean in to give him a kiss on the cheek — something that makes his face pink and a soft smile creeps it's way into his expression.

“thank you. but you didn't had to scare him, I know that guy. he's an acquaintance of mine.”

“oh. should I get rid of him?” he asks.

“choso, no, that's not what I meant—”

the third rule is something he made up seeing romantic movies: be a gentleman. he was doing that already, by taking care of you, showing his love, but according to yuuji and nobara, people love when their boyfriend is kind and does stuff for them. which made choso really confused.

“people get..impressed, when their loved ones show affection and minimum care or respect?” he can't really understand it, but if it's what will make him a better boyfriend, he'll become the most cliche of a gentleman.

(he's totally unaware that he is one already, and that no one was expecting him to do more).

so he looks for all kinds of opportunities to do something for you. place your orders in stores if you are too shy to do so, carry your shopping bags for you, put his coat over your shoulders when it's cold.

the “problem” is that it becomes something on a medium-large scale. you don't carry anything around choso, he carries everything for you. even small bags. the only thing with you should be a purse or backpack (if you wear any of those), and even with that he offers to carry it for you.

then there comes a day when you two are walking and choso stops. before you can ask him what's wrong, he picks you up on his arms. you cling to his shoulders with a surprised yelp. one of his arms is under your legs and the other supporting your back like a groom carrying his bride — as he hopes that one day, he will be that to you. and much more.

he just carries you for a few moments more without even complaining. he never complains. he loves carrying you, doing things for you, and you weight nothing to him.

“choso, what are you doing? what was that for?” he looks down at you.

“there was a mud puddle in the way, dear. if you crossed it, you would get your shoes dirty.” he explains nonchalantly, with you still on his arms. he seems ready to put you down, if you ask for it.

you both know he would have you bridal-style on his arms for a whole day if you let him.

hearing your giggle makes his heart flutter. although, one of his eyebrows raise softly.

“choso, we could have just skirted around the puddle.”

“oh.” he hadn't thought of that.

the fourth and final rule is never forget. he should never forget anything about you or involving you. dating anniversary, your birthday, this man has it engraved on his memory. he understands that these are special days not only for human customs, but for him personally — after all, your dating anniversary is a celebration of one of the happiest days of his life. the day you and him became a couple.

he certainly thinks that day would only be surpassed by your future wedding anniversary. but these things can wait. the wedding can wait. he's happy just by being with you.

it memorizes all your preferences, from the simplest to the most complicated. he knows what kind of movies you like, which series you hate, which food you prefer for every situation. he has your favorite brands decorated so he can get those for you. choso memorized all your orders in coffee shops or diners so he can order for you, too. it also learns if you have allergies.

sometimes he can't really believe that humans have such organisms. resist some diseases, but if you eat a tomato being allergic, something like this kill a human? impressive.

if you are in a situation where another person is hanging out with you and they ask for something “wrong”, choso will politely correct them.

“no, actually, they're allergic to those.”

“my partner asked for this, actually.”

people may think he's being arrogant, by correcting everyone about what you want — but what surprises everyone, even you, is that he always get it right. he knows your gift preference: what items you like the most, or, if you like it, handmade gifts. he learns how to do those for you.

with a lot of help from the internet, yuuji and some moral support from nobara, choso sucefully made you a bracelet. he hands it to you carefully, a bit scared that you won't like it. it's one of those bracelets with letters on it, it reads:

“cho loves you”. you look at him, and he seems shy. this is the first time he actually made something instead of buying something.

“ran out of letters, so there was no way to have another S and O.” his tone is a bit apologetical, and his cheeks are pink. “I made it for you.”

before he can say anything else, you pull him for a gentle, sweet kiss. even such lovely action knocks the breath out of his lungs and makes his head spin. your smile when you lean back makes choso think he's in heaven.

“thank you, choso. I loved it, I loved it so much! help me put it on?” you ask with those cute puppy dog eyes.

and of course you could put the bracelet on for yourself, you both know it. but he accepts any excuse to touch you, and you want to see him do it. while he helps you with your new jewelry, it reminds you of the day he slipped a dating ring on your finger.

“done, baby.” he says softly, eyes laying on the bracelet and moving to your hand, where a ring that matches his adorn one of your fingers. his fingertips touches it softly and he smiles, whispering: “I'll marry you someday.”

“what was that, choso?”

“nothing.” he looks away, embarrassed. but in a way, you both know it: it's a promise.

©OHKKOTSUU on tumblr.

[theminecraftbee]

minotaur Joe for the fanon swap prompts? i feel like he'd do something very philosophical and Joe(tm) about mythology. or butterfly/moth Joe?

After waking up with a headache and looking in the mirror to shave, Joe pauses. He stares at his reflection in the mirror. For the past several days, he hadn't thought anything of it; it's usual enough, for a hermit to start to get weird as the day of the start of a new project approaches. Why, if all that moon stuff hadn't happened, Joe can only imagine what growing snakes would have been like for Cleo.

He wonders if it was anything like this: Joe wakes up, stretches, hears weird clacking as he goes to the bathroom, goes to grab his razor, and rather abruptly realizes that he doesn't have a beard, or, rather, that since he now has a bull's head, he has far more beard than can possibly be reasonably shaved, and he should throw the whole concept of 'shaving a beard' out the window.

"Huh," he says. "I guess growing horns does give people a headache? Who knew?"

If his voice is wavering as he says it, well, no one's around to hear. They're between seasons, and while Joe is sharing a server with several hermits at the moment, his mountain lodge doesn't have much by way of neighbors. He's alone to have this horrible revelation.

"How will the bunny ears look with the bull head?" he asks himself. He tries to picture the result and, determining it a little less existentially terrifying than a sudden, unplanned change of species, decides to put them on. He nods. "I am a Playboy Minotaur," he mutters to himself. "I am confident! Composed! Perhaps even a sexyman? Eh, I'll workshop it. I wonder if there's better-matching armor for this..."

He hitches in his morning routine when he realizes the weird clacking he'd been hearing had been hooves. Realistically, he should now be wondering how well any of his boots will fit, now that he doesn't really have toes, and if he needs to be shoed, like a horse might, to protect the hooves from damage instead. Realistically, he should be contacting Iskall about whatever modifications need to be made for the remainder of his time hunting vaults before season 10 starts. Realistically, he should be hunting down one of the less-human hermits and asking if eating burgers to gain levels is now cannibalism. All of these things are realistic concerns that he can bother people about right now, if he wants to!

Unrealistically, he's thinking more about a conversation he'd had with Cub the other day as he stares at his hooves, hands shaking far, far more than he'd care to admit.

They'd been arguing about who Daedalus was.

It had started when they started planning together. Joe had mentioned wanting to build a labyrinth a little bit ago, and Cub, who apparently loved building mazes, was going to help out with the planning. With any luck, all of the hermits were going to help build it! He'd rambled about giving himself a bit of themeing about Theseus as a result, about conquering this whole labyrinth build, this project he'd designed not to really have an end. About having to guide himself in and out through twisting tunnels.

Cub had then pointed out that if Joe had been building it, that technically makes him Daedalus; the one guy who knew the layout, the genius inventor building the trap for the server, designing its hallways. Joe had argued that was who Cub would be; Cub is the expert madman inventor being brought on, and Joe just like, wanted to build a maze. Cub had said that that sort of made Joe Minos then, but given season seven, the guy who once got cursed to turn everything he touched to gold didn't feel very fitting. Joe had agreed it hadn't fit. Maybe they'd split Daedalus then, if Theseus was a little too thematically muddled?

They'd laughed about it. Joe hadn't really intended for the maze to be based on myth, anyway. That would be stealing Cleo's bit, and he knows better than to do that.

And yet.

"We didn't consider I might be the Minotaur," Joe says to no one in particular. "You know. Of the figures associated with the Labyrinth, we didn't consider the big bull trapped in the middle. I should tell Cub we forgot about that one. It'll be a real laugh."

He can't quite say out loud the thing he's really thinking, which is this:

Well, if the universe has decided the guy with the maze won't be the hero, or the inventor, or the king, but the bull it was designed to trap--well. What's that say about him, exactly, in symbology?

"Maybe it's just in reference to the vaults," he says, trying to hype himself up. It falls a little flat. He takes a deep breath. He realizes he's still holding his razor, even after crossing his house to get the bunny ears. He goes to put the razor down and catches sight of his head in the mirror once again.

Monstrous. He's friends with a lot of monsters, of course; he's known Cleo for more than a decade. And his mannerisms, they're still him. But right then, in that moment...

He pokes the bunny ears.

"I am the Playboy Minotaur," he says, more insistently. "Didn't Iskall have that dress he had covered in flowers? That's what's really important here. That, and the obligatory cannibalism if I want to reach the level 100 goal in time, of course. The Minotaur clearly ate meat, despite being a cow, and ate people, despite being half person, but we really know nothing about what cow would do to my diet. Hold on, I have a very confusing message I can write Iskall about this one."

He deliberately turns away from the mirror and goes to write Iskall something that will explain nothing at all, and then tell Cub about their oversight. It's not like he can change it now.

[yumeka-sxf]

I can't believe we've reached the season finale! 😭 First off, the key visual for this episode is too adorable and is only reminding me how much I'm going to miss my favorite (fake) family! ❤️

While the early season episode where Bond and Twilight go on a mission together hints at how much compassion Twilight has for Bond, this episode really highlights what a softie he can be when he's around someone with whom he doesn't have to put on any acts.

Not only does he risk his life to go after Bond in the fire, but when he finds out that Bond went into the burning building to save another dog, he gives that soft, sincere smile that's only reserved for when one of his family members does something that truly touches him.

Rather than be annoyed with Bond for putting both their lives in danger, he's happy that he would risk his life to protect others...because that's what he does all the time! Plus, when he thinks Bond is acting out by "attacking" random people, instead of getting mad, he puts it upon himself to try and understand Bond better, the same as he does with Anya.

It's also really adorable how much Bond wants to please Loid. Is he learning from Anya?

This guy has to be one of the dumbest arsonist to stick around the building he just burned down with a hat that says "Fire" 😂

And of course, wet Bond and "trying not to laugh" Twilight are finally animated! Twilight is lucky that Yor and Anya weren't there to catch him snickering like that...the embarrassment may have killed him.

Then we get the pinnacle of how much Twilight cares for Bond when he tells him that he should think of himself as a family member first and guard dog second, plus how heartbroken "someone" would be if anything happened to him. And that sentiment is really a driving theme in the series, not just in this case with Bond, but for Twilight and Yor too. They're always putting the happiness of others before their own, without either knowing that the other is doing it.

I didn't think they would use this story as the season finale, since it only featured Twilight and Bond, and Franky a bit in the beginning. But they made it feel more like a finale by adding new scenes of the other characters! The scenes with Anya and Yor doing origami was cute - I love how Yor went too hard with the scissors 😅

And the ending where Anya gives both Twilight and Bond stellas was a great addition (though maybe a bit canon-altering since Anya in the manga hasn't seen soaked Bond up to this point).

The montage of all the other characters at the end was nice as well.

I laughed at Fiona's target practice 🤣

And the final scene with the Forgers having dinner was the perfect last shot~

No announcement for season 3 yet, but the episode does hint that there will be more! There's a SxF event in Japan in June 2024 where they could make such an announcement. I'm hoping season 3 won't start until 2025 in order to give the manga time for new content - as of the end of season 2, 67% of the manga has been adapted into the anime (according to my story guide spreadsheet), which is a lot. We'll see! But there will definitely be more SxF anime in the future, perhaps even another movie! So for now, only SxF Sundays twice a month will have to tide us over 😄

[kii-nami]

GILDED DREAMS | SUNDAY

You do not protest the clear display of authority over the most minuscule of details. Maybe you don’t even care for things like that, maybe you even take pity on him for that fact. Whatever it is in the end, Sunday doesn’t know. Neither does he ask. Birds are born to foolishly oppose the safety of captivity, but some will walk into the cage willingly. For they believe it to be temporary. Sunday’s gloves are stained with your divine blood. Your name will be written in the holy scriptures by his own hand soon enough.

cw: 6.5k words; part one of two; fem!mc; nameless!mc; i'm not a hsr lore scholar; sunday get behind me i have a glock and nothing to lose except you;

To survive is to suffer. And crippled birds neither fly nor sing. All they are truly good for is to live a life of captivity. The only way to keep them safe is to build them a cage strong enough to protect them from all known predators. A prison of comfort, peaceful enough for them to forget their broken wings and settle down, with only sickeningly sweet scent of heaven in the air. Idyllic enough for it to become a dream.

Thus, Sunday dreams of eternal paradise in which no bird will ever get its wings clipped. In his gilded dreams, humanity’s life is free of misery. There is no survival of the fittest, for there is no weakness. There is no uncertainty, for there is no future. There is no suffering, for there is only Order. Or so the Dreammaster says.

And Ena the Order dreams of a paradise for everyone but Sunday, as he is a necessary sacrifice for the greater good of peace. One must be crucified for the sake of humanity, and Sunday is more than willing to become a martyr if it means he will finally obtain a cage big enough to contain anything and everything that could threaten his family. Or so the Dreammaster says.

To live is to dream. And you, Sunday decides, dream of nothing. For if you were, you would not have been roaming the halls of this maze. Yet Ena the Order sees none of your trespassing, and Sundays dares not to disturb Them with the news of someone so easily escaping their handmade heaven. Yet the ravens won’t stop screeching, the voices continue chanting. You do not belong here, so Sunday has no other choice but to take you out himself. That is the right thing to do. Or so the Dreammaster says. That is what he wants.

“Be not afraid.”

Your hand stops midair. The ribbons of your intricate sleeves keep swaying gently as your fingers tremble a mere inch away from the marble surface of the statue you were admiring. Then you shudder, dropping your arm limply at your side and finally look at him.

“Fear is the soul killer.” You agree easily, the light tremor of your voice betraying you by giving that very fear away. “I’ve been wandering these halls for hours, however. It is natural for me to expect the worst, Mister Sunday.”

You know him yet he remembers you not. So it must be your first time in Penacony, otherwise Sunday would have surely remembered someone like you. Someone who is capable of evading Order’s omniscience. It matters not, however. For he will guide you back to paradise with his own hand.

“I shall show you the way, then.” Sunday offers you his hand in an exercise of faithless chivalry. The white fabric of his gloves is yet to be stained with blood or soiled with the touch of the passing visitors he is forced to exchange pleasantries with. But soon it will be. He doesn't want it to. “If I may.”

“I would be eternally grateful.” You smile. “My family must be worried sick about me.”

There is nothing but kindness behind your voice and the light reflecting of your eyes can blind a sinner if they look at you. Sunday knows better than to trust the emptiness of words and fool’s gold of flattery for he is throwing those around on the daily. So when your palm presses gently against his own, he leads you to your untimely demise with no hesitation and all the remorse one could have, leaving you none the wiser to his true intentions.

Sunday half-expects to be stabbed in the back with some sort of a mythical dagger bestowed upon you by an Aeon who opposes the harmonious Order he is conducting under Ena’s blessing. He's waiting for you to try and snap his other wing right off his back to make sure he isn't even capable of dreaming of the skies. Yet nothing of the sort ever happens. It's a little unnerving, unsettling in a way that makes Sunday feel the phantom pains of things long lost. He wants to accuse you of treachery yet cannot. He wishes to call you a master of deception yet cannot.

Like a saint, you seem to trust him to help you find your way back. Akin to a sinner, it is him who rules over the silver of his tongue and the steel of his word.

Sunday knows he should dispose of you in the waters of the dream pool like he intended to do. That is what the Dreammaster would have wanted. Anything that is a threat to Ena the Order is a threat to his gilded dreams. And those who threaten the cage will inevitably draw a weapon against Robin. Yet he sees no ill intent in your eyes. Just concern for your family who you supposedly burdened with worry of your disappearance. And as it gradually dissolves with each step he takes to the exit of reality, a conflict in him grows stronger.

Standing at the crossroads, Sunday knows nothing. So when the time comes for you to fall back into heaven, he is there to catch you with a promise of never meeting again.

Too bad he never asked for your name. How miserable it is you never thought yourself important enough to give it to him unprompted.

Even in dreams people like Sunday are not exempt from suffering. To suffer is to survive. That is just the price you must pay for being tied to reality like a Charmony dove that has been chained to a metal ball and released into the wilderness. And Sunday may be the head of the Oak Family on paper signed with a bloodstained feather plucked from his own wing, yet he despises dealing with people from the IPC. All precious stone in only name and nothing else, Aventurine is positively infuriating.

In more ways than one.

“One of Astral Express girls disappeared from her room last night.” His smirk is full of poorly hidden mischief and something else that Sunday simply doesn’t care about. He may crave control over all that is his, yet he wishes not to claim someone like Aventurine as one of his own. “How perfectly aligned with your sister’s unfortunate death…”

The muscles of his back are strained. To dominate over his own desires is just as important as it is to rule over every single aspect of the dream that is this life. The gilded dream of Ena the Order must continue, and Sunday will not be the one to sabotage it. To dream is to live.

Sunday taps the railing, “Are you accusing me of kidnapping now?”

Soothing tone and relaxed posture, Sunday will continue his reign over the dominion of Control no matter what he feels or wants. There is no other way. Crippled birds neither fly nor sing, nor do they grow their missing wings back. And even if some foolish being deems them fit enough to recover, takes pity on them and nurses them back to health, domesticated birds will only use those hollow, mended bones of theirs to plummet right back to the ground.

“Just stating my observations.” Aventurine laughs, a noisy little snicker that pierces Sunday’s ears like a nail on the chalkboard. Then he waves dismissively, the lackluster wiggle of his fingers as he turns around to leave. Good riddance, if only eternal. “Good luck. Her Foxian friend is very fond of fried chicken. Me too, now that I think about it…”

Sunday remains standing on the balcony for another hour. There is no rush. He knows who it was that vanished without a trace, and he knows where to find you. But he cannot control someone like Aventurine so Sunday dares not making any irrational decisions. Unlike Aventurine himself, Sunday isn’t fond of gambling. Uncertainty is at the roots of all evil.

He leaves and goes about his business. A sinner to confess their wrongdoings to him; a passerby to shake hands with, a Masked Fool to dampen already soiled mood; a Nameless to throw him a passing glance of suspicion; Robin’s shadow that should not be there for now. If the vermin – a truly formidable man all things considered, yet simply infuriating – is watching, he will see nothing but a busy head of the Oak Family. If Aventurine has better things to do than to follow Sunday’s footsteps in a feat of uncharacteristic obsession, at least Sunday finished all his work for the day and could finally take a shallow breath of momentary relief.

The halls of the maze are empty as they should be, yet Sunday didn’t expect to find anyone there in the first place. You remain in the dining room, rooted next to a marble statue, fingertips barely grazing the cool stone. The ribbons are swaying side to side and the white of your clothes is stained with pinks, blues and purples right in the middle of your back. The colors bleed out from there and drip down the dress onto your skin.

“Be not afraid.”

“Fear is the soul killer.” Your trembling fingers falter and when you turn to face him, there is way more of those pinks and blues all over your heaving chest all the way from your neck. Sunday knows not of what happened and he dares not to ask; his harmonic tuning failed once, and he will not be deceived anymore. “Are you here to escort me back to the dreamscape again, Mister Sunday?”

Sunday swears that if Ena could see you, They too would be just as terrified as he is at that moment. “I’m afraid I do not follow, Miss.”

“Then I shall pretend I said nothing.” You shrug, Sunday’s outstretched hand is hovering in the air for you to take. You do. With no hesitation and all the faith of a religious fanatic, you once more let him guide you out of the painful reality and into a dream as if you didn’t just admit to fully comprehending this fact. “Please be mindful that I will wake up no matter what. Your gilded dream rejects me.”

Sunday stops in his tracks. His crippled wing is pressing uncomfortably to his side, smoothed over bone digging into his skin as a reminder that he cannot ever fly even if he was delusional enough to try to. Every breath is a labor of well-practiced habit and an effort of greatest heights. You’re patiently waiting for him to gather his control back into his tightly clenched fist, the one that is always pulled behind his back to the broken wing he could never repair.

The colors are still bleeding all over your dress as your chest rises and falls in odd intervals. You may have the patience of a saint, yet your fears all eat you alive. Fear is the soul killer. Or so you say. To suffer is to survive. To dream is to live. How can you live if you can never dream?

You furrow your eyebrows. The harmonic tuning has failed yet again. This time without even clouding your mind enough to put you to sleep. Yet your jittering palm keeps trembling in his hold as you exhale lightly, trying to shake off the vibrations of his halo. A delicate cross dangling from your neckless is staring back at Sunday with resentment that he only saves for the person who shot Robin and the Cancer of All Worlds which took away their mother and the scissors which clipped his wings so Sunday would never dare to escape. Or maybe it’s just his reflection looking back at him from the golden glow of the cross.

In retrospect, you did nothing wrong. You don’t even try to hide anything from him, laying your knowledge bare for Sunday to interpret however he wishes to. A sinner that has confessed to their wrongdoings is ought to be forgiven in the eyes of any deity. Yet has this so-called sin been committed in the first place? If you allowed him to baptize you not once but twice, fully comprehending it meant abandoning any uncertain future you humans seem to crave so much.

What is right and what is wrong? What is a virtue and what is a sin? What is an Order and what is a Doubt? Sunday knows not. But he needs to collect all his control and pour it into a cup for you to savor one way or another. If not a sinner, you are a saint. Ena the Order sees you not, so you must have been imprisoned by someone else already. And it is Sunday’s duty to free all of mankind of the shackles of turmoil and lead them to paradise.

For he cannot let you leave yet he cannot bring himself to kill you. Sunday can talk in riddles and try to manipulate your emotions all he wishes, yet you seem to reject the vibrations of Order without even trying. So how does one contain something they cannot control? How does a devout believer tempt a messenger of a foreign god?

“I cannot let you go.” Sunday’s voice is a little hoarse, he is not used to telling the truth. It most often than not leads to suffering, yet something tells him you will see right through him if he does lie. Maybe he has much less control than he initially thought. “You know too much.”

“All is fair, Mister Sunday.” It is not a response a sane woman should give. “However, may I be so bold to ask for a clean dress?”

But saints are all-forgiving, and ordinary people are not meant to understand their reasoning. For there is none. At least not with you. No reason and a heart pinned to your sleeve, bleeding color all over your skin. Sunday needs to know your name so he can search high and low for the Aeon who crucified you for Their own selfish whims.

“I shall pick the best one there is.” Sunday nods.

You do not protest the clear display of authority over the most minuscule of details. Maybe you don’t even care for things like that, maybe you even take pity on him for that fact. Whatever it is in the end, Sunday doesn’t know. Neither does he ask. Birds are born to foolishly oppose the safety of captivity, but some will walk into the cage willingly. For they believe it to be temporary.

Sunday’s gloves are stained with your divine blood.

Your name will be written in the holy scriptures by his own hand soon enough.

The dress is beautiful. And so is the next. And the one after that. And all the others that follow.

Ribbons and feathers. Intricate lace and weightless silks. Gold and diamonds. All never worn even once and kept neatly in the wardrobe of your bedroom. If your disapproving sigh is anything to go by, you don’t appreciate the excessive luxury, yet accept them just to hide them in your closet and put on the simplest of garments that he brought to you the day you entered the mansion.

Sunday cannot understand you, but differences are included in the natural Order of things. Reality is a lonely prison of misery, and Sunday returns there for he has no other place to belong to. Yet you seem to enjoy it as a long-awaited vacation. Way more than your family does it back in Penacony’s gilded dream.

Sunday doesn’t think your behavior is reasonable, yet he questions you not. You won’t give him the answer he is seeking, anyway. Your heart may be out there in the open, yet the pages of your thoughts are written with invisible ink and no amount of heat can paint them with life.

You have a habit of refusing things you deem unnecessary or excessive, your friendly exposition never wavering even under pressure of almost constant loneliness. Some days Sunday wonders what would happen if he doesn’t return here after all his tasks for the day are done, when Aventurine with his Nameless Foxian companion and her other nosy friends don’t breathe down his neck with accusatory air. He does not entertain such foolish thoughts; they would break his carefully crafted routine and Sunday is a being of habit. For habit is Order.

And so, against his better judgment of clipped feathers, Sunday returns. To your palace of a bedroom, with three light knocks and a little apology for intrusion. You are rarely there, so he is forced to look for you just as he is searching for the Aeon responsible for your fate. And when he does find you, all Order crumbles.

To live is to suffer. Your suffering is intricately woven into your every breath.

On Mondays you prepare a special dinner. It’s just you and him and a lonely candle on a little table on your balcony. The stars are dripping the color of your blood, the wine in your glass is untouched and you never eat more than could fit in a teacup. A life of such modesty is far too unfamiliar for the bird who was brought up in a cage of golden bars and silver spoons, yet Sunday doesn’t mind. He’s got other, more important things to worry about. For if the Dreammaster finds out about you, he will wish to dispose of you. And Sunday may have already sinned for the betterment of humanity, yet he isn’t sure if he is capable of turning saints into martyrs just yet.

“Won’t it be easier to just kill me?” You constantly disarm him with your questions. Some days Sunday isn’t quick enough to even imagine drawing a weapon to protect his mingled self.

“No.” Sunday answers a bit too quickly for his liking. “I mean you no harm, Miss [Name].”

On Tuesdays you clean. The mansion is spotless for it is empty, and there is nothing, but a thin coat of dust gathered around on the bookshelves of his study. You busy yourself with it even if you are told not to bother with such things. Sunday wishes to treat you as a guest despite the circumstances. All people were born equal and pretending that you are anything less than he is would going against what he stands for. His gilded dreams are not built on bigotry or injustice, only harmonious Order of happiness.

Your presence in the room is that of a dove on a branch behind a glass dome. All hollow bones and disarray of feathers, Sunday cannot ignore you even if it is what the Order would have wanted. Yet what the Order cannot see, that is all for Sunday to keep for himself; to hide under his pillow so it won’t ever be taken away from him by any collapsing dreams.

“Do you think me a madman?” He asks.

You laugh and shake your head in amused disagreement. Sunday wishes he could steal your laughter straight from your vocal cords to fill in the holes in his wings with it. He cannot. Yet would you let him if he asked with the utmost honesty? Only time will tell.

You are a willing participant of all and any conversations, despite allowing him to talk most of the time. You listen and ask questions, give your own opinion in bite size pieces that never overshadow his voice. His dreams are grand, and his plans are fragile, yet for all that is worth you take him seriously. A noble man with a heart which bleeds for everyone but himself, you call him. A kind person with good intentions which will pave his downfall for him, you say easily. A caring brother, who will always put his family first even if it is bound to strain the thin red thread that connects them to each other, you smile wistfully.

“A flightless bird which longs for the sky. That is what you are to me, Mister Sunday.”

His soul aches. All bruised and mattered. Sunday would rather you simply called him mad.

On Wednesdays you tend to the garden. Flowers are blooming here no matter the season. Even in reality Penacony is still a dream, albeit not dusted with a thin layer of gold and illusions. You move around the sea of color like a ghost, the white of your dress stained with soil and a twinge of misery.

You don’t think Sunday is mad and you understand his dream of peace, yet you never condone his drastic approach to things. The dreams in which you hold happiness in the palms of your hands simply do not exist. That is what you say to him, picking two stray peonies from the bush and handing one of them to him with the tenderness of a torn-up heart. The other gets its petals plucked one by one with a gentle touch of your fingers, and the pain of the missing parts of him grows with each one getting lost in the green of the grass underneath your feet.

No wishes ever come true in a gilded cage so people will always seek reality, no matter how painful it may be. Sunday thinks his wishes can only ever be fulfilled by a dream in which nobody will suffer anymore. There is simply no such a thing that cannot be obtained by a paradise he wishes to create for everyone with Ena’s holy rule. And you – the misguided messenger of a foreign god, a martyr for a cause which you don’t stand for – you also deserve your wishes granted to you. For everyone is born equal.

“What do you dream of, Miss [Name]?” Sunday wonders, watching you longingly collect every single petal from the grass, mend them together with the hues of pinks and purples and then tear the peony back into pieces.

“I dream of living.”

You look up at him with misty eyes, clouded with yearning and unshed tears. The colors float around your head like a halo. Maybe one of these days Sunday will finally find an answer in those scattered petals.

Thursdays you watch the stars. Time flies as the stars keep shooting from the sky like fallen angels, and you simply observe as they crash and burn. Your fingers twitch as if you wish to catch all of them, yet you ask for nothing.

Sunday comes, his back hunched by the growing weight of endless responsibilities and troubles. Yet when he leaves with his shoulders less tense and buzzing static in his chest, to return to his life of sacrifice that is necessary for the good of all mankind, he never forgets to ask what you wish for. Silence is the only answer Sunday receives, and the gentle sway of the ribbons in a summer breeze tells him he will regret ever asking this question when you finally deem it appropriate to indulge him.

The stars glow bright when you’re out here in the garden. Caged birds keep singing their woeful tunes. Thread and needle in your hands, you’re mending the hem of your dress, still refusing to wear any of those more extravagant ones. Your nightgown is not made for the outside and you shiver. The night isn’t getting any warmer, yet you ask for nothing. To live is to suffer, yet what is life if you only ever knew of torment.

A jacket he places on your shoulders does little, and whatever selfish wishes Sunday has must be drowned in the sea of shooting stars. For they will not be accepted. There is no place for them in this reality in which he lays his mortal body on a stone and holds the nails which he will get crucified with in his own two hands. Yet if the Dreammaster were here, he would have shared Sunday’s vision of the gilded dream that he is bending and breaking to his will just to make enough space in it for you as well. A paradise in which you stay here by his side forever as the messenger for him and no one else.

“I wish for nothing, Mister Sunday.”

Sunday knows it to be a lie. You whisper your true wish with the last breath you take before falling into restless, golden slumber. He will break this world in half to grant it to you, even if it calls for eternity of loneliness. A twitch of a broken wing, you’re almost weightless in his arms. Sunday does not understand why just yet. But he will.

On Fridays you play the violin. For once it’s his fingers that are stained with color. Sunday is staring at the canvas, hues and tones blending together with shadows and highlights to create a heavenly image of absolute divinity. He thinks it belongs to a chapel right where he gets down on his knees to confess his wrongdoings and pray for forgiveness, yet Sunday knows even existence of such a thought in and of itself is a mortal sin.

The melody is full of sorrow and the birds which you released from the cages are all perched on the pews of the chapel where you put them. They cannot fly, so they cannot escape and meet their end in horrifying loneliness. For now, you are here to catch them if they were to fall, so they can only sing along to the miserable tune of a violin in your hands.

“To live is to suffer. We must make peace with this suffering.” You put the instrument back in its case and lock all the birds back in their respective cages.

They do not resist, so Sunday is convinced you are implying that they’ve made peace with their suffering just like the two of you accepted yours. Yet when Sunday washes the pinks and purples of his fingers, he cannot help but think you are wrong. To live is to dream. And to dream is to slumber in eternal paradise, where no suffering can ever touch you.

The portrait he’s made of you will never do your beauty justice, but no icon could ever depict the true holiness of a saint. He will succeed eventually. You will have all the time in the world in his eternal paradise.

On Saturdays you dance. In a world less cruel, the one Sunday will create in the name of Ena, Robin is there to support your performance with the soothing voice of a Charmony dove. She is not, for you and him are stuck in miserable world where no wishes ever come true.

You would have been one of Penacony’s brightest stars, if only you weren’t chained to reality by those who do not deserve you. A twirl, the wind picks up your ribbons as you move gracefully to the melody of a tearful piano. And in a moment of fleeting weakness, Sunday asks about your shackles. And with a sway of your swan song, you share the tale of Istanai the Repudiation.

The Aeon who claimed you at birth and refused to let go even after They forsook your people, and you abandoned Their rusted prison. They are still following you around even after all those years even if They don’t want you. They make no sense for They reject all of it, along with anything else that They have ever touched. Even Their own children, the natural Order of things, any wishes or dreams; They abdicate everything and nothing, for that is the Path that They oversee. It is the Path you were born into and that is also the Path that you abandoned to pursue eternal Trailblaze.

“To live is to suffer. For you can keep nothing. Cannot wish to hold anything.” And then you admit, heat radiating off you in waves, “And I am only useful to this world for as long as I keep Their gaze on me.”

Sunday thinks you are wrong. Yet then the clock strikes midnight, and it marks the Seventh day. And on Sundays, you weep.

With your knees on the cold floor and hands pressed close to your heart, you keep praying in a tongue he cannot comprehend. The words fall from your lips hastily and desperately, as you beg for forgiveness in a language he does not know. Yet the things that Sunday does understand, all relate to the Aeon who stole your will and clipped your wings, chaining you to reality where the weak only get weaker and the strong keep getting stronger.

That is not the Path one should walk on, the loneliness of martyrdom for someone else’s sake is not a burden that should be bestowed upon someone but instead a choice one makes willingly. And you chose not your fate, yet suffer the consequences, nonetheless.

Maybe, Sunday muses kneeling next to you for a prayer. Maybe something simple like a dream is not enough. If They refuse to let you go yet condemn you for keeping them, Sunday can create something bigger than a gilded dream of illusion. Maybe a real paradise will be just enough to steal you away to a life that is worth living.

Your hand gently wipes a tear away from his cheek before it can fall and stain the floor of the chapel. It lingers on your fingers with deep red. One glove, then another. You are as warm as he imagined in the dreams he cannot keep, for he is the lamb of Ena and he is ready to be slaughtered if it means people like you – or Robin, or their dear mother – won’t ever cry anymore. The skin of your palm is smooth against his lips. It’s all Sunday can ever allow himself to have, and that is all that he will ever keep.

“You must leave tomorrow, Miss [Name].” He says, hands grasping your own.

A tear falls. This time it feels like you are weeping for him and him alone.

Maybe being a messenger of the Order is not the end for harmony of happiness, and somewhere in the realm of gods there is a spot for his own ideals as well. The Dreammaker may not understand or approve, yet when Sunday ascends to greatness of true holiness, on his first day he will free you from suffering. And on the seventh, there will be nothing but peace. For his gaze will never abandon you.

Sunday can promise on his blood on your hands.

And as it always is, crippled birds neither fly nor sing. They fall. Shooting stars and collapsing dreams, all Order has been forsaken as gravity pulls Sunday closer to his inevitable demise. His flesh and blood clings to him like the ideals he cannot ever atone for, yet in his noble pursuit of eternal happiness a sliver of selfish desire for comfort remains. So he lets Robin linger yet dares not to soil the purity of her embrace with the dullness of his touch.

A cage will always rust and corrode with time, falling apart at the seams. Gilded dreams are not meant to last forever. Nothing is truly eternal except for humanity’s striving to move forward into that useless future full of self-inflicted misery.

Robin’s breathless voice mutters something that is instantly lost in the wind and she pulls him closer. If Sunday were a better brother, a better man, a better person, he would have stopped all galaxies and frozen this moment just to let his sister descend this condensed and polluted air of his crumbling paradise like a stairway to heaven. He isn’t any of those things. So, he doesn’t even try. No miracle will happen if he does. A bird missing its wing will never catch flight right before hitting the ground.

And Sunday is nothing more than a crippled Charmony dove – a dying raven, truly – destined to roam the cage of his gilded dreams forever, for stepping outside signifies the end of Order and the beginning of Suffering. And he isn’t ready to die yet. He wasn’t ready.

To live is to suffer. To dream is to survive. With no cages and no birds in sight, Sunday accepts the inevitable.

“It is in human nature to reject usurpers, Mister Sunday.” Weightlessness of your voice envelopes all in bright light of heavenly warmth.

A feather. A ribbon. A silken touch of divinity confined in a painfully human vessel. If Sunday didn’t know any better, he would have thought he met face to face with some foreign man’s Goddess. Sunday knows better, however. So he closes his eyes and lets Istanai the Repudiation touch him. There are no rules he wouldn’t break to ensure Robin’s survival. And yet…

“I told you to leave.” Sunday is not used to repeating himself twice. His fingers tremble as he watches Robin take your hand and walk down the ladder he thought to be impossible.

“And as a human that I am, I rejected your order.” You smile. The light in your eyes is made of purest of diamonds and it keeps burning with holy fire. Sunday was foolish to think you would listen to reason and not your bleeding heart. “It seems we don’t have much time, so let me heal your wounds as I celebrate that my naïve soul has won for once.”

Robin, as all free-spirited birds are, is a creature of curiosity. She tilts her head and finds comfort on one of the floating ribbons, swaying on it like a swing. There’s a little ruffle to the feathers of her wings, yet she minds it not, opting to watch the two of you instead. Your eyes may be glowing, yet the sturdiness of your will is starting to wear off. Sunday isn’t sure whether it’s his silence that is making you doubt your decisions, Robin’s dedicated stare or your own thinning convictions. His guess is as good as any, but the most logical answer will always be him.

Your forced companionship has come to its inevitable end. Yet just like the day you two met, Sunday is at the crossroads yet again.

“Robin first.”

There are no protests, just gentle swaying of ribbons, a warm glow of pale pinks and purples, and Robin’s hushed voice humming a tune. She looks livelier, well rested, the shadows under her eyes dissolve under the shimmer of divine rejection. Your hands are hovering over hers, almost grazing the skin yet never daring touching it. As if you too, thought yourself undeserving. It made no sense, yet Sunday had no right to question the natural Order of things. Istanai the Repudiation refused to give Their children up, even if They abandoned them first in pursuit of eternal rejection.

A song stops. A couple of grateful words fall from Robin’s rosy lips. You nod politely, a smile returning to your face with a bit more brightness. You offer him a place to sit, a fleeting glance cast over your shoulder. Sunday has half a mind to follow in your footsteps and refuse, yet he does not. He is tired, wasted efforts and unyielding dreams quivering under the weight of reality, all he truly wishes for is to collapse for good. With his missing wing and shuttered principles. How long has it been since he took a proper breath?

Sunday takes a seat. Like a holy dove that you are, you hover near him from your own heavenly branch. Never touching and always lingering, yet the heat of your skin burns him just like divine flame would scorch a sinner. The light under your fingertips rejects his wounds and exiles his exhaustion, it bends his will and breaks his bones. And if letting go or Order meant keeping you by his side for the rest of his life – however long it may be – then Sunday wouldn’t mind a life of sin of a different kind. And if you were to cross this distance and touch him, he would ask you to stay. Yet you don’t.

To live is to survive. To dream is to suffer. Your mind is somewhere far away, and the ache of his bones makes Sunday feel like he is being reborn. From a dying raven to a Charmony dove with all his wings intact, capable of flying on his own.

“So it is true that your kind cannot be manipulated.”

You shiver. Sunday’s back is throbbing. There’s not a person here but a cat. Cursing you with a heavy gaze of his eyes.

“It’s not nice to sneak up on people like that, Mister Elio.” You chastise him gently, pulling away from Sunday and taking all your holiness away. It is only the sheer power of self-control that allows him to not reach out to tug you back into him so your sunlight can burn him alive. Such earthly desires matter not if you two are soon to separate and never meet again.

The cat – Elio – huffs, unamused by your demeanor. You pay it no mind, your ribbons dissolve into thin air until only two remain. Neither do you answer Elio’s question. Simply gather your holy blood with your own two hands and let it all spill yet again through the stigmata on your palms.

“May heavens be kind enough to let our paths to cross again, Mister Sunday.”

His bones keep aching. The restless feathers of his wings flutter even if he wills them to stop. He can surrender his halo to you and despite it being all that is truly his to own in this life, it would never be enough. Deities require giving up all mortal possessions before devoted worship could be possible and what else can he offer to you if not himself?

Sunday has no time to ponder that question. He doesn’t even have the time to say goodbye to you properly. As gilded dreams are not meant to last forever, and this one too is taken away from him by something he cannot control.

“[Name]!” Himeko seems inhumanly comforted to see you safe, pulling you in a tight hug. And considering she wholeheartedly supported the young Foxian woman threatening to pluck his wings naked for taking you hostage, it is only logical for her to do so.

A brooding man – Dan Heng, if Sunday’s memory doesn’t fail him – stands awkwardly a little behind the two of you, while the aforementioned Foxian lady and her eccentric pink haired friend share a collective sigh of relief. You hesitantly pull away and take a hurried step forward, ushering them away before they can notice anything – anyone – else. You are far too kind for your own good and someone ought to exploit it eventually. At least it won’t be someone like him. It is far out of reach of Sunday’s capabilities to shackle a bird born of paradise.

The cat laughs. Sunday hates cats. You cannot cage them, yet they can snap your wings even if you are perfectly fit to fly on your own.

And so, the cat does.

Sunday’s bones are still aching even when he shakes hands with Kafka. Such is the nature of growing pains. A lot of misery is in Order.

[skzthoughs]

A - Z with stray kids

Paring: Chan × female!reader

Warnings: smut, switch!chan, switch!reader, pussy eating, masturbation, semi-public sex, breeding, somnophilia (with consent), blowjob, cum-eating, sub/dom dynamics, praising, face sitting, cockwarming... etc.

chan ver. | minho ver. | changbin ver. | hyunjin ver. | jisung ver. | felix ver. | seungmin ver. | jeongin ver.

A: aftercare (how are they like after sex?)

chan is the sweetest and most caring person I've ever met. he would always ask if you're okay, if you need something or so. he would also help you clean all the mess you both made and your body.

once you both are comfy on bed, he'll hug you, kiss your face, keep you close to him, tell you how much he loves and appreciates you. he would do anything to make sure you feel loved.

then he'll stay awake until you fall asleep, give you one last kiss before falling asleep as well.

B: body part (their favorite body part of theirs and their partner's)

chan's favorite part of your body is your ass and waist. period.

it doesn't matter the size of your ass but this man would be spanking it every single time he's able to. it doesn't matter if you're in a public place or in front of everyone. he wouldn't mind but just give your ass a slap when you're distracted, giggling playfully at your reaction.

when you're having sex, his hands won't stay way from it. he would grab it, squeeze it and touch it as much as he wishes. he absolutely loves to see how your skin gets red and his handprint on both ass cheeks.

grabbing your waist is just a habit of his. he likes to give you warm hugs, wrapping his arms around your waist, pull you close to him, show other people how possessive and protective he's over you.

during sex he loves to guide your movements by grabbing your waist. if you both are on missionary, he'd hold you to keep your still. if you're riding him, he'd guide your hips and the pace of your bounces. if you're in doggy position, he'd pull you back for deeper thrusts.

chan's favorite body part of himself are his hands.

before you both got into a relationship, he didn't like his hands at all but once you told him that you love how they looked when he's working out or while he's producing music, or literally while doing nothing.

you told him that you loved how veiny his hands and arms were that even turned you up. gosh. he found a new weakness of yours.

and the way you moan his name thanks to one or two of his fingers are inside your wet little pussy? he could be hearing that sweet voice and would be grateful. he knows that his hands feels way better than your own.

C: cum (anything to do with cum)

is not a secret that he loves pineapple juice... tasty...

one day he read somewhere that eating pineapple or drinking pineapple juice could make his cum taste sweeter so he wanted to give it a try.

the next time, he'd randomly ask you to give him a blowjob, wanting to see your reaction and if something has changed.

he cummed twice, and yet you kept sucking him off like his dick was a lollypop...

and where he likes to cum? i really think this man has a breeding kink. he really loves to empty himself inside your warm cunt, of course if you let him. he'd admire how his liquid drips down your hole once he pulled out.

if not, he would spill his cum over your ass or thighs, then help your clean up or prepare a warm bath.

D: dirty secret (dirty secret of theirs)

chan is the dominant most of the time. he loves to have the control. he loves to have control over you. he absolutely adores when he can toss you around and fuck you senseless but...

he'd love you to use him.

once, he came back home very tired and you had waited the entire day for chan to come back. since you're his princess, he couldn't say no to your neediness.

he had told you that he was tired. that wasn't an inconvenient.

and there he was. sitting down on the bed, resting his back against the headboard, doing absolutely nothing but moaning and whimpering your name while you ride his cock.

your hips moved so deliciously on his lap. that he didn't last that much as he always do. yet he was still asking you to keep going.

that night, he loved to be used just as a personal dildo for you.

E: experience (how experienced are they?)

chan isn't an expert. he has to admit that you weren't his first time but of course, there's still a bunch of stuff to learn about and he decided to learn and explore much further with you.

at the beginning, he knew the basic stuff. some of his friends had told him some "tips" to improve when it comes to sex.

since you both started dating, you both discovered new kinks, things he's into and turns up that he never imagined he'd be. also discovered what turns him off and his own boundaries.

F: favorite position

when chan is taking all the control, he loves when he's able to see your face, the expressions you make while he's buried deep inside you and making you feel pleasure. he also loves to touch you, kiss you, look into your eyes while he's telling you dirty things, see his effect on your body, so missionary is the best option.

and as I've said before, chan adores your ass. so i think that one of his favorite positions are doggy. he has the perfect sight of your ass and how it bounces at each thrust.

but when chan is feeling not too dominant... having you bouncing on his lap is perfect. this position could also work when he's taking the control, turning tables so suddenly and quick since he could just grab your hips, making you stay still and just thrust up into you.

G: goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

i think that when chan is into vanilla sex, he would make unintentional funny moments but you both just laugh a bit and then come back to action. but then he would try to keep the moment very romantic and special, taking his time with you.

H: hair (how well groomed are they?)

I could see a very well shaved chan, or just trimmed. i mean- have you seen chan's armpits? that shit is clean as fu-

chan thinks that is more hygienic to keep it both, or trimmed or well shaved, also does it for you since he thinks that too much hair down there during sex could bother.

and about you? he doesn't really cares.

if you like to shave? he would even help you. if you like it trimmed? great. if you don't like to do any of those stuff? he's completely fine!!

just as long as you are hygienic and healthy.

I: intimacy (how are they during sex? the romantic aspect)

as I've said before, those moments are really intimate for him. there's a balance between vanilla and rough sex but even when he's rougher, he's always finding ways to take care of you or demonstrate his affection towards you.

he loves to worship your body so much. he adores to praise you and tell you how beautiful you are between hard thrust and moans.

there's a lot of kissing. everywhere.

one of his ways of showing you his love is by leaving marks like hickeys, bites, etc.

J: jack off (masturbation headcanon)

we all know that this man's life is very busy but he also has his needs like a normal human being.

i think that he jerks off, not that often but a decent amount of times once in a while.

he would be on a tour, not having you near to fix his problem. maybe because he started thinking about you. he would have no other choice but his hand to fix that boner inside his pants.

or maybe you were too tired, chan didn't want to bother you and just got inside the bathroom, bitting the gem on his shirt to quiet himself during the night, his hand taking care of his problem.

or in the studio. he doesn't have enough time to call you so he just jerks off quickly.

K: kinks

Breeding kink: the warm and wet feeling of you pussy just drives him crazy. also that sight of his cum dripping out. he would put his cock back inside just to keep you full or put the cum back inside with his fingers.

Daddy/ Sir kink: you sometimes called him "daddy" or "Sir" as a joke. but once you two were having sex, you called him like that just to tease him. and oh god. that man turned into a beast. calling him "Christopher" also works ;). it just reminds him that he has control over you.

Somnophilia: he feels guilty about having this kink. but how he would love you to wake him up with his dick stuffed in your mouth. or to wake you up with his head buried between your thighs. or even better. how about he combines two of his fantasies? waking him up by riding his dick. sometimes he sees your sleeping figure and just wants to pull your panties apart and pound into you slowly. with consent ofc.

Orgasm control: have i told you that he loves the control he has over you right? yeah. just the thought of edging, overstimulate you, denying your orgasm turns him up. having you begging, whimpering and whining, asking him if it's okay to cum just yet.

L: location (favorite places to do it)

as he wants the moment to be the most intimate and romantic possible. the bedroom.

it's the most comfortable place where you both could do it. you both have privacy, and the most important, aftercare!!

but there's also times where you both can't help it but get into the horny mood when he's in the studio, or in the car during a long trip.

also, it's arousing the idea of being caught. chan would be proud. the person who saw you now knows that you're only his.

M: motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I'd say that hearing you moaning and enjoying the pleasure he's giving you.

he always likes to hear you. he loves you to be loud. he doesn't cares who could hear you but he needs to know that you are also enjoying the moment as he is.

if you're somewhere where there's people around and you can't be as loud as he would like, he's completely fine with hearing your little whines and whimpers. he melts everytime you moan close to his ear.

he also shows you that he's enjoying the moment. he would burry his face into your neck, letting out groans and soft moans. kissing you and letting out more sinful sounds against your lips.

N: no (something they wouldn't do, turn-offs)

I don't see him doing something that makes you feel insecure and uncomfortable. As much as it turns him on but you don't like it, then we won't do it. he loves you and respects your boundaries.

stuff like knife play, cnc, scat, forcing you to do things is a completely NO

consent is a must!!

O: oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

of course he loves to eat you out. he likes the feeling of getting all messy and sloppy down there. his own saliva and your wetness dripping down his chin. the feeling of the swollen lips for being too long licking and licking your cunt.

he loves the flavor. he loves the smell, he loves being trapped between your thighs. he loves feeling your hand pulling the back of his hair and your fingers tangled on it as well. he definitely loves when you push your hips up, almost rubbing all of your pussy against his face.

you sitting on his face? he'll make sure to leave you with your legs shaking, cummed at least three times in a row and throat hurting from moaning that much and too tired to even stand up.

also, he wouldn't mind the pretty sight of your pink lips around his cock. he loves everytime he gets to make a ponytail with his hand and just guide your head up and down his dick. the sloppiest, the better.

he loves to slap his tip over your thick lips, cum all over them and watch you use your tongue to lick him clean and milk him. then he loves to grab your jaw to kiss you and taste himself.

P: pace (are they fact and rough? slow and sensual? etc)

i really think this is depending on the mood. as I said before, he likes to have sweet moments and goes for vanilla sex where he tries to keep the pace slow and normal, sensual. liking to roll his hips and keeping his touch very soft.

most of the time during vanilla, is praising. always reminding you how much the adores you. also he'd be trying to face you, kiss you, looking into your eyes with so much love and caring.

you love when he just puts his forehead against yours and pounds into you, deep but slow. saying lots of loving praises between the thrusts.

but, when it's rough sex, that sweet boy turns into a lustful man where he pounds hard, deep and switches the pace. he could start slow, then increases the pace, going fasts, the skin slapping could be heard and end up with a slow pace once again just to tease you.

Q; quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc)

chan would have quickies if he really needs it. i think like twice or once a week. i see him bending you down on the desk of his studio those times he can't really focus and need some distraction to keep working on his music.

it wouldn't be that often since he rathers to take his time with you and have aftercare. cuddle with you for hours and need you to take care of him as well.

aftercare is also a must for him!! he doesn't wants you to feel used or unwanted once you're done.

R: risk (are they game to experiment? do the take risks? etc)

the risks chan would take is having sex in the studio or maybe not just sex but having you on his lap while working but with his cock deep inside you. maybe he'd ask you to wear a skirt with no underwear for easier access.

maybe some teasing in public. him provoking you under the table or viceversa. maybe touching you under a table, acting like nothing is happening but fighting to held your moans back.

other than that, i don't think chan would do because as he's a public figure, he'd be afraid of your safety and he doesn't want that.

S: stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

chan seems to have a good stamina. i think he would go through at least three rounds but could keep going if you ask for it. if so, he would take a little break between the rounds to make sure you're okay and to let you calm down from the orgasm. he would like to have some make out sessions, touch you, kiss your body, not just simple sex.

chan also puts your pleasure before his own so he would make you cum first. he loves you to became undone under his touch, seeing your face once you've came but then suddenly feel him empty himself in you.

or maybe he would try to reach his high at the same time, both of you just breathing heavily and keeping your body close to his while trying to realize what just happened.

T: toys (do they own toys? do you use them? on a partner or themselves?)

as chan is a busy man, he won't be 24/7 free for you. he wishes he could but sadly, that's not possible. that's why he considered to buy some toys for you.

maybe some dildo, or vibrator.

the first time he was looking for a dildo, he saw a bunch of sizes, colors, forms... he opted to get a clear one, about 5-6 inches, with a sucker cup on the base.

at first he was a bit jealous from that dildo. what if that piece of plastic pleases you more than him? what if then you prefer that dildo instead of him?

all those thoughts were pushed away once he found you fucking yourself with it while moaning chan's name so loud. he just stayed at the door frame, silent and admiring you, with a visible boner inside his boxers.

he'd make you ride that dildo, fuck yourself with it or maybe suck on it while he watches. his mind full of unholy scenarios and you in all of them. his hard cock in hand, pumping it slowly but steady at the beautiful sight of yours.

U: unfair (how much they like to tease)

this guy A D O R E S teasing you.

when you're making out. just kissing. not more. he'd touch your weak spots. he'd place his hands on your thighs, slowly going upwards to your inner thighs and squeeze them. he would slowly kiss down your jaw and neck, sucking on your skin and make hickeys everywhere, licking them after.

he would continue down your chest, pulling whatever you're wearing to give himself better access to make more marks. if you're not wearing any bra, we would lick, bite and pull your nipples over your shirt, looking up at you innocently but you know well that he's not.

then, out of nowhere, he'd stop. leaving you so needy for more.

but if you try to do the same, he can't handle it at all.

V: volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc)

chan is LOUD. not just while you're doing it but when he's too concentrated in something, he would randomly do some suspicious sounds.

as I said before, he loves to hear how good he's making you feel and he does the same. he likes you to know how good you're making him feel.

he would moan softly at first but as the moment keeps going, his volume would increase. this man would curse so hot. also some mumbles of how good you feel around his cock and how you're taking him so well.

"fuck, you're so tight", "yes, just like that baby", "you like how i stretch your out, hm?", "my baby is taking me so fuckin' well"

W: wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

chan has a perfect body. i mean... those well defined abs, those thighs, those arms...

yeah he's not very confident about his own body but he knows very well how weak you are when your see his naked self. and he'd use that to his advantage.

whenever he's horny and needs you, he'd take some quick photo. it could be him while working out, a mirror photo where he lifts his shirt, showing those sweaty abs.

maybe another photo where he shows his veiny hands, his boner inside his boxers.

maybe he'd take a video, talking dirty to you, telling you the ways he'd fuck you and please you if you were there with him, his hand inside his hands, probably jerking himself but not showing it since he wants to tease you...

X: x-ray (let's see whats going on under those clothes)

listen. i think this man's cock is pretty.

his skin is very pale so i think that the tip of his dick is pink-ish, some veins popping out here and there and maybe he's slightly curved to the side or upwads.

he's t h i c k. i think his size is a bit over the average, like between 6-7 inches long but the thickness of his cock makes you see stars. he makes you feel so full. and that slight curve he has, helps him to reach those sweet spots inside you easier.

Y: yearning (sex drive)

i think chan has a high sex drive. he's often waking up with a morning wood. also getting hard while working. getting hard with any slightly touch from you. even sometimes he gets hard just by seeing you walking around the house with his shirt and just a pair of underwear.

sometimes he really hates himself for getting horny so easily but that's something he has to deal with but you're his weakness. he would try to control himself by thinking on another stuff to distract himself or getting a cold shower.

Z: zzz (how quickly do they fall asleep afterward?)

as I've said before, chan is so caring and he's always worried about you. as tired as he would be, he'd always try to stay awake until you're asleep.

also, i think that he would love to admire you're sleeping figure, looking at you with so much adoration and love, protecting you as you were the most precious thing on earth, but you are, at least for him.

he'd whisper sweet things close to your ear and leave little but soft kisses all over your face.

once you're sleeping, he'd run his hand through your hair, scratch your back gently, he'd even sing a song for you, hum some melody... then he'd let himself drain into sleep without realizing.

AN: hello! i hope you enjoy this and I'm thinking on doing this with all skz members but please let me know which one i should do next!

my request and asks are always open unless i say so! but for now, they're open!!

happy new year!! <3