#<- does that even apply here? it's been a week

[a-b-riddle]

Part Six

Can't stop thinking about reader finally giving the boys a taste of their own medicine. And hurting my own feelings in the process of it all. I wanted to make this a baddie reader chapter, but its just a saddie reader chapter. I played Down Bad by T.S on repeat while writing this. Y'all need to thank @blueladys-world for being my ventor for this part.

None of them came the next day to pick up the box of everything you had collected. By everything, quite literally everything. Birthday cards and gifts. Keepsakes from your time together they had given you. Even going as far as returning lingerie they had given you. You didn't want any trace of them in your home anymore. You were gonna have to work hard in rebuilding it to be your safe space once again.

You were surprised that someone from the expo had DM'd you. Renée was an author who had tried to stop by to your stand, but got too caught up in the day. She was in London, working on her next series installment and wanted to pick your brain. Writer to writer.

The two of you agreed on a time. She had mentioned wanting to try this restaurant the last time she visited and you already knew you would be putting that meal on a credit card. It was a bit of splurge, but after the past week you deserved it. You could even wear that sexy black number that had been collecting dust in your closet.

By the time you were done getting ready and squeezing into your dress, you looked more ready for a date than dinner with a colleague.

A colleague. You had a colleague!!!

The knock on the door pulled you from your girlish glee. You didn't need to guess who it was. Your friends knew to text you before they came over and Renée had agreed just to meet you at the restaurant.

It was one of them.

You didn't even t bother looking through your peephole before you opened the door to find Johnny standing there with a floral arrangement of your favorite flowers.

Johnny began to speak, afraid you were going to shut him down immediately no less. But no words came out. His eyes traveled up and down your body, taking you in.

A vision.

You wanted to snap at him that your eyes weren't located on your hips. But damn if it didn’t feel empowering seeing Johnny’s gaze gloss over.

"Fuck me." He swore, gathering his bearings before realizing you were dressed. In a sexy black dress and heels and makeup and oh, fuck you were going out. "Where are you going?"

"First off, none of your business," you said holding a finger up. "And secondly, what are you doing here?"

"Listen," "Bon-"

"The box is right there." You said pointing to a large cardboard box on the floor. "That's everything."

"If you just let me make it-"

"Up to me?" You cut him off again. "I'm over it. Really."

"Just give me a chance."

"Either you haven't spoken to the other two to know I am well and truly done with this situationship, or you’re hoping some half-ass apology and flowers will let you get a last fuck in and the skedaddle. So hopefully if it was latter, hopefully the former answered that for ya.”

So if that's all you came here for, I've got to get going. My reservation is at seven and it's rude to keep a friend waiting."

"It's been a week and you're already going on a date?" He accused.

"Who said anything about a date?" You didn't outright say it wasn't. Where would be the fun in that? “It's just dinner with a colleague.” You didn’t want to lie. It wasn’t a date. But you didn’t need to say it was a woman. “Hardly a date.”

“Look at the sight of ye!" He said, taking the opportunity to take a quick look at how deliciously your ass filled that dress. “A fookin’ dinner with a colleague. Like one of us would show up to a briefing like that.” You opened your compact. Not needed in the age of cellphones but loving the feminine touch.

There was something so... seductive about using a compact mirror to apply your lipstick.

“Kyle does have the legs for this dress.” You said, applying that lipstick he loves. That same shade that looked beautiful on your lips. The same lipstick you would mark all over Johnny’s body. “Believe what you want. Not my problem anymore.”

You put your compact back in your purse along with the lipstick in case you needed to reapply it after dinner.

Johnny's eyes zeroed in on your lips before his eyes met yours. That's when you felt it again. That undeniably spark of chemistry that you had with him. With all of them. That feeling that sucked the very breath from your lungs and for a moment all you could see was the man in front of you.

"Bonnie," he said placing his hands on your neck. His thumbs stroking your cheeks softly. "Just one more chance." He begged, his voice breaking. "I'm a fucking git, but I won't let you go again. I won't leave." You knew that when it came to promises, Johnny had proven that even if he didn't mean to break them, he had forgotten he made them in the first place.

But in that moment you didn't care. Even after everything, Meredith was right. You had loved them. Everything else had ended so shitty. John had blamed you. Kyle had only shown up until it was too late. And Simon. The last time you would ever hear his voice was after he said such cruel things to you.

No.

If you were done with Johnny, you won't let the last time he fucked you being a quick, rough fuck doggystyle before leaving you naked and alone in your bed.

No. The last time with Johnny needed to be good. It might make it harder to finally leave, but you needed this. You needed to know that he could still make love to you and not just fuck you like an animal in heat.

"Johnny?" You asked. Your mouth dangerously close to his. "I don't want you to fuck me."

"I don't have to," he said, starting to take a step back to give you some space before your hands reached his. Holding him in place.

He can't let you go. You couldn't let him go. Not yet. Just one more. You needed just one more time to get him out of your system. The closure you needed.

"Make love to me." You begged, your eyes pleading. "I need to know that I wasn't just something you wanted to fuck." You don't move as his eyes search yours, looking for reassurance. When you nod, his mouth softly touches your own.

His hands travel along your body, but never fully leave you. Sliding your neck to your back. Pulling your body closer to his. A hand placed on your hip so tightly he's afraid you might disappear.

There's no rush, no haste in his touch. His mouth not eager to devour you.

He's slow. With his hands, his tongue. Even when he picks you up and walks to your bedroom with your legs around his waist.

He doesn't throw you on the bed.

Not this time.

He lays you down. His body laying on top of yours. His hand skimming along your bare thighs, but not daring to travel any higher.

But damn you needed him. You wanted love making, but if he didn't get inside you soon, you weren't sure you could let him go after this. You weren't sure you would be able to leave.

"Johnny," you whimpered, pulling away from his mouth. "Please." You took his hand, putting it between your thigh. Aching for any friction.

He obeyed without hesitation. If you told him to get on his bark, he would in that moment. Anything to make you happy. Anything to keep you.

"Got to get you out of this dress first." He resting on his knees before he began to slide the black satin from your thighs to your stomach. You maneuvered, helping him undress you leaving you in nothing.

"I thought you liked the dress." You couldn't help, but tease. Your hand finding its home on the back of his neck, pulling you to him once more.

In a tone lacking any note of humor and in all seriousness, he looked at you. Really looking at you. Taking in how your smile reached your beautiful eyes before he said, "I want you bare to me when I take you."

You felt your stomach flutter at his words before he began to take off his clothes.

He joined you again. His body relaxing when they got between your legs again. His mouth traveled from your exposed neck to your nipples. Sucking and flicking them with his tongue until your back arched. Pressing harder into his mouth.

Your hands tangled in his soft brown hair before you boldly guided him to your already dripping core. He slid down your body before his hands began to push your knees apart until you were fully expose to him.

With your knees bent, Johnny settled on his stomach, placing soft kisses on your soft inner thighs. God, did he love seeing you squirm. He smiled at your tortured expression before looking down at your sex. "There she is." He said before placing a kiss on your pussy.

It wasn't sloppy. He wasn't diving in and licking at your center like so many times before. He was kissing it just as tenderly as he kissed your mouth. Slowly building it deeper and deeper. Adding tongue. Breaking away to readjust his head.

The delicious ache between your thighs began to become to unbearable. "Need you inside me." You panted. "Johnny-"

"Shhh." He soothed. "Got to warm you up first , Bonnie." He said before slipping his finger inside of you. One was all it took before your head settled against the pillows again. When your body relaxed, he added another. He would need to add three to make sure you were good and ready.

His digits stroked that spongy spot inside of you that made your toes curl. "You're barely fitting around my fingers." Johnny was a good 6 inches in length, but the girth is what always did you in. It hurt to take anything past his head into your mouth. If you fucked him without any preparation, especially after a week of no sex, he would tear you into too.

His tongue caressed your clit, your eyes squeezing shut as you felt your first orgasm creeping up on you.

"Johnny." You moaned, your fingers running through his soft brown hair.

"Give it to me, beauty." He panted. "Come on my face. Squeeze my fingers, Lass." He begged before his mouth went back to you.

It was like lightning. Your body now sensitive after being forsaken for so long. Your vision blurred and before you could process it, Johnny was sitting on his haunches between your legs, stroking his cock.

You could only nod, dazed and barely keeping a grip onto the reality of what this was.

The end.

He leaned forward, his cock nestling against you. You knew this was going to be nothing compared to his fingers. "Tell me if I need to stop."

You smiled, mockingly. Reminding him, "Not our first time together, Johnny." just our last.

"You were wrapped tight around my fingers." He gave a half smile before kissing your forehead. The gesture like a knife twisting in your heart. "I just don't want to hurt you."

"I'm ready." You brought your legs around his waist again. Pulling him to you, your arms wrapping around his neck as your mouths meet.

He presses into you. The head of his cock sliding inside just one or two inches. You body contracting around him in a small spasm. He swallows your moan and lets you adjust. He pulls away before looking down where the two of you meet.

"I could die like this, Lass." He said, his breath coming out unsteady as he tries his best to control himself. So close to just burying himself inside of you to the fucking hilt. "Seeing you like this is this first thing I want to see when I make it to the other side." You let out a choked cry as he pushes deeper inside you. Another inch. And another. And another until you're taking all of him.

He slurs something that sound like "fuck", but you are in too much of a daze to care. You arch into him, trying to get closer.

His thrusts are slow and deep. His pubic bone brushing against your clit making you whine and squirm. Begging for more.

You're not sure how long he had fucked you like that.

You needed it to stop.

You couldn't handle it. The softness. His words.

I could die like this, Lass.

Your lip quivered as you told him you wanted to be on top. You needed a moment. A chance to create a bit of space before he shattered your world yet again.

He pulled out. His absence already making you ache for him again before he settled beside you.

You squatted above his cock. Your feet flat against the mattress as you grabbed his hardness and slipping it inside of you. The sound you let out was pornographic. A high pitched, soft moan slipping from your lips as he buried himself inside of you again.

You placed you hands on his chest. Using the leverage to ride him. Your arms serving as barrier for you to get your bearings.

You used his body just as he had used yours. Throwing your head back, you moved faster and faster. Readjusting so your hands went from his chest to his stomach, giving him a better view of your connecting bodies.

His hand slips between the two of you, thumb pressing against your clit, and you tighten even more around. A needy whimper coming out of your throat. The sound mixing in with the sounds of his labored breathing and slapping skin as he begins to fuck up into you.

Even though he had been doing all the work for the last several minutes, you felt the tension start to creep into your calf.

"Fuck fuck fuck." You screech, barely able to hold yourself up any longer. "Ow." You hissed as the cramp took hold.

"Leg cramp?" He asked, not even faltering in his thrusts. You pathetically nod before he takes it upon himself to flip you on your back again.

"I'm going to do this every chance I can." He promises, pressing a searing kiss onto your exposed neck. "Any chance you'll give me." You can't take it. His words, his mouth, his fucking cock. It's too much. "I'm going to show you how much I want you. How much I want to fucking worship ye. Do anything to make you feel good. Not going to leave you again like that, Bonnie."

You reach for him again, pull him into a searing kiss just to shut him up. You need him to shut up. You couldn't take his false promises. You wouldn't survive it. Couldn't.

"Shit." His thrusts quicken, his thumb returning to your swollen bud. Flicking it in a way he had crafted into an art. He buries his face into your neck and you know he's getting close.

You weren't too far behind.

He didn't want to come, not yet, but this was fully out of his control. It was pathetic. A week without sex and you had him nearly coming in the first ten minutes.

But that's what you want. To see him lost in the idea that you would stay.

"Johnny." You groan out. "Please. Cum inside me."

He draws fast, beautiful circles around your clit that immediately push you over the edge. You shut your eyes tight, squeezing him like a vice as you come in strong waves, continuing to push inside you.

in out in out in out.

Deliciously clenching around him tighter and tighter until he can't take it anymore.

"Fuck," he says again, and you see it in his face, and you see it in his face, the second it's all over for him. You want to sear the image in your head. Keep it there forever. Knowing you'll never see it again. The way those enchanting blue eyes squint nearly shut before closing in complete ecstacy.

His mouth would open. A moan caught in his throat that he isn't ready to let go.

His hand closes around your hip, holding you to him while he presses as far as he can go, and it's only then do you feel his cock twitch in quick, jerky movements. He moans out your name before taking your mouth into a searing kiss.

"I fucking love you." He says. "So fucking much."

He was still under the blanket when you returned from the bathroom. You picked up your clothes up from the floor. Looking at the clock realizing you had less than five minutes to get out the door before you would be late for dinner.

"What are you doing?" he asked. You couldn't look at him. Hearing the panic in his voice almost made you stop. Tell him it really was just dinner with a colleague. A woman. That you would be back. Beg him to wait until you came home.

"I can't cancel on the dinner." You said slipping your feet into your heels. "This was a mistake."

You weren't sure why you said it. You weren't sure if you were trying to convince him or yourself. If you wanted to hurt him or make him think you regretted it when you would truthfully do it again. You would do it again and again. You would never stop.

Like Johnny, you could have died in that moment, but for a completely different. Where he would be content, you would be saved from the pain. The pain currently coursing throughout your very soul.

"Lock the door behind you." You say as you practically sprint out the bedroom. Only slowing in your stride to snatch your purse off the kitchen counter before running out. The door slamming behind you.

The restaurant was nicer than you expected. The wine alone was the price of an entree. You didn't seem to be phased at all and were relieved when Renée insisted on picking up the bill.

Your dinner had been delicious and the conversation even better. Renée wrote fantasy romance and wanted to pick your brain about a Why Choose. You had nearly spent out the over priced wine you weren't even really enjoying. Oh the irony.

"It's like all the rage now, but it's hard to make more than one appealing as the love interest. You should have seen the Goodreads comments on my last book. So many people bitched about my FMC not ending up with a character who was quite literally her adopted brother."

"So," you took a breath trying to find the words. "I'm going to be honest. I only read your latest book and I loved Luka. But I can't compare him to other MMCs you've written about so I don't know if they are similar or different. But what I can say is that I'm seeing like this trend of MMCs where they are all this dark-haired, brooding or mysterious character who dislikes mostly everyone and is only soft for either a select few or only the FMC."

"I think if you are going to write a Why Choose you need to think of guys you wouldn't mind falling in love with." You couldn't help, but think of what drew you to your boys. "One could be the leader. Someone who isn't afraid to have his neck on the line. To make sure everyone else is taken care of and being strong enough to handle the stress of that. He would be big on words of affirmation. Lifting the FMC up. For me, it would be someone that I know will take care of business. He's confident in his decision. That confidence would extend to me." You clear your throat. "If I was the FMC, that is."

"Okay." She nodded, pulling out a pen and notepad. "You don't mind if I-"

"I don't write about polygamy." Crossed that bridge. Currently trying to burn it. "So feel free."

"Another could be the one who it's so easy to fall in love with their charm. The one who falls to his knees. Wanting to worship every inch of her. The one who makes her laugh. That one to make her forget about the sadness that creeps into her bones. The one to hold her whenever he could. He's about quality time and physical touch."

"So different love languages." She said, her pen quickly scribbling.

"Yeah." You said, leaning forward. "Then there is the gift giver." Your mind went to Gaz. Most of the gifts and trinkets in the box sitting by your door had came from him. He had gotten you new earbuds when yours broke. When you were being harassed at your gym, he had bought you and him a membership at a different one. "The one who would give her the world if she asked for it. If you're going with a high fantasy then maybe the one to take note of something at a market that the FMC had been eyeing and he bought it for her. Just someone who takes notice like that."

"So acts of service would fall with all of them then you think?"

No. Simon had been the one who probably spent the least amount of money on you. He didn't praise you like John. He didn't even try to attach himself at your hip like Johnny.

But if you needed something fixed, he would come fix it himself. He'd be damned letting a strange man into your apartment. And alone? Fucking forget about it. The one who hated any sort of cardio activity outside of fucking you, but didn't hesitate in attempting to keep up with you when you wanted to go on a run and get some fresh air. If you needed something done, he didn't pay someone else to do it. He did it. If you wanted to do something, he made it happen. He made you safe.

You couldn't bring yourself to say explain it. Your eyes begin to itch. Warning you to think of something else.

So instead you just told her yeah. That they would all commit acts of service. And even in your hypothetical explanation of characters that haven't even been written yet, Simon was still the ghost among them.

"Lucky fucking girl." Renée said setting down her pen.

"Yeah." You said, downing the rest of your wine.

You walked home. The cool crisp wind feeling like it was whipping your exposed skin. It was soothing as the ghost of Johnny's touch still seemed to burn you.

You had hoped that you would get some closure, but you just felt hollow. You came twice and still manage to leave unsatisfied. Johnny wasn't malicious... he was Johnny. He wasn't like the others. Simon would never apologize and John and Kyle wouldn't try to keep reaching out after you told them know once.

Johnny couldn't stand you being mad at him. He never could. He would beg and beg for your forgiveness. You didn't regret fucking him one last time. He needed to know that you were well and truly done. There was no going back from this.

"Hey, Love!" You were pulled from your thoughts at the sound of a voice coming from a source you couldn't see. You perked up, quickly scanning the dimly lit street before your eyes settled on a cluster of shadows just across the street. "Yeah." The slurring voice said again. "Talking to you gorgeous!"

You resumed your trek home. Now picking up your pace. "Don't be like that! Where ya off to?" The voice followed you. You kept your gaze straight. You were three minutes away. Three minutes and you would be at your building.

Three minutes.

Three minutes.

"What's the rush?" Another voice joined the cacophony. "Just want to have a chat."

You turned. They were maybe twenty feet away. You kept your eyes glued to them as your started to make a run for it.

You had made it about ten feet before your body collided with someone. Firm hands gripped your upper arms, steading you as you threatened to fall back.

You sucked in a breath of air, ready to scream when you looked up. It was too dark to make out the man's facial features. He was tall. His head eclipsing the street lamp just behind him. You shook beneath his hands. The voices behind you now silent.

"Keep walking." You didn't need to see his face. You knew that deep timber voice anywhere. He released you from his grip before letting you pass him.

"Just wanted to have a chat." You heard one of them try to reason. "No harm done."

"No harm done yet." Was the last thing you heard Simon say before you broke out into a full fledged run.

#captain john price #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #call of duty #angst

[crushmeeren]

Quickies with the MHA Boys!

Everyone involved in this work of fiction is 18+/aged up — if that bothers you block me or scroll on.

Bakugou, Kirishima, Todoroki

How the MHA Boys Eat You Out Link

———————————————————————

Bakugou Katsuki

Katsuki doesn’t mind quickies per se. He just has to be in the right mood for it. He’d much rather take his sweet time. Not wanting to rush, being able to relax afterwards — otherwise he’d rather just not have sex at all.

But there are times when he’s frustrated. When your schedules haven’t lined up, when you haven’t had sex in weeks — he gets pent up.

Katsuki’s the kind of guy who will lounge on your bed in just his tight black boxer briefs. Arms folded behind his head as he lazily waits for you to get out of the shower.

He knows it gives you a view that you’re unable to resist of his unreasonably slim waist and toned arms — as the position allows his biceps to flex involuntarily.

And of course, he’s completely aware that you have to leave for work in less than 20 minutes. He just doesn’t give a single shit.

He’s been dreaming about your warm pussy sucking in his cock in all night and there’s not a chance in hell he’s letting you go until he fucks you silly.

Tilting his head, he leers at your naked body as you drop your towel onto the bed. He urges you in a low, rasping voice to “come here baby,” sporting a wolfish grin.

You already know what he wants. It makes your stomach burn pleasantly with arousal.

“Five minutes Katsuki, I’m serious.” You shoot him a pointed glare. He scoffs, rolling his eyes.

“As if I won’t have you cumming in less than two minutes.” The grin he levels you with is sharp around the edges.

Although, the man’s right to be confident.

Katsuki will push you onto the bed, cock already stiff and thick when he wiggles between your legs, yanking his briefs down to mid thigh.

You’re turned on enough that he slides in with relative ease, even if it burns a little, because let’s be real — he’s so hot you would take him any time, any place.

Katsuki will tug one of your legs up, hooking it over his shoulder. He’ll bend you in half and circle his fingers around your throat, applying pressure that’s just right.

With precision, he wholly makes this quickie worth it. Katsuki has your toes curling, cheeks flushed. Choking on your own moans as you cum.

He does exceptionally well with the time limit, pulling out and cumming all over your belly with a groan that leaks out between gritted teeth.

Almost exactly five minutes on the dot.

————————————————————————

Kirishima Eijirou

Eijirou has the spirit of a happy, care free, lovesick golden retriever. So naturally, he loves physical touch.

He’s addicted to constantly being in your space. Hugging you, holding your hand, pulling you to sit on his lap, kissing you.

And if we’re being honest, whenever he gets the chance, he’ll be inside you too. Stretching you out. Making you feel so good it melts your brain — if only because it makes him feel twice the amount of pleasure to you see come undone.

Needless to say, Eijirou enjoys quickies a fuck ton. He also is the sort of guy who gets literal heart eyes whenever you initiate one with him.

He’ll be relaxing on the couch, lost in some sort of video game when you snatch the controller out of his hands and place it out of his reach.

Eijirou sputters, glancing up at you in surprise. His startled expression turns to one of knowing when you straddle his lap. Your sundress bunching up and exposing the soft skin of your inner thighs in the process.

“I’ve got 10 minutes until I leave for my appointment. Wanna have sex Ei?” You ask teasingly, a coy smile playing on your lips. You wrap your arms around his neck, gently trailing your fingers up the nape of his neck.

You swear if Eijirou had a tail it would be wagging. He moans low in his throat. Your light touch and filthy words are all it takes to get him hard, stiff cock pressing eagerly into your thigh.

“How could I ever say no to you gorgeous?” He beams at you with his sharp teeth, resting his hands your hips. You snicker, raising up a little so he can slid his shorts down enough to free himself — just under his balls.

He sneaks your panties to the side, rubbing tight circles into your clit with his thumb. Your teeth sink into your lower lip, trying to hold in a whine.

He has mercy on you, gripping his shaft and parting your pussy with his cock until his head catches. You ease yourself down onto him until you’re fully seated in his lap.

You both simultaneously breathe out a sigh of relief.

After that, he lets you ride him until you’re sweaty and satiated. He praises you sweetly, holding your waist with a tight grip and helping you bounce.

“That’s it baby, take what you need. I’m right here, I’ve got you. Love it when you cum for me,” he coos, voice tender and adoring.

It’s effortless to cum like that, face buried in his shoulder while you rock back and forth in his lap. Letting him hug you tightly to his chest.

Once you come back down to earth, you check for the time, noticing you’ve only got two minutes left.

You taunt Eijirou with the time limit, telling him it’s his turn to cum before he has to take care of himself.

He chases his own pleasure desperately. Kissing you to keep himself from biting marks into your neck.

You’re only running a couple minutes late when you go, leaving Eijirou a sticky, gooey mess on the couch.

————————————————————————

Todoroki Shouto

Shouto, he’s, well — a mix of the two really. He enjoys taking his time, but he also cannot keep himself out of your bubble.

One of Shouto’s absolute favorite past times is cuddling with you.

The coziness of your body, the way you fit like a missing puzzle piece into his chest. The tender kisses he can trail across your neck and the ones you give him in return.

That’s why Shouto takes immense pleasure in those honey like, sweet and warm, limbs riddled with sleep morning quickies.

He can’t resist the temptation.

You’ll hear Shouto’s piercing alarm go off in the morning, jostling you from your dreams. The sheets rustle as Shouto maneuvers to turn off his alarm.

Your lids are droopy, and your limbs lag by a couple seconds when you turn over to cling to him.

You sprawl out half way on top of his chest and you slip your arms around his neck, nuzzling his shoulder.

“Sho,” you mumble in his ear, voice rasp and faint. He snakes an arm around your waist, tugging you closer.

“Mm?” The noise he makes rumbles in his chest

“I want you before you go, please,” you plead softly, kissing along his jawline. He squeezes you tighter briefly, responding without a trace of hesitation.

“Turn over baby, I’ll have to make it quick.”

So, you shift around until you’re on your side. Back facing Shouto as he scoots in close, wiggling down until his forehead rests at the back of your neck.

He shoves the large T-shirt you’re wearing up to your ribs. Smoothing his hand over your bare ass and squeezing until your breath hitches in your throat. Shouto smacks your ass playfully.

Automatically you lift your thigh and Shouto grips underneath it to keep it in that position, shifting his legs until he’s got the right angle.

The silky, warm skin of his full cock slides along your pussy and you jolt. He must’ve got rid of his briefs at some point.

Shouto shift his hips, pressing the head of his cock to your pussy, rocking his hips unhurriedly until he’s sliding in and out completely with each thrust.

You’re already crying out his name, gripping the sheets.

“Is this what you needed Angel?” Shouto pants hotly against your neck. “Your pussy feels so good,” he moans, tone pushing into a whine.

You can’t speak, still halfway asleep as Shouto takes you with slow and deliberate thrusts.

He repeatedly presses into your sweet spot as your climax builds gradually. It’s like a faucet sluggishly dripping warm water into a cup until it fills to the brim and overflows through your veins.

It doesn’t take long for Shouto to cum after your pussy clenches around him like a vice.

He presses in until his balls are flush against your skin. Biting into the back of your shoulder blade with a high pitched moan. That will definitely leave a mark.

“I love you,” Shouto murmurs, planting a kiss to your cheek after he helps you get clean enough to fall back asleep.

You’re out like a light before you hear the door shut, hoping Shouto makes it to the agency on time.

#bakugou smut #bakugou x reader #kirishima x reader #todoroki x reader #kirishima smut #shoto smut #todoroki smut #bakugou katsuki x reader #todoroki shoto smut #kirishima eijirou x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #kirishima eijirou smut #bakugou katsuki smut #mha smut

[iindigoeyed]

so. Torchy

#ok look i KNOW this isnt miraculous IM SORRY it wont happen again but i had to draw him #tangotek #secret life #trafficblr #life series #what tags do i use #secret life spoilers #<- does that even apply here? it's been a week #sorry if this looks like shit i ran out of steam halfway thru #I honestly gave up on colors and background. best i can do is whatever this is #also i dont keep up with what the consensus on everyones skins look like so this is me eyeballing it #indigarts

[gingerbreadmonsters]

sleepy and v fed up w this blasted reading for japanese history class tomorrow. give me 45 minutes to finish this article and i will be back to talk about kissing or something

#for the blissfully uninitiated: hello i am history student #which is a fantastic thing to be but also a significant pain in the [REDACTED] when it wants to be #the professor for this class is almost unbearably terrible which does not exactly make me WANT to do this reading #but the exam is in like 2 weeks lol #so yk. i have the hardest life of anyone on earth etc etc #god forbid i actually do the degree i asked to do lmao #also i up early this morning to drag myself to the immigration bureau for a visa amendment #which meant a decidedly unpleasant hour on the metro during rush hour :( #its bc im applying for this english TA position in spring #its literally only for 5 days and tbh i wouldn't mind doing it for free bc i am sad like that and enjoy teaching for fun #but it IS paid - and paid work is Not Allowed under my student visa #so even though i literally have not even GOT the job (applications close today) i still had to go and apply for permission to work #watch as they dont hire me lol #oh i should mention - for those who may not know i am in tokyo this year #i am british and i usually go to uni in the uk but im on a study abroad year this year #i came to japan in sept of 2023 so ive been here for coming up on 5 months and i will be going back home in august on 2024 #its weird to think that im approaching the halfway point #tbh i should really just make this a separate post but whatever #coming to japan has been very strange but a good thing i think

[unproduciblesmackdown]

oh the broadway world review of summer stock (a) loved it as much or more than anyone (b) has as much or more info than anyone and (c) generally has the most vivacity thus far

Summer Stock made its world premiere at The Goodspeed Opera House to a most deserving enthusiastic standing ovation. Based on the 1950 MGM film starring Hollywood legends Judy Garland and Gene Kelly, Summer Stock is a spectacular production with phenomenal dancing, feel-good music, and a sweet story, all modernized for today’s audiences.

Audiences will recognize and love hearing classic songs by Irving Berlin and from The Great American Songbook, including “Happy Days are Here Again”, “Accentuate the Positive”, “I’m Always Chasing Rainbows”, “It’s Only a Paper Moon”, “Me and My Shadow”, “Red Hot Mamma”, “’Til We Meet Again", and “You Wonderful You”. Summer Stock’s writer, Cheri Steinkellner, takes the original film story to a whole new level that both contemporary and classic theater goers will absolutely adore. Steinkellner provides additional lyrics to upgrade the story to first class. It’s hard to believe that she “got the call” to write Summer Stock in October, completed the workshop draft by March, and had the rehearsal draft ready by June for a July opening. Steinkellner clearly works well under pressure - Summer Stock is a diamond.

In the Writer’s Notes, Steinkellner elaborates on the restrictions of bringing the film to stage (like how heavy farm machinery wouldn’t fit up on the Goodspeed stage) and how she tackled answering the many questions that the original film glossed over: “Why is a Shakespearean matinee idol starring in a musical in a barn? What happens when you make show-people wake up at sunrise to muck out the stalls?” and more. She repositioned and repurposed the film’s original songs like “Howdy Neighbor” and “Dig for Your Dinner”, so the classic elements that film fans are looking for are still there - only, frankly, much much better. Lastly, she addresses the challenge of “crafting a [contemporary] story to support a diverse cast of characters with intention, authenticity, and care.” Steinkellner rose to the challenge, knocked it out of the park, and created a great musical in record time.

The story is simple and sweet. Set just after World War II, we meet Jane Falbury (Danielle Wade), a doting daughter working the family farm with her father, Lt. Henry “Pop” Falbury (Stephen Lee Anderson). The Falbury Farm is in trouble thanks to the devious and ambitious Margaret Wingate (Veanne Cox), who has grand aims for a monopoly over the Connecticut River Valley. Scheming with her naive son, Orville (Will Roland), they will stop at nothing to own the farm. Meanwhile, Jane’s showgirl sister, Gloria (Arianna Rosario), has moved to The Big Apple to make it on Broadway. She wins a spot in the chorus line of Joe Ross’ (Corbin Bleu) brand new show. With his sidekick and music director, Phil Filmore (Gilbert L. Bailey II) in tow and a Shakespearean star, Montgomery Leach, ready to take center stage, they hit a snag when they lose their rehearsal space. Gloria suggests uprooting the show to rehearse in her family’s barn. Jane, who is fresh out of farm hands, reluctantly agrees to let the actors stay in exchange for earning their keep. The company’s tight harmonies might not charm Jane at first, but they certainly had us swooning. I won’t spoil the entire plot, but will say that hilarity ensues, hearts flutter, dreams are realized, and it’s wonderful.

When I first heard about Summer Stock, I cynically thought that it felt too familiar. The show is set on a Connecticut farm whose owners have fallen on hard times and risk losing their livelihood. They turn to their Broadway friends, who are amidst the usual uphill battle of making it big in show business, and agree to put on a brand new production in the barn to raise funds to save the farm. It’s based on the film of the same name, features music by Irving Berlin, and includes incredible tap numbers, and spotlights America’s sweetheart Corbin Bleu. Hearing that alone, I’d think this was a copy/paste of Tony Award-nominated Holiday Inn: The New Irving Berlin Musical, which opened at The Goodspeed in 2014 and went to Broadway in 2016. We’ve seen a number of Irving Berlin musicals, including White Christmas, and the most recent Broadway production Nice Work if You Can Get It, starring Kelli O’Hara and Matthew Broderick. So, what more is there to add to this Broadway subgenre? If you’d asked me before, I would argue there’s “Nothing More to Say”. I was very wrong. Summer Stock raises the bar with phenomenal choreography, clever storytelling and humor, beautiful orchestrations, and unparalleled performers.

Speaking of unparalleled performers, the cast is perfection. There’s not a single throwaway line or character. They’re all exquisite gems and I’m running out of words to compliment them all. The “city mice” dancers and ensemble features Erika Amato, Hannah Balagot, DeShawn Bowens, Ronnie S. Bowman Jr., Emily Kelly, Francesca Mancuso, Tommy Martinez, Corinne Munsch, Gregory North, Kaylee Olson, Jack Sippel, and Cayel Tregeagle. Danielle Wade sweetly croons just like Judy Garland and swept audiences off their feet. As I left the theater, I overheard two ladies praising Wade for her stupendous performance, saying it was perfect likeness of Garland, yet even more meaningful. Arianna Rosario, as the sugary sweet sister, is absolutely delightful. Stephen Lee Anderson, as  the veteran and father, tugs our heart strings. Gilbert L. Bailey II and Will Roland had the crowd roaring with laughter as the feisty music director and innocent corporate heir. Veanne Cox, as the melodramatic mother and CEO of Wingate Agricultural Corporate, had the crowd roaring with laughter from the moment she spoke her first line. Not to be outdone, J. Anthony Crane, as the over-the-top Shakespearean star, brought down the house with his entrance alone. Together, Cox and Crane generate instant heat, which is especially appropriate since they rock the stage with Red Hot Mamma. The cheeky, interspersed Shakespearean innuendo is fast-paced, clever, and had the audience hooting and hollering. I would see the show again for this duo.

Last, but far from least, Corbin Bleu, as the show’s director, gives the performance of a lifetime. Bleu radiates pure joy and leads with heart, inviting his scene partners to shine with him. Audiences instantly fell in love with his gorgeous, velvety voice, and, understandably, swooned. Bleu previously won the Chita Rivera Award for Outstanding Male Dancing in a Broadway Show for his portrayal in Irving Berlin’s Holiday Inn, and his transcendent tapping in Summer Stock shows he’s not stopping there. Bleu’s dancing is out of this world! You can’t miss his charming and virtuosic spin on Gene Kelly’s iconic solo dance, featuring the world’s most unexpected dance partner. Corbin Bleu is a national treasure.

The 8-piece orchestra, lead by Goodspeed’s resident music director Adam Souza, performs the remarkable orchestrations, by Doug Besterman, beautifully. The score is demanding, but the musicians don’t let us see them sweat. As much as I’m gushing, I would recommend shifting the show to one hour earlier and give it a little trim. Not a haircutter’s inch, but a discreet tidy-up. As it turns out, I was in slight agreement with the obnoxious subscribers behind me, who disrupted a precious moment to voice their complaints, “This is two hours and forty minutes? Way too long!” I nearly turned to fisticuffs in defense of this phenomenal cast, but chose to deliver an icy, yet effective, glare. I digress, but Goodspeed subscribers are truly spoiled with top-rate performers straight from the Broadway stage. In any case, we could use a couple more developmental scenes to fully flesh out the plot, and I’d be willing to sacrifice by shaving a bit off some of the longer dance numbers (“Everybody Step” and “Dig For Your Dinner”) and songs. (Not too much! Just an inch! And don’t dare recast any characters!)

That isn’t to say that the dance performances weren’t epic: Summer Stock has the best dancing I have ever seen, hands down. The virtuosic ensemble, lovingly called “city mice”, perfectly deliver wildly acrobatic displays all with impossibly high-energy and make it look easy. Director and choreographer, Donna Feore, has made an unforgettable, magnificent Goodspeed debut. Feore makes use of every inch of the stage, making it feel larger than life, and her attention to detail is unsurpassed. The choreography is out of this world! Wilson Chin, scenic designer, set the stage beautifully. The Technicolor New England farm-turned-theater is framed with classic red-sided barn, delicate florals climbing the walls, and hurricane lanterns lovingly displayed as accent pieces. Summer Stock is Goodspeed’s best original production ever. The 12, which opens next, has very big shoes to fill. Summer Stock has its eyes set on Broadway. Does Summer Stock deserve a Broadway run? Absolutely. In this critic’s opinion, it couldn’t get there soon enough.  Perhaps my favorite aspect of the production were the many comedic theater flourishes. Broadway audiences will cry with laughter when they watch the city mice (actors) learn how to play the part of farmhands: “What is the farmer’s motivation?” “E-I, E-I!” Frankly, I want an original cast album yesterday. Finally, when it opens on Broadway, you’ll wish you had seen it at The Goodspeed first.

#this is the full text; the Breaks in [indented format] are from organic ones for ads & stuff on the sitepage #since the way formatting works now has an unbroken [indented text] line as One Block even if there's line breaks & Character Limit applies #fixed up a few name typos i caught....reminds me that i did check goodspeed's site again & someone Did correct ''will reynolds'' lmao #shoutout to not only this review mentioning gilbert / phil but also effectively mentioning the phil / orville duo i know is real & true #also i love that gloria is in the chorus now and not the lead....seems fitting & that eliminates [jane must take gloria's role] #and suggests that mayhaps jane's role is wholly created by/for her which also seems more apropos; thematically anyways lol #i agree re: the charm of calling the ensemble dancers / roles the city mice lol #feel free to have spoiled more plot...loving the Reviewer's feistiness also fr. the fisticuffs & effective icy glares. hooting & hollering #everyone agrees on unshocking points like ''could use a lil polish / honing / tightening up sure'' & ''fewer songs maybe'' #here like ''shorter dance sequences a couple of times maybe''....also do recall via that cheri steinkellner interview i quoted #(in a separate post weeks back) that she mentioned her experience in tv serving the need to Write Fast #heard similarly before re: other ppl who worked in tv production then wrangling Shorter Than Usual development periods in other mediums #call that other media....also sure does seem like they can do another run of this show in nyc #between (a) being like ''yeah we want to'' & (b) corbin bleu is there (& others; incl ppl who've been on bway) & (c) nyt critic's pick.... #summer stock #will roland #orville wingate #(p.s. i don't get the ''what is a farmer's motivation'' ''e i e i'' lol i get One ref & feel i am missing another theatre related one)

[lhrry]

x

#by the way I know this fandom sometimes gives the vibes that the more aloof you are or less emotional reactions you have #the better/more mature a fan you are #especially when veteran fans and larries have been here for so long and seen the worst of the stunts etc and we are just unfazed by the #majority of things which applies to me as to a veteran larrie as well ok #BUT it’s ok to have emotional reactions to things and we all have them #when you’re emotionally invested in something ofc you are going to feel not only the good but the bad sometimes #I just think the bad shouldn’t prevail and if it does you need to reevaluate your engagement with the fandom #but for what it’s worth I was really upset yesterday by the added residencies and the ridiculous prices and the fact that I’ve been waiting #for seven years to see Harry again after my off concert and some people are buying five to ten tickets for a concert in one city #KNOWING that I’m still privileged because I get to see him at all #I don’t like them making me feel like a little cash-waving dot that does not even matter because she’s not in a privileged area of the US #it made me feel bad and that’s ok to say ok?? #as well as I’ve felt a pang at some of the HO photos this week I HATE that he #is stuck with her and hate imagining dwd promo and stuff #so like this is just to say that you’re not a worse fan for feeling things lol #(but let it be known I’m never a fan of excessive dramatics and hyperbolic and catastrophizing those are all a little different things)

[dredshirtroberts]

y'know. i don't often hate the way my brain is and how difficult it makes certain things for me.

i do a little today though.

#i'm probably going to feel this way the rest of the week #got some Stressful Stuff on my plate - none of it is world ending no matter what my brain thinks #but it's stressful and needs to get done #we already took care of One of the big major things just today because i was having a breakdown about it #because peeks threw up on my favorite shirt after having thrown up all over my bed yesterday and i'm like #she does this when there's a lot of change and stress going on and we've just moved and also we're attempting peace negotiations between he #and Solaire and it's. y'know. hampered by the fact that she's poorly socialized and both of them are dumb as rocks #and so she's stressed out because of the myriad of changes happening to her #and i'm stressed out because she's stressed out PLUS all the other bureaucratic nonsense i have in my brain #AND there's external stress in my foundkin (we're workshopping ways i can integrate the Family Label to apply to folks who weren't terrible #to me when i was a child) and it's just like #i had a really good day yesterday #i've been having pretty good days in general and i knew the crash would come and i knew that i'd get stressed about these things to the max #and that's. like. I know the science and paths behind how we got here #but i also hate that i'm here in this mindset with these things and i also cannot do the laundry myself after all #first because stairs are not always conquerable (they are Exceptionally Not For Me as of yesterday to the point where i'm going to have to #limit myself to the bathroom that doesn't have 2 stairs down to it even if it's closer in the moment) #and second because i ABHOR the texture of tide pods but i cannot deny that they are useful and so much easier to use/keep tidy #than a jug of Cleaning Goo is #so like. i'm embarrassed that all my bedding needs washing and i'm embarrassed that my shirt needs washing #and i'm embarrassed that i make dirty clothes in general and i *am* getting over that #it's slow but the fact that physically laundry is not a task i can complete on the wet side of things #(i still really enjoy the process of folding and sorting though i don't get around to it quickly) #but like. this is one of the reasons why i get freaked out about the fact that i create laundry that needs doing #even if it's not actually my fault (i'm trying very hard to remember it's not my fault the cat threw up on my clothes #and them being put away would have meant she probably would have thrown up on something else that needed to be cleaned #like the bed for example - i cannot put my whole bed away so she doesn't throw up on it) #becuase i feel like i'm burdening someone else to do a whole bunch of work for *me* and i can't do anything in return #(as if i haven't been very deliberately trying to keep up with the dishes daily this whole week so i don't feel like i contribute nothing t #the household)

[hecksupremechips]

Literally feeling sooooo horrible and hopeless oh boy 🌝

#theres just a lot of horrible factors rn that have built a perfect storm #canceled the internet to my old apartment months ago and then they decided to charge me for ‘not returning their equipment’ #when ive literally tried to send it twice and get like no fucking direction from them #and i dont have anyyyy money right now #yesterday i was woken up at 10:30 by my dad who had to come home from work #just to move the car cuz these fuckijg. i dunno. gutter guys showed up and couldn’t do anything with my car in the way #i had no way of knowing theyd even be there but i checked my phone and had mean angry missed calls from my dad #all cuz i just couldnt be fucked to wake up earlier #this whole week ive been completely exhausted and i cant do anything as a result i cant focus i cant feel anything its all numb #my mother tells me shes gonna spend money that i guess she does just have ready to throw away on getting me diagnosed with autism #something i tried and tried to tell her for months that i dont need nor want and that its too much hassle #not to mention the price which all my parents do is guilt trip me for costing too much money everything i do that costs money is being cut #necessary meds are being cut off cuz its a waste of money even though insurance covers most of it #but they spend money on this and i just know. i know its gonna be used against me #that if i dont obey them theyre gonna bitch about how i cost them so much money on something i explicitly said i didnt want them to do #its all getting in the way of me just trying to escape now i have to take care of this i just want to cut them off but how can i do that now #i like to lie to myself thinking ill get a job but then i dont my dad yells at me every day for not applying to a job #he gives me big lectures on religion and how im failing and how i shouldnt trust anyone except family #ive gotten an excuse to avoid him last week and this week but its over now so im stuck here again #annnddd to top it off i found a fucking lump in my stomach who even fuuucking knows what it is maybe a hernia or something #so great now i have that to deal with what the actual fuck did i do to get that ughhhhhh #its just another thing forcing me to stay in this shithole it seems i wanna fuckijg bang my head until it explodes #i cant cry though i just want to cry so i can feel the relief but that wont ever happen again cuz im a worthless nothing robot #who feels nothing and does nothing and is nothing

[m-ayo-o]

thinking of throat training with the jjk men…

18+ smut explicit fellatio - deepthroating : reader with varying experience. to those who have no gag reflex, this may not apply

Toji

What throat training? If you can't deepthroat he's not interested. If you said you could then you can.

“Baby, don't fuck about. I'm not sitting around here getting my dick sucked by some kitten–”

You choke on him one more time and you feel his hand on the back of your neck.

“Loosen your throat. Like you're yawning–” he pulls you in and you're amazed that it doesn't stop this time. You've done it before, but you were just struggling with his… girth.

“That's– more like it.”

He sinks past the barrier of your throat and finally gets what he wants. With tears littering your cheeks and your hair tugged into a ponytail he fucks your throat.

“Atta girl, keep breathin’- knew you could do it– looked hot choking on my dick though, maybe I should fuck around with less experienced girls more often, hm. Oh, you would like that? Uh huh? Can't talk with your throat stuffed, tell me later.”

Satoru

He was so good about this. Getting into a sexual relationship with Satoru Gojo was an experience. He's demanding, needy, impatient, but at the same time incredibly sweet and sensitive.

So of course he let you take your time with mastering deepthroating. You were pretty good to start with, and he's honestly taken back by your determination… since he's so long.

“Baby, ngh– th-that’s far enough– oh, oh my g–od!!”

You know he adores regular blowjobs– being sucked off and licked gets him perfectly dizzy, but you wanna make him see the fucking stars.

So you've been practising (with a dildo ofc you're not a cheater).

“H-how– how are you doing that, princess??”

You pull away for a big gasp of air–

“Wanted to learn– f’ you-”

You kiss his tip and take him back down all the way, earning his love drunk slurred reply.

“Goodgirl– o-oh- oh my f-fucking god uhhhuhh y-you’re so good at that babyyyy-!! Don’ stop don’ stop pl-pleease ‘mmmm gonna—!!!”

He cums so loud and so quick, you both get addicted.

Kento

Now this man, quite frankly, does not give a fuck if his sweet girl can get his dick down her throat or not. He's more concerned about what you'd like for brunch, what's your favourite champagne, or whether you're a morning person.

However, with your growing desire to impress him in the bedroom, after his skilled and passionate ministrations that have left you feeling cared for wholeheartedly, you decide to talk to him about it.

“You want to— what?”

He's amazed at first. A completely sweet and innocent girl like you, bringing this up with him? Sure, he's experienced it a couple of times before but he doesn't expect it. The idea of doing it with you got him hard on the spot, though.

“Ok, honey. You'll have to practise with your toothbrush, then we can slowly get bigger.”

It's a team effort, but within weeks your gag reflex is lessened and you're feeling more confident. You're ready to try it with him.

“Sweetie, go slow, n-no just be careful.”

He sits motionless on the edge of the bed with you between his knees. His hips are still, his hands are by his sides. Your throat is opening up for his tip and…

“Oh– sweet– fuck—!”

It's euphoric. Your stern and serious man is struggling to keep his mouth shut today.

“Mmm– honey y-you're too good to me, I love you so much, you know that? ‘n– y-you didn't have to do this– I, I can't believe you went to all that effort… for me.”

Says the man who goes down on you for an evening and calls it ‘foreplay’. It's all worth it, for him. You would do anything for him, not that he'd ask.

“O-ohhh sweetheart– you feel amazing–”

You're so satisfied with his unusually loud moaning- you'd like to do this very often.

Suguru

If you can do it, it's a bonus.

“Oh, you want to– ok, just t– woah–!! Take your time–”

You've already been practising for him. You wanted to surprise him.

“H-holy FUCK! Baby-baby ohhhooh sshhit—”

He's grabbing at the sheets, desperately trying to keep himself on this planet.

But you want him to lose it a little– you want to take his composure for a change.

You pull away briefly and tell him–

“Suguru, fuck my throat, ‘can take it–” and quickly swallow him down again, grabbing his hips.

He's fucking thrilled.

“Ok, ok sweetie, kneel down on the floor– yeah, now— uuuhhuhh– that's it, right there baby let me use that throat– yeah– ohmygoddd—!”

He is no longer the cool, calm and collected Suguru you know and love. He's losing it all for you; one hand fisting your hair, the other on the back of your neck, while his hips guide his cock up and down your throat.

It's an intense experience, to say the least, but when his orgasm takes him by surprise and you get this marathon sex god cumming down your throat, with sounds so pornographic you could cream on the spot? It's all worth it.

hcs | m.list

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #18+ content #toji fushiguro #toji smut #toji x reader #satoru gojo #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo smut #nanami kento #nanami kento smut #kento x reader #nanami x reader #suguru geto #getou suguru x reader #geto smut #geto suguru #suguru x reader #jjk headcanons

[hanaonesflower]

“let me do this for you.”

“let me get that for you.”

“don’t worry, I’ll take care of it.”

when nanami was around, it was like being watched by a hawk. not in a bad way of course, just not a way you're probably used to. he is always on it, taking care of everything from beginning to end, hell bent on you not ever lifting a finger and actually bar you from doing it, even behind his back.

"seriously, kento, I can do it myself!"

"absolutely not, you worked all day, when you come home, I take care of you."

you try to bargain, dishing out facts that he, too, has a full time job that usually pushes him to the brink of exhaustion that he may or may not recover from, yet, here he is, elbows deep in dough, insistent on making pasta from scratch. according to a recipe that you may have briefly mentioned weeks ago that you wanted to try.

you tried to pick up the knife and dice the tomatoes or turn on the stove, he shoos you away.

"this is getting out of control, kento."

"you can help me by taking a nice warm long bath, honey."

nanami knows what he's doing, the majority of the time. but will he ever express that he fumbles from time to time? never. not that his ego is inflated, but because he has prided himself for being to care for you boundlessly.

so when you leave the bath and find kento with his hand in a bucket of ice water, you realize something have gone south in the kitchen.

"kento! what happened?!"

"nothing to worry about my l-"

"enough! tell me, now."

your stern voice and attitude stun him, he's never seen you like this before. his behavior is downright concerning, he hasn't always been this way though. sure, he loves by serving, but he isn't always this stubborn or ridiculously protective. you have always cooked together, why would it be different this time, or the last few times within the past couple of months. nanami isn't unreasonable, but he can be if something pricked at his pride.

"I may have burned myself with the hot steam."

"may have? your skin is having a terrible reaction! for a smart man you can be so clumsy sometimes."

"it's not that bad."

you glare.

"okay, it's pretty burnt and it hurts."

"I bet it does."

you slowly pull his hand out from the ice bucket and lead him to the kitchen table and command him to sit still when you fetch the first aid. his palm is raw from the burn and his face twists in pain when you apply some pressure.

there isn't much conversation exchanged between you and him, but something is definitely hanging above your heads. kento seems to be closed off to it, but you're willing to get to the root of things.

"you haven't been yourself lately."

silence.

"I feel like this is not just about providing for me, something happened, and it affected you."

kento looks saddened by this. you are spot on. something did happen.

a few months ago, during a dinner party amongst friends, kento found himself begrudgingly involved in unpleasant conversations with his colleagues, the way they audaciously questioned his ability to care for his partner when he was always away on work trips or spending extra time at work. he took it to heart, kento questioned himself. he realized, that even though his colleagues were terribly annoying and invasive, they made some considerable points. he made the executive decision to fully take over, spinning a complete 180 on you. at first you thought it was sweet, until it became authoritarian.

"that's really how you feel?"

"have I been absent to you, y/n?"

you contemplate for a while, you truly wish he is around more, but you always understand the nature of his job.

"I do wish I can see you more often, when you had that 2-week long vacation, I was able to spend such amazing quality time with you, and it was awesome, but I also understand how your job is. I didn't want to come in between that."

"so I have been absent." he moaned defeatedly.

"please don't blame it on yourself like this, it's not healthy, I still love you, kento."

"this is all my fault, y/n, I should have been there for you more."

truthfully, you wish he was, but once again, you are both stuck between a rock and a hard place.

"have you been doing all this to somehow compensate?"

"is it working?"

he is trying to humor you, although at quite a horrid time, you still crack a smile.

"I think it's very kind of you."

he sighs.

"please, forgive me, my love. I became what you called a workaholic, I tried to get more hours to provide for you, only to come short in other aspects."

"I'm not an unemployed housewife, kento."

“this isn’t my way of saying that you are incapacitated in any way, i just wish that you didn’t have to worry about anything,” he groaned from the incessant gnawing of the antiseptic on his burnt wound.

“kento, this is a partnership, you’re not my servant and i’m not a spoiled brat,” he felt a little silly, nanami knew this fact yet he felt impotent in this sense. he opened and closed his lips, hoping to get his point across even further but nothing seemed good enough at theis point, he’s done fighting.

“whatever you’re going to say, it’s not going to change the fact that i love you,” you silence him.

“then can i say that i love you, too?”

“that, you can.”

⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒ ⭒˚‧ ︵‿⭒ཐིཋྀ ཐིཋྀ⭒‿︵ ‧˚⭒ ⭒˚‧

note: PHEEeewww… it’s really good to be back :33 this piece shall be the redebut as it is one of my cuter fics. going back with smut pieces after such a long hiatus didn’t feel right so – soft nanami is always the way to go!! more content will be coming soon (smut included >.>), stay tuned ( ˘ ³˘)

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #soft nanami #nanami can do no wrong #nanami kento jjk #jjk nanami kento #nanami x reader #nanami x y/n #nanami x you #kento nanami #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk scenarios #jjk fic #aisssHHH i love him more than ever b4 #just the sweetest broody guy evaaaa

[gemstone-roses]

Keep me warm

Summary: reader is terrified of storms, soaking wet, she shows up at hannibals door, terrified and needing comfort. Size kink. Cock warming.

Warnings: 18 plus only. NSFW, descriptions of a panic attack, cock warming, size kink, smut, hurt/comfort. You know the drill.

A:N- thankyou for requesting this I have been thinking about this scenario ever since! Hope your okay! Much love ❤️. I know you said you'd be fine with hc but you get a whole fic instead🥰 also I got rained on so much last week and now I'm full of cold I HATE this time of year ugh. I hope you like this I really do 🥰🥰

This might be one of my favourite things I've written.

You regret every decision you've made leading up to this point.

Grey clouds gather above you, you look up, wincing.

You thought you could make it home before the rain. Only wearing a light jacket, definitely not equipped for the kind of weather about to unleash on your head.

Fuck you whisper, hands clenching as thunder rolls in.

You shove your jacket off and hold it above your head in a pathetic attempt to retain at least a bit of dignity. You know you can't make it home with the storm, your anxiety already heightening with every crack you hear.

But you can make it to hannibal.

He's the only one who knew of your fear. Having to reveal it one day when you were both on the way to a crime scene.

The rain falls hard on the front of the car, wipers working overtime to clear it, your amazed hannibal can even see through the haze of rain. Your breath hitches as you hear the beginnings of a storm. You hoped he didn't notice. But this is hannibal. Of course he did. He glances over at you, sees your chest heaving and pulls over.

"Y/N" he says softly, shifting in his seat to face you.

But the rain is coming down so fast and hard and it's like you can feel it, in your soul. Your head spins as you try and take a deep breath. Hannibal places his hand on your thigh and squeezes, once again calling your name. When you don't look at him, he reaches out and grips your chin gently.

His face is flooded with concern

"I- can't

You push your hand into your chest, trying to ease the weight that's settled there.

"I know, I know, y/n, keep your eyes on me, okay?" Hannibal soothes.

You force yourself to keep looking at him, his big hand still rests cupping your chin, applying a slight pressure.

"Good" he smiles, hannibal weighs up the options in his head. Getting out of the car is out of the question, and he asks "do you trust me?" And you nod, so hannibal unclips your belt and says "Come here" before pulling you onto his lap. He immediately holds you tight, pushing you into his chest. "It'll be over soon my love" he soothes as he holds you against him. You can hear his heart beat as you lay on him, and eventually it calms you.

By the time you knock frantically at his door, your positively soaking wet, teeth chattering, tears blending in with the rain running down your face.

Hannibal opens the door and your hit instantly with a wall of warm. His brow furrows in concern as he takes in your state.

"S-storm" you mutter, looking down at the floor before you feel two hands wrap around your waist and pull you into the house.

Hannibal immediately pulls you into his embrace, placing a gentle kiss to your forehead. You shrink into his embrace, his presence beginning to melt away the fear you felt.

Shivers rack your body, cold setting in, hannibal holds you tighter.

'I've got you' he says.

"Come on, let's get you warmed up hm?" His hand comes to cup your face as he speaks.

He leads you to the lounge, where the fire is roaring.

"Let's get out of those wet clothes my love" he says, his hands rest lightly on your waist. Waiting.

You look at him, his eyes blown wide, hannibal swallows visibly.

"Would you like me to leave while you change?" He asks.

"No" you whisper.

Hannibal lifts your soaking shirt over your head. His breath catches in his throat as he does, lips parted slightly as he takes you in.

You slip out of your pants just as hannibal places the dry shirt over your head. It falls just below your knees.

Hannibal runs his fingers over your neck "you, are exquisite" he says, slightly breathless.

Heat rises to your face, warming you. Your still shivering slightly though, and hannibal of course, notices.

"Come here" he whispers, sitting down on the sofa and pulling you on top of him.

You let out a moan as you feel his cock against you, sitting deliciously against your core.

Hannibals cock hardens even more at the noise you made.

"Your still colder than I'd like darling" he says seriously, running his hands up and down your exposed thigh.

"Mm" is all you manage to say.

"I was working on my memory palace, when you knocked"

"M sorry" you mutter, ducking your head.

Hannibal tuts, lifting your chin to look at him.

"No, do not apologise, but, I do need to finish my thoughts" he says as his cock twitches.

"How about we stay like this until I'm done hm? And then I'll cook and you can spend the night?" He asks.

You nod.

"Words, darling" hannibal says sternly.

"Yes" you breathe out.

You shift slightly, his clothed cock pushing against you making you drip with need.

Hannibal grips your hips and stills you.

"Not until I'm finished" he grins. Before pushing you back slightly so he can free his cock from his pants.

You watch in awe as his thick cock springs up against his stomach.

Hannibal places his hands back on your hips before guiding you to sit on his cock.

You close your eyes, pleasure overtaking you as he sinks inside.

"No my love, you keep your eyes on me" he says, his voice gravelly.

"Hanni, please" you whisper, his cock filling you stretching you so good.

He ignores you. Continuing his thoughts as he twitches his cock every now and then inside you.

He keeps one hand gripping your chin, looking at him as you warm his cock.

"You feel so good, sitting on my cock like this, so perfect" he says.

Your chest heaves at his words.

"M so full, please, I need you" you choke out, feeling every ridge of his cock inside you, he pushed himself up on the couch slightly, causing him to hit another spot inside you.

"Fuck" you cry out.

Hannibal smirks, before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into him. He begins to trace small patterns on your back.

"Hanni, it feels so good" you whisper into his chest, clenching around him.

"I know my love, just a bit longer I promise, your doing so well for me".

You whine at his words, and hannibal keeps talking to you like that, you relax into him, his cock still snug inside you as he holds you, warming you up, as you warm his cock.

#hannibal x reader #hannibal hurt/comfort #hannibal imagine #hannibal smut #hannibal lecter x reader #hannibal lecter imagine #hannibal lecter smut

[urhoneycombwitch]

my baby puts his mouth on me

foreword: okay this is kind of written as a bonus scene for i know what they call you bc that version of reader deals with being quiet, too! (not necessary to read that one first but does provide a bit of context as far as interpersonal setting.) sort-of AU that ignores most s4 events. anon request can b found here 💖

wc: 2.2k

cw: discussions of college, shy!reader, oral + fingering (R receiving), R has breasts and a V, weed usage, softdom!Eddie, shifting POV a bit soz 

___

Somewhere between Eddie’s late nights at band rehearsal and your early morning diner shifts, you’ve both been too exhausted to properly fuck when you do see each other, barely time for a spare handjob in the past week. You’re crawling out of your skin by the weekend, missing and craving Eddie in equal measure.

So when your Saturday off happens to line up with his, Eddie makes an afternoon of it- picnic lunch on the shore of Lover’s Lake, lazing around in the August sun while your food settles, then stripping down to your underclothes (even though the spot Eddie scored was totally isolated, you’re still leery about skinny dipping) and cooling off with a quick dip in the lake.

You’re both sprawled out in the blanketed back of Eddie’s van, sun-warmed bodies pressed together, legs dangling out of the open rear door; smoke hangs hazy in the air from the joint being shared. 

“Almost end of summer,” Eddie says, nestling his nose into your neck, arms wrapping around your middle. He can’t look at you, dread unfurling in his stomach but needing to ask, to clear the air, to prepare in case this is one of the last times he gets to touch you like this- “Thinkin’ of going to any colleges?”

”Maybe.” One of your hands slides into Eddie’s hair, scratching gently at his scalp while the other lifts the joint to your lips for a long drag. “They love me at the diner and I make good tips, so I’ll prob’ly keep doing that. Can’t afford anything fancy, anyways- I’ll likely just go to Hawkins Community.”

You still haven’t told him the full story of the mall fire, yet- or about the underground world simmering beneath the surface. He never pushes you to share more than you’re comfortable, which you’re grateful for, but he knows something happened: something that paints your sleep with dark night terrors, something that causes you to slip in the middle of conversations, mind spiraling where he can’t follow. 

For reasons you can’t fully explain to Eddie, college is real low on your priority list- you’ve dedicated this summer to reconnecting with base instincts (weed and Pretty Boy being at the top of the list).

Meanwhile, Eddie tries to still the vibrant thrum of his heart at the news of you staying local, possibly for the next few years; he lifts his head to press his lips against your collarbone. “You should go to college. Jus’ try it out, at least. You’re certainly smart enough.”

“Mmm-” you hum around the joint, another inhale-exhale of smoke before murmuring, “So are you. For the record. We could apply to be nerds together, if you want-”

With a sharp gasp, your sentence drops out of midair when Eddie kisses over your nipple, already peaking through the thin material of your bra. In his hair, your grip tightens, and Eddie groans.

In one fluid movement, he props himself into his elbows on either side of your torso, bottom half of his weight pinning you in place, plucking the smoldering joint from your grasp to dampen it into a nearby ashtray.

“Gonna be my little student,” Eddie says, wet kisses trailing down your neck, flash of teeth making you squirm. “Get you some academic… skirts. The ones with the pleats. Maybe some stockings…”

“You’re so- oh, fuck- dirty…” It’s hard to keep the admonishment in your voice as Eddie noses between your thighs, bumping at your clit through the thin cover of high-cut cotton.

“Mm-hmm.” He seems pleased with the already-visible wet patch, your core leaking steadily as he burrows deeper, until all his senses are blacked-out with nothing but the sharp tang of your honeyed arousal- who needs weed. He could get high off your smell alone.

Eddie suckles at your throbbing clit, purring encouragement low in his throat when your hips jolt forward. “And you love it.”

He’s one deep inhale from being completely pussy-drunk, mouthing sloppily at the junction where thigh meets pelvis, nibble fingers toying at the band of your underwear. He slides them down and off your legs, and you let him, wiggling in anticipation against the pressure he’s keeping you pinned with.

“Could take an electrician course.” Well aware of how close to the wire this conversation is sliding, you let the crown of your head tip back, staring at the van’s ceiling, handfuls of the flannel floor blanket squeezed into fists as you try getting one last word in- “You’re good with your h- hands.”

Said hand is cupping your bare sex, warm and wide between the V of your legs, other hand pushing your thigh back to spread you wide, obscene and on display how Eddie likes; embarrassment blooms hot in your chest as he runs a finger through your folds, slick practically loud against the far-off backdrop of forest sounds.

“What was that about my hands?” He’s teasing now, can hear it in his voice even though you can’t see the lazy grin it’s paired with; a long middle finger breaches your entrance, wet warmth swallowing the length greedily.

Your eyes flutter shut, sighing. There will be a time for arguments again but right now, with a second finger addition and Eddie’s mouth working you up, there’s no room for speech.

On your end, at least- Eddie’s proven on multiple occasions to be a master at multitasking, talking you through it while managing your pleasure, and this afternoon is no exception. His fingers curl expertly into the gummy front wall of your cunt, mouth running every second it’s not latched on to your pulsing button, dirty talk smooth and easy in his low timbre.

“Yeah, honey, that’s it. Fuck, you’re so hot. Can feel you squeezin’ around my fingers, y’so tight, angel, shit… like that- there you go…”

Etcetera. Until he’s bullied his way completely into the cradle of your legs, lying flat on his stomach to get as close as possible; until your cunt is spasming around the push and pull of his fingers, wet dripping and pooling into his palm and down your ass to the blanket below.

There’s a familiar tightness coiling in your stomach, thighs bracing around Eddie’s ears in anticipation of the unraveling. A pleasure-soaked sob gets caught in your throat, dull whine escaping instead through clenched teeth, grip on the flannel doubling until your knuckles creak in protest.

“Hey.” 

There’s a confusing lack of authority or command in Eddie’s voice; you sift through the brain fog of arousal, propping your weight up into your elbows to look down at him.

Eddie looks crazy. Debauched. Lips pink and spit-soaked, chin shimmering, pupils blown out with lust as he presses a chaste kiss to the wiry curls at your mound. “Kinda quiet up there. Everything okay?”

His thumb sweeps a comforting path up the soft skin of your thigh, the abrupt switch from animal to gentleness making your head swim. He’s still looking at you with those puppy-brown eyes, fingers still buried to the hilt but unmoving; you stammer out an excuse.

“Um- yeah. M’sorry. It’s just been awhile, since you’ve had me… like this.”

It’s the truth; over the last busy week in your lives, time has eroded some of what Eddie’s been working on building with you, bravery at making noise faded with the lessened practice time.

“No one else out here, ‘cept you and me, sweetheart.” Eddie’s coaxing his fingers back into steady rhythm, watching your face carefully for any signs of withholding. “Can make as much noise as you want. Lemme hear. Please?”

Usually, Eddie’s not so soft- a sharp crack of palm to ass, flesh jiggling as he draws all the noises he wants from you- but here, in the back of the van, heady weed and warm sun an intoxicating mixture as he asks you to melt for him. 

You obey. Let the floor take your upper body’s weight again as you fuck yourself on his fingers, hips lifted and seeking release. His mouth seals over your clit again, tip of his tongue lashing quick and precise against it, frizz of his curls tickling the insides of your legs as he shakes his head.

The weed is certainly a help as trapped noises heave from your chest, mouth falling open, lax and pliant with moans. “Oh, my god, Eddie. Fuck. Holy shit. Hah- right there, please, don’t stop-”

As if he would. Eddie moans in tandem with you, his own hips chasing the maddening pressure of the floorboards against the hard jut of his cock, leaking through the front of his boxers as he adds a third finger, spurred on by the fountain of breathy words this pulls from you-

“Oh god, oh god- f-fuck- Eddie, Eddie Eddie Eddie-”

Your speech devolves into a mindless, babbling chant of his name. That coil pulls taut, has you crunching forward in a half sit-up, hands fisting at the roots of Eddie’s hair to hold him in place (perhaps harsher than you intend but based on the way his hips stutter and grind, you can safely hazard a guess that he’s into it). 

The pattern breaks when he grazes his teeth against the pulsing nub in his mouth; you have just enough time to gasp out, “I- I’m coming, Eddie, shit, m’gonna come-” before the orgasm hits you full-force.

There isn’t room in your brain to hide all the noise that threatens to suffocate, so you let them all out, muscles tightening and flexing around every bright point of pleasure that he fucks you through. High-pitched whines, panting that wracks your lungs, a moan to top it all off that feels like it comes from your toes. 

“Jesus christ.” Eddie swipes the back of his hand over his mouth, sounding wrecked himself as he climbs back over your body, silver chain necklace and dark curls swinging in front of your blissed-out face. “Fuck, princess. That was so hot.”

“Yeah?” Bashfulness hasn’t fully settled in yet, you’re still loopy from the force of your pleasure, arms slipping over the boy’s freckled shoulders as he leans down to kiss you.

His tongue has a bright tang of you, as you lick into his mouth, one hand leaving his shoulder to trail down his chest. Dark ink whorls beneath your fingertips as you reach the scratchy trail of hair just before his boxers-

“Shit.” Eddie hisses, forehead thunking into yours when you palm the hard length of him, precum soaking through the fabric, softness of your palm contrasting with the damp and rough drag of cotton. His long lashes tickle your cheek, eyes fluttering closed, soft exhale magnified by close proximity as he slowly pushes into your hand. 

You’re mildly surprised he hasn’t come, yet- usually Eddie gets off on getting you off, then uses the rest of his energy to make you both come again, together. 

What Eddie hasn’t told you yet is that he’s done some prep of his own, this week: every night you haven’t spent in his bed, his own spit-slicked fist has taken him right to the edge, stopping just short of coming with a choking grip at the base. The idea was to build up his stamina a bit, to take advantage of lonely evenings in service to a future you.

A very noble cause that is quickly being forgotten as your hand moves with more intent and pressure against his aching cock- the drug haze is almost enough to have him completely at your mercy, to tuck his nose into the curve of your neck and find sweet release by way of your pretty palm.

But he recovers. Get just enough distance from the warmth of you to clear his mind and snake his own hand down between your bodies to capture your twisting wrist. 

The protest dies on your lips when Eddie brings your hand to his mouth, sucking your middle and index finger against the pad of his tongue, saturating your digits in spit.

“Here’s what you’re gonna do.” His eyes stay locked on yours, even as he guides your newly-wet fingers back down your bodies to rest atop your cunt. “You’re gonna touch yourself until you come. Again. And if I feel like you’re holding out on me with your noises, I’m gonna make it real difficult for you to make any noise. At all.”

A thrilling shiver races up your spine, goosebumps prickling in response to the shift in Eddie’s tone. His eyes flick to your lower lip, which he bites, unable to help himself, before following the path of your hand south.

There will be time for unwinding the past, for dreaming about the future. For now, there’s a boy between your legs and the feverish glow of summer calling your name. 

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you

[zinniajones]

Text of thread at https://kolektiva.social/@zinnia/110418489814171631:

Yes - this is what is happening in Florida due to SB 254, which was signed into law on Tuesday 5/17/2023, taking immediate effect. This immediately cut off 80%+ of adult trans people in Florida from having their HRT refilled, because SB 254 uniquely prohibits only nurse practitioners from prescribing only gender-affirming medications.

This has already been in effect for 7 days now.

Trans adults in Florida have already been cut off from their HRT refills for a week now, including those of us who have been stable on these medications for years or decades.

This is VERY different from the general situation of trans youth care bans in 19 states, many still working their way through the courts.

This has *already* happened, to *all* of us: all trans adults in the third most populous state in the US.

The number of trans adults on HRT massively exceeds the sliver of the population that are under 18 and are prescribed puberty blockers or hormone therapy.

These laws, advanced under the pretext of 'protecting children', are now directly impacting a far larger group of people who are not children and are not subject to those pretextual concerns.

Other arguments about withholding public Medicaid funding for transition treatment also do not apply here: SB 254 does not even allow receiving this care through private insurance or paying cash out of pocket. The care isn't simply not covered - the care itself cannot be provided regardless.

What is happening in Florida requires special attention above the situation of trans youth care bans nationally. This is having a vastly larger impact quantifiably.

It will have worse impacts qualitatively as well: adults are responsible for taking care of and protecting trans kids and making sure they do not hurt themselves.

Whereas as a trans adult, we have no one standing guard at the brink but our own self and the void to which we are accountable.

These are the facts as they stand right now. These are the facts as they have stood for a WEEK and NO ONE nationally is putting any attention on this because there are 19 trans youth care bans all across the country going on, along with everything else targeting trans people and the LGBT community broadly.

This is a specific harm that is happening now and has been happening for 168 hours.

It is not a hypothetical issue to raise awareness of, as if it were at the stage of some proposal that needs to be fought back. This has already happened and is happening right now. Active harm is happening until this law is rolled back.

For all of Florida's history since the inception of the applicable regulatory and licensing bodies, nurse practitioners have been allowed to prescribe hormone therapy, testosterone blockers and other relevant gender-affirming medications.

That has been the case since I moved here in 2011. There was no reason why this wouldn't be the case. It's also the case in every other state.

This new law is a carveout of prescriptions when used for one purpose, gender-affirming care, from nurse practitioners specifically, in a way that has never been done before. It affects all ages.

It has immediately obstructed access to HRT prescription refills for more than 80% of TRANS ADULTS in Florida.

It has also prohibited first appointments for HRT via telehealth with in-state or out-of-state MDs or DOs - first appointments must be in person. This will require expensive and time-consuming travel that is beyond most trans people's means: driving to Georgia from Florida can take 8 hours.

This was an intentional targeting of almost all trans adults in Florida, and the means by which we have received our generic, FDA-approved medications for years. And it included closing every possible door that would let us find another way to keep taking the medications we have taken for...

Well, for me it was 3,891 days when the clock stopped

#tw forced detransition #detransition #Florida #SB 254 #trans care ban #adult trans care ban #transphobia #HRT #transition #transitioning #hormone therapy

[bidisastersanji]

Was thinking about French gendered terms and Zoro trying to suss out if Sanji’s into men and I had some thoughts and oops now i wrote a thing so here you go:

In the early days Zoro drives himself nuts trying to figure out if Sanji bats for his team too or not. He listens in intently whenever the conversation steers the cook towards talk of his past dalliances, but, just his luck, none of the words used indicate their gender. And there ain’t no fucking way in hell he’s asking him or anyone on the crew directly, lest they immediately understand how bad he has it for the stupid cook.

He bides his time, surely someday he’ll slip up and mention something about the people he’s slept with, right? And sure enough one day, at a feast, a drunken Usopp starts asking what people’s types are. His face still schooled into a nonchalant, neutral expression, he does his best to hide how desperately he waits for Sanji to speak up about his type, only to once again be met with more general terms about people- someone with a kind heart, dependable, an equal… he’s so concentrated on trying to pick out any gendered terms he doesn’t notice the weird look Nami throws his way at each new descriptor in Sanji’s list of desirable traits.

He’s always known Sanji speaks French, finding it endearing whenever the cook curses (even at him), whenever he goes into small little rants to himself, or the face he makes when he can only think of a word in French, rapidly snapping his fingers until it comes back to him. But it’s only when they get to a town where Sanji starts speaking to a vendor excitedly about his produce that he realizes just how much this thing, this endearing thing that’s always been there, truly affects him, and his face burns at how different the cook’s voice sounds when he actually speaks it, how enchantingly low and throaty the foreign syllables ring in his ears.

Attached to living another day, he decides that stealing a book from Robin is a bad idea, and resigns himself to ask her directly for a favour. He swallows his pride and asks if she can lend him a French learning book and a dictionary, curious as to whether he can learn it a bit, and understand whatever the hell Sanji keeps cursing and muttering about around him, and what kinds of insults he’s been throwing his way. With her ever mysterious smile plastered on her face, a chain of Robin’s arms retrieve two books from her library and hand them to him. “Do come to me if you have any questions, Mr. Swordsman. My French is pretty good if I do say so myself.”

He’s out of the room, red as a beet, before she even finishes that sentence.

Learning the curse words comes to him unsurprisingly quickly given how often he hears a litany of « putain de merde », « fait chier! » and « enfoiré! » spilling from the blonde’s distracting mouth.

He’s very happily surprised when he learns that French is apparently a heavily gendered language- and that he can glean someone’s gender just from whether the adjectives applied to the subject are masculine or feminine. Now if the stars aligned and the cook would talk about his love life in French…

Zoro starts by going through the basic first chapters, taking great pains to hide and quickly dissimulate it in his haramaki anytime someone walks in on him- especially the witch. It definitely changes his usual routine on his watch in the crows nest, he muses to himself.

Weeks, months pass, and he advances further in the lessons, his vocabulary slowly growing, while he often goes to his dictionary for the more… colorful insults Sanji throws his way. He never says a word of French himself, not knowing how he could even justify knowing any without looking suspicious, and pretty sure his pronunciation would be way off anyways. But he starts to really enjoy it, being able to understand even a tenth of the things Sanji thinks he can say without the crew (save Robin) understanding.

And then Saobaody happens. And now he doesn't have time to think about learning French, not if he wants to get strong enough. Not if he wants to protect his crew.

He's at the table with Mihawk and Perona when his mentor asks for the salt (Passez moi le sel, s'il vous plait), and he executes himself without thinking. A quiet settles over the room and he looks up to see those intense red eyes boring into him, unnerving as ever.

"You speak French?"

"Not really," he grumbles, not wanting more excuses to think of the shitty cook, and his shitty cooking, and his stupid curly brow.

"Then you will. Consider this a natural continuation of my trying to beat some manners into your brutish mind."

Two years later, and he can't wait for dartbrow to show up. His pronunciation may still be shit, but he can't wait to use his newfound skill to his advantage.

With his now solidified grasp of the language, he slowly begins to understand that what he at first though was a mistake on his part- that he must’ve missed a part of a sentence, or mixed up some words- was not an error at all. It turns out, some of the French things that Sanji yells at him aren’t insults at all.

In fact… they’re sometimes downright complimentary.

And that's definitely a problem for Zoro, who now not only needs to keep pretending that he doesn’t know what Sanji is saying, but needs to pretend he doesn’t understand it when Sanji screams at him that he has a “stupidly pretty face” or that his “tits are even bigger than Nami’s and how is that even fair” . He doesn't know what to make of it.

And then one day… the stars align.

It’s another post battle party, and the cook has been drinking a bit more than usual, a tightly gripped glass of wine in his left hand, a cigarette in his right. Zoro is nursing his very own barrel of Ale when he hears the conversation turn to more gossipy topics, as it usually does the further into the night they are.

“Chopper was really into that nurse on Zou, wasn’t he?” Usopp starts to poke fun at the crew’s youngest member, laughing as the reindeer turns all red and tries to deny it.

“I mean it makes sense that she’d be his type! Right Nami?”

Nami nods at him, grinning wickedly. “Yeah, not all of us can be into rich little blonde girls can we?”

“You’re right, some of us are into rich blue-haired princesses,” he shoots back.

"At least I had the balls to do something about it before I left her island-"

Zoro is already tuning them out when Sanji sits down next to Robin just a few feet away, across from him and the campfire, his tongue loosened from a few too many refills and unconsciously reverting to his native tongue.

"Ils ont de la chance, ces deux là." he gestures to Usopp and Nami. (They're lucky, these two.)

Robin smiles at the cook, wordlessly prompting him to continue his thoughts.

"Qu'est ce que je donnerais pour pouvoir avoir quelque chose de plus qu'un coup d'un soir." Sanji sighs wistfully, lighting his cigarette. (What I wouldn't give to have something more than a one night stand.")

Robin chuckles. "Ne sont-ils pas satisfaisants?" (Are they not satisfying?)

At this point Zoro has tuned everything out, intensely focused on hearing what the blonde has to say, and not at all feeling a small churn of jealousy in his stomach for whoever shared Sanji's bed. His heart initially skips a beat at the plural masculine pronoun ('ils') used by Robin before remembering its actual neutrality in this context, as it's referring to the ""one night stands", a masculine word. Damnit. French is so dumb.

"Tu sais bien que je ne dirais jamais de mal à propos des belles demoiselles qui ont bien voulu m'accorder ne serait-ce qu'un baiser ou une étreinte. J'ai de la chance rien que d'avoir pu exister en leur présence."

(You very well know I'd never say a bad word about any of the beautiful ladies who've been kind enough to give me even a kiss or an embrace. I'm lucky just to have existed in their presence.)

Zoro feels his heart drop, a heavy feeling settling in his stomach. He's always known the pervert cook has been into women. Why was this confirmation hitting him the way it was? His eye darts up at his two crewmates, confirming that only Robin has noticed his eavesdropping. She opens her mouth to say something but Sanji continues, the glow of the flames dancing against his flushed skin beautifully.

"Et dans mon état normal tu sais que, par respect pour les sensibilités d'une dame, je ne te divulge pas beaucoup de détails sur ceux qui font l'affaire le temps d'une nuit. "

(And in my normal state you know that, out of respect for a lady's sensibilities, I don't divulge many details about those who do the trick for a night.)

Ceux. That's a masculine word for "those", isn't it? Zoro shakily takes another sip of his drink.

The archeologist's smile widens. "Oh, ne te fait pas de soucis pour mes sensibilités. Je brûle d'envie d'en savoir plus, et ne m'épargne pas les détails..."

(Oh, please don't worry about my sensibilities. I'm burning to know more, and don't spare me the details...)

"Je ne suis que ton humble serviteur...si ça peut te faire plaisir" (I'm but your humble servant…if it pleases you). Sanji's cheeks seem a tad more flushed than before. "En vrai ce n'est pas qu'ils ne sont pas satisfaisants...c'est qu'il ne sont jamais... assez."

(It's not that they're not satisfying…it's that they're never...enough.)

"Ah? Et que recherches tu? Qu'est ce qui serait..."assez"?"

(Ah? And what are you looking for? What would be… "enough"?)

The cook exhales another cloud of smoke, and nervously looks around. His eyes settle on Zoro, and indecision flits across his eyes for a second before continuing. Zoro can feel his gaze, can almost make out the deliciously unfocused expression on the blonde's face in his peripheral vision as he continues speaking French. His heart feels like it might beat out of his ribcage.

"Lui." (Him.)

Zoro forgets how to breathe.

Part 2 up now , and part 3 part 4

#zoro x sanji #zosan #zosan fic #this was SUPPOSED TO BE A LITTLE TEXT POST #and then #AND THEN THIS HAPPENED #should I continue this #let me know in the tags #sanji x zoro #i can say french is dumb because i am #i have so many more thoughts about french speaking sanji #share yours with me pleaaaseee #zoro learns French #zoro learns french fic

[stararch4ngelqueen]

For the Jason drabbles, what about Jason conforting/taking care of reader while they are sick or even on their period?

We love a supportive man. What he receives he gives back tenfold.

“Show me where, baby.”

His hand roamed along your lower abdomen, imagining the soreness in your tense muscles. The spikes of pain that riddled you bedridden during your most heavy days.

“Here?” He applies pressure, fingers rubbing circles down just under your stomach, along the spot near your hip bone.

“Oww, yes,” you whine, wincing from the pain before being soothed by his massage.

Jason knew what periods were. He knew it’s a natural thing women dealt with. He’s worked with women for years, alongside doing his own research on it during one time you hadn’t left your bed for a while, thinking you were sick at first. It was an.. interesting conversation with Babs over what more he could do to help that the internet didn’t tell him about those relentlessly heavy cycles.

Pain like this took a lot longer to be rid of than a heating pad would allow. Especially the good quality ones with different settings.

Or, if you want something different, something fun that he wouldn’t mind shoving into the microwave for a minute, he’d get you a heatable, plush teddy bear. Or a duck. Or a menstruation crustacean.

He had no idea what the hell that was until you showed him on the site. You received whatever you chose in a box nearly three days later from Prime shipping.

Don’t freak out about blood. Accidents happen. If you got some on the sheets, along his lap when he held you, or on the couch, he could’ve cared less.

He wouldn’t even point it out, if you didn’t know. If you did notice it, he’d immediately shush you in an consolation attack, hiding your shameful expression in the crook of his shoulder.

“Shh, baby,” he’d murmur in your ear. “Easy. Nothin’ I haven’t seen before. S’alright, it’s okay.”

With advice from Babs, he cooks a lot more iron rich meals for you a lot more during this time. Usually, it’s been a team effort. You cook, he cleans up, you wash dishes together. Vice versa.

This week, regardless if you suffer from irregular periods, he does it all. He’ll do it even if he was a walking zombie, he doesn’t care.

Jason will not, no matter what you say, let you lift a finger if he knows you’re in pain. He’s an expert of masking his own, he can tell when you do it.

This even goes if you’re not used to being babied, get used to it. You tend to him for weeks at a time in a single month alone, this is his way of saying thank you for it all.

“Bed.” Jason demands, not even having to turn around from his attention on the stove to hear your shuffling to the kitchen.

“But I’m—“

“I brought you a drink,” he replies. A cup of warm raspberry leaf tea sitting on your bedside.

“No, I mean—“

“I know it hurts, but you can’t take anything until after you eat,” Jason peers over his shoulder, seeing his olive green shirt loosely draped over your body. “Go back to bed, Princess.”

“Can I stay here?” You plea, making his shoulders slump with a sigh. Try as he may, your weakened state makes him more pliable to your every request.

Might as well, since you’re already up. Stubborn girl.

“Go sit on the couch,” he sighs, knowing a few comforters were folded up on the cushions. “Get comfortable, an’ stay there. Dinner’s almost done.”

Jason has pills, plenty of them. From plain Tylenol, ibuprofen, to doctor prescribed muscle relaxers, morphine, etc. All thanks to Alfred.

Broken bones or severe, suture required injuries would be the only times Jason felt complied to take them. He knew addiction, watching it first hand and being involved in it at one point himself. He only took them when he absolutely, positively needed it.

For you, if you needed something stronger, he’d give you half of one pill, or a full, single pill at most. No way would you ever fall victim to such a cruel, toxic routine. He’d keep them locked up, for both your safety and his.

After your said hearty, iron rich meal, you remained on the couch snuggled up together like true lovers.

His guilty pleasure during your period of vulnerability was how much you relied on him for comfort. Positions varied, but his most favorite would be your body laying in his lap as he lounged on his reading recliner.

A gray comforter over your shoulders, some fuzzy socks on your feet. The furnace you called your boyfriend leaving you nice and toasty, his hands settling along your hair and back, preparing to soothe and massage when needed.

He adored when you needed him, he loved catering to you. You were his woman, his little nurse turned patient.

This also sort of gave him an excuse to skip out on patrols, but he never voiced the reasons why he’s gotten calls about it. He just didn’t feel like it, refusing the idea of abandoning you late at night, leaving him tense and unfocused on his routine on if you needed something, and he wasn’t there.

The others, with their detective mindsets could figure it out for themselves as to why Jason didn’t show up on a Saturday night. Or a Sunday, and definitely not a Monday.

He had important priorities, after all.

Just him, you; snuggly comfortable and content, and your herbal scented, menstruation crustacean.

#jason todd x y/n #Jason Todd #jason todd x you #jason todd x fem!reader #dc jason todd #gotham knights jason todd #jason todd x female!reader #jason todd x reader #jason todd dc

[homiesondaweb]

I headcanon that Aaron had absolutely ZERO interest in Miles when Jeff told him Rio was pregnant. He was actually pissed that his older brother was leaving the game and "getting right' for some chick and a baby. Thought Jeff was lame and didn't want part of his nephews life. You can't risk having someone close like that with the work they do. A wife, kids, hell them being siblings was too close to endangerment as it was.

But then Miles was here, and Aaron wasn't that much of an asshole to leave Jeff hanging or drowning. He was 1000% just gonna drop off some pampers, some blue onesies he snagged from GAP and some money then bounce about 3 weeks after Miles was born.

But then Jeff insisted his lil brother hold his son.

So, Aaron rolled his eyes and stiffly let Jeff adjust his hold on the baby boy, he was sleep anyway, was just gonna be a photo for Rio's cheap little flash camera.

But then Miles woke up with the cutest little-big yawn and stretch. His golden doe-like eyes wide and curious at this new face, he gives a hiccup as a greeting, smacking his baby gums and chubby lil lips.

"Uhp"

Aaron is just fucking gone, absolutely smitten, head over heels for this chubby chocolate baby with lil black curls, sunny eyes and a big ole head. It takes three hours and Rio telling him she's got to feed Miles for Aaron to finally relinquish that bébé.

He gets it. He gets wanting to get out the game. Wanting to wrap the world in cotton and bubble wrap and not even let the darkness of a nice night even glance at this Bundle of Good named Miles Alonzo Morales.

It only takes 3 month before Rio and Jeff get used to Aaron just strolling in, snagging lil homie and the diaper bag and telling them they will be back at 3pm sharp. The ridiculous amount of onesies, shits and beanies that match with something Aaron owns they receive. They get used to Aaron insist on carrying nephew like a football around the apartment before he's old enough to be tossed onto shoulder s. They get used to Miles mimicking Aaron as the man sofa-coaches though boxing matches and baseball games on the TV.

Aaron gets used to loving someone more than himself, more than the lure of blood diamonds and deity money.

Aaron isn't as good as he wants to be. And Jeff is getting too good, he applied for the graduated the police academy by the time Miles is 5. The Prowler has been active in New York for just as long.

Aaron loves Miles so much (no offense to Jeff) he's never loved someone and been loved so much that he doesn't deserve it. He can't have those golden Doe eyes look up at him or have those tiny brown hands be dirtied by his violent and grimy ones. Jeff Knows, Aaron Knows.

They don't ever get used to the riff. The distance that bother brother hate but that Jeff puts there anyway. Aaron was part of that world that Miles needed guarded from. They just hold their breaths as Miles acts like a flimsy little bridge because Aaron was too selfish to leave his life before they both got attached.

He regrets it until his last breath and last word when the last thing he sees is those Doe eyes crying for a bad guy like him.

Miles was the best of all of them, Aaron knew that from Miles beginning until his own end.

#anddd now im cryin on the club🥹 #miles morales #1610 miles morales #aaron davis #uncle aaron #spiderman across the verse #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #miles morales headcanons #Aaron Davis headcanon #spiderman into the spiderverse headcanons #angst #character study