#'you have to leave it all behind and i can keep you safe'

[starshideurfics]

Can’t go home alone

steddie, aob, hurt/comfort, established secret relationship

I just can’t leave this concept alone 🥰

Pain pulses over and behind and around Steve’s eye along with the beat of his heart. It isn’t as bad as it was even an hour ago, and definitely not as bad as when he and Robin puked their guts out in the movie theater restroom.

But his head hurts. His chest hurts. And he just wants to curl up in his nest and hope his parents don’t come home in time to see him like this. 

But the paramedic checking him says he’s definitely got a concussion. “Have you got someone who can keep an eye on you for the next 48 hours?”

“I… Yeah, I do.” Steve leans his head on Robin’s shoulder, needing the support as he’s hit with a sudden dizzy spell. He really doesn’t want to hurl again.

“Steve,” Robin whispers, “There’s no way my mom is letting me stay at your house for two days. Or letting you stay at mine. She would freak if I had an omega in my room.”

“I know,” Steve mumbles back. “‘Preciate the offer, Robbie, but I’ve got someone.”

“Steve. You can’t just shrug this off!”

“I’m not! I do have someone.” He pouts, breathes deep, her scent sour still from the truth serum leaving her system. His face is hidden in her short hair as he mumbles, “I’ll stay with Eddie.” Steve’s so tired. 

He just wants to rest his eyes a minute, but Robin shakes his shoulder.

“Eddie? Steve what are you talking about?”

“I’ll stay at Eddie’s. He’ll take care of me.”

Robin is struggling to focus, her brain not as scrambled as Steve’s, but after a day and a half without enough to eat or drink coupled with everything else, she’s just as tired and confused. “Eddie who?”

Tires screech to a stop at the edge of the Starcourt parking lot, the closest cars can come now with the barriers up. Steve whips his head around to look towards the noise and his head spins. But then he sees a familiar, shitty van, the driver’s door opening and closing loud enough for Steve to hear the slam over the surrounding hubbub.

Pushing himself to his feet, Steve starts walking towards the streak of denim and dark curls racing towards him. He’s grinning like an idiot as Eddie stops just short of barreling into him, the rangy alpha delicately cupping his face. “Steve, baby, what the hell happened?” His fingers brush gently along Steve’s brow, over the cut on his lower lip. “I saw on the news—about the fire—called your place a dozen times and no one picked up. Been half-crazy worrin’ over you, and it looks like I was right to.”

“M’sorry,” Steve mumbles, pressing his cheek into Eddie’s touch.

“No, baby, not your fault. I’m just glad it isn’t worse.” He pulls Steve close, guides his face to the scent gland at his neck, and kisses his hair. “I’ve got you.”

Steve begins to purr, feeling safe for the first time in two days. “Can we go home?”

“Yeah, let’s get the hell out of here.”

“Wait! I gotta tell Robin!”

“What? Is Buckley here, too?”

Steve doesn’t answer, just pulls out of Eddie’s grip and stumbles back to the ambulance where Robin is still waiting, wrapped in an emergency blanket, her blue eyes glued to him as he approaches. “You’re dating Eddie Munson?” The, ‘and you didn’t say anything about that when we were spilling our guts literally and metaphorically on the bathroom floor’ is implied.

“Yeah. Eddie’s the best. He’s really sweet and he’s got a big—”

“Please don’t make me barf on you by finishing that sentence. I do not need to know what you and your alpha get up to behind closed doors.” Robin reaches for his hand. “Just… Call me in the morning, okay?”

“Okay.” Steve squeezes her fingers before loping back to Eddie and snuggling into his boyfriend’s chest.

Eddie rubs at Steve’s back. “Ready to go?”

“Yeah. I’m hungry.”

“Want me to make you a grilled cheese when we get back to my place?”

“Uh-huh.” Steve nods enthusiastically, only to bring on a wave of nausea, forcing him to shut his eyes and put all his weight on Eddie.

“Maybe I should just get you into bed.”

Steve moans wordlessly, lets himself be manhandled into the van, barely noticing anything beyond the bumps in the road that make his head ache more.

Once they reach Forest Hills, Eddie plops Steve on the couch, brings him water and a bag of frozen peas for his eye, and turns his attention to frying two sandwiches.

After Steve is fed, Eddie helps him into the shower, washing his hair in the tiny bathroom, and getting rid of the dried blood and days’ worth of sweat. 

They dry off together, and Eddie bundles Steve into his bed, their naked bodies pressed close beneath the covers. “I’ve got you, baby,” Eddie whispers, dropping a kiss to Steve’s unbruised temple. “You rest. And if you need anything, let me know, I’ll get it for you.”

“I know,” Steve hums, snuggling impossibly closer. “Love you.”

“Love you too, baby. Now sleep.”

#steddie #omegaverse #fanfiction #alpha eddie munson #omega steve harrington #ficlet #stranger things fic

[scribbledghost]

Oh gosh, angsty idea I just need to ask... how do you Simon reacts to civilian!reader being captured?? And how do you think Simon reacts when reuniting with reader after rescuing them (b/c my brain won't accept any other ending than Simon and reader reuniting.) BTW, my brain didn't really have a particular version of Simon in mind while writing this... so you can picture fem!Simon, neighbor!Simon, etc. while responding :))))

It's been a minute since we've checked in on Neighbor!Simon, so let's do that, hm?

His first call is to Price when he finds your front door ajar and your house in disarray. He knows calling the cops would be next to useless, especially since it doesn't take a genius to piece together the kidnappers' motive - to get under Simon's skin, and lead him to them.

It takes all his resources to find you, including Price and Laswell pulling strings on his behalf. The 141 take on your rescue mission personally, though they're very much alone here. There is no backup, the military wasn't going to expend such resources rescuing a single average civilian.

Simon turns into a machine. He doesn't eat. He doesn't sleep. He only focuses on finding you and using whatever scraps of breadcrumbs he can in order to do so. He gets testy with the team. Any bit of lightheartedness from Soap or Gaz quickly gets crushed under Simon's heel. No time for jokes, not when you're out there somewhere, being put through god knows what.

His mind often wanders to Mexico. To Roba. Simon Riley is not a praying man, but he bends his own rule just this once. Not only to beg for your safe return, but to also plead that wherever you are (and whoever has you) is kinder to you than Roba was to him.

When they track you down, Simon is quick to start barking orders. Normally, Price would put him in his place, but he allows Simon to take the lead on this one. Simon has come too far to not be the one that rescues you. He makes quick work of whatever misguided group thought they could stand up to him; he leaves behind a trail of bodies with no remorse, and personally carries you out of the building and to a waiting helo.

Truthfully, I see him being completely devastated by guilt. Whoever took you did it to get back at him, and they found you by finding him. In his mind, it's the same scenario with his family all over again - someone he loves got hurt, and though he wasn't directly to blame, he can't deny that you would have been safe if he hadn't come into your life.

You wake up in a hospital bed some time later to see Simon sitting at your bedside, leg bouncing and arms crossed as he stares into space.

He all but freezes when you softly call for him, head snapping to you as he launches towards you. At first, he doesn't speak. The only thing he says is a soft "I'm so sorry" as he gently touches your cheek. He's a steady presence in the following days, making sure you're well taken care of, helping you when you start to get up and moving again.

Honestly, I think he might wrestle with himself a little bit here. Part of him wants to vanish; to leave you, move away, and break all ties with you in an effort to keep you safe. Sure, he'd spend the rest of his life thinking of you and yearning to have you back, but at least without any connection to him, you'd be free of the risk of this happening again.

And part of him wants the opposite. He wants you close, wants to keep an eye on you, wants to never leave your side. The risk would still be there, but he knows he'd be able to protect you better and he knows he'd be better-equipped to find you if anything were to happen.

In the end, he settles for the latter. And maybe he starts talking about condensing your two homes into one.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #ghost scribbles #neighbor simon

[rosedom]

"you have invited AETHER to play . . . genshin "impact"

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!male!reader, sub!ftm!aether, (gentle) spanking, daddy kink, begging, gratuitous praide + pet names, aftercare .

A/N : haha get it . . . genshin impact . . . impact . . . spanking . . . anyway.

"is that correct, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to confirm."

Aether’s soft, in every sense of the word. 

“You're tickling me,” he mumbles, batting away at your hands. You only laugh, returning with a vengeance to palm at the soft fat of his thighs. “I told you—”

“Hush, honey,” you coo with a squeeze to his legs. Aether’s soft, but he’s strong, too, all limber muscle and sweet honey scent. 

He's butter in your hands—and he wants you to spank him. The good boy, the sun in the sky; and he wants to be spanked. 

“This isn't a punishment. You know that, right?” 

His smile turns syrupy, and he pushes himself up—as he was, before, laid astride your lap—and twists, a rather silly position that leaves him half-turned up and reaching up to cup at your cheeks. “I know,” he murmurs. “I—I just—” he averts his eyes.

“You what?” You press him back down lest he hurt his back too terribly; he goes easily, letting you maneuver his body however you see fit, malleable as anything. 

He reaches for a pillow, too, shoves it under his head where it lies atop his folded arms. “I—” he coughs and smothers the sound into his elbow. “I know,” he repeats.

You hum, quiet, and take to smoothing the palm of your hand over the swell of his ass. It's a testament to the trust, to his relaxation, really, that he doesn't so much as flinch. 

He continues with the gentle coaxing of your whispers, of your gentle petting, “I don’t want it hard.” 

“I know,” you echo. “And I won't do them in succession.” 

Minutely, he nods. “You’ll be gentle?” 

“I'll be gentle.”

“Okay.” He seems soothed by that. Body melting further into yours, he sighs and huffs, then he says, all whisper-soft, “I want you to show me that—” he hiccups, “—that I’m yours.” 

“Of course you're mine,” you murmur. You pet tight yet gentle circles across his ass, the skin pillow-soft beneath your palm. It's a contradiction, how he begged you so sweetly to spank him; but you suppose, now, seeing the way he’s limp across your lap, that you understand why.

He wants to feel owned, protected, by you—wants to know that not every touch is meant to mar, meant to scar. But you still ask, “Are you sure?” 

“I—please,” he says instead. Okay. 

“Alright, honey.” You lift your hands, much to his chagrin as he whines pitifully at the loss of your heat, but you quickly soothe his sounds as you thread a hand through his hair. He lets you lift him, making another sound—albeit one of confusion, this time—when you tap at his folded arms. “Gimme your hands?”

He nods within your hold, shuffling around ‘til (with your help) he gets his arms and hands readjusted: now, they rest behind him, wrists crossed at the small of his back. “Okay?” 

Testing your hold, he swallows, heavy. “Okay,” he whispers. You grin. 

“Good boy. Do you need another pillow?” 

He’s silent for a moment, contemplating, before he quietly says, “Yeah, please.” 

(It took him so long to feel safe enough to tell you what he needs. Your heart swells—just like his ass does, so tantalizingly plush so close to where you can touch.)

You smother another “Good boy” into his back before you straighten yourself out and grab the pillow next to you to slide under his head. He burrows his face into it before he turns it to the side, breathing hotly into the air next to him. 

He whispers, “Okay,” again once he is situated. He’s tucked the two pillows under his ear; you gently pull the hair he's got mushed beneath him out, running your fingers through the curled strands until the braid’s fully unraveled. 

“There we go,” you coo, softly chuckling at Aether’s own small giggles. Soon enough, he’s making grabby hands for you—gestures for you to reinstate the hold you had of his wrists. You take them in hand and squeeze, once, a tender thing, and relish yourself in the goosebumps you watch erupt over his arms. “Are you ready?” 

“I’ve been ready,” he huffs; you snort at his antics. 

If he's gonna play it like this, then you're gonna play dirty. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweet thing,” you murmur, pitching your voice down low and seductive, the drawl heavy across your tongue. “Has daddy been neglecting his good boy?” 

Holy hell, does that get a reaction out of your good boy. He gasps, loud, and he pulls at your hands like he's making to get away—presumably to cover his face. Like this, however, he's stuck, held down; and where it should be fear that crawls up his spine, it's only molten, liquid heat. He stutters out your name, but—

“Ah, ah,” you tut—not unkindly. You spread your fingers wide over the expanse of his right asscheek, thumb and pointer dipping just-so into the cleft of his ass. “What should you be callin’ me right now, honey?”

(For a boy so soft, so shy, it is obscene, the next words to fall from those pretty, pretty lips.)

“Daddy,” he cries out, “spank me, please, I asked so—so—” His words hitch off into a hiccup, those strong hands of his curling and uncurling as he grasps at nothing but thin air. You coo once more, sliding the hand you have wrapped around his wrists to instead intertwine between the fingers of each hand; he’s kept pinned, still, but now he can hold onto you. “Please, daddy!”

You hum, and you tack on another “Good boy,” just for safe measures. (Is it such a crime to want Aether to know this fact—to want to hammer it into his skull, spank it into his pretty lil’ ass? All ‘til he knows nothing but the sweet, subtle burn of his skin, the gentle petting of your palm against his blushing rear... 

Ah. You’re getting ahead of yourself.) 

You retract your palm—awfully slowly, if Aether were to say—, and you almost have half the mind to tease him about the way your thumb comes back barely slick from where it had brushed his cunt. Feeling merciful—or perhaps eager—, you forgo it; instead, you murmur, “Tell me when it’s too much.”

He has only the time to nod, once, before your hand is upon him.

Aether jerks in your lap—more-so at the suddenness of it rather than pain. (You’re not here to hurt him, tonight.) A light rouge springs up across his skin from where you spanked him, and he’s already squirming, making breathy pants into the pillow. 

“Good boy, Ae,” you murmur, petting across the swell of his ass before you’re bringing your hand up to do it again—this time, his left cheek. He doesn’t move as much this time, now anticipating the touch against him. “You’re taking my spankin’ so well.” 

A third time, and his fingers squeeze yours. 

Four, five, six; Aether’s squirming anew, and your hand comes down a seventh time before you stop, taking hold of his hip to still him. “Easy, honey, you’ve been so good for daddy so far.”

“I—” He looks up at you then, his golden eyes wide and brimming with tears. You take once more to cooing at him, letting go of his hips—yet keeping both his hands held in your one—to cup his cheek, wipe away the thick, dribbling tears. He nuzzles into your touch, and he fucking begs, “harder? Please, daddy, I—I want it harder, wanna—wanna feel it t’morrow.”

“Oh?” You grin, dipping down to bump your head against his before immediately straightening back out, immediately bringing that hand away from his face to land hard on his ruddy ass. He yelps, back arching and toes curling, and you are back to soothing his skin with gentle strokes of your palm. “It’s okay, honey, I’m only gonna give you what you can take.” When he looks like he’s about to refute—and, really, it’s a pathetic look on him, all teary-eyed and blushing and meak—, you tut, murmur, “and nothing more, okay? This isn’t a punishment.”

He nods, and he whispers, “Not a punishment.” 

“That’s daddy’s good boy.” As a reward, you swat at him harder, just like he asked. Each spank is still endearingly tender, hitting against his ass evenly and distributed in such a way that no one spot will hurt more (or less, now that you think about it) than another. 

Nine, ten, eleven, and by the twelfth Aether begins to bawl. 

“Daddy,” he sobs, arms beginning to tug against the snug grip of his hands, pulling desperately at your five fingers twisted through his ten. “Please—please, hold me. I want to hold you!”

His words hardly have the time to settle in the air around the two of you as you release him and tug him up, turning him around and bundling him into your arms. He whines when his sore, swollen ass touches your thighs; you can feel the heat of his skin burning a warm brand into the tops of your legs. 

“I've got you, daddy’s got you,” you soothe, hugging him while his arms come up to clutch desperately at your upper back. 

It's then that you feel something... sticky, smearing itself into the thigh Aether’s favoring, the solid weight of him concentrated across your one leg. “I've got you,” you repeat, wondering if the play is over, now.

But Aether whimpers out, “Daddy—” this real meak, quiet lil’ thing, and you know that you're not. You're done spanking him, but you've yet to melt his body in abject pleasure. 

“Okay, okay, daddy’s got you,” you repeat before you nudge a hand down, falling between your bodies to the thatch of blond curls between his own thighs. Petting at his wet cock makes him jerk, belly arching into your own. “Good boy, does it feel good? My sweet boy.”

“Feel so good,” he whimpers, hips humpin’ your gentle finger. You give him what he wants readily, letting him chase his pleasure on your hand ‘til you slip in two fingers—an easy stretch, both gone right to the hilt and your third knuckles—as he curls his body into you even further. “‘m so close.” 

Curling your fingers into his g-spot, you coo, “Already?” He nods vehemently into your throat, hands shaking where they clutch at you. “C’mon, then, cum for me, sweet thing. Cum for daddy.” 

Like his spanking, Aether's orgasm is an easy, gentle thing. 

It runs through his limbs syrupy slow; it starts at the epicenter, his small cunt, and spreads out across his body in a way that makes him melt into you.

And, God, his sounds. He makes these lil’ whimpers that he smothers into your skin, each one a hot gust against your throat. He's mumbling incoherently, too, quiet Daddy’s that get lost in his heavy breaths. 

Pitching your voice soft—soft as cotton and smooth as butter—, you coax him down from his high: one that he's already falling off from like waves against the shore. 

(If he was the ocean, his orgasm would be the tide: an expected thing, slow n’ steady that covers the sand in its blanket and retreats, leaves the beach uncovered and bare. 

The sand is exposed, vulnerable. Small shells washed ashore, clams and the likes out in the open without the water to hide them.

You find the beach at its most beautiful, like this: your Aether is no different.)

He finds the wherewithal to murmur, then, his voice still damnable meak—meak in a way that makes you want to protect your sweet boyfriend, your heart all twisted in knots at the trust he gives you—, “th’nk you, daddy.” The way he says daddy, though, is what makes you laugh softly, kiss at his forehead.

“Of course, sweetheart,” you say. You’ve got your fingers already slid out from the grip of his swollen cunt—swelled up in arousal, in the rush of blood from his orgasms: not so different from the ruddy swell of his ass, reddened by the spanking—, soothing his lil’ mewl at the loss of being filled (even just slightly.

After all, it was only two fingers you had pressed into him, unraveled him with.) “Up you go, c’mon,” you tack on: rhetorically, of course, because you’re wholly in control of his lax body. “Let's get you cleaned up, hm?” 

He nods minutely into your chest, curled up in your arms akin to a small kitten. He’d purr if he could, wrapped up with you, pressing littering kisses across your collarbones. 

Into the bath he goes, too, the tide left to lap up at his body as you set him in. He whines when you part from him—a sound you soothe with a promise of, “I’ll be right back, honey.” 

That right back is only a minute’s time, if that—enough to set aside a soft, fluffy towel and grab Aether’s favorite soaps—, but you return to see him with his head perched above crossed arms, pouting up at you from the lip of the tub. 

Laughing lightly, you poke at his nose with the bottle you hold, the glass cold against his still-blushing skin. His face scrunches up, but he doesn't move away; he's still floating, all sex-drunk (finger-drunk? He didn't take cock, tonight) and content. 

You place your other hand on his shoulder, kindly pushing him back with a whisper of, “Scooch.” 

The water of the bath sloshes when you get in—some of it surely falling back the tub's lip and splattering on the ground—, but you make no move to clean it yet as Aether immediately falls back into the spread of your legs, his back a warm brand to your chest. 

In the end, it's a lazy bath. You tenderly run a cloth between his thighs, kiss at his temples when he quietly whimpers at the oversensitivity; and, after it's all said and done, he's wrapped in that fluffy towel, dozing off in your arms right there on the ensuite's floor.

Daddy's here; and he's staying here. 

nnnnn pretty boys who wanna call me daddy <33

17 APR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#i luv gentle d/s dynamics dkgjdskc #it's so so sweet and endearing and lovey-dovey . . . #(´▽`ʃ♡ƪ) #sub aether #aether smut #aether x reader #aether genshin impact #sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin x reader #male reader #but unspecified body parts !! #dom reader

[wantonlywindswept]

adopted baby Guard Din idea that I am never going to write

because it would involve logistics and quiet moments and idle life which I am very down for reading but cannot for the LIFE of me actually sit down and write

So the war ends, Palps is outed as a Sith and an asshole and dies somehow, and the Senate eventually decides that the clones do count as people and thus are allowed to leave the GAR if they want. Give the bureaucrats another few years and they might even give out backpay and citizenship, so long as you stay in the service--wait what do you mean the entire Guard is resigning. What do you mean they've already left orbit?? WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERE ARE NOW MILLIONS OF FILES ON THE HOLONET ABOUT THE SENATE'S SHADY DEALINGS???

Guard, collectively: lol cya suckers

Fox is of course one of the last ones out, and since this was all planned on the down low, everyone's been split into groups so they can take commercial flights, since they're not about to be accused of stealing ships. (They also leave their weapons and their armor behind, in a giant macabre pile in the middle of Corrie HQ. Even their helmets, their faces, they discard: it's time for a rebirth.)

He and Thorn and a few other Corries have a stopover on some tiny station, waiting a week for a delayed transport to arrive, and in the meantime they're approached by some locals who just fled the planet below. Separatist remnants attacked their homes, forcing them to leave everything and everyone behind; can the big strong clones do anything about it?

The Big Strong Clones: Oh shit we finally get to kick some Seppie ass? Sign us the FUCK up.

The eager group does not include Fox, who could not care less about the Separatists and would very much like to finally catch up on his sleep. Unfortunately that means that the group that goes down to the planet is Unsupervised.

(Thorn does not count as supervision. Thorn, bereft of Senate oversight, has finally allowed his Inner Chaos Gremlin to fully emerge. Thorn needs more supervision than the shinies.)

Thorn, three days later, waking Fox from half-hearted sleep by dropping an entire natborn child on him: Hey boss, look what we found! None of the refugees claimed him, so we called dibs. Can we keep him? Fox, staring at the child: ...

Din, staring back: ...

Fox: ...no..?

Din: *sad but understanding big brown eyes*

Fox: Nevermind this is my child now.

Din has gone from two parents to one parent and hundreds of overprotective brothers.

Eventually his group makes it to their destination, Din in tow. I am uncertain of what the destination is but it is a planet that is as far away from Coruscant that the Corries could find. I am tempted for Tatooine not because I like Tatooine (I share Anakin's loathing of sand and deserts) but because Luke's description of Tatooine in ANH was 'if there's a bright center to the universe, this is the planet the furthest from'. 

Corries, hearing that: Fuck it sounds perfect. 

Anyway they make it to Tatooine, there is probably purchasing of some shitty land/buildings that nobody wants out in the wastes bc crime, scum, villainy, etc, but it's not like they have problems taking care of anything that tries to mess with them. 

Where did they get the funds?

Shh don't ask about it.

Stone takes up moisture farming. Thire takes up farming-farming. Thorn shoots gleefully at anything that shows up unannounced within a ten-mile radius. Literally everybody dotes on Din. There are a surprising amount of peaceful days.

Eventually some dumb shiny goes: Hey don't kids need friends? Shouldn't we set up some playdates for him or something?

The shiny is not called dumb for asking the question, but they are called dumb for thinking that the question would only ever be taken rhetorically. Fox disappears for two weeks and then comes back with a black eye and a yowling hissing Boba tucked under one arm, looking stupidly pleased with himself.

(Boba is also pleased to be back with people he knows will keep him safe. Boba will not admit to this under threat of death or dismemberment. Boba is a SERIOUS SCARY ADULT BOUNTY HUNTER.)

Boba also decides he will be Mortal Enemies with Din, which after about ten minutes of meeting him morphs into If Anyone Hurts Din I Will Kill Everyone In This Room And Then Myself because all clones be the same, really.

Din has gained another brother/bestie. (Or potential future boyfriend, whichever floats your boat.)

Somehow they still end up overthrowing the Hutts.

Officially the GAR knew and knows nothing about the Guard leaving Coruscant as soon as the metaphorical paint was dry on their sentient status.

Unofficially Fox's batch harangues him every single day for photos of his new kid(s). They eventually show up unannounced, demanding time with their nephew. (They are shot at by Thorn.)

Din gains five new uncles.

The batch proudly show pics and holos to their battalions. Din gains millions of new uncles.

Fox finally gets a full night's sleep.

#tcw #tcw fanfiction #commander fox #din djarin #coruscant guard #someone else should write that #tho tbh it's mostly written here just in rambling infodump form #btw this is half-inspired bc red is both baby din and fox's color #din is nonverbal for a little while because Trauma #and gets nicknamed 'Kit' #Fox refuses to be pleased about this #Fox is extremely smugly pleased about this

[jujumin-translates]

★ Main Story | Act 13 - Budding Spring | Chapter 2 - Storm Before a Storm

Towa: --.

???: …This yours?

???: Oh, a flier for Magicians’. That’s nostalgic.

Towa: (Huh, that voice… nonono, wait, wait…)

???: …Hey.

Towa: (No way, this can’t be real, is it really…?)

Masumi: ?

Towa: O-Oshi… w-wa- uwagh…

Masumi: What?

Towa: (Oh God, his face is so cool… I can’t look at him directly… but I want to. Huh, but what is he doing here… I’m seriously gonna die of an oshi overdose…)

Chikage: Are you alright?

Towa: P-Probably not…

*Collapses*

Masumi: Wait--.

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Towa: …Nm?

Izumi: Thank goodness. Are you okay?

Towa: I…

Izumi: You collapsed near our theater. One of our troupe members had to carry you here.

Towa: Collapsed…

Towa: (One of their troupe members… near this theater…)

Towa: W-Wait, this is…

Izumi: Hm? This is MANKAI Theater-- MANKAI Company’s, our theater company’s theater.

Towa: !! This is… this is it? For real!? Like I’m not dreaming!?

Izumi: Whoa.

Masumi: Hey, don’t just touch her without permission.

Towa: A-Aaauh~... so cool… you’re still so cool even when you’re looking at me… I wanna take a pic… I wanna burn this image into my eyes…

Masumi: What?

Tsuzuru: Masumi, how is he?

Itaru: Oh, he’s awake.

Sakuya: Are you okay? Do you need us to get you some water?

Towa: !!

Towa: The actual legit Spring Troupe…!? With all of its members…!!

Citron: Could you be a fin of ours?

Tsuzuru: You mean a fan?

Towa: Citron-san mispronouncing something and Tsuzuru-san correcting him live…!

Itaru: You make it sound like you’re getting to peek behind the curtain.

Towa: U-Um, I’ve been a fan of MANKAI Company for forever…!

Towa: I really love the whole company, but I’m especially a Spring Troupe oshi, um… ah.

Towa: Uwaah, I’m sorry, I’m just so nervous in front of all of you!

Itaru: Nice, got any particular oshi within Spring Troupe?

Towa: --.

Masumi: ?

Towa: U-Umm, I got addicted to MANKAI Company because of your performances in Magicians’, especially Masumi-kun’s…

Tsuzuru: Masumi, say thank you.

Izumi: Why don’t you do something like shake his hand?

Towa: Huh!? No, wait, I don’t have a handshake ticket or anything, but are you sure!?

Itaru: Nah, we don’t have a system like that.

Izumi: C’mon, Masumi-kun.

Masumi: …Nice to meet you.

Towa: Uwaahh… you’re always so cool… I’m never washing this hand again…!

Citron: That is unclean!

Towa: A-Ah, right! Masumi-kun, can I get your autograph!?

Masumi: …Annoying.

Towa: That’s the only other thing I want…! It’ll be like an heirloom…! Please! Without proof, this moment will just be like an illusion…!

Chikage: Leaving evidence with a signature?

Itaru: I mean, it tracks.

Izumi: He’s kept that flier with him all this time. Please sign it for him, Masumi-kun.

Masumi: Ughh…

Towa: Ah, my name’s Towa! “To” like peach and “wa” like peace!

Masumi: …Here.

Towa: Thank you so much! Thank you so, so much! Um, um, um, can we take a selfie together!?

Masumi: What?

Tsuzuru: He’s sure coming on strong.

Citron: It is unusual to see someone be so influenced by Masumi!

Sakuya: It’s kinda nice.

Izumi: Hehe, this kind of opportunity doesn’t come by often, so why don’t you take a picture with him?

Masumi: Why does it have to be me…

*Camera clicks*

Towa: Thankyousososomuch!

· • —– ٠ ✤ ٠ —– • ·

Izumi: Well then, get home safely.

Chikage: Be sure to rest as soon as possible if you start feeling unwell.

Towa: I’m really sorry about everything. Thank you so much.

Itaru: Later.

Towa: You’ll always have my support, so keep up the good work!

Masumi: Yeah, yeah.

Towa: (Aaahh… I wanna bring this atmosphere back with me… but I need to get home…)

Towa: (Ummm, which direction is the station in again…?)

Izumi: Do you not know how to get to the station?

Towa: Ah, I’ll just look at my app while heading home, so I’m good!

Sakuya: I’m guessing you don’t live around here, right?

Towa: I recently just moved away from the countryside… and I’m attending a high school around here in the spring.

Towa: That’s why the only way I’ve ever been able to see MANKAI’s performances is through streams…

Izumi: I see.

Tsuzuru: That’s the great thing about the streams. It means kids like you who live far away from us can become fans.

Towa: Until I saw MANKAI’s Magicians’ performance, I had only seen plays at school events.

Towa: Back then, I was kinda just eh about it, but then I got smacked in the face with your performance of Magicians’ and was completely blown away…!

Towa: It was so much fun, I was like man, this is the best thing ever!

Towa: And then the more I learned about Masumi-kun and Chiakge-san and your theater company and Veludo Way, the more obsessed I got…

Towa: I can’t believe that I’m really here standing on Veludo Way, the place I’ve always dreamed of being, and that the Spring Troupe I’ve only seen through a screen is really right here in front of me.

Towa: I was also so excited to have gotten to see some theater live during a street act. I’m so glad I found the courage to come here…

Chikage: So you collapsed because you were so moved by it all?

Masumi: Fair enough.

Citron: We are also happy that you are happy!

Izumi: It’s amazing that you moved to Tokyo for high school. Was it for any reason in particular?

Towa: Umm… it’s really nothing that special or anything…

Towa: I don’t really have anything at all right now… I was hoping to find something like that here…

Towa: Ah, right. Are there troupe members at the theater even when they’re not performing?

Izumi: Yeah, we’re in the process of planning a new event for Spring Troupe. We were having a meeting at the theater since that’s where it’s going to be held.

Towa: Gotcha… Veludo Way really is amazing.

Towa: The troupe members really do exist here, doing all kinds of activities and doing theater right on the street during street acts…

Sakuya: It really is a fun place, isn’t it?

Towa: Yeah! I wanna experience even more live theater. I can’t wait to actually see a MANKAI Company performance live!

Izumi: --.

Izumi: Hey, why don’t you come to our next event?

Towa: For sure! I’ll get going now!

Citron: Make sure you do not get glossed~!

Tsuzuru: It’s lost.

Towa: …Ah.

Itaru: He’s impressed by every little thing.

[ ⇠ Previous Part ] • [ Next Part ⇢ ]

#a3! #a3! translation #towa ichinoe #sakuya sakuma #masumi usui #tsuzuru minagi #itaru chigasaki #citron #chikage utsuki #// towa having a mankai play that rewired his brain he’s just like me fr #also PLEASE listen to the voices for this chapter the noise towa makes when he meets masumi is SO funny

[mrsmaxwelllord]

Summer Storm

Pairing: Harwin Strong x Martell Lady!Reader

Summary: Harwin leaves King's Landing to protect the three youngest princes from the dangerous rumor circulating in the Red Keep. Upon arriving home, he discovers that his father had another plan to put an end to the rumors once and for all.

or, Harwin marries a Martell who can see ghosts.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: For now, only Arranged Marriage.

A/N: I think it's important to make two things clear before you start reading.

There is no Harwin/Rhaenyra in this story. Harwin returned to Harrenhal with the intention of putting the past behind him and the relationship they had is only briefly mentioned.

The Reader can see ghosts and has visions of the future. This is very important for the plot I have in mind, but it will be explained better in the following chapters (It will be important to the plot but have it in mind it isn't the central point, I intend to explore the relationship between the two more).

The only reason Harwin Strong agreed with his father about returning to Harrenhall was to protect Princess Rhaenyra’s children. His sole goal was to protect their honor and keep them safe from the nasty rumor about their parentage. 

He knew he had made an irreversible mistake by letting Ser Criston get under his skin — this was exactly his goal, he realized later —, losing his temper and giving him the reaction he was looking for sealed his fate at King's Landing. He also knew that he had to part with the boys, by staying he would only allow the rumor to grow and strengthen. Even though he loved them so dearly, it was the right thing to do. 

Harwin didn’t question his father any longer and left. The goodbye was particularly hard with Jacaerys and Lucerys, with little Jofrey it cut especially deeper for he would not be allowed to see him grow as he had had the chance with the two eldest boys. The farewell with Princess Rhaenyra was strange in a way he didn't imagine could be possible, not after so many years in camaraderie: she was awkward and had the expression of someone who wanted to confess something, but could not do it. In the end, she only looked at him with teary eyes and nodded her goodbye. He spent the whole trip home thinking about this interaction, wondering what it meant.

Only when the five towers of Harrenhal were visible in the distant horizon and he could see the Gods Eye’s waters,  did his father break the news to him. He was to marry. He was to marry that very same day, as soon as he set foot at the castle in matter of fact. 

He was not only to marry a Dornish Noble, he was to marry a Martell. Not one of the ruling Lord Martell’s children, since he had made clear — not with his words but with his actions thoroughly King Viserys’s reign — that he would not get involved with Westeros’ society, but a not-quite-distant relative. One important enough to join Houses with the King's Hand without being an embarrassment or cause mockery.

Harwin was beside himself with rage. He did not come back to Harrenhall to marry, certainly not to someone he never heard of before. He thought his father old fashioned and archaic for even considering an arranged marriage. They were almost through the castle gates when he calmed down enough to be able to hear the arguments his father was making.

“It will not be enough to just leave, Harwin,” Lyonel reasoned. “I fear nothing we ever do will be enough to silence the whispers, but this could be a new beginning. By marrying we give the people a new narrative and, if the seven heavens bless us, it will make them forget. At the very least, it’ll be something new and exciting to talk about. They will spare the boys.”

It was exactly what Harwin wanted — and desperately needed — to hear: that he could undo the harm he did to the boys. He felt so guilty for unleashing his anger on Ser Criston that his hands started to shake even when thinking about that odious day. So when Lord Lyonel explained to him the proposition in this particular light, he was glad to take it. He would do just about anything for the boys. 

He accepted the marriage and promised his father he’d compromise to learn to be the Lord of Harrenhal. A good, just Lord. And a respectable husband also, even though this part of the promise was more complicated to comply with.

Harwin remembered his mother then. His parents' marriage was also arranged and his mother would occasionally tell him, Larrys stories about her coming to this very same castle. Harrenhal was rumored to be haunted, it was said these halls were full of ghosts and misfortunes, that the ruling lords were cursed to fall every century. Lady Strong never told her sons how afraid she was of the prospec of living in those dark walls, yet they could hear her hidden and forgotten fear; Harwin, who was raised to be Lord Strong one day, remembered one evening swearing to protect his future wife from the curse. A silly thought from his boyhood, he dismissed it. Yet, when thinking about what his bride would be like, he knew it was likely that the same fear could make itself known in your heart. 

Harwin held no grudge against his betrothed, he knew it was likely that the choice was also not yours to make. You were in the same position, to be married to a stranger, so he made another commitment. To himself, this time. Like his parents’ marriage, he wanted this one to work out and, for this, you would’ve to work together and trust each other. But there would be no love involved, it was not possible, he already had his children and his priority was their well being. People would expect him to have heirs of his own one day, but this was a topic for the future. For the time being, he only had the heart to work one compromise at a time.

The first time Harwin met his Wife, he didn't see you entirely: you were wearing a thick veil that covered all of your face and your dressing concealed  the rest of you. Harwin's acknowledgment of Dorne was limited to what the Maesters told him in his youth and what people said in King’s Landing about their costumes, but upon one look at you it was clear you were making a statement. You were clearly dressed in Dornish fashion, a thick satin fabric in a deep shade of blue that he realised was supposed to match his House’s color. The dress did not lack beauty, with its golden suns embroidered on the hems and also the extra piece of gold jewelry you wore in your neck, wrist and fingers. Harwin wondered if the fabric of the dress was enough to keep you warm on this winter day and if all the pretty little details were to spur him on or to show the power of House of Martell. 

The first meeting concerned him immensely. His intention was to study you and decide what course of action he should take based on his first impression of you, but you only managed to confuse him further than he already was with you.

Upon being introduced to you, you were only polite and even-tempered, he dared think you were a bit too… placid. He couldn’t make anything out of your replies, it felt to him you only answered with what you thought he wanted to hear. Which he also thought was in contrast to your so bold choice of clothing.

He sat beside you at the main table and tried to have a meaningful conversation with you — as meaningful as a conversation with someone you know nothing about can be — yet got so frustrated that the only thing he could do to alleviate it was to drink the wine. It was not that you lacked intelligence in your little observations and answers, but Harwin could tell you were hiding something behind your clever words. It was like you were trying to dodge him yet it only made him so much more curious about you. 

When it was time for the bride and groom’s dance, he realised what was wrong. For most of the feast, you drank and ate very little and your hands were always hiding in your lap under the table. Only when he held your hand did he realize you were shaking and cold. So very cold.

You were just as nervous as he was, that comforted him somehow. To know he wasn’t alone in all his mess. 

Harwin danced with you for as long as he could, which wasn’t really much. Yet it was enough to find out the two of you strangely could synchronize well together. He still could not see your face under the veil, but he had a feeling you smiled back at him when the song stopped.

The time for the wedding ceremony arrived faster than you expected it to.

Even though there were fireplaces alight everywhere in the hall, you felt cold. Your hands, which had briefly stopped shaking while you were dancing with Harwin, started shaking again with more force than before. You were terribly nervous, thanking the Gods for the veil preventing your expression from being revealed to the crowd watching you. But soon, that too would be taken from you.

The ceremony itself was short and according to the customs of the Faith of the Seven, after you excused yourself and changed into a proper wedding dress and a yellow cloak symbolizing the House Martell. It happens at the Sept of the Castle, with a rather old Septon blessing the union. After the seven vows were made, it was time to exchange the clocks. Since your father couldn’t come with you to the Riverlands, it was your uncle who removed the clock from your shoulders; then Harwin carefully placed the blue cloak on your shoulders and lifted your veil. 

You held your breath and made sure to look in his eyes to study the expression on his face. The veil was only an old custom, one you were partially glad for, but mostly afraid of. It conceals your expression but also your appearance, not that the way you looked was of any significance. In fact, your appearance didn't make any difference at all for the marriage, if Ser Harwin disapproved of it the union would happen anyway.

To you, the veil only served to make the wedding kiss an even more anxiety-filled moment, the anticipation was killing you and you suspected your soon-to-be husband felt the same way — if his endless questions about you and your likes were of any concern. If he thought of you ugly, you only wished that he could not show it in front of all those watching eyes— it would be your first kiss and the start of your life as a Lady, it would hurt too much to watch his face squirm with displeasure. 

To your relief, there was no squirm of displeasure from Harwin. His eyes initially only looked at yours, then it ran through your face… Your eyebrows, your hair, your cheeks, your nose, then finally your mouth. In which he fixated for as long as he could before he looked up into your eyes again and followed with the ceremony.

“With this kiss I pledge my love” both you and Harwin say in harmony and he leans down to kiss you. His lips are soft and sweet and he kisses you slowly, carefully, with one hand he holds yours and the other he guides your face up to better kiss you. It lasts only a moment yet it leaves you feeling inebriated.

“…and take you for my lady and wife” Harwin finishes, with the delicious thick accent of his.

“…and take you for my lord and husband.”

The feast that followed the wedding was extravagant. With delicious food made in both RiverLand’s and Dornish’s costumes to please both parties, even though your own party was small and consisted only of your uncle, a few knights, and some maids that had come to serve you in your new home. You had brought with you a few barrels of Stronwine as a gift to your father-in-law and he seemed to thrive in its rich flavor and high alcohol content. 

The guests, most of them Lords from Riverlands and friends to Lord Strong, were happy, singing and dancing to the songs. Your brother-in-law was nowhere to be seen. Your now officially husband was seated by your side at the main table and, just like before, kept on asking you all kinds of questions.

You thought it was a good sign, the questionnaire about your family, friends and life in Sunspear showed interest in you. Yet it was difficult to answer it all, you did not know his character just yet and preferred to keep the more delicate matter to yourself until you were sure he was trustworth; that he would not judge and make your life hell. So you kept your replies neutral and tried to keep the conversation about him; you asked him how was being Captain in the City Watch, what was life at the Red Keep like, what he enjoyed doing in his spare time, if he had any. You considered asking him about Princess Rhaenyra and her children, but decided against it. You thought it wise not to corner a hounded man — not when he was known as Breakbones.

You danced with him again and again during the party, actually enjoying his company and quickly quit. Despite your concerns, because you knew he had lost his temper and attacked the Queen’s sworn shield, he seemed to be a gentle and composed man. Harwin is devastatingly more handsome than you expected him to be, his hair is half up allowing you to better enjoy the strong features of his face. His clothes were a dark shade of blue that almost matched his eyes and gave him a solemn aura, you couldn’t help but notice.

When it was time for the bedding ceremony, you were beside yourself with worry. You knew what to expect but the prospects of it did not please you, yet, once again, Harwin eases your anxiety and just leads you to his chambers without drawing attention from anyone instead of following the traditional ceremony.

He leads you to the Kingspyre Tower, where the castellan’s chambers are at, it is the tallest tower and it takes a long time to get up there. Harwin uses this time to ease your worries with comforting words, he says he does not wish to see you concerned. And it almost helps, it is almost enough for you to believe his words.

Once in his chambers, he locks the door from the inside and seats you at the biggest canopy bed you’ve ever seen. You wait for him to start, not sure of what exactly he expects of you, but he leaves you in the bed alone and goes to fix glasses of wine in the bedside cabinet. You decide to take matters in your own hand and quickly unlace the dress, leaving you only in your chemise, then you make yourself more comfortable and wait for him to turn. 

When he does turn, he is taken back by your lack of clothing, but goes to your side and gives the glass. Unlike in the feast, you drank almost all of it. You need the bust of confidence.

“Are you still nervous, m’lady?” he asks with a sweet smile, his tone has that accent of his you came to adore. 

You decided to go with the truth this time.

“Yes, my lord. I find it difficult to feel anything else at this time.”

Harwin takes a long sip from his cup and takes your hand in his.

“I meant it when I said you had nothing to worry about.”

“Thank you” you say, because words are failing you by now. Your hands are shaking again, but Harwin looks at you so gently it becomes hard to believe he’d willingly hurt you. You want to trust him, you truly do.

“I’ll be honest with you” he starts, suddenly looking away and, for a moment, you believe he’ll talk about the young Princes. “I want this marriage to work.”

“As do I, my lord..” you reply, confused.

“We’ll be Lord and Lady of Harrenhal one day and it’ll not come without difficulties. If we want to rule with honor and dignity, we’ll have to understand and respect each other. I want us to work together.”

“I want the same, Harwin.”

“I must tell you a few things then, so we know where we stand. Set some boundaries.” 

“Is it about Princess Rhaenyra’s children?” you finally ask, catching up to his meaning.

It caught him off guard, he turned to you and his expression tells it all. The conformations of the histories you’ve been listening to about your husband. You smile sadly. You had really hoped it was all just rumors.

“So what they say is true.”

Harwin wants to deny it, but he decides to start this marriage with honesty so he simply nods. And it is as a huge weight is lifted from his back, he sighs deeply as if he is finally able to breathe again.

“Do you honestly wish to work together?” you ask him, looking into his eyes. “It’ll take time and a great deal of effort, but I think that if you’re willing to, we can manage it.”

“There’s nothing I want more.”

...

Notes: Couldn't help but write my own piece about the beloved Harwin "Breakbones" Strong. He just screams "arranged married plot"! and I could not simply make it easy from him!! I want to see him suffer a bit.

This will have a follow up!

Let me know what you think!

#harwin strong #harwin strong fanfiction #harwin strong x reader #harwin strong x you

[steventhusiast]

Take your pick:

+ Heist AU

+ Fantasy AU

+ Soulmates AU

Look, I really like AUs.

Thank you if you do one!! ❤️❤️

hi! i'll dooooo soulmates au :D take this rambly lil mess. also sorry this took so long, i forgot about the prompts in my inbox oops

-

The scariest thing about finding your soulmate is the possibility of being wrong. Or, it's been the scariest thing for Eddie, anyway.

For some people, it's easy; Gareth's soulmark is on his forearm, so it's visible all the time, and it's also so unique and specific- Eddie's certainly never seen anyone else with something as specific as a lobster holding a scythe for a soulmark. Maybe Gareth's soulmate is super into fishing and also is a goth? Or a farmer? He hasn't met them yet, but when he does! He'll at least know for sure that they're his soulmate.

But for Eddie? He has a simple cartoon-ish sunshine on his upper abdomen within a larger circle. So he's always wondered, how will he know? For certain, he means. Surely anyone can be associated with sunshine.

Then he meets Steve. Sunshine personified.

And he spends the first few months of knowing him uncertain. They have chemistry, sure, and Steve is... bright. Like, lights up a room as soon as he enters, perfect smile, eyes sparkling no matter how he's feeling, can cheer anyone up with a little shoulder nudge and a soft 'you okay?' kind of bright.

Eddie just can't be wrong about this. Because his parents were wrong, and look where they ended up. Unhappy, unloved, and dead. (Maybe not directly, but still). They weren't right for each other and they realised too late that the angel wings on his dad's shoulder weren't for his mom, and the devil horns on his mom's shoulder weren't for his dad. But by then Eddie had already been born, so they stayed together, and everyone suffered for it.

He can't go through that. Not again. Not first-hand.

Even when he and Steve first start dating, Eddie finds himself holding back. It's like his heart is inside a safe with a padlock keeping it shut, and that safe is in a locked cage, and that locked cage is hidden at the back of his ribcage.

Obviously, because Steve is so lovely and the embodiment of light, he manages to find it. He gets past each layer of Eddie's defences until his heart is there on a platter for him, vulnerable and beating oh-so-fast.

But it's slow going.

When Steve reveals the soulmark on his upper abdomen, a simple crescent moon with a slightly larger icosagon behind it, it chips away at Eddie's defences a little. But only a little, because his parents thought their marks matched too.

When Eddie can't stop smiling around Steve, and finds himself gushing about him to his friends, they're chipped away at a little more. Little moments like that do most of the work.

But the final, final thing that unlocks that safe protecting his heart, is accepting that uncertainty. Maybe Eddie will never truly find out.

They're not his parents, though. They talk to each other when things are wrong, and neither of them leave unannounced for days at a time, and neither of them are addicted to hard drugs, and they're actually happy with each other. Like, truly happy in a way Wayne promises Eddie's parents never were.

Maybe Steve's not the universe-approved sunshine to Eddie's moonlight. But he's okay with that.

He'll love him anyway. Because when has Eddie Munson ever been about conforming to societal norms?

-

Got a prompt? Send it to me

#steddie #steddie ficlet #steddie drabble #eddie munson #steve harrington #i haven't written properly in ages #this is soo rambly #stranger things #mywriting #ask #anonymous

[kale-theteaqueen]

Any chance we could get some soft Nessian for WIP Wednesday? Any fic is fine but I’m quite partial to TWT if you have something from that! Thank you!

Ask and you shall receive ;)

WIP Wednesday

Nesta's fingers were light as they trailed a path from his collarbone, down to his chest. He was so blessedly warm, giving her a sense of security so acute that her mind hardly registered how his arms were around her waist, keeping her close.

"It's over," He murmured into her hair, one of his hands rubbing at her back. "You don't have to worry about it any longer."

She couldn't find her words, nor the energy to use them. Instead, she let her head fall against his shoulder, eyes closing.

In her chest, her power hummed quietly, satisfied by what she'd done, yet not fully drained, like that one time on the mountain. This exhaustion, instead, came from grief, the finality of what she'd done.

"Can I take you home?" Cassian asked her, voice so quiet, so unlike the loud boisterous male that she once thought didn't know the meaning of the word.

Nesta thought about it, about the idea of him gathering her up and taking her home. The trepidation was there, but so, too, was her desire to feel better. Her desire to be kept safe by him.

So, she nodded.

A soft kiss was pressed to her head, before in gentle movements he dropped an arm under neath her knees, lifting easily.

She sucked in a breath as she went, but after a few minutes in his arms, she eased, her heart rate slowing back to normal. Carefully, her hands slid up to wrap around his neck, so she didn't fall.

"Lets go, sweetheart," He said, wings spreading. "You don't have to look at him ever again."

Tucking her face into the crook of his shoulder, Nesta let out a long breath, unwilling to even glance towards the destruction they were leaving behind.

"Hold on as tightly as you like," Cassian added. "I won't break."

Nesta wanted to lift her head, to chastise him that he did in fact break. But then he was shooting into the sky, wings spread wide, and it was all she could do to clutch to him as if he were the difference between life and death.

---

Stay tuned!

#wip #archive of our own #nessian #acotar fanfiction #nesta archeron #nesta x cassian #wip wednesday #cassian #acotar #cassian acotar

[kawaiiwritingcomputer]

Hello✨ May i request a Headcanons for Yandere Genos & Garou? Thank you very much!

🍄: hi hi! Absolutely!!!! i love Garou so much >< i hope you liked these! i’m still trying to get use to writing :3

Yandere Genos Headcanons:

Genos is intelligent and calculative

I just also believe him to be a delusional yandere who just wants to keep you safe

It doesn’t matter what you refer to him as either. He just knows that you’re his and he’s yours.

Genos is always watching over you. He used some of Child Genius’s tech to give to Dr. Kuseno to have access to watch you all the time

He’s watches you all the time and you’re unaware of it

whether you find it overwhelming or charming doesn’t matter to him! he’s always going to be be your side

if you didn’t accept him as yours and still tried “seeing” other people. it’s not like you’d get the chance. Nobody wants to upset Demon Cyborg™️

nobody even understands why it’s such a big deal! and that can be more frustrating if you’re resisting him. You have the perfect “boyfriend” what more could you want?

Him constantly being around you. Pressure from the public who doesn’t understand he’s a stalker!

You do slowly accept your fate with him

Even though it was unsettling at first, having food be cooked for you all the time was slowly becoming a perk. How did he get in? it doesn’t matter (he has a copy)

Genos understands human relationships concepts and does his best accordingly. but his little yandere bug just messes with him sometimes

His grips gets a little too tight if somebody else is talking to you too long but he’ll softly let go if you say ouch

again your safety matters, so he never wants to harm you

It’s a good thing you didn’t force him to have to hurt you. It’s a good thing you accepted him early on

Yandere Garou Headcanons:

The hottest and coldest mf to have as your yandere

You can feel when he’s near just by the piercing gaze of his. You can’t see him but he sees you and you know it

You can’t escape him either

He comes and goes as he pleases with the “soft” reminder that you’re his

You helped him once not realizing who he was

ever since he decided you were his to keep and his keeper as well

You would try to report him but with him always being gone and no evidence of destruction, you’re waved off as boy who cried wolf

Now that nobody’s gonna help you. Garou feels inclined to do whatever

He’s not sleeping on the couch. He’s sleepin in your bed. (he’s gentleman and gives space while sleeping but you both always wake up in each others arms, much to your “displeasure”)

He’s a leech. doesn’t do anything around the house! what a bum

But when you do warm up to him, those nice little hugs from the behind and weird awkward compliments are a little charming

if he wasn’t a self proclaimed hero killer

it’s best to get use to him. Neither of you are leaving this “relationship” if ever.

#one punch man #one punch season 2 #opm garou #garou x reader #garou headcanons #genos #genos x reader #genos headcanons #yandere garou x reader #yandere garou headcanons #yandere genos x reader #yandere genos headcanons #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #🍄 writing

[ronearoundblindly]

Pirate & Pin Cushion (3)

Jake Jensen x gn! ops!Reader

Painful...But In A Good Way (see previous or JJ Masterlist)

The last thing you remember is the awkward kiss Jake planted on you during a screaming match. Now, awake and healed, your friend and teammate is acting more awkward than usual around you.

Warnings for foul language, *super skimmed over action,* canon-level betrayal (Roque), completely vague mentions of injuries, suspicions, doubts, misunderstandings,--GO FIGURE--an argument, and I just wanted this done honestly. Not that I don't love them, but I need a win in the COMPLETED department. WC ~1.5k

You’re a Loser through and through now.

Months have gone by since you were stabbed and unceremoniously, sorta-kinda-maybe-not kissed by Jake Jensen. You woke up six days later with Pooch by your side, disappointed it wasn’t your Banter Bro.

The last thing you remember is turning away from Jake to hide your face. After that, nothing. You suppose he feels awkward about it. Maybe he regrets it, even if the ‘kiss’ was just part of a gag to him.

The most frustrating part is everything is exactly the same. Jake keeps you at arm’s length, a holding pattern to get no closer as teammates but no farther as friends.

Is this…are you in the friend zone???

It blows.

You’d still prefer this over being a pariah, so on you quip from interaction to interaction.

For all Jake’s hype about loving Halloween, he shuts down when you ask him what costume you should choose. Then he goes home to his sister and niece for the holiday.

...Okay…

You console yourself knowing this is for the best. You’d promised yourself no attachments, and nature clearly pushes for you to keep that promise.

You’ve almost—almost—resigned yourself to actual pin-cushion-status, jabbed repeatedly by his indifference. You are PC: perpetually crushing on Jake Jensen. It sucks.

You can be professional though. You can keep up with the jokes and take the hits to your heart and body that come with the job.

Until you can’t.

Los Angeles. The port. The shitshow.

While scrambling to get out of the line of fire in a showdown gone wrong, Jake cuts his leg vaulting over a concrete barrier, and you get him to a nook between shipping crates.

You squat down to change the mag on your MP7 and suddenly hear Roque’s voice behind you. He’s not on the comms.

“Should’ve told ‘em, Jensen."

The look on Jake’s face is shocked and bitter.

Roque clicks his tongue. "At least then they’d know…”

Before you can so much as turn to look, Jake’s raised his own weapon, firing right over your shoulder and within inches of your ear.

The pain is sharp and hot, sending you stumbling into the warped metal wall of the nearest container.

Jake wraps a thick arm around your waist and yanks you away.

You catch sight of Roque dead on the asphalt.

It’s complete chaos, pure survival mode for the next twenty minutes, deaf and deftly tying a bandage around Jake’s leg in an open, empty crate while he’s on comms and frantically hand-signaling you the plan.

But you make it. Everyone but Roque makes it.

Eventually, when the ringing subsides in your non-ruptured ear, Clay lays outRoque betrayed the team. Aisha teaches you a way to cup your occipital and tap to reduce the tinnitis. Pooch leaves to see the birth of his first child.

You’re left to ponder if Jake is a traitor, too.

Did he kill Roque to keep his own cover? Was he supposed to recruit you into his and Roque’s plan? Is that what he ‘should have told you’ so Roque wouldn’t need to kill you?

The possibilities haunt you. Is this why he’s kept you distant for months? Was Jake worried you’d catch on?

You blame your stupid crush for stopping you from telling Cougar your concerns. You trust Jake—or you want to trust him, so badly—so you confront him alone.

Dinner. At your place. Away from the team so he can feel safe to admit it. Away from the team so you can pretend your forgiveness isn’t already secured. You’ll deal with the consequences once you know the truth.

Jake seems an odd mix of totally psyched and forcefully reserved when you invite him and a nervous wreck when he arrives at your door.

It’s just pizza. You were too distracted to do more.

He doesn’t pick up his slice because you don’t either, running your hands up and down your thighs compulsively, then quietly asking, “about what Roque said…”

Jake leans back in his chair, leg bouncing frantically, rubbing at his neck. “Yeah,” he replies, eyes on the floor.

“Was he…were you his partner in that? Were you suppose to take me out, too?

Jake’s head snaps up, his mouth askew and brow pinched. “WHAT?”

“Just tell me the truth. I swear, we can work it out with the rest—“

“Is this what—what the fuck—“ he shoves the chair back and steps away “—that’s the reason I’m here right now? I thought you were finally gonna say it!”

Jake rips his glasses off his face and harshly runs his fingers through his frosted tips.

“Say…what? What am I supposed to say? I’m not the one Roque had a damn secret with.”

He’s visibly upset but with bugged-out eyes like he has no idea what to do.

“Well, I’m not a fucking traitor,” he mumbles.

Jake replaces his glasses and takes his phone from the pocket of his low-slung jeans, hitting a few buttons and tossing it onto the table. It slides until it knocks your plate.

His own recorded laugh cuts off quickly. “Okay, PC, what were you saying about Halloween? One more time,” and then comes another slow voice, “I should have told you before I died.

“I love you.”

Your whole body freezes, brain turning the words over and over until it occurs to you…that is your voice.

“I didn’t say that.” Your knee-jerk reaction comes swiftly. “I don’t remember that.”

Jake snorts without humor. “Got that part.”

You’re too stunned to speak. You can’t even imagine when you would have…oh god.

Jake rushes to fill the silence as you die inside, again, maybe more realistically because what.

“Did you at least think I was a badass, like, ya know, a sexy traitor or whatever? Or…were you gonna wrestle me to the ground after I ate a whole pie?”

You keep sitting with your mouth agape.

“You didn’t poison the pizza, did you? Right? Say 'no.' That’s overkill, or just, kill—were gonna kill me?!”

“I’D KNOWN YOU FOR TWO WEEKS,” you explode, bolting out of your own chair.

“Yeah,” Jake squeaks, “I know.”

“Two weeks, and then you taped me saying ‘I love you?’”

“But, like—“ his usually deep timbre pitches super high “…did you?”

“Why would you just sit on that, Jake?!”

He shrugs. “You weren’t exactly sober.”

Too much, too many feelings, all at once. You try to get away, to make a break for the bathroom, but Jake grabs your wrist and swings your momentum to the wall.

Your back hits with a soft thud, pinned in place by Jake’s chest. He’s not breathing heavily, but you are, pushing you against him repeatedly.

That just makes it harder.

Yes, you said it (you guess), and yes, you meant it. Jake, however, hasn’t said word one about if he feels some sort of way for you. Your brain can’t intuit his romantic inclinations two minutes after accusing him of treachery.

He’s…there, not moving, not speaking, lips slightly parted while he stares at you.

You clear your throat.

“You’re…you’re touching me,” you say softly.

Jake doesn’t skip a beat, gently tightening his hold on your arms. “That’s what I do, PC. Finger keyboards.”

You gag as he quickly shakes his head.

“What the fuck?”

“Sounds sooooo bad," Jake moans. "I’m so sorry.” He let’s go of you, steps back, and slaps his hands in the air frantically. “Wait, okay? That was not the joke. I can do it.”

“You’re sick, man.”

Jake rubs at his temples, muttering something about keys, computers, and Halloween. “Hold on...so dumb. This is why I was trying to record it! It’s your joke. You were laying on the bed and--”

“I would never say you fin—“

“He was standing right there,” Jake bursts, scaring you to silence. “Roque. When you said that into the phone, I mean, he was standing at the door and he heard.”

Jensen sighs. Defeated and deflated, he rests his hands on his hips, inhaling sharply.

“So at the port when… He aimed a gun at you and I just—“ he makes a finger gun to point over your shoulder, adding a soft pow sound-effect “—Roque was saying I should have told you before he tried to kill you.”

“About the recording?”

“No.” Jake rocks on his heels.

“About the joke?” Your voice is so small.

His stupid, beautiful blue eyes lift to meet yours.

“No, pin cushion, not about the joke.”

There's a horridly long pause of nothingness.

"Fuck it."

Jake lunges forward with startling intensity, fingers lace behind your head to draw you to him.

You don’t turn away this time.

His lips are soft yet determined, slowly pulsing to transform one kiss into dozens, and he adjusts everything—his height, his stance, his proximity to get even more of you in a single embrace.

“I love you,” Jake whispers, shifting to tilt you left while he goes right. “I should have told you ‘I love you,’ too.”

You promised yourself no attachments, but who are you kidding? You're such a loser, and you found your match.

[Main Masterlist; Light Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

😵‍💫

#jake jensen fanfiction #jake jensen x reader #jake jensen x you #jake jensen fluff #jake jensen angst #pirate and pin cushion

[cryptidcalling]

Vesper thoughts; Late Night Swim (Please read the tags for CW before opening)

Sometimes, when it's late at night and he can't sleep, Vesper will go for a swim in the Citadel's private pool. Technically it's Pansa's, but Vesper uses it far more often. He keeps the overhead lights off, just turning on the ambient lights beneath the water, setting them to a soft pink. The water is cold at night, since he never bothers to turn on the heaters. He lowers himself in slowly and launches off the side with his feet, dipping below the water and silently swimming across the length of the pool. He touches his fingertips to the opposite wall, comes up for a breath, and then launches off again. He lets himself get lost in the rhythm of it, almost meditative as each gasp for breath and soft splash fills the otherwise silent room. He'd struggled with swimming when he was young. He'd never seen so much water in one place before, and he certainly couldn't imagine being able to move your body through it. He hadn't been the only cadet who couldn't swim, but he still wasn't willing to be left behind, learning this basic skill as others got to start the real training. He took up every second of pool time he was allowed to. The number of times he'd almost drowned was over half a dozen. It never stopped him. Tonight he swims with grace, barely perceptible in the dark, pink water. On one wall of the pool room is a massive window overlooking the city of Starport. Lights glimmer from below, but up above the jagged silhouette of skyscrapers is a clear view of the night sky. Three moons shine brightly, surrounded by the pinprick light of stars. Vesper lets it interrupt his focus, gliding to the edge of the pool and staring out. The city is always alight, never sleeping, alive with the constant flow of power thanks to Stardust, the lifeblood of the Empire. He's not unlike the city, in that way. As his gaze turns up towards the sky, he gets a familiar feeling in his chest. It feels like someone is pulling him, like there are two strong hands wrapped around his ribs tugging him out toward the sky. The tightness spreads up into his neck, feeling as if there's something lodged there, words he does not know trapped in his throat, desperately needing to be called out. He tries to follow the feeling, let the words free, but there's nothing. He remains silent. Finally, he pushes away from the wall and treads water in the center of the pool. If he looks closely at the water he can almost convince himself that it's reflecting the sky. Vesper takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. He lets himself sink. He can feel it when his back makes contact with the floor. He looks behind him, but nothing is there. Stretching infinitely in all directions is the cold, eternal void of space. His hair flows up above him with no gravity to hold it down. Beyond him is a field of stars, trillions all clustered together, sisters lighting up the otherwise desolate stage in a glittering crescendo of flame and color. For a moment their magnificence is all he can comprehend, and he releases the knot in his throat in a silent, awestruck breath. Bubbles emerge from his mouth and float up and away.

Their beauty reaches his soul, but their warmth is inaccessible at this distance. The void's cold prickles against his skin. His fingers buzz like static, and when he finally brings them up to his face they're a bright pink. With a twitch, his fingertips break away into shimmering Stardust. There's an odd feeling in his chest again. It's different now, not being pulled away but rather crushing in on itself. It feels tight and uncomfortable, constricting his lungs and pressing hard against his bones. He watches as more of his hand disintegrates and floats away from him. It doesn't hurt much. It's prickly and uncomfortable, but then it's just numb. Maybe it will spread across his whole body. That wouldn't be so bad really. He could stay here forever that way. The pressure has turned into pain. It's crushing his lungs, traveling up his esophagus and winding around his throat. It hurts. He wants the light to spread faster, to reach his chest and turn it to dust so the ache will stop. He'll be at rest, his body turned to Stardust, the lifeblood of the Empire. The Empire. Vesper opens his eyes. He breaks the surface of the water with a crash and is able to make his way to a ledge, resting his weight against it as he violently coughs and gasps for air. It takes him several minutes to finally catch his breath. He's tired, and he's freezing, but he feels more at ease than he had before. He gets out and dries himself off, changing into some very comfortable pajamas, a gift from Pansa. He returns to his quarters and crawls back into bed. The covers are soft and warm. Feeling cozy and exhausted, he finds it easy to drift off to sleep. He dreams of stars.

#CW for Drowning risk. Described Difficulty breathing. and slight body horror #Also: Vesper does not have any desire to hurt himself or to stop living #However. Some content in this writing may reflect those sorts of feelings or ideations #It could be argued that the reckless behavior in this writing could also be considered self-harm #To be specific: He goes swimming alone late at night and lets himself stay under the water longer than is safe #Please keep these things in mind before reading #Vesper tag #(Also I wrote this at 1:00 am so don't expect art or anything lol) #Some clarification for what's going on: Vesper sometimes feels a deep sense of longing for outer space #Like something is calling him there. Like he belongs there. So besides taking a spaceship all the way out there the closest- #-He can get is being underwater. So this is kinda therapeutic for him. He can feel briefly closer to the stars #and is also able to remind himself of the things he values that he doesn't want to leave behind. #Obviously it's reckless and not really safe #But I assure you all he's just fine. Think of it more like an intense homesickness than a desire to actually become a star or- #-Leave his life behind.

[kennyomegasweave]

I've seen a lot of posts saying Nueng should have kept the bracelet or asking why he didn't just keep it and I just. He couldn't. He could not keep that bracelet and still leave. He wrote a goodbye note telling Palm he doesn't work for him, he doesn't want him to follow him, he wants him to meet someone and love them and be loved in return, but that can't be him. We know Nueng loves Palm. We know Palm love Nueng. We know they're the children of the sun and they were once glued up back to back. But Nueng thinks all that follows him is heartbreak and loss and that's all he can ever bring Palm, so he is willing to break both their hearts to keep Palm safe. It's misguided because Palm can't just walk away now. Palm knows they once had four legs and four arms. Even if his mom was still alive and his dad wasn't in jail, he can't just walk away from Nueng. But Nueng needs to break Palm so he stays away from him. So he breaks up with him in a letter after his mom dies and leaves in the night. And he leaves the bracelet, he has to leave the bracelet, because if he doesn't Palm might realize how Nueng still believes, even while breaking his heart, that they were once glued up back to back. And if Palm thinks Nueng still believe in their love, he will want to fight for them. Palm is a fighter, he's been fighting his whole life. And Nueng leaves needing Palm to fully believe his words and leave him alone and move on.

The tragedy of this show is we know neither of them will, or even can, move on. But they can't be together. Nueng can't just be a dude working on an island with Palm. Palm can't be Nueng's CEO house husband. They both love each other more than anything. But that doesn't mean it works. That doesn't mean they work. And so Nueng leaves the bracelet. And we all cry.

#never let me go #I have seen a lot of people mad at my boy Nueng but like #he truly believes he's doing the right thing #and like how can you say he isn't at least from his perspective #he has to leave palm all he's ever brought him has been sorrow #his mom is dead his dad is in prison he's not safe himself #nueng needs to leave palm because he loves him that much #he loves him enough to let him go #now palm doesn't want to be let go #and palm is most likely not gonna be like THANKS FOR DUMPING ME IN A LETTER AFTER MY MOM DIED #but Nueng is truly believing that Palm will read his letter with the bracelet and be like welp moving on #because remember Nueng doesn't think anyone would ever like him for him #and he def had to leave the bracelet or it would be a sign to palm that like #I DIDN'T WANT TO DO THIS I LOVE YOU BUT I WANT TO KEEP YOU SAFE #but Nueng doesn't want Palm to know that #because he knows Palm #he knows Palm would be like FUCK MY SAFETY I'M STAYING WITH YOU #so he has to leave the bracelet #he has to leave every trace of Palm's love behind #because he has to reject it so maybe just maybe Palm will believe him #and Palm will stay away from him and move on with some other person and be happy #but this is a show so it won't be happening but like dammit #Nueng isn't the bad guy here okay #and I'm in my feelings #obviously from these tags and this post #about how it seems like all of yall are making him that way #I am chris crocker levels of LEAVE NUENG ALONE LEAVE HIM ALONE lol #regular clyde #if this isn't the most coherent I am very drunk lol

[mudinyourshoes]

I stand by my conviction that Arthur should have stepped down when he learned that Morgana was his sister. The show should have ended with Morgana as queen, Gwen as queen consort, and Arthur and Merlin as their royal knight and sorcerer, defenders of the queens' peace

#merlin #bbc merlin #would have been epic #can you imagine the love story between Morgana and Gwen #where Morgana runs away from court thinking she's alone and unloved #leaving a heartbroken Gwen behind #and then there's a whole season of them both being heartbroken and trying to protect each other and find who they are without each other #separated #occasionally crossing paths but always forced apart again by misunderstanding or circumstances #god the angst #the happy ending would feel soooooo victorious #why bbc? #why didn't you take advantage of this golden opportunity #gwen knows about morgana's magic but tries to hide from everyone to keep her safe #morgana only returns to court to save gwen from something #she thinks she's going to have to sacrifice her opportunity for the throne and maybe even her life #but she does it anyway because she can't live in a world without gwen #(and then it turns out arthur is like #yeah take the throne! #and morgana is like?????bitch what????? I suffered all this for nothing???? what if i want to kill you while i'm at it? #and merlin and gwen are like yeah no. that last bit won't fly. srry)

[tender-rosiey]

“GOOD! NOW PUNCH HIS FACE!”

— when your baby and gojo, geto, nanami, toji, and sukuna get protective over you (f!reader)

a/n: I am alive!! as an apology here is a multi-character post 🙏 btw in toji's part, you're megumi's mom

GOJO SATORU:

two peas in a pod, twins, copies: these are all things people have called your husband and son.

honestly, they’re not wrong. your son has his father’s looks—satoru swears he has your nose and ears but anyway—and he carries the same protectiveness and love he holds for you, if not amplified.

you can’t count on one hand the amount of times the house has been turned upside down because of their fights for a cuddle session with you.

of course, you have always tried suggesting them simply sharing you, but these problem children would rather eat raw zucchini than ever share the cuddle time.

so while your son is barely six, you can still count on him to team up with satoru against anyone who wrongs you in anyway like what’s happening right now for example.

you’re out with your lovely family to buy some groceries, and since they both were whining about getting some sweets, you allowed them to go and snatch a couple from the next aisle.

on the other hand, you stayed to look for another type of detergent to clean the floor—especially since satoru got this new type of paint for s/n and it’s quite an endeavor to remove it with a regular detergent.

however, being in the cleaning supplies section never guaranteed the lack of filthy men who can’t take no for an answer. this one man approaches you, smug grin on his face as he leans on the wall, “what’s a pretty lady like you doing alone?”

“buying groceries like a normal person; now please leave me alone.”

he quickly frowns, “don’t be so stingy doll,” his hand extends towards your arm, “I can show you a good time; I promise—“

the man is swiftly smacked with an egg on his face, and he is left with the egg dripping down his face, “what’s your wrong with your kid, man?!” he yells at the person behind you.

he then grumbles, “ruined a potential good night.”

“my kid was absolutely right in what he did,” you hear satoru’s voice. you then feel a hand on your shoulder, and you’re pulled into a chest you’re all too familiar with, “’toru—“

your husband shoots a small smile your way, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, before looking at his son, “that last throw was very good, s/n! throw another one but just below his stomach."

a cheshire cat-like grin is plastered on your husband’s face as s/n prepares to launch another egg at the man.

there is a very evident scowl on your son’s face as he yells, “don’t you ever bother mama again, you stinky bum crumb!”

the man gasps and tries to make a run for it, but your son wouldn’t be the son of gojo satoru if he doesn’t manage to land the hit exactly where he wants.

the man quickly crumbles to the ground screaming and alerting literally everyone in the store.

so satoru picks both you and s/n and makes a run for it.

you hold tightly onto him, “wait, ‘toru, the groceries!”

“we can always order! saving my princess and son is more important!”

your son grumbles, “but I want to hit the rude man!”

“me too, champ, but—“ satoru sweat-drops and glances behind him, “I doubt the angry security guards would like that!”

GETO SUGURU:

your twin girls are one of the sassiest to exist.

in a way, they take after their father who is also pretty sassy but very low-key.

the sass of all three combined is terrible to be the victim of. luckily for you, they don’t dare direct their triple ray towards you, especially—in any argument—at least one will try to win you over.

if it’s suguru trying to stay on your good side, then he is hugging you from behind, pressing feather-like kisses on your shoulder and whispering about how sweet you are. if it’s the girls, then they cling to your legs and keep yelling about how much they love you.

so it is safe to say that you have a small squad to protect you from any potential “danger”.

“oh my, dear shouldn’t you focus on refining yourself a bit more?” you hear a woman say beside you.

you turn towards her, offended, “excuse me?”

“I mean,” her eyes scan you, disapprovingly, “you look average at best, and with that you won’t be able to find yourself a husband, let alone have children.”

you’re still processing her audacity as she continues, “but then again, it’s probably for the better that you don’t have children; you can barely take care of yourself.”

“can I help you?” your husband says as he approaches the woman.

she smiles condescendingly before chuckling, “I was simply telling this lady to take care of herself more; she hardly looks presentable.”

geto’s smiles tenses up as he is about to give the woman a calm peace of his mind, but his daughters beat him to it.

your older twin stands in front of the woman, scanning her with pure disgust in her eyes.

she grimaces and voices out her thoughts, “you are like a crunchy lizard.”

the woman gasps, “how dare you—!”

you cut off the woman, curious about your daughter’s conclusion, “why a crunchy lizard, sweetheart?”

your daughter looks at you with a small frown, shaking her head, “a crunchy lizard is an ugly sad lizard.”

a snort escapes your husband, and you’re barely able to contain your smile.

your other daughter follows up, looking at her twin sister, “the lady looks like that one green thingy we saw yesterday,” she taps her little foot, trying to remember and beams at the woman, “shrek! you look like shrek!”

then they both glare at her, frowning, “you’re a monkey!”

your husband doesn’t let it go as he deals the final—subtle—blow, “come on now girls; we shouldn’t bully the lady with the mcdonald’s like hairline anymore.”

it seems like the woman can’t take it anymore as she starts sobbing and running to the hills.

a moment of silence is shared across the four of you, before you carry both of your girls in your arms and start tickling them, “I don’t know whether to be proud of you or scold you, little evil girls!”

they squeal, trying to escape your hold and calling for their father.

geto chuckles and wraps his arms around the three of you, “let them have it for tonight, y/n,” he ruffles their hair, “they were brave and defended their mom, after all.”

“yeah, papa is right!”

“yes mama, please!”

you pout then smirk at geto, “well I don’t mind, and since papa is also very proud of you girls, he will buy any toy that you guys want today!”

the color drains from your husband’s face, and he watches motionlessly as his girls latch onto him, screaming about the toys they want.

you giggle at his expression and blow him a kiss. he reluctantly blows you one back, while the girls excitedly pull him towards the toy store.

NANAMI KENTO:

you and your husband were blessed with the sweetest girl as your daughter, and she was just recently joined by another sweet girl.

you can never forget the happiness on your daughter’s face when she saw her baby sister.

it also seems that no matter how many times you give birth, your husband can’t help but get emotional when he holds your baby. his hands are forever delicate as he cradles her to his chest.

you remember what he said during the birth of your first daughter.

“I feel like a piece of heaven has been plucked and placed in my arms.”

the way he always goes soft for the three of you is honestly adorable.

today, you were going on an outing with your—now 6 months old—baby and your older daughter who is almost six.

your husband never brags about his muscular form, but he never misses a chance to carry the baby or the baby supplies.

you have offered to at least carry the bag, but he always refuses, stating that ‘you already carried the baby for nine entire months in your belly; this is the least I can do.’

so yeah, sometimes you wish to smooch your husband till forever, but that’s not the point.

you’re walking hand in hand with your daughter as she sings her favorite song. you hear someone click their tongue, so you look to the side and lock eyes with an old lady. she takes the opportunity and approaches you.

“you should be ashamed of yourself!” she yells pointing at you, “your husband shouldn’t be carrying the baby supplies nor the baby itself for the matter,” she scowls, “that’s your job!”

“with all due respect ma’am, but that isn’t her job, and taking care of the baby should be something we are both responsible for.”

“yeah!” your daughter huffs, “and don’t take out your sad life on my mama!”

your eyes widen as you stare at your daughter.

on the other side, your husband is just as speechless. your daughter pays no one any mind as she continues, “mama works hard every day! you wouldn’t know that! you immature nugget!”

nanami frowns lightly, “d/n, that’s not nice—“

and for the cherry on top, your baby daughter throws the bottle cap she was playing with at the old lady, and frowns at her.

she starts babbling some nonsense that you're pretty sure are curse words in baby language.

having had enough, the old lady huffs, “the utter disrespect,” and starts walking away.

the rest of the spectators’ eyes follow her till she is out of sight. finally then, people start minding their own business, and you and your little family are left to the aftermath.

you giggle, “that was funny.”

“really?!” your daughter beams.

nanami cuts her off, “no,” he then looks at you with a small frown, a sigh escaping his lips, “y/n don’t encourage them—“

your baby daughter screams happily when she sees her sister smile. she starts kicking her feet with the biggest smile on her own face.

your older daughter starts laughing with her and tries to make her little sister laugh more—she was successful.

meanwhile, you chuckle, leaning on your husband’s shoulder, “admit it, kento; it was kind of funny.”

his resolve softens at the sound of laughter from all three of his girls, “okay, maybe a little, but—“

“yay!!”

ladies: 1

kento: 0

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

your husband and son are so alike, save for the part that your husband is a bit more shameless, and your son is more on the shy side.

however, they both have the same bluntness and the tendency to give anyone who they don’t like attitude.

for example, today, you were walking in the park with the both of them to unwind a bit.

not to mention that megumi wanted to walk his dogs which was a plus, since you would be able to watch your dear son play around with them.

it was all going great until you saw an old ‘friend’ who came running at the sight of you. he was someone who has always been way too touchy and in your personal bubble.

you have tried talking to him about it, but you’re confident that he does it to somehow force you into reciprocating the intimacy.

even if you’re a married woman with a freaking kid.

he giddily clasps your hand, “y/n, ‘been a long time!”

“h-hey,” you smile awkwardly.

he laughs, “I was passing by when I saw your figure, and I couldn’t help but come and say hi.”

you nod, “that’s great, but I am busy, so maybe later?—“

“you’ve gotten even prettier!” he exclaims, “I wish you would finally take me out on a—“

“can’t you see that she is uncomfortable?” your son retorts, “also, you should step back; you shouldn’t touch someone like this without asking them.”

megumi squeezes himself between the both you and glares at the man.

the guy was about to reply to your son, but toji pushes him back with ease, pulling you beside him and hand resting on your waist almost by instinct, “kid is right,” he tilts his head a bit, “ever been taught manners or do I have to do the teaching for you?”

the guy is taken back; offended, he snaps “you can’t speak to me like that!”

“and you can’t hold my mom’s hands like that, but here we are,” your son cleverly sasses him.

on the other hand, your—shameless—husband pulls you into one scandalous kiss and smirks at the guy when he pulls back, “and you can’t hit on a married woman, by the way.”

you hear your son gag in disgust at his dad’s actions, but you’re too busy burying your face in your husband’s chest, hoping that the guy disappears before toji makes even more of a bigger scene.

you also hope that the ground would swallow you, but that’s the alternative option.

the guy clutches his fist, before walking away, spewing insults at the sky—since he is too scared to cuss out your buff husband. once the man is out of sight, toji ruffles megumi’s hair, chuckling, “good job, kid.”

your shy bean’s cheeks redden slightly as he looks away, “…thanks.”

you’re still thinking about what just happened when you slap your husband’s chest, “toji, literally why?” you grumble, patting megumi who started holding onto your leg the moment you hugged toji.

“why not,” your husband shrugs with a small smile, taking pride in your flustered form.

“dad, I want ice cream.”

“no, you just want me to let go your mom, so you can hog her for yourself,” toji grumbles, staring down at megumi.

unfaltering, megumi looks up at him ,“dad, I want ice cream.”

“god damn it, listen here you—“

“divine dogs.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

there is no denying that both your son and your husband care for you very much, and they both—very aggressively—compete for your attention.

I am talking he literally throws the kid across the room kind of aggressive, and your son, in turn, throws whatever he has at him.

it’s eventful, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t one of the reasons why you will get grey hair earlier than everyone else.

so their very aggressive nature is also shown in their protectiveness over you.

a person doesn’t need to insult or even dare flirt with you for your devil duo to make their life a living hell; your husband and son don’t tolerate someone speaking to you if it causes you to ignore both of them.

for example, this one new servant was clueless to where the broom is, and unluckily for him, he saw you sitting with your husband and son in the gardens. he humbly approached you, “excuse me, m’lady.”

you turn to look at him with a smile, “yes?”

he clears throat, a bit flustered by the attention, “I—I wanted to ask where the—“

“up your ass, you disgusting fiend,” your son sneers followed by his father’s ever-permanent scowl.

“who gave you the permission to come and speak to her so casually?” sukuna presses, and the servant quickly falls to his knees.

“m-my apologies, my lord! I did not mean to disturb you!”

sukuna crosses his arms, “well, you did, and you also disturbed your queen and prince,” his eyes narrow at the servant, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

meanwhile, you’re watching all of that, mouth agape and trying to articulate anything to save the poor guy. you finally find your voice, “sukuna, it’s okay; he didn’t mean—“

your son hugs you tightly and glares at the servant, “to think he would so brazenly speak to you like you’re old friends is terrible, mother.”

you can almost see your son’s cursed energy flaring, and you can spot the small smirk on your husband’s face as he watches his son.

before it escalates any further and you find yet another dead corpse in your palace, you pick up your son, kissing his cheek which makes him flustered and causing him to bury his face in your neck.

you look at the servant, “you’re dismissed, and you can the head maid about anything you need, okay?”

“y-yes, m’lady!” he, however, stays glued to the ground, “may I have the permission to lift my head?”

sukuna grunts, “sure.”

“thank you, m’lord,” the servant says, before scurrying towards the gate, having secured his freedom after his little mistake.

or at least, that’s what he thought.

your husband slices his legs off with a flick of a finger, and your son, who has inherited his father’s technique, slices the head off.

and so the body falls to the ground, and the other servants hurriedly start cleaning up the mess.

you frown at your husband, “sukuna! he apologized!”

he rolls his eyes, and pulls you by the waist, “do I look like I care? he shouldn’t have interrupted our time together.”

“aww, you’re jealous!”

“no, I am not—“

“hands off, old man!”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x you #nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami kento x reader #toji x reader #toji x you #toji x y/n #sukuna x reader #sukuna x you #sukuna x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #geto x y/n #nanami x y/n

[sugurizz]

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐬 ✧ Feat. JJK MEN

𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 ── Jjk Men in their -real- Daddy era. (Am I secretly having a baby fever LMAOO)

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 ── fluffy stuff, pure wholesomeness and affectionate dads.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐓𝐨𝐣𝐢

It's safe to say that sometimes you're raising two babies - only one of them is a big buff pouty one.

Daddy Toji sneaks to the kitchen in the middle of the night, leaving you both sleeping in your shared bedroom and then slowly closes the door. He promised himself he'd only take one *unnoticeable* spoon of your newborn's baby formula but ends up stuffing his face with the forbidden powder in the heat of the moment. He tries his best to hide his tracks by shoving the tin somewhere far in the cupboard.

He *oddly* always makes sure to be the one preparing his baby's bottle the next day - 'Oh darling, don'tcha move a muscle...I'll be right back with our baby's breakfast!'

You smile and raise a brow, already suspecting something. Daddy Toji is not much of a morning person. much less when it comes to baby chores...

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮

Gojo is always there whenever you change your baby's diaper. He keeps laughing and giggling like a 6 year old, curiously learning from his baby momma how to take care of his little child. His sky blue eyes are staring at your skilled hands, handling your precious little one with infinte care. He keeps smiling in awe, chuckling every time your baby farts and making the funniest faces just to make them giggle.

He takes a million pictures of his baby every day; we're talking his whole camera roll is just his baby's face, cutesy hands, tiny feet, smiling, eating, sleeping on daddy's chest, drooling on his shoulder...the list never ends.

His baby looks so smol when he holds it in his huge hands. He has to bend all the way down just so he could pick them up cause obviously my dude is the tallest man ever.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐍𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐢

He'd take full care of your newborn just to see you rest and relax. He told you to teach him everything he needs to know so that he'd be perfectly fit for his new -and best ever- occupation; your baby father. He's got however only one pet peeve; getting his little one to burp after feeding them.

The reason? He was doing it once, holding the baby while gently patting its back...until he suddenly felt a warm liquid slithering down his shirt - the expensive one you dearly gifted him on your wedding anniversary- and to his surprise it was none other than his little one's vomit dripping down his shoulder...

Now he makes sure you hold a napkin behind him whenever he does it.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐨

He's by far the chillest Daddy EVER. Carries his little one whenever he goes. Gets super jealous when your baby starts calling for you, or wants you to hold them instead of him. He's determined to make them say 'daddy' first, but deep down knows it'd melt his heart when he sees the little version of him utter mommy's name for the first time.

Staying awake at night putting his baby to sleep just so you can get your full nightly rest is something he'd never miss out on. He hates seeing you tired or sleepy and puts both of your needs before anything else.

Daddy Geto is always calm and smiley, no matter how much mess his baby makes or how long it'd take for him to clean it up - sometimes makes you seriously wonder how he manages to be so damn chill all the time.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐒𝐮𝐤𝐮𝐧𝐚

For a husband twice your size with four arms and eyes he sure should take most care of your little offspring - He does tbf - His baby is always laying somewhere on his body or at least near him; sleeping against his chest, nibbling on his thumb, drooling on the side of his shoulder or sitting on his huge lap.

He's got a 6th sense whenever it comes to his baby being hungry, thirsty, sleepy or needing anything at all. Instantly knows the reason why his little one is crying and most of the time is very quick to make them happy again.

Absolutely hates poopie smell and calls them a brat whenever he senses their diaper getting heavier. 'Aggh you little runt!' You can't help laughing at him getting overwhelmed with such a tiny thing and start teasing him over it.

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐲 𝐘𝐮𝐮𝐭𝐚

There's nothing that Yuuta loves more than children. He has always wanted to have kids and couldn't wait to create his very first and own one with you. He's in LOVE with seeing you taking care of them; almost admiring every move and every word you say. He smiles like an idiot whenever he sees you holding your baby, breastfeeding them, playing with them or even laying next to them.

His favorite game is to hide somewhere in the house and let his little one look for him. He does it so suddenly and quickly, leaving them puzzled with big round eyes - comes out of his hideaway when they start sobbing and laughs at their little red nose and pouty cheeks.

'Aww why is my little cupcake cryiiing?...Daddy's right here!'

#jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #toji x reader #toji x you #jjk smut #toji imagine #jjk toji #toji smut #toji fushiguro #fushiguro toji #jujutsu kaisen #nanami headcanons #nanami kento x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojou satoru x you #gojo satoru #gojo imagine #gojo satoru smut #suguru geto #geto suguru smut #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru

[angelltheninth]

The Muzzle Problem

Pairing: Wriothesley x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, rough sex, muzzle, breeding, possessive sex, creampie, mentioned marking, doggie style, feral!Wriothesley

Word count: 0.7k

A/N: Expanding on that post I made the other day cause got damn I want him in a muzzle so bad!

He fucked you like he hated you, and maybe in this moment he did. Not because you did something wrong per se, not because he had a reason to hate you, his pretty girlfriend, but all because you wanted to see what would happen when you put a muzzle on him while he fucked you.

"Think you're safe from me when my mouth is caged up?" The cold bars of the muzzle pressed against your face when he attempted to nuzzle in closer to you, his frustration palpable in the loud smacking of his hips into yours. "Think again, there's many way that I can mark you as mine." Your pussy tightened around his cock, legs feeling weak and suddenly you found yourself grateful that you had the bed to fall back onto.

You reached behind you and felt the cold cage of the muzzle, "You know you can't leave marks on me. What if someone saw? They'd know... ah... about us... and..." Wriothesley tightened his hold on your hips and pressed your hips fully against the bed, clit grinding against the pillow under you while he fucked you hard, fast, possessive, almost feral. "Wrio! Careful! Your hands!"

"My hands, my cum, my cock, yes all of them, I can mark you with all of them. I don't really have to though, do I? Because at the end of the day you already know that you're mine." Behind closed doors you were his, but to everyone else you were his right hand woman, to be respected and feared as such too. In both cases though you were his and he was yours, secretly ready whenever you called for him.

Unlike you Wriothesley didn't have any problem teasing you during work hours, which lead to situations like these, getting fucked on his bed right after the shift ended, a puddle between your legs and a pulsing ache that grew every time his cock sunk back into your wet...

"My pussy, it's all mine, and you know what? I think this pussy could use some of my cum in it. It's been so good for me lately, so good for me. You've been amazing, I don't know what I'd..." He groaned as you hooked your fingers on the muzzle and pulled him forward, causing his cock to sink in balls deep into your drooling cunt.

"There, yes, fuck... fuck me there..." Again you tugged on his muzzle and felt the full weight of him on top of you, doing everything you could to keep your ass smacking loudly against his, "Fuck me however you want, just don't leave any marks where people can see." Those were some very dangerous terms you just agreed to.

You could feel yourself dripping with arousal as he began going faster, fucking you like he wanted to see you break on his cock. And maybe he did, as punishment for denying him the pleasure of biting and kissing you. "Breed you, I'm gonna breed you, get my cum in your wet little cunt. Let's see who owns your pussy then huh? When you're dripping, when your womb is flooded with my cum. Say it, say it, say it!" Your hips met his one final time before your mind went blank with pleasure, warmth spreading both inside and out, your orgasm making your stiff against his rock hard body.

Hot cum rushed into your spasming walls, your abused, sensitive pussy taking all of it before he collapsed next to you.

A few minutes passed in silence, the only sounds being each other's breath, slowly getting back to normal. You turned to your side, trying not to squirm as Wriothesley's cum dripped down your thighs. He looked happy, hair very messy and eyes a little hazy still but happy. When you reached behind him and undid the clasp of his muzzle he let out a long sigh before opening his mouth wide, flexing the soreness out of his poor jaw.

"Sorry." You snuggled up to his chest and kissed him on the chin, "But it's not my fault you can't keep your mouth to yourself."

"Yes it is. You're too cute for your own good." Wriothesley pressed a long kiss against your forehead, another content sigh leaving his lips. He was finally able to do what he wanted to do all day, kiss you as much as he wanted.

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #wriothesley x reader #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact hcs #genshin imagines #genshin headcanons #genshin hcs #genshin impact smut #genshin smut #wriothesley imagine #wriothesley headcanons #wriothesley hcs #wriothesley smut #genshin impact x female reader #genshin x female reader #genshin impact x you #genshin x you #genshin impact #wriothesley