#and all three of these characters have boyfriends so...

[forlix]

𝐝𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞・b.c.

— incurable playboy turned doting boyfriend was a character development arc nobody saw coming for christopher bang, including (especially) his frat brothers.

words・2.8k pairing・frat president!chris x gn!reader genres・fluff, humor, hurt/comfort, college!au, fuckboy!chris, boys being boys, kissing, implied sex so mdni warnings・substance use, talk of past heartbreak

a/n・here is "nobody believes you're dating" w/chan, requested by none other than my @rachalixie for my 2k event !! anny, i hope u love this fic as much as i love u; thank you for allowing me to write something so self-indulgent <3

In the deafening throes of one of Phi Mu Alpha’s spring kickbacks, Minho finds Jeongin and Seungmin standing in motionless silence by the kitchen counter. Both boys are gaping at something with an intensity that dips egregiously into the realm of creepy.

He moves to pour himself a shot. “What the fuck are you people looking at?”

Seungmin prods a pointer finger in the relevant direction. It takes a few seconds of scanning the scene for Minho to find what he’s referring to. He digs a knuckle into his eye, instantly confused by what he’s seeing. Maybe the gaping is justified.

The windows and doors have all been thrown open to invite the balmy April weather into the foyer of the frathouse. There’s a large crowd of people huddled around a long, foldable table stationed before the stairs; Jaehyun clutches a ping-pong ball between his fingers, singular eye squinted shut as he takes aim. The number of remaining solo cups dwindles rapidly, as does the players’ sobriety.

Something—someone—is missing.

Not to say “beer pong virtuoso” was one of the reasons Chris was elected frat president, but you’d think the guy had a career path in basketball with how he’s given the entire Greek life community alcohol poisoning by courtesy of two or three plastic balls alone. Minho has never known him to miss a shot, let alone miss out on a game.

Today, however, the reigning champion is only spectating, seated above the ongoing match on one of the steps of the main staircase.

A beautiful stranger is sitting beside him, cheek pressed to his shoulder as you peer at the match through the bannister.

You say something inaudible. The laugh it earns from Chris is bright enough to pick up from a few streets down. He leans in to murmur something in return, and you slide your hand over his nape to pull his mouth onto yours, light blush crawling up and over your ears. The way Chris melts into you can only be described as familiar, his eyes slowly fluttering shut, finger hooking delicately beneath your chin, grin going lopsided as your lips part—

“That’s enough,” Minho hisses, tearing his eyes away with considerable effort. “Aren’t you ashamed? Just fucking ogling.”

Jeongin shakes his head, grinning. “It’s dinner and a show. We’d be idiots not to.”

By dinner, he must mean the gallon of chocolate milk he’s been drinking from for the last hour. He now holds out said gallon with the intent to cheers. Seungmin picks up the entire handle and does the same.

Minho sighs, clinks his glass against theirs, and they throw back their respective refreshments in unison.

“Anywho.” Jeongin swipes the back of his hand over his mouth before going on. “You guys know who that is?”

Minho resurfaces with a wince, relishing in the bitter aftermath, then motions for Seungmin to give the bottle back straightaway. He arrived to the function late and he’s not nearly as drunk as he’d like to be.

Seungmin obliges Minho only after another heady swig. “No clue. Probably just another fling, no?”

“Mmm,” Jeongin hums in assent. “It’s Chris we’re talking about, after all.”

"Agreed. Case closed.”

There’s an air of finality in Seungmin’s voice—but Minho isn’t so sure.

Perhaps because he has never noticed that Chris had dimples until now; or because you fold so naturally into Chris' side after your kiss ends, head nuzzling against the crook of his neck and hand seeking out his to hold in your lap; or, most likely, because Chris' eyes seem to return to you when he looks at you, as if his gaze drifting anywhere else is but a momentary departure from where it really belongs. As if he comes home every time you come into his line of vision.

Whatever the reason, the idea coalesces in Minho’s mind, even as inebriation begins to fall over his cognitive faculties like a curtain, that the boys have got it wrong.

Jeongin utters his name, jolting him out of his trance. There’s another shot lifted halfway to Minho’s lips that hasn’t budged in minutes. “Whatcha thinking about?”

Minho looks at Jeongin first, Seungmin next, then back at Chris and his stunning companion. He’s not inclined to answer the question in full, but he can in truth. A coy smile crosses his face.

“Threesome?”

Jeongin laughs hard enough to collapse onto the kitchen island. Seungmin drags a hand down his face. “Come on, man.”

In the corner of his eye, you’ve gone back to kissing again, slow and sweet and secretive. Chris' gentle hold on your jaw shields you from view but fails to hide his lovesick smile. Dimly, Minho thinks that maybe his friend has met his match.

Then, he takes four shots in rapid succession—and stops thinking altogether.

Christopher Bang’s love life is like a horror movie and romcom spliced together: a fiasco of a film to which his housemates have front row seats.

The frat’s upperclassmen live in sets of four-bed, two-bath suites comprising a small common space with a kitchen and a sitting area, sandwiched by bedrooms on either side. It is in that common space that Changbin, Hyunjin, and Jisung often see or hear Chris stumbling home after a night out, entangled with a different attractive stranger every time—so often, in fact, that they’ve come to believe that he’s deathly allergic to anything bigger than a one-and-done hookup.

They can’t judge. In part because they’d be throwing stones from glass houses, but also because the man’s penchant for empty physicality is far from unfounded. His past self gave pieces of his heart to the wrong people, contracted first-degree burns from the guileless warmth he sought out. Now, his version of “intimacy” is less a connotation of closeness than it is a self-contradiction, for it should be impossible for so much distance to remain between two people in a single bed.

Chris hasn’t vocalized any of this. Nor have his housemates discussed it with each other. The knowledge simply exists in the air between the four of them like something akin to taboo, dipping in and out of acknowledgement depending on the circumstance.

This might be the circumstance of all time.

At around 11:40 A.M. on a Saturday, three doors in the suite open at once. Hyunjin and Changbin aren’t coincidence—the latter is coercing the former to go to the gym again—but they lift their eyes to the opposite side of the living room, and the slice of milk bread dangling from Hyunjin’s lips very nearly takes a fatal fall. Changbin manages to snatch it up with an extended hand.

Chris has just emerged from his room as well. Your silhouette follows close behind, your mouth stretching into a yawn as you massage the sleep from your eyes. You’re sporting a mesh green sweater identical to one Chris owns. They find Chris' accessories more interesting than his clothes, though: two hickeys peeking out from beneath his jaw and the base of his neck.

Chris sees Hyunjin and Changbin right away, and his expression goes utterly blank, not unlike their faces as they watch you close his door meticulously. You turn around and gasp.

The four of you stare at each other for what feels like multiple business days. At least, Hyunjin, Changbin, and Chris stare at each other; your eyes dart between the men on the other side of the room and the man next to you, silently pleading for him to say something. He does not for a long while.

Then, he lunges for one of the throw pillows on the couch and flings it at Hyunjin like a shot put. It ricochets off his chest and lands on the floor rather anticlimactically.

“Distraction!” Chris yells anyways, grabbing your hand and tearing towards the exit, wild grin on his face. “Go, go, go!”

Your raucous laughter lingers even after you’ve been hauled away, accompanied by an unintelligible, breathless shout of something along the lines of my toothbrush—and then the front door clicks shut, and there are two.

Changbin and Hyunjin lock eyes, struggling to process what just happened. Hyunjin is the first to move, wandering hesitantly into the bathroom that Chris and Jisung share. Nothing about the place looks out of the ordinary.

“Oh, shit,” Hyunjin says out loud.

Aside from the two toothbrushes slotted in the holder on Chris' side of the counter, that is.

Something moves in the bathroom window, catching his attention. Hyunjin looks over just in time to spot you and Chris dart out onto the lawn two floors below. Chris has his arm draped over your shoulders, yours wrapped around his waist. Your smile is discernible all the way from here, and Hyunjin sees a perfect mirror of it on his friend’s face when Chris glances at the frathouse over his shoulder. 

Has he always had dimples?

Moments later, Changbin joins him in peering out the window. A high-pitched cackle erupts from the older boy’s lips. “Look at that idiot.”

Standing off to the left is a tiny, astonished Han Jisung, his arms full of groceries, jaw sitting squarely the grass and whites of his eyes on full display as he watches you and Chris stroll away.

Hyunjin laughs with his whole fucking body. Changbin whips out his phone and takes a picture.

When you finally breach the topic, it’s because you don’t think you can physically study for another minute—but also because, after multiple long months of fruitless sparring, your curiosity finally wins.

Your boyfriend is seated in your desk chair, feet kicked up onto your mattress with his laptop propped up on his thighs. His features have rearranged themselves into an expression of intense focus. You can hear the music blaring through his headphones from all the way here.

You uncross your legs from below you, scootch across your bed, and lift your hands to cradle his cheeks. He starts as if jolted out of a trance, then starts to smile when he reads the words hi, Channie off your lips.

His headphones fall around his neck. He sets his laptop down onto your desk with a dull thunk. The next thing to drop is you when Chris seizes you by the waist and tackles you into the mattress. The somber atmosphere of your study session is shattered by your muted laughter and Chris pressing his lips to every inch of your exposed skin he can. He saves your mouth for last.

“Hey, beautiful,” he answers after kissing the living daylights out of you, the syllables soft and silky with adoration. “Missed me?”

The room’s dim lightning sets your boyfriend aglow. You drag your eyes from his brown irises with blown pupils to his sloping nose, from his disheveled dark locks to his cordate lips, so plush and warm against your own that you swear you still feel them there. 

“Always,” you say, brushing a hand over the back of his neck, your head now spinning so badly you can barely remember what you wanted to ask him. “I was starting to feel jealous of your homework.”

He chuckles. “Shit, I’ll drop out of college right now, baby. Just say the word.”

“You’re perfect,” you hum, nudging the tip of your nose against his.

“Says you.”

Your lips find his again—needless to say, your study sessions aren’t known for their productivity—and a lot of time passes before you come up for air. Even afterwards, Chris doesn’t let you go far, pulling you into his chest by the curve of your waist, nuzzling his cheek into your hairline. You only need to murmur for him to hear your question.

“Can I ask you something?”

“'Course,” he returns, and you’re close enough to sense him tighten with apprehension. “Everything okay?”

“Yes. Don’t worry.” You print a kiss to the side of his neck for extra reassurance. “It’s just…I’ve been meaning to ask how your friends feel about me.”

He tightens with something else now: surprise, you’re guessing, hoping. You hadn’t seriously considered that the answer could be negative, but it’s dawning on you now that the possibility of that isn’t zero.

“Where’s this coming from?” Chris inquires, his tone opaque.

You hesitate, mentally reviewing your interactions with your boyfriend’s social circle. Hyunjin and Jisung can’t make eye contact with you when they speak to you. Minho does nothing but make eye contact with you whether he’s speaking to you or not. Jeongin and Seungmin can maintain small talk for about ten seconds before they start looking like they would rather be anywhere else. Changbin is the only one you’ve held a conversation with, and only because you were going up the same stairs at the same time and the alternative would have been mind-numbing silence.

What is the best way for you to say this?

“Well,” you begin, “I can’t help but notice that they act a little—when I’m around, they’re a bit, uh—”

“—crazy,” Chris offers. “Completely fucking bat-shit crazy.”

“Yes. Exactly that.”

Chris threads a hand through your hair, the comforting gesture doing nothing to assuage your worry. It seems there’s some truth behind your impressions. Your next words are tinged with a quiet sadness.

“I’m not imagining things, then?”

“No, angel,” he sighs. “But not for the reasons you think.”

A beat passes. Chris perceives your silence as a chance to backtrack, to opt out of this conversation if it’s one he’s not ready for. He would’ve leapt at the opportunity once.

But he realizes in that moment, with your voice gentle against his ears and your touch so doting upon his skin, how much has changed since he met you: from the color of the sky to the word home and everything in between, including his cynicism towards love and all the iterations of forever it holds. 

With that epiphany comes another, then another: he wants you to know why his friends are acting insane, wants you to know about him and his past and all the wounds of his you never know you healed, wants you to spend the rest of this forever with him.

His pointer finger dusts beneath your chin, a wordless request for you to look at him, and he nearly liquifies when you do and he finds entire constellations in your eyes. 

“It’s a lot,” he mumbles, though he suspects you know that already; he suspects you know about the other stuff, too. 

You bring your hand to the side of his face, bring your forehead to rest upon his. Your closeness washes over him like a low summer tide lapping over sandy shores, a soothing balm spreading over scorched flesh. 

“It’s you,” you whisper. “I will love it just the same.”

Chris' held breath comes out in shudders.

So this is warmth.

Minho and Felix are watching anime on the couch when a knock comes at their door, unfortunately during a pivotal moment of a pivotal episode. 

Minho hits pause with a ghastly groan. Felix laughs and rises to his feet, dashing into his room to grab the two silver necklaces he’ll be loaning out for the evening. “Coming!”

Outside, Chris is standing alone, hips and thighs accentuated by a pair of tight-fitting dress pants, sculpted chest and collarbones framed by a thin, cream-colored shirt with the top three buttons undone. Most of his hair has been pushed off his forehead, leaving a few locks free to fall over his right eyebrow. He’s rolling up his sleeves when Felix opens the door, veined forearms flexing as a result of the effort.

“Well?” He asks. Minho cranes his neck to look past Felix.

Both boys start to holler and whistle like excited macaques.

“What in the Calvin Klein is this?” Felix shouts, spinning Chris around by the shoulders. “You look insane, bro. Holy fuck.”

“What’s the occasion, young man?” Minho inadvertently sounds like a gruff uncle. “Where are you going dressed like that, huh?”

Chris' laugh comes easier nowadays. What’s more, it comes in a way that reaches the rest of him, that ends in a tiny, high squeak that you really have to look for in order to hear. Felix and Minho can't help but replicate his smile. Those clothes look good on him, yes, but happiness looks even better.

“You guys are silly,” Chris giggles. Dimples indent his cheeks as he accepts the necklaces from Felix. “Thanks, man. I’ll give ‘em back tomorrow.”

“No rush,” Felix replies, grinning. “Have fun, yeah?”

“We will.” Chris starts to retreat down the hallway, hands moving to clasp the jewelry around his neck, but not before he blows the both of them a kiss.

“Be back before ten!” Minho hollers; Chris laughs again, turns a corner, and disappears.

Felix closes the door. His smile falters fast. Minho has brought his face mere centimeters away, his expression thoroughly humorless.

“Tell me only the truth, Lee Yongbok,” he deadpans.

“O-okay—”

“Is Chris in a relationship?”

“—oh.” Felix frowns. “Well, yeah.”

Minho blanches. “How—how long?”

“One year, give or take? Anniversary’s today.”

Minho is stunned. Felix is stunned that Minho is stunned.

© 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐱 (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support ♡

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[marvuders]

"No swearing, Mooney!" — Wolfstar

warnings: heavy food mentions word count: 3,187 characters/era: sirius black, remus lupin, baby!harry potter, mention of other marauders. au where james & lily lived.  summary: Remus is tasked with cooking breakfast for himself, his boyfriend, Sirius and their friend's baby Harry. It doesn't go quite well at first, but everything works out in the end.

-

Remus quickly glanced over his shoulder, but he couldn’t help but stop and take in the moment. His boyfriend, Sirius, was jumping around their lounge room with the largest smile on his face, his hair bouncing around with him, his baby hairs starting to stick to his forehead that was quickly becoming sweaty. Their friend’s toddler, Harry, was just as excited as Sirius was. He couldn’t call it jumping, but Harry was bouncing with Sirius’ movements, laughing as they went.

It was such a sweet moment, he wished that he had his camera nearby. Muggle cameras couldn’t do justice to this moment. It was small moments like these that made Remus fall in love with Sirius all over again.

The coldness in his hand quickly reminded him what he was actually meant to be doing, Remus caught the short end of the stick this morning and was meant to be cooking breakfast for all three. He placed the milk down on the counter, rubbing his hands together as he looked at the messy counter in front of him and the recipe he didn’t quite understand. Remus never really understood the appeal of cooking, he couldn’t do it, he didn’t enjoy it and he certainly didn’t enjoy the clean up afterwards either. His mother always said that he’d have to find a partner who could cook, or to learn how to quickly. Well, jokes on her, because he did find someone who is actually good at cooking. Which made him wonder why Sirius wasn’t cooking and playing with the baby instead.

But hearing the endless laughter of Sirius and Harry made his forthcoming battle with food a bit easier to handle. He brought the recipe to the front of the counter, skimming over the words that presented themselves as jargon.

“Okay… so that much milk,” Remus whispered to himself, “I need containers right? Right.” He flung open the cupboard door, picking one of the measuring jugs and a small bowl from the thousand of plastic containers. He measured the milk, it wasn’t exact but that’s for only him to know, then added it to his ‘mixing bowl.’ Sirius said he needed that.

“Crack two eggs into a separate bowl,” He continued reading, his eyebrows furrowing with each line. Remus got another bowl out and the eggs. Well, turns out he is worse at cracking eggs than he is cooking in general. First attempt, he hit the egg against the bowl too hard and it shattered everywhere. Second attempt saw half the shell go into the bowl. Third attempt was quite alike the first. This when he started to get frustrated.

“Bloody shit!” Remus said, upon the forth egg falling out of his hands and breaking before he could even get it near the bowl. He took a breath and stood there, with the shattered egg in front of him on the floor.

“Okay, what the actual fu-”

“HEY!”

Remus turned to find Sirius standing in the lounge room, with his hands dramatically sitting on his hips. His long black hair sitting in front of his face, certain parts sticking up from where no doubt Harry had messed it up. The toddler was sitting on the couch, thumb in mouth, excitedly looking between himself and Sirius.

“Don’t you dare swear in front of the baby!” Sirius dramatically exclaimed, tilting his head slightly as he huffed and puffed, the corner of his mouth fighting off a smile. “Lily will kill me if we give Harry back swearing and cursing, Lupin!”

Remus lifted his hands up to his chest, displaying his open palm to Sirius, proclaiming his ‘innocence.’ Sirius slowly started to smile and let out a chuckle, lowering his hands from his hips as he lowered himself next to Harry. Remus found himself smiling, feeling a bit calmer than he was a minute ago.

“No swearing, Moony,” Sirius pointed his finger in Remus’ direction. “Sorry mum,” He replied, quickly flashing a wink at his boyfriend, who had already gone back to play with Harry. The short bust of silence did not last long.

Remus grabbed a few paper towels from the roll, bending down to wipe the shattered egg off the floor, then the ones on the counter. He didn’t figure there was a point in trying to save any, they could always buy more. So all failed attempts went into the bin. After some quick cleaning, he grabbed a few more eggs out of the fridge. Remus was just about to pick up the first one, to crack against the bowl when two arms wrapped around his waist from behind and he felt Sirius pressed up against him, resting his chin on Remus’ shoulder. He could sense that he was smiling, no doubt already thinking of an insult about his egg-cracking skills. Sirius and James had made immense fun of Remus in the past about how he couldn’t cook.

“You’re putting too much pressure on them,” Sirius softly said. He proceeded to wrap his hands around Remus’, guiding them as they softly cracked the egg against the bowl, and further cracked it open to let the insides fall into the bowl. Sirius had to lean around Remus to peer into the bowl, he wasn’t quite tall enough to see over his shoulder. Of course, this time there wasn’t any shell within the bowl. Remus smiled, as Sirius quickly grabbed the other egg and cracked it into the bowl, another perfect crack.

“You can’t live without me, babe,” Sirius cockily said, as he withdrew his arms, smacking Remus on the arse as he laughed and walked back to Harry. Remus shook his head and smiled, he knew the cocky remark was coming, sooner or later.

With two eggs perfectly cracked, he looked back to the recipe, moving through the steps and attempting to clean as he went. Sirius taught him it was best to clean whilst you cook, although he never understood exactly why. He had the stovetop on, the grease in pan and bread in the egg-milk mixture. So far so good. Remus moved two pieces of bread into the pan, and luckily they didn’t stick.

A few minutes later, and it was time to flip the bread. Remus caught himself holding his breath, everything had gone good so far— other than the eggs of course, but flipping was the crucial part. Remus chucked the utensil down on the counter with a heavy thud, taking a heavy breath. Both pieces of bread were burnt. He chucked the temperature down a notch, running his hands through his hair. Remus felt rather frustrated and annoyed. Any other baby-less day, he would’ve been thinking out loud and swears would take up most of his dialogue. And he probably would’ve tried to bribe James or Sirius to step in and do it for him. Everyone knew Remus and cooking didn’t exactly mix. But himself and Sirius had been trusted to babysit, and a part of that was supplying a meal, and not cursing. He took another deep breath and continued to wait and cook the bread. Wait and flip, wait and flip, try not to curse, wait and flip.

“Okay, I’m fucking done! Why is it so fucking hard?” Remus yelled, chucking the burnt bread into the bin and turning off the stovetop. “It’s just fucking bread? Fucking bastards of things.”

He continued to chuck things all over the kitchen, the utensil just made it into the sink, the bowls got shoved to the side, making loud noises as they went. It wasn’t long before everything was even more of a mess than it was before, and Remus just stood there in the kitchen, his chest heaving up and down as he took heavy breaths. He lifted his hands up, burying his face in them.

“Hey,” Sirius whispered, slowly walking over to the kitchen with Harry lifted and sitting on his hip. “Moony, hey, babe?”

Remus lowered his hands, turning to face Sirius. He went to go speak, opening his mouth slightly, but soon closed it when no words came to fruition.

“It’s okay, we all know you can’t cook,” Sirius’ tone was light and caring but with a hint of humour. “But,” he paused, hiking Harry further up his body, “you gotta stop cursing in front of the baby.”

There was a moment of silence before Remus started to laugh which Harry quickly copied and joined in. All three boys were laughing in their disaster of a kitchen, bits of eggs, milk and burnt bread all over the place. Remus made eye-contact with Sirius, smiling softly as he mouthed ‘I’m sorry.’ Sirius quickly responded, shaking his head and walking forward a few steps to gently kiss him on the cheek.

Remus took Harry out of Sirius’ arms, wrapping one arm around his legs and bottom, whilst his other hand supported his upper back and shoulders. Harry’s hair resembled James’ hair- dark, wavy and full of volume. His bright green eye’s paralleling Lily’s, having the same level of innocence and mischievous intent behind them. Harry reached for Remus’ face, playing and prodding with his cheeks, pushing around the skin and making Remus look like an utter idiot— but it made Harry laugh.

“Pete’s gonna get us drive through and bring it over,” Sirius said, walking back into the kitchen, “to save you trying to cook again, Moony.”

“Thank you Pads,” Remus replied, removing his upper hand from Harry’s back and chucked a few utensils in the kitchen sink. Sirius started to do the same, not exactly cleaning but just general tidying. It’ll make it easier for when they did eventually get around to cleaning.

Remus didn’t quite know how Sirius could make such a trivial task comforting and relaxing. He slowly rocked Harry, whilst wiping the benches with his spare hand. Sirius cleaned up the leftover food and rinsed out the bowls whilst making small, banter comments under his breath about Remus’ lack of cooking skills, and cleaning skills. It had calmed all the previous tension he was holding from his outburst with the toast.

“I’m just saying, Moony, my mother’s hair would turn instantly grey if she even looked at the mess you left our kitchen in!” Sirius exclaimed, dramatically putting his arms out for further flair.

“Lower your voice, Black,” Remus softly said, tilting his head towards Harry, who was now almost asleep, his head resting in the crook of Remus’ neck, his little hand grasped onto a section of his top. Neither of them couldn’t help but smile. “The baby’s trying to sleep.”

“Least it isn’t swearing,”

“I hate you, sometimes,”

“If only I knew how bad a cook you were before I said yes.”

Remus squinted at his boyfriend, if there wasn’t a baby in his arms, he probably would’ve tackled him. Sirius stood there, a grin plastered on his face, his hair messy and in need of a haircut, his graphic tee had no sleeves, showing off his arms quite well. Remus had briefly forgotten about their banter, taking a minute to admire Sirius’ stature, his toned arms and how he always managed to pull off ripped skinny jeans.

“Hey!” Sirius whispered with force, “I just insulted you, idiot, don’t have anything to say?”

“You’ll make up for that later, Pads.”

“Pete’s out the front,” Sirius said, with his phone in hand. “Be back in a minute.”

Remus carefully peered down at Harry, moving incredibly slowly in an attempt to not awaken him. He was fast asleep, with a small pool of drool forming onto his top. Grabbing his blanket off the top of the couch, he slowly wrapped it around Harry before placing him in his make-do bed just beside the couch. Harry settled in nicely, his face moving ever so slightly reacting to whatever that little head was dreaming about. Sirius was back rather quickly, with food in hand.

They both sat down on the couch, their bodies leaning up against each other. Sirius reached into the takeout bags, pulling out the pancakes and fries that Pete got from them. Remus quickly went for the bag chips, or the best chips, in his opinion.

“I do love you, you know,” Sirius said, with his mouth half-full, “I love you and your crappy cooking skills.”

Remus lifted his arm, wrapping it around Sirius’ shoulder, pulling him in closer towards his own body. “I love you too, I couldn’t eat without you.” He laughed, reaching for some more fries.

It was a comfortable silence within their apartment. The two of them sitting on the couch, enjoying each other’s company and physical affection, whilst Harry slept in his make-do bed beside them. The smell of fresh takeout filling their senses. It was moments like these that Remus knew he made the right decision a few years ago. When he had the choice to keep his feelings to himself or take the gamble and potentially ruin his friendship. He was incredibly grateful that he took the risk; otherwise, he wouldn’t have one of his best friends beside him, stuffing his face with chips, with his body pressed against his own. And he certainly couldn’t call that best friend his boyfriend either.

Remus squeezed Sirius into a side-on hug, resting his head against Sirius’ hair. He couldn’t help but smile whilst they both continued to eat their not-so home-cooked breakfast. It was this that he had longed and yearned for, a sweet life that he never thought he could have, let alone deserve it.

“I really fucking love you, Sirius,” he whispered, taking another bite of food. “I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Sirius turned to eye-ball Remus, smiling slightly. “I really trucking love you too, Moony,” he paused, “but how many times do I have to tell you, no swearing in front of the baby!”

“He’s asleep, idiot,”

“Still! We’d never be allowed to babysit again.”

They both started to laugh, Remus moved forward, brushing their noses together. He closed his eyes as he started to close the distance between the two of them, Remus could feel Sirius smiling as he pressed his lips against his loves. Sirius kissed back as he tilted his head up, falling perfectly together. It was soft and light, Remus' chest felt light but full of emotion at the same time. His face seemed to form a smile without putting any thought into it. He couldn’t imagine any other place that he felt more happier or safer, with his lips against Sirius’, their limbs against one another.

Sirius pulled back first, giving Remus that warm smile, the type that included his eyes, where these little lines in the outer corner of each eye would appear, and his eyebrows would lift slightly. It was when Sirius was the most beautiful.

There was a specific thought that rushed through Remus’ head. He had to actively try to stop it from coming up and out of his mouth. He couldn’t ask it yet, no, not yet. Could he?

Sirius had turned back to the remainder of the food, it gave Remus a minute to think. He’d been wanting to for months, he had pondered different moments, different ways to ask it. He had even second questioned whether they were at that point in their relationship, whether he would actually say yes. Remus knew he wanted to spend the rest of his life with Sirius, he was convinced that Sirius was the love of his life.

Remus found himself lifting his body off the couch, his legs threatening to drop out from underneath him as he walked towards their shared bedroom. He’d brought a set of rings a few months ago now, it was an impulsive buy. Remus dug them out of the hiding spot, opening the boxes and looking over them.

His chest pounded, he felt like he was dreaming- nothing seemed real, but he couldn’t help but feel that he was making the right decision. He quickly shoved the boxes in his pyjama pockets and walked back out to the lounge room.

“Sirius?” His voice shook as he spoke, he stopped a few feet in front of his unsuspecting lover. He could feel his hands getting clammy, his mouth felt dry, his heart pounded more than he had ever felt it do so before.

“Yeah, babe?” Sirius licked his fingers of sauce, looking up at him. Here goes nothing.

Remus slowly lowered down on one knee, pulling the ring box out of his pocket as he did. “Sirius Black,” he paused, opening up the box, revealing the ring and pointing it in Sirius’ direction, “I love you more than I can even begin to describe.”

“Rem-”

“Wait,” He interrupted, “I want to finish first; I wouldn’t be where I am without you. I can’t live without you. I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

Remus took a breath, he continued, “Padfoot, will you marry me?”

It felt as if the next ten seconds lasted forever, just staring at Sirius, awaiting an answer. He watched as Sirius moved the food off his lap to where he sat a minute ago, and his hand started to shake out of his control as Sirius lowered himself to the floor, level with himself.

“Yes,” He whispered, his hands clasped Remus’ shaking ones. There were a few tears forming in both of their eyes, Sirius didn’t seem to mind and just let them fall down his slightly blushed cheeks. “I’ll marry you.”

A relieved chuckle escaped Remus’ mouth, he took a heavy breath. His mind kept replaying ‘yes’ over and over again. It didn’t quite seem real. They were both crying on their lounge room floor, grasping one another. Sirius leaned forward, moving one of his hands to the side of Remus’ face, running his thumb back and forth along his cheek.

“I love you too, Moony,” Sirius cried, “so, so much.”

“Sirius Lupin has a nice ring to it,” His voice was barely audible, but he could see Sirius smile.

“It does, doesn’t it?” Sirius sniffled as he pulled the ring out of the box, offering it to Remus and held his hand out. Remus chucked the box aside, slipping the gold ring onto Sirius’ finger, it matched his skin tone immensely. “It’s beautiful, Moony.”

The silence was full and warm, there weren't any words that came to either of their minds. It was truly the perfect moment.

Remus gripped onto Sirius, not wanting to let him out his arms, and he moved them both against the side of the couch. Sirius quickly settled in his lap, resting his head against his upper chest, there wasn’t a doubt that he could hear how fast and loud his heart was beating. Remus shut his eyes and lifted his hand to play with his now-fiance’s hair. Smooth as silk, like normal with a slight scent of pine. It was another one of Remus’ favourite things about his partner.

“You’re stuck with me forever now, you realise that right, Lupin?”

“Well, you’re stuck with my cooking, babe.”

#remus lupin #sirius black #wolfstar #remus john lupin #moony #sirius x lupin #sirius orion black #padfoot #the marauders #marauders fandom #james potter #jily #harry potter #hpedit #hp #hp fandom #hp fanfic #fluff #wolfstar fluff #wolfstar fic #sirius black x remus lupin

[flubnuggetpurple]

Dove Cameron’s Alchemical album is so fucking bat coded I feel like a conspiracy theorist.

(This went off the rails at one point, so WARNING: vague mentions of sexual assault and being drugged without consent)

First song: Lethal Woman.

Cass, all over, right? The bridge is “she walks like a saint, floats like an angel, sharp like a knife under the table”

c o m e o n

Second song: Still.

“Man on the screen, they only see whatever you want them to see” and “Supernova self-erasing, hourglass is always draining”

Could be either Tim or Bruce, but I lean toward Tim because of “how dare you, dare me to love you, if you jump I will too” because whenever Tim decides he loves someone, he’s the ride or die, ends of the earth type, even if they don’t even know who he is. A) how and why he became Robin in the first place, B) The Cloning Thing, C) an argument could be made for the Captain Boomerang thing (but now that I think of it, I think I’m mostly basing this off fanon oh well ontotgenextone).

Song Three: Breakfast.

I will admit out the gate that this one’s a reach, so I’m just going to leave Selina here.

Song Four: Sand.

For this I’m thinking Tim or Jason, for different reasons.

For Tim;

“I saw the end when we began, you couldn’t love the way I can, I tried to bargain with the stars, for more than half your heart but you have more pieces of me than the dessert has sand, and I have less pieces of you than I could hold in my hand” and “our love’s misaligned, ‘cause you’re on my mind every night, I stretch out the time, and now I know why.”

I’m just making it obvious I read the Red Robin run, aren’t I?

For Jason:

“What's worse, being wanted but not loved, or loved but not wanted? What's worse, hearing what you wanna hear, or hearing what's honest?” And “What hurts, is the one thing that you wanna do, is the one thing that you shouldn’t do”

Pre-death Jason, but like, right after the Garzonas thing.

Song five: White Glove.

Okay hear me out.

This is part one of the Dick Grayson saga; the persona he shows to the public. This is Richie Wayne. This is every honeypot mission he went on too young, every woman he’s had to seduce for information (it’s one hundred percent happened before don’t fight me) every source of sexual trauma (that one I’m ninety percent sure is canon) that keeps him up at night.

And this guy’s been a vigilante for over twenty years, he can absolutely recognize drugs by sight, smell, and how they feel when he’s too late to notice something slipped in his drink. He’s felt nearly every strain of fear toxin and every one of Ivy’s pollens. If anyone knows their drugs it’s pretty boy Richie Wayne and Robin.

Song six: God’s Game

This one I’m definitely taking some lines out of context, but for Jason, “Just a boy with a man's face, playin' God's game” is when he’s taking over Crime Alley, pit-mad and trigger happy. “I prepare with so much care, I was runnin', it was stunnin', I am desperate from delusions, not much of a solution, never knowin' what the truth is, oh, God” is when hid plans start to fall apart, when Bruce slits his throat with a batarang, when eventually the pit-madness eventually starts to wear off and he realizes what all he did to Tim, who was a child at the time, not to mention Robin.

He nearly became what the Joker was to him to the next Robin, and I feel like at some point that would occur to him.

Song seven: Boyfriend.

(…Admittedly, I don’t think this one has any grounding in canon and if it does, feel free to educate me.)

So, obviously I could mention Kate Kane at this point, but I know basically nothing about her, so instead I’m going to talk about Steph.

So Steph has definitely had some shitty experiences with guys, right? Like, her dad to begin with, but also the guy who got her pregnant (at like fourteen? Maybe I’m just sheltered, but I don’t think anything about that relationship was heathy—again, I haven’t read many of the comics, so correct me if I’m wrong), then Tim, which, I love him as a character, but didn’t he date her in the mask for like, months, and I have some vague recollections of some dickish things he said (i know i know i need to read more comics)—whatever. Men are shitty.

I have a scene in my head. Like, Steph’s in college, at a bar with friends or something, maybe it’s an under cover op, idk, and there’s this girl she’s been lowkey watching all night. She doesn’t quite know why, but she just keeps catching her eye, and okay, it’s not like she’s never questioned her sexuality, she knows Cass. There have been Extensive conversations with Babs on the subject.

Anyway, so at some point, there’s obviously some sort of argument between the girl and the guy she came with and the girl’s crying, and Steph just Can’t Handle That.

She goes up to her, comforts her, makes a new friend, listens to the whole story.

And at some point, she has the thought.

“I could be a better boyfriend than him.”

She doesn’t necessarily do anything about it that night, but now that she’s had the thought, it won’t leave her alone.

Yeah. So. Maybe I’ll write that story later.

Song eight (last song): FRAGILE THINGS.

Dick Grayson part two; So your mentor (dad) just died, leaving you an angry murder child, another one hanging on by a thread after losing eighty percent of his support system, a grieving butler (grandfather), and a mantle the size of the Most Dangerous City in America. Any direction you move is going to hurt someone, and one kid is more likely to snap and murder people than the other, and hey, if you have to be Batman anyway, might as well let your brilliant kid brother be Nightwing, right? Except, whoops, you forgot to mention that last part and now Timmy thinks you just replaced him without telling him and fuck you knew you were forgetting something and now there’s a goddamned imposter Bruce and—

“Love is like a house of fragile things, where hearts can be broken as easy as antiques, and now there’s glass all shattered at my feet, what we built together, you left in smithereens.”

Anyway. This got kind of incoherent (or maybe it was from the start?)

I accidentally added a poll at the bottom and can’t figure out how to remove it, so.

#batfam #batman #cassandra cain #tim drake #jason todd #dick grayson #stephanie brown headcanon #stephanie brown #damian not included bc he’s baby #dick has so much trauma that just never comes up what must his brain be like #is he on meds? he probably should be #actually all the bats should be but we all knew that #it was so tempting to put tim for breakfast for gender reasons but i think i’ll do that on ao3 instead #this is so long #im so tired #im sorry #is this was a shitpost is? nobody asked for this #i didn’t ask for this #also i maybe running a fever #im going to bed now

[infected-paul]

could you summarize the lore drops? its gonna be a while until im able to watch the stream :/

Disclaimer: I watched bits and pieces of the stream off and on again with very bad connection, so I have not picked up on everything!!! I think you might be better answered by someone else but, still, thanks for thinking of me, I hope this helps somewhat!!

Spoilers for Pit Stop in Hatchetfield below:

Charles yellow jacket is Charles Coven, owner of CCRP he is the coven in the name!!!!

Dan and Donna are smoke club members.

They were both! present at the protest at the Hatchetfield kennel.

They dropped lore on the problematic puppy but i missed that.

Miss Holloway got to be a bit bitchy and i loved that she is so fucking badass bro.

They read through a scene of Bottle Imps and two (or three?) scenes of Miss Holloween.

Extreme bouts of Hollo-lore.

She is concerningly chill about sacrificing herself.

She has had enough! of giving herself up when it all inevitably is pointless. She's done her fair share of good!! She deserves to do something for herself for once, god damn it.

The Lords in Black appear as children! in cute little onesies. They seem to like Miss Holloway.

She has multiple names, she wants back her real, true one. There's one Wiggly wants.

Tinky smittenly repeats that Miss Holloway thinks he's cute! (she said it about all 5 of them)

Charles used to work in government (possibly PEIP) and he knows President Howard Goodman.

Miss Holloway revokes her deal with the Lords in Black. Implications... Think of them.

They mention a girl she saved ten years prior who didn't make it during that decade. It hits Miss Holloway hard. to the point she decides to turn back on her deal.

Brenda, the cheerleader from NPMD is a waitress at Miss Retro's!

Kyle went to college and Brenda failed. They are no longer together.

Duke helped Holloway set up an email! She is not good with this stuff.

New characters revealed:

Pastor Todd (Jon), a man that Riley's mother enlists to try and help her son. He does not what he's doing and calls Holloway.

Riley, a kid who finds a mask which attachs itself to and possesses him.

Monster Mask (Jeff), a mask that's a demonic entity of some sort.

Blaire (Mrah), Riley's mother.

Tucker the Fucker: Brenda's boyfriend. He sucks ass. Miss Holloway doesn't like him.

That's all I can remember at the moment, anon! I'm so sorry this is hours late, I got busy, but I hope this helps!!! If I remember more, I might edit this. (This does not touch on the death match. Unfortunately, I can't recap that)

#ask ali #anonymous #starkid #hatchetfield

[lazycranberrydoodles]

COME ON GUYS DON'T LET DIANXIA DOWN

#images i drew on my phone approximately 90 seconds before class started #tma vs tgcf is pitting two bad bitches against each other but #from the other guys propaganda he is apparently a beloved side character #which i totally understand. #BUT HUA CHENG IS THE DEUTERANTAGONIST WHO LOVED XIE LIAN SO MUCH IT UNDOOMED HIM FROM THE NARRATIVE #HE DIDNT CLAW HIS WAY OUT OF TONGLU TO BE BEATEN LIKE THIS #also tma has gay people that dont undoom each other from the narrative. L + ratio (/j/j/j/j we all love tragedies here) #hua cheng will never rest in peace and he doesn't want to because he has a smokin boyfriend #they are both angry goths but has gerry died THREE TIMES????? no. just once. lame. #gerry got his skin bound into a necromancy book that was eventually burned but hua cheng ripped out his eye to craft a sickass scimitar !!! #hua cheng haunts the narrative before he dies in a hundred tiny ways and then HEAVILY after he dies a second time #he's an awesome city owner and has violent beef with HEAVEN. and he carves statues and paints and builds temples #and is also a self conscious loser <3 #his gay awakening was intensely traumatic and religious for everybody involved. and he's had the same life mission since he was 10 #he is actively fighting ghost discrimination and getting dangerous magical items off of the normal human market #also he is always bedecked in elaborate silver and chains and eyeliner and ALWAYS in blood red clothes #HE CAN MAKE IT RAIN BLOOD!!???!?!? ALSO #he stick and poked his god's name on himself but his handwriting is so bad it's unrecognizable and the signs he puts up have evil auras #this has ceased to be propaganda. now im just gushing. only tgcf fans will see this anyway. whatever youre getting blorbo rant #tgcf #art #poll #hua cheng #lmao #my art #tian guan ci fu #hualian #xie lian #hob #heaven official's blessing

[recurring-polynya]

if you, as an author, create a minor character who is important to one of your primary characters, and then kill them off so the main character will be sad, know this: i hate you. i am biting you. i hope you get a hangnail and that the grocery store is out of your preferred plant milk.

#i got nothing against killing off characters! just let them have their own damn arc!! #or if you need a dead bestie(tm) *do it in flashback*. let them be a ghost! ghosting the narrative whips ass!!! #for the record this is in reference to an actual novel i am reading not a fanfic #not naming names but i am 300 pages into an 800pg book and they just axed two best friends a spouse and some girl no one liked all that muc #oh and someone's boyfriend too! #this was in three separate incidents! on different continents! it's not even like they all died in one natural disaster. #it's pretty good otherwise so i'll probably finish it but i am gonna stay mad about it

[emile-hides]

Big buncha Mario Characters in my style + Headcanons

#Emile's Arts #Mario Fanart #PLEASE click for better quality the Koopaling line up I'm insane about it #I had to put all my Koopaling thoughts down somewhere for me personally #This started as I should have an easier way to access Mario and Luigi's color pallet #And then I just. Kept putting off coloring fdgjfdkg #I HATE coloring HATE IT I'm SO BAD will color pallets fkgjkdfjkg #I tried I TRIED I gave a very genuine try to Bowser at first #My boyfriend has the only record of that attempt because I deleted it yesterday out of frustration #I will forever draw him just a Box of a guy I'm sorry #I WANTED to give him thick thighs and the tumby but it wasn't working out he's not made to have a knee #I'm really struggling with legs again recently I'm just not doing them #I still feel like Peach is too mono color with the pastel pink but idk how to fix it so #We live like this I suppose #It's almost 4am #There's an optimal time to post your art to get engagement and this is not it chief #but I don't CARE this was a three day endeavor #I kept trying to think of more characters to add #but it always circled back around to Paper Mario characters #So I decided to call it quits with Vivian and Peasley #HOT TAKE #Peasley and Vivian are the Same Character Type #And I think they'd get along #This is unrelated to anything I was just thinking that as I struggled to draw Vivian for 40 minutes #Anyway #I dunno how much more Mario I'll post on the main I am still thinking about Gooigi my baby girl #We'll see #Now then off to bed to comatose till next Monday #Seeyas

[emily-mooon]

I have a Nordegrim AU idea! (again)

It’s hard to explain but Neil has seven evil ex arcade rivals that Stacey has to beat up in order to be able to go on arcade dates with him.

#that’s it in simple terms #It’s still a WIP as I only came up with it like 30 minutes ago #and while trying to make the first edition of this post I came up with better ideas than the ones I had at first #and even while making this post I came up with more so this idea isn’t set in stone #i know for a fact Neil’s unused girlfriend Lainey is the seventh evil rival #don’t know who the rest are but I’ll figure it out eventually #oh and the rivals can also be ex boyfriends girlfriends or partners #and this also takes place shortly after the events in the comic #but yeah anyways I headcanon that Stacey likes fighting games #it probably doesn’t make sense for her character as Scott’s the more nerdy of the three pilgrim siblings #but Stacey is a bit of a nerd as she does have a Mario star shirt and has been known to throw game controllers (I think) #this is was all made cause I was drawing Stacey in Cody’s outfit from final fight #and that happened cause of a bunch of doodles I made #scott pilgrim #young neil #neil nordegraf #stacey pilgrim #nordegrim #stacey pilgrim x neil nordegraf

[marypsue]

(For the record, while we're on the subject of meta-slasher-influenced story ideas, the 'what if Jade Daniels and the ghost of Eddie Munson were best friends and travelled the country fighting horror movie slashers together, and also the narrative was alive and trying to eat them' story idea turned out to have legs, and it's fucking running. I am just trying to keep up.)

#and also make myself attached enough to the other characters to make them interesting #but not so attached that I can't kill them off in brutal and graphic ways #it is a fine line. and a difficult one to tread. #(i'm currently on the fence about whether the Quirky Best Friend survives #and the Boyfriend of the Couple Who Have Sex In The Woods) #i realised like three scenes in that. when it's fan fiction. #everybody who reads it knows that yes actually these two main characters ARE innocent of the mass murders that have been laid at their feet #because those readers have seen the rest of their stories for themselves! #BUT. when I file the serial numbers off. you really only have their words for it #since this story picks up after all of that is already backstory #and as soon as I realised that was when the characters sat up and started breathing on their own #and this story really became something of its own instead of just 'i filed the serial numbers off' #listen. late at night. sometimes. i Will talk about my origfic. this is absolutely a threat.

[forcedhesitation]

I'm actually still pretty disappointed about the changes that were made to implicate a canon relationship between gortash and the dark urge. you are given so much choice in this game! so it feels shitty that they took away your choice to interpret that dynamic how you'd like.

I had a dark urge campaign that I started and no longer will finish because I don't want that to sully my character's romance with wyll. it angers me enough how wyll is given barely any material for not just his story, but also his romance. like it's so unfair that rather than new material added to wyll's romance, all I was going to get was lines about how my character had a relationship with a fucking fascist. load of shit that is.

#bg3 #thoughts about media #I'm deeply upset about things to do with real life that are unrelated to this and that I do not want to talk about. #but justifiably complaining about media I care about? I have a degree in complaining about media. I can do that. #anyway. I had a really cool character planned and now I have to now reinvent him or make a new one. #likely the latter because he doesn't really make sense as a character at all if he's not a bhaalspawn. #and no I refuse to romance someone else. I want to finish wyll's story with the romance involved. #I only recently managed to finish astarion's because I finally got myself to focus enough to finish ONE campaign. #I really wish I had finished two by now. so I could have finished the dark urge and seen what the story was like without any changes. #also no I cannot ignore these changes. I think gort's a GREAT villain. but I don't want to fuck him. I don't get how people DO. #out of the chosen three he's easily the fucking worst and a kind of evil that can't really be understood as “fun” or “fantastical” #whereas ketheric and orin are largely fantastical in what they do and what they represent. #that people cheer over canon durgetash despite the atrocious way larian continues to treat wyll? #I loathe it. #I. have. a few ideas for a new character. I know I want him to have daddy issues because that's what urged me to romance wyll with durge. #boyfriends with daddy issues is not only interesting. but hot. so I want to keep that element. #idk if I'll keep the paladin I made though. or go an entirely different direction. #because in the process of trying to reinterpret my bhaalspawn into a tav...I had a rather clever idea that I'm liking more and more.

[bluehairperson]

Did you like Lucio more before or after he became a better person, I personally liked him before.

I never thought about making a clear cut distinction between the two! I usually always perceive him as a whole.

I'd say he's more interesting as a villain and as a generally mean/morally grey person, but I don't mind him becoming a "golden retriever" boyfriend.

I would like to see more canon content with the old messed up Lucio and I think the devs are kinda wasting him, but I also think his development makes sense.

#brand #I know my is more about things being cute and funny but I also really like angst and when characters are fucked up and toxic #it would have been super interesting to have a romance with the old messed up evil lucio but I understand the devs tried to make him more #palatable to general audiences #even tho I've seen people not liking his character development I think it make sense honestly #even before the plague his arrogance and bravado personality was all about wanting to be liked so I think it makes sense that he's more #desperate and willing to adapt to anything after three years of solitary confinement and sensory deprivation just to be around someone #welp I have fics to satisfy my will to see lucio being a toxic possessive boyfriend I guess #I love him no matter what honestly :) ♥ #asks

[cycloplasm]

my fanart phase is still very much ongoing, but i still think about ocs and am figuring things out with my worldbuilding! i just have no idea how to explain it.

Safe for one thing! I changed Quibris (pictured below) pronouns from they/them to xe/xir. I think it fits xem better. Everything else about xem is still legit, especially xir queerplatonic relationship with Cedra. Them holding hands, and said hands being visible in the sky of Futh is considered an omen of great joy to come anyone who witnesses the event 💖

#thats a post i made! #my world is called Futh and it's a fantasy world with 1950s level technology. #i also figured out Futh's 'present'- or rather how i want to portray things #there's basically the Pre-moon breaking era- where things are 'normal' and Quibris and Cedra are together #then there's the role trade- with Cedra creating life despite knowing nothing about biology/anatomy/anything- #and Quibris making biometal lifeforms to get rid of things and (mortal) people that create more harm than good #the trade goes very badly and sends the entire planet's population in utter despair. if i ever make stories it'll be in that period of time #and then there's the post moon-breaking era- that started when Cedra realized his lifeforms were bad and chose to take them all to #Futh's mantle- and seal them within alobg with himself to avoid further harm. Essentially divorce era #Both Quibris and Cedra are extremely sad and aren't fond of all the lifeforms they made during their trade. Quibris seals xirself as well in #a tower in Futh. This leads to the planet not being watched over and one of the three moons being destroyed by an asteroid #this the shortest description of my setting i can do these days so here's your context for mostly everything #oh there's Fruitbugs too. It's a DS-tier game with sentient characters in it. All characters have a bug true form and a human looking one to #appear alien but attractive to Futh ppl (which are mostly invertebrates+merpeople and very few mammals). no actual humans they dont exist in #my universe. the fruitbugs are the closest thing that look humanoid and even then they're not good at it. #and they're fictional in-universe so humans are fake. But somethibg true. All fruitbugs are my boyfriends. #but they can be yours too!! just be non-sexi/suggestive abt it

[xxsabitoxx]

Stay Quiet

Yuta x Fem! Reader Smut / characters are 18+

Warnings: semi-public sex, hotel sex, sex with someone else sleeping in the room, titty worship, raw sex, creampies, squirting

A/N: Baby boy is backkkkkk _:(´ཀ`」 ∠): since I feel like I’ve forgotten how to write smut… here is a smut imagine :D

Word count: 1.7k

“Y-yuta~”

Your back is arching into him, hand slapping over your mouth to try and suppress your whimpers. Your boyfriend isn’t listening to your quiet pleas, his head under your shirt, his lips wrapped around one of your nipples.

His only response is stopping his sucking to bite instead, earning a sharp cry from your lips that you quickly try and smother. Beside you, the bed is rustling as Inumaki tosses and turns in his sleep.

Not even a vacation with long time friends in a shared hotel room with two beds would stop Yuta from having his way with you. So long as you kept quiet…

“Yuta please…” you begging him, tone soft but labored as his hand tightened its grip on your side. Still, he didn’t respond, mouth far too preoccupied to speak.

You could only imagine the mess he was making, littering your skin in bruises and saliva to make you his. He’s always adored your breasts, both in the sexual and non-sexual sense. Sometimes he just needed to hold them, other times he needed to fuck them.

You never complained, not when he worshiped you the way he did… the way he was right now.

You could feel your eyes threatening to roll back, his tongue flicking at the sensitive bud as his thigh pressed further to your covered cunt. You were soaked, Yuta could feel the dampness through your night shorts as they pressed into his bare thigh.

Yuta left your breast alone, kissing the bruises he left before turning his head to the one he had been neglecting. It sent a whole new wave of pleasure through you, hand pressing to your mouth tighter as you couldn’t contain your whine.

He nipped at your skin, just hard enough to leave teeth indents that would turn into pretty bruises.

Your hips jerked as he bite down on your nipple, pain and pleasure making you clench around nothing. Your cunt dragged along his thigh, too many layers separating you to gain any real satisfaction from the friction.

“A-at least fuck me, Yuta.” You begged him, hand slotting back over your mouth as he sucked your neglected nipple. Still, you were left with no response, nothing but his hips jerking against your abdomen told you that he had heard your quiet plea.

You felt him, hard and heavy resting on your abdomen, straining in his briefs. If it weren’t for the sheer amount of body heat from being under the covers, you’d have been able to to feel the wet patch forming on the front of him.

Yuta indulged himself further, practically moaning as his hips rolled against you. “N-not fair.” You breathed, one of your hands coming down to rest on top of his head, not able to reach his hair since he was protected by your shirt. “So hot… Yuta I’m hot…”

You knew it was useless, he wasn’t going to stop anything he was doing until he was good and ready.

You could feel it though, your skin was starting to turn slick with sweat. So was Yuta’s, but that didn’t seem to phase him at all. Not when he was lathering your breast with his tongue and whining as he rut his hips against your abdomen.

So needy yet so controlling.

It was a dizzying mix, being completely at his mercy.

Your hips rolled against his thigh, trying to create some sort of relief since he was purposely ignoring you. Three rolls of your hips and Yuta’s grip was tightened, stopping you from moving all together as he released your nipple with a soft pop.

“So fucking needy.”

He practically seethed, pulling his head out from under your shirt to glare at you. “M-me?” You whisper yelled, face warm from anger and need. “Yes you.” Yuta shot back, the anger on his face didn’t concern you.

Not when you could feel his cock twitching.

“We’re both needy, you’re just mean, Yuta.” Your lip wobbled, head turning to look at the other hotel bed. Inumaki had seemed to settle into a deep sleep, back facing the two of you.

“Eyes on me.”

You shivered involuntarily, head turning back to face Yuta in record time. “If I fuck you, you need to keep quiet.” You nodded eagerly, but Yuta wasn’t satisfied.

“Promise me you’ll stay quiet.” You felt your breathing stop, taking a moment to start again as you quietly whispered “I promise.” Yuta still seemed skeptical.

“I still don’t believe you.” He mumbled as he began pulling down his briefs, just enough for his cock to spring free. “Yuta I mean it.” You whined, hands rushing to yank your sleep shorts and panties off for him.

“You’re never quiet, pretty girl.” Warmth flooded you, causing you to suck your lip between your teeth as your hips raised. Yuta helped you despite scolding you, tossing the two clothing items off to the side.

“If you can’t stay quiet, I’ll stop.”

You nodded, taking your vow to silence literally as his fist wrapped around his cock. Your legs spread further to accommodate him, cunt throbbing with the desire for him to be inside of you.

“Tell me you understand, pretty girl.”

He froze just as he positioned himself at your entrance, teasing you further by prolonging what you needed. “I understand, Yuta.” And he pressed in, watching your mouth fall open as your chest rose and froze.

You were good, holding in the moan that was threatening to burst your lungs as he sunk deep. Your cunt had no resistance, swallowing his cock whole as he bottomed out inside of your tight heat. “Good girl.” He groaned.

Your hands found their way to his biceps, nails digging into his muscles as your legs locked around his hips. You managed to exhale the breath you had been holding, barely making a noise louder than a pant.

Yuta wasted no time, hips drawing back and snapping forward. Your head fell back against the pillow, mouth open as a quiet gasp left you. He was focused, head dipping down to watch where he appeared and disappeared inside of you.

Never mind being mindful of the noises you were making, Yuta had to be mindful of the noises your bodies made. Anything louder than the squelching and bed creaking and he was certain Inumaki would be waking up.

But it was hard to be rational when your cunt was suctioning to him, velvety walls begging to milk him for all he was worth. He’d give it to you, no questions asked.

Every drag of his cock had you arching, scratching at his biceps as sweat dripped down your brow. You couldn’t think straight, breath catching in your lungs every few thrusts as you tried to ignore the urge to scream his name. “K-kiss me.” You managed to choke out.

It certainly wasn’t a whisper, the rustling in the bed over confirmed that. Yuta dropped lower, practically draping his body over you, hips rolling slowly rather than thrusting as he slotted his lips over yours.

Still, he was listening, silently praying Inumaki wouldn’t wake up because dammit he was certain he wouldn’t be able to stop fucking you even if he did.

“Y-Yuta-“ it was muffled, swallowed whole by his tongue slipping past your lips. You gave in, nearly melting into the mattress from his weight settling on you, the close proximity causing his pubic bone to brush your clit.

You felt it then, molten hot arousal pooling in your gut as he offered to the slightest bit of relief.

Yuta pulled away, saliva keeping your lips connected. “You have to be quiet, pretty girl. He almost woke up.” You nodded, eyes so bleary and lips so swollen that he couldn’t bring himself to really scold you.

Yuta found his pace again, hips smacking into yours and creating a soft slap that was just barely muffled by the hotel comforter. He was struggling to contain his own noises as your cunt clenched around him, one of your hands falling away from his bicep to sneak between you.

“Rub your clit for me, pretty girl. Make yourself cum on my cock.” It was a whisper but it seemed to echo off the walls of your skull, rendering you completely speechless.

You did as he asked, hand slipped down to feel your soaked cunt, rubbing your clit in face circles as Yuta’s cock stroked your sweet spot. “Make yourself cum on my cock, please. You know how much I love that.”

You nodded, mouth hanging open as breathless pants slipped past. They were quiet enough to not wake Inumaki but if anyone were to enter the room, it would be painfully obvious what was happening.

Yuta watched you, eyes torn between watching your tits bounce with each thrust and watching where his cock kept disappearing inside of you. It was utterly entrancing, making him gasp as his cock twitched violently within your walls.

“I’m gonna cum, pretty girl. Cum with me please.”

His voice cracked, face sweaty and flushed as he begged you so sweetly. It sent electricity straight down your spine, clit throbbing as your orgasm built. The thrusts got harder, a little sloppier… and louder.

Not that Yuta could care in that moment, he seemed to forget everything he had been drilling in your head as he moaned your name. You whined, eyes widening at the volume of his voice as your walls clenched again.

You were close, fueled by the feeling of his cock twitching deep inside of you. “Cum with me, please.”

Breathless, you nodded, head falling back as you brought yourself over the edge just as Yuta did. His hips stuttering before burying deep, pushing against your cervix as he spilled his load in you.

You had barely registered the warm gush that flooded between your thighs, not until Yuta collapsed on top of you. “Fuck.” You offered weakly, feeling the dampness on the sheets below accompanied by your sweaty skin.

“We made a mess.” Yuta’s tone was sheepish, vibrating your neck as he spoke into it. “It definitely reeks of sex in here too…” you felt your face burning, realizing there wasn’t any windows open to allow ventilation.

“He’ll figure it out regardless.” Yuta sounded defeated but you could feel a smile on his face. “I’ll take the blame… since I’m the one who can’t resist your breasts.”

“You better.”

#banner from cafekitsune #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen drabbles #jujutsu kaisen imagine #yuuta okkotsu x reader #okkotsu yuuta #yuta okkotsu x reader #yuta okkutsu #okkotsu yuta #yuta headcanons #yuuta x reader #jjk yuuta #yuuta smut #yuuta x you #yuta smut #jujutsu kaisen okkotsu #yuta okkotsu #jjk okkotsu #yuuta okkotsu smut #jjk drabbles #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #jujutsu kaisen fanfic

[gremlingottoosilly]

I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin. 

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm. 

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after. 

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well. 

— I’ll find something to eat, alright? 

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged. 

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you. 

— Ah…your father is at home? 

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was. 

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you. 

— You didn’t tell him about me? 

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly. 

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh. 

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart. 

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home. 

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed. 

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen. 

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid. 

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished. 

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel. 

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son. 

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl. 

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it? 

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years. 

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like. 

— Ja. You can have it. 

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it. 

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you. 

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him. 

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home. 

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you. 

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom. 

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you. 

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet. 

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz. 

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce. 

— What do you mean by this, sir? 

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally. 

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid. 

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship. 

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you. 

König is. 

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you. 

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man. 

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this. 

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father. 

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too. 

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir. 

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing. 

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all. 

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks. 

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies. 

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right? 

You look like a good candidate. 

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz. 

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left. 

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here. 

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body. 

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him. 

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is. 

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway. 

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all. 

— I don’t want to break his heart. 

— He doesn’t have one. 

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it. 

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted. 

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game. 

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later. 

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum. 

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please” 

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable. 

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later. 

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before. 

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people. 

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right. 

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore. 

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid. 

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second. 

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this. 

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it. 

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed. 

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good. 

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father. 

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it? 

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul. 

— I’ll tell him. 

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck. 

— I need to return to my dorm. 

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja? 

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right. 

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen. 

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked. 

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are. 

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja? 

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes. 

#cod #konig x reader #yandere konig #konig #cod x reader #call of duty #cod x you #yandere cod #konig mw2 #reader insert #yandere x reader

[audisive]

♪ BROOKLYN BABY. (💌) – previous part

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: the 141 believes the scot now.

tags: fluff, romance, soft!simon, you're basically their mom atp lol, bickering, there's a bet between gaz n soap, gaz secretly wants you shh, ooc characters, not proofread, price being the gentleman he is, he's seriously just watching everything unfold

       It's not always that Ghost is willing to let the 141 stay at his house for their traditions – which is just drinking beer and watching sports, really. In fact, he's always said something about his place being empty, so they always settled on someone else's. They stop asking after a year, and in turn, he stops having reasons.

It's not until Soap pops the question again when everyone else's houses are unavailable for a variety of reasons, his being that he left his faucet on and now his shitty apartment is flooded. You can only imagine the suspicion and shock when Ghost agrees (or, rather, simply grunts).

The drive is long, nothing short of 5 hours, and Soap spends the better half of it bickering with either Gaz or Ghost. He falls asleep by the next half, and when he awakes, he gawks at the lovely looking house before their car. There's two stories to it, a balcony, a front porch, and there's no doubt that there's a backyard.

Contrary to popular belief, no, it is not all black or plain at all. It's all equally surprising to them. The Brit isn't the type to care about the appearance and state of a house, usually. They do envision him in a mostly empty apartment with only a bed and a bathroom, though.

There's a delicate touch to where a rough man lives; the smell is almost heavenly when they enter the house. It's homely, the scent of newly washed sheets and lingering smell of food; there's a cat perched on the living room table that Ghost scratches the head of lovingly in a way that's so casual and natural. It's like they're at the gates of–

"Simon!" Heaven's bells ring in their ears, luring them into the doorway of the living room, and the sound of feet padding against the cold floor. There comes a soft-looking thing running into Ghost's arms, completely engulfing you.

You only notice the three familiar faces of your boyfriend's team members – though you know he considers them family if anything – when you pull away. An angel clad in only a cami top, shorts, and Simon's hand around your waist, you turn to look at the group with a surprised look on your pretty – Soap thinks that God, you're so pretty – face. "Oh, hi," you smile sweetly, obviously awkward at the silence and the staring.

"It's been a while," Ever the gentleman, the gruff voice is the first to speak up with your name uttered, the only who's actually met you – John Price. Soap is too enamored with the way you hold yourself and the fact that, holy fuck, even your name's pretty. Gaz raises a brow at the captain's greeting.

You smile once more – a genuine one now. "Nice to see you again, John."

"'S rude to stare, Johnny." Simon speaks out, a smirk under the mask. "Please excuse him, miss," Gaz adds, this beautiful man, and offers a charming smile.

"You must be Gaz," you hold your hand out, "it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Pleasure's all mine," Kyle forgets that a hand could be this soft and gentle, "and please, call me Kyle." He barely stops himself from turning your hand in his to kiss the back of it like one should to a lady so fair; his lieutenant has good taste in women, he'll give him that. And when you're out of the area, Soap is sure to rub it in Gaz's face. I told ye so! LT wis hidin' somethin' from us. A pretty something, that is. You don't miss the way he slips a twenty-dollar bill into the Scottish man's hand.

"Glad tae meet ye," Soap finally says, winking. "Understand why he wis hidin' a bonnie lass like ye from us." There's a mischievous glint in his eye, almost naturally so.

"A'm hurt, LT, but whit can I do? After all, we're just a couple o' brutes, arenae we?"

Simon watches in amusement, "you'll live." Soap is quick to move to your side as you lead the small group of hulking men through your shared home after that.

Simon is visibly more relaxed with you around. He's comfortable, that much is a given, with the way he's taking up most of the thankfully large couch with his manspreading. So is the 141. They're pampered like spoiled children (or pets, really) through the whole day.

Instead of just beer and faucet water, they're offered a variety of drinks in the kitchen that's enough to be considered a private bar. Instead of an empty belly unhealthily stuffed with beer and a mix of mediocre takeout, they're met with warm homecooked meals. They lose track of time quickly; the night falls by the time they've tired themselves out, and they've had not one, but two meals thanks to you.

(They're sure to commend your cooking skills and think of how lucky this tall brute of a man is blessed with a woman so soft and pliant and wonderful and– while Price is the one to be the most grateful, Soap compliments you the most. "A can practically taste the love." You laugh in turn.)

Gaz is the first to speak after a meal so lovely, they could simply just sleep on the floor comfortably and wake to the same smell of home. "It's a bit late, love, we should probably go."

"Thank you for having us," Price smiles down at you kindly.

"Ye've been lovely, bonnie." He wants to stay some more.

"Wait," you stop them, looking up at Simon for further approval. He's already looking at you with a reassuring brush of his thumb on the side of your hip and a nod. You turn your eyes back at them. "It's already late, you three should stay the night. We have enough room for everyone."

There comes, "we don't wanna intrude," then, "we can take care of ourselves, it's alright."

"Please, I insist." Your smile brightens, "I'll even cook breakfast before you leave."

The mohawk moves with a sigh, "now tha's just no' fair, lass. How are we gonna say no tae that?" You giggle. Only then do they find themselves tucked away in the guest room, and boy, you were right when you said it could fit them all if not more.

On the way to the bathroom in the late hours of the night, Soap catches a glimpse of light through the crack of your bedroom door to see his oh-so strong lieutenant, vulnerable in your arms. There's something natural about the way you cradle the large man and kiss his hair like it's part of your DNA, like you're programmed to do that 'cause Soap thinks you're simply unreal.

He's proud of his lieutenant, this lucky bastard. He turns another blind eye once more, but he's paid in full with another fulfilling meal by the morning.

#౨ৎ simon ! #୨୧ audi's works ! #finally did this omg #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader #ghost x reader #ghost x you #simon ghost riley x you #cod mw #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod #ghost cod #cod x reader #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod x you #fluff #cod fluff #romance #ghost #john price #kyle gaz garrick #kyle garrick #gaz cod #gaz garrick

[sharkieboi]

texts im not going to send to my sister but I really want to:

“I’m sorry your wedding isn’t the only major thing happening in everyone else’s lives and that certain extra credit things you want for it have not or may not happen because the people around you also have lives”

#shhh sharkie #okay so. she asked me to draw a thing for her. and was not specific on the style #so i drew the fucking hydrangea. and it already took me a while! cause that’s a complicated flower! #and also edited it twice for her!!! she had seen the illustration at least three times!!! #and then she’s like. actually can you completely start over and do it in this style instead #me ​fully doing a table flip in my brain instead of flipping her off irl #and then like. i have my own life. i’ve got my own shit going on. #and she texts me ‘how is the drawing coming along’ #and i genuinely respond that my personal and professional life has been a shitshow so i genuinely havent touched the art in months #and she responds all self-guilty like ‘oh okay sorry for bothering you and wasting your time’ #and literally nothing gets my fucking goat like people trying to guilt trip like that #i fucking hate it. she was like ‘sorry for bothering you i guess i’ll go’ and i was hard like ur not bothering me #im just reminding you that you aren’t the main character #even if you’re getting married #everyone else’s lives still exist. #i haven’t done any drawing at ALL in MONTHS. #it’s not about your wedding icon thing specifically. my life exists and that means i haven’t done art at all in a while #ugh ready to throw both her and her boyfriend out the window with this wedding shit im so done.