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beauleifu · 1 year

Note

Heyhey hey I saw u mentioning yandere syntax if its ok (if not u can just ignore this ) can u give us yandere syntax headcanons?

YESSS BAHA I was hoping someone would hmu with this, I hinted at it in another head canon scenario

ANYWAYS

The first time he realizes he has feelings for you, Syntax would become very obsessed. Like, standing in front of his mirror wide-eyed and trying to figure out how to handle this. It's not bad at first, just rehearsing encounters with you and memorizing your work schedule, things like that

When you two are friends, you find it weird how he's almost constantly there.

He'll send you texts asking where you are, what you're doing today. Keeping it polite at first, because he's desperate not to ruin this. He'll show off a lot at first, wanting you to realize how smart he is.

Eyes on you. All the time.

Unless you're with friends. Then he'll either stay behind, glaring at every single one of them (definitely not plotting anything suspicious), or hovering right at your side and trying to steal your attention again. Your friends all know he hates them, and repeatedly tell you this, but you're convinced he's a good guy and he tells you so through text.

He'll make you gifts, lots of them, but what you don't know is that hidden within them are secret spying devices. Recording devices.

Of course, he won't intrude on your privacy, he's still a respectful guy, but when you two are apart Syntax will always have those devices turned on. Just in case.

He's also not above sneaking a tracking device on you.

When your relationship begins to get more serious, his attitude will shift to something more possessive. You don't know how but he suddenly has an exact replica of the keys to your apartment so he can come in whenever he pleases.

Will also slip in subtle hints that your friends are not to be trusted. That they are bad people and you should be rid of them. He knows he can't get rid of them outright unless he wants to attract law enforcement, so he will continuously encourage you to cut ties and hang out with him instead. In the case that Syntax feels you're getting a little too close to one of your friends, though, he could always harass them online and hack their devices/make it seem like you hate them and want them gone.

Speaking of, he has already hacked your phone to track you online, not constantly, but he's alerted whenever you talk to your friends.

He knows exactly what you do. Every fucking moment.

You have no clue, no idea that he'll follow you around in the darkness of night/shadows, learning your mannerisms and figuring out exactly what you like.

Syntax doesn't want to kidnap you, first off. He loves you for the real you; he doesn't want to force the relationship or seem suspicious. But he's patient, dangerously so, and he'll wait for the perfect moment to give you that thing you've been wanting forever, the one you had in your wish list for the past three months. He'll surprise you with your favorite food after you text your friends how much you're craving it.

Thankfully, you never figure it out. It's what he wants.

He's a genius manipulator, wrapping you right around his little finger. And if you're good and show that you love him, he might be okay with letting you hang out with your friends alone (what few you have left, of course).

Physical contact is a definite yes for Syntax. He'll hold your hand while your out and about, cuddle while you sleep, and smother you with kisses and affection throughout the day.

He wants to leave you breathless. Craving him. Wanting no one else with him and satisfied with it.

And if a little blood is necessary, so be it.

He's well aware of the consequences, of course. He'd stage it as an accident. As a spider demon, Syntax can use his enhancements to create a scene where your friend was killed in a car accident, drugging both victims if necessary (when in reality, he'd killed them both).

The scientist is also not above drugging you as well.

If you say you're going out with a friend he's suspicious of and won't listen to his advice to skip it, he'll slip something in your drink to make you pass out.

You'll wake up the next day feeling refreshed and warm, but have no idea what happened.

If you ever voice your suspicions that he's keeping you away from your friends (And after all he's done for you?), he'll blackmail you. Smoothly, of course. With a honeyed voice and reassuring words, Syntax can banish any worry you have. He'll wonder if you really thought him that cruel. He'll smile and kiss you, saying that he forgives you, and if you'd like to do something special today.

However, if you continue accusing him, he'll think up of some kind of punishment.

Severing your internet connection for a few days, forcing you to spend time with him. Persuading you to stay in your room to think about it. Giving you the silent treatment until you apologize.

This man is a genius, a silver-tongued killer.

And you don't realize it until it's too late.

#lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk syntax #syntax x reader #yandere #yandere syntax #this was new #never written something like this!#thanks for the ask!#reader has no idea #folks. there be trouble ahead #syntax would never hurt you terribly #not unless he's fed up with your shit #you're his. all his

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bunnions · 26 days

Text

something something katsuki can't keep his hands off you when he's had a little too much to drink (see: denks the worst at-home bartender in the world, believes a shot of vodka really means four).

it starts off innocently enough, gathered in eijiro's living room, when he cracks a foul-mouthed joke and you double over into side with laughter. the heat starts to creep up his neck, but it's easy to blame it on the alcohol. he nudges you back playfully, a grin quirking at the corner of his lips.

two more shots of whatever vile concoction denki mixed up and he's melting into the couch. he's sitting on one end, a little squished with how mina, eijiro, hanta, and denki are piled on top of each other - chatting away, drinking, and desperately trying not to make eye contact with the wasted blond. katsuki's got you perched all pretty in his lap because "there isn't any room left to sit." a convenient excuse.

you're flushed and trying to keep up with mina's story and you're having a great time with your friends but katsuki's hands are looping casually around your waist and pulling you closer to him and he's leaning a little on you for support and you feel a zing speed down your spine as his lips brush against your arm. an accident.

his head's a little fuzzy, but katsuki's practically melting with the alcohol swimming through his veins. and you're so soft it's making everything even fuzzier. before he even finishes that thought he's testing out the plush of your waist, your thighs, pinching a little at the small of your back, and back down to your thighs. you squirm in his hold, and he retaliates with a soft grunt and by biting what he could reach.

the spit on your arm is more uncomfortable than the rather tame bite he gives you. you can see his eyes wobble, flitting to different parts of your face. "hol' s'till," he garbles and your heart leaps into your throat. you can feel four sets of eyes boring into you both, but you can't break away from katsuki's heavy, lidded, lovesick gaze.

#no idea where that came from #the holy spirit took hold of me #maybe i'm just touch starved cries #i think katsuki doesn't drink often so his tolerance is piss shit #and he already struggles to keep his emotions at bay when it comes to you sober. even worse when drunk #and i like to think this is early enough your friendship / crush that the physical barrier has not yet been breached or #has just recently been breached #he wants to touch you so bad! not even sexually (although he does) it's just a matter of a new level of intimacy #that drives him wild and spills over when drunk in a single-minded way #ok goodnight #bun.writes #char.katsuki #suggestive ?#bakugo x reader #bakugo katuski x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugo headcanons #bakugou headcanons

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zephyrchama · 2 months

Text

Paper cuts come when you least expect them. You thought it was pathetic that a mature human such as yourself couldn't even flip a page without slicing their skin open, but old Devildom books were made of the worst paper. Super thin, and sharp like a blade when touched at the wrong angle.

The small distraction sucked you out of the novel you were reading and back into reality. You shut the book and shook your hand, waiting for the pain to run its course. These actions did not go unnoticed.

"Let me see your hand," Satan murmured. He was suddenly looming over your armchair and gently cupping your fingers.

"It's not bad, don't worry." You were more concerned about the book's pages. Satan's collection had a lot of rare and expensive tomes. The novel in your lap looked fine, but how angry would Satan get if a drop of blood spilled onto it? He might not verbally assault you like he would others, but you feared he'd sulk about it for at least a few weeks.

Satan pulled a square cloth from his back pocket. He paused to stare at it. It looked fine. Maybe a little wrinkled, but nothing that should have made him frown. "My handkerchief is dirty."

He roughly shoved it back into the pocket and instead lifted the hem of his shirt, then lightly blotted at your wound with the still-warm fabric.

"Hey! Nooo, that's just going to make your clothes harder to clean later." You went to jerk your arm back, but Satan's gentle hold turned into an iron grip. Those abs weren't just for show. "It's gonna stain! Knock it off. I can lick it or something."

"Oh, good idea." Satan's shirt slid back down as he dropped it and knelt. He rested his elbows on the seat cushion, one on either side of your legs.

"I can do it! I can do it!" You tried to stop him, but he was already seductively dragging his tongue over your fingertip. "Don't even thi-- ahhh, Satan come on!"

There was far more blood rushing through your face than in the tiny little cut. It astounded you how Satan could pull off an embarrassing action so smoothly, without hesitation.

"Are you done yet?" You didn't know if it had been five seconds or five minutes, but you thought it was long enough.

"Mmh." He mercifully stopped, giving your palm a quick peck. "Move over."

The armchair was meant for one, but it was big and cushy. If you scooted to the side it could probably fit two. "Why?"

Satan was already climbing into the space next to you, raising you onto his legs. "I'm gonna make sure it doesn't happen again. I'll read to you."

He leaned back into the chair, pulling you along with him, and curled an arm around your waist to reach the novel. "So, which page were you on?"

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 5 months

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come rest your bones next to me ; satoru gojo, suguru geto

synopsis; satoru shares the first snowfall of the year with the two people he loves most.

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader/suguru geto (poly relationship!!), gn!reader, you're all whipped, reader referred to as spouse, fluff fluff fluff!!, sickeningly domestic, just comfy vibes all around, mostly from satoru’s pov, suguru has a favorite (its you) (but also not really he just likes bullying toru <3), satoru gojo may or may not have unresolved mommy issues

a/n; happy satosugu holidays to those who celebrate <33 geto died today isnt that crazy. dont u think its fucked up how love figuratively and literally killed him. anyway! help urself to two very whipped husbands <33

”holy shit!”

the raspy tilt of satoru’s voice echoes throughout the bedroom, stirring you from your comfortable slumber. a soft groan spills from suguru’s lips, deep and husky, as he pulls you closer into his embrace — smoothing a warm palm down the back of your head. trying to soothe you back to sleep, muttering under his breath.

”satoru, it’s too early for this...”

”it’s snowing!” said man continues, unperturbed. unmistakably giddy. he’s standing by the window, hands pressed flush against the cold glass; entirely entranced by the sight in front of his cerulean eyes.

your eyelids begin to flutter. a tiny tug of your subconscious, a pang of something excited flowing through your veins, an alert to your sleepy brain.

(snowing.)

with groggy movements, you wriggle out of suguru’s grasp — a displeased grumble leaves his throat, almost a whine — allowing you to scramble out of bed. ”really?” you chirp, rubbing the sleep from beneath your eyes. a raspy, meek little voice spilling into the air.

satoru grins, watching you move closer, watching as a tiny gasp pushes past your lips. watching as your droopy eyes widen — brightening, glittering, starlight and snowflakes painted on the interior of your iris. a breathtaking sight, he thinks.

maybe even more breathtaking than the winter wonderland reflected in it; beyond the pure opaque frosting of the window’s glass, out into your backyard, buried beneath a thick layer of snow. soft and fluffy, covering the city, suguru’s long-frozen tulip garden, the bare branches of your apricot tree. every roof in sight. all of it dyed a pure white, glittering in the light of a morning sun yet to fully rise, tiny snowflakes descending down to earth.

it’s beautiful.

satoru loves winter. he always has, he thinks. it comes to him as a memory — blurred at the edges, gleaming even still, the first time he saw those snowflakes up close. someone held him in their arms, he recalls. a warmth long faded.

all he can properly remember is that sight. one that knocked the breath from out his tiny lungs, all glitter and something almost other-worldly, something frightening in its majesty. like it broke through a rift in the stratosphere.

the first snow of the year.

and he’s loved it ever since; the soft crunch of snow beneath his feet, an air heavy with the scent of cinnamon and candied apples, bouts of laughter to be heard from faraway apartments. red and green glimmers of artificial light, sweet frosting on the christmas cake he would always gobble up alone in his room. the cold wind, nipping at his bare fingers — a reminder of his capacity for ache.

there are lots of things to love. lots of memories to cherish. and every single year, he gets the chance to make more.

like this; the light in your eyes, the smile on your face, the excitement in how hurriedly you turn to meet his giddy gaze. a nostalgic kind of joy simmering in the space between you.

and before either of you know it, satoru’s pulling you towards the hallway, intent on dragging you outside to see it all up close. almost tripping over his agumon plush, lying unassumingly on the floor, kicked off the bed once again.

(probably by satoru himself, though he’ll always insist it was suguru’s doing. overcome by his jealousy, surely, unable to stand the sight of his cute husband cuddling up to a plushie instead of him. satoru understands, he does — he feels the same when he sees you hug that 3’0 cat plushie of yours.

and, sure, maybe once or twice he’s been lucid enough to register the subconscious kick of his leg and agumon’s subsequent fall to the floor — but he’ll still blame suguru in the morning. if only to see the way said man rolls his eyes, clicks his tongue, maybe flicks his forehead if he’s really lucky.)

high on the spirit of christmas, spurred on by childlike elation and sleep-deprivation, you stumble towards the door. satoru pulls one of his jackets over your shoulders, delighting in the way your hands don’t fully reach through the sleeves. wrapping you up in a cozy scarf when suguru shouts at you both to dress warmly, barely awake and already tired of your antics.

and the moment you step through the door, satoru is engulfed by it. that mystical, mystical feeling.

a little lonely, a little too satisfying to pass up. a cold breeze that nips at his fingertips, snowflakes that brush against his cheeks and stick to his white lashes. a warm hand in his, as you cling to his side, shuddering — but smiling, as you look up at the sky, putting a hand out just to feel the snowflakes melt against the skin of your palm.

he feels you let go of him, but doesn’t mention it. a little too mesmerized to tug you back. dipping his toes into the bittersweet nostalgia of it all, staring at the flurry of white all around you, the skeletal branches of your apricot tree. suguru’s poor tulips. humming a jolly tune, subconsciously. a little delighted.

— until something cold and wet hits the exposed skin of his neck.

satoru twitches, a chilling shudder trickling down his spine. the snowball just thrown at him begins to melt, droplets sticking to his nape, and he turns to you with a raise of his brow. a devilish grin on his lips, when he hears your muffled laughter, sees the crinkle of your eyes.

(you’re cute, he thinks. but you need to be humbled.)

”oh, so that’s how you wanna play?” he drawls, eyes gleaming with amusement. taking a step forward, reaching down to gather some snow in his palm. a wide grin on his glossy lips. ”fine by me.”

he's fast, but you act quickly, running towards the apricot tree with laughter in your throat. feeling the pitter patter of your heartbeat resound in your ears, as the snowball misses its mark by just a hair — and you waste no time in making your own.

it’s a hard-fought duel. snowfall blocking your vision, nerves beginning to numb, red cheeks and runny noses as you chase each other with giddy breaths. unfortunately for you, satoru’s arms are unfairly long, fingers unfairly nimble, and his stamina never even seems to falter.

so before long, your energy begins to dwindle. chest heaving, hands too cold to form a proper snowball, while your husband seems like he hasn’t even broken a sweat. they just keep on coming, snowball after snowball colliding with the fabric of your jacket, and when one of them hits your collarbone you squeal — falling backwards, right into a fresh pile of snow.

satoru moves forward, a triumphant smirk on his handsome face. you’re out of breath, and your hands are red, and he’s fairly certain you’re gonna catch a cold. suguru’s going to scold him, but right now all he can think of is you. the frown you’re wearing, the little huff that slips from your lips.

”ready to admit defeat, sweetheart?” he practically purrs, standing above you with his hands on his hips. smug. and you grin right back.

”never.”

a hum. something glimmers in his eyes, a devious little glint, and you come to regret your decision when satoru gathers a heap of snow with his overgrown arms; only to drop it all on top of you. too tired to fight back, all you can do is shield your face, silently accepting your fate.

a shiver wracks through your body, and satoru almost feels bad. just a tiny bit. but then you finally relent, murmuring bitterly under your breath. ”fine, fine…” a soft pout forms on your lips. ”you win.”

and satoru smiles. crouching down to meet you at eye level, on his knees in front of you. there’s a teasing mirth in his eyes, when he reaches out to cup the fat of your cheek. ”that’s all i wanted to hear, sweet pea,” he drawls, trying not to giggle when you exaggeratedly roll your eyes.

his voice curls down an octave when he continues, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours. hot breath against your chilled skin. ”now, for my prize…”

his lips meet yours, sweet and chaste — a little cheeky. you scoff into the kiss, but satoru’s smile only grows. honeyed, a little bit adoring. his tongue flits out to lick at your cold bottom lip.

he lingers, for a bit. like he’s trying to savour the way you taste, faded strawberry chapstick sticking to his lips, smudged against your own. and you sigh, softly, melting a little, comforted by the fleeting warmth that blossoms on your face.

when he's finally satisfied, having dragged his prize out to its completion, satoru helps you up. brushing snowflakes off your jacket, cradling your ice-cold hands in his. they’re not faring much better, but a worried tug of his heartstrings compels him to warm you up. bringing them to his lips, hot breath fanning over your skin, tender little kisses against the knots of your knuckles.

you can’t help but blush, and a raspy chuckle flows from out his lips.

hazy morning sunshine licks at the branches of the apricot tree behind you, illuminating the contours of your face, the shine of his eyes. a blue smudge on a canvas painted white and gray. the air smells of pine cones and something smokey, crisp. it courses through his burning lungs when he inhales, exhales, a breath of vapour that scatters up into the sky.

satoru loves winter. always has. but now, he’s certain he loves it even more.

because now, he has two people to share it with. two people to drag out into the snow, two people whose hands he can tenderly warm up, two people who’ll laugh and sigh at his antics and still indulge him. two people to pelt with snowballs.

what more could a man want?

”hey, idiots!”

the voice that echoes throughout the air is exasperated, a little teasing. yet fond. suguru’s got his hair tied into a messy half done bun, black turtleneck sweater enunciating his broad chest and the curve of his waist. there’s a fatigue in his eyes, the creases of his face, but a lazy smile is playing at his lips.

”i’m making breakfast,” he shouts, voice deep and smokey and soft even still. ”come in and warm up before you catch a cold.”

”is that any way to speak to your husband and spouse?” satoru chimes back, a melodic lilt to his sugarsweet voice. something satisfied. pleased.

suguru shoots him an unimpressed look, but his eyes soften. melting a little, at the words that spill from satoru’s lips, as if they were always meant to be there.

(husband. spouse. suguru wills himself not to smile.)

with matching grins on your faces, the two of you stumble back towards the door. snow crunching beneath your feet, a happy noise pushing past your lips when you collide with the warmth of your husband’s chest.

”look, suguru. isn’t it pretty?” you chirp, smiling brightly. an expression he mirrors — brushing some snow from the top of your head, warm palms caressing your cold skin, setting a mental reminder to scold satoru later. sparing a brief glance at the snowy veil over reality.

then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”

satoru joins you both by the door, stretching out his lanky limbs. tousled hair, wet strands sticking to his skin, reddened cheeks and a signature pout. ”suguru, my hands are cold,” he whines. ”warm ’em up for me?”

a click of his tongue. ”should’ve put some gloves on, satoru.”

a hum buzzes in your throat, and you put your hands out. itchy, a little dry. a sad frown tugs at your lips when you speak. ”my hands are also cold.”

and, like clockwork, suguru’s eyes soften. a coo tiptoeing on his tongue, engulfing your hands in his larger ones. ”aw, c’mere, my love…” his breath fans over your frozen fingertips. ”let’s get you warmed up, hm?”

satoru gasps, a hand on his chest, and you stifle a giggle. he’s acting, you both know, being a little drama queen. he knows you’re just exaggerating suguru’s double standard as a bit, that your husband would probably set himself on fire to warm either of you up.

despite that, his voice comes out thoroughly offended. ”oh, i see how it is,” he huffs, walking past the both of you. pouting deeply. ”you hate me. you hate me, and you want me to die. i understand.”

”satoru,” you coo. he hmphs, but stills, waiting for you to wrap your arms around him. and you do — a little too eager to appease your giant baby of a husband.

”we’re just joking around,” you assure him, holding back a humorous chuckle. squeezing his waist with palpable fondness. ”love you sooo much. you know that.”

satoru stays silent. but he cranes his neck, to meet suguru’s gaze, standing just behind him. narrowing his cobalt eyes — a meaningful look.

suguru sighs.

”yes, yes. we love you oh so much.” he takes a step forward, ruffling the white head of hair by the door. a lazy smile on his lips. ”now behave and go change out of your pyjamas. they’re soaked.”

his voice is teasing. exasperated, more than a little condescending. but it’s suguru, so satoru accepts it — following you both into the warmth of your home. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla hangs heavy in the air, a hint of espresso and firewood, lulling him into a sweet state of tranquility. rich with comfort, safety.

he changes out of his wet clothes, pulling a black hoodie over his head before waltzing into the kitchen. and you do the same, emerging from your bedroom in one of suguru’s cozy sweaters, knitted and smelling of bergamot.

when suguru notices, his gaze shifts into something fond. palpable. a look satoru always finds in the scope of those warm eyes, amber and cedar bleeding into something sweet, only ever directed at the two of you. a look said man assumes goes unnoticed. he’s not as slick as he thinks.

the kitchen simmers with hazy sunlight and gentle movements, something sleepy and kind. satoru is a little bit enamored with it; from bowls of cat food by the corner, to camellias by the windowsill, cookie jars and dried lemon slices, the fading scent of baked goods and wishlists stuck to the fridge.

(yours and satoru’s are filled with scribbles, new ideas popping up daily, while suguru’s is almost entirely blank; mostly necessities, one or two things he’d like for himself.

and then, of course, the same thing he writes at the top of his wishlist every year; some peace and quiet.)

suguru shuffles around the kitchen, long strands of black hair cascading down his back, swaying with his movements. he sends you both an affectionate glance when you step in, already in the process of making satoru his cup of hot chocolate — topped with marshmallows and whipped cream, colorful sprinkles in the shape of tiny stars, a touch of cinnamon. satoru licks his lips.

when it's finished, the cup is promptly handed to him, paired with a tender kiss to his forehead. and suguru starts the meticulous brewing of your coffee, steady hands, finely chosen coffee beans, the low purring of the espresso machine. soothing.

that’s when you attach yourself to his back. wrapping your arms around his waist, a sleepy yawn muffled into the fabric of his turtleneck. he places a big palm on your hand, thumb smoothing over your knuckle, and you nuzzle into him silently. suguru smiles.

”still sleepy, baby?” he questions, a coo on the tip of his tongue. his voice is soft, palpably so, buzzing with warmth and safety and something that makes you want to stay cuddled up to him forever.

satoru senses an opportunity to insert himself into the conversation, and forces out a yawn of his own. stretching his limbs like a big cat, blinking drowsily, eyelashes fluttering. hoping it’ll come off as endearing. ”mhm.”

but suguru shoots him an unimpressed look. ”not you,” he tuts, patting your arm, ”this baby. i wasn’t asking you.”

a pout. ”why are you so mean to me?” he whines, shooting you a doe-eyed look. bottom lip jutting out slightly, a feigned glassiness to his eyes. ”sweetie, tell your husband to stop being so mean to me.”

you smile. indulgent, as always. ”don't be so mean to him, suguru. you know he’s sensitive.”

a sigh. deep, tinged with exhaustion. satoru shares an amused look with you — stifling a shared chuckle at suguru’s exasperation.

and suddenly, he feels something warm flutter in his ribcage. a sunkissed butterfly, wings brushing against his ribs, coaxing his lips into curling up. unmistakable fondness, almost too much to bear. the need to reach out and touch you creeps up on him, a hunger he can’t deny, but he holds back; you look comfy like that, curled up against suguru’s spine. so he only inches closer, without a word.

his husband casts him a glance, but satoru stays silent. lips pursed, waiting for something. patient.

and suguru relents. he reaches a hand out, to tuck a stray strand of white hair behind his ear — an excuse to touch him. a silent apology.

(i'm sorry, you big baby.)

satoru grins.

you shift from foot to foot, leaning over to see what suguru is doing, pressing buttons and taking two ceramic cups out from a wall cabinet. your eyes zero in on a particular shelf, narrowing in suspicion, before flitting over to meet your husband’s gaze.

”satoru, did you use up all my peppermint sweeteners again?”

he stiffens. just a tad, before swallowing a gulp — followed by a silly chuckle, sheepish and performative, eager to wiggle his way out of your cold gaze. ”… which sweeteners do you mean, honey?”

”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”

”and don’t play dumb, either.”

a pout crosses his lips. betrayed. ”suguru, who’s side are you even on?”

said man gives him a look. that one look, characteristically suguru, the same one he always sends satoru’s way. one so thoroughly unimpressed it makes him feel like the world’s biggest clown.

and satoru plays along. your dutiful, beloved clown, his posture wilting like a sad flower. suguru exhales through his nose.

”don’t steal their sweeteners.” he smooths a thumb over your knuckle, absentminded, meeting the cold metal of the ring on your finger. smiling a little at the sensation. ”buy your own.”

satoru huffs, drawn out and childish. crossing his arms, leaning against the kitchen counter. ”ah, i see how it is. leaving your sweet husband to buy his own sweeteners?” he clicks his tongue. ”chivalry is dead.”

you bite back a little chuckle — satoru recognizes the cute noise you make when you do — and suguru rolls his eyes. fondly, always. ”remind me next time i go to the store and i’ll consider it.”

”hmph.”

suguru is smiling. it’s small, but genuine, worth a thousand words. and you are, too, the vague crinkle of your eyes giving you away. even as you bury your face in the curve of suguru’s back.

and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again.

that sickeningly sweet sense of deja vu; the sensation of a certain something flourishing deep inside his chest. warming him up, trickling through his frost-bitten veins. that one little itch he never manages to satisfy, that never goes away, something that took root inside his heart years ago — watered by the sweet looks on your faces.

this everyday slice of heaven, right in front of him, that he’s been greedily partaking in ever since he moved in with you. since he married you.

(married.)

sometimes he still can’t believe it.

”it’ll be done in a minute,” suguru hums, and satoru blinks. broken out of his syrupy stupor. ”you two go wait by the kotatsu, okay? must be cold, poor babies.”

and, as always, his voice is a little teasing. a tiny bit condescending, if you really strain your ears, in typical suguru fashion. but it’s laced with a touch of sweetness; one that would be too much for either of you to stomach, if it were to drip out of his lips with nothing to water it down. so satoru accepts it. welcomes it, even.

and you follow his suggestion. making your way towards the living room, satoru trailing behind you, continuously enamored by every little thing he sees. every little piece of the home you’ve built for yourselves.

your living room is cozy. several potted plants seated here and there, a thick quilt to cover the kotatsu, a bowl of satsumas on top of it. a sleepy cat on your couch, golden sunshine ruffling her fur. a santa hat lies beside her, and satoru snags it without much thought. pulling it over his head.

his gaze shifts to the christmas tree over in the corner, eyes filling with a childlike kind of wonder. it’s decorated to completion, weighed down by colourful ornaments and lights, a star at the very top. suguru cut it himself, bringing the biggest and prettiest one he could find back home.

(satoru had gone with him. partially to help carry it back, mostly to get a glimpse of suguru's biceps flexing with the swing of the axe. he’s a simple man.)

and beneath it, presents are already beginning to pile up. carefully wrapped, in bows and silken paper, growing more each day. shattering suguru’s hopes of maybe having a more lowkey christmas this year — but satoru couldn’t be more relieved. this is the only time of year you let him get away with pampering you both to his heart’s content.

a smile blooms on his lips. he plops down on the floor, crossing his legs, right as suguru walks in with a coffee pot in hand. their gazes overlapping.

and something mischievous begins to brew within the blue of his eyes, something that makes suguru narrow his own. satoru pats his thigh, twice, a coo on the tip of his tongue. santa hat sitting pointedly on top of his head, fluffing up his hair.

”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”

”— you’re disgusting.”

the words are playful, but a pout still slips into the curve of satoru’s lips, and he huffs out a displeased little breath. his husband pretends not to hear it, so satoru turns to you — sitting so prettily to his right, already anticipating his next move. puppy dog eyes on full display, he gives you a soft tilt of his head, snowy tufts of hair falling over his eyes.

and you sigh, in what he knows is resignation. his faux pout turning into a satisfied grin.

you curl up in satoru’s lap without much of a fuss, letting him circle his arms around you. an indulgent smile rests on your lips, but he knows you love this; his broad chest against your back, the heat of the kotatsu warming your feet. breathing in the fading scent of your shampoo, he leaves a peck on the sensitive spot right behind your ear, and you try not to shudder.

then satoru smiles. squeezing you, lightly, sweetly, eyes rich with honeyed affection. voice dripping with playful endearment. ”there we go,” he coos. ”what does my angel want for christmas, hm?”

”i want you to stop stealing my peppermint sweeteners,” comes your answer. instantaneous.

silence fills the room. a moment passes. outside your frosted windows, a bird takes flight from the branches of your apricot tree. and satoru clicks his tongue.

”… santa can only do so much, baby.”

two deep scoffs fill the air, heavy and bemused. one from you, one from suguru. satoru only giggles.

”just kidding!” he chirps, planting a kiss on the top of your head. ”don’t you worry. santa’ll give you all the peppermint sweeteners you could ever want.”

you raise a brow, exhaling amusedly. craning your head to meet his gaze. ”and he won’t end up using them all himself?”

”of course not! blasphemy.”

a moment passes.

”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”

a string of protests slips from your lips, and satoru tries not to burst into a fit of giggles. suguru just watches, silently, smiling lightly as he pours hot coffee into two ceramic cups. steam wafting up to the ceiling, a cat jumping down from the couch to curl up in his lap. he places one in front of you, not taking a single sip of his own until he hears you hum blissfully at the taste — pink lips against white ceramic. a bitter taste on his tongue, sweetened by your approval.

then he starts peeling three satsumas, absentmindedly, and satoru swallows down the love-ridden honey choking up the back of his throat. pretending the domesticity of such a simple action doesn’t melt his heart down to the marrow.

he turns his attention towards the window. frost sticking to the glass like spider-woven webs, soon to be melted by the glow of the mellow winter sunrays. flitting in through the curtains, cascading over the room, splattering across the floorboards. framing the hue of your hair, the smile on suguru’s lips.

and a memory comes to him. sudden, hazy, faded at the edges. ghosting his subconscious.

he remembers the frost, the biting wind, the frightening majesty of the snow that fell that day. breaking into his world through a rift in the stratosphere. he remembers the contrasting warmth of the person who held him, who cradled him close; the soft lull of a woman’s voice.

for a moment, satoru thinks he can almost, almost see it before him. hear those gentle words, see her tired smile. why was she always so tired?

(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)

— he can’t recall how it sounded. if it was melodic and soft, or raspy and broken, happy or sad. but he does recall that it made him feel safe. safe enough to find comfort in a sight so other-worldly, so very foreign.

it should’ve been frightening, but it wasn’t. the first snowfall satoru ever saw knocked the breath from out his lungs, stole his heart with cold hands, left him with a suffocating nostalgia. but the memory is precious.

and now, he feels that sense of other-worldliness in this; a kotatsu for three, a warm house, peeled satsumas and promises of a christmas cake soon to be baked. one lovely spouse in his lap, the other gazing at him with that fond look he always assumes goes unnoticed. a cocoon of safety — a ghost he doesn’t need to chase anymore.

warmth. enough warmth to make up for the snow and frost outside your home, all the experiences he missed out on as a child. warmth, warmth, warmth. funny, how that happens to be satoru’s favorite thing about winter.

he looks at the two of you, hoping you won’t pay any mind to his silence. for once, he hopes you’ll stay wrapped up in your awful, awful coffee, so bitter that just looking at it makes his throat feel dry. just so he can get away with admiring you for a little longer. from the contours of suguru’s face, to the skin of your collarbone, to the rings on your fingers. ones he put there himself.

and ah, satoru thinks, there it is again. again and again, as always, forever. that warm, warm feeling flourishing in the depths of his chest.

he hopes it never goes away.

#genuinely fucked up that suguru geto isnt in my kitchen rn </3 #i just think sugu is such a caretaker. makes u breakfast and peels ur satsumas w/o u even asking. bc it makes him happy :’3 hes so Mother #i think he lowkey gets just a little bit uncomfortable when u or gojo try to do the same for him… he likes doting on u #but obv he deserves to be pampered too!! just gotta ease him into it #and i think gojo has a hole in his heart where love should be. bc he wasnt given enough as a child #im not sure what to think when it comes to his parents (since we know literally nothing abt them) but...#the idea of him finding some comfort in the memory of his mom…. maybe not realizing that he misses her…..… i think its very sad. and good.#listened to ricky montgomery while writing this i think it mightve healed me #geto suguru x you #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x reader #geto x reader #geto x reader x gojo #gojo fluff #geto fluff #satosugu x reader #satosugu x you #satosugu x y/n #jjk fluff #jjk x reader #……… thats… a lot of tags.

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disastersareajoy · 3 months

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Pussy Drunk Thomas Hewitt - Drabble

Thomas Hewitt x FEM!Reader

Tags: established relationship, cunnilingus, forced orgasms, talk of bruises, wet and messy, squirting, dacryphilia, overstimulation

Word count: 1.1k

fucking obsessed with the idea of Thomas getting absolutely, down bad, pussy-drunk as soon as he gets a taste

like his virgin-ass being too afraid of hurting you to fuck you at first and getting on his knees for you. he gets a taste, kind of pulls back and licks his lips and you can see his pupils dilate and his eyes fucking glaze over and he just falls face first into your pussy

sloppy, wet, spit slick, hungry oral from that man. his teeth bump into you in all the right ways sometimes. one moment he's whimpering into you and the next he's grumbling and trying to get his tongue deeper and deeper into you to taste more

and it does not matter to him when you beg for him to slow down and how you can't cum anymore. because you keep dripping on his face and tongue and making wonderful noises and you just taste so fucking good, how could he stop??

his arms wrap around your thighs and he holds onto them hard and firm and keeps you pulled close to his face. you can feel that it's gonna bruise and you're going to cherish those bruises for days

he doesn't even notice how hard he's gripping you because he's trying to get all of his senses filled with you. he tastes, smells and feels nothing but you. the only thing his ears can focus on are your moans and whimpers. his hands massage your thighs periodically and when he opens his eyes it's just to look at your face, thrown back in pleasure. the only thing better is when you're looking down at him with tears in your eyes, still moaning for him

Tommy is completely drunk off your taste. he loves the feeling of your pussy on his tongue and he loves the little whining groan you let out when he sucks on your clit

now, when he keeps going and going and your hand in his hair trying to push him away finally falls to your side, he doesn't even realize what he's doing next. it's all out of instinct when his hands readjust so his arms stay wrapped around your thighs but his thumbs are spreading open your folds. that's when he really loses it

because he can get his tongue even deeper like that. he can bury it inside you and find the spot that makes you drip a little more and that makes you moan all broken and needy. once he finds it he abuses the fuck out of it. keeps licking over it, poking at it with his tongue and savoring every drop of you that spills into his mouth

and then. his holy grail. you grab his hair again and moan louder. you're sobbing and begging him to slow down because it feels different this time. he doesn't listen of course. all he knows is you're about to do that thing again where he can feel your pussy flutter and twitch and your thighs squeeze around him and your moans get all whimpery

he keeps going until your hips lift up into him. he stays attached to your pussy and keeps doing what he's doing, knowing he can't stop. needs to keep going to get you to do that thing

suddenly you gasp and go completely quiet. then you moan so loud it's almost a scream. a sobbing sort of thing that's absolutely gorgeous to him. on top of that your hips start wildly shaking along with your legs and your pleasure starts gushing out of you

Tommy moans into your juices and gets closer if that's even possible at that point. he shakes his head so he rubs over your clit side to side while he keeps his tongue abusing that spot inside you. and fuck does he get drenched. he swallows down as much as he can of you and whimpers into it. anything he can't get, drips down his face and drenches his shirt and lap

once you come down you realize he's still going and you can't handle it anymore. you start crying more and weakly kicking your legs out which finally makes Tommy look up. he sees your devastated face and while he thinks the sweat mixed with tears and drool, as well as the tortured pleasure in your eyes is a heavenly sight, he listens to your weak pleas

he finally pulls away and you sigh in relief. Tommy stays away from your pussy (as much as he hates it) and spends his time licking your thighs clean. just a minute away from your pussy makes him whimper and look up at you pleadingly. your legs are still shaking and you shake your head at him

so Tommy whines and starts biting your thighs instead, getting closer and closer to your pussy until he's mouthing right next to it. you're shaking and sweating and still losing a coupe tears when he licks flat over your clit once. then your back arches and you gasp, trying not to make too loud a noise

you know if you moan he's gonna start again and you think he might actually kill you that time. he softly licks over your clit again, wraps his lips around it and you slap a hand over your mouth. but Tommy sees your lack of noise as a sign to keep going and starts sucking on your clit. when his teeth graze over it your hand whips away from your mouth to his hair and you yell out a moan that ends with a broken whine

immediately you know you're in for it. Tommy moans happily and grabs your thighs hard once more. he dives into you again and gets back to his sloppy, needy and enthusiastic pace without hesitation. all you can do is moan, whimper and whine as Tommy makes you see stars over and over again

he's obsessed with making you squirt on his face and listening to your whimpers as he tastes you. he loves the feeling of your heartbeat in your clit, pounding against his tongue

sometimes you can't get him off of your pussy until he's had at least a couple hours of his way with you. he's obsessed with your pussy and a single taste makes him entirely lose his mind. he'd do anything to fall to his knees in front of you

he would spend forever between your thighs if it was up to him

your pussy is his paradise and his salvation. every gush of your juices is a baptism of wonder. you are his goddess and he worships you at every turn

#thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt #TCM #texas chainsaw massacre #texas chainsaw the beginning #thomas hewitt smut #texas chainsaw smut #DisastersAreAJoyDrabbles #this was supposed to be a short idea #and then i just couldn't stop #Tommy has been haunting me lately and this just wouldn't stop playing over in my mind #if literally anyone wants this idea more fleshed out and an actual fic lmk #will absolutely write it if only one person says yes #ill probably write it anyways #HES HAUNTING ME AND I LOVE IT

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meowpupp · 4 months

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owner!price trying to teach puppy!soap restraint but he can’t stop humping puppy!reader all hours of the day :( <3

tw://hybrid smut, denial, noncon(?), electrostimulation, edited by someone with dyslexia

ghost who goes on deployment, forcing him to leave pup!soap with price. he has no other choice, after all, soap is known to be rather.... energetic.

the other hybrid practically sends you into an early heat. every opportunity he gets, johnny pushes you down, rutting his leaky cock against your ass.

he can't help it! johnny's never been exposed to something like you. you're so soft, sweet and submissive. he's never been allowed to bully something so pretty. it's not his fault that your cunt is always drooling for him, or that your back arches so pretty when he bites your neck.

he's relentless, always shoving his big hands under your shirt. if he's not grinding against your ass, he's groping your tits. face buried in your chest as he sucks and bites your nipples. he makes you cry and whine, trying desperately to escape while he holds you still. he won't stop until you cum just from him mouthing your tits.

price doesn't mind at first. he enjoys the way you become even more sensitive. how you whine and cry in his lap after johnny's been particularly rough. but that changes once he slips his fingers in your abused cunt, finding the other mutts cum stuffed deep inside.

it's the following morning that he calls simon, speaking lowly on the phone. not even two hours later, and johnny's sporting a brand new collar.

now each time he touches your pretty body, a jolt of electricity runs up his spine. it's painful. and what's even worse is that it leaves his poor cock flushed and red, pre leaking. all he wants is your pretty cunt wrapped around him, whimpering and whining at your feet.

but price isn't known for being merciful. he doesn't take the collar off, nor does he give the pup any toys. johnny ends up spending days trying to get off. rutting against his hands, the couch, your panties. but nothing helps.

and to make it worse, price fucks you hard each night. not even letting johnny see how your pretty cunt gets all swollen and flushed when price forces his cock in you, or how your tits bounce with each harsh thrust.

poor johnny can only listen as you whine and cry, the wet smacks from price hips slamming against your ass. all while he whimper on the other side of the door, rutting his neglected cock against one of your pillows.

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landosjpg · 11 days

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Hey, I love your writing so much and have had an idea for a one shot for a while. I feel like it would be cute if reader kissed both moles on Lando’s face as a sign of good luck (before a race) or just in general. That’s as specific as I can get because I’m not that ✨creative✨ but if choose to write about it I will EAT. IT. UP. 🧡

it had started one random saturday evening when after a couple of bad race weekends, lando wasn’t exactly feeling in high spirits.

he was always last to get in the car, chatting around with his engineers. but that day, he wasn’t in the mood for all that, so he just stood by your side, arm around your waist as he went over his notes about the track.

his body tensed when he heard will, his engineer, nervously coughing. that was his cue to get ready.

lando sighed, not looking forward the qualifying session ahead of him. the track didn’t exactly suit the mclaren, so he wasn’t expecting much from that weekend again.

you softly smiled at him as he put his earplugs on, the usual grin that adorned his lips was gone; he wasn’t someone who would hide his emotions, but seeing him so apathetic made you worry. usually you would just mouth a “good luck” and flash him your brightest smile before he put his helmet on, but not this time.

you softly tapped his shoulder, making him turn to look at you. your hands cradled his face before you got in your tip toes, his gaze fixed on yours.

“good luck, baby,” you mumbled, closing the distance between the two of you to place a gentle kiss to the beauty marks on each side of your face. god, how you loved them. “you’re gonna do great, i have a feeling.”

that was the first time you saw his smile for the first time since that thursday; the gesture warming your heart. he leaned down to peck your mouth, a whispered “i love you” against your lips.

call it a coincidence, maybe it was pure luck or perhaps he had found enough motivation in your little gesture to put the car in the front row. but after that day, as superstitious as he was, lando always asked for a kiss on each side of his face right before sliding his balaclava on.

it was silly, but it became your little ritual before every session. and when his results weren’t as good, he would justify it as you “not kissing the exact spot”, which made you giggle each and every time.

#drabbles! 𖡎 #this idea was way too cute i hope i could do it justice :(#it has me soft i love his moles so much #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris smut #lando norris blurb #lando norris drabble #lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #f1 x reader #ln4 fanfic #ln4 smut #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 #ln4 fic

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misc-obeyme · 6 months

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You woke up in the middle of the night. You blinked your eyes open, thinking about rearranging yourself so you could drift back to sleep. And then you noticed the tuft of white hair that was peeking out above the edge of your mattress.

You reached out sleepily, burying your fingers in it.

The head shifted as Mammon looked over at you. It was dark in your room, but you could still see his gold-blue eyes. They seemed somehow dull, as though he wasn’t fully aware of himself.

“Mammon?” you whispered into the quiet. “Are you okay? What are you doing down there?”

Mammon was leaning against the side of your bed, arms around his knees. He shook his head a little, causing your fingers to ruffle through his hair. “Don’t worry about it, MC. Go back to sleep.”

You sighed. Like you could actually do that with him here like this. You sat up. “Don’t do that to me. Tell me what’s going on.”

Mammon didn’t move and he didn’t say anything, only sat there on your floor.

You pulled yourself out of the bed and sat in front of him. You leaned your cheek against one of his knees and looked up into his face. “Talk to me. Please.”

Mammon lifted his head and you were shocked to see the pain in his eyes. “Sorry, MC. Didn’t mean to wake ya.”

“Mammon…”

Mammon leaned his head back against the mattress. “Just had a nightmare, that’s all. Couldn’t go back to sleep, so I came here.”

You could tell you weren’t going to get any more out of him than that. But it didn’t matter. That was enough.

You stood up again and grabbed his hands, pulling him to his feet. He froze as you wrapped your arms around him, pressing him into you. For a moment, you could feel him trembling, but then he melted into your embrace. His arms enclosed you, his forehead resting on your shoulder.

You stayed that way for a long time, unwilling to let him go until he stopped shaking in your arms.

Eventually, you felt his body relax, enough that you felt he might be able to sleep again. You extracted yourself from him gently before tugging him into the bed with you.

Mammon was your guardian demon, the one who was always looking out for you, always by your side. But sometimes the guardian needed protection, too. And you would always be there to comfort him, even if he wasn’t sure how to ask for it.

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#this is a scenario I've had in my head for a long long time #I can't remember if Mammon having nightmares is canon or fanon #but the idea got into my head and has been there too long #so here it finally is #because I'm not holding back on Mammon anymore #trying to let go of being nervous about writing for him #obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me shall we date #omswd #omnb #obey me mammon #om mammon #mammon obey me #obey me mammon x reader #om mammon x reader #mammon obey me x reader #misc writes

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ymechi · 7 months

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The hidden creator

I had a plot bunny idea

TW: usual cult stuff, hints of yandere

-gn reader (I tried making it gender-neutral if there is a comment that is off please tell me and I will fix it)

EDIT: 14/11/2023 (changed some wording and other stuff nothing major)

Creator Reader Pov:

-You were just a regular person who one day woke up in Teyvat out of all places

-You realized you still had all your game features and figured it was one of the perks of being isekaied like in other isekai stories

-The whole thing is weird and why you were here, you had no idea

-After the novelty wears off you take some time mourning the loss of your previous life and the people you knew

-After that you try to get a semblance of a normal life like getting a job and trying to be independent

-Despite having a game system you do not want to be an adventurer or learn how to fight it's not for you

-You were previously an average civilian and raised as one it would be hard to become a fighter now

-Instead you gravitated towards creating things, you found an apprentice position in a clockwork shop in Fontaine

-It is fun and you get to tinker with gears and clocks, learning how various machines work and how to create your own items

-overall you are content

-Except weird people occasionally come by the shop you work at including the Iudex of Fontaine which had both you and the shopkeeper sweating the first few times

-Yet the man who insisted you call him by his name Neuvilette is really polite and nice to talk to, soon you warmed up to him

-You could not help the feeling as if you knew him from before, as if you forgot something, you were unusually fond of him.

-Your other "clients" if you could call them that were more intimidating, you had no idea what they were doing in this shop and it scared you

-The Fatui Harbringers occasionally stopped by the shop to buy a trinket or two before leaving, it honestly scared you and the thaught of running away to another nation had crossed your mind once or twice yet you liked your job and your boss and you made some good friends here so it was hard to leave

-Overall you were doing okay

-Except it seems the people here almost in a cult-like manner worship a creator that was never in the game lore

-It is said they resided in Celestia and not many people actually got to see them, not that it mattered for a nobody like you

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Tsaritsa Pov:

-The Tsaritsa knew their so called creator was fake

-She knew she had to get rid of the fake creator as they and Celestia had caused irreparable damage

-Even if she had to stain her hands

-One day it happened something shifted in the earth, air, water- no the whole of Teyvat

-It happened so softly like a small snowflake landing on the ground

-She was hypnotized as if a siren was beckoning her she found you.

-You were their true creator

-You were wearing apprenticeship clothes tinkering with something in your hands and deeply concentrated

-She wondered if that is how you created the universe with careful and steady hands guiding and shaping it to your will.

-She wanted to take you away from this. . . small shop, yet she knew begrudgingly you were safe here, if anyone were to find out a sliver of your existence. . .

-You were safer hidden among mortals

-It left a bitter taste in her mouth

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Neuvilette Pov

-It just happened one day, out of the blue, he could feel it in the shift of the waters

-The way Furina shifted and turned her head unable to sit still confirmed he was not the only one feeling this

-Something happened and he had no idea what exactly happened

-There was this familiar presence this comforting feeling, ancient old instincts waking up

-He followed it without thought until he came upon an in inconspicuous clockwork shop

-He was confused but did not hesitate to step inside

-Then he saw you and everything clicked

-It was you his creator his universe his everything

-You were back

-It seems in this incarnation you were just a human

-That was fine he was oaky with that as long as you were here

-His heart ached seeing you

-He wanted to hug and ask you to never leave again to always stay by his side, for you to comfort him after what had happened and console him

-He should take you way somewhere safer somewhere better not here-

-But weren't you safer hiding among mortals, a part of his mind whispered, no one would suspect you being here even the fake (he cursed them) would not think of finding you here, if he brought you back with him it would create more attention on you

-Attention that would cause you trouble

-He left with defeat on his steps

-It was later he would met the Tsaritsa and a deal was struck

-All for your sake

#genshin impact #sagau #self aware au #self aware genshin #neuvillette #the tsaritsa #fatui harbringers #fatui #cult au #slight yandere #I am too lazy to proofread it right now sorry for any mistakes #this was just some random idea tbh #the creator reader has no idea they are the creator they just wana tinker with clockworks #neuvilette genshin #when will we get more Tsaritsa lore mihoyo plz-#would you guys think that Pantalone would buy out the whole stock whenever it is his turn to visit?

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erwinsvow · 2 months

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uuuh love the kook!best friend idea??? the trio would be so overprotective of her??? at keggers she would just make small talk with some pogues and they'll be 🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️🧍‍♂️like right next to her!

- 🔮

rafe is getting weirdly possessive over you, you think for a moment, standing near the keg and waiting patiently for your turn to get a drink. you don't think he's ever been so.... territorial. or maybe he has been, and you've just been ignoring it, thinking that he's been a really good, really close friend—looking out for you the way he does.

you can feel eyes burning holes into the back of your head, three sets of eyes in particular. your friends are funny—charmingly stupid, annoying arrogant, and a whole host of other things, but they've always been funny. it's why you guys get along so well, you return their jokes and comments at the same pace, more often than not even cracking jokes that make rafe break his stoic facade.

but he has been, you reflect, stepping up to whichever pogue is pouring the beer today—breaking his facade. you thought you were going a little crazy, thinking that he's actually being nicer to you, until kelce and top comment on it too. even today, he picked you up from your place first, letting you crawl into the front seat even though the other boys complain about being smushed in the back endlessly. he complimented your dress, even asked if it was new, which it was. he even got you your first drink without you asking for it, the strawberry seltzer that you're sure the pogues hosting didn't have lying around.

you feel surprisingly giddy about it—after all, you're still a girl, still their newer friend. like any other girl, you worry your new friends won't like you or that there's some ulterior motive going on. rafe's being a little weird, but he's always thinking about something that he doesn't talk about until days later. you think it'll pass like it always does.

"ah, ah," the blond pogue boy says—the cute one some of your girl friends buy weed from occasionally, when rafe can't deliver. "what's the magic word?"

you giggle at his antics, your worry about rafe floating away. you keep chatting with him, reaching in for the red cup twice, that he pulls up and over his head—impossible for you to grasp.

fifteen feet away, rafe watches jj tease you with the beer cup, jaw clenching while top and kelce see what he's staring at.

"see, boys. now that is not okay." he gestures to you with the cup in his own hand, watching your tiny dress ride up as you jump to get your beer from jj. "that pogue is disrespectin' our girl."

"rafe, i think it's just a joke-" top interjects, but he gets interrupted himself.

"nah, nah, man. these pogues. they think it's funny. i'll show him funny. c'mon." rafe stalks over, and the two boys follow. you don't notice but jj does, lowering the cup and staring at something—or someone—behind you.

"havin' fun, huh?" rafe questions, and you spin around. the jerk scared you—kelce and top surrounding you like bodyguards.

"guys, what are you-"

"i think she's all set, pogue. you can fuck off now."

"don't you have some store to rob?"

"guys, c'mon, it's a beer-"

"it's alright, princess, i see these three musketeers have an issue, so i'll just catch you around, hm?"

jj walks away, leaving the beer he poured for you on the log. you smile apologetically at him, fist clenching in anger at your stupid, stupid friends.

"you idiots. what the hell was that? i can't even talk to someone now-"

"what the hell's that mean, i'll catch you around?" rafe says, cutting you off. "you talkin' to that pogue?"

you pick up the beer and splash it over rafe's head.

"no, you asshole. it's a figure of speech and we live on the same island. jesus christ."

#lowkey shes so funny #shes not taking rafes shit n also has no idea hes in luv w her #THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE!#im sure no one cares but this plot<3333 im dead #📮 asks #hi angel missed u #🔮 anon #rafe cameron #kook trio reader

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alwaysshallow · 9 months

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someone mentioned here that would like to see more of higher ranked reader x ghost so......

i feel like johnny would try to set you up. like, play a little bit of matchmaker y'know?? and be a little brat about it considering simon is a bit stern about the whole thing.

he's like "bruh i don't like her" and the second johnny starts flirting with you, he's just deadly staring at him bc it doesn't sit right with him. watching you giggle at his jokes and your smile when you tell him you like a bit older men so his flirting won't work even if it's good.

simon is older. if he had a tail, it would wiggle when he heard that, spying around. probably he would be like hmmmm and then he'd bring you tea the next morning, acting like it's casual, but everyone knows he has a ritual with tea, he makes it for special people.

you're special. he even offers you to train with him, so he could teach you some things and you will teach him. he teaches you boxing - you punch his face a bit too hard and his nose bleeds a bit, but that apparently arouses him and his pupils dilate when you're apologizing. out of his lips almost slips that you could do this again.

ANOTHER THOUGHTS ABOUT THEM OOF

and something longer w plottwist

another!!!

#it's a little au at this point #i don't regret a thing bruh #if anyone has any idea im ur guest #call of duty #cod x reader #simon riley #simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #ghost cod #simon ghost riley #simon ghost x reader #simon ghost x you #ghost call of duty #call of duty x you #call of duty x y/n #exiles.simon

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togament · 6 days

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togame hates his dimples.

he hates how they bring attention to his face, to him, whenever he laughs or smiles. he’s pretty shy so having people point at him and bring attention to whatever he’s doing makes him want to dart. if he doesn’t want to be perceived, he doesn’t want to be perceived, damn it. best he could do is a lazy smile that barely reaches his eyes. more than that, well… you gotta throw hands with him first.

you however, absolutely LOVE them. sometimes, you glance at him whenever choji does something silly and a hint of his dimples show through. he always manages to catch you staring though, a half assed smirk ghosts his features just to hide it all behind a hand. he’s thankful he could hide behind his sunglasses — he’s blushing again.

you’ll get him next time.

oh but the first time he’s ever let his guard down and actually smiled was when he first kissed you. he’s waited for you for so long — now that he has you, he’s letting his guard down. first thing you saw when you pulled away was him smiling brightly, eyes soft and blissed out. god if you could see the look on your face. togame was absolutely breathless.

leaning closer, you pressed two kisses on each of his blushing cheeks.

but instead of covering them up like he usually does, he only smiled brighter.

of course he pulled you in for more kisses. smiling into it this time. he knows you are too.

he knew he’s yours for eternity right then and there.

togame hates his dimples.

but you’re starting to make him learn to hate them a little less.

౨ৎ ˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

a/n: hhhgrgrkk dimpled togame agenda is a go. also ofc this isn’t proof read. hhhehe mwah ty for reading bb