𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐓!

This is fucking delicious!!!!!!

Cowboys

Ellie x reader (for now)

summary: A stranger comes to your door- it turns out it's not one of your usual encounters cw: guns, cowboy lingo, fem! reader, cowboy crossdresser Ellie, eventual smut, blood, injuries, your average confusing lesbianism, eventual smut, no use of y/n wc: 3.6k

for those who prefer ao3 <3 gotchu minors DNI (I will steal all you pillowcases)

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

Nothing could beat the beauty of the sunset in the desert. Purples, blues, oranges, and yellows swirled together to paint a new masterpiece every night. And every night you would sit on your small, wooden porch with a cup of tea and watch as the sun slowly sinks into the horizon. Tonight was no exception. 

The sky becomes darker and darker until the moon and the stars come out, bathing the desert in a silver light. You struggle with the stubborn, old front door for a moment before you step into your little ranch house.

A chill runs through you as the temperature outside rapidly declines. You kneel in front of the fireplace and use the little kindling you have for a fire. It was enough to keep you warm for a few hours while you read yourself to sleep. Sometimes you felt lucky that it was a small enough house that the small fire would warm up the whole place. Your bed was just a few paces away from the mantle. 

You stand up and dust off your hands before starting to undress for bed. As you begin to unbutton your bodice a knock sounds from the front door. 

You scramble for your rifle by your bedside and check to make sure it’s loaded. You peek through one of your front windows to catch a glimpse of the mysterious stranger. At this hour and on the edge of town, your visitors weren’t usually friendly. 

It seems a cowboy has paid you a visit this evening. Haven’t seen one of those in a damn long time. A gun is proudly holstered on his hip next to a lasso, and his black large-brimmed hat keeps his face dark enough that you can’t quite make it out. 

He knocks again, louder. You creep up to the front door and slowly open it. Before he can process who opened the door you aim your rifle right at his chest. 

“Hands up.” You demand, your voice is surprisingly steady. 

“Woah there, I just stopped to ask for some directions.” A deep, yet feminine voice replies. It sounds like she was all too sure you weren’t going to be using that weapon on her, she didn’t even bother to move. You cock the gun, trying like hell to keep your expression blank, unphased while your entire body fills with adrenaline. She takes a step back and puts her hands up. Her hat still covers her face in shadow, it’s like confronting a ghost. 

“You should have stopped somewhere else.” You take a step towards her, closing the door behind you while keeping your vision trained on the woman. 

“You’re much different than the other women I’ve run into out here.” She looks up slightly, the moonlight illuminating pink, slightly chapped lips forming a smug smirk. “Where’s your husband, miss?”

“I swear if you don’t get back on your goddamn horse I’ll put a hole right through your chest.” she steps towards you, the muzzle of the gun pokes right under her collarbone. 

She finally looks at you, silver light exposes a sharp, feminine face dotted with freckles darkened by days in the sun. The sight of her face catches you off guard for just enough time, allowing her to grab the barrel of the rifle and pull it right out of your hands. She drops the gun and it clatters loudly to the ground, echoing through the empty desert landscape. She grabs your wrists before you can start fighting back and pins them above your head against the door with one hand. 

“There,” she grunts as you struggle against her grip, she’s surprisingly strong, “now we can have a conversation.” 

“Go to Hell.” You say, seething with rage and frustration because she was able to overpower you so easily. She shakes her head and laughs for a moment, saying something under her breath like all this trouble. 

You were just about to spit in her face when she said, “Where’s the nearest hotel darlin’?” Your eyes widen at the innocent question, slightly embarrassed. This was a first, she really just needed directions. She uses your stunned silence to talk some more, “I’ve been savin’ up so I could have a bed for the night. And I could really really use a bed tonight, miss.” You stop struggling against her grip and she lets go. She still has that stupid smirk on her face. “So if you could point me in the right direction it would be much appreciated.” 

“Head southwest, you’ll hit a trail that will lead you right into town.” You dust off your dress and straighten it out. 

“Much appreciated, darlin’.” She tips her hat and walks off toward her horse. You watch in shock as she mounts her horse and before riding away she says just loud enough, “I’ll be seein’ you.” And with a nod, she was off. 

You slowly bend down to pick up the Winchester, cradling it against your chest as you watch the stranger disappear into the night. As you head inside you wonder if you ever will see that strange woman again, and fall asleep debating whether or not you would want to.

**  **

The next morning you head to the school house. The steady feeling and sound of your horse trotting along the dirt path always forced your mind to wander elsewhere. Right now you couldn’t stop thinking about the woman from last night. The schoolhouse was right in the middle of town, would you see her again? Would she even recognize you? If she did, would she even try to talk to you?

The interaction was a bit embarrassing for you, but to be fair you had your fair share of vile men looking for trouble and hostile groups of Apache knocking on your front door. Your father had taught you how to use his Winchester rifle, the very same rifle you use now, and you mentally thanked him for it every night. You had only used it to kill one man, he wouldn’t take no for an answer and you gave him plenty of warnings. He didn’t believe your threats so now he was buried about 500 feet from the house in an unmarked grave, you were sure no one would miss a man like that. Most of the time the Apache would just come to ask questions about men passing through the area, they never tried to attack you, thankfully, but they would always come at the most ungodly hours and were quite impatient. 

Last night was a first, you had never had a cowboy knock at your door, and then she ended up being a woman. The idea of her was so intriguing and you couldn’t figure out why. For some reason, she shook you more than anyone else had since you lived out here. And you’d seen quite a lot.  

Your thoughts are interrupted as you reach town, the sound of rickety carriages, hooves against the packed dirt road, and the chatter of men in front of the Sheriff’s Office make it hard to focus. 

“Hello there, sunshine!” you hear a male voice call out. You turn towards the voice to see Jesse making his way past you on horseback, lugging today's newspapers to the apothecary. He made the trip from Sante Fe every morning. He was nice enough, you liked talking to him, but not as much as you felt like you should. The ladies at the apothecary, Dina, and Maria, would always encourage you to talk to him. They desperately wanted you to move on from your husband. He was long gone and you knew that, you were even thankful for it, which is why you were nervous to start again. You didn’t want to have to go through anything like that again. 

You wave back and smile, “Hi there, Jesse.” You decide to be polite, “Hear anything good today?” He tightens the reins of his horse and stops right next to you. 

“They struck gold in Elizabethtown, and there’s gonna be a shortage of tobacco ‘round these parts within the week because of a dust storm over in Tennessee.”

“Well, I’m sure they’ll have a panic on their hands pretty soon then. I don’t know a man here who can live without their cigars.” You smile and Jesse laughs politely at your attempt at a joke. 

“Alright, don’t want the kids to show up before I do, I'd best be headin’ to the school.” You yearned to leave this awkward conversation through any means possible. Today was not the day for small talk. 

“Ok, I’ll see you tomorrow then, miss.” Your head snaps towards Jesse. You’re suddenly transported to last night and listening to the way the cowboy’s words would drip from her lips, smooth as honey “Miss”. Calm and sure even with a gun pointed right to her heart. 

You quickly snap out of it and nod politely at Jesse as you begin to part ways. You head to the schoolhouse in a hurry, the kids gave you hell if you were late. 

** **

You’re beginning to lock up the schoolhouse when you hear footsteps approaching. “Well hello there, miss.” You recognize the voice all too quickly, you don’t even need to turn around. “Was really hopin’ I’d find you here.” 

As you fish into your pocket for the key you respond, “And how exactly did you find me here?” you turn around and begin to walk past her toward your horse. She follows you. From a brief glance at her, you can see she wears a bandana to cover her face, you could only see her eyes. “You don’t even know my name.”

“I just asked those nice ladies at the apothecary if they knew the women who lived just outside of town, they were more than happy a “nice gentleman” took interest in you. They told me just about everything they knew, your name, some snippets of gossip. I’m sure if I stayed they would’ve told me your life story” You finally turn to face her, your expression unamused. She took her hat off at some point when she was talking to you, her eyes are green, radiant in the unrelenting desert sunlight. You were almost jealous. She wore a dark blue button-down that sat surprisingly flat against her chest and suspenders. She could pass for a man if she wanted to. “So, I take it you don’t have a husband then?” 

“What’s it to you?” you cross your arms, defensively.

“I was just curious, I asked last night, but you weren’t exactly in a talking mood.” You swear you can make out her smirk under the bandana. 

“No, I haven’t had a husband for quite a while. Is that what you came all the way here to ask me?” She lowers her bandana and steps towards you, backing you into your horse. 

“No, I came to ask a favor.” She hesitates for a moment, “No one here can know that I’m, um, well you know..”

“A woman?” pretty easy to piece together after seeing the bandana. 

“Yea,” She backs away from you a little. Seems like someone is embarrassed to ask a favor. “It’s just easier for me to get things this way and it’s lookin’ like I’ll be staying later than I planned so..” 

“Alright, I won’t say anything.” She opens her mouth to begin to thank you, but you weren’t about to let an opportunity like this pass you by. “But, you owe me a favor then.”

Her excited expression disappeared as quickly as it came, if you weren’t looking you could have missed it, “Um, alright, what do ya need?” 

“You know your little visit last night?” You had been cooking this proposition up all day, hoping she would run into you again. 

“Yes.”

“Well, that happens to me about every other day. I don’t want a husband, but I do need a guard dog of some kind.” You didn’t want a man in your home, but you did want the protection of one, this was the perfect opportunity, almost too perfect. 

“A guard dog?” She seems mildly offended by you comparing her to a dog.

“I’m tired of not being able to sleep because of surprise visitors. And I’ll pay you in two square meals a day, tea, and my homemade moonshine.” She does not look amused. “And I won’t tell anyone you’re a lady.”

“I don’t know-”

“I know you’re almost out of money, I’m sure Tommy is bleeding you dry as an outside visitor. I won’t charge you anything.” Something in her loosens, you can see it.

“So do I sleep on your floor?”

“Or outside if you’d like, makes no difference to me. There’s a fire pit out there for ya” You turn around and mount your horse, eager to get home. “We got a deal?” You reach your hand down towards her. She hesitates before shaking it. 

“I’m Ellie by the way.” You nod

“Alright Ellie, I’ll see you at my house then. I trust you’re familiar with the address” She just nods, slightly shocked. You smile and then head off, the comforting sound of hoofbeats clearing the thoughts in your head. On the way home you tend to just listen to the sounds of the desert. After a day of loud, squealing children it was healing. You’re sure you’d go crazy if you lived in town. 

** **

You had just finished making your evening tea when you heard a knock on your door. For the first time in a long time, you don’t go into fight or flight mode. You open the door with a smile, part of you is surprised she even showed up. Your proposition was a little ridiculous, but that truly shows how desperate you are. 

“Hello there stranger.” You are really pushing it with this attitude, you can tell, but something in you likes it when she gets annoyed. 

“Hi.” She takes off her hat and lowers her bandana, something you’ve observed as a habit of hers, one of respect possibly. “So am I sleepin’ with the rattlesnakes or on your floor?” 

“You get bit by a rattlesnake come to me and I’ll suck the venom out myself. Until then you best set up camp before dark darlin’.” You smile at her sweetly. 

“Figured as much.” She smirks and walks away to set up camp.

“Dinner’ll be ready in 20 minutes. I hope ya like stew.” You call out to her. “Oh, and there’s a spring out back if you need any water!” 

** **

The stew finally thickens up to the way you like it, you pour it into two bowls and quickly slurp up your serving. Didn’t taste amazing, but it was food. 

You open your front door to bring Ellie her food and see that she’s already started a fire, she’s sipping from a silver flask just staring at the flames. 

You approach and wordlessly hand her a bowl of stew and a spoon. She looks up at you “You gonna eat?” 

“No, I- uh already ate.” More like inhaled but she didn’t need to know that. You point at her flask. “What’s in there?” 

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t know what’s in here?” She raises her eyebrows.

“I know it’s liquor, Ellie, I’m just askin’ what kind.” Her confused expression drops.

“Whiskey.” She looks at the flask in her hand, then at you. “Want some?” She clearly did not want to offer it to you. But you sit down next to her and reach your hand out for it. 

“Hand it over.” She hands you the flask. The metal was cool to the touch, almost shocking after the desert heat all day. You take a sip and the liquor burns its way down your throat, and your face scrunches a little. You were used to shooting whiskey, but this was particularly terrible, even worse than your moonshine. “Wow, that’s pretty awful.”

Ellie laughs between bites of stew, “You’re stew isn’t the greatest thing I’ve tasted either.”

“Hey!” You lightly punch her shoulder. She giggles even more. “You’re welcome for the food by the way.” You take another swig of whiskey and then hand the flask back to the cowgirl. 

“Thank you,” she takes the flask, “for the meal.” she hands you her empty bowl. “And a place to stay, even if it’s outside.” 

“We’ll see, maybe you’ll earn your way inside.” You take her bowl and turn to head inside. 

“Is that a challenge?” She calls after you. 

“Maybe.” You call back. 

You step inside and immediately undress for bed, the whiskey making your eyes droop closed. You can barely get your buttons undone before you fall into bed, for the first time in a while, not having to worry about dangerous strangers knocking down your door.  

** **

You wake up to a hasty knock coming from the front door. It’s still dark outside. You weren’t supposed to have to deal with this anymore. You grab your rifle and don’t even bother checking who is at the door simply out of annoyance. Would have bit you in the ass later if it was a surprise visitor. You open the door and cock the rifle. To your astonishment, you open the door to Ellie, holding her side. There’s a dark stain forming under her hands, her face is bloody and bruised. And yet she’s got a smug yet pained smile on her face. “This how you’re always gonna greet me?” 

“Jesus Ellie,” you usher her inside quickly. “What happened?” 

“You got some visitors, a group of Apache men.” She sits down in one of your wooden dining room chairs. You rush over to grab the small medical kit you had managed to fashion over the years. “They wanted to see you in particular, when I told them you weren’t accepting visitors they sort of attacked me. It was one versus six” 

“They don’t trust many people.” You undo Ellie’s suspenders and begin unbuttoning her shirt without even thinking. “Most folks round here shoot first and ask questions later, they don’t have any respect or patience for a stubborn cowboy.” You walk over, grab a candle and some matches, and light it so you can see. “Can’t say I blame them. I am sorry though I’d thought they’d see your gun and back off” 

“That is real optimistic of ya.” You remove her right arm from the sleeve of her shirt. She is wearing some sort of binding around her chest- so that’s how she’s managed to pass for a man. 

“Wow, that’s a big word for you.” You smirk at her as you clean your hands with some moonshine. 

“Really? I’m bleedin’ out and you’re making fun of me?” You press gauze to her wound, she hisses through her teeth. 

“Please, you’re not bleeding out. Shouldn’t even need stitches, just some cleaning and dressing.” You look up at her, you’re not quite sure, but even in the dim candlelight, you could swear she was blushing. You wouldn’t dare mention it when she’s already made herself so vulnerable. 

“Now for the hard part.” You take out a small bottle of vinegar. 

“Alright.” Ellie leans back in the chair, ready for the sting of the vinegar. 

“Here.” You take her left hand and place it on your shoulder. “Squeeze if you need to.” She nods and you take that as your cue to begin. You pour the vinegar on the wound and you watch as her abs contract, her hand squeezes your shoulder, pretty hard, but you know she was trying not to hurt you, even in pain. 

You stand up and gently wrap a few layers of gauze around her mid-section, just in case it starts bleeding again during the night. You were so, so close to her, you could feel the heat radiating from her skin. “You always wear that?” 

“Wear what?”

“The-the bandages, round your chest.” She looks down at them like she almost forgot they were there. Suddenly you realize how personal that question must be. “Sorry, I shouldn’t said anything. You don’t have to answer” 

“No, It’s alright. I don’t mind. Yes, I’ve worn this for a while now, easier to get around when you look like a man.” You nod and finish wrapping the gauze around her and pin it in place. You put a bit of vinegar on a piece of gauze and begin cleaning the cuts on her face. “Oh, you don’t need to do that, miss.”

“Please just let me clean off your face. Were you planning on walkin’ around town tomorrow with dried blood on your cheeks?” She opens her mouth to say something but closes it. She’s quiet as you gently clean her face, you can see every freckle, every scar, her eyes shining in the candlelight. It was odd being this close to her. You had never felt comfortable being this physically close to someone. Her warmth almost invited you in, made you want to press your nose to her neck, run your hands across her skin, feeling along all the freckles and scars, memorizing the spot of each one. you wanted to know her in a way you have never wanted to know anybody else.

“Hey,” a gentle voice grounds you back into reality. “I think my face is clean.” She smiles softly. She was right, at some point, you had gotten her face completely clean, you’re not sure how long she let you drag the cloth across her freckled cheeks before she said something. 

“Yeah, sorry.” You back away and put the blood-soaked gauze in the burn pile. “You should sleep in here. Don’t think anyone else will be coming tonight. I’ll go get your bedroll.” Ellie just nods and you go out to grab her things. 

You hurry back and set up her bedroll on the floor right next to your bed. She makes her way to it and sits down on the floor with a thud, careful to not contort her body in a way that could re-open the wound. She collapses onto the wool blankets. When you’re sure she’s settled you place your rifle back next to your bed and fall into your mattress, knowing you’ll be exhausted tomorrow.

lmk what you think! Likes, comments and reblogs always appreciated!

LINKS TO HELP PALESTINE l DAILY CLICK

why have the black women of tumblr come to the conclusion that ghetto black women don’t deserve love or representation?

like what’s wrong with a character liking rap music, or liking to have her nails, lashes and hair done?

it’s like yall don’t realize that you’re being anti-black and elitist asf. like yall complain and complain about how writers on here never “write characters like you” and honestly if you feel that way then write it yourself?

ghetto black women never get good representation in media because of people LIKE YOU. like god forbid someone writes characters like the people in their everyday life or like them because they ALSO thought “i don’t get good representation either” like what the fuck is wrong with yall.

i love every single ghetto, loud, “stereotypical” (which makes no fucking sense) black woman that loves to have long nails, to wear wigs and braids, loves have their lashes done and ones built like megan thee stallion and speak aave.

i love every single shy, quiet, nerdy black woman that loves wearing her natural hair no rocking her natural face and the ones skinny, thick, fat, short, tall, and whatever tf else.

like there is some actual representation you SHOULD be fighting for like more PLUS SIZE reader rep that isn’t the stereotypical “i hate my body” ass shit , more DARK SKIN reader rep that doesn’t have anything to do with the reader hating her skin tone or going through colorism, and some TALL reader rep but bitch you’re pissy because they made the reader like to wear wigs …like bitch are you DUMB???

bashing black woman writers on here because YOU don’t feel represented is fucking stupid. they take times out of THEIR days to write on this app and they DON’T get paid for this! so for the love for all things that are holy, if i hear another one of yall say some this shit imma beat your ass.

This is 💞beautiful💞

MY LIFE BEFORE YOU [ ♡ ]

summary. how jjk men fall in love with single-mom reader.

cw/ tw. fem!reader, fluff, domesticity, brief mentions of pregnancy, mild hurt/ comfort, pining, original child characters, aged-up characters, boss/ employee relationship, mildly suggestive toward the end

featuring. gojo, yuuji, sukuna, megumi, nanami

an. hello, this is an updated repost from my @/satorini blog:3 enjoy! reblogs are appreciated!

✢ GOJO

Being a single mom has its ups and downs, especially when it comes to dating. You can easily recount the times you sat across from a date who looked like they ate something sour after the mention of your daughter, how they paused, spine going stiff—never keen on the type of baggage that comes in small packages.

So it’s only natural to expect the same with Gojo when you tell him on the first date in the back of a coffee shop, wincing internally with a tight grip around your cup. You wait for the awkward laugh, the promise to call you later, even though they never do. 

But then he surprises you.

He smiles—that same one that filled your belly with butterflies the first time you ran into him in the elevator at work—his gaze unexpectedly soft, and he asks, “What’s her name?”

You sip your coffee to distract yourself from that fluttery feeling in your chest. “Ma—um, her name’s Mai.”

Your heartbeat doesn’t slow for hours after that date; you admit you hadn’t expected him to take it in full stride.

Almost two years later, sometimes you still can’t believe it—how he fits so effortlessly in your life, that he’s shown you time and time again that he has no problem treating your daughter like his own.

He calls her princess and treats her like one, too. One day, you walk into the living room to find Mai putting clips in Satoru's hair and unicorn stickers on his face, letting her ramble about her day at daycare (because the afternoon reading circle is apparently very eventful for a bunch of four-year-olds).

On the days he’s off work, you have to keep the fridge stocked with food, or else they’ll eat nothing but sweets all day. And when he does cook, he'll have a chair pushed up to the counter for Mai to see and help—though your kitchen is often left a total mess afterward.

It’s after dinner, Mai tucked into bed, his arms curled around your waist while you scrub a pot, a thumb tracing your abdomen—sweetheart, what if we had another?—and you let yourself think about it. Can’t help it.

This time, you won’t be alone in a delivery room, Satoru’s large hands comfortingly wrapped around yours before holding his newborn for the first time, one with Satoru’s smile and maybe your eyes. Another set of small feet running down the hall for cuddles in the morning… 

You reach down and cup his hand, despite it being covered in sudsy dishwater, though he doesn’t seem to care.

“I think…I think I’d like that.”

✢ YUUJI

He’s always been your best friend; since that time you fell off the swingset when you were six and after you found out you were pregnant and never heard anything back from the father. 

It's possibly the best and worst thing that could have happened to you. 

The best because he’s there for you until the twins come screaming into the world; it’s no surprise they’re just as drawn to his sunny personality as everyone else. Yuuji becomes a shadow at your side in the weeks after, becoming somewhat of a quasi-parent even though you never asked him to, which is why it’s the worst.

Those easy smiles are slowly replaced by the feeling of your heart trembling in your chest whenever you catch him hastily tripping up the stairs to the nursery to wake the twins from their nap. Or when he takes the three of you to the park for a picnic and spends the entire time staring at one of the sleeping little boys on your chest as if they’re doing cartwheels.

You try not to think about it too much unless you want to risk losing Yuuji, to crumble whatever solid foundation your friendship sits on. Plus, why would he want to settle with a single mom anyway?

You’ve seen the girls he’s dated, and none of them walk out of the house wearing a sweater covered in baby food stains, pretty, willowy girls who put a little more effort into their appearance than you have in months. 

And the sadder, more obvious answer is that there’s no way he feels the same about you—sweet, whole-hearted Yuuji who’s friendly to strangers and always willing to help wherever he’s needed. 

You’re no different.

There’s some truth to that, which rapidly disintegrates as the months go on. You can no longer ignore how Yuuji lights up whenever someone accidentally mistakes him for the twin’s father or mentions how cute your family is.

It’s easy to imagine until you’re so wrapped up in thoughts that make you bite back a smile—of coming home to Yuuji napping with the twins on the couch, quiet evenings snuggled up under soft blankets on the couch, kissing him when he leaves for work in the morning—that you nearly miss what he says to the sweet old man who’s been giving Yuuji unsolicited parenting advice, “Maybe she’ll actually say yes when I ask her to marry me someday.”

He’s not looking at you when he says it, but you see how his smile reaches his eyes (soft as if he’s inserted himself into the same future you thought of), and for a moment, you allow yourself to hope. 

✢ SUKUNA

He’s never been the type to want kids of his own, and yet he couldn’t turn a blind eye when you call him nearly two months since that night at his brother’s birthday party—hazily remembering you telling him you’re one of Yuuj’s friends before he took you back to his place—to tell him you’re pregnant.

“You don’t have to be there. I just thought you should know,” you say wetly.

“Jesus—” he sighs, scrubbing a hand down his face. He doesn’t think the employee breakroom at the gym is the right place to have this conversation. “Listen, don’t cry. I’ll be there, alright? Whatever you need.”

Sukuna at least thought he’d actually be with the person he has a kid with. Over the next four years, that couldn’t be further from the truth.

There’s a lot that’s undesirable about the situation, like the fact that every time he walks out of his room, he always ends up stepping on Legos because you insist on buying Hana more and leave them at his place, or that he can't eat anything these days without a small hand reaching out for his food.

But the one thing that really makes his blood curdle is whenever he has Hana for the weekend, and she rambles through a mouthful of mac n’ cheese about how you and Yuuji took her to the park, with more stories about Yuuji this and Yuuji that.

He should be grateful his brother is such a doting uncle, yet he grinds his teeth the longer his daughter prattles on.

Out of everything, this is the one thing he chooses to find an issue with: high-school sweetheart Yuuji, pictures of him found in frames all over your house; helpful and supportive, perfectly polite, always-nice-to-be-around-Yuuji who everyone gravitated towards, even you, it seems.  

He tells himself it’ll go away eventually, that strange pit of jealousy festering in his chest like an open wound. It doesn’t.

Sukuna spends so much time thinking about it that he’s thoroughly annoyed by the time you stop by to pick up Hana for the week. 

“Did you guys have a nice weekend? You seem…” Of course, you’d pick up on his shitty mood. “Upset.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbles, hoping you’ll leave it alone.

You don’t.

“Listen, if this is about Friday, I told you Yuuji’s okay dropping her off.”

“I bet he is,” Sukuna sneers, shoving the last of Hana’s Legos into her bag.

You huff. “What is your problem?”

“Nothing, but I have a feeling you’ll run back to Yuuji and tell him about it anyway.”

“Are you seriously jealous of your brother?”

He scoffs but doesn’t answer.

“If you want to be with me so badly, just say it.” You put your hands on your hips. “Go on, say it.”

Obviously, you’re joking (at least, maybe a little, the unsure smile on your face wavering), but he’s not.

In the end, he breaks first. Wrapping his hand around the back of your neck, he presses his mouth to yours, fingers flexing at your little gasp. When he breaks the kiss, panting a little, he says, “I want to be with you, and I want to raise my fucking kid with you. Happy?”

There’s a scandalized gasp, and he looks down to find Hana standing there with her sandals on the wrong feet, blinking up at him with round eyes. 

“Daddy, that’s a bad word.”

“Listen here, brat—” you pinch his side. “Ow.”

✢ MEGUMI

He admits he doesn’t know what he’s doing, not when it comes to being a parent. The best-dad-of-the-year didn’t exactly exist in his household growing up, considering his dad was never really around.

There’s a learning curve when it comes to four-year-olds and what they’re interested in; he discovers this the hard way when he bores your son to sleep by talking about mundane adult topics. He thinks you’re only trying to make him feel better by saying Rin never takes naps for anyone.

It festers, that feeling of inadequacy, between daycare pick-ups and co-parenting with Rin’s father—who happens to be a pediatrician, no less, while Megumi’s been working the same dead-end desk job for almost a decade—until he has his first win on a trip to the beach.

He teaches Rin how to make sand castles the way he and Tsumiki used to when they were kids. That’s apparently enough to win your son over, and he doesn’t know how to react the first time Rin calls him dad—second dad, he tells his teacher at school, but still dad. He thinks he might’ve looked at you in shock while soft giggles escaped your lips.

There’s still that underlying need to prove himself: to you, to Rin. That he can get along with your ex-husband and figure out the ins and outs of being a parent now that another set of feet will be waking him up in the middle of the night.

He would never admit it out loud, but Megumi can’t help the way his heart beats a tattoo into his ribcage at the glimpse of the engagement ring adorning your left hand as you drink your coffee—proof that you are willing to be his for as long as you’ll have him, and that…does something to him. It has him thinking about you holding a bouquet, of you smoothing that same hand over a steadily growing belly.

Every day, it amazes him how something so small—something that used to have no real purpose at the back of his sock drawer until you let him slip it onto your finger—can hold his whole future in its shining stones and delicate silver band.

Sometimes, Megumi can’t wrap his head around the fact that you still want him even though he’s still figuring things out, and his words don’t come out sappy like in those romance novels you enjoy so much—that he isn’t the best with feelings, yet he tries so hard to be a little more vulnerable for you.

It took him so many years to realize that this is what being in love feels like, and he’d be an idiot if he ever let you go.

“Megumi,” you say softly, noticing that he’d stopped making breakfast. “Are you okay?”

He brings his gaze up from your hand to meet your wide doe eyes. So pretty, he thinks, and all his. His mouth quirks into a not-quite smile, helping Rin pour more batter onto the skillet. “Yeah. Better than okay.”

✢ NANAMI

The first time he meets you, one of the associates for his company introduces you as his wife—a fresh-eyed college student who’s more concerned about staring at other women at the business function than the beautiful one on his arm—and he kindly shakes your hand, watching you give such devoted attention to a man undeserving of it.

What would it be like to be loved like that?

A few years trickle by before he sees you again, except this time, there’s no ring on your finger, and you’re in the middle of walking into his office for an interview with a little boy balanced on your hip.

“Sorry, my babysitter called in sick, and I couldn’t find a replacement in time—Oh.” It’s in that small moment between closing the door and hauling a diaper bag up your shoulder that you recognize him, too. “I didn’t realize you were the one doing the interview.”

He arches a brow. “No?”

“Sorry…again. I didn’t mean it like that, and I’m usually not this unprepared.” You set the toddler down on the floor and straighten out your skirt, giving him a shy, pretty smile.

Nanami swallows and gestures to the seat in front of his desk. “He can stay.”

While he asks you questions, your son—Haru, he learns—keeps busy with a coloring book you give him, and before you leave after the interview, he silently proffers Nanami a sheet of paper filled with yellow and green crayon squiggles. 

He tacks it to the corkboard wall next to his desk.

When you start working as his office assistant, he never brings up the topic of your ex-husband. It’s obvious the man doesn’t care about his family, anyway—not when you show up most days looking worn out. 

It starts to burn in his chest, the way your eyes drop sometimes, the little reassuring nod he’ll catch you giving yourself after what must’ve been a rough morning. 

Nanami knows he’s in way over his head when he asks you out for coffee; how surprised he is you say yes, which leads to more dates until he slowly finds that smile of warm devotion aimed in his direction.

Eventually, your things fill the empty spaces in his home, and the spare room in his house becomes a nursery. His once quiet mornings of reading the paper are now pleasantly disrupted by the smell of pancakes and Haru trying to climb into his lap to read with him. 

The first time Haru asks for Nanami after a nightmare—rubbing his wet eyes while standing near Nanami's side of the bed in his shark pajamas, sans one sock, until Nanami scoops him up and deposits him between you—he winces (because he doesn’t want it to seem like he’s taking something away from you) before he notices the soft smile curling your mouth. 

He can’t pretend to fully understand why you ever agreed to that first date when the odds weren’t terribly in his favor, but he has a long time to learn, and right now, he’s focused on other things.

"Quiet, dove,” he murmurs, kissing your temple. “You're going to wake the baby..." 

WOULD LICK HER BACK UNTIL MY TONGUE DISINTEGRATES

༉‧₊˚✧ — migule always had a close eye on you, even when you least expected it. / black fem chubby reader! villain! reader, roleplay, oral (f), overstimulation, miguel has a dick piercing tehehe, penetration, unprotected sex! (pet names! mi alma / my soul, hermosa / beautiful, sweetpea)

(the note.) — finally wrote for my man! prepare to be sick of me 🫶🏾. kinda iffy about this but mwah enjoy, also would loveeee feedback

“am i making you nervous mi alma?” this wasn’t how you expected your day to go. you had plans, big plans that involved a lot of money. you didn’t think the spidervamp would know, but as always you underestimate him.

“far from it” you sneered, wiggling your body around in his white web that had you hanging from the wall. his gaze made you nervous, eyes hard walking around you,examining everything. you were sure he could hear the beats of your heart getting faster the closer he got to you, but you didn’t care - just needing to get out of there

“you can’t leave sweetpea. we have some catching up to do” getting ready to respond with a smart remark, a large gush of wind came over your lower half. it wasn’t until you noticed the fabric of your body suit held in his hand that you realize he ripped it. his eyes turned red looking at you soaking pussy that throbbed, and thick thighs that twitched on command. you smelt heavenly to him, just like your blood and he didn’t know what exactly he wanted to do first. “why would you do that!”

“sh sh sh sh” getting on his knees he spread your legs putting them over his shoulders, his warm breath hit your pussy prompting your eyes to roll to the back of your head. “told you we have some catching up to do mi alma” he put one kiss on you softly taking note when your head got thrown back a slow huff left your mouth.

“ughh n-nouhh” swiping his tongue between your fat lips, slick gathered on the tip of his tongue that he swallowed eagerly, his cock starting to twitch in the skin tight suit making the fabric stretch. having enough of playing with his food, miguel flicked his tongue wildly, and wherever he could reach, his eyes were closed as he moaned in your heat sending vibrations throughout your body. he was so focused on your taste and thighs clenching against his head that he didn’t stop, he kept going up until you had cum just from his tongue three times. your cream dripping down his face and nose shining with wetness, a happy smile precent on his face

“n-no more!” you pled holding your hands up in surrender. “awe that’s cute hermosa. daddy’s not done” pressing a small button his suit came undone leaving him in all of the glory he came into the world with. his large chest flexed, while he cock bounced with each step he took getting closer to you, spreading your legs he took ahold of his dick smearing his precum all over your already messy cunt. the small ring that decorated the pretty mushroom tip, grazed your hot kitty making you jump back in pleasure

“oh this little thing? you can handle it” chuckling miguel pushed deep into you, you both letting a string off curses fall out of your mouths, miguel’s just being in his mother language. he held your thighs giving you hard, slow thrust that took your breath away each time. in your half ripped body suit your tit’s and tummy bounced turning miguel on even more

“la zorra perfecta” he groaned when you pussy clenched, cream fall down to his ball making a mess. the piercing hit your spot constantly, your nails dug into the web making it rip a little and you fall more onto him making your tummy bubbling from the feeling of being close. “c-closeee” you whine pushing yourself off of his dick which only gave him leverage to go deeper

miguel’s hair was glued to his face, cock pulsing inside of you, grabbing your face, you guy’s eyes interlocked. his mouth opened wide, fangs shooting out and plunging into your neck, the pain that made you scream out was turned into a scream of too much pleasure. the venom that miguel’s fangs withheld didn’t effect a soulmate, infact it brought pleasure upon them and not only them but himself.

your creamy slick dripped all over his dick, his thick, gooey cum filling you so much that it fell out of your pussy when he pulled back to look over his work

“that’s was fun mi alma. now let’s get you to bed before the kids wake up” oh how you loved your husband

AAAAHHHHH This is fantastic like it’s so beautiful chefs kiss ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

imagine the task force 141 falsely accusing you of being a traitor to the team. knowing your biggest fear, they use it against you. water. water, where your feet can't touch the ground. water you can't see through. at first it started with waterboarding. then slowly but surely they threatened to drop you into the pool. into the dark, deep pool. even john, who was like a father to you before, didn't help you. no. not at all. actually, he was the one who stepped into the water fully clothed, dragging your crying and squirming form with him into the bloodcurling liquid. your tears blended in with it while you we're screaming, practically begging that you were the wrong one. that you'd never do something like that. but they just stood at the edge of the pool, watching their captain almost drowning your terrified self. how would they react, when they get the information that you really weren't the one...?

💕Would be a dream come true 💕

ೃ⁀➷ domesticity, könig

könig got off to watching you be a mother.

könig hated to admit it. the way he inevitably got turned on whenever he came home from long missions. the way whenever he’d walk through the front door of your home, muddy and dirty boots immediately being taken off by the welcome mat so he didn’t stain the innocence of your home with his trauma and duties from work—the bludge in his pants grew at the sight of how you lived such a domestic life.

he was sure his view was a sight that nearly every man wished for at some point in their life. he felt blessed. blessed that no one else at his base had the privilege to come home to this. with you holding a chubby baby full of fiery strawberry blonde curls—undoubtedly belonging to him—on your wide hips, so full from giving birth no more than two years ago.

your daughter was a bit on the paler side despite having beautiful brown skin, and you always wondered if your genes even fucking tried to show out for you when creating her. she looked and acted so much like her father, the only way to probe that she was yours were your shared lips and her having your hair texture. everything else belonged to könig.

“papa wird bald zu hause sein, kleine liebe,” you reassure your daughter of her father’s return home soon as she began to grow cranky, a daily sign of her missing him. you had just finished breastfeeding her, and that was evident in the way the majority of your tits stuck out like a sore thumb from one of your man’s thin wife beater shirts. hey, you were home alone with nothing but pretty trees and bush surrounding you.

könig couldn’t help but smile at the back of your head as you hummed her a little song as you stirred your pot of food. the way your braids were tied down in a bright pink bonnet, the way the fat of your grown woman body hung out of your booty shorts that did nothing to hide the swallow of your ass, and how your white painted toes filled themselves in your fur slippers. the primal hormones in him filled with testosterone practically rushed to the blood of his dick as he watched you dance around the kitchen with your pretty baby.

this how you got pregnant in the first place.

every day he was grateful he decided to snatch you up and take you back to his home country with him. the way you adapted to his culture the way he did yours—you made sure to teach your baby her two native languages, english and german.

no one knew where you were, and könig liked it that way. you three could play house in peace for the next few months, at least until his next deployment. it was the safest option for you. to take you both out the states where his personal life could possibly be exploited.

no one knew where in austria exactly könig was from, making it harder for anyone to possibly track down his pretty little family. you were able to work in peace without having to worry about someone finding about your husband’s real job and eventually figuring out where your daughter went to daycare. it was peaceful for you in austria. as far as the neighbors knew, your husband was in the military occasionally on long deployment missions.

not exactly a lie.

he was never 100% at ease leaving his two girls anywhere, but he knew that if you were at least living in a place that he knew like the back of his fucking hand, his anxiety would calm down just a bit while on missions.

you fall completely deaf to the sound around you as your daughter babbles in your ear while you cooked. the delicious aroma of your wonderful food fills your husband’s nostrils as he finally decides its time for him to finally come out the shadows.

your baby continued to babble things in german-english as you began to plate food only for yourself like you’d done for the past six months, completely unbeknownst to the masculine presence behind you.

“my pretty wife always manages to make such delicious meals,” the hoarse voice manages to startle you to the point where you drop your pot spoon on the floor. “been starved for a plate, lover.”

your daughter turns her head before you do, and immediately fights to be put down from your arms. at the sight of her father, she gives a bright two-toothed grin and opens her arms. “daddy daddy!”

könig wastes no time in ripping off his mask and plastering a big kiss on his baby’s cheeks. “meine hübsche prinzessin,” he greets, engulfing “been a good girl for mommy, yeah?” the ice blue eyes question as they falter over to you. you’re still standing in shock that könig chuckles at the innocence on your face. the same one he’s been in love with for years now.

he didn’t blame you though, you didn’t expect him back for at least another two months.

könig wastes no time in walking over to you, and of course the first place his hands touch are your wide hips. his pink lips smash onto your brown ones and he wastes no time in engulfing all of you into him.

he doesn’t miss the way that small tears fill his shirt. he knows you’ve been alone in a secluded area, in an almost foreign place where you hardly knew anyone. he knew how lonely you must of felt having to do all this by yourself. he was here for you now.

god, he missed you. his good, pretty little wife.

This right here DELICIOUS😆

ellie with a breeding kink is all i think about

it’s been a while. 💗🎀

cw: strap on sex (r!reciving), breeding kink, mating press, darcyphilia, semi-public sex, protective ellie. MDNI

her forehead presses onto yours.

her firm chest merges with your own, she squeezes down your breast, plays with the plushy fat and flicks your hard nipple with her thumb.

she’s sweating, face painted in a red hue, eyebrows scrunched together, a prominent line in between.

when her large hand intertwines with yours and squeezes it, you nearly cry. her thumb brushes upon your scorching hot, sticky and glistening skin and she caresses, she comforts.

“can’t t-take it” you hiccup.

oh, she knows.

she shushes you intently, smiling against your lips so big you can feel her teeth graze them, then she pecks your shaky bottom one and suckles your silly idle pout away.

“yes y’can baby, know you can”, her voice is raspy, quiet, velvety and nothing short of tantalizing.

a fat tear streamlines down your cheek, you whine, trembling voice breaking a pathetic screech.

you feel so full.

“mhm, keep crying, gonna make me cum if you keep crying”

you squeeze her hand and she squeezes yours again. hard. it nearly hurts, it doesn’t, though.

ellie lets out a throaty chuckle. “jus’ wet everywhere, huh?…” she slams her hips harder, harsher, she keeps on chuckling, her pelvis meets yours then her voice cracks. “cheeks wet, pussy’s—“ slam! “fuckin’” slam! “weeping”

patrol’s don’t usually go like this. hell, you usually don’t even go on patrols. she doesn’t like it when you do, she scoffs when you ask, and this time — this time she just nodded. “kay, grab the gun”, she spoke quietly, and then she opened the door. when you stepped out of her home, her chest pressed against your back.

you felt a bulge against your ass. she wore it for you. you didn’t notice it this morning, didn’t notice it in the early afternoon. only now, when you stepped outside to the gentle caress of a warm breeze.

“gonna be good though, right?” she rasped against your skin, you trembled, you nodded. she squeezed your hip then stepped aside.

“mhm, i bet” was all she muttered in response.

this wasn’t a regular patrol, that’s for sure.

so when your soaking, achy, red hole squeezes around her thick silicone shaft and sucks her in like she might run away if you don’t, ellie’s eyes go crossed. she bites her bottom lip hard, puffs hot air out of her lips and grunts out your name. you moan so sweetly, squeaking around her almost, ellie has to shake her head and chuckle in dismay. “never t-t-takin’ you on p-patrol again, filthy, fuckin’ girl”

you wail a “no, please!”

how terrible.

she fucks you harder.

spreading your legs forcefully with her palms, your thighs begin to shake and burn, ellie squats in between them and lowers her gaze to watch your cunt take her girth in. her pussy twitches in response, clit pumping and rubbing against the base.

she has her jeans down to her ass.

she’s so wet it streams down her naked creamy thighs.

she always fucking smiles, has that devilish twinkle in her eye, that cocky scoff leaving her lips when her ears catch on to the wet squelching noises coming from your abused and swollen cunt.

it’s disgusting, filthy and obscene.

then she toys and plays with your clit like it’s her goddamn ps controller, moving her thumb in calculated circles and it’s delicious.

“el-l-lie”

you squeak and wail like a dogs brand new chew toy.

“s’my name, mhm, louder” she commands, voice not as velvety now, not as smooth, not as sharp, only consumed by desperation. you utter her name again, louder, she agrees, she mewls. “ellie’s, fuuuuuuuh! ngh— sweet, fuckin’ pussy”

you recognize that tone. it’s fuckdrunk and pussy whipped and she’s closer than ever, the smooth milky and creamy ring your cunt formed on her dick a hypnotic show.

you egg her on.

“s’de-ee-p, so deep, ellie! your dick’s so g—“

ellie falls on her hands and reaches closer to your face. her hot breath overwhelms you, fans over your nose and your mouth, then her freckles overwhelm you, then her green orbs overwhelm you. you scream out her name, she shifts her weight on to her shoulders and slaps her hand on your mouth. you bite down on her flesh and ellie winces, then places it on your lips again with a slap.

she knows what game you’re playing with your filthy words and your whorish whines. attempting to make her cum before you do — it’s playful for you, for her… it’s so much more.

it’s an ego thing.

so she shuts you the fuck up.

and now she looks terrifying.

you have dirt on your scalp, grass stuck to your sticky and salty tears covered face, you don’t care.

so ellie picks up her pace, slamming her cock deeper and faster down and into your cunt, fucking her entire length into you, her tip kissing and grazing and kissing the bottom of your cervix each time she bottoms out. your moans are guttural even when blocked by her hand.

your tears are so beautiful, shiny and sleek and they keep on goddamn streaming down your swollen puffy cheeks, ellie moves closer to your ear and builds herself a nest there. then she whispers, sweet praises and sweet nothings till your thighs shake some more.

“m’gonna fuck a kid into you, huh? want my fuckin’ babies, yeah?”

it’s a juxtaposition.

how are her words so lewd and her voice so saccharin and sweet as honeycomb and vanilla cupcakes. how is she so quiet and so loud.

she grunts harsh.

you’re consumed by the sounds coming from her lips and the sounds of her cock slapping inside your cunt.

“fill you your cute pussy u-up with my fuckin’ cum, you’d like that, know you would, you’d love it, you’d fuckin— cream f-for it”

your moans grow louder and louder, she replaces her palm on your mouth with two salty fingers down your throat. you don’t bite them, you suck.

“good girl”, ellie rasps.

then ellie keeps on mumbling.

“t-then…” she sucks on your earlobe because she can’t help it, then she pecks your cheek and tastes your tear. she swallows, “no m-more fuckin’ questions about patrols, none of that fuckin’ shit, jus’— oh fuck, filled with m-my fuckin’ babies”

I will gladly have his babies \(^ヮ^)/\(^ヮ^)/

What if dilf orc has a young child, the bearer of his child unfortunately passed away. Then he sees you. A plump soft human, a bit softer than the usual orc parent, but in his eyes your tenderness would be perfect for his youngling.

He begins to court you immediately. Always brushing past you to subtly scent you, bringing his sweet baby with him to try and sway your choices. Of course the little orc toddler immediately makes your heart melt, the way they waddle over to you curiously, the orc child despite being extremely young was already up to your waist.

If you give into his courting? Be prepared for princess treatment. Being carried everywhere by him as the new parent of his child. Of course you’d naturally gain a lot of muscle from being with him, due to an orcs typical rugged lifestyle and the fact that your new adopted orc toddler likes to be carried and coddled! How could you say no to such a chubby cute face? You’ll be carrying them a lot, and orc babies are HEAVY so yeah, prepare to get swoll.

But to compensate I can definitely see your orc dilf spouse making sure you get more than enough food, after all you’re burning way too many calories carrying his youngling around, and plus he needs to keep you squishy for optimal cuddles.

DILF orc always brings you home gifts from fights or battles, mainly skulls of his enemies (how charming 🥰) or maybe a whole deer, already cut up and prepared for you to cook, he’s very doting.

This man could put me in a chokehold anytime!!! ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡(✿ ♥‿♥)(✿ ♥‿♥). ( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

content — black fem! reader, mirror sex, fingering, chokehold, dumbification, backshots, deep penetration, praise, jason talks you through it.

nsfw content ☆ 18+ minors dni. ageless & blank blogs will be blocked

jason todd is the type to fuck you in front of a mirror when he wants to prove a point to you. feeling insecure? he’ll make you watch your reflection while he holds you, his chest to your back as he pumps his fingers in and out of your hot, sticky pussy.

feeling bratty? he has no problem providing you with an attitude adjustment, one massive bicep flexing around your neck and the other holding you by the hip to keep you steady while he pounds you from behind. he stares you down the whole time, grinning smugly at the way you whine and babble for more.

and his absolute favorite? he loves fucking you in prone bone after you’ve had a long day, his weight pressing you into the mattress so he can reach nice and deep. he’ll hold your chin in one hand, directing your attention to the large mirror in the corner of his bedroom so you can see exactly how wrecked you look under him.

“just focus on us, baby.” he husks in your ear, littering kisses along your neck and shoulder while he watches you fall apart. “see how pretty you look right now? you’re doing so good f’me.” he chuckles when you gasp his name, choking out half coherent sentences in between the garbled moans he wrenches from deep in your throat. “shh, princess. don’t want you to worry about a thing, ‘kay? jay’s gonna take care of ya.”

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