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[gojosprettyprincess]

TOJI FUCKING YOU WITH HIS GUN ૮꒰ྀི⊃´ ꒳ `⊂ྀི꒱ა

Tw - gun play, dubcon. Don’t take this seriously, I was like half asleep while writing it :( Not proofread.

“You’re so disgusting baby, can’t believe you’re getting off from this” Toji scoffs in a condescending tone. He callously digs the nuzzle of his gun further into your bare cunt with brutal force that made your legs tremble.

The foreign sensation had your toes instinctively curling in the air because of the startling touch of the cool metal pressing into your delicate core.

“N-no, g-get it out!” You pleaded fearfully, your voice quivering as you desperately tried to wiggle yourself off his lap. His strong grip on your thighs only tightened, preventing your escape. You could feel the warm pool of slick gradually welling up around his gun as it slowly sank deeper into your drooling cunt.

“No? Then why’s this pussy so wet, you’re soaking up my gun like a pathetic little slut, baby” he chuckled wickedly at the irony as he peered down to where you’re seated on his lap, your back is flushed against his taut abs— feeling the warmth of his body enveloping yours.

He unawarely licks his scarred lips at the pretty mess encircling between your plush thighs. An evident wet patch is forming around his gun and he can’t help but coo at how messy you are, despite how dangerous it is.

Or maybe that’s why you’re so messy to begin with.

“You know I can pull the fucking trigger right now and you’ll die but I bet that didn’t cross your mind, did it?”. He taunts mockingly, starting a slow pace in your cunny and watching how the inviting little hole happily swallows the gun deeper in. “As long as you have something stuffed in this greedy pussy, that’s all you care about, huh?”.

You immediately released a delicious moan when the gun’s trigger brushes against your throbbing clit, rubbing against it and creating a new wave of pleasure. You felt a rush of embarrassment as your body betrayed your own resistance.

Toji’s eyes lit up with pure satisfaction, taking pleasure in your helplessness.

“Fuck— you’re so sick Toji!” You exclaimed before thrashing your head back against his hard chest, a shuddering sigh escaping your lips as your eyes clenched shut tightly. Your heart thundering in your chest as the cool metal invaded your most intimate part.

“Awe but you love it, don’t you baby. s’why your little cunt is drooling everywhere”. His breath is hot against your ear, sending shivers down your spine because of how it gave you goosebumps.

You wanted to deny it, to fight against the forbidden pleasure he was forcing upon you but the way your eager core was clenching with need around the unfamiliar object wasn’t making it even slightly possible.

He pressed his gun further, inch by inch until you were fully impaled by the steel. The metal widened the entrance of your cunny, forcibly stretching it open as he fucks in and out. The sight of his muscular forearm tensing and bulging with his motions didn’t help your cunt from soaking the object one bit.

He deftly maneuvers the arm that had been holding your thighs, positioning it underneath to allow him to bring his hand up to delicately tease your hard nipples, gently rolling it between his rough fingertips. You arched against his touch, a soft moan escaping your lips. “Need you to cum f’me baby, cum on daddy’s gun yeah? You can do it”.

His words are like fuel to the fire, igniting a need deep within you. You can feel the tension coiling tighter, the gun’s trigger teasing your sensitive bud with every thrust and working against your favor.

“N-no…I..fuck!” You struggled to form coherent words as Toji’s skilled movements pushed you closer to the edge. You can feel the way his clothed erection is throbbing underneath your ass, poking against you like it’s trying to bore a hole into your body.

“Come on baby, y’can do it, cream on it f’me” his voice is commanding, leaving no room for refusal. The gun was repeatedly hitting your sweet spot, prodding and poking against it for your arousal. It made your resistance crumble, your body surrendering to the overwhelming pleasure.

“Mmph! Toji— stop–fuckk!” You cried out, your nails digging into his hefty forearm as you rode the wave of ecstasy. Your juices was steeping out and soaking both him and the weapon. The sticky cream decorating his gun and leaking onto his lap. He licks a long stripe of your face with a proud grin as he keeps plunging it in and out of you.

“Fuck yes, that’s a good girl, baby. Look at that fucking mess, shit” he groans as his hardened cock twitches with desperate need to be buried inside of you.

He quickly pulled the gun out of your soppy pussy and brought it up to your face for you to witness. Your essence was leaking everywhere as he showed you the mess. “See that? You’re nothing but a fucking whore that wants always something buried up your cunt. But s’okay baby, that’s why I love you”. He hummed contentedly with a warm kiss on your temple.

“Clean it” that was all you heard before he stuffed the gun into your mouth, making you gag around it as you tasted the sweet remnants of your own essence. The taste melts on your tastebuds, making you whimper. You swirled your tongue around the metal, sucking off your cum.

“That's it, baby,” he growled in a hoarse tone, thick with desire, urging you to continue. “Keep sucking it, get it all wet, and soak f’me so I can bury it in your other hole next”.

[elysianightsss]

AAAHHHHH! HI! So sorry to bother you, but I read the neurodivergent reader x 141 and AHHHHH I AM LITERALLY SCREAMING, DROOLING, CHEWING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE they wont let me out

i have a little idea… how would poly 141 react when they find out your job isnt this cute barista or something along those lines, but just a regular stocking associate or a cashier for some huge corporation. like, they know you work. and every time you leave, they see you die a little on the inside from having to go to *insert shitty job*. They just didnt know that you were working there and now they are trying whatever they can to convince you to quote your job and stay home… i know i would rather stay home and take care of them than going to my job…

Oh anon I love your brain! As someone who used to be a cashier before I got my fucking wonderful, literally no joke amazing office job, I fuck with this. I’m writing them as roommates tho don’t know why just deal with it😘

It starts off with a debate over what time you get up in the mornings given how tired you seemed today. But then they realise, they don’t even know what you do for work. Johnny predicts that you’re one of those cute baristas in sweet little aprons with how good the flavoured coffees you make him in the morning when he’s back from his run, are.

Kyle can’t seem to fathom you’re not the office sweetheart he seems to picture you as. Though you’d been living with them for almost over a year now, the guys were gone before you left for work and back long after you arrived home. Still he had it in his head the whole time that you were putting on tight pencil skirts and heels in the morning before going off to work. Something he argues tooth and nail with Johnny about.

John scoffs hearing the guys argue, usually keeping out of it, but this time he can’t help himself when he interjects with, “Yer both chattin shit. She’s obviously a baker with those mouth watering pastries she makes us.” Now that opens up the argument further.

Simon is the only one who doesn’t speculate, instead he walks right up to you on a Sunday night as the guys are all readying themselves for bed and you’re making your lunch for tomorrow. “Luv.” He calls, you glance at him, eyes honing in on the way his grey sweatpants hang low on his hips. Dangerous, dangerous man.

Looking back to the fruit you were slicing, you hum in acknowledgment, “Wot’s ya job?”

You bite back the grin that fights to split your face in two, turning to him you see he visibly softens at your little smile, “I’m a cashier.” You answer, ears tinging red a little. In all honesty you were embarrassed that you worked for one of those big corporations. The dreams you had once but were never able to reach are like a damp on your heart. Like a festering mould that only grows in the worst conditions.

Sometimes you enjoy the people, there are some nice ones that overcome the bad interactions. But everyday you pull on the trousers and trainers, and that itchy uniform top, you wish that a snowstorm would lock you inside the house. You pray to receive a call telling you not to come in due to a fire that started in the bakery. Your heart aches to be told you’re allowed to go home early even if you won’t be paid as much at the end of the month.

Simon hadn’t said much after you told him, his eyes darkened a little when he asked if you enjoyed it and you had answered swiftly and without hesitation; no.

Then suddenly, the guys are leaving for work a little later in the morning. The same time as you. John offering you a lift to work, Johnny making you coffee instead of the other way around, Kyle giving you one of his soft jackets so at least your arms will be comfortable even if your torso is covered in that itchy material.

Simon is the one who places his hand on your forehead and tuts beneath his black surgical mask. You scoff when Simon says he doesn’t think you should go in today, “I feel fine.” You counter with a frown, pushing his big paw away and shoving your feet into the uncomfortable trainers.

John stares down at them like they’ve offended him personally, “You own comfier shoes lass.” Johnny comments and Kyle nods in agreement.

“I have to wear them.” You say quietly wondering why they suddenly have such an interest in your work attire. Have to. Well, that just wasn’t acceptable. The guys didn’t think you should have to do anything.

The weekends were a little weird too. You would usually cook them meals and sweet pastries or cakes with how hard they worked, they deserved nothing less. But Johnny is ushering you away from the kitchen when you walk past the dining table and the marble counter island to make him a coffee.

John says no thank you in the most strained way you’ve ever heard it when you offer to make him a sweet treat. He deflates even further into the sofa when you look offended at his decline. Kyle pulls you close to him on the other side of the couch, putting an arm around you, he continues reading his book but it’s out loud this time.

You sigh snuggling close to him, head on his shoulder when Simon brings over one of the many plushies you’d left on the floor of the lounge, again, and one of the many soft blankets you’d unnecessarily bought for the house. Maybe you could get used to this, you thought as your eyes started to blink slower. It had been a really long week, with lots of assholes. A week of sitting in that uncomfortable chair had done a number on your back too.

You’re just lucky that you’d said from the very beginning that you won’t work weekends, at least you could have those to yourself. The guys became even more attentive, not that they weren’t before, but it increased tenfold. And you wondered why.

Why Kyle is packing you a lunch box everyday now. Why Johnny is cuddling up to you at night just so you sleep warmer, better. Why John is willing to race away from very important paperwork to sit outside the big supermarket you worked at just so you didn’t have to take the bus home. Why Simon keeps buying you lush smelling soaps, bath salts and those sparkly bathbombs he knows you love, you have so many now you don’t know what to do with them. Even when you ask him to stop, he shakes his head and grunts out, “Baths are good for sore muscles.” And that’s all you get.

You just want to know why, what brought all of this on. And most of all why it all suddenly stops.

Almost like a calculated mission, like a big discussion had happened before hand. All of it stopped. They had left long before you got up for work, no lunch ready to go, no soft jacket waiting by the door, no cuddle reading sessions on the weekend, no more new bath stuff, no more lifts and an expectant look in John’s eyes when it gets to dinner time.

They’d done a total three sixty. Like they wanted to show you how good it could be with their help, how much easier life could be, going to work could be, only just to take it all away.

That’s exactly what their plan had been, Simon’s idea mostly with little suggestions made by the rest of them. They all executed it thoroughly, now all that’s left for them is to compete the final step.

“Doll I think you should quit your job.” John goes first, you frown excessively. What the hell is he talking about, you think.

“Have you gone mad?” You huff. John knows you’re annoyed with them, hell they all know you’re angry by their actions. But it’s a necessary evil.

“Not yet I don’t think,” John jokes and feels a little lighter when the corner of your lip quirks up slightly, “I am serious.” He says simply, his blue eyes burning into you before he walks away. You think it so odd, strange that he says that out of the blue.

And then Kyle says it too. Coming into your room with the same baby Yoda squishmallow Simon had placed in your lap two weeks ago, and the same blanket. He gestures towards your bed, it’s subtle but you nod. Failing to hide his grin, Kyle gets snuggled up under the blanket with you, your arms wrapped around the plushie.

He’s halfway through the book, hand brushing through your hair scratching at your scalp deliciously when he broaches the subject, “Bun?” You scrunch up your nose, blinking your eyes open to look at him accusingly. The sight makes him chuckle softly, you’re screaming with your eyes, how dare you make me open my eyes and be fully conscious.

He leans forward before he can stop himself and rubs his nose against yours sweetly, something he tells himself later was just to butter you up before talking. It wasn’t.

“I don’t think you should go to work anymore.” He says simply, with ease, his voice calm.

“What?” You blink rapidly waking yourself up fully to actually take in what he just said.

“Just something to think about bunny.” He shrugs and goes back to reading with that damn lulling voice. You don’t stop him, don’t interrupt but your mind is swirling the same way it had the day before when John had said something similar.

Johnny is not so tactful, shovelling his breakfast in his mouth. Half masticated bacon and scrambled eggs rolling around in his wide open trap, when he spits out the words. “Quit yer job lass, no one wants to be stackin shelves and scannin someone else’s shit all day.” He scoffs washing his food down with the caramel flavoured coffee you made him five minutes ago. He’s quick to put the plate in the sink and place a sloppy kiss on your cheek. His head bend slightly, eyes level with you, “Think about it pet.” He pats your cheek lightly and earns a much more harsh smack to the back of his head by Kyle on the way out of the house.

And finally Simon…well Simon…um Simon just did what he thought was best, what he thought was necessary, what he thought would get you to comply the quickest…

You pant harshly, fingers gripping onto the light bronde hair painfully hard, yanking with each stripe Simon licked up your cunt. You barely noticed John walking passed your open bedroom door with a smirk, Simon had his face buried so deep in your pussy it was hard to think, hard to conjure up your own name let alone open your eyes and catch Kyle and Johnny pushing your door open a little wider and watching for a moment before Kyle drags Johnny away.

Simon’s broken too many times to fix, crooked nose brushed against your clit wonderfully, tongue fucking into your quivering hole making you buck your hips desperate for the release he’d been denying you for around twenty minutes now.

“Say it.” Simon cooed, encouraging you gently. Shaking your head, teeth biting down on your lip, holding on as tightly to your words as you held onto Simon.

Simon grips your jaw in his big paw, a sharp look comes across his features as though he’s about to scold you when you meet his gaze, thumb rubbing your clit in tight, rough circles to keep the stimulation enough, to keep you there on the edge so he has you right where he wants you.

“Say it and you can cum.” He promises, your eyes widen, stinging harshly with their own promise of tears should you keep this up.

“b-but-“

“No buts. We’ll take of everything sweetheart, oll ya afta to do is write the resignation letter, then stay here as our pretty little housewife.” He kissed your clit before moving his thumb back in its place, circling slower this time. You gasp, a broken sob wrenching itself from your chest as your orgasm starts to slip away with the lack of stimulation.

“Please! Please Si! I-“

“Oll ya afta do is say it. Quit, find yourself a cute hobby, cook and clean for us a little. Oll ya afta do is say yes and I’ll let ya cum luv.” He grins evilly when you whine, blowing on your cunt before licking a hard long stripe from your puckered asshole to your swollen, throbbing clit.

��yes! please yes I’ll quit just pl-“

Simon doesn’t let you finish your plea, devouring your pussy like a man starved. He licks, sucks, and flicks your clit, slipping his thick fingers inside your clenching, empty hole thrusting them in and out doing his best to match the pace he set with his tongue on your clit.

You cum hard, untamed. Back arching uncomfortably, limbs shaking rigorously and Simon slurps up everything you give him. You lay there trying to catch your breath when Simon crawls up your body to hover over you. His eyes meet yours when he grins, “Good girl. Now why don’t we get started on that resignation letter hmm.” It wasn’t a question.

Safe to say you happily quit your job.

[jarofstyles]

I don’t know if you’d want to write this but I’ve been reading some stuff with primal play and I feel like you’d do a good job with it! Or something with that vibe. Anything with that, I’d love to see!

Omg I’d love to do that! I’ll try and do something with Wolfrry and that at some point as a whole one shot but I’ve whipped up an enemies/lovers little thing for you. Thank you for the suggestion!

Check out our Patreon for early access and 230+ exclusive writings and series.

Warnings- primal play, cum play, edging, a bit of degrading, exhibitionism, Dom!Harry, finger sucking, daddy kink if you squint

————————

He had her where he had been waiting to get her. Pretty, perky, perfect Y/N knelt on the floor, the filthy bathroom floor of the club, looking like the slut she was- the girl he had been chasing for months now, being met with resistance, a cat and mouse game that made him want her even more.

Her hair was a mess from his fingers, her face flushed, and her lips swollen from kissing, the unusual unkempt appearance making his cock throb. It was obvious she had her hair done tonight, perfectly pin straight and pretty as it had flowed over her shoulder- now ruined from his hands. He took it as a stroke to the ego, making the only girl he ever knew to be so put together into a disheveled mess.

He’d gotten her where they both knew she wanted to be, holding one of his digits in her mouth, sucking gently as she gazed up at him with wide, adoring eyes, mouth hot and her tongue unbelievably soft as she ran it over the underside of the digit. Brushing over the ring at his knuckle even as she pulled back to the tip, he watched her clenched hands squeeze together as they rested on her thighs, waiting for her next command.

This sweet little thing sullying herself by sucking his finger like it was his cock, showing him exactly what he could expect, it only spurred him on. The impatience was starting to show by the minute, just letting her do this. Watching her get more and more desperate. Her tongue swirled around the digit, teasing the tip before taking it deeper, mimicking what he really needed around his dick. “D’you want something, baby?” He feigned innocence as his other hand palmed over his cock through his pants. “Hm?”

He chuckled darkly as she let out a hum. Still stubborn. Slowly, he withdrew his finger, letting it out with an obscene pop from between her swollen lips. Her eyes fluttered as she gazed up at him, a string of saliva connecting her lips to his fingertip that he promptly wiped over her perfectly made up cheek. "Tell me what you want, angel. Use your words. Thought you were running your mouth tonight about how you can’t stand me, and now y’can’t even pull your mouth off my fingers t’tell me what you want?" His voice low and teasing. The hand palming his cock squeezed gently as he waited for her request, knowing damn well what she craved.

“I..” She didn’t want to admit it. Harry won this game most of the time, but he had her in the sweet spot. Incredibly horny and desperate for approval. This was always the hardest part of it. Getting past her pride. Somehow, she always gave in. “I want to suck you off. Please.”

A wicked grin spread across his face at her words, his eyes glinting with satisfaction. It was one of his favorite parts, watching her unravel like she hadn’t been scoffing at him earlier. Like he didn’t know she’d end up on her knees saying ‘please, Daddy’ while begging for his cock. They both knew how this went. It was just a question as to who would break first every time they saw each other. How long it would take for him to catch her.

He unzipped his pants slowly, revealing his cock. Y/N hated how much she loved it, how thick it was, how obvious it was that their back and forth and the thrill of the chase had the tip ruddy and wet. He was leaking and she had been the one to do it. There wasn’t an ounce of embarrassment on his face as he took it into his hand, stepping closer to her kneeling form. "Come here then. Show me how badly you want it." He gripped his cock, stroking it slowly as he watched her with a hungry gaze. "Pout those pretty lips like you did before. I want t’see that again."

She did as he asked, letting her bottom lip poke out as she looked up at him in slight confusion- before he brought the tip over to her mouth. “Keep that pout.” He instructed when she went to open it, gripping her hair in his fingers as he dragged the tip over her bottom lip. Tracing over each one, he let out a soft hum as he painted her lips with his own arousal, watching his precum slick over her lower lip. Repeating the process again, he watched her lips glisten in the shitty light of the stall. Somehow, he hadn’t seen anything better in his life- Her pouted lips, glossy with the evidence of how much she worked him up.

“There we go. Made me so hard, looking the way you do. Y’look so pretty on your knees for me, but I think you needed that touch up.” Rubbing the top back and forth over the seam of her lips, he let out a groan as she pursed them. “Think you like it too. Filthy little thing. Pretending y’havent been gagging for it.. Runnin’ from me like we both don’t know you’re gonna get caught and you’re gonna get on your knees or bend over f’me after you talk all that shit to your friends about what an asshole I am… Leading me to places you shouldn’t be just to get a taste.”

She clenched her thighs together unconsciously, trying to ignore the throbbing ache between them- the one he always put there. When he finally pulled away, she couldn't help but lick her lips, tasting the trace him. Her eyes lulled as the salty-sweet flavor hit her tongue, and a soft, involuntary moan escaped her. Her gaze darted up to meet his, embarrassment and arousal warring in her expression- smugness on his own.

She hated how much she loved it.

“Yeah, I know.” He cooed. “Y’love to taste me. Daddy’s good little whore.” Her expression turned to confusion as he slipped himself back in his trousers, zipping them back up. She was ready and on the floor, hands on her knees- and he was putting it away?

Harry caught the look, a patronizing smile on his face as he reached down to cup her chin. “What? Did you think you could run ‘round, acting like a brat this whole time n’I was just going to give you what you want?” Clicking his tongue, he shook his head. Giving her chin a squeeze he motioned for her to get back up on her shaky feet.

“Not getting an inch of my cock in here. You’re goin’ to go back out there with all your little friends, act like you weren’t jus’ on your knees on this filthy bathroom floor for me.. Complain about me watching you like it doesn’t make that cunt soak whatever panties you’ve got on. S’alright, baby. I know the drill.” Squeezing her cheeks, he watched her face morph into irritation despite his grip. Just how he wanted her. “All you’re getting is the taste of me on that smart mouth. When you’re done, meet me in the hallway. If I get a lick of attitude from you, you aren’t getting anything else.”

[writeriguess]

Hey hun! Welcome back 😘

So, i have a kind of slow burn idea for a Bakugo x fem!reader fic. They both like each other and when she tries to ask him out or talk to him about it, he's kind of an ass 😅

He thinks she'll be in the way or a distraction to his goal, so he pushes her away. He can't get her out of his head though and their friends tell him he's being an idiot. Eventually, he cracks and tells her (in his very 'katsuki' way) that he does want to be with her.

Angst ending with lots of fluff, confessions, and a kiss please!

author's note: Thank you so much! <3 I just wanted to say that your idea was incredible, and I had such a great time writing it. It turned out to be much longer than I expected, but it was definitely worth it!

Heart of Dynamite

It started with stolen glances. You weren’t sure when you first noticed, but something about the way Bakugo Katsuki acted around you was different. He wasn’t nice, not by any stretch of the imagination, but there was something else buried beneath the rough edges and sharp remarks. A fleeting glance when he thought you weren’t looking. The way he always seemed to hover nearby during group exercises, subtly ensuring you didn’t get caught off guard.

You weren’t blind. You saw the way his crimson eyes would flick to you during lunch, only for him to look away just as quickly if you caught him. You noticed how his explosions during sparring would seem almost… controlled when directed your way—less destructive, more calculated. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make you wonder. Enough to make you hope.

The problem was, Bakugo being Bakugo, he’d never admit to something as human as feelings. If he did like you, he was keeping it buried under a mountain of anger, pride, and whatever complicated emotions made up Katsuki Bakugo.

But still, the moments added up. And with each passing day, your crush grew stronger. You hated the way your heart fluttered when he called you by name instead of his usual nicknames for everyone else. You hated how you’d secretly look forward to his biting remarks because, in some twisted way, it was his version of paying attention to you.

And most of all, you hated how much courage it took to even consider confessing to him.

After weeks of agonizing over it, you finally decided you couldn’t live with the "what if." No matter what, you needed to know.

The opportunity came on a rare quiet evening at the dorms. Everyone else had gone out for karaoke, leaving you and Bakugo alone. He was sprawled on the couch in the common area, his arms crossed, staring at some mindless action movie playing on the TV.

You hovered at the doorway, your heart racing. You almost turned back, but then his gruff voice interrupted your thoughts.

"What the hell are you standing there for? You look like a damn idiot."

You flinched, but quickly steeled yourself. "I just… needed to ask you something."

His gaze flicked to you, crimson eyes narrowing slightly. "Then spit it out already. Don’t waste my time."

Your hands were clammy as you stepped closer, each word feeling heavier than the last. "Do you… want to go out with me? Like, on a date?"

For a moment, Bakugo just stared at you. His usual scowl didn’t shift, but you could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes—so quick you almost missed it. His jaw tensed, his hands clenching into fists on his lap.

Then, he scoffed. Loudly.

"You serious?" he said, leaning back against the couch like your question was the stupidest thing he’d ever heard. "Why the hell would I want to go out with you?"

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. Your throat tightened, and your chest felt like it was collapsing in on itself.

"I mean, come on," he continued, his tone sharp and cutting. "What makes you think I’d waste my time on something dumb like that?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks, but not from embarrassment—from the sting of his rejection. You struggled to keep your voice steady. "I just thought… maybe—"

"Well, you thought wrong," he cut you off, his voice cold and unrelenting. "So stop acting like some lovesick idiot and get over it."

The silence that followed was unbearable. You felt like the floor had been ripped out from under you, like you were standing on the edge of a cliff with no way to step back.

"Got it," you said finally, your voice small and strained. You turned on your heel before he could see the tears pooling in your eyes.

Bakugo didn’t move. He stayed on the couch, staring at the TV that he wasn’t really watching. His nails dug into his palms, his jaw clenched so tight it hurt.

"Idiot," he muttered under his breath, though he wasn’t sure if he was talking about you—or himself.

Hours passed, but Bakugo didn’t leave the couch. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind: the look on your face, the way your voice had cracked when he tore you down.

He hated himself for it. Hated the way he’d lashed out, even though he knew it was because he was terrified. Of what? He didn’t know. Maybe of admitting to himself that he cared. Maybe of the fact that you could make him feel so out of control with just one stupid question.

But now it was too late. He’d pushed you away.

You, on the other hand, locked yourself in your room, curled up on your bed, and let the tears flow. You couldn’t believe you’d been so stupid, so naive. Of course Bakugo didn’t like you. Of course he didn’t care. You’d just been projecting your feelings onto him, imagining things that weren’t really there.

Still, the hurt lingered. You tried to convince yourself it didn’t matter, that you’d move on, but the ache in your chest said otherwise.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting downstairs, fists clenched, consumed by his own turmoil. Because for all his bluster, he’d never wanted to hurt you. He just didn’t know how to deal with the truth: that he did like you, more than he was willing to admit.

Bakugo tried to convince himself that what he’d said to you was necessary. He had goals—real, tangible goals—and nothing, no one, was going to distract him. Becoming the Number One Hero wasn’t just a dream for him; it was a mission, an obligation, a destiny he was determined to carve out with his own blood, sweat, and tears. He didn’t need complications. He didn’t need feelings. He didn’t need you. That’s what he told himself over and over as he sat alone in his dorm room, glaring at the wall like it had personally offended him. His fists were clenched tightly in his lap, the tendons in his hands straining from the pressure.

But no matter how hard he tried to justify it, he couldn’t shake the image of your face from his mind. The way your expression had crumbled when he snapped at you, the hurt in your eyes as you turned and walked away—it all replayed in his head on an endless, agonizing loop. He could still hear your voice trembling when you’d asked him out, soft and vulnerable in a way he wasn’t used to hearing from you. You weren’t the kind of person who let your guard down easily, and he’d taken that rare moment of courage and crushed it underfoot.

“Tch,” he growled under his breath, running a hand through his hair and gripping the strands in frustration. “Stupid.”

He thought that pushing you away would make things easier, but it didn’t. If anything, it made everything worse. You were everywhere. Every time he walked into a room, his eyes automatically searched for you, even when he told himself they wouldn’t. When you laughed with your friends, the sound sent an irritating warmth through his chest, only to be followed by a sharp pang of regret when he remembered the look on your face that night. During training, he found himself tracking your every move without even meaning to, his instincts on high alert every time you dodged an attack or threw a punch. He hated it. Hated how you’d wormed your way into his head and refused to leave. Hated how much he wanted to be near you, even after he’d made it clear that he didn’t want anything to do with you.

It didn’t help that everyone else seemed to notice his turmoil. His friends had started giving him strange looks during meals, their eyes darting between him and you as if they were waiting for something to happen. Kirishima, in particular, had been annoyingly persistent, watching him with that infuriatingly knowing expression he always wore when he thought Bakugo was being an idiot. Bakugo did his best to ignore it, but the tension was impossible to escape.

One evening, when the others were hanging out in the common area, Kirishima finally confronted him. Bakugo had been sitting on the couch, staring at his phone without really looking at it, when Kirishima plopped down beside him with a heavy sigh. Mina and Kaminari weren’t far behind, hovering nearby like vultures waiting for a meal.

“Alright, spill it,” Kirishima said, his voice casual but firm. Bakugo barely spared him a glance.

“Spill what?” he snapped, his tone as sharp as ever.

“Don’t play dumb,” Mina chimed in, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at him. “You’ve been acting weird for days, and we all know why.”

“I’m not in the mood for this crap,” Bakugo growled, standing up to leave, but Kirishima quickly stepped in front of him, blocking his path. Bakugo glared at him, his crimson eyes blazing. “Move.”

“Not until you admit what’s going on,” Kirishima said, his voice steady despite the obvious tension in the air. “You pushed her away, didn’t you?”

Bakugo froze, his scowl deepening. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Kirishima said, his tone unusually serious. “Come on, man. It’s so obvious you like her. Everyone can see it.”

“I don’t—”

“Save it,” Mina interrupted, stepping closer with a look that could cut through steel. “We’ve seen the way you look at her. And don’t even get me started on the way you lose your mind whenever she partners up with someone else during training. You care about her, and instead of doing something about it, you’re being a total dumbass.”

Bakugo’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t have time for this crap,” he muttered, shoving past Kirishima and heading for the door. But before he could leave, Kirishima’s voice rang out behind him, stopping him in his tracks.

“You think pushing her away will make you stronger,” Kirishima said, his voice softer now, almost sad. “But all you’re doing is proving how scared you are.”

Bakugo’s shoulders tensed, his hand gripping the doorknob so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out,” Kirishima continued, his tone unwavering. “But running from it won’t make it go away.”

For a moment, Bakugo didn’t move. The room was silent, the air heavy with unspoken tension. Finally, he yanked the door open and walked out, slamming it shut behind him without another word.

That night, Bakugo lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling with an intensity that could have set it on fire. Kirishima’s words echoed in his head, mingling with the memory of your voice and the image of your face. He hated how much it all got to him, how much he couldn’t stop thinking about you no matter how hard he tried. He hated the way his chest ached every time he thought about the hurt in your eyes and the way you’d walked away from him, your shoulders slumped in defeat. But most of all, he hated how much he wanted to see you again, to fix things, to say something—anything—that could make up for what he’d done.

Meanwhile, you were doing your best to move on. You’d been avoiding Bakugo as much as possible, throwing yourself into training and schoolwork to keep your mind occupied. It wasn’t easy, though. Every time you saw him, whether it was in class or during meals, you felt a sharp pang of hurt that refused to go away. You hated how much he still affected you, even after he’d made it painfully clear that he didn’t feel the same way.

But no matter how much you tried to convince yourself that it didn’t matter, that you’d be fine without him, the ache in your chest lingered. You couldn’t help but wonder if you’d been wrong to hope, if you’d been foolish to believe that he might have cared about you even a little.

Little did you know, Bakugo was sitting in his room, wrestling with his own feelings and cursing himself for the way he’d handled things. Because for all his bravado and pride, the truth was unavoidable: he couldn’t stop thinking about you. And the more he tried to push you out of his mind, the more you consumed his every thought.

The days following your rejection from Bakugo had been a haze of hurt and confusion. You tried to keep yourself busy—extra training, study sessions, anything to keep your mind from replaying the harsh way he’d dismissed you. But no matter how much you told yourself to let it go, it lingered. You still felt the sting of his words, the way he’d looked at you like you were an obstacle instead of someone he cared about. That wound didn’t heal easily.

You avoided him as much as you could. You’d shift to a different group during training, sit at the far end of the cafeteria during meals, and leave the common area whenever he showed up. It wasn’t as subtle as you hoped; your friends noticed, and you were pretty sure Bakugo did too. Still, you couldn’t face him—not after everything he’d said.

What you didn’t know was that your absence weighed on him far more than he let on.

Bakugo was not a man who easily admitted to mistakes. Pride had been ingrained in him from an early age, and he carried it like armor. But lately, that armor felt suffocating, like it was pressing in on him from all sides. He couldn’t stop thinking about you, couldn’t stop replaying the hurt in your eyes when he’d lashed out. Every time he saw you purposely turning away from him or laughing with someone else, he felt a sharp pang of regret that he didn’t know how to fix.

Kirishima’s words lingered too. “You’re scared because you like her so much it freaks you out. But running from it won’t make it go away.” As much as Bakugo wanted to punch him for saying it, he knew it was true. He’d been running from his feelings because they terrified him. You terrified him—not because you were weak, but because of how much power you had over him without even realizing it. And that was what scared him most of all.

Eventually, he couldn’t take it anymore. Watching you avoid him, knowing he’d been the one to hurt you��it was eating him alive. If he didn’t do something soon, he was going to explode.

That’s what led him here, standing awkwardly a few feet away from where you sat on the bench outside. You hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on the notebook in your lap. For a moment, he hesitated, his chest tightening with something unfamiliar. Was this… nerves? He growled under his breath, frustrated with himself. He was Bakugo Katsuki, for crying out loud. He didn’t get nervous.

“Oi.” His voice came out rougher than he intended, and you jumped slightly, startled by his sudden presence.

You looked up, your eyes widening for a split second before your expression hardened. “What do you want?”

Bakugo flinched at the coldness in your tone, though he tried to hide it. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” you asked, already sounding exasperated. “If this is about training or some stupid lecture—”

“It’s not about training,” he cut in, stepping closer. His jaw tightened as he tried to find the right words. He wasn’t good at this, but he had to try. “It’s about what I said to you before.”

Your eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into your expression. “Why are you bringing that up now? You already made your feelings perfectly clear, Bakugo. I don’t need to hear it again.”

He winced at the way you said his name—so formal, so distant. You used to call him Katsuki, back when things were simpler. Back when he hadn’t ruined everything.

“Just shut up and listen for a second, will you?” he snapped, though there was no real heat in his voice. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “I… I screwed up, alright? I said some shit I didn’t mean, and I hurt you. I shouldn’t have done that.”

Your expression softened slightly, but your arms remained crossed, a barrier he knew he’d have to break through. “Then why did you do it? Why push me away if you didn’t mean it?”

“Because I’m a goddamn idiot,” he admitted, his voice quieter now. His gaze dropped to the ground, his fists clenched at his sides. “I thought… I thought if I let myself like you, I’d lose focus. That you’d get in the way of my goals.”

“And now?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Now I know that’s total bullshit,” he said, finally looking up to meet your eyes. “You don’t make me weaker. You make me want to be better. And no matter how much I tried to ignore it, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. You’re in my head all the damn time, and it’s driving me insane.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession, but you still hesitated. “You really hurt me, Katsuki,” you said softly, the pain evident in your voice. “I don’t know if I can just forget that.”

He stepped closer, his gaze intense and unwavering. “I’m not asking you to forget it. I’m asking for a chance to fix it. I was a dumbass, and I don’t deserve it, but… I want to try. With you.”

The vulnerability in his voice was so raw, so uncharacteristic, that it left you speechless. You searched his face for any sign of insincerity, but all you saw was regret and determination.

“Katsuki…” you began, your voice trembling slightly.

“Look, I know I’m not good at this,” he interrupted, his hands twitching at his sides as if he didn’t know what to do with them. “I’m not some smooth-talking idiot like Kaminari, and I’m probably gonna screw up a hundred more times. But I’ll do whatever it takes to prove I’m not gonna hurt you again.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as his words sank in. This was Bakugo Katsuki—the same boy who never admitted when he was wrong, who bulldozed his way through life without looking back. And here he was, laying his pride at your feet, just for a chance to make things right.

“You’re really bad at this, you know,” you said finally, a small smile tugging at your lips despite yourself.

He huffed, his cheeks turning pink. “Yeah, well, it’s not exactly my strong suit.”

You laughed softly, the sound making his chest tighten in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant. For the first time in weeks, you felt the tension between you start to dissolve.

“So, what now?” you asked, taking a tentative step closer.

“Now I do this,” he said, his voice low as he reached out to cup your face in his hands. His touch was surprisingly gentle, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he leaned in. His crimson eyes searched yours for a moment, and when you didn’t pull away, he closed the distance and kissed you.

The kiss was tentative at first, almost shy, but it quickly deepened as you responded, your hands reaching up to grab the front of his shirt and pull him closer. He kissed you like he was trying to make up for every moment he’d wasted, pouring all the unspoken feelings he couldn’t put into words into that one act.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads resting together, you were both breathless. He smirked, his usual cocky confidence creeping back in. “Told you I’d make it up to you.”

You rolled your eyes, laughing softly. “You’ve got a long way to go, Katsuki.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, but the warmth in his gaze betrayed the gruffness of his tone. “Guess I’ll just have to stick around and prove it.”

And for the first time in weeks, everything felt right.

Feel free to request <3

[jd-loves-fiction]

Coming back to you with another request cuz I loved your previous work

Boothill, Welt, Ratio, Jing Yuan and Gallagher with the same platonic teen reader premise but reader calls them ,,Dad" on accident and they themselves don't even notice it because it comes so naturally to them

🌑so glad you liked it🥺🥺also the dad's of all time yes yes!! Also my internet has been fucked lately that's why uploads are slow sowy 🥺

✦ 𝐁𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐥 ✦

If you look at his lore, he was actually a dad (😭 my Shayla) so yeah big chance he won't notice at all

Because of the trauma associated with his family in general, he'll notice it eventually and be a bit conflicted

On one hand, he's absolutely delighted at the fact that despite being almost entirely made of metal, you are still able to find such fundamentally human comfort within him

And on the other hand, he has a hard time accepting that the man he was before didn't actually die along with most of his body

He won't ever correct you tho, at the end of the day he's just grateful that he's still able to make young folk feel safe around him

Reminds him that he's still human🥺

✦ 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐭 ✦

Did you see the way he basically adopted Sunday the moment he stepped on the express?? Yeah, that's dad right there

He basically adopts every kid (as in, anyone younger than him) that steps aboard the express, so i feel like someone else might've already called him before and he just brushed it off

Same with you, though in his heart he's over the moon

All he wants in life is to make everyone around him feel safe and loved, so to know that you of all people seem to think of him in such a way really warms his heart

Though he'll never point it out in fear of making you embarrassed

He's overjoyed!! But internally :)

✦ 𝐃𝐫. 𝐑𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨 ✦

Truly baffled, at first

He's aware of his reputation and he doesn't mind it but he never expected someone to him that way

Though he's (not so) secretly very pleased

At his core, he's a teacher and that's what he loves to do - spread knowledge to all who seek it

And I'm sorry for reminding you of this but most of us have called our teacher mom/dad before so...

There's a slight chance it's happened before... also a slight chance he very dryly corrected them - "last time i checked i have no children" 🙄

Might do the same to you unless he's in one of his moods, writing down information or just lost in thought - then he'll probably just wave you away wordlessly

I feel like he understands on a behavioral level why you did it and because of it, wont comment on it or bring it up again. It's just something people do sometimes, nothing weird about it

The most neutral out of all of them but will make a mental note about how it probably means you trust him at least a little

When he lets himself be selfish and overthink it, it does warm his heart but you'll never know

✦ 𝐉𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐘𝐮𝐚𝐧 ✦

Actual father to Yanqing YOU CANT CHANGE MY MIND!!

Ooooh he's tearing his hair out trying not to tease you about it

He knows that if he does you'll crawl back in your shell again and thats tHEEE last thing he wants in life, really

It's easy to feel comfortable around him, i feel. He's just a big lazy cat - pretty independent and chill

He's good at just being there when you need him there as well as talking your ear off as a distraction - peak comfort

Definately called Jingliu 'mom' as a kid, come on

And Yanqing did the same with him

So it doesnt surprise him much since he understands its a pretty normal thing but GOOOOD he wants to acknowledge it so BAAADD

HE WANTS TO MAKE IT SILLY BUT NOOOOO 😭

He's an adult now (a very old one at that) so he understands that now is NOT the time

Will keep thinking back on it fondly tho :))

✦ 𝐆𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐠𝐡𝐞𝐫 ✦

Oh oh my... he gives so much deadbeat dad I'm getting nostalgic IM KIDDING

Anyway, as a bartender, i feel like thats happened to him before

People say weird shit when they're drunk so it's very likely someone's called him dad before

Though that feels very different to him

When people do that when drunk it doesn't usually mean anything - he must just remind them of their father (for good or bad) so he doesn't take it too seriously

But you? Oh he's taking it seriously

Ego? Inflated to hell and back

He's being extra sweet and caring with you

Making sure you eat and rest, etc

Gotta live up to his reputation 😉

The dad who stepped up fr

Might tease you about it, but if you have an adverse reaction he'll stop immediately

Very touched that you think of him that way even subconsciously and will try to make sure he doesn't disappoint :)

[goldenroutledge]

someday my prince will come

pairing ⤜ rafe cameron x fem!reader

word count ⤜ 3.7k

summary ⤜ fluff. in which you’ll never feel alone as long as you have rafe, and he’ll never feel alone as long as he has you.

warning(s) ⤜ wedding planning stress, toxic family members

a/n ⤜ inspired by ‘alone together’ - sabrina carpenter || masterlist

Expect the worst and you won’t be disappointed. That’s what you try to tell yourself, hoping it will wish away the cynicism surrounding what is supposed to be the happiest time in your life. Transactional relationships set the norm on Figure Eight for friends and foe alike. Everyone used anyone they could get their hands on, only leaving them for dead when the conditions were no longer suitable.

It should’ve been no surprise that people would be treating your upcoming marriage to Rafe that same way. As if it’s nothing but a transaction curated to mutually benefit yourself, Rafe, and your respective families. Truthfully, your relationship was anything but.

Years together proved that passion still burns between you, in a way that most can’t begin to dream of. Every look, every kiss and every touch holds that passion somewhere deep inside. There was no denying that you two have enough of it to last a lifetime and then some when Rafe got down on bended knee and asked you to spend your life with him. You love Rafe Cameron for all the right reasons and he loves you the same.

Your families and friends around you are fools to not acknowledge that, seemingly destined to have their own ways of projecting insecurities onto the both of you. Planning your wedding was something you imagined to be a magical time, selecting colors and florals that would paint a picture reminiscent of a fairytale. Expect the worst and you won’t be disappointed.

From the moment your perfectly cut diamond ring was noticeable on your left hand, some chose to take it as a personal invitation to assert their unwarranted advice. It started with your mother, divorced and remarried now more times than you care to keep track of. Her guidance hardly resembles the special experience between mother and daughter that planning a wedding usually brings. After one of your first meetings with your wedding planner, you’d come to regret asking your mother to accompany you.

“I just don’t see why he’s walking you down the aisle instead of me.”

“You mean my father? I didn’t think you’d have such an issue with it given you chose to marry and have a child with him.”

“And I chose to divorce the asshole, too.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with me, Mom. You both made your choices and I made mine. My father is going to be at my wedding whether you like it or not.”

“50 feet away from me at all times, I hope.” She speaks lowly, barely under her breath. You’d be burning with embarrassment right now if it weren’t for your wedding planner, ever attuned and able to spot an argument a mile away, who kindly left you and your mother to chat in private.

“Please, don’t worry about that. I’m sure he wants nothing to do with you either. The only difference is that he’s willing to tolerate you for the sake of my happiness.”

“This isn’t about happiness, Y/n. It’s about respect. Had I not raised you right, you wouldn’t be able to attract a man like Rafe in the first place. The least you could do is acknowledge your mother on your wedding day.”

“That’ll make for a beautiful toast at your next brunch with the ladies from the club. I’ll be sure to write that down.” You chide sarcastically, unable to hold back from rolling your eyes at her audaciousness. “It’s good to know that’s what you’re really excited about. Showboating to your friends that I found someone successful, not that I found someone I love.”

“Like it or not, it’s the truth. I’m not afraid to be honest with you unlike some people in your life.”

“What exactly is honest about guilt tripping me into letting you make all of my wedding decisions for me? For us! You’re lucky Rafe isn’t here or he would’ve thrown you out by now.”

“And risk our relationship just when we’re about to be in-laws? You’re ridiculous. I hope he knows the kind of dramatics he’s marrying into.”

“No kidding.”

“I’m not trying to be malicious, dear. I just want you to have your priorities straight.”

“Believe me, they are.”

“You can’t forget your family in the process, my darling. You can’t just leave me behind like I don’t exist because when this marriage is over you’ll realize that I’m not as crazy as you think. You’ll need me again one day.”

“When my marriage is over? This isn’t some fucking contract. We love each other.”

“There’s no need to get hysterical, Y/n. I told myself all the same things too. You’ll see.”

—

Your conversation with your mother left you disheartened at best, infuriated at worst. One look into Rafe’s eyes would have your worries melting away, but you can’t help the nagging feeling inside that’s telling you to say something. You know how much courage it took for him to open his heart to you in the way that he has. You know how much courage it’s taken for you to open your heart, too. You know how with each other it’s been so easy that neither of you really noticed how naturally your love has blossomed. When you fell for each other, there was nothing that could stop you.

That explains why this nagging feeling, that you assume is guilt, simply won’t go away. How can you imagine getting married to Rafe Cameron, the love of your life, and feel anything but unbridled joy. To give a big ‘fuck you’ to everyone doubting your relationship, you’d love nothing more than to proclaim your love for each other in front of a crowd. But in the many scenarios you’ve played in your head, none of them put you at ease.

There was no denying the deep trust that connects you, knowing that you can tell him whatever is on your mind. The worst thing you’ve ever done, the darkest thought you’ve ever had, he will stand by you through anything. And you would do the same for him. It’s why the idea of saying: ‘Hey, by the way, I don’t want a wedding’, is not something you can muster the courage for. Guilt begs you to tell him anyway, knowing how badly he would feel to know you’re suffering in silence like this.

Little do you know, Rafe is troubled in reconciling his own guilt. It’s not just your mother who wants to see the worst come of your relationship. Considering Rafe’s strained dynamic with his father, that should come as no surprise.

Cameron Development takes up most of Rafe’s time these days, leaving him and Ward to spend quite a lot of it together. Rafe prefers to keep their topics of discussion focused on the company. Their relationship works best that way, a transactional partnership between father and son that would benefit the Cameron legacy for generations.

But if it weren’t for Ward’s nagging, Rafe never would’ve ended up here at the Island Club having lunch with his father. He knows for a fact that it would’ve been time better spent with you, his future wife, desperate to feel the kiss of your lips or be able to exhale in your arms in the midst of a busy day.

Ward spends all of 5 minutes discussing some company stuff that could’ve easily been sent in an email drafted by his assistant before getting down to his real intentions. He always hides them behind the mask of a loving father.

“I lied about why I needed to speak with you today.”

Rafe scoffs, but always manages his expectations when it comes to Ward. “Imagine that.”

Ward chuckles, trying to play off his son’s jab as innocent sarcasm. “I wanted to talk to you about your soon-to-be marriage to Y/n.”

Rafe takes a gulp of his drink, already feeling slightly on edge and on guard at the mention of your life together. “What about it?”

“Have you two discussed a prenup?”

“Dad-” Rafe tries to interject, but to no avail. Ward’s already a step ahead of him.

“I know it’s only been a couple months into the engagement, but it’s never too early to have these conversations.”

“I don’t need to worry about having these conversations at all. And you definitely don’t need to be concerned with it either because I’m not asking her to sign a prenup. Simple as that.”

“Rafe, if there’s anything I’ve learned in my marriage to Rose-”

“Your marriage to Rose is a sham. And Y/n is nothing like her.”

“Y/n’s great.” Ward seemingly surrenders, in hopes to disarm Rafe while still getting his point across. “I’m not trying to suggest otherwise. I’m just saying that things happen in marriages and you need to be prepared. What do you think will happen to Cameron Development if she winds up with half in a divorce?”

“If we get divorced, it means that I’ve got bigger problems than potentially losing Cameron Development.” Rafe laments, finishing his drink. “Besides, she wouldn’t want it.”

“You don’t know that for sure.”

“I know her. For sure. Alright?” Rafe fires back, firm intent behind every word. “I know you have a hard time imagining what it’s like to be loved for something other than your money. And I’m sure you have a harder time imagining how she could love me without it. But you can save your fatherly advice, I’m gonna live my life with Y/n without any of your prenup bullshit.”

Rafe grabs his wallet from his pocket, throwing down several bills on the table that he doesn’t bother counting. All that’s on his mind right now is getting back home to you.

“Have a nice day, Dad.”

—

At this point in his life, Rafe has mastered the art of ignoring Ward Cameron. He’s come to accept that they’re simply a better duo in business than as father and son. The family he came from felt less like family when he fell in love with you. Now that you were about to be married, it was gonna be real. You would be each other’s family not only in spirit, but officially on paper. For the rest of your lives you would be where you always belonged; together.

Right now, Rafe can’t shake the feeling that his father is already preparing for everything to fall apart before you two have a chance to build anything more. Logically, he knows the concept of a prenup isn’t a stupid idea. But his father’s intentions for him have proven to be anything but pure. There’s always something in it for Ward.

Rafe loves you, and that means he’s ready to share his life with you, money be damned. Besides there’s nobody more deserving for him to spend it on, no matter how badly you insist that you don’t love him for the fine jewelry or the dates at expensive restaurants around the island. For him, that’s all the more reason why he commits to showing you a lifestyle that’s beyond comprehension.

He wants to tell you about the absolute bullshit his father brought him to lunch to talk about today but hesitates in mentioning it at all. In any other scenario you’d both laugh it off, but this was a special time for your relationship. It’s delicate, and deserves to be handled with care. Rafe wants nothing more than to protect you from anyone looking to tarnish it.

Rafe’s final straw strikes later that night while waiting for you to finish your skincare routine and join him in bed. His phone sounds with several text messages from Topper. His eyebrows furrow in curiosity, expression quickly turning sour as he reads the messages.

Clearly, after cutting lunch short, Ward was quick to enlist Topper Thornton into his agenda. Seeing the way he wears his heart on his sleeve, he’s an easy enough target to carry out something like this. Rafe scans the messages, catching the gist of it.

Something about ‘A prenup is just insurance, you might not need it! But you should be prepared anyway cause she could leave you at any time, bro’ and ‘Have you heard of the infidelity clause? I'm not saying she would, but you know what Sarah did to me, better be safe than sorry.’ Rafe’s frustration catches your attention when he curses something about ‘this motherfucker’ under his breath.

“Everything okay, baby?”

Rafe looks up to meet your eyes peeking outside the bathroom door. He gives you a reassuring smile, but you can tell that it doesn’t reach his eyes. Coupled with the fact that his energy has been off ever since he got home today, you can’t help but wonder what’s going through his mind.

“Yeah, yeah. It’s nothing, it’s just Topper bitching to me about the wedding. He doesn’t think he’ll find a date in time.” Rafe cringes at his white lie, but figures it’s better not to stress you out when you’re about to go to sleep. And it’s not completely untrue, Topper has expressed his concerns about finding a date ever since he found out about the engagement. At this point, it’s to be determined if he’s still invited.

You chuckle at the thought. “Our wedding date is 7 months away, surely that’s enough time.”

“Speaking of our wedding.” Rafe starts, which reminds you of the pit in your stomach. “How did it go with your mom today?”

“It was good.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows inquisitively, picking up on the uncertainty in your voice. Finishing your nighttime routine, you make your way to your shared bed. Rafe gets up to meet you halfway and to make sure you’re okay. He’ll be able to tell with just a glance.

“Okay, baby. You know as long as you’re happy, I’m happy.”

Your heart flutters and you smile at him, knowing in your heart that he truly means it. “I know.” You press a kiss to his cheek, wrapping your arms around his large frame. Being in his embrace drowns out any lingering thoughts of frustration. After all, you could choose to blame it on pure exhaustion clouding your mind. “Can you believe we’re getting married in seven months?”

Rafe beams at the thought. “No. Can’t even fathom what I’ve done in my life to deserve you in the first place.”

You shove his chest softly, the tips of your ears warming up at his words. “If anything, it’s the other way around.”

“Not sure about that one, baby.”

You sigh, full of contentment while being held in the secure hold of your fiance. Yet a part of you still feels resigned from the stresses of today. “Just ask my mother.”

You can feel Rafe’s muscles tense slightly before he pulls back to look at you. “What do you mean? I thought it went well today?” The gears are turning in his head as he anticipates your response. He’s always been great at picking up on the smallest of cues, be it the change in your tone or the look in your eyes.

“It could’ve been better. I mean you know her, she always has something negative to say about everything, she’s pretty much allergic to my happiness.” You chuckle softly, trying to deflect and keep the conversation from going where it’s headed.

Rafe is having none of it. “She doesn’t think we should get married?”

“Not without her involvement, ad nauseam. Everything I suggested, she had a better idea. She’s trying to guilt trip me into letting her walk me down the aisle instead of my dad. It was just her usual schtick, trying to control me any way she can, hoping she’ll get my attention by using our wedding to play her little mind games.”

“You don’t owe anything to her, not about this. Besides, security will take care of it if there’s any problems. I’m not gonna let anything ruin this for us.”

“I know.” You reassure him, running your hand up and down his arm. “It’s just a lot of tradition this, and family legacy that. She’s sucking the joy out of everything, like usual.” You mumble that last sentence, almost hoping Rafe didn’t hear it. “Not that I’m not excited to marry you. You know what I mean, right?”

Rafe nods, flashing back to the conversation he had with his father at lunch today. It’s almost uncanny to him how you two are often on the same page about everything. It’s comforting above all else. “Yeah, I do. I know exactly what you mean. I had lunch with my dad today, got a lot of the same bullshit.”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, I shut him down. I guess our parents are just hellbent on making sure we do things the same way they did.”

“As if we want to be anything like them?”

Rafe chuckles at your quip, relieved at how you two are able to make light of the stress your families have imposed on you. “As if.”

You both stand in silence for a few moments, enjoying the calm of being in your lover’s arms. The weight of your worries feel lighter now that you’ve shared them with Rafe, unfortunately knowing that they’ve made a home with you until the big day is over and done with. Hopefully you make it, if the stress doesn’t kill you first. If there’s anyone you’d have by your side through this, it’s Rafe. You can’t imagine enduring the hardships that life has to offer with anyone else. Then again, there are worse problems to have. Just seven more months.

“Did you ever see yourself here before? Getting married?” You ask Rafe.

“Not until I found you.” He charms, satisfied with the way you snuggle even closer to him. “How about you?”

“The same. Never thought I’d find the one until I found you. If I’m honest, that’s all I’m excited for, to just be husband and wife.”

“Y/n?” You hum in response, matching his curious tone. “Do you even want a wedding?”

You freeze, noticeably tensing the same way Rafe did some time ago. You knew the answer and had a feeling that he did too. It was painful to put into words. “I want to be married to you, Rafe. You know that right?”

“I know that, silly. I wanna be married to you too, clearly.” Rafe acknowledges, brushing his thumb over the engagement ring on your finger. “But a ceremony and a reception, the tradition. Do you want that?”

You can’t help but give him a knowing look, one that says damn, you’re good. But it’s also filled with a plea for understanding. “I could live without it, but our wedding will be beautiful, Rafe. I just want to make sure that it’s ours. I hope you don’t have the wrong idea, that I’m having second thoughts or anything because I-”

Rafe cuts off your ramble by kissing you, your face cupped in his hands delicately. He’s gentle, but reassuring. He needs you to remember that he knows you and he’ll never forget.

“Run away with me?” His eyes gaze into yours and there’s an intensity of love behind them that leaves you tearing up. “Our wedding will be beautiful, because it will be ours. Just you and me. We can still have the actual event, don’t think that I don’t dream of you walking down the aisle towards me. We can still have the party and the tall ass cake that you deserve. But having that doesn’t mean we can’t have what we want.”

Rafe’s never been more sure of himself as he watches a tear slip down your cheek, his thumb wiping it away before it can fall too far. You beam at him, and it’s your turn to kiss the man that you love. The man that you’re about to run away and elope with.

“Screw tradition, let’s get married.”

—

The sun sets in the distance, giving you and your husband the perfect view of your spot on the beach, taking turns at feeding each other bites of a miniature cake, coated in a silky white frosting to commemorate your marriage. It was Rafe’s surprise to you, having ordered it custom, and practically overnight, decorated with icing rosettes and your new titles, Mr. and Mrs., written beautifully in the center.

“Our families might kill us, you know.”

Rafe’s smile doesn’t budge, he’s convinced it might just be stuck on his face forever as long as he’s spending it with you. “I guess that means we’ll have to die together then, doesn’t it?”

“I guess it does.” You whisper, closing the distance to kiss your husband. You’ll never get sick of it. Golden rays from the setting sun surround you in glowing warmth, something you’ll feel in your heart from this day forward. The light catches your diamond ring perfectly and it winks at you with a sparkle, forever a reminder of the love you and Rafe share.

He pulls back, yet never too far as he holds your face in his hands. His cerulean eyes glimmer with a hope you only see when he’s looking back at you. “You don’t regret it? Not having the fairytale wedding?”

“This is my fairytale wedding. Just you, me, and a cake.” Rafe smiles, unable to imagine that this is his real life; unable to imagine that having him and him alone, is more than enough for you. There’s not a decision he’s been more sure of in his life than asking you to marry him. “Do you regret it? Marrying me without a prenup?”

Rafe scoffs lightheartedly. “You’ve already taken my heart so you might as well have the rest. Nothing else matters to me as long as you’re mine and I’m yours. I love you, remember? ‘Til death do us part.”

He holds out his pinky and you happily reciprocate the youthful gesture by locking your fingers together. “‘Til death do us part.”

Emotion overcomes you once more, pouring your heart into a kiss that’s as true as your promise to each other. You know he intends to keep his, and so do you. Daring to love each other through the pretty and the ugly, healing each other with a simple look or touch. You wouldn’t trade it for anything. If you don’t have each other, then you have nothing at all.

💌: reblogs & comments are always appreciated! thank you for reading <3

[undercvrfan444]

Shy!reader who wears a different uniform skirt in order to get Bully!Satoru’s attention and it works a little too well. He starts flipping up the back of her skirt when he walks past her to ruffle her feathers a bit. (he might have snuck a picture of two of what you looked like under that fabric.)

Bully!Satoru who continues to write you small notes and slip them in your bag but they’ve become nastier than before. Having things written on them like

“What a shame it would be for those pretty panties to be torn open with my cock stuffing your pussy to the brim.”

or

“Don’t you know prancing around in short skirts is just an invitation for me to do whatever I want to you?”

Bully!Satoru who continues tripping you when walking in the halls. This time though, it’s because he wants to press his hard erection into the plush feeling of your ass. He’ll lean down innocently so people don’t suspect him, “been thinkin’ of that gooey cunt all day bunny.”

Bully!Satoru who comes over occasionally to “help with homework” and always starts the session off with bruising the back of your throat so you can barely speak the next day.

This way he can purr nasty nothings into your ear and all you’re able to do is listen and take it.

Bully!Satoru who steals your lunch forcing you to come crying to him. “Beg me real nicely bunny, and i’ll give your lunch back.” But when you embarrass yourself by begging him kindly he gives you the box back to find it’s been eaten leaving you hungry and disappointed.

Bully!Satoru who is called out all the time for somehow finding a way to talk about you to his friends. Suguru teases you about it too when he can!

“So you’re the pretty little thing Satoru is hung up on?”

Two dark eyes rake over the little uniform that adorned your body. “He wasn’t lying about you.” And with that Suguru walked off, simply leaving you with a dumbfounded look.

Shy!Reader who stops Satoru in the hallway the next time you see him with an aggravated expression on your face. Your arms crossed tightly over your chest as you pushed a hard finger into the man’s chest. “What did you say about me to Suguru?”

Satoru’s shocked face pulls into a coy smile, eyes narrowing so he can lean into your space. “Why? I didn’t tell him anything that wasn’t true.”

“What did you say Satoru!”

Hearing his name on your lips sends shivers down his spine, loving how upset you were. His voice dropped lower, seeing how many people were turning heads to see where the commotion sourced from.

His lips graze the thin skin of your ear. “I told him how good your pussy feels around my dick. Told him about the way your face would scrunch up when you were about to c-“

A sharp *Slap!* echoed between you. Tears pour from your eyes at the embarrassment, angry at the misogynistic things Satoru said about you. It was hard to think of all the things you’ve done with Satoru knowing he must’ve told Suguru at some point. It felt invasive.

Bully!Satoru who felt like shit after you left. He couldn’t peel his eyes away from your back as you hurried out of school, away from the staring eyes. He knew he fucked up bad when you refused to answer his texts over the next few days, leaving him either on read or delivered.

He couldn’t stand the distance any longer. Saturday finally rolled around after you missed two days of school. The two days that you were gone felt like hell to him, whispers about what might’ve happened to make you slap him caused a certain edge to stick around. Satoru made his way to your house, knocking softly on the front door hoping you would listen to what he had to say. He could hear your feet pad up to the door watching the knob turn softly.

“Satoru?”

“Hi bunny,” his words are sugary sweet. You’ve never seen such an apologetic expression on Satoru’s face and honestly it was shocking to see him so flustered.

Shy!Reader who lets the Satoru into your house, reluctant yet willing to hear what he has to say. Truthfully you miss the handsome boy more than you’d like to admit despite him embarrassing you.

Bully!Satoru who follows you up to your room, pulling you against his chest with an “ompf!” the second he heard your door close. He’d never tell anyone this, but seeing you so angry with him ate him alive. At first he thought it was cute! The little attitude you wore was adorable until it morphed into stomach-churning disappointment aimed towards Satoru.

“I’m so sorry bunny, I had no idea it would bother you so much that I said those things to Suguru about us. The last thing I want is for you to think all I want you for is some stupid shit, let me make it up to you.” Softly his fingers curl into the smooth fabric of your shirt attempting to squish you further into him.

Silence fills the room like a thick blanket. Your heart beat rapidly against Satoru’s own; thoughts running wild while his expensive cologne wafted in your senses.

“It’s okay ‘toru.” slivers off of your lips before you can think.

Bully!Satoru who spends the rest of his day with you. First going to watch whatever movie you want to, buying every snack he could possibly think of even if you didn’t eat it just because he can.

You wanted to walk in the park? done.

Go browse a book store? he bought everything you touched.

Tired of being social? Satoru walked you home as he listened to you talk passionately about the description of your new books.

Bully!Satoru who begs for forgiveness through pulling your panties to the side and pressing sloppy kisses to your pretty cunt. Respectful pecks turn into haughty thrusts of his tongue, pushing your sticky walls apart. His moans tickle your thighs fervently while you squeeze his shoulders attempting to ease the building pressure in your lower belly. Satoru was a man after all, and he knew the cherry on top to his apology would be eating your pussy until slick dripped down his face.

Shy!Reader whose head was so fuzzy from the multiple orgasms, you let Satoru guide you into bed as the sun set. Once he’d finally cleaned up there was no stopping the rain of smooth kisses on your face. “I love you, bunny.”

“I love you to ‘toru.”

[k0yaz]

Hiii, can You write Moder!mizu g!p and female reader with Breeding Kink ? (Obviously safe)

netflix and chill.

Pairings: mizu x fem!reader

CW: nsfw, female reader, afab reader, g!p, modern au, breeding, marking, digging ur nails idfk, begging, mizu has a diq obviously read the request, if you don’t like this don’t interact cause I don’t headcanon this either but others do so leave me alone, netflix and chill yippee, penetration yay :3, raw sesbian lex because protection is for losers amirite (this is a joke pls use protection irl guys), mention of pregnancy but it’s up to u if reader is pregnant or not, shy mizu shy mizu shy mizu, she’s lowkey pathetic while fucking reader but it’s cute so who gaf, grinding lol, why are all my nsfw mizu works so freaky god, I always get embarrassed writing them, not proofread.

A/N: ouuuu my goodness you know what hell yeah let’s repopulate Japan with more blue eyed kids also no need to mention safe! I will automatically make nsfw fics safe unless the request says otherwise, and even then it’s heavily limited I may not hc this but yay let’s go🕯️

A gentle illuminating glow of the glossed flatscreen panned along the shadows of your face in the muted wake of darkness circling the couch. The only light present radiated from the warmth of the TV saturating yours and Mizu’s features as your cheek nudged into her shoulder, fabric nuzzling against your skin as her arm remained curled along your torso. You often found yourself huddled up to your girlfriend’s side quite late at night, eyes fixated on the familiar dynamic animation of the Netflix logo booming forward to dissolve into the familiar account menu.

Quiet hums of the dialogue ensued from the running show, screen flickering an array of flashes that reflected various changes of color lighting up your body. However, the dialogue only registered as a bellowing white noise that you drowned out from your view fixating on a certain someone, eyes transfixed upon her sharp features with adoration, so much so you couldn’t tear your eyes away.

Mizu kept her eyes locked onto the blaring screen before her, arm fitted snugly around the fat of your hips as she relished in the feeling of your weight pressed to her side. Despite staring so intently, you couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow as your gaze flitted up to Mizu’s stern expression. Strangely enough, she was far too focused on the show she was initially uninterested in, the aversion to any sort of attention likely beholding less innocent intentions behind the stoic front she kept before you in this moment.

“…pretty fucking boring right now isn’t it?” You interjected, cutting past the awkward silence fostered between you two.

She only delivered a silent nod as her mind swirled with an odd compulsion, thumb circling along the edge of your hip as the cool steel of her rings briefly brushed up below your shirt to elicit a small shiver from you.

Despite knowing that she wasn’t quite upfront with her feelings, tending to be more of the reserved type when it came to anything nagging at the back of her head like a parasite, Mizu tended to atleast hint at, or make obvious what exactly was bothering her. A tinge of worry clouded the widening pupils of your eyes taking in her figure lounged across the sofa, hand continuing to brush up along your body casually as the ongoing images of the show flashing by ran through one ear and out the other.

Storms of quiet, internal fury thrashed about in the deep pool of cerulean flashing across Mizu’s eyes as she firmly lowered her sights from you, the fabric of her black sweatpants rubbing up against itself as her thighs clasped together as far as they could go. Yet, the diffusing warmth of your body secure against hers continued to rack her head with the fury of unbecoming thoughts that ran rampant in her head just about now.

Fuck…you always snuggled up against her like this while watching Netflix, or anything..so why all of a sudden does it feel so unbearably hot? Especially in the frosted grasp of winter, and the lack of heaters in your dorm.

Everything around the two of you was consumed by a deathly silence eating at the pits of darkness swallowing up your surroundings apart from the TV itself, even the entrance to the kitchen appearing as a gateway to hell. Nuzzling closer to Mizu, your gaze periodically flickered over to her in the midst of each agonizingly long moment of dialogue, perturbed by your girlfriend’s unusual behavior today. Had you done something wrong? Was she uncomfortable..?

Clearing your throat, you managed out a barely audible reply, nearly close enough to a whisper as your fingers sank into the plush armrest of the couch to help yourself up. “I’m gonna go grab some more popcorn..okay?”

You wriggled out of Mizu’s grasp for a moment, finally earning a reaction from her as her head snapped up in your direction, eyes finally wide with a bit more life rather than mindlessly staring at the screen like a corpse. Rising to your feet, you trudged over to the shrouded abyss of a kitchen, sluggishly running your hand along the cool walls to navigate the lights.

The sharp brightness flooded into your eyes as you squinted upon recoiling, biting back a mewl of irritation at the sudden intrusion poking at your eyeballs. You weakly treaded through the tiled floors, the low cut of your pajamas pooling against the tiles as you rummaged through the pantry in search of a popcorn bag while longing to head back to the comfort of your dimly illuminated spot hemmed in Mizu’s grasp.

As you made your way back to the couch, Mizu seemed far more tense than she actually was, your expression wrinkling at the sight of her visible discomfort. Falling back into the grasp of the cushions swallowing you whole, you carefully allowed your hand to gravitate toward her, placing it onto bony ridges of her shoulder. She jerked forward in response, glancing over at you with an expression of internal panic scribbled all over. Seriously, what the fuck was going on with her?

“Mizu, what’s going on with you today? You’ve been all jumpy and stuff, it’s getting worrying.”

“Don’t..worry about it. I’m just not feeling well.” She dismissed, only earning a disapproving scoff from you.

“Bullshit. You never act like this. When you’re sick or something it takes me a while to notice.”

You craned over, hands planting onto the oppsite end of the couch past her thigh as you reached over to graze the bridge of your nose briefly below Mizu’s chin. Back slightly arched down, you shifted a hand over to rest on the opposite end of her waist, staring up to her face with a puzzled look. Her face was strangely a deeper shade of red, the warmth from her body practically burning your skin as you twisted your torso over to look straight up at her in the awkward position. Perhaps she really was sick if her face was this flushed?

“I- maybe I’m more sick than usual-“

Her words were hoarsely hitched out in a near gasp at the sensation of your proximity brushing up against her, your hand dangerously drifting closer to her thighs as she tried to clasp them together in a futile attempt, breath catching in her throat at your fingertips dancing along the woven fabric of her sweatpants stuck to her thigh.

“Oh come on, you’ve never been this cautious before! Just tell me what’s got you so-!”

As soon as those words left your lips, your fingers idly traced over the solid tent embedded at the center of her pants, cutting your words off abruptly as you saw Mizu’s eyes squeeze shut at the fleeting shock of her body twitching up.

oh…oh.

Your expression almost fell agape at the fact that you didn’t realize her hard-on sooner, head fogged with embarrassment as the blush seeping across your face mirrored hers while you bashfully looked away. You swallowed back the lump residing in your throat as your eyes averted back to the now prominent erection poking through the fabric between her thighs, Mizu’s expression beholding a hint of embarrassment, keeping her eyes averted.

Gods..she could’ve just said she wanted to knock you up and you would’ve complied. Seriously, this was about to be a Netflix and chill session.

“Sorry..” Mizu croaked out, wanting to bury herself in a hole and never come out from the sheer humiliation she felt from her girlfriend finding out that she was absolutely bricked. To be frank, she couldn’t exactly choke out any more words despite her embarrassment, considering the need to bury herself into the warmth of your cunt overpowered any other sense in this moment as her cock ached in the confines of her clothing.

Upon regaining your composure, you sighed out a small chuckle as your finger slipped along the waistband of her pants, her body curling up slightly at the smallest touch of your skin along hers. Of course, your hand retreated from her pants as your thumb ran along her bottom lip, her eyes boring into yours as they dusted over in a heightened intensity of need—her gaze alone screaming out that she needed your hands against her skin once more. A soft exhale made its way through your nose, lips pursed as you surveyed her taut muscles rolled back instinctively.

“Can I?”

She finally breathed out, her hips rolling up in small, almost unnoticeable motions if your hand wasn’t situated atop the tent in her pants as she desperately sought more friction from your touch. You let a smile stretch your lips as your legs mounted over to straddle her thighs comfortably, finding your pussy resting along her shaft throbbing between your legs.

—

“W-Wait..Mizu slow down..”

Your pleas were gagged by the crescendo of moans spilling from your feverish lips as she drove herself into you, trails of angry red marks blooming in a wake of fresh hickeys along the skin of your collarbone, up to your throat. Hands scrambling below you, you desperately rummaged along the empty cushions of the the couch your back was flush against to find some semblance of balance to ground yourself, only being able to weakly grip the edges before they slid off.

The engulfing heat of your cunt swallowed Mizu whole, velvety walls clenched around her flesh as the veins of her cock nudged up along the blanking heat tightening around her. A series of low whimpers wrenched out of her throat with each thrust burying herself into you, hiccuping back the shallow breaths accumulating in her chest at each of your lewd responses to her cock lodged inside you.

She was fucking big, no doubt. You couldn’t even bite back the strangled moan that the other dorms would definitely hear when Mizu first shoved herself into you, your cunt stretching to accommodate her girth protruding your hole as she sank deeper into you. Body jerking upward with each thrust, you could only cry out an incoherent string of moans as Mizu continued to ram into you, seeking more of your cunt’s warmth as the tip of her cock brushed along your womb.

Mizu continued to fuck you ruthlessly into the couch, your hands flying up grasp at her back to ground yourself as your nails dug crescents into her flesh, mouth hung open from the euphoric sensations pulsing through you at the delicious stretch of her cock massaging that one spot that made you cry out. Her pathetically desperate movements were far too adorable to you, the way she tried so hard held back those whimpers you loved oh so much, digging her cock to reach deeper into you as her head bowed down beside your chest, hair spilling over her shoulders and freely flowing down her back.

It was all just perfect. The way your insides practically molded to accommodate her, feeling the supposed illusion of her own stomach swelling with her deepening thrusts, her dick twitching within you with each fervent movement of her hips hilting forward—it’s as if you were the lock to her key. The way she kept trying to find a spot deeper that someone of her length could easily reach in a desperate attempt to nestle herself within your warmth forever. Hell, you imagined what it would feel like if she just got you pregnant at this point.

And as if she read your mind, linking you two intellectually in the raw instinct and desire consuming you two in this moment as she continued to sheathe herself into you, your moans harboring a few aroused gasps at the sight of her cock coated in your glistening slick. Mizu finally gasped out as well, her words slurred together and deeply craving the safety of your cunt grasping her tightly.

“Please..please please please, fuck- let me put a baby in you, (Name)..” she sobbed out, fighting back the urge to throw her head back in bliss as her words came out desperately. “Let me cum inside…I’ll take good care of you, and our kid..just-“

She was cut off by the tide of pleasure flooding her body, rubbing the ridge of her leaking tip along your g-spot like a puppy in heat as she mustered up every ounce of strength she had to continue fucking you. Damn it. She seriously wanted plant a kid inside you didn’t she? The way her dick practically begged your cunt to foster her inside your slick heat so she could leave herself inside you, wanting to spill inside you and have a baby of your own that mirrored the two of you.

She seriously was making it tempting wasn’t she?

Mizu lowered herself onto you weakly, pressing herself up against you, her skin flush to your own as her hips persisted in now gentle thrusts rolling within you to jerk up against your abdomen at an angle. Through your pleasured haze, you only responded with a nod, gaping your jaw to try and speak through the flurry of whines and cries assaulting your throat in sync with Mizu’s own.

“P-Please..yes. God- just fill me up already you- mmph..”

Mizu was near ecstatic at your words, her hand snaking behind your head as her moans persisted. The unfelt taste of what she thought your slick would feel like seeped into her mouth within the illusions of her fucked out mind, eyes rolling back weakly as she whimpered out a small series of ‘thank yous’ alongside your name as if it was a mantra on her lips, cock twitching against the spongy interior of your cunt.

Her hips swiftly met yours in one final motion, a hiss sizzling from her grit teeth as she pushed herself against you as if she had been deprived of your touch for an eternity, tits shoved up against yours, silently pleading to never let go. A long, guttural moan was ripped out of you as her hot cum spilled into you, decorating your insides a salty white. You watched, amused as Mizu tried to shove back in any drop that dared to leak out of your pussy, trying to keep her fluids inside you to swallow every ounce of her cum.

Mizu merely collapsed on top of you as she withdrew herself from your cunt, cheek nuzzling against your left breast as you let out a breathless laugh. As monstrous as she was while fucking you, she was just a woman who was satiated of her need and adoration she had to express, her arms locked around your body as her eyes nearly fell shut. Huh. The bright blue in her irises seemed to also bask in the afterglow of sex along with her body.

“Are you mad I probably knocked you up?” She hummed, her hand wrenching out from the weight of your back to lace her fingers with yours. You hummed in response, bringing your limp hand near your chest.

“Not at all.”

“Good…I just..kind of want a family with you someday..genuinely. Just, to have a peaceful life that’s all.”

“You’re cute when you’re not being all stoic and mysterious you know.” You replied with a gentle laugh.

“Well get used to it. If we’re gonna be parents sometime then..”

she trailed off, her head lulling against your chest as she dozed off, her energy fully spent from the aftermath of her intense orgasm as well as yours.

—

“Ugh- what the-?”

The vibrations of Mizu’s phone buzzing violently against the glass coffee table not too far from the couch jittered along the glass, her eyes catching sight of the sliding accept button for the incoming call as well as the barrage of notifications front the friend group chat with you, Mizu, Akemi, Ringo, and Taigen in it. She tiredly climbed off of you, clutching the blanket pooled at the foot of the couch and carefully tucking it over you before making her way to the phone. Of course, none other than Taigen calling her.

Her mood was already killed when she saw that she had to get off cuddling her girlfriend to lift a call, and what could Taigen possibly want that wasn’t chewing her ear off for a sparring match at kenjutsu practice? Of course, she didn’t notice you groggily blinking your eyes open as you sat up, muscles sore and aching from your previous activities.

“What?” Mizu demanded, putting the phone on speaker as an unamused expression remained plastered to her face.

“Why haven’t either of you been answering our texts in the groupchat? We wanted to make plans to meet up at a sushi restaurant on Saturday.” Taigen huffed, his voice coming through as to inquire what could possibly keep you two from answering.

After a moment of silence his voice cracked into the speaker again, sneering out to earn a reaction of sorts to get an answer. “What? Were you two fucking or something? Is that why you were away from your phones?” He asked, his tone wasn’t exactly condescending or mocking, just a little annoyed.

Mizu only scoffed, responding back in a hoarse voice. “Good job, you’re not a total moron. She’s pregnant now.”

A shocking silence gripped the atmosphere, Taigen’s shocked expression already palpable through the confines of the audio call screen—before he finally spoke up, the groupchat exploding with messages since the other two were probably with him.

“…Mizu what the actual fu-“

A/N: HELLO??? I ACTUALLY GOT LOWKEY EMBARASSED WRITING THIS IM FRYING. WAY MORE THAN MY OTHER MIZU FICS CAUSE THIS ONE EAS LIKE FREAKY FREAKY YK

also sorry if it’s kinda subpar cause I just got back from midterms haven’t written in a while and my brain is fried in hot oil- anyway I’m gonna consume 30 gallons of holy water after this I love the freakiness but holy shit. ALSO HEY WHY IS THE MIZU X READER TAG DYING OUT KEEP IT ALIVE. It’s ok mihi is here to save yall with another mizu fic

Also it’s so funny bc I lowkey imagine myself as reader when writing the mizu fics..and I know I would be snapped in half by the way she’s handling reader here because I’m like fucking 5 foot 1 help

Also I cannot crop the fuckass banner and make it look good help me so it’s big for now you get the luxury of square image banner and not thin rectangle AHHHHHHH

mizuuuuu ahahahahdhdhd

[bitchface24-7]

Salutations! I’m new to tumblr and I don’t know how this generally works, but the reason I even started to be here more was after Arcane’s ending

I downloaded the app moment I started reading your writing and other JAYVIK fanfic writers!! I admire your work and believe you have a lovely writing! I enjoy reading your works every time!

I’m embarrassed but I wanted to request a Jayvik x Reader with celebrating the reader’s birthday in some way, doesn’t matter how if it’s hurt to comfort or nsfw or anything (my birthday is today that’s why I ask, it’s bittersweet currently due to comments I’ve received n such) it’s all up to you! I’d be happy if you’d even read this! Thank you so much for your time and have a wonderful day!

YOUR SPECIAL DAY - JAYVIK X READER

synopsis: it's your birthday today! Your boys spoil you to the best of their abilities, breakfast in bed, lounging all day, they even baked you a cake the previous night while you slept! The cake is plain, but it's the tastiest cake you've ever had.

warnings: fluffier than a cloud, pre-established relationships, spoiling, physical affection, a birthday everyone deserves, Grammarly as my beta

genre: m/m/f or m/m/m

p.s. Awe I'm sorry your birthday today is bittersweet due to some people who are buttheads. Happy Birthday!! Ignore them! I hope this fluffy little fic brings you some joy on your special day, and to anyone else who needs a pick me up on their special days too! Xoxo love ya (thanks for the compliments also) ❤️

The sounds of pots and pans clanging together wake you up. You grumble, rubbing your face and running a hand over your head, moving your hair out of your face. You look over to the side and catch your alarm clock, it’s 12:00pm.

You’ve slept in, like, by a lot.

You damn near bolt out of bed until Jayce and Viktor casually stroll into the bedroom, your favourite breakfast on a tray for you to eat in bed.

“What’s all this?” You ask, your voice rough due to sleep; but there’s a light smile on your face. Viktor and Jayce look to one another before bursting out into laughter. You pout at them.

“It’s your birthday today. Did you honestly forget?”

You pause for a second. Your schedule has been so hectic lately, that you felt like you could barely breathe. Your eyes shift to the side as you innocently state, “No?” in a questioning tone, dragging out the vowel as your voice raises in pitch.

Jayce chuckles and places the tray over your lap, the small legs keeping it upright. He kisses your cheek and Viktor puts your favourite drink onto the tray. He kisses your forehead.

Damn. This is a pretty good way to wake up.

“Relax. Eat. Today is a day of lounging. Watching movies, going out to do some activities. Don't even attempt to think about work, that'll make me quite displeased.” Viktor states, his accent rolling across the words smoothly and elegantly. You quirk an eyebrow at him, “As if you're not constantly thinking about work, you hypocrite.”

“Touche.”

And with that, you eat your breakfast and your two boys keep you entertained.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Your birthday couldn't have gone any better. You did all your favourite activities, ate all your favourite food, and spent the day with your two favourite people.

It’s late into the evening by the time you all get home, a few movies are on your mind for you all to watch before heading to bed.

That is until you enter your home and see your boys rush to the kitchen. You just huff a laugh and take your shoes off, putting some slippers on you follow them to their mad dash of an escape.

What you see melts your heart.

It’s a cake. It's simple, with no wording or fancy icing techniques. It's clearly homemade and has a variety of different coloured candles.

It’s perfect.

Jayce and Viktor look sheepish, almost a little embarrassed. You shut that down real quick.

“You guys made me a cake? When?” You ask, your tone one of awe and appreciation. Jayce's shoulders slowly lower and Viktor lightly smiles. He hits Jayce's arm lightly and Jayce grunts in pain.

“I told you they'd like it!”

“Okay okay, you're right! I thought they'd like a nicer cake, that's all.”

“The sentiment means more than a pretty cake.”

You giggle as they bicker, and you wave your hands around a bit to catch their attention again, “Hello? First off, Viktor’s right. Second off, when did you make this? I would've seen you two baking in the kitchen.”

Viktor humphs in triumph and Jayce looks at the two of you fondly, “We made it last night while you slept.”

“You were so exhausted that you slept right through it! Believe me, we made quite a bit of noise. Jayce then had the brilliant idea of you getting breakfast in bed so you wouldn't see the cake in the fridge.”

“Then Viktor had the great idea to take you out, so that way we’d keep the cake a surprise. We'd do activities and eat at our favourite restaurant as well.”

You feel like crying. They're so sweet. So thoughtful. You don't know how you got so lucky.

You rub your nose discreetly as they light the candles, and start to sing happy birthday. Usually you find this part really awkward. You're just kind of there as people sing to you.

But right now, your heart is so full of love you don't even notice. When they're done, you can't help but beam a grin at them and lightly bend over to get closer to the cake. You close your eyes, make your wish, and blow out the candles.

When you open your eyes, all the candles are smoking. You got them all in one shot.

Viktor smiles and takes the candles out as Jayce prepares to cut the cake. You get the first slice, you wait a moment so your boys have their slice as well before taking a big cut with your fork and putting it in your mouth.

It's the most delicious cake you've ever had.

Honestly, what did you do to deserve them? You rant and rave over their cake as they blush and smile and your compliments, casually strolling to the couch where you three debate what movie to watch.

This day couldn't have gone any better.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! Hope you all have had a good day, and that this little fluffy fic makes every ones birthday just a bit sweeter.

[covenofagatha]

practice makes perfect was so fucking hot. i woke up, checked my notifications, started playing with my tits, finished it, and then had to reply messages like my underwear wasn't soaked. curse you and your incredible writing for the millionth time smh 🙄

regardless, that experience + the fic + my latest brainworm + the puppy ideas = evolved tiny brain worm for your reward. consider:

(degradation, petplay, collar mention, spit, we love titties, body fluid mixing (its precum and saliva. no piss! i respect miss covenofagatha 🙏), cum on face lol)

titjob with desperate! puppy! g!p reader.

reader who's whining, pawing at agatha needily, embarrassed at how hard you've gotten just by looking at her. agatha mocks you, talking about how you're "more pathetic than a common whore" and "how could you ever handle yourself without me, pup?"

she tugs at your collar, cooing at you condescendingly, "is it all sticky down there, my sweet girl?" or "awwww, poor baby, can't control yourself, can you?" while she guides you to her chest. your breast fixation is a little unhealthy and you latch on needily, sucking and kneading, but she grips a handful of hair and tugs you off, drool collecting at your mouth.

"god, you're so fucking dirty," she groans, loving how depraved you look. with her permission, you slot your dick neatly between her tits, and her firm hands on your hips control your pace. "can't do it without me, can you, pup?" and you watch as she spits down, her saliva mixing with your residual ones in the space between her breasts, cause you to jerk upwards at the molten heat that sears in you.

"need you, please, please-" you jumble up your words as she digs her hands into your ass, jolting you through the cavity, spurring you on as your rapidly building precum mixes with her and your spit, dick gliding back and forth.

you thrust, and god, you don't even need to squeeze her tits together, the space just perfect for your cock, and the thought that she was made for you makes you throb. "filthy little dog," agatha snarls, and you whimper in response, because god, it's so fucking hot to be reduced to her desperate little pup, rutting on her chest, her brand littered across your back, her collar clasped tightly around your neck.

she owns you, and that, combined with the feeling of her soft, supple tits against your hard, veiny cock and the knowledge that your fluids are mixing with hers, is what sends you over the edge. "gonna- ngh- please-" is what she hears before a sheen of white covers her face, and the look of her drenched in your cum sends your sensitive dick a surge of desire, and you meekly shoot out another load.

"pathetic," she scoffs, and you grow embarrassingly hard at the way her eyes narrow, her brows furrowing in mock frustration, and when she yanks you by your collar, you lap up your cum off her face obediently, while she mutters about what a dirty little puppy you are.

-

small one this time because I've just barely woken up, but i had to get this out or i would be distracted all day. wonderful job with mean! agatha, i loved the degradation and thought you would like a bit more of it. good luck for your exam that i assume is coming up again in a day or two 💜

-lots of love, worm anon :)

So sorry about that predicament (except not at all 🤭) and I am so glad you liked (most of the fics I have written over the past few days have been inspired by your brainworm that has infected me too so I love knowing that you like them)

Your rewards are so good 🫠 I really just need to compile them into a few fics because fuck I can’t stop thinking about the ideas you have (I always appreciate/like more)

Lots of love right back to you for all your delicious thoughts 💜

[iamquiantrelle]

SO INTO YOU (part 2) ───── iamquaintrelle

# pairings: aurelien tchouameni x black reader (✨💕)

# tags: @sucredreamer @snowseasonmademe @jessnotwiththemess @rougereds @judectrl @mufasathatniggatho @irishmanwhore @lettersofgold @ayeshami @greyishbach @haartemis @goldenngt @solidbriii @sailurmewn @bbgkoo @mauvecherie-writes @leighjadeclimbedmtkilimanjaro

# summary: you’re a multiple grammy winning artist with a record breaking single based on an embarrassing crush on a footballer & when that single demands visuals who else do you ask to be your video vixen besides said footballer crush? but is he also willing to blow your back out too? ♡ masterlist

The next few days passed in a blur — Madrid, the match, the rush of it all. Of course, someone caught you at the match — there was no way that wasn’t happening. You were you, after all, a Grammy-winning artist sitting in VIP seats at the Bernabéu, very much in the camera’s line of sight. The picture had already made its rounds on social media: you, leaning forward with your elbows on your knees, watching the game with full concentration. Another showed you mid-cheer after Aurélien’s assist, your excitement unmistakable.

The comments on The Shade Room were a mess.

"Why is [Your Name] at the Bernabéu??" "She watching soccer now? 👀" "Ain’t no way she just ‘watching’ — look at that smile." "She’s a Madridista now? Elite taste." "I know she was there for Tchouaméni. Be serious."

You scrolled through the discourse with a grin, but the real entertainment was happening on Tumblr. Unlike the rest of the internet, your little tchouamenithoughts page was an anonymous safe haven, a place where you could be as shamelessly down bad as you wanted. And the girlies were going through it.

moot1: she’s cute. good for him i guess moot2: the way he’s been playing lately... yeah he’s in love moot3: it’s giving soft launch. moot4: imagine being the muse for that one song she wrote... bc I KNOW it’s about him.

You had to stifle a laugh reading that one. It was already too weird, and you knew — God forbid — if Aurélien ever found out about this little corner of the internet, you’d have to disappear into the abyss.

You then reblogged a gifset of Aurélien’s highlights from the match, tagged "captain of my heart" before clicking into the inbox.

Anonymous asked: "Bro tell me you saw [Your Name] at the match? She was going feral for our man Tchouaméni just like us. Respect."

You snorted and reblogged it with a simple: "As she should."

Your phone buzzed in your hand, pulling you away from the mess you’d been consuming like your own personal reality show.

Auré: Did you make it home safe?

You smiled, a warmth blooming in your chest.

You: I did. Tired though.

Auré: You should rest. You’ll need your energy for when I see you again.

You bit your lip, shaking your head at the audacity.

You: Oh? And when’s that?

Auré: Soon. I told you, I’m doing the chasing now.

Your stomach flipped. God help you.

You locked your phone and sighed, leaning back against your pillows, your laptop still open to the mess of your moots spiraling in real-time. Yeah, this Tumblr was going to have to go soon.

But for now? You had a little more time to kiki.

***************************************************

Aurélien meant it when he said he wanted to do the rest and chase you.

The next morning, a delivery arrived at your apartment in LA. A massive bouquet — white and blush pink roses, accented with baby’s breath. It smelled incredible, and the little card tucked inside made your stomach flip.

"Since I didn’t get to be the first one in your DMs, let me be the first to send you flowers. –AT"

You bit your lip, rereading the message at least three times before setting the card down. The man was serious.

And the thing was — he wasn’t doing too much. You’d been courted before, had men try to win you over with grand gestures that felt more about them than you. But this? This was just Aurélien being him. Smooth, intentional. Never overstepping, just reminding you that he was right there.

His texts came consistently, never letting a day pass without checking in. Some were sweet. Some were very much not sweet.

Auré: Did you sleep well?

You: Mhm. You?

Auré: Not really. Kept thinking about how you looked in my bed.

Whew.

Other times, he was just ridiculous.

Auré: Hypothetically, if someone wanted to know your coffee order…

You: Hypothetically, they should just ask.

Auré: I am asking. But I wanted to see if you'd be difficult first.

You: Vanilla oat milk latte, extra shot. Now tell me why you’re asking like you’re sending a gift card.

Auré: I might be.

You: Aurélien.

And sure enough, an hour later, an email from Starbucks: [Your Name], you’ve received a gift from Aurélien Tchouaméni.

You couldn’t even be mad.

Then came the FaceTimes. Usually at night, when he knew you were home. It started casual — just him, shirtless (because of course), leaning back against his headboard while you sat on your couch, notebook open, laptop playing beats softly in the background.

"What are you working on?" he asked one night, eyes flicking to your scribbled lyrics.

"Music."

"No shit," he teased, smirking. "But what kind?"

You tapped your pen against your notebook. "Just some ideas."

His brows lifted. "For me?"

You snorted. "No. Not everything is about you."

"Shame." He stretched, flexing way too much for someone who was supposedly relaxing. "But you’ll write another one about me eventually."

"You think?"

"I know."

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, focusing back on your lyrics. Until—

"You work too much," he murmured.

You glanced up. "And you run too much. What’s your point?"

His smirk deepened. "That I’m gonna fix that. When are you coming back to Madrid?"

You blinked. “Oh, you’re just assuming I’m coming?”

"Yeah." He looked so sure, so smug, you wanted to reach through the screen and wipe that smirk off his face.

"I have work."

"I have work too,” he countered easily. "But I make time for what I want."

That shut you up for a second. You clicked your tongue. "That’s a cute line."

He grinned. "It’s not a line, bébé. It’s a fact."

And then, as if that wasn’t enough, the next morning, another email delivery. This time? A plane ticket. First class, LAX to Madrid, one week from now.

No note. Just that.

And the man had the audacity to text: See you soon.

******************************************************

You told yourself you weren’t really considering it.

You weren’t impulsive like this. You had rules. Checklists. Boundaries.

But when Carmen barely batted an eye after you double-checked your schedule and when your best friend damn near screamed in your ear after you mentioned Madrid again?

"Are you insane? You just got back!"

You winced, pulling the phone away from your ear. "First of all, lower your voice—"

"No! Because this man has already had you in a chokehold, and now you’re just willingly running back?"

You sighed, switching the phone to your other ear. "It’s not like that.”

"What’s it like then?"

Silence.

Exactly.

Because what were you really gonna say? That you were working backwards? That the whole 'I have standards thing' was already a joke because you’d skipped about fifteen steps when you slept with him and now you were just here like some lovestruck fool?

Because you were.

"Yeah," your best friend scoffed when you stayed quiet. "That’s what I thought."

Still, none of that stopped you from breezing through TSA a few days later, sunglasses on, hoodie pulled low, boarding a first-class flight back to Madrid. Because somehow, in less than two weeks, you had gone from watching him on your screen to meeting him in person for your video shoot, and now you were sipping champagne, heading straight back to him.

You were supposed to be working — laptop open, beats playing, lyrics scattered across your notebook — but all you could do was stare at your phone, rereading his last message.

Auré: See you soon, bébé.

A slow exhale left your lips.

You weren’t even there yet, and he already had you spiraling.

The moment you exited arrivals, he was waiting.

Leaning up against his car, hands in his pockets, looking stupidly good in a fitted tee, Rhude shorts that made everything look right, snapback cap, and another Cuban link around his neck. His eyes locked on you like he’d been counting the seconds.

Your stomach flipped.

This man…

"You’re early," you said, trying to keep your voice even.

He smirked. "So are you."

Fair.

"C’mere."

You barely had time to react before his arms were around you, pulling you into him. His scent wrapped around you — warm, familiar, distracting — and suddenly, everything about this felt like a terrible idea.

If he was this good just holding you, how the hell were you supposed to handle anything else? Especially at the rate he was going?

"You miss me?" he murmured, lips at your ear.

You pulled back, schooling your face. "Did you?"

No hesitation. "Yeah."

Your heart betrayed you, but you kept your expression neutral.

"Hmm," you teased. "Was it the inside jokes? The deep conversations?"

He chuckled, dark and knowing. "The way you sound when I—"

"Aurélien."

His grin widened as he stepped back, opening the passenger door. "Get in, bébé."

And just like that, you were gone all over again.

The drive to his place was quiet.

Not the awkward kind — never that with him.

It was the kind of silence that buzzed, thick with anticipation. The kind where every glance, every shift in your seat, said more than words could. Aurélien drove one-handed, his other hand resting on your thigh like it belonged there, fingers tracing slow, lazy circles against your skin.

Like he was reminding you exactly why you were here.

The low hum of Afrobeats filled the car, blending with the occasional ping of a text on his phone. You ignored it, focusing instead on the way his fingers tightened slightly when you moved, the barely-there smirk on his lips.

"You good?" His voice was smooth, teasing.

You exhaled. "Fine."

A low chuckle. "Lying already?"

You shot him a look, but it was useless. He knew. He always knew.

By the time you reached his house, you were already on edge.

And then there was Ocho.

The massive Belgian Malinois greeted you at the door with an excited bark, nearly knocking you over in his eagerness.

"Damn, you remember me?" You laughed, scratching behind his ears as he licked at your wrist.

Aurélien chuckled behind you, setting your bag down near the stairs. "He doesn’t forget people he likes."

You glanced up, finding him watching you with something unreadable in his gaze.

The air between you shifted.

You swallowed, turning away to take in the space — the same high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows, the same sleek yet lived-in warmth from the last time you were here. But this time, there was something different.

This time, you knew what it felt like to be pressed against that couch, to have his mouth on your skin, to hear your own voice echoing against these walls.

And, of course, there were the flowers.

You huffed a laugh, finally spotting the massive bouquet of white lilies and soft pink roses in a crystal vase on the marble countertop.

"You really do this, huh?" you murmured, fingers ghosting over the petals of the bouquet before turning to face him.

Aurélien leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you with that slow, knowing smirk that made your stomach tighten. "Do what?"

"This whole…" You gestured vaguely at the flowers, the way he had you standing in his kitchen, feeling like you’d stepped into something inevitable. "Seduction thing."

"I told you," he said, pushing off the counter to come to you, voice low as his fingers found your waist. "I wanted the chase."

Your breath caught as his chain moved gently against his collarbone.

"And now that I have you here?" His lips hovered over yours, his hands already moving, already claiming. "I’m not letting up."

Your breath hitched as his hand splayed against your lower back, pulling you flush against him. You were already in too deep, already fighting a losing battle against the warmth curling in your stomach, against the way he smelled — clean, like cedarwood and something distinctly him.

"Aurélien—"

He kissed you before you could finish, tilting your chin up, his lips moved against yours like he had all the time in the world, like he was savoring you, mapping you out. The hand at your waist gripped tighter, and he made a sound in the back of his throat when your fingers found the nape of his neck, threading into the soft curls there.

You felt him smile against your mouth.

"What?" you breathed.

He pulled back just enough to search your face, his thumb brushing over your cheek. "You taste smug," he muttered.

You arched a brow. "And what does smug taste like?"

His lips twitched. "Like someone who knew she was coming back to me."

Your stomach flipped.

You weren’t going to entertain that — not right now, not when his voice was doing that and his hands were still tracing over your body like he was committing every inch of you to memory.

So you deflected. "Ocho knew too, apparently."

Aurélien huffed a quiet laugh. "Ocho is a good judge of character."

You snorted, shaking your head, but the moment you tried to step back, his grip on your waist tightened.

"You’re not going anywhere, bébé," he murmured.

You swallowed hard.

Because he wasn’t just talking about right now.

And he knew you knew it.

The moment stretched between you, heavy with promise. His thumb was still tracing patterns on your skin, each touch deliberate, like he was writing his intentions into your flesh. The kitchen's warm lighting caught the angles of his face just right, making his dark skin glow golden, and that fade you'd written countless posts about was perfect for running your fingers through.

"You're thinking too loud," he murmured, ducking his head to press his lips to your neck. His chain brushed cold against you, making you shiver.

"Hard not to," you managed, trying to keep your voice steady as his teeth grazed that spot below your ear. "When you're being all…" you gestured vaguely at him, at this whole situation.

He huffed a laugh against your skin. "All what?"

"You know what."

"Mm," his hands slid lower, grip tightening just enough to make your breath catch. "Tell me anyway."

The command in his voice - that same tone he used directing the midfield - had your knees weak. But two could play this game.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, watching them darken as your fingers traced the chain around his neck. "All confident," you said softly.

His responding smile was dangerous. "Didn't you write a whole song about it?"

"That's not—"

"About how I control the game?" His lips brushed your ear, voice dropping lower. "About how I read the field?"

Your heart was absolutely betraying you, hammering against your ribs like it was trying to escape.

"You really memorized those lyrics, huh?" you tried to tease, but your voice came out breathier than intended.

He pulled back to look at you properly, and the intensity in his gaze had you forgetting how to breathe. The same focus you'd watched him apply to matches, to training, to everything he did - all of it was directed at you now.

"I memorized everything about you," he said simply, like he wasn't completely ruining your ability to think straight. "The way you bite your lip when you're nervous. How your eyes follow me during matches."

Ocho's tags jingled as he trotted past, heading for his bed in the corner, completely unbothered by the way his owner was systematically dismantling your composure.

"You're impossible," you muttered, even as your hands traveled up his arms, feeling the muscles shift under your touch.

"You like impossible," he countered, and before you could argue, his mouth was on yours again, more urgent this time. Less controlled. Like maybe you weren't the only one affected here.

Your back hit the counter, and his hands gripped your hips to lift you onto it. The marble was cold through your clothes but he was burning hot, all solid muscle and sure touches as he stepped between your legs.

"Tell me to stop," he murmured against your lips, but his hands were already sliding under your shirt, already knew your answer.

You tangled your fingers in his chain instead, using it to pull him closer. "No."

His answering laugh was all satisfaction, all victory. "Good girl."

*******************************************************

You woke up to Madrid sunlight filtering through his expensive blackout curtains that clearly weren't doing their job. His bed was still unfairly comfortable, sheets soft against your skin, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest under your cheek was threatening to lull you back to sleep.

Jetlag had hit you hard after... activities, leading to what was supposed to be a quick power nap but wasn’t. That kitchen counter definitely needed disinfecting though.

Multiple times.

Now the afternoon light was painting patterns on his dark skin, and you were finding it hard to care about time zones at all. When he woke up to slip away to the bathroom, you grabbed your phone, checking the damage.

Surprisingly, your Tumblr mutuals hadn't caught wind of your return to Madrid yet. But you knew better - it would only take one fan with a good camera angle to set everything off again. You heard the sink running, and then Aurélien padded back to bed, all sleep-warm skin and low-slung sweats. He lay beside you for a moment before that hand found your waist, tugging you closer.

"C'mere," he murmured, voice still rough with sleep. You went willingly, settling against his chest, ear pressed to his heartbeat. That same dopey ass smile from last time spread across your face as his fingers traced lazy patterns on your back. "How long are you staying?" he asked, playing with your hair.

You tilted your head up to look at him. "How long do you want me?"

His answering smirk was knowing as he bit his lip, considering. "A long time."

"Can't do that," you laughed softly. "But... two weeks?"

"Two weeks is good," he hummed, fingers still moving against your skin. "We can have fun, go on proper dates... maybe take a trip somewhere."

You propped yourself up on his chest. "Trips? Already planning baecations?"

"Mm," his hand slid lower on your back. "Gotta pull out all the stops. Could do Mallorca, Ibiza..." his smile turned dangerous. "Or maybe Paris?"

"Paris?" You tried to keep your voice steady, but the way his fingers were still tracing patterns on your skin was distracting. "That's a lot for someone who just wanted to be in my music video a few weeks ago."

His laugh rumbled through his chest. "Is it? When I've been catching you like those highlights at 3 AM?"

You pushed up to look at him properly. "Still can't believe that you noticed that. "

"Bébé," his hand came up to cup your face, thumb brushing your cheek, "You should know that I notice everything. Why did you think I said yes to the video?"

Your heart did that stupid flutter thing again. "Because I'm a three-time Grammy winner and it'd be good PR?"

The look he gave you was almost pitying. "You really think that's why? Still?"

Before you could answer, he moved - that athletic grace you'd watched on the field now used to flip you onto your back, hovering over you with that dangerous smile.

"I said yes," he murmured, chain dangling between you, "because I wanted to see if you were as beautiful up close as you were in those award show pictures I kept saving."

Your breath caught. "You what?"

"Mm." His lips found your neck. "Want to see my camera roll? All those screenshots of you performing? The ones where you're wearing that dress at the VMAs?"

"Aurélien—"

"The way you move on stage," he continued, voice dropping lower, "the way you command attention…"

You couldn't process this - him admitting to essentially doing the same thing you'd been doing, collecting pieces of each other from afar.

"So this," he said, pulling back to look at you with those eyes that saw too much, "is just the beginning. I told you - I'm the lion." His hand slid down your side, grip possessive. "And I chase what I want."

"And what do you want?" Your voice came out embarrassingly breathy.

That smile should be illegal. "Right now?" His lips brushed yours. "For you to stop thinking so much and let me show you exactly why I memorized every word of that song you wrote about me."

You barely had time to catch your breath before he was kissing you again, all intensity and purpose, and yeah - two weeks definitely wasn't going to be enough.

***************************************************

The Madrid morning light painted his bedroom in honey-gold streaks, warming the spaces he'd left cold when he left for training. His kiss goodbye still lingered on your forehead, along with his casual "take the other car if you want to go out" - like lending you a hundred-thousand euro vehicle was as simple as sharing coffee.

But after last night (and the night before that, and the increasingly blurred hours in between), you were content to exist in the aftermath of him. Every room held echoes - the way he'd pressed you against that wall, how his chain had caught the light as he'd lifted you onto that counter, the sound of his laugh when you'd almost knocked over that probably-expensive vase.

He'd been attentive in a way that made your chest ache, all careful questions and watching eyes. The same precision you'd analyzed in countless match footage translated to how he touched you - deliberate, focused, like every response was data to be cataloged. His perfectionist tendencies apparently extended far beyond the pitch, and you had the marks to prove it.

Speaking of Tumblr... you scrolled through your dash one last time. The theories were still flying, the thirst posts still abundant, but it felt really wrong now. Here was Aurélien making actual time for you, being intentional about pursuing you, and you had a whole account dedicated to thirsting over him? The cognitive dissonance was too much.

You wrote a quick post about "digital wellness" and noted taking a break then deleted the app. You'd properly nuke the account later - right now, you had a house to explore.

Ocho followed you through the house, his tags jingling as he padded along faithfully. The home gym where he'd filmed all those workout videos that had sent your mutuals into chaos was impressive, but seeing that motivational quote wall in the flesh? You clutched your imaginary pearls. And the mural of what looked like the 1960s Real Madrid team in the hallway? Yeah, if this was heading where you thought it was heading, you were definitely calling an interior decorator.

The media room spoke more to his age - all premium gaming setups and theater-quality everything. But the real winner was the backyard. The pool area was something out of a luxury resort catalog, and the Madrid sun hit just right on the loungers.

You settled into one, Ocho flopping at your feet, and tried to process everything. Two boyfriends in your entire life, and now here was Aurélien Tchouaméni - six feet two inches of pure "god took his time" - sliding into position to be number three? The universe was really out here making dreams come true.

Your phone lit up:

Auré: Missing you already. Dinner tonight? Unless you're too tired…

Your cheeks heated, remembering exactly why you might be tired. The way he'd switched between languages when he was too far gone to think straight, how that chain had felt cold against your heated skin, the sound he'd made when—

Another message:

Auré: I can feel you thinking about last night from here 😏

The smile that spread across your face was embarrassing. Those Tumblr manifestations had worked almost too well - your mutual followers had no idea they were manifesting their own thirsting out of existence.

******************************************************

"Aurélien," you warned, trying to keep your hand steady as you applied eyeliner, "I swear to god—"

"Mm?" His voice was all fake innocence, but his hands on your hips were anything but, squeezing your ass appreciatively as he pressed against your back. "I'm not doing anything."

The bathroom counter was cool under your palms as you leaned forward, attempting to focus on your reflection instead of how his chain was brushing against your shoulder, how his fingers were tracing the curve of your—

"I'm trying to get ready," you protested, but it came out embarrassingly breathy. "We have dinner reservations."

"We do," he agreed, pressing a kiss to your neck that definitely threatened your carefully applied foundation. "In an hour."

"Which means I need to finish my face and—" you inhaled sharply as his hands slid lower, gripping more firmly. "Aurélien."

You caught his reflection in the mirror - that dangerous smile playing at his lips as he watched you try to maintain composure. The fresh fade and fitted shirt were doing criminal things for his already unfair looks.

"You look perfect already," he murmured, and the sincerity in his voice almost distracted you from how his thumbs were now tracing maddening circles.

"You're impossible," you managed, but you were already leaning back against him, makeup brush forgotten.

His laugh rumbled through his chest. "You like impossible."

"Get out," you laughed, pushing at his chest. "Let me finish getting ready in peace."

His pout was criminally effective, but he retreated to the bedroom. Through the mirror, you watched him settle on the edge of the bed, scrolling through TikTok with casual grace. The moment you spritzed your setting spray though, he stood up like it was Pavlov's bell.

Interesting.

You filed that reaction away for later research.

It was becoming clear that Aurélien had downloaded the Complete Boyfriend Experience somewhere between your time apart. His manners were even more impeccable, his timing perfect, his attention to detail almost suspicious.

He took your hand as you descended the stairs together - another discovery about the man your mutuals had analyzed endlessly. Physical touch was definitely high on his love language list, contrary to Maha's whole dissertation about him being an acts of service guy. (The smugness of proving a mutual wrong? Unmatched.)

The stilettos made you grateful for his steady presence, his hand warm and secure in yours. At the door, he turned to Ocho, voice dropping into that French that still did things to you both in and out of the bedroom.

"Sois sage, protège la maison," he murmured, scratching behind the dog's ears. The simple command shouldn't sound that good, but here you were swooning.

He led you to the car, opening the passenger door with that fluid grace that made everything look choreographed. But there, sitting in your seat, was a red gift bag.

"Aurélien…" you breathed, picking it up before sliding in.

That smile played on his lips as he made his way to the driver's side, starting the car with practiced ease. The dopey ass grin was back on your face before you could stop it as he pulled out of the driveway.

"Are you going to open it?" he asked, one hand on the wheel while the other found its usual spot on your thigh. The Cartier and Van Cleef & Arpels bracelets on his wrist caught the streetlights, and you couldn't help staring at how right his large hand looked there, fingers splayed possessively across your skin.

The gift bag sat in your lap, full of promise. Whatever was inside - expensive or not - didn't really matter. The fact that he'd thought to get you anything at all had your heart doing that stupid flutter thing again.

You pulled out the tissue paper slowly, dragging out the moment. Aurélien's thumb traced circles on your thigh as he navigated through Madrid's evening traffic, but you could feel his attention split between the road and your reaction.

Inside was a small velvet box that made your heart stop for a second before common sense kicked in. Too soon for that kind of box. Still, your fingers trembled slightly as you opened it.

"I saw you looking at it the other day," he said softly, as you lifted out the delicate Van Cleef & Arpels bracelet - a match to one of his. "Thought we could coordinate."

The way he said it so casually, like matching thousand euro jewelry was just something you did now. Like this wasn't him essentially marking his territory in the most expensive way possible.

"You're ridiculous," you managed, but you were already holding out your wrist for him to fasten it at the next red light.

His fingers lingered on your pulse point. "You like ridiculous."

"Maybe," you admitted, watching the bracelet catch the streetlights. It looked right next to his hand on your thigh, like it belonged there. Like you belonged there.

His answering smile was knowing. "Only maybe?"

You were saved from responding by his phone lighting up with a call from Jude. He answered through the car's Bluetooth, and you settled back to listen to him switch effortlessly between English and French, discussing tactics for their next match. The way authority wrapped around his words, how naturally he took command of the conversation - yeah, you were definitely going to need to write another song.

His hand never left your thigh during the entire call, thumb still tracing those maddening patterns that made focusing on anything else impossible. The bracelet glinted with each movement, a constant reminder of how quickly this was all moving.

Two weeks suddenly felt like both forever and not nearly enough time at all.

The restaurant was exactly the kind of place you'd expect Aurélien to know about — tucked away in a historic part of Madrid, all warm lighting and exposed brick walls. Private enough that phones stayed in pockets, exclusive enough that no one batted an eye when he led you to a corner table with his hand on your lower back.

"You're staring," he murmured as you settled into your seat, that knowing smirk playing at his lips.

"You clean up nice," you shrugged, trying for casual like you hadn't been watching him all evening. The black button-down was doing criminal things for his shoulders, and the way he'd rolled up the sleeves to show off those bracelets felt deliberately calculated to drive you crazy.

"Just nice?" His eyes glinted as he reached for his water glass, chain catching the light with the movement.

"Your ego doesn't need any more feeding."

His laugh was low, private. "No? After the way you were liking my training videos? Or maybe my posts?"

The waiter's arrival saved you from having to form a coherent response to that. Aurélien ordered for both of you in perfect Spanish - another language that had no business sounding that good rolling off his tongue. You were starting to think he could read a grocery list and make it sound sexy.

"So," he said once the waiter left, his fingers finding yours across the table, "about Paris..."

Your heart did that stupid flutter thing again. "What about it?"

"I was thinking," his thumb traced your new bracelet, "maybe we start there. Then Côte d'Azur, maybe Monaco..."

"That's a lot of planning for someone who just wanted to be in my music video a few weeks ago," you echoed your words from the other day, but this time they carried a different weight.

His eyes met yours, all intensity and promise. "I told you - I'm chasing. Properly."

The way he said it, like it was just that simple. Like planning European getaways and matching jewelry and looking at you like that was the most natural progression in the world.

"You're good," you said softly, watching his bracelets catch the light as he played with your fingers.

"At what?"

"This whole..." you gestured vaguely between you. "Boyfriend thing."

His smile turned dangerous. "Is that what this is?"

You tried to pull your hand back but he held firm, that grin widening. "I mean- I didn't mean to assume-"

"No?" He brought your hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. "After I've been marking my territory so obviously?"

Your breath caught. "The bracelet–"

"The bracelet," he agreed, then his eyes got that glint that usually meant trouble. "Maybe next time we'll talk about a key. Make it easier than me having to come home from training to let you in."

His phone lit up with another call - Camavinga this time - but he declined it, attention still focused entirely on you.

"You can take it," you offered, but he was already shaking his head.

"They can wait." His thumb traced your pulse point again, right below the new bracelet. "I'm busy chasing."

The waiter came back with a bottle wine and poured some in both of your glasses. You took a sip quickly, trying to calm your nerves.

"You know," he said after taking his own sip of wine, eyes never leaving yours, "I'm going to ask you properly. To be my girlfriend."

Your heart did a backflip. "Oh yeah?"

"Mm." That dangerous smile was back. "Not yet though. Want to do it right."

You couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up. "You're really out here making men look bad, you know that?"

"How so?"

"All this," you gestured between you, at the bracelet, at everything. "The chasing, the dating, the whole... intentional thing. In 2024? In this economy?"

His thumb was still tracing patterns on your wrist, just below where the Van Cleef caught the light. "You think I'd do any less? After watching you for months?"

He made it seem like putting in effort was the most natural thing in the world (and it was). Like taking time to court properly, to build something real, wasn't a dying art. Here you were, living through dating horror stories from friends about situationships and breadcrumbing and 50/50 and men who couldn't even send proper texts, and Aurélien Tchouaméni was out here planning European trips and buying matching jewelry and talking about asking you to be his girlfriend "properly."

"You're kind of unreal, you know that?"

That smile should really be illegal. "Good unreal?"

"Don't fish for compliments," you said, but you were grinning. "Your ego is big enough."

"My ego?" He leaned forward slightly, chain catching the light. "Says the one who wrote a whole song about me?"

Your cheeks heated. "That's different."

"Is it?" His voice dropped lower, more private. "Because I have some thoughts about those lyrics..."

The look in his eyes promised you'd be hearing those thoughts in detail later.

The meal passed in a haze of excellent food and better company, but dessert? That was when Aurélien decided to be truly unfair.

He moved your chair closer to his, the scraping noise against the floor making you wince - but he didn't seem to care, too focused on closing the distance between you. The chocolate something-or-other looked incredible, but the way he picked up the spoon, eyes locked on yours? That was what had your pulse jumping.

Every movement was deliberate as he gathered a perfect bite, holding it up with the kind of precision he usually reserved for perfectly weighted passes. His eyes never left yours as you leaned forward, and the intensity in his gaze as he watched you take the bite had heat crawling up your neck.

You dabbed at your mouth with your napkin, hyper-aware of how he tracked the movement.

"Is it good?" His voice had dropped to that register that did dangerous things to your composure.

"Very–" was all you managed before his mouth was on yours, tongue sweeping in to taste the chocolate himself. His hand came up to cradle your jaw, and maybe you should've been embarrassed about kissing like this in public, but with Aurélien? All bets were off.

Those full lips of his really were criminal, and the way his stupidly handsome face looked when he finally pulled back, pupils blown and that satisfied smirk playing at his mouth? Yeah, public decency was overrated.

"Let's go back to my place," he murmured against your lips, and something in his tone had your stomach doing somersaults.

The waiter appeared almost instantly at his gesture, and you watched Aurélien handle everything with that easy command he carried on the field — getting the dessert boxed, settling the bill, all while keeping one hand on the small of your back like he couldn't bear to break contact.

The night air hit cool against your heated skin as he guided you out, his touch steady and possessive. The valet had his car waiting in minutes, perks of being Madrid royalty, you supposed. He opened your door first, naturally, and the way his eyes tracked down your body as you slid in had you feeling like prey in the best way.

The moment he settled into the driver's seat, Brent Faiyaz's voice filled the car — something about one night, about pleasure, about giving in. The universe really was testing you tonight.

You pressed your thighs together, trying to ebb off your arousal, but then his hand found your leg again. Those fingers splayed possessively across your skin, squeezing just enough to let you know he noticed your movement. Every few seconds his eyes would flick over to you, dark with promise, and the way he bit his lip when you shifted under his touch had you counting the minutes until you reached his place.

"You good?" he asked, voice rough, and the smirk playing at his lips said he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Yeah."

The fact that he could still drive this well while systematically dismantling your self-control was honestly impressive.

The drive felt endless but somehow too quick at the same time. Aurélien's hand never left your thigh, and by the time he pulled into his driveway, the tension in the car was thick enough to cut.

He moved with that controlled grace of his as he came around to open your door, but there was something darker in his eyes now, something that had your pulse racing. His chain caught the security lights as he helped you out, and the way he pulled you close — enough to feel how his chest rose and fell a bit faster than normal — had you forgetting basic motor functions.

You barely registered Ocho's excited greeting at the door, too focused on how Aurélien's hand had slid from your back to your waist, how he was looking at you like he was planning exactly how to ruin your carefully applied makeup.

"Va te coucher, Ocho," he commanded softly to the dog, and honestly? French really should not sound that good. The way the words rolled off his tongue, all authority and promise...

The door clicked shut behind you.

His hands found your hips, turning you to face him. The "AT" pendant glinted in the dim light as he leaned down, stopping just shy of your lips.

"Now," he murmured, "where were we?"

Your breath caught, heart hammering as Aurélien’s fingers dug just a little deeper into your waist. His touch was steady, deliberate — like he was taking his time, savoring the way you melted into him.

"Right about here," you murmured, tilting your chin up, letting your lips brush his just slightly. Just enough to tease.

A muscle in his jaw ticked.

His grip tightened, yanking you that last inch forward until there was nothing between you but heat. His mouth found yours in a kiss that was all possession — slow, deep, unapologetically hungry.

Ocho let out a soft chuff before trotting off, uninterested in whatever was unfolding. You, however? You were done for.

How you made it up the stairs, you didn’t know. You were only aware of the way he guided you with ease, like he owned every move you made together. By the time you reached his bedroom, your back met the closed door the moment the door clicked shut behind you. His breath warm against your skin, his hands dragging up your sides, over the fabric of your dress.

"You knew how tonight was ending," he murmured, lips grazing your jaw, fingers already working the zipper down.

You swallowed hard, exhaling shakily as the dress slipped from your shoulders, pooling at your feet. "Maybe," you admitted, voice breathy.

He smirked, the expression dark and knowing.

Then he stepped back just enough to unbutton his shirt, revealing the broad stretch of his shoulders, the sharp cut of his abs — skin warm, golden, flawless. Your breath hitched at the sight, because God, you’d seen him like this before, but it never stopped stealing the air from your lungs.

You never got tired of seeing him naked.

He was too beautiful.

Aurélien knew it too, the way he watched you watching him, his smirk deepening as he worked the belt from his pants.

Your own breathing was uneven by the time you were both bare, and then he was leading you to the bed, his hands firm on your hips, guiding you onto the mattress with a touch that felt reverent despite the heat simmering beneath it.

He leaned back against the headboard, toned thighs spread slightly as he reached over to the bedside table, retrieving a condom with an ease that sent a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed as he tore it open, sliding it on with practiced efficiency.

Then he looked at you.

His gaze was heavy, filled with promise.

"Come here," he murmured.

You crawled over to him, straddling his lap as his hands found your waist, steadying you as you settled over him. His skin was warm beneath your touch, muscles tense under your fingertips as you traced up his chest.

Aurélien pulled you closer, lips capturing yours in a kiss that was deep and unhurried, his tongue teasing against yours as his hands roamed your back. You could feel him hard against you, the sensation making your breath hitch.

His mouth moved from your lips to your jaw, then lower, trailing heat down your neck until he reached your chest. He took his time, lips and tongue tracing over the swell of your breasts before wrapping around a nipple. The sensation sent a shudder through you, a soft moan slipping past your lips as he sucked, his other hand palming your other breast, thumb circling the hardened peak.

"Aurélien," you breathed, threading your fingers through his curls.

He hummed against your skin, the vibration sending another wave of heat pooling low in your stomach. He switched to the other nipple, flicking his tongue before sucking again, his hands gripping your hips as he ground you down against him.

You whimpered at the friction, the growing ache between your thighs making you restless.

He looked up at you then, dark eyes heavy with want, lips glistening as he murmured, "Ride me."

A shiver ran down your spine at his words, at the low rasp of his voice.

You reached between you, aligning him with your entrance before sinking down slowly, gasping at the stretch, at how perfectly he filled you. Aurélien groaned, hands tightening on your waist as you took him inch by inch.

"Fucking hell," he muttered, head tilting back slightly, his grip firm as he helped guide you down. "Always so tight, bébé."

You moaned at the praise, at the delicious burn of him inside you.

He gave you a moment, fingers kneading your hips before urging you to move. You rolled your hips experimentally, exhaling sharply at the friction, at the way he stretched you just right.

"That’s it," he murmured, watching you through hooded eyes. "Take me just like that."

You set a rhythm, lifting and sinking down onto him, each roll of your hips making you both unravel a little more. His hands roamed your body, one gripping your waist, the other sliding up to cup your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple as he thrust up to meet your movements.

The sound of skin meeting skin filled the room, mingling with breathy moans and curses in both English and French.

Aurélien’s eyes stayed on you, dark and hungry as he murmured, "Look at you… made for me, yeah?"

You whimpered, leaning forward to kiss him, the movement messy and desperate, all tongue. It reminded you of the first night you were together, when you had barely been able to keep your hands off each other, drowning in the sheer intensity of it all.

He groaned into your mouth, hands gripping your ass as he helped you move faster, deeper.

"Fuck, bébé," he rasped, voice wrecked. "You feel so good."

Your nails dug into his shoulders, chasing that high, loving how perfectly your bodies fit together — his deep brown skin against yours, slightly darker but complementing you like a missing puzzle piece.

You moaned his name, head tilting back as the pleasure built, and Aurélien took the opportunity to kiss your throat, teeth grazing your pulse.

His grip on your hips tightened before he lifted you effortlessly, his strength making your breath hitch. He shifted positions, pressing you into the mattress as he settled between your thighs, the heat of his body making you shiver in anticipation.

Aurélien’s hands slid down your legs, spreading them wider, and you hissed at the stretch. He paused, eyes flickering up to yours.

"I got you," he murmured, his lips brushing against your knee before he lifted one of your legs to rest over his shoulder. "Relax for me, bébé."

You exhaled, forcing yourself to melt into the mattress just as he rolled his hips forward, burying himself deep in one smooth thrust.

Your gasp was swallowed by his groan, the new angle sending pleasure spiking through your veins like electricity.

"Aurélien—"

He set a brutal pace, his hips snapping against yours with a force that had you clutching at the sheets, at his arms, at anything that could anchor you. The bedframe creaked beneath you, the headboard tapping lightly against the wall with each deep stroke.

"You take me so well," he gritted out, watching where your bodies met, mesmerized by the way you stretched around him. His free hand slid down to press against your lower stomach, applying just enough pressure to make you keen. "Feel that? How deep I am?"

You could only nod, your voice caught in your throat as pleasure wracked through you.

"That’s my girl," he praised, leaning forward just enough to kiss your ankle before snapping his hips even harder, making you cry out.

The sensations were overwhelming, your body trembling beneath him as that familiar ache coiled tight in your core. Your nails raked down his back, desperate for something to hold onto as you teetered on the edge.

Aurélien’s breathing was ragged, his hands gripping your thighs as he pounded into you mercilessly. "Come for me," he urged, voice rough and commanding. "Let me feel you."

His words pushed you over the edge, pleasure crashing over you in waves as your body clenched around him, your cry of release muffled by his mouth as he kissed you through it.

"Fuck," he groaned, his rhythm stuttering as he followed right after, burying himself deep one last time before stilling, his body shuddering above you.

For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your heavy breaths, your bodies still tangled together as you both came down from the high.

Aurélien kissed you once, slow and languid, before pulling out carefully. He slid off the bed, disposing of the condom before returning, the mattress dipping under his weight as he pulled you into his chest.

You let him, curling against his warmth as his fingers traced lazy circles on your back.

And in that moment, as his lips pressed against your forehead and his arm tightened around your waist, you realized something.

Whatever this man wanted, whatever he needed —you were going to give it to him.

No questions asked.

……………tbd

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Time to bloom

Written for round one of the @steddiebingo

Prompts: Spring and Mutual Pining

Rated: T

Words: 2,348 [also on AO3]

Tags: Alternate Universe - Fantasy; Alternate Universe - Soulmates; Half-elf Eddie; Bard Eddie; Paladin Steve; Mutual pining; Getting together; First kiss; Fluff; Idiots in love

Notes: Today's challenge over at @st-loveconfessions was to write a ficlet inspired by an artwork, and I immediately thought of this beautiful fanart by @starthecozy. I know you like my fantasy AUs, so I hope that this one will make bring a smile to your face! ❤️💐

“So, what's the plan?” 

Steve looks up from the ale he's been sipping for the past hour or so to find Robin walking into the tavern. As she slides onto the barstool next to his, her eyes flick from his face to the colorful bouquet of spring flowers sitting next to his glass. 

“Are you actually going to go out there and give them to him? Or are you gonna let them wilt again?” 

“Shut up,” Steve grumbles. He knows she won't, and she knows he knows it, but she also knows it's not really her he's annoyed with. “I'm getting to it. I'm having a drink before I go, that's all.” 

She gives him a look. 

“Dingus,” she says. “For the past week and a half, you've picked a fresh bouquet every day, and then you keep finding excuses as to why you can't go and give it to him. Your rooms are starting to look like a flower shop and I think Mrs Henderson's sheep and Hopper’s horse have been conspiring to murder you for stealing their food. And quite frankly, if I need to keep watching the two of you dance around each other for a little longer, I might join them.” 

Steve chews on his bottom lip while she snatches his glass and drains it in three long gulps. 

“This is fucking embarrassing, huh?” he mutters. “I'm a damn paladin for heaven's sake. I've slain monsters and fought dark wizards and saved the realm from darkness, and here I am, unable to bring myself to tell that stupid, pretty, loud-mouthed bard I lo- … ugh.” 

He trails off, propping his elbows up on the bar and hiding his head in his hands. 

“I can't even say it in here. I'm so pathetic.” 

A hand grabs his right wrist, gently prying his hand from his face. 

“There's nothing pathetic about being scared.” Her finger traces the outline of the bird-shaped mark on his wrist, and instantly, he can feel himself growing more calm. “For the record, though, I don't think that you have any reason to be. He's as gone for you as you are for him.” 

Steve scoffs weakly. “Yeah, I doubt that. I'm not even his soulmate, so-” 

“You don't know that,” she says. “It's not unheard of for people to have two, or more even. It's entirely possible that you are and your marks just haven't manifested yet.” 

Steve gives her a look. “We've fought side by side. He saved my life on at least three different occasions, and I his. I think we'd know by now if- hey, what the hell?” 

“Not all soul bonds are forged in the fires of battle like ours.” She lowers the hand she just flicked his forehead with, picking up the bouquet and pressing it into his hands. “Sometimes, they need time to bloom. Now go to him.” 

*

He doesn't need to search long. The melody floating over the hill behind the tavern tells him exactly where he needs to go. 

Eddie is sitting cross-legged in the crisp spring grass, plucking away on his lute and singing softly in his mother's tongue. His hair is down, dark curls moving softly in the warm breeze, revealing the tips of his pointed ears every now and then. Steve stands transfixed and watches him, thinking back on how closed-off and guarded Eddie was when they first met. How he used to hide his ears under cowls and hats, always scared to reveal his heritage. How far they've come since then. It makes a familiar, fuzzy warmth spread behind his collarbone. 

And that's when Eddie looks up and sees him standing on top of the hill.

“Well, look who it is,” he greets, face splitting into that wide, toothy grin that makes Steve’s hand clench tighter around the bouquet and sends his stomach into weird little somersaults. “Haven’t seen you around in days. What earns me the pleasure of your presence?”

“Yeah, sorry about that,” Steve grumbles, forcing his wobbly legs to walk closer. “I’ve been busy.”

“Busy, he says.” Eddie rolls his pretty eyes, putting the lute aside and gesturing for Steve to join him in the grass. His voice still has the soft, melodic lilt to it that’s always more pronounced when he’s just switched out of the elven language. Steve thinks he could listen to it for hours and not get tired of it. “The sun is bright and warm in the sky, the birds are singing, and spring is in the air, but his Lordship is busy. Why must you humans always be so dreadfully serious?”

Steve rolls his eyes, plopping down into the pleasantly cool grass. “Well, we can’t all laze around and make music all day. Someone has to make sure the place is running smoothly. And besides, you’re half human as well.” 

“And on days as beautiful as this, I like to not think of it,” Eddie winks. “But thank you for reminding me.”

They sit in silence for a while, the sounds of the village wafting all around them. Eddie is right, Steve thinks. It is a beautiful day. The last chill of winter is fully and truly gone, and the air smells of life and new beginnings. The kind of day he hoped to see again, back in the dark days when all seemed lost and it looked like all of their fighting had been in vain.

“It was nice, by the way,” he finally says. Eddie stirs, gaze shifting from the rolling clouds in the bright blue sky to his face. “The song.”

“Nice, huh?” Eddie huffs softly. “What high praise coming from you.”

“I’m making you a compliment here, you dickhead,” Steve groans, secretly thinking how the song wasn’t just nice, but beautiful. Beautiful as the day all around them and beautiful as the singer. “Take it or leave it.”

Eddie throws his head back and laughs, loud and unrestrained. It makes the dimples at the corner of his mouth appear, the ones that Steve wants to trace with his fingers. When he calms down, there’s a faint pink blush blooming on the bridge of his nose.

“Thank you. I’ve been working on it for a while.”

Steve perks up. “Huh? You wrote it yourself? What’s it about?”

“It’s, um- …” Eddie hesitates, suddenly absurdly interested in plucking at the young blades of grass. “It’s about love. How allowing yourself to be loved is the scariest thing, because it means giving yourself to the other person fully, without hiding anything or holding anything back. But how it’s also unavoidable, if you find the person your heart longs for.”

“That’s-” Steve says. Swallows. Wets his lips with his tongue before he tries again. “That sounds wonderful. You’ll need to translate it for me some time.” 

Eddie’s eyes flick up, locking on his, and he feels himself blush - a hot, tingling heat that creeps out from under his collar and all the way up to his cheeks. 

“I mean … only if you want to, of course. I’d never-”

“I’d love that,” Eddie smiles. “I’ll translate all the words in the song for you, a hundred times over if you want me to. Under one condition.”

“Huh?” Steve says, feeling his blush darken as he watches that smile grow more coy. “What condition?” 

“I want you to finally grow a pair and hand over those flowers.”

Steve sputters. Eddie laughs and pats him on the back as he tries to catch his breath. 

“Damn,” Steve murmurs, once he’s regained the ability to speak. His face must be shining like a beacon by now. “”Was I that obvious?” 

“Subtlety has never been your strength, big boy,” Eddie laments. “You’ve been moping around like a lovesick idiot for weeks. The entire village must’ve caught on by now. So, as your friend, I must insist you spare all of us further embarrassment and just confess your love to whatever fair maiden has caught your eye. I promise there’s nothing to be afraid of, she’d be a fool to- … what?”

Steve has whipped up his head and is gawking at him, eyes huge and incredulous.

“Maiden?” he croaks. Eddie scrunches his nose in confusion. It makes his entire face crinkle adorably, and Steve can feel a treacherous bout of laughter tingling in the warm, fluttery space behind his collarbone. “What maiden? There’s no maiden, you idiot.”

“A strapping young lad then.” Eddie waves a hand in the air between them. He’s trying to go for nonchalant, but there’s a distinctly annoyed undercurrent to his voice. “This isn’t the time to get hung up on technicalities, Stevie. I’m trying to tell you something important here. If you want to be with that person, you need to overcome your fears and take matters into your own hands, because nobody is gonna do it for you.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Apparently not.”

And then he kisses him. 

He might not be Eddie’s soulmate, but he won’t sit by and listen to him hark this nonsense about Steve running off with someone else. Not when Eddie’s laugh and Eddie’s voice and Eddie’s eyes have been all he’s been thinking of for months. 

Eddie makes a confused sound against his lips, arms flailing in surprise, and for a second or two, Steve is convinced he’s gonna push him back and demand to know what the hell he is doing. Then, he melts into Steve’s touch. His lips part ever so slightly, a shuddery sigh tickling Steve’s face, and his hands come to rest on Steve’s arms - lightly, hesitantly, like he isn’t sure this is really happening. Like he cannot believe he’s allowed to have this. It’s all the encouragement Steve needs to deepen the kiss. 

Eddie’s lips are every bit as soft as they look, the little noises he makes even sweeter than he imagined in his wildest dreams, and immediately, he finds himself wondering why he didn’t do this a lot sooner. By the time they pull apart, one of his hands has found its way to Eddie’s face, gently cupping his cheek, fingers slipping into his dark curls.

Eddie stares at him, lips pink and slightly parted, eyes round and large with surprise, and this time, Steve can’t contain the fond laugh that bubbles from his throat. 

“It’s you, you moron,” he says, because he has a feeling that Eddie needs it spelled out for him in order to believe it. “It has always been you. Since the day we met, I think.”

“But-” Eddie stutters. Trails off. His lips move silently, even though no words come out and Steve thinks with a victorious little swoop of his stomach that he has finally found a way to render him speechless. “But why?”

“Because,” says Steve, tracing the shell of one pointed ear with his finger. “You are kind and brave and funny and strong and one of the most amazing persons I’ve ever met and I’ve been trying to tell you this for weeks.”

He notices a little belatedly that his right hand is still clutching the bouquet of flowers, and with a sheepish little smile, he nudges them in Eddie’s direction. 

“These are for you, by the way. Will you accept them?”

“I will,” Eddie’s hands are warm as they close around his, that smile still soft and brimming with hesitant joy. “And, um … I also wouldn’t say no to another kiss?”

Steve is only too happy to indulge him. 

This time, Eddie is more bold, not leaving him the lead but deepening the kiss on his own accord, tongue poking out to tease lightly at Steve’s lips. Steve sighs and grants him access- 

-and that’s when it happens. 

It starts as a barely-there tickle in his left wrist, and at first, he thinks that it's Eddie’s hair tickling his skin. It's only when the feeling intensifies, spreading into his arm and all the way up to his shoulder and chest as a fuzzy, tingling warmth that he realizes it’s something else. He gasps and pulls back, heart kickstarting in his ribcage, head spinning with surprised exhilaration, because he recognizes this sensation. He has felt it before.

“Stevie?” Eddie asks, voice shaky with confusion, and Steve knows he can feel it, too. “What’s going- what is that?”

He is staring at something on Steve’s wrist, eyes huge and watery. Steve doesn’t need to look to know it will be there, but he does anyway. He wants to know what it looks like. 

It’s two music notes, delicate and entwined like dancers, in the exact same spot as Robin’s mark on his other wrist. They’re still pale, only just having appeared, but darkening even as he watches. 

“But how-” Eddie whispers, reaching out shaking fingers to trace the mark. “There’s no way- … What does that mean?”

Steve’s face is hurting from the force of his own grin. 

“It means,” he says, gently disentangling one of Eddie’s hands from the bouquet so that he can lift it between them and reveal the sword and shield blooming on Eddie’s wrist. “That I was an idiot. And also that we’re soulmates.”

He ducks his head to brush his lips against the mark, and the touch is like electricity crackling through his veins, is like the heady rush of a good wine in his blood. Eddie laughs, a shaky and surprised thing, and Steve knows he feels it, too. 

“Robin is gonna be insufferable about it,” Steve mutters. “She’s been bugging me to finally confess to you for forever, can you imagine her smug face when she sees these?”

Eddie frowns down at the marks. When he looks up at Steve, his dark eyes are glinting.

“I dunno, they still look a bit pale to me. Maybe we should wait for them to come in properly before we tell her. If only there was something we could do to speed up the process …”

Turns out Robin was right, Steve thinks as they tumble down into the soft grass together, exchanging whispered confessions of love between more laughter and kisses. 

Sometimes, love needs time to bloom. 

More Steddie Bingo

[tpwk-formula1]

I saw your Drabble ideas 🥵

What about Lance Stroll ( I know he has like 10 fans but stay with me) with a pregnancy/lactation kink 🥵🥵 he’s really been on my mind lately

AN: I'm ngl Im not really a Lance girlie but I loved writing this so I hope you guys love it too!

TW: MDNI 18+ Lacation/ pregnancy kink. nipple orgams

WC: 950+

Y/N POV

Being 8 months pregnant in the middle of an F1 season is not necessarily ideal but Lance is finally on summer break which means for the next two weeks we get to do nothing but relax in Montreal before he has to go back to work.

"I think I'm starting to produce," I comment while rubbing my sensitive boobs softly.

"Oh, really?" Lance says while walking towards me to meet me in the middle of the room. When he gets close enough he's already rubbing my very swollen belly.

"Ya, Ive leaked through a couple shirts already and it's only 2 in the afternoon," I whine getting frustrated with going through so much laundry.

"Just wear nothing than," Lance smirks while jokingly pulling at the end of the Aston Martin shirt I had thrown on. I jokingly send him a glare but when he leans down and places a soft kiss on my lips I kind of just melt into his touch.

"I'm mostly joking, but what about one of your nursing bras with some breast pads in them," Lance says softly while still rubbing soothing circles on my bump.

"I tried that earlier but the pads where rubbing against my nipples too much and it was making them too sensitive," I respond which only makes Lance look at me with a soft smirk.

"Sensitive huh?" Lance comments which makes me look at him with a raised brow.

"Bet I could make you cum with just a little bit of nipple play," Lance comments with a smirk knowing I've been extra horny since being pregnant and it really doesn't take much to cum for him anymore. But just nipple play? I doubt it plus I was leaking which would make it all too messy, which makes me shake my head at the thought but the thought of it has my pussy slightly throbbing.

"You're thinking about it aren't you?" Lance teases making me look him in the eye and nod softly. Lance takes this as his chance to softly pull my shirt over my head leaving my top half completely bare given I hadn't put a bra on after leaking through the first one.

As soon as the air hits my already sensitive nipples I can feel a bead of my milk pebble out making Lance look at it before gently rubbing his thumb over it making me whimper at the touch.

"Oh I'm gonna have you cumming in the next 10 minutes," Lance smirks when he seems how sensitive they really are. He brings up the thumb that's gently coded in my milk before bringing it up to his mouth and sucking it off making me grow red in embarrassment but when I see Lance close his eyes and enjoy the taste I can't help but grow weak in the knees.

"Tastes so good baby," Lance says softly while pushing me towards the bed and gently laying me down on my back while he climbs into the bed next to me.

"Look so fucking pretty like this," Lance keeps praising while rubbing my swollen bump before slowly bringing his hand up to my slightly leaking nipples.

"Oh fuck," I moan gently when Lance pinches my nipples making more milk leak out. I can feel the pleasure from my nipples going straight to my pussy.

I feel Lance start kissing my shoulder and slowly moving closer and to my nipples where he instantly latched his mouth onto my right nipple while still teasing my lift one.

"Mmmm, so good," Lance mumbles when he gets a weak stream of milk filling his mouth. While Lance is sucking on my right nipple he keeps playing with my left leaving me a whimpering mess under his touch.

"Lance," I moan softly when I feel myself really starting to dampen my panties wanting to touch myself.

"More Lance please," I whine trying to push Lance's hand towards the waistband of my pants but he keeps a firm pinch on my nipples making me whimper at the feeling.

"I said I was making you cum just by playing with your nipples," Lance says before leaning back down and taking my nipples back into his mouth while giving it a small bite knowing how much I love a little pain mixed with my pleasure.

I could tell that I really was gonna be able to cum like this if Lance kept playing with me like this.

"Shit, Lance," I moan when he keeps pinching my left nipple between his fingers making me whimper when he starts pulling at them while pinching.

"Lance," I whine a little louder when I feel myself nearly the edge of my orgasm which quickly has Lance shifting slightly so he can take my left nipple into his mouth and start pinching my right nipple instead making me gasps as I feel the milk in my left milk start to spray out slightly.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," I start loudly moaning as I feel myself starting to fall over the edge.

Thats when Lance gently bites down on my nipple and tugs it's between his teeth while pinching and pulling my other nipple helping me ride out one of the more intense orgasms he has given me while pregnant.

"Oh! Lance," I cry as I relax into the waves of my orgasm.

Once I slowly start coming down from my orgasm Lance gently releases me nipples but brings his mouth back towards each one giving it a gently suck to help sooth any pain he might have caused.

"I'm not gonna lie, you taste divine," Lance says with a smile playing on his lips before he leans down and gives me a gently kiss on the lips.

-----------

The end! I hope you enjoyed!

[yuyusshinelight]

Can I request a smut with Dom!Jongho and pregnant wife reader? She’s always so needy especially when Jongho comes home from work/practice and he gives in everytime 🥹

Hi my shining star! Of course you can. It’s a really good scenario that I will gladly write for you🩷. I don't know if that was what you were expecting but I really hope you like it as much as I enjoyed writing it🫶🏻

Warnings: established marriage, pregnancy sex, reader is so needy, fingering, breast playing, lactation kink?, use of pet names, dom-sub subtle dynamic.

It is common knowledge that during pregnancy, women can experience an increase in their sexual desire, attributed to several physical, hormonal and emotional factors that vary from woman to woman. That's what the doctor told you in your first check-ups. Also all those books of pregnancy and parenthood. And the warnings his hyungs that already had children gave him as soon as they found out he was going to be a father too. What Jongho didn't expect was that it could become such a fervent desire, able to make you throw yourself into his fly as soon as you heard the front door. In the first trimester you were already showing signs of needing him closer than ever, but now, just entering the second trimester of your pregnancy, it seems as if all you need to live is to feel him as deeply as humanly possible. Oh, and your chocolate dipped pickles.

Seeing you so desperate to feel every inch of your hot, needy body covered with his love to the point of begging him with those teary eyes makes Jongho give in and indulge you with exactly what you're asking him: satisfy that fiery, burning passion that has you so unhinged.

So, as he has been doing those last two weeks, Jongho is already preparing himself to welcome you into his arms as soon as the door opens. He can even feel your hands wrap around his waist while your lips beg for his. The surprise he ran into when he didn't find you running towards him. Your absence in his arms even worries him badly. Aren't you at home? No, you would have told him if that was the case… What if you are not feeling well and you've decided to lie down for a while?

Leaving the things in the doorway as soon as he closes the door without worrying about how they are positioned or whether it is the right place, Jongho goes into the darkness of his house, making sure you are not asleep on the couch, only to go straight to your bedroom and finally be met with the gratifying surprise of hearing his name in soft desperate sights accompanied by those lovely moans of pleasure with which you drives him crazy every time since your very first time together. All his previous concern quickly fades away, making place to a burning desire to make you scream his name at the top of your lungs.

Not wanting to make neither of you wait a single second more, Jongho opens the door of your shared bedroom, making you stop whatever you were doing instantly and get partially up on your spot for the surprise, one of your hands as your support. You were so immersed in making yourself cum that you haven't heard the door “Jagi…” it's the only thing you can say, the embarrassment of having been caught and his heavy gaze on your half covered body make your heart race enough to be unable to utter anything else. Although there's no necessity to say anything. It's obvious what you were doing as it's also obvious from that look Jongho is giving you that those blankets that are covering you up and not allowing him to see your glistening, slippery cunt have to be removed from you now.

“Hi, Y/N-ah. How was your day? Has our little one been giving you a hard time today?” He says like he does every day, as normal as if he wasn't about to make you cum on his fingers right now. With a calm step he approaches the bed, sitting down next to you to caress your growing belly properly, his eyes fixed on that place even when you answer him that you have had a hard day with the increasing breast pains and sudden fatigue that should have appeared later in the pregnancy “Sorry to hear that, babe” he says before leaning towards your belly and press a soft kiss on it just to look up at you “Want me to take care of those pains?” And, knowing the true meaning hidden in those tenderly recited words, you nod desperately.

From the moment your insatiable clit has been practically crying for attention, you have wanted your husband to be the one to take care of it, and now that he can touch you, you are not going to say no. Obviously.

“Please” your voice comes out like a thin, fragile thread while one of your hands drives his free hand to your breasts, squeezing one with his for a brief second “I need you so bad” Your voice is almost trembling from the sudden contact, your legs squeezing together in a pathetic attempt to give some relief to your demanding cunt. Everything in you screams how desperate you really are “I know” his voice sounds calm, the proximity of your faces now warns you of what's to come “That's why daddy is going to take care of everything now” with a comforting gentleness, Jongho moves the hand you have put in your breast to take your chin between his index and thumb “Mommy only has to worry about enjoying every single moment, okay?” His body leans gently towards yours to pick your lips one brief time, whispering against them “Lie down for me”.

With such a clear command and the promise of making you feel better than your fingers in his voice, you do exactly as he says, settling back into the pile of cushions you had prepared earlier. Your gaze is fixed on your husband, following his every move carefully calculated to capture your full attention. Normally you would be the one doing it, there is nothing you like more than to undress Jongho slowly while giving a special lovely treatment to every new bare part of his body you see. But he has been quite clear when he has told you to just relax and disobeying him has never been an option for you, so you just stay there, delighting in watching how he slowly peels back layer after layer of cloth covering his body until he is left alone in his underwear.

“I will need you to take those out of my way, babe” he suddenly says, pointing at the blankets you still have covering your body just for you to almost kick them off, making Jongho laugh cutely. He knows pretty well that you would have done it without blinking if it weren't for your lovely, bulging belly “Someone is desperate, uh?”.

“I am, yes” you say with a pout, your tone sounds comically annoyed which makes Jongho laugh again “I can't leave you like this, can I?” Question that you answer with a childish shake of your head. Being careful not to press too hard on your belly, Jongho lies partially on top of you, kissing you on the lips before lowering his head to your breasts which he discovers when he removes the shirt without breaking eye contact with you “Are you already producing milk?” He asks absentmindedly, all his attention on how soft and round your boobs look today until his intrusive thoughts lead him to bury his face in the soft valley of your breasts to leave butterfly kisses all over the surface, drawing tiny, tender sighs from you with each kiss “As far as I know, no, but we can always discover it now” your hand is comfortably placed on the top of his head, caressing carefully his hair while he keeps kissing your breasts indistinctly. And from the way your husband suddenly looks at you, he seems to love the idea “Then let's discover it”.

Without even a second thought, his tongue is already playing with your sensitive, erect nipple, slowly preparing it for what is to come. But, as the soft sounds you're giving him don't seem to be enough for the already horny idol, Jongho brings one of his hands down slowly, taking his time to caressing your bulging belly gently. Feeling his baby on your tummy under the palm of his hand is something that fascinates him, he still can't believe that you two made that tiny life that is growing inside you. Jongho is looking forward to finally holding your baby in his arms.

Following its previous path, Jongho inserts his hand inside your now wet panties. With his tongue on your sensitive nipple and his fingers subtly brushing your slippery folds, a shiver runs through your extra sensitive body from the exaggerated amount of increased hormones like an electric current, making you even sob in pure excitement. But that's not sufficient. You really are desperate either for his fingers playing with your cunt or his cock splitting you deliciously good.

“Jagi, please” in an attempt to erase that burning sensation inside your hot body, you lift your hips just a few centimetres to press his fingers where you need; but it doesn't go beyond that, an attempt, thanks to the extra weight of your baby and the father lovingly forcing your hips back to their previous position “Let's go slow babe, let me prepare you well for me” Jongho's hot breath against your now wet nipple when he cuts his task to answer you instantly makes your skin crawl, closing the hand that grips his hair with a certain force “I have prepared myself enough already. Please, skip the teasing”.

You know perfectly well that this attitude usually doesn't work with your dominant husband who doesn't like to be told what he has to do, but lately he has been spoiling you a little too much so, maybe, he will let it go this time. Also, he has to take responsibility for your neediness, it's his fault after all. Jongho is so deliciously addictive that you can never get enough of him, especially now with your hormones revved up by pregnancy, forcing you to want to have him inside you all day long.

And that's precisely the reason Jongho nods to your request, giving you a short kiss on your sternon before taking your lovely pink mound back into his mouth to suck at his whim and stick two fingers at once into your tight, slippery pussy. He may not like it when you tell him what to do during sex but, being aware of such a change you are undergoing in your body because of your baby, the least he can do is to give in and do absolutely everything you want. Not like he doesn't like spoiling you.

The way in which your husband is taking care of your needy, hot body has you in cloud nine. With just the swaying of his fingers in and out of you, alternating between scissoring and pressing upwards on your fleshy wall to find your sweet spot, he has you completely immersed in a wave of intense pleasure that makes your body tremble. Now add that the delicacy with which his mouth is stimulating your boob. You could die of pleasure right now.

It is truly fascinating as well as chilling how Jongho has the ability to induce you in such a high that can make you lose your mind completely with just a few minutes of that melodic movement of his fingers combined with his tongue.

The gentle movement of his body over yours only increases your already agitated breathing, you can even hear your heart pumping in your ears. You can't stop that string of moans with his name that cascades from between your lips, it's not like you want to stop it either. You know perfectly well what effect each of your sounds have on him, especially how crazy it drives him when he hears you meowing his name in such a blatant and pornographic way like you're doing right now.

But then Jongho stops sucking on your nipple with a really cute pop, his lips leaving that boob to go to the other, brushing gently over your unattended mound which makes you whimper in a needy sob “Feels better, babe?” his fingers keep moving on your cunt, his thumb going to give some attention to your clit ”I know your breasts have been hurting so much lately” for the pleasure he is giving you, you can't pronounce anything but his name so you just nod ”My poor girl” his lips leaving a trail of kisses from your breast to your jaw, making you sigh with each sweet touch ”Don't worry, love, I'm going to make sure they don't hurt anymore” and with that said, he gives you a tender kiss on the lips to which you respond more than delight, entwining your fingers through his locks while his free hand gently trails down his torso until it reaches his boxer line, wanting to go lower to make him feel as good as he's doing with you but Jongho has another plans on mind “Don't, babe” his hot breath against your lips when he breaks the kiss “Today it's all about you”.

“That's not fair for you” you reply between soft sights, his fingers never stopping playing between you wet, gummy walls and throbbing clit. But Jongho shakes his head, picking briefly your lips one last time before going down again “So sweet of you, love, but I'm fine” he says, stopping at your neck to leave a little hickey, his thumb circling your clit a bit harder when he feels how your walls start to squeeze his fingers with more force, warning of your impending orgasm “Now, let's make you cum”.

Without giving you time to reply to him, Jongho lowers his head to your breasts and takes your nipple on it one more time, sucking deliciously hard on it while his fingers speed up in your cunt which makes you burst into screams. You're madly in love with the aggressive sweetness with which he is giving you all this overflowing pleasure. And then you get that familiar, longed-for feeling in your belly, making you squirm. You are very close to reaching your climax and Jongho obviously knows it, so he increases the speed of his fingers, gently biting your sensitive mound as he knows you like it before flicking his tongue around it and sucking hard again. You are there, right there, just a few strokes more of his thumb on your clit and you finally come with a loud pornographic moan of his name.

Your expressions, your sounds, your walls contracting so intensely around his fingers, the amount of delicious fluid gushing from your churning pussy. Your orgasm has been so intense that Jongho has become extremely aroused. His cock demands furiously to bury itself to the hilt deep inside your heat.

“Everything good, babe?” You just nod at him, still trying to catch your breath “Feel good?” And, again, you just nod at him but, this time, you take his gorgeous face between your hands to approach him and catch his lips in a deep, messy kiss to which he clearly responds. And you stay like that for a long time, your tongues intertwined in a passionate and loud kiss until your lungs beg for a breath of air.

“Well…” he starts, completely breathless after almost eating your mouth "you don't seem to be producing milk yet, babe. I'll have to check again tomorrow” that comment makes you laugh, making you blush a bit embarrassed. But Jongho knows that smile, he knows you're looking forward to it already. Like him, let's not lie "But for now, spread your legs wide” he puts one of his hands on your inner thigh, spreading it a bit while he moves from his spot at your side to get between your legs "I'll give you mine".

[moonmaiden1996]

How would Law and Sanji deal with embarrasing sex-fails (like cumming before entering or loud farting)? 😄

Okay...I did not expect to love writing this one but OMG I DID!!! I am seriously thinking about writing more.

Trafalgar D. Water Law – The "Pretend It Didn't Happen" Approach

Law prides himself on being calm, composed, and in control. But if something embarrassing happens during sex? Oh, this man will mentally leave his own body.

He’s deep in the moment, pupils blown, voice low and raspy—he’s got you right where he wants you. And then?

Boom. Over before he even enters. Just a sticky puddle taunting him

Absolute silent panic. This is worse than death.

He freezes, processing what just happened. He doesn’t even blink. For a good five seconds, you might think he straight-up died. And then? He acts like it didn’t happen.

"Tch… That was just a test run." 😤 "Give me five minutes."

Cue him rolling onto his back, staring at the ceiling, regretting everything. He’s already running medical calculations in his head to figure out the fastest way to recover.

Does he make a self-deprecating joke? Nope. Does he acknowledge it? Absolutely not. Instead, he just stares at you like he’s daring you to say something.

Good luck holding in your laughter.

Imagine: You’re tangled up, things are getting heated, bodies pressed real close—and then…

PPPPPPFFFFTTT 💨

Law’s soul leaves his body instantly.

He stops. Just stops. Entirely still. Not even breathing.

"…That was your fault." He blames you immediately. Doesn’t matter if it was clearly him—he is the Surgeon of Death, and he will gaslight his way out of this.

If you laugh? Oh, he’s furious. Face in his hands, ears red, muttering "Why does this shit happen to me?" under his breath. He will refuse eye contact for the rest of the night.

If you try to comfort him? He’ll grumble something about digestion, bodily functions, and muscle contractions to make it sound scientific. Still embarrassed, but now nerdy about it.

Conclusion: Law cannot handle sex-fails. If one happens, he needs time to recover and possibly die inside a little. His overdramatic but quiet drama.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Sanji – The "Dramatic Overreaction" Approach

Sanji is a man of passion, charm, and romance—but if something embarrassing happens in the bedroom? This man will lose his damn mind.

You’ve got Sanji all worked up—whispering dirty things in his ear, pressing against him, teasing. He’s already panting, body shaking with anticipation, and just as he’s about to enter— Game over.

This man CRIES. 😭💀

Drops face-first into your chest and just wails into your skin like he’s been personally betrayed by the universe. "Mon Amor… this is a DISASTER!!" 😩 "I didn’t even… I couldn’t even—!!"

He clutches his chest like he’s been mortally wounded. Kicks his legs under the sheets. He physically collapses. This man is full-body trembling like he’s in the middle of a Shakespearean tragedy. "I have failed you as a man." 😔💔

You’re laughing so hard you can’t breathe, but Sanji is NOT joking. He will refuse to look at you for at least an hour, lying face-down on the bed, absolutely devastated. The drama is unmatched.

The room is thick with passion—your hands are tangled in his hair, his lips are leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, and then— PPFFFTT— 💨 … Silence.

Sanji stops moving IMMEDIATELY.

Eyes wide as hell. Face instantly tomato-red.

And then?

This man straight-up tries to exit the room.

"Excusez-moi—I must leave, I must go, I—" He is already reaching for his pants like he’s about to abandon the situation entirely.

If you laugh? He DIES. Falls backward onto the bed, hand over his heart, groaning like he’s been mortally wounded.

"You must NEVER speak of this!!" 😫 "I can never show my face again!"

If you try to comfort him? He just dramatically throws himself into your arms like, "Why are you even still with me??"

The ONLY way to snap him out of it? Kiss him and tell him it was cute. Then suddenly he’s perking up, kissing your neck, pretending it never happened.

But he WILL remember. Forever.

Scenario: Sanji Going Down on You, But He Cums Early

You’re lying back, head resting on the pillow, legs parted just enough to let Sanji work his magic. His hands are gently caressing your thighs, lips trailing kisses along your inner leg. He’s absolutely obsessed with making you feel good, his entire focus on you. He starts slow—teasing, tasting, and gradually building up the tension between you two. You’re moaning softly, eyes fluttering shut, completely lost in the moment, when—

BAM.

It happens. He cums too soon.

Sanji pulls away immediately, face bright red, eyes wide, mouth slightly agape, completely mortified. He doesn’t even know how to respond. The room is silent for a good few seconds.

And then? He curls up into a ball of despair on the bed, covering his face with his hands like he’s just committed an unforgivable crime. "Mon dieu…!" he exclaims dramatically, his voice muffled through his hands. "How could I be so weak?? I—I'm so sorry! I ruined everything!"

He refuses to make eye contact, shaking his head as if the entire universe has conspired against him. If you try to comfort him, all he can do is mutter "I failed you again…" in a small, broken voice. The embarrassment is palpable, and he is convinced that you’re utterly disappointed.

But here’s the kicker—after the initial meltdown, when you hold him and whisper sweet things, he’s so needy for reassurance. His face is buried in your chest, and he murmurs, "I promise I'll make it up to you, I swear, please… let me try again."

And yes, he will try again. But first? He needs some time to recover. He’ll casually ask you if you want him to "start over" or take a break—his pride slightly bruised, but still determined to do whatever it takes to please you. He will definitely be between your legs making it up to you till he’s ready to demonstrate how much of a man he is. He'll definitely keep thinking about it, though. For the next month at least. Every time he gets close, he'll remember that one moment, and his dramatic overreaction will likely strike again. But don’t worry, eventually, he will get back into it with renewed passion and an even more intense focus—just make sure you’re prepared for the possibility of another emotional breakdown at any second!

Conclusion: Sanji falls apart if something goes wrong. He’ll cry, dramatically apologize, and refuse to look at you. But with a little reassurance, he’ll bounce back, though he’ll never forget it. All heart, but full of drama. Very much the definition of the loud, dramatic type

LIKE. COMMENT. REQUEST

[istjisung]

hii! can u write a stepbrother jisung with a little dubcon/noncon hehe <3

content warnings stepcest, dubcon/noncon elements (he doesn’t consent, but he clearly wants it) , older reader, usage of the word “noona”, masturbation, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex

don’t like it? don’t read it!

notes thank you so much for being my first request. i hope you enjoy, because i had a lot of fun writing this drabble.

there’s that sound again. the agitating, grating, annoyingly sexy sound of jisung masturbating in the next room. the walls are paper thin, and he knows that. but it seems that no matter how hard he tries, he just can’t quite be as silent as he needs to be. which is what leads you to hear him. each. and. every. time.

the wet sounds of his spit-slicked cock fucking his fist. the low moans that leak past the corners of his pursed lips. the curses, the breathy way he moans out your name. you hear it all. you hear the way your stepbrother makes himself cum almost nightly to the thought of you—and you can’t help it when slick starts seeping out of you and soaking your panties. you can’t help it when you push your panties to the side and slip your fingers inside yourself, wishing they were jisung’s instead. you’d wonder what he’s thinking about; was he imagining it’s your hand? did he think about you giving him a blowjob? or does he think about stuffing your pussy full of his big cock, your sticky arousal smearing over his thighs as he fucks his cum into you?

it’s wrong. it’s so wrong, yet it feels so right. you know that you shouldn’t be thinking of your stepbrother like this, he shouldn’t be getting off to you, but how can you quit when he’s so attractive?

you’d been dropping hints for weeks.

suddenly, your fingers weren’t enough. you needed more. to be stretched open, shamefully coming undone for jisung. to have your tight cunt swallowing his dick inside you. to hear him moaning for you, right in your ear. your fingers didn’t fill you up the way you craved. so you’d tease jisung, hoping he would get the hint and take what’s his. but nothing seemed to work. he didn’t react when you would wear little shorts or a skirt that barely covered your ass, looked away when you would bend over in front of him to give him a panty shot, and worst of all, he would shift and brush your hand off of his thigh at dinner when you tried to touch him.

needless to say, you’d gotten desperate. you didn’t understand why he wouldn’t take the bait. you know that he finds you attractive. you hear how much he does. why would he keep pathetically fucking his hand when you’re even more than willing to give him everything he wants and more?

you can’t stand listening to him for one more moment. your pussy was uncomfortably wet and you were getting nowhere with just your fingers. before you can think about it, before you could talk yourself out of it, you stomp your way to jisung’s room, which shares a wall with yours. he hears you coming, and he’s afraid that he’s been too loud and you’re going to yell at him and call him a pervert. he fumbles to try to quickly cover himself up, but you’re quick to swing the door open and barge in his room. he’s still fumbling with the blanket, trying to cover himself. you stand in the doorway, staring at him menacingly. jisung feels the heat of embarrassment burning his body from the inside out as you stand there, face unreadable and gaze unwavering. he’s unable to talk, wanting to beg you not to storm out and tell your parents what a disgusting freak he is, but nothing comes out.

then it happens. you close the door behind you, stepping even further into his room.

jisung watches as you walk towards him. he feels like everything is moving in slow motion, every movement you make, the sway of your hips, watching your gorgeous legs and the subtle bounce of your tits with every step as you get closer to him. he’s awaiting a slap to the face, a curse, or something equally degrading. but there’s nothing.

instead, you tear the blanket off of him, moaning at the sight of his cock, so thick and heavy and wet between his legs. he can’t deny the way his dick jerks, painfully hard and throbbing, at the sound.

“what—what are you doing?” he managed to croak out. “noona? i-i’m—i’m sorry—oh, fuck.”

you reach out, wordlessly wrapping your hand around his shaft. experimentally jerking it once, twice, three times. the slide was easy, though the saliva had started to dry in the absence of his attention.

“you think about me when you jerk off?” your eyes are still trained on his cock. the tip has begun to turn a purple-y red color, desperate for release. you already knew the answer, so your question was rather rhetorical. “do you ever think of asking me to help?”

jisung bites his lip, squeezing his eyes tight. he can’t deny that having your hands on him, slowly rubbing over his length, is something he’s dreamed about for years now. but that’s all it is. a dream. something unattainable, out of reach, unrealistic. “we—fuck, noona—we can’t.”

you squeeze, stopping at the base. “we can’t what?” finally looking up at him, you take in the view of his face. eyes screwed shut, cheeks flushed, lips bitten and swollen, a thin sheen of sweat sticking his hair to his forehead. “from the looks—and sound—of it, you want it just as badly as i do. so don’t tell me no, sung.” not that you’d listen, anyway. you had come this far and you feel that you’re past the point of no return now.

you crawl onto the bed with him, leaning down to be eye level with his abdomen. gathering up your saliva at the tip of your tongue, letting it drip down onto the head of his aching cock. you don’t listen to his protests as you spread the makeshift-lubrication down the length of his cock with your hand, lips soon following. you lean down to press kisses along the sides and tip of his cock before enveloping the thick head with your mouth, suckling and swirling your tongue around it.

his hands find their way to your hair. “ah, haa, stop—please. noona. we—aaah—can’t do this.”

you take more of his length into your mouth, focusing on breathing through your nose until you get halfway, then pulling off to repeat the process. kissing, licking, sucking, bobbing your head and trying to take more of him in your mouth, tip hitting the back of your throat.

jisung finally opens his eyes again. and what a treat he sees—his stepsister, the girl slightly older than him that he’s been fantasizing about for so long, lips stretched out thin around his thick cock, heavy on your tongue as you desperate try to lick at whatever can’t fit in your mouth. he feels like he could cum at the sight, but he knows he shouldn’t. he knows that he should push you off and pretend this never happened. he wants to say no, but he can’t bring himself to. he selfishly wants to savour the feeling of your warm mouth around him, knowing that this is something he thought would happen in his dreams.

in fact, he isn’t quite sure that he isn’t dreaming when you detach yourself from his cock, because when you do, you turn around, on all fours, and pull your panties to the side. jisung has a full view of your sopping wet pussy, understanding now just how desperately you wanted this. he knows then, that no matter how much he tells you not to, you’re still going to sink down on his cock. all he can do is bask in the feeling of your velvety, spongy walls clenching around him, draining the cum from his balls, and not complain.