#(happy to continue or we can wrap up? :) )

[stardustquills]

thinking about husband!nanami being obsessed with the idea of getting you pregnant. 18+ mdni.

cw; overstimulation, unprotected p in v, creampie, mentions of pregnancy

wc; 1.7k

-

you’ve lost track of how many times he’d made you come - how many time he’s come in you. even now, hours later, it seems like there’s no end.

not that you were complaining anyway.

“oh, baby,” he dragged, voice an octave lower than it usually was. kento had just come in you for the nth time, marking your walls with his white ropes.

he pulled out, leaning his head down to take a glance at his art. “what a pretty pussy. my pretty pussy.” your lips were swollen and puffy, blushed as his seed escaped your cunt, trickling down onto the bed.

he tsked, taking two fingers and scooping up your combined juices before shoving it back in.

you folded with a sob, biting on his shoulder. You head moved into the crook of his neck, taking in his natural scent mixed with his earthy cologne.

“h-ha, ken,” you managed to whimper, your hands weakly clawing at his shoulders. you were overstimulated and tired, unsure of how much longer you could handle him and his insane sex drive.

“doing so good f’me, honey,” he cooed softly, giving you a moment to recover before the next round. his free hand combed through your hair, a soothing motion he knew you loved. when he spoke again, it was like he was speaking to a baby. voice all sweet and gentle, one you couldn’t find yourself saying no to. “think you can go another round?”

he wasn’t really asking - he’d make you go another round.

he slipped his fingers out, causing a soft mewl to escape your throat. your hole hopelessly clenched around nothing as he brought his fingers up to his mouth, cleaning them off. he hummed contently, his fingers moving out of his mouth with a pop!

“we taste good together,”

what a filthy, filthy man your husband was.

“k-kento,” you looked up at him, a pout on your lips with dried tear stains. you hands moved from his shoulders to his neck, your fingers fiddling thing the hairs on the nape.

he looked down at you as you called his name - his heart softened at the sight. his precious wife pouting and looking up at him with doe eyes. your body trembled and shook, goosebumps rising as he trailed a hand down your arm. “yes, darling?”

“‘m tired,” you started, voice quiet and barely audible. “can’t-“

“ah ah,” he cut you off, “yes you can. c’mon honey, just one more round, please?”

how could deny him after he asked so sweetly? but you didn’t know what had gotten into him, why he was so hellbent on getting you pregnant. having kids wasn’t a new topic in your marriage, it’s been something that’s been discussed numerous times, but now you think you’re ready for it.

ever since you told kento “let’s have some kids,” (which was earlier today), he’s been pounding into you like a bitch in heat.

it’s just that he thinks you’d look so beautiful pregnant with his kids. it’s something he’s been thinking about for ages. kento knew you’d be the mother of his kids just a few months into dating.

and now he finally gets to live it.

he can’t wait to see you all round and glowing, growing his kids in your womb. he just knows that you’d be an amazing mother, it’s something you’ve been talking about, and it fills with him so much happiness.

fuck, he’s hard again.

“mmh-“ you whine into his neck as he takes your hand and it helps it wrap around his cock. his hand is around yours, helping you pump because your hands feel that much better than his.

and the whimpers of your name that leave his lips are so delicious, so delicate and full of the love he has for you. “just one more round, baby, please?” he repeats, voice breathy as you both pumped that veiny cock. “wanna get you pregnant so bad. last round, i promise.”

his hand left yours as he helped you on top of him, your legs straddling his as you hand continued moving up and down, torturously slow. kento looked up at you, his hand swiping a strand of hair behind your ear, a soft smile adorning his lips.

“so pretty,” he pulled your face closer to his, placing a kiss on your forehead. “so beautiful,” he kissed your eyelids, “so perfect,” the tip of your nose, “all mine,” before kissing your lips.

you swallowed up his whimpers and moans, you hand still resuming that unhurried pace. his lips fell open and you continued pecking them, a girlish giggle leaving you as a particularly needy moan of your name left your husband.

“just one more round, yeah?” he pulled his face away from yours, his eyes falling to where your hand tugged on his cock. the tip was an angry red from being so used and aroused, and when you swiped your thumb over his slit he thought he’d come right then and there.

“nghh, b-baby,” his hand grabbed your wrist, stopping your movements, “fuck, gonna make me come,” his voice was deep and gravelly, and you could feel the fresh pool of arousal at your cunt. “gotta come in you, honey, gotta give you some babies,”

kento’s hands moved to your hips, lifting them with a mumble (“lift your hips for me, sweetheart. there you go.”) as he let you line him up with your cunt. your cunt that was drooling with his come, making a mess on his thighs. but he didn’t care - the sight only turned him on even more.

you let yourself lower onto him, a desperate moan ripping through your throat, one that matched your husband’s.

“kenn,” you panted, already squirming, just from him bottoming out. the pleasure was too much for you and your overstimulated pussy. your head fell into the crook of his neck once more, using his scent to ground yourself.

“shh, you’re doing so good, mrs. nanami,” and there it was, his favourite nickname for you, “last round, sweetheart, you can take it,”

you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last round.

but oh he was being so sweet, so nurturing and careful as his hands helped you roll your hips against his. your thighs shook already, goosebumps rising all over your skin as he did all the work even though you were on top. he doesn’t even bother to rub hearts on your clit; he knows you’ll come just from the penetration alone.

his heart is full of so much love and lust, breathless gasps leaving his plump lips as he feels himself hitting your cervix. so much love for his wonderful wife - his wife that lets him use her body over and over again without any complaints.

he bucked his hips up, a moan of ecstasy leaving him as a gasp of surprise left you. his strong arms now wrapped around your waist, pinning you against him as he bucked his hips up into you again, not letting you escape.

you took it like the good girl you were and it drove him mad.

“so good to me, sweetheart,” he leans his head down to your hair, inhaling the sweet, floral scent of your shampoo. kento closed his eyes, letting himself thrust into you faster and faster. he’s so pussy drunk he can’t think straight; he’s only focused on giving his wife some babies. “mmm-aah, mrs. nanami!”

each thrust brushed against your g-spot, a breathless pant leaving you every time it happened. you couldn’t think straight. you wanted it to stop, the sensation was tiptoeing the fine line between pain and pleasure, but fuck kento’s noises were like music to your ears. you’re so cock drunk, strands of incoherent babbles leaving your lips as he dragged his cock in and out of you.

you could feel yourself clench around him, a distinct whine leaving your lips as you felt that familiar coil in your stomach.

“gonna come again, love?” kento grunted, a singular ha! leaving him as his dick kept ramming into you. “it’s only been a few minutes, darling,”

“too much, ken, ‘s too much,” you sobbed, seeing a fresh batch of tears blurring your vision.

“you’re fine,” he decided, thrusting into you with a newfound fervour. “you can take it, honey, i know you can.”

and you do. because who are you to disappoint your loving husband? if he says you can take it, you can take it.

“that’s it, such a good girl,” your head spins with how proud he sounds. you could smell the salty sweat mixed with his earthy cologne. god, everything about him drove you nuts.

“it’s okay, baby, you can come,” he encourages you, one hand petting your hair, the other still wrapped around your waist. kento could feel like way your walls have been fluttering around him, one of the signs you were close. not to mention the way your body quivered and spasmed.

a few more thrusts and you were coming undone, your noises of pleasure being muffled against his neck. your chest heaved with each deep breath, doing everything you can to try and reduce your heart rate.

kento came soon after, his arms tightening around you as an attractive moan left him. thick, white ropes of his seed shot into your womb again, and he kept thrusting until he was sure his come was in you as deep as it could go.

“i love you,” kento whispered, kissing your hair since you kept your face in his neck. he bucked his hips into you again, testing the waters, and chuckled when a high-pitched whine left you.

“love you too,” you kissed his neck, still breathing heavily.

he didn’t pull out, not wanting his waste any of his come. instead, thrusted into you again, slowly, sloppily, his pussy drunk mind taking control of his body.

“k-kento,” you pleaded, dragging your nails down his chest as his pace gained momentum. “you said that was the last round-“

“i know, sweetheart,” fuck, his voice was so needy - your overstimulated walls fluttered around him madly. “but you just feel so good, and i wanna get you pregnant so bad, and h-hahh,” he moaned, cutting himself off.

and it’ll continue, night after night after night, until he knows you’re pregnant - and even then, it might happen after that, too. because kento is so in love with his marvellous wife, he only wants to make her feel good.

[nanamisgirly]

imagine nerd!Choso, you both are in the same degree. he didn't really noticed you at first but, for some unknown reasons, he kept bumping into you— wether in the hallway or you'd be few rows in front of him during lectures. And just like that, he developed an obsession toward you. and might god forgive him, but he couldn't help jerking off his cock at the thought of his length disappearing between your lips, eyes flickering up at him with a teasing glint. he was kind of sad you didn't even know he existed :/

but how lucky! in one of your lesson, the teacher assigned a partnered project. and fortunately, the duo were made with a randomized system!! Choso did not think twice, with some quick manipulation on his computer, he paired himself…with you! almost too easy

on your side tho, you had never heard the name Choso before. So when you reached out to set up a time for the project, you didn't expect much of it. But now…sitting across from him…his wide figure looming over the table, inked arms straining against the ridiculous tightness of his shirt…that was another story. How hadn't you noticed such a pretty face?? sharp eyes lined with kohl, two messy buns with some rebellious strands framing his beautiful features, and perfect dark purple painted nails tapping against the table. ‘am i blind or sum?’ you wondered. 

nerd!Choso was originally awkward with social interaction but more so when it came to you. He clears his throat "I- uh," he started, voice trembling "f-for the work, would you like t-t- to…" his cheeks flushed an adorable pink as you stared at him, giving him time to formule his thoughts ‘such a cute boy’ you mused.

"we can do it at my home!" he suddenly blurted out, words rushed, as if the poor man hadn’t said it now, he never would have :( "i- i mean, t-the assignment! o-of course..." he was so embarrassed of himself, his hands nervously cupping his warm milk chocolate "if— if you want to.." his eyes darted anywhere but yours, unable to hold your gaze. not when you were looking so intently, like you were seeing right through him. because what if you had some superpowers, the kind to read his horny thoughts, the kind to know exactly how many times he fucked his fist to the image of your pretty mouth stuffed full of his aching cock. catastrophe!!!!

nerd!Choso was blushing furiously, messier, stuttering over his words more than usual when you were unconditionally giving your best to give the man a gooood ride. “p-p-please” he whined, voice breaking. You leaned in, your breath warm against his ear “tell me, my pretty shy boy…what are you begging for, hmm? use your words, pretty". 

choso's hands gripped your thighs like a lifeline, fingers digging into your skin. “y-you— mngh, it's— it's too good. i can't last— i— please,” he choked out, eyes glossy as you slammed your hips down harder. His happy trail rubbed against your clit with every grind. the friction giving you as much pleasure as him.

“preeetty boy," you cooed, trying to maintain your composure despite having his fat dick stretching you enough to see stars. “is this what you've been thinking about the whole year? me riding you? or even better,” your mouth went for his neck, licking softly, contrasting with the pulsing grip of your cunt, milking his cock. "touching yourself to the thought of my glossy lips wrapped around your pathetically big dick ?" your voice was so sensual "tell me, tell me and i'll give you what you want” that man was moaning, the sluttiest moans escaping his throat. in response, your walls clenched harder, trying to suck him in even deeper at this point. “i— i was— i mean, i- fuckfuckfuck" choso were sure he lost the ability to form a simple sentence, his head falling back as he felt his tip kissing your cervix. but he tried his best to continue "i— i was…pumping my— my cock at the- mngh, thought o-of you..t-takin' me…d-d-deep,” poor boy was losing his mind. You've never seen a man being that pussy drunk, so openly lost into you, that was addicting.

your fingers trailed over his inked pecs, moving along the curves of his tattoos making their way to his nipples, and you pinched. not too rough to hurt but enough to send jolts of pleasure through his body. “look at this good boy," you sighed, feeling choso throbbing inside you. "earned the right to cum inside me… would you like that?”. 

you loved teasing him. he was a total whimpering, fucked out mess beneath you. ‘so cute’

nerd!Choso was as sure as the sky is blue that you had superpowers, somehow. and you both sure as well scored a beautiful A on the assignment.

(*ᴗ͈ˬᴗ͈)ꕤ*.ﾟ

[humanjarvis]

whose?

synopsis: what’s his is yours.

tags: fluff, smut (handjob), kind of comfort, in a way. jealous/possessive reader, reader needs reassurance, caleb subs himself out to give it to them. reader is a bit delusional but he’s into it, of course word count: 1.4k

a/n: i have reached the point in writerdom where my “drabble ideas” exceed 600 words and must become full fics. i like this one though

“So, how was it?” 

Caleb looks up as your voice echoes from the living room, having just returned from a Fleet meeting. That afternoon, there’d been a new recruit skill showcase, and he’d been summoned to judge.

“Nothin’ special,” he calls casually, strolling into the room. “The guys at the DAA were a lot more passionate, and a lot nicer to be around. Although…I think this one girl was trying to get on my good side. Kept lookin’ over at me during her trials like she wanted to impress me. She even came up to me afterwards saying she liked my eyes—I had to turn her down. Shame you weren’t there with me, otherwise we could’ve saved her the trouble,” he ends with a sheepish chuckle. 

Unfortunately, Caleb was too wrapped up in his storytelling to notice you flinching at four particular words: “girl,” “liked,” “my eyes.”

Bristling in irritation, you shoot him a skeptical glance before turning your attention back to your phone. “Whose?” you ask, your eerily calm voice cutting through the dry air.

“Huh?” he blinks confusedly. “Whose…what? She said she liked my eyes, if that’s what you’re getting at,” he repeats.

You tut, ticking your head up to the side and raising a sloped eyebrow. “Whose?”

Caleb feels like he’s back in a college classroom, sweating with nerves as he stares at an exam question that hadn’t been on the study guide. 

What had he said wrong? He racks his brain for an answer, and then—oh. He knows what you're doing.

Lately, when other people commented on his body—the body you'd waited so long to touch without consequence—you got a bit…sensitive.

He knows what you want him to say, now. And, like always, he was happy to indulge your adorably territorial request.

“…Yours,” he swallows.

“Good.” With a haughty sniff, you click your phone off and lob it across the couch. “Come here.”

And now, Caleb feels like he’s back in high school, suddenly getting called to the principal’s office. Except this time—because it’s you—a thrill rockets down his spine, propelling him forward in long, obliging strides. 

He sits obediently when you pat the spot next to you, and you turn to face him with a light scowl on your face. An act, he thinks. You’re no more than a lion cub trying to be brave, but you need the validation, the reassurance. And he’ll gladly give it to you.

“I wasn't doing it on purpose,” he pouts. “It's not my fault. Just wanted to tell you about my day.”

“It is your fault,” you grumble, “for being so damn hot and charming all the time.” 

He uses all his effort to take you seriously. To listen solemnly instead of preen at your praise.

“But I am glad you told me, because that means I can remind you,” you add, climbing on top of him. “These,” you start, fingers tracing the outlines of his purple irises, “are mine.” He inhales sharply when you come forward, his eyes fluttering shut to let you press twin kisses to their lids.

He shivers for a moment before opening them gently, encouragement and poorly hidden delight in his gaze. “Yeah,” he rasps in agreement. “Yours.”

Humming in pretend contemplation, you trail your finger down the bridge of his nose. “This too,” you declare, tapping it lightly. 

You take his quick nods as a sign to continue. 

Just a few more centimeters, and your hand reaches his full mouth. “And these,” you start, lowering your voice as you lean in, “are definitely mine.” Claiming his lips in a searing, open-mouthed kiss, you tangle a hand in his hair as he groans into you. His large palms splay across your back, tugging you even closer, and you’re almost upset when you have to pull yourself away. But you have a point to prove. 

“Am I right?” you ask through uneven breaths, and he answers you with hazy eyes and swollen lips. 

Onto the next part.

Running your hands down his bulky arms—also yours—you inch back on his lap just enough to see the full pane of his clothed abs. Like usual, he knows what you want before you even ask and swiftly tugs his shirt off, exposing himself to you with unconditional trust. 

You let a soft smile grace your lips as you count the smooth muscles, chiseled by years of hard work and restraint. “Each of these,” you begin, lightly tapping each one, “is also mine. So I certainly hope she’s never seen them,” you warn with a deceptively playful squint. 

“Nope,” he says proudly. “Nobody outside this room has for a long time. I just keep ‘em in good shape because I know their owner likes them,” he smirks and squeezes your hip gently. 

Flustered by how readily he plays along, you clear your throat bashfully. Damn him. “Y-yes. Well. I do,” you stutter, cheeks burning when his grin widens.

Alright. Evidently, he’s eager—almost too eager—to be put in his place, if you can even call this that. You have to shift the power in your favor, to get the ball back in your court. And luckily, you’re in just the right position to do that. 

Meeting his gaze defiantly—he is not in charge here—you reach between your bodies to slip your hand into his pants. As your warm fingers wrap around him, he lets out a choked whine and screws his eyes shut, only to blink them open seconds later with a pitiful stare. 

“Mhm,” you hum in approval. From Caleb, that look is a show of submission—his favorite card to play when you score the upper hand. That look—the furrowed brow, the pleading gaze, and the slightly quivering bottom lip—means he’s yours to control.

“And whose is this, Caleb?” you tease with reclaimed confidence, squeezing gently around his hardened length. 

“Yours,” he breathes shakily, the response automatic. “Only have it for you—so you can use it.” 

“That’s right,” you smile in satisfaction. Giving him a quick kiss, you lift his heavy cock out of his boxers, watching in admiration as the head glistens with growing need. “Mine to use. Why don’t I show you?” 

Reaching up, you run your thumb across his tip and down his rigid length, coating it thoroughly until he’s slick with his arousal. You figure it’s okay to reward him—that’s part of learning, right? Rewards for good behaviors, punishments for bad. And despite the small hiccups, the moments where he’d siphoned your dominance, he’d been so good for you tonight. 

So you start with slow strokes. Gentle praises and twists of your hand, up and down, down and up, until his face contorts in bliss. Frantic gasps and whimpers fill your ears, and you’re happier than ever that you’re the only one who gets to see him like this. You know there’s no one else—you’ve always known, deep down—but that doesn’t stop you from needing to hear it. From needing him to say it. So you’ve started to ask for it in…creative ways. “You’re all mine, right Caleb?” you murmur between pumps, savoring the pleas that fall from his lips. 

“Forever,” he moans, glassy eyes trying their hardest to focus on your face. “Only yours. Only want to be yours.” 

The fuzzy feeling inside you is a bit out of place in the moment, but as your heart swells, you decide not to care. Latching your lips onto his, you increase the pace of your strokes until he’s struggling to return your kiss, overwhelmed by the dual sensations. Giving him space to breathe, you take the opportunity to whisper in his ear: “Let go, Caleb. But remember, that belongs to me.” 

And as your words envelop him, he spills into your hand with a mewling groan. After two more lazy pumps, you settle yourself back in his lap, positioned right over his twitching cock. 

“Thank you,” you murmur, kissing his cheek gently. He buries his face into your shoulder in response. 

Chuckling, you ease his head back and gaze into his—your—violet eyes. “I almost forgot,” you add softly, placing a hand over the erratic thud in his chest. “This? This is mine, too.” 

[mieisunki]

getting caught

alt: caught in an intimate moment with enhypen

ot7 x female reader warnings: suggestive (mdni)

masterlist

heeseung:

heeseung is one of the members that won't get embarrassed when the two of you got caught. he is a grown man, and if he wants to have some fun with his girl, he will. you, on the other hand, are mortified.

the guys and their girls (including you) had rented out a beach house for vacation. and of course for a beach vacation, you had to buy some new swimsuits that you kept a surprise from heeseung. you felt his eyes on you the whole time you guys were playing in the water.

after playing, the guys went to play volleyball while the rest of the girls went to grab something to eat. you weren't hungry, so you were resting on one of the lounge chairs. right when you got fully comfortable and thought you were alone, you felt something pull at your swimsuit tie. you startle, smacking away heeseung's hand while he laughed.

"not cool." you grumbled before you laid back down. you could feel heeseung's eyes on you when you closed your eyes.

"you're right baby." he sat down next to you. "but neither is my smoking hot girlfriend for not giving me any attention."

"what are you waiting for?"

heeseung leaned forward at your question, finally kissing you. your hands reached up, raking through his damp hair while his roamed your exposed skin. he pulled away from your lips, moving down to your neck. his hand had just grazed the edge of your swimsuit when someone cleared their voice.

"you two lasted a lot longer than i thought." you jump at the voice, pulling away from heeseung to see jay standing there with the volleyball. you face turned as red as your swimsuit, but heeseung just smirked at his friend.

"can't blame a guy, can you?" jay rolled his eyes at heeseung.

"at least go to your room, you horndog." heeseung let out a huff before standing up. you thought he was going to go back to the guys. but to your shock, he bent down, scooping you in his arms. your let out a yell as you were thrown over his shoulder. his hand slapped your ass as he carried you back to the house.

"we'll be down later." heeseung called out as he opened the back door. "maybe."

rest under cut

jongseong:

jay, similar to heeseung, will not be embarrassed at all. he will be annoyed at whoever decided to disturb his time with you while you wished the ground would swallow you whole.

jay was in one of the empty studios, trying to figure out a guitar rift when you showed up. he had been waiting to see you all day, so of course he all but threw his guitar before pulling you onto his lap. you straddled his lap as he kissed you like he had been waiting to all day.

"you could say hello first." you smirk as you pull away.

"hi, my pretty girl." he responded to you before kissing you again.

you were more than happy to oblige, kissing him back. his hands rest on your thighs, rubbing soft circles on the exposed skin as your kisses got more heated. he shifted you in his lap, unintentionally grinding you down onto his lap and causing a soft moan to slip past your lips.

the two of you failed to hear the door open. you only knew someone was there when you heard them gasp. you pull away from jay to see jungwon standing there, shocked at what he just walked into. you let out a shocked gasp, hiding your face in jay's shoulder while he glared at jungwon.

"leave."

you heard a small sorry before the door shut. jay wrapped his arms around you as you apologized. "i'm sorry jay. i thought i locked the door."

he would tell you it's okay, more concerned about you than him. you would recover after a few minutes before pulling away and looking at him. you could tell he wanted to continue, but was going to push it just in case you didn't. luckily for him you did, leaning in and kissing him.

"can we continue?" you ask when you pull away. he smiles, nodding his head before kissing your cheek.

"of course, pretty. let's just make sure the door's locked this time."

jaeyun:

jake will be one of the members that would get not necessarily embarrassed for him but for you. he would feel bad for not being careful enough that someone other than him saw you in a compromised position.

the two of you were watching a movie in jake's room. the movie was quickly forgotten, jake in between your open legs as his lips moved heatedly against yours. your legs were wrapped around his waist. your shirt was lifted up, exposing your stomach.

"my gorgeous girl." he mumbled against your lips before he started kissing your neck. his hands were about to push your shirt up more when jake's door opened.

"oh shit. sorry guys." you hear sunghoon's voice, but the door was shut by the time you two looked. jake pulled away from you before running out of the room and yelling at sunghoon for his lack of knocking. once he came back, he had a pout on his face.

"baby, i'm so sorry." he apologized profusely. "i thought i locked the door. i always make sure i do."

"it's okay jake."

you watch him as he triple checked the handle to make sure the door was locked before continuing his apology. "i don't know what happened. i promise it won't happen again."

"hey jake?"

"yes?" he turned to look at you. you were still laying in the same position as before. you motioned to him with your hand.

"shut up and come kiss me."

sunghoon:

sunghoon is another member who not going to be embarrassed about getting caught. he will be similar to jake and get upset if someone saw you in a compromised position that only he was allowed to see.

it was late. the two of you had just finished dinner with the rest of the guys and were laying in bed. all it took was one comment from you for you to end up on top of him, lips pressed to his. his hands were resting on your hips- tracing circles on the exposed skin.

you had just sat up, sunghoon removing your shirt and leaving you in your bra, before kissing down sunghoon's neck. you grinded down on him causing a groan to slip past his lips when all of a sudden you were on your side. you didn't see jake open the door to sunghoon's bedroom, but he did. he pulled the blanket over you before blocking you completely from jake's view.

"do you know how to fucking knock?"

you peak around to see a red faced jake standing there. "sorry man. we were going to get ice cream and wanted to see if you two wanted any."

"clearly not."

"right." jake nodded before leaving. "sorry, yn."

"don't talk to her."

sunghoon quickly got up, pushing jake out of the room before slamming (and locking) the door. you sat up, blanket falling away from you as you watch your clearly upset boyfriend.

"i'm sorry, baby." he apologized as he made his way back to bed. "i thought i locked the door."

"its okay, hoon." you smile before reaching up and unhooking your bra before throwing it at him. "you can just make it up to me the rest of the night."

seonwoo:

this poor baby is going to be so embarrassed. he's never going to be able to face his members again. the two of you really didn't mean to. you were hanging out at the dorms, and sunoo said that all of his other members were out, leaving just you two.

it started out pg. the two of you were baking because sunoo said he wanted to try out this new cookie recipe. the cookies just went into the oven, and you were cleaning up the mess. the only issue is that sunoo looked way too good while washing dishes.

"it should be illegal for someone to look this good while washing dishes." sunoo laughed at your 'complaint.' he leaned over, kissing the pout off of your lips.

"it should be illegal for you to wear that dress, but you don't see me complaining." once sunoo had dried his hands, he pulled you into a hug- letting his hands drift to your ass and squeezing.

that was how you ended up pressed up against the counter. sunoo's lips had just left yours and were trailing heated kisses down your neck. your hands drifted in his hair, pulling slightly when he sucked a mark on your neck.

"really guys? the kitchen?" the two of you jumped when you heard riki's voice. you see him looking at the two of you with an amused look. "can't even get some water in peace around here."

you smile while apologizing, not really reacting to him catching you. sunoo, on the other hand, kept his head in your neck, refusing to look at riki while mumbling how he was never going to live this down. "i blame you for this."

"me?" you laughed, pulling away from him to get the cookies when the timer went off.

"yes you! why do you always have to look so good?" he exclaimed.

"if i look so good, can we continue what we started?" you look over at sunoo after you set the cookies down. the both of you knew that he never said no to you. he grabbed your hand, pulling you close to him.

"of course we can. just in the privacy of my room."

jungwon:

jungwon is going to be very similar to sunoo in the fact that he is going to be very embarrassed. you don't even get a chance to be embarrassed due to how embarrassed jungwon is. though he does recover faster than sunoo.

his group dance practice had ended, and he was alone in the practice room working on a solo dance. you were sitting against the mirror, holding the phone steady while recording him. your boyfriend always looked good while dancing, and today was no exception.

the song had just ended, and you stood up before handing jungwon the phone. he smiled at you before kissing you softly. "thanks for filming."

"of course." you smile, standing on your toes to kiss him again. his arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him. your arms snaked around his neck as the kiss got more heated.

he pushes you backward against the mirror before his your lips leave his. he tilts his head as you kiss down his neck. his hands squeeze your waist when you kisses a sensitive area.

"oh!" the two of you jump when you heard sunoo. his face was just as red as jungwon's as he walked over to his bag. "sorry guys. i forgot my bag."

after he grabbed the bag, he quickly ran out of the room. you stifle a laugh as your clearly embarrassed boyfriend pulled you into his arms. "are you finished? or did you want to run through the dance one more time?"

"actually, there is one more thing i want to do." he mumbled as he pulled away. you fully expected him to go back to his phone to restart the song to dance to again. instead, he turned on some random playlist before locking the door. as soon as he turn to you with a smirk, you knew exactly what he wanted to do.

"and what do you want to do?"

he motioned his head for you to come to him. "you'll have to come here and find out."

riki:

riki will try so hard to be nonchalant. he will pretend like he's not the embarrassed boy you know he is. it will last until the member leaves before he's burying his face in your neck while wishing the ground would swallow him whole.

the two of you were in the living room. the rest of the guys were scattered off doing who knows what. you were sitting in between riki's legs while the two of you played a game on the tv. you had just let out a groan when riki won at the last second. he laughed in victory as his arms tightened around you.

"another win for me."

"shut up." you grumble pushing him away from you. he tightened his arms around you. "dude, lighten your grip. i can't breathe."

"i will if you give me a kiss."

you tilt your head up, puckering your lips for him. he smiled before leaning down and kissing you. his hands drops the controller before he cups your cheeks. you smile as you pull away.

"i love you."

he smiles, pulling you into another kiss. "i love you too baby."

"what do we have here?" the two of you pull apart to see heeseung smiling at you two. "on our couch? we sit here, you know."

"how many times have we caught you and your girl on this said couch?" riki questioned with a raised eyebrow while he tried to keep his composure, but the tips of his hears turned red from embarrassment.

"touché." he held up his hands before he left the room. "use protection."

you couldn't help but laugh at the comment. riki let out a groan before hiding his face in your neck. you brush off his embarrassment, picking up the controller once again. "i want a rematch."

"no."

"no? you scared i'll win?" you question with a smirk. he lifts up his head, resting it on your shoulder. all it took was one look from him to understand what he wanted. "you want to keep going, don't you?"

"maybe." he mumbled. you let out a sigh as you pull away from him.

"come on."

[salvagemarch]

Lay It on Me

joel miller x reader

3,114 words

summary: you are absolutely smitten with joel and everything about him, specifically everything he has going on in his pants. you know it’s unrealistic to have access to him at all times, so you come up with a solution.

continuation of this blurb but can be read as a stand alone

warnings: reader literally makes a dildo in the shape of joel’s dick, female and male masturbation, unprotected piv, cowgirl, creampie, reader is unhinged, insatiable, and sex crazy but joel likes it, sort of jealous joel, my attraction to blue collar workers is kind of shining through in this…

a/n: i wrote this solely because my first ever anon requested it…this is all for you babe

To say you were pissed would be an understatement

You knew it was unfair, Joel was a busy man with a busy job and a lot of clients to make happy. But he was your man, and you deserved to be happy too.

Here you were, feeling bad for yourself after he cut your usual morning sex short because his brother needed him at work earlier than usual. You were still laying in the same spot in your shared bed, naked, sweaty, and wet, with no Joel there to help you.

Sighing, you knew you could finger yourself, use a vibrator, take a cold shower, do whatever the hell you needed to do to rid yourself of your unbearable horniness, but you didn’t want to anything but fuck Joel.

As you sulk in your bubble of sexual frustration, your mind begins to wander and you remember a friend of yours telling you about a “stupid gag gift” her boyfriend bought her for Christmas. It was some sort of diy clay kit to make a mold of his penis, and in the moment you laughed at the idea. But now, with your spread legs and your poor, unsatisfied groin, it seemed brilliant.

You grab your phone to text your friend.

“Hey, how much did that dick mold kit cost?”

“What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Joel, it’s an amazing idea! Just do it, it’ll be worth it!”

You told Joel about your genius plan as soon as he sat down to take off his work boots, which you began to regret as he looked up at you with tired eyes and a sweaty face. The regret quickly dissipated when you noticed his damp biceps and your arousal for him took over everything else.

“Don’t you want us to be closer? This is a great way for us to bond,” you sit down beside him, getting in his personal space to try and convince him to do what you wanted. It always worked.

He continued untying his boots and wiped his hands on his pants. “I already fuck you every damn day and night, how much more close can we get?” you ignore his remark to gawk at his big hands, imagining them on your body.

He sighed as he sat up to stretch his back, glancing over at you with irritated eyes. “You ain’t gonna let this go, are you?” you shake your head with a big smile.

“Jesus christ. Go get in bed, girl. I’m gonna show you I’m better than any dumb toy.”

You cum 6 times that night. It doesn’t deter you from your plan.

Two weeks pass when you get a knock on your front door, and when you open it you find what you’ve been waiting for. The kit. You yell for Joel to come down into the kitchen and when he walks in, hands dirty from wood working, you hold the box up in all its taboo glory.

“It’s beautiful,” you smile.

“It’s stupid. I can’t believe you’re makin’ me do this,” he crosses his arms and leans against the counter, watching as you open the box and glares at the big Clone-A-Willy name on the package.

“I’m not making you do anything, you’re choosing to do it because you love me.”

Joel finds himself lying on the bed with an annoyed expression and spread legs, his jeans thrown somewhere on the floor and his boxers pulled down to his ankles. You take a second to admire his pretty cock before wrapping both of your hands around it and stroking up and down to get him hard.

It really was beautiful. Almost eight inches, wide, had veins and ridges in all the right spots. It’s like his body was made just for you. You swallow down your saliva as your mouth watered.

“Okay, step one: Coat the penis in clay mixture,” you read from the instruction paper in front of you and begin spreading the mix you made earlier around Joel’s dick. His breath hitches as it hits his sensitive skin.

“Shit, you didn’t tell me it was gonna be cold! And it’s slimy, too,” he grimaced at the feel of the clay, and you had to hold back a moan as his appearance grew more disheveled. His thighs tensed and his neck strained at the discomfort, but holy hell did he look hot when he was irritated.

“Sorry, hon. I’m just following instructions,” you explain as you continue working the mixture onto his length.

He frowns at you, clearly unimpressed with your excuse. His cock twitches slightly as you continue smearing the cool, thick clay mixture along him. Despite his obvious discomfort, his cock grows harder and harder under the clay coating.

"Following instructions, huh? Those instructions are shit," he grumbles, shifting his hips restlessly on the bed. "My balls are starting to get numb here."

You bite your lip, trying to focus on the task at hand rather than how hot he looks sprawled out like this, all rugged and masculine despite the weird clay situation. His stomach rises and falls with each breath, drawing your eye to his sturdy chest.

"Almost done, baby. Just need to make sure it's fully coated," you say.

“Okay, all done. Step two: Wait for clay to dry on penis. Shouldn’t be hard at all, right? Hard? See what I did there?”

He frowns at you. The clay continues to set around his dick, creating an oddly textured surface. “You ain’t funny, smartass. No shit it shouldn't be hard. Though I guess you're doing a good job of changing that," he says wryly, nodding towards his straining erection barely contained by the stiffening clay mold.

After a few more minutes of awkwardly waiting, he sits up slowly, the clay slightly cracking and flaking off in places. “Alright, I think it's dry enough. Can I please take this thing off now? My dick feels like it's trapped in concrete."

“Be careful!” you reprimand him. “I don’t want to break. I need it all in one piece to be able to use it,” you place a hand on his stomach and push him back down, opting to take the cast off yourself. His dick grows harder.

He sighs heavily, looking exasperated by your enthusiasm. With great care, he helps you peel away the clay mold, moving slowly to avoid breaking it. As more of his dick is revealed, you can't help but lick your lips in anticipation.

"There, I got it off in one piece. Happy now?" he asks once the mold is complete, holding it up for your inspection. It's creepily similar to Joel’s length, replicating every ridge and vein in detail. He sets it aside on the nightstand before turning back to you with a raised eyebrow.

"So, uh...why exactly are you makin’ that thing anyway? Because I gotta say, this whole ordeal is pretty weird. Even for you,” he takes a tissue from the nightstand and wipes his clay covered hands, making an effort to avoid touching the clone of his penis.

“I already told you, I’m gonna use it when you’re away and I’m horny. And you know I’m always horny.”

Joel shook his head, a mix of frustration and fondness in his expression. "Yeah, I know you're horny all the time, but that doesn't mean this is the only solution. What if my brother goes snoopin’ around and sees that you have that? You know he likes the run his mouth," Joel starts overthinking. "You're gonna be the talk of the town, aint't ya? 'Did you hear Joel’s girl has a plaster replica of his cock?' Christ, the rumors will be flying," he mutters, shaking his head in disbelief.

You bite back as he spirals. “Yeah? Maybe I can use it right now if you’re so ashamed of me, let it take your spot completely.”

His smile faltered at your words. "Whoa, hold on a minute. I'm not ashamed of you, crazy girl. I just...I don't know, it's weird, okay? Seeing my own dick in a fucking mold, knowing you're gonna use it on yourself..." He trailed off.

Joel exhales shakily and runs a hand through his hair, struggling to articulate his feelings. “God knows how horny you are, and there ain’t nothin’ that makes me happier than gettin’ to take care of that whenever you need. But this...this is different. It's like you're replacing me."

Despite his hesitation, you can sense an undertone of desire in his voice. He's torn between his possessive nature, and the thrill of watching you pleasure yourself with his likeness.

You sit on your knees and scoot closer to him. “Aw, is baby jealous? You really think I’m trying to replace you?”

Joel scoffs, but there is a hint of vulnerability in his tone. “Me, jealous? Of a goddamn sex toy? Please. I'm just sayin’, this is crazy." He crosses his arms while he wallows, his cock still hard and on full display.

He pauses, seeming to take a moment and think over his next words. “I guess I have to be honest. Seein’ you touch yourself with my dick, even if it's just a copy...it is kind of hot. Knowin’ that I can make you feel good like that, even when I'm not around..."

He trails off, a flush creeping up his neck as he meets your gaze. There's an intense look in his eyes. "Just don't start expecting this to become a regular thing, okay? I'm still the one who gets to be inside you.”

You bite back a smile as Joel reassures himself, reminding you of your need for him more for his peace of mind than yours. “Of course. It’s just for when you’re unavailable, I promise.”

He nods, accepting your terms and letting his jealousy subside. A small smile plays on his lips as he takes in the sight of you eagerly eyeing the toy. “If that's what you want, go on and use it.”

He gestures towards the nightstand where the replica sits, awaiting its inaugural use. “Just don't forget whose it really is when you're done playing with it,” he says, eyeing your covered cunt.

“You wanna watch or something, perv?” you tease.

“Me? A perv? I’m just curious to how you’re gonna use the thing. ‘Sides, it’s only fair considering the fact I had to deal with having my dick covered in clay.” He leans against the headboard, crossing his arms behind his neck. “Put on a show for me. I deserve it.”

You lean forward to grab the toy off the nightstand, sitting back to look at Joel. You’ll give him a show.

As you position the clay piece between your legs, Joel’s eyes don’t leave your body once. His gaze is trained to the space hovering over the cockhead of the toy, and you can sense his arousal growing at the promise of watching you get off. “Don’t forget to stroke the real thing later,” he says, reaching down to palm himself.

You bring your bottom lip between your teeth as you begin to rub your panty covered center on the molded cock, watching Joel rub his dick. “Fuck me, why don’t ya just put it in already? I wanna see you ride that thing,” his words come off as a command but you know better, sensing the desperation beneath them. Joel was always just as horny as you were.

With a huff you toss your shorts off and pull your panties to the side, wearing nothing but them and your tank top. You fit the tip between your wet lips. “You need to be patient,” you scold him as you ease yourself onto the toy.

Joel’s free fist clenches at his side, fighting the urge to pounce and yank you onto his lap. The sight of your slick entrance welcoming the dildo into your body makes him want to moan, and the vision of you was almost too much for him to handle. “You,” he pants, “are testin’ my limits, sweetheart.”

You let yourself sink fully onto the toy, the obscene sound of your wetness filling the room and simultaneously making Joel’s actual tip leak with precum.

You breathe lowly as your eyes roll closed, spreading your legs to fully take in the feeling of the toy. The familiarity of the shape comforted you, but the inhuman smoothness to it gave you something new to explore.

The moan that leaves your lips makes Joel throb painfully, his dick begging for relief as he gawked at the sight before him. “Jesus, fuck…look at you, so damn sexy taking that thing so deep…” he wasn’t even really aware of what he was saying, letting his dirty thoughts come out of his mouth freely as he tugged on his cock.

“You like that, don’t you? Like bein’ able to have my dick buried inside you at all times?” he mumbled, continuing to stroke himself and watch you through hooded eyes, “I bet you can’t wait to cum all over it, can you?”

His words just made you whimper, encouraging you to slide up and down the toy, “Feels so good, Joel,” you leak more arousal onto the sheets below, “Love your dick so much.”

A guttural groan comes from Joel’s throat, his hips jerking involuntarily as if he was following the motion of the toy inside you. “Don’t I know it, baby,” he reaches out with his free hand, trailing his thick fingers over your thigh. “Keep goin’, work that thing in and out of ya. Show me how much you love having my cock inside of you.”

Before having sex with Joel, you didn’t think it was possible to cum in under five minutes. Now, even with a fake version of his dick, you already felt your stomach getting tighter. “So deep,” you moan out, “‘M gonna cum, Joel.”

As your climax began consuming you, Joel surged forward and planted two beefy hands on your hips, pulling you down onto the toy. The lewd squelch of your pussy gripping onto the mold filled the room, punctuated by your moans growing in pitch and Joel’s words of praise.

“That’s it, cum for me,” he grumbles. “Let go, baby, Give that thing everything you got.

His grip on your hips tighten, his fingers digging into your soft flesh as he helped you piston up and down. The toy plunged in and out of your dripping cunt, making you whimper loudly as you gushed around it. Joel tugged you down, hard, one final time as he held you in place and grinded you against the base of the dildo.

As you rode out the aftershocks, Joel held your shaking form against his body and stroked your hand gently, shushing you as you came down from your high.

“Will you fuck me now?”

Joel breathed out exasperatedly. “First, you make me sit through having my dick turned into a sex toy, and now you’re askin’ to fuck me after cumming on said sex toy?” Despite his shock, Joel knew he wanted to give your body as many orgasms as it could handle. He eyes his own crotch, knowing he was still hard.

“I suppose I should give you somethin’ in return for that performance…” he trailed off before grabbing your body as if it weighed nothing and laid back on the bed, sitting up against the headboard. “Come on, up ya go. Show me what you’ve got.”

You smile breathlessly, still feeling your walls twitch and clench around nothing. You throw your legs over his waist and sit right over his cock.

Joel slides his hands up your thighs to your hips, grasping them and sliding you onto his tip. “Fuck, baby, you’re so wet,” your previous orgasm still drips from between your thighs. His hands moved to grip your ass cheeks, pushing you to sink down. You both gasped and groaned as you took his length in, Joel thrusting up to meet your downward motion.

“That’s it, honey,” he encouraged, “Use me however you want. Jus’ don’t stop.”

He loses himself in the feeling of you bouncing above him, the weight of your breasts pushing against his chest and your moans like a bird song to his ears. You whimper and rest your hands on his strong shoulders, finally having his dick back in you after fucking the replica. Nothing is better than the real thing.

“Love your cock so much, Joel. So perfect for me,” you praise him mindlessly, letting your horny brain do all the talking as his dick filled every space inside your pussy.

He slid his hands up your torso while you rode him, letting his thumbs hike your shirt up to reveal your breasts. He moved one hand down to steady your hip, and used his other to reach for your tits, taking turns to palm each of them softly. “You are so fuckin’ sexy like this,” he groaned out, “Can’t believe I get to call this body mine.”

Your moans turn into full on whines, letting Joel consume you entirely as your second orgasm began forming. You rolled your hips downwards, letting his dick fill you as deep as it could as your slick walks gripped him tightly.

“I’m cumming again, Joel,” you warn, sliding up and down. Despite your words, Joel makes no move to stop you, his body surrendering to yours.

“Go ahead, baby, get it nice and wet for me,” he murmurs, his voice thick and heavy with desire. You comply as Joel moves his hand from your breast to your clit, rubbing circles on it with his fingers. You clench around him before your ears start to ring, finishing with loud whimpers.

With renewed urgency, Joel grips your hips and bucks up into you, the force of his thrusts rocking your body and making the bed creak. His balls draw up tight against you, and with a powerful thrust, he buries his face into your neck and lets out grunts into your ear. You feel him cumming inside of you, feel it spilling out of you as he gives slower thrusts. Your tiny whimpers of satisfaction fill the room as he pants, wrapping his arms fully around your torso and bringing you with him down against the bed. He feels something nudging his back, but he ignores it as you move over to nuzzle into his chest.

The both of you catch your breath together, basking in contentedness and the warmth of each other’s sweaty bodies.

Suddenly, Joel’s body jolts up when he hears a blood curdling scream coming from beside him on the bed.

“YOU LAID ON MY DILDO!”

[heartswithinreach]

your post about sylus essentially conditioning the reader to sit on his lap hasjsakddf that was so perfect and in character 😭 i love it sm its given me so much brain rot - how bout this:

can i request the lads boys reaction to the reader randomly asking to be carried/picked up in the middle of walking? for no other reason just to see how'd they react lol

LaDS casually carrying MC

Xavier

The most casual. He just smiles at you and asks, "Bridal or piggyback?" in the same tone as if he's asking what you want to eat.

And he's not just playing along. He means it. He wants to be the one you lean on — metaphorically and literally.

You can try and backtrack but then you'll get those eyes. The bluest puppy dog eyes that can break the strongest of wills. "Are you sure? We still have a few blocks to go to the café, I don’t want you to get tired..."

You feel like you're holding out on him by not letting him carry you. The mind tricks this man is capable of to get what he wants are ridiculous.

You fold embarrassingly fast and Xavier is happy as can be with you on his back, your arms and legs around him like a full-body embrace. He can see the tactical advantage to carrying you like this during missions, too.

Rafayel

"You want me to carry you?“ Rafayel scoffs. “What if I pulled a muscle in my arm and couldn't draw for a week? No thank you!"

He refuses until you ask if it's not that he doesn't want to carry you, but that he can't.

Now you've wounded his pride. He might not be the God of the Sea anymore, but he can't let this go unanswered! Rafayel will be on you relentlessly to let him pick you up, no matter how long it takes.

"Whoa, be careful, cutie! There's no telling how deep these puddles are from all the rain — you're super lucky your boyfriend is here to carry you to safety."

When you finally break and let him do it just so he can prove a point, he realizes he likes this way more than he thought he would. You're like his adorable little prisoner and the only way you're getting out is in praise and smooches. This will become a regular thing, I fear.

Zayne

“I told you to wear more comfortable shoes.”

Zayne inwardly grins at how quickly you deflate at his blunt response. It's adorable.

But Zayne has a hard time denying you something so innocent as wanting to be close to him. So he guides your arm to wrap around his shoulders and picks you up with a strength that always takes you by surprise.

He waits for you to settle comfortably in his arms before he starts walking. He's aware of the disapproving stares from the people around you and not too long ago, he would've been one of them. How quickly his perspective has changed because of you.

Zayne is brought out of his thoughts when he feels you peck his cheek and now you get that oh so familiar look of gentle reproach from him. "I am working on being more affectionate but I'm not there yet, MC. Now, behave or your ride will end early."

Sylus

Sylus is so caught off guard that, for once, you can see his entire thought process play out through his expressions.

Surprise at your request, suspicion you're just toying with him, the realization you're being somewhat serious, and then the most gratified look you've ever seen on his stupid smug face.

Now you’re speaking his language. So delighted you’re finally catching on, he just picks you up and continues on his way without breaking his stride.

However, you didn't specify how he should carry you. So you're draped over Sylus's shoulder and to keep you there, his hand is dangerously high up on your thigh for being in public. The smack on your ass is so inevitable, you can feel it like it's already happened.

"You just said you were tired, now you want me to put you down? You need to learn to make up your mind, kitten. I'll just carry you until you're sure of what you want."

[nochepsicodelica]

"Good morning, baby," you greet, disrupting the early morning stillness that Toji had immersed himself in. You stand behind him, wrap your arms around his shoulders, and lean in to pepper a barrage of kisses on his temple.

Toji uses his fork to cut out a bite of his little pancake stack for you and brings it up to your mouth. The smell of breakfast suffocates the kitchen and already had you salivating the second you left the bedroom, so without hesitation, you take the bite and savor. Savor the sweetness of the syrup he doused his pancakes in and the buttery softness of the texture.

"God, you're amazing," you say, muffled by the food in your mouth. You swallow the bite before leaning in to press a few more sticky kisses on his cheek. "I love you."

Toji chuckles at your clear, genuine appreciation. "What's got you in such a good mood this morning?" He doesn't say it like he's starved of good mornings from you, more like he just wants to know what is so great about this one.

"I don't know. I'm rested and it's early." You exhale, lips curling contently. "We should go on a walk—no, a run. And then after--"

"Baby, sit," Toji instructs, pushing the chair beside him back with his foot. "That's for you," he says, nodding at the plate of breakfast he fixed for you on the center of the table. "No coffee, 'cause you clearly don't need it," he says, pulling your mug in his direction.

"But, but... Toji, please!"

"No," he responds, grinning smugly before taking a sip of his caffeinated delight, like he's mocking you.

"I'm gonna crash out, baby," you warn. "And it's gonna be a bad morning. The floor is gonna crack open and we're gonna be able to see straight down all the way to hell."

"How 'bout some orange juice?" He suggests, attempting to calm you down before you throw your overdramatized, premeditated fit.

You hum, thinking for a few seconds. "Mm... no, I want coffee. Look, you prepared it just the way I like it and it's right there," you say, pointing at the full mug. Toji doesn't look because he knows he did exactly that.

"I didn't. I put a fuck ton of creamer in it. You wouldn't like it," he lies. "Let's get you some juice, yeah?"

With a sigh and a defeated look in your eyes, you nod. "Okay."

"There we go." A soft smile plays on his lips. "I got it," he murmurs, getting up from his chair. He places a kiss on the top of your head before continuing on to the little kitchen area to grab the orange juice bottle from the fridge and then a glass from the cupboard. The second he sets the glass and bottle down on the counter, he sees you, not so sneakily reaching for the mug of coffee.

You're trying so hard to chug the hot coffee, burning your tongue and lips. His footsteps only make you more nervous as they get closer but you try to drink even more. Your eyes grow glassier from withstanding the burning sensation on your tastebuds.

"Whatcha doing?" He asks, gently pulling the mug away from your lips before taking it out of your hands. You don't even try to hold onto it, handing it over without a fight. A satisfied sigh leaves you, like you were parched and those scorching sips of coffee were a nice glass of water.

"It's really good," you utter, licking the sweet remnants off your lips. "Which is conflicting because the coffee was made by a liar."

Toji rolls his eyes, but the amused grin that makes it's way onto his face is inevitable. "What are you talking about now, ma?"

"You said you put too much creamer in it, but it was perfect—as always. Let me have the rest of it, yeah?"

"No. I'll put it in the fridge and you can have it cold later. You have enough energy right now," he says.

"Why did you get to have coffee?" You argue.

"'Cause I woke up a little earlier to make the breakfast that's getting cold right in front of you," he bites back.

You roll up one of the pancakes on your plate and take a big bite out of it, turning to him with puffed up cheeks.

"Thank you. Happy?" You mumble, wishing you had that cup of juice to wash down your food.

"You're welcome, and yes," he says, leaning forward to peck your overstuffed cheek, before heading back to the kitchen to pour that cup of juice for you. He catches the way you make grabby hands at the mug, and utters a simple "no" as he keeps walking.

The juice is poured out, the juice bottle and your forbidden coffee in the fridge, and Toji is finally making his way back to you.

"Here." The cup is set down beside your plate and Toji takes his seat, again.

"It's so good," you mumble, through bites of food.

"Yeah?" Toji responds, wiping a crumb of pancake from the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

"Mhm, it's a lot, though."

"You're just used to your itty bitty portions. That's a good serving right there, so you're gonna finish the whole thing."

"Yes, sir, Mr. President, sir!" you say, with mock seriousness, expression and all, before continuing to chow down.

"God, you're such a dork sometimes," he mutters under his breath. Still, the edges of his lips turn upward as he picks up his fork again.

You talk about everything and nothing. Lunch and dinner are planned out together, while you occasionally utter compliments about how good the food he made is.

"How did you even learn to make this?" You ask, taking a sip of your orange juice.

"Memorized your movement," Toji responds, casually. He didn't expect your face to light up the way it did, in such a precious manner. It's almost as if he made you shy with the revelation.

"What? You know how often I'm around while you cook?"

"Almost every time," you answer, with a giggle. "Clinging to me like a koala."

"Exactly," he says, shamelessly. "So... are you impressed or what?"

"Mhm," you hum, taking the final bite of your breakfast. "Very much so," you assure, locking eyes with him as he takes the final bite of his meal.

"So impressed that I get a fat smooch for my hard work?"

"Yes, please," you say, all too eagerly, causing the table to shake and the tableware to clatter slightly.

It's one of the things Toji loves most about you—how excited you get over the simplest things. It's as if you're about to start bouncing off the walls over some kisses. "Then, come here," he commands.

You almost knock over your glass of juice and his coffee mug from how quickly you stand up and make your way to him. Toji barely has time to drag his chair back to make room for you on his lap before you plop down on him and make yourself comfortable. He thinks you're going straight for his lips, and he's ready to feel the softness of your own against them, but you take your time and savor. Savor the way he hums when you leave a trail of kisses on his jaw and how he squeezes your hip as you greedily riddle the rest of his face with more.

"Can I buy you one of those 'Kiss the cook' aprons?" You murmur into his ear, biting his earlobe after.

A small groan accompanies his chuckle as you continue nibbling on his ear. "Depends... is there a limit or will I be spoiled?"

"You know the answer to that," you respond, letting him pull you in even closer.

"Tell meee," he grumbles, against your cheek, luring an amused chime of laughter from you.

"That apron will become a kiss magnet," you say through unrestrained giggles, withstanding the quick burst of pecks he scatters along your cheek, until he reaches the corner of your lips. "Instead of--" you're cut off by a direct, chaste peck to your lips, but pick up again immediately after. "Instead of saying 'oh shit, where's the salt?' while we're cooking, i'm gonna say 'oh shit, where's my handsome bobansome? Gotta give him a fat smooch.'"

He chuckles, something low and comforting to your ears. It's the sound equivalent of having warm soup belly on a cold, cold day.

"You're crazy, mama," he responds.

"Mhm," you hum. "So, can I order the apron or...?"

"Fine. Gimme-"

"Yay!- Oh sorry," you mumble, earning an irrepressible snicker from Toji, as you lean in to give him the fat smooch you promised him.

-

A week later, the apron is finally delivered and it's nearly impossible for you to contain your excitement. You giggle to yourself as you scurry back to the bedroom, where Toji is sprawled out on the bed, like a sunbathing cat about to fall asleep.

"Baby! Baby, baby, look," you call, enthusiastically, unfolding the black apron. It says 'Kiss The Cook' in bold, white lettering, and it has a single, red kiss print to add a dash of color. Toji merely cranes his neck to look at what you're fussing about, and when he sees the item you so proudly hold in your hands, he instantly turns away with a lazy grin and a shake of his head before letting his eyes fall shut, again.

[harrysfolklore]

lily - but daddy i love him

summary: max verstappen and yn wolff welcome their first baby into the world. READ BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM HERE. wc:1.6k

folkie radio: GUYS I JUST COULDN'T HELP MYSELF OKAY !!! i love the bdilh babies so much and i missed writing about them and this was just the perfect opportunity. i hope you like this!

MASTERLIST | MY PATREON

The hospital room is quiet now, the chaos of delivery replaced by a peaceful calm. Early morning light filters through the windows of your private suite in Monaco, casting a gentle glow over the tiny bundle in your arms.

Lily Verstappen-Wolff, all of six hours old, has her father's eyes. They're that same impossible shade of blue, currently studying your face with what seems like intense concentration.

"She's got your nose though," Max whispers from where he's perched beside you on the bed, one arm around your shoulders, the other gently stroking Lily's impossibly small hand. "Thank god."

"Hey," you protest weakly, too exhausted and happy to really be offended. "Your nose is cute."

"Tell that to the aerodynamics team," he laughs softly, then goes quiet when Lily makes a tiny sound. "Sorry, princess. Didn't mean to be loud."

The way Max looks at her makes your heart feel too big for your chest. He's been crying on and off since she arrived, the four-time world champion, known for his fierce determination on track, completely undone by five pounds of baby girl.

A soft knock at the door interrupts your moment. Your father peers in, and you've never seen him look quite like this - his usual composed demeanor completely cracked open, eyes shining with tears.

"Is it... can I..." he starts, unusually lost for words.

"Come meet your granddaughter, Papa."

Toto approaches slowly, as if Lily might startle. When he sees her face, he completely breaks down, tears flowing freely now.

"She's perfect," he whispers, touching her cheek with one finger. His hand is trembling slightly. "She's absolutely perfect."

"Want to hold her?" Max offers, already carefully lifting Lily.

You watch as your father - the intimidating Mercedes team principal who's made grown men cower - cradles your daughter like she's made of glass. He hasn't stopped crying, and it makes your own eyes well up.

"Hallo, kleine Prinzessin," he whispers, his voice trembling. "I'm your Opa." He gently rocks her, studying every feature of her tiny face. "You know, I've won many championships, seen many incredible moments in racing, but nothing... nothing compares to this moment right here."

He touches her tiny hand with one finger, and when she grabs it, a fresh wave of tears falls. "Such a strong grip already. Just like your mama - always holding on tight to what matters."

Max wraps his arm around your shoulders as you watch your father completely melt.

"I promise you, Lily," Toto continues softly, "that you will always have someone in your corner. Someone to protect you, to guide you..." he chuckles wetly, "to teach you all about racing politics and team strategy."

"Papa," you laugh. "She's six hours old."

"Never too early to learn about the importance of good strategy," he says, but his eyes never leave Lily's face. "Although maybe we'll start with simpler things. Like how to wrap your papa around your little finger - though I see you've already mastered that."

Max grins. "Like mother, like daughter."

Toto shifts Lily slightly, cradling her closer to his chest. "You know, meine Kleine, I thought I knew what love was. Thought I understood it completely. But seeing you..." his voice cracks, "seeing my little girl become a mother... holding you..." He has to pause, overwhelmed. "You're going to change everything, aren't you? Just like your mama did."

You reach out and squeeze his arm, your own tears falling freely now.

"Papa?" you ask softly after a moment. "Who else is out there?"

"Just Lewis," he manages, still gazing at Lily. "But we don't want to intrude..."

You exchange a look with Max, who grins and nods.

"Are you kidding?" you laugh. "Get him in here. He needs to meet his goddaughter."

"I'll get him," Max says, kissing your forehead before heading to the door.

Moments later, Lewis appears, looking uncharacteristically nervous. When he sees Lily in Toto's arms, his face does something complicated before crumpling entirely.

"Oh my god," he whispers, moving closer. "Oh my god, look at her."

"Want to hold her?" your father offers, though he looks reluctant to let go.

Lewis nods, unable to speak. When Toto places Lily in his arms, he lets out a shaky breath that turns into a sob.

"Hey baby girl," he manages through tears. "I'm your Uncle Lewis. I'm... I'm going to spoil you so much. And teach you everything about racing. And protect you forever."

"Lewis," you say softly, touched by how emotional he is.

"I can't help it," he sniffles, swaying gently with Lily. "Look at her. She's... she's perfect. She's got your smile already, Little Wolff. And Max's eyes..."

He looks up at Max, who's watching from beside your bed. "You did good, man. Really good."

Max wipes at his own eyes. "We did, didn't we?"

"The best," Lewis agrees, looking back down at Lily. "God, I'm never going to stop crying, am I?"

"Join the club," your father says, still wiping his eyes.

"You know what this means though?" Lewis says suddenly, a mischievous glint appearing through his tears. "As godfather, I get to buy her her first race suit."

"Ferrari colors, I assume?" Max raises an eyebrow.

"Obviously."

"Over my dead body, Hamilton."

"Boys," you warn, but you're smiling. Some things never change.

"We'll let her choose," Lewis decides diplomatically, then adds in a whisper to Lily, "But red would look really good on you, princess."

You watch them - these three strong, competitive men, all completely undone by your tiny daughter. Your father has his hand on Lewis' shoulder, both of them looking at Lily like she's the most precious thing they've ever seen. Max sits beside you again, pulling you close as you all watch Lewis whisper promises to your daughter.

"Welcome to the family, little one," Lewis says softly. "You've got quite the crew looking out for you."

Lily makes a tiny sound and grabs Lewis' finger, making him burst into fresh tears.

"Oh, she's got a good grip," he laughs through his tears. "Future world champion material right there."

"First female world champion," Max says proudly. "Right, princess?"

After several more minutes of Lewis making promises to Lily about racing lessons and future championships, your father gently reminds him that you need rest.

"Just one more minute," Lewis pleads, still cradling Lily like she might disappear.

"Lewis," your father says fondly, "they'll still be here tomorrow."

"And the next day, and the next," you add with a smile. "She's not going anywhere."

Finally, reluctantly, Lewis places Lily back in your arms, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "Love you already, little champ."

Your father hugs you carefully, mindful of Lily, then surprises everyone by pulling Max into a tight embrace. "You did good, son," he says softly, and you see Max's eyes well up again.

After they leave, the room falls into a peaceful quiet. Max settles beside you on the bed, his arm around your shoulders, both of you gazing down at your daughter.

"Hi baby girl," he whispers, gently stroking her cheek. "It's just us now."

Lily's tiny hand escapes her blanket, reaching up to grab Max's finger. His breath catches.

"Still can't believe she's real," he murmurs. "That we made her. That she's actually here."

You adjust the soft yellow hat on her head. "Remember when we had to hide from everyone?"

"Couldn't even hold your hand in public," Max laughs softly. "And now we have her."

"And now we have her."

Lily makes a tiny sound, drawing both your attention immediately. Her eyes - so impossibly blue - seem to focus on Max's face.

"Hey princess," he whispers, voice thick with emotion. "I know I probably look scary right now, crying all over the place. But I promise I'm usually more put together than this. Usually. Unless I'm around your mama. She tends to make me emotional too."

"Softie," you tease gently.

"Only for my girls," he admits without hesitation.

You watch as he carefully takes Lily from you, cradling her against his chest with a natural ease that makes your heart ache. The contrast of his strong hands - hands that have controlled the most powerful cars in the world - being so impossibly gentle with her tiny body is almost too much.

"I had this whole speech prepared," he says suddenly. "All these things I was going to tell her when she arrived. About racing, about life, about how much we wanted her. But now..." he looks down at Lily, who's watching him with what seems like intense concentration, "now I just want to tell her that I love her. That I've loved her since the moment we knew about her. That I'll love her forever."

"I think that's all she needs to know," you say softly, leaning against him.

"You know what's crazy?" Max adjusts Lily's blanket with careful precision. "All those championships, all those wins... nothing compares to this. To her. To us."

You watch them together - your fierce, passionate husband gone completely soft for this tiny person who's barely six hours old. The way he keeps checking her blanket, the gentle sway he's adopted without seeming to realize it, the look of pure wonder on his face every time she moves.

"I love you," you say suddenly, overwhelmed by everything. "Both of you. So much."

Max tears his gaze away from Lily to look at you, and the emotion in his eyes takes your breath away. "We love you too," he whispers. "Right, princess? We love Mama so much."

Lily snuggles closer to his chest in response, her tiny hand still gripping his finger.

Outside, the world keeps turning. Soon there will be visitors and photos and congratulations. Soon you'll have to share her with the rest of your extended F1 family. Soon there will be decisions about races and schedules and how to balance everything.

But right now, in this quiet room with the morning sun painting everything gold, there's just this: your little family, complete at last. Max humming softly in Dutch, Lily drifting off to sleep in his arms, and you, watching the two loves of your life together.

Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

[frombookstoretobookstore]

A Teaching Moment

Abbot x Wife!Reader Summary: When Abbot's wife tries to sneak in with a small medical emergency, some of the doctors of the ED decide to use it as a teaching moment. Of course, Abbot finds out his wife is in the ER and he's none too happy. Tw: Blood, stitches, Walsh teasing Abbot. Masterlist

“Ow, ow, ow, still ow!” Y/n says as Robby laughs quietly as he continues to clean the various cuts on her hand.

“You want the good news or the bad news?’ He asks, hands on his hips as he looks up at his friend from the stool he’s sitting on.

“I’d love for you to just finish this up so I can go the hell home!” She says exasperated.

“Good news, you only need two stitches.”

“The bad news Robert; spit it out.” She says, her eyes narrowing.

“Dana might be looking for your husband to let him know you’re here.” Robby says apologetically, pulling her hand back to inspect it for any other pieces of glass. He grips her wrist as she falls back with a groan.

“What part of ‘I may need a few stitches please be discreet’, did you not fucking get?” She’s gritting her teeth against the pain as Robby continues flushing the wounds out.

Before he can apologize, Abbot’s ripping the curtain aside; his chest heaving and a bewildered look on his face. He rushes forward, taking Y/n’s face in his hands.

“What happened? Are you ok? Dana said you…” His panicked stream of words is cut off as Dana leans against the wall in the entryway to interrupt him.

“Dana said his wife had lost a battle with a glass vase and was perfectly fine and wouldn’t even need any stiches. I even mentioned how smart she was to come into the ED to make sure she was fine.” Dana says in the third person, rolling her eyes as Abbot continues to fidget over his wife.

Y/n bats his hands away. “Oh my god I swear I’m fine, the vase shattered, and I tried to catch it before it hit the floo- the fuck Robby!” She swears and hisses as Robby injects lidocaine to numb her hand before adding a few stitches.

“Pinch and some burning.” Robby says as he starts stitching two smaller cuts on her thumb. He chuckles softly when he can feel the ‘no shit’ look he’s getting from Y/n. He looks to Abbot who is still standing with a panicked look on his face.

“Scratch that, she’ll need two stitches, why don’t you go check in with your gremlins while I finish up here, hm?” He shoots Abbot a look and the vet glares back. He presses a kiss to the side of his wife’s head.

“You’re stitching up my wife and you think I’m going to just walk away? You’re so very funny.” He jokingly sneers at his friend.

Just as Abbot is about to sit, intent on staying with his wife before he clocks in for his shift, when Dr. Walsh strides in with the med students in tow.

Abbot groans and sits down heavily on a rolling stool to the right of his wife, his gaze on the ceiling.

“And here you can see a great misuse of company resources. Two senior attendings, one of which isn’t even clocked in, and our charge nurse all on one, simple, stitch up.” She’s beaming as the med students cluster into the small trauma room, clearly confused on why they’re being dragged into this.

Abbot groans and lays his head on the bed, trying his best to will himself not to crash out at this woman.

“And here we see a wonderful surgeon who has clocked in for her nightshift and is misusing her time parading around exhausted med students. Hi Walsh.” Y/n is swaying her feet side to side as they’re propped up on the exam table she’s been sat up in.

“Y/n here is the lovely partner of our brooding Dr. Abbot.” Dana says with a smirk. “And she’s been nice enough to stress out her husband by hurting herself before his shift to join us at the ER.” Abbot groans from where he has his head down. He props it up on his hand and fixes Walsh with a glare the med students find off-putting. 

“Send the ducklings home Robby, I can handle it from here.” Y/n says, picking up some gauze to wrap her hand from the metal tray next to him. “All of you go home, shows over.” She raises an eyebrow.

“You heard her, go.” Abbot waves his hands, prompting the med students to scatter out the door.

“You need to stop scaring the med students, they’ll be on your shift soon enough.” Roby laughs, Abbot shooting him a look.

“Oh please,” Abbot says as he stands. “Y/n has practically adopted them already.”

“Alright, you know the drill. And I doubt he’ll let you forget anything.” Robby laughs as Abbot studies his stiches.

“She won’t be lifting a finger. Better yet, she’ll be reduced to bed rest until her stitches come out and she’s consulted with ortho.” Abbot’s stare remains serious as his wife scoffs as she stands from the exam chair.

“It’s a flesh wound, not an open fracture.” She’s rolling her eyes, Abbot already fretting over her standing so soon after her trauma. “Jack Henry Abbot, I am not taking a wheelchair, I can walk back to the car just fine.”

Robby can’t help but laugh as he exits the room to head home. He leaves his friend to fret over his wife.

“You drove here?!” Abbot says, his eyes wide.

“It was a smattering of a few small cuts!”

“You could have bled out!”

“I couldn’t have bled out if I tried!”

“What if you threw a clot?”

“I’m going to pretend we aren’t having this conversation anymore and go home.” Y/n starts to leave but Abbot isn’t done with her.

He catches her arm gently, his grip firm enough to halt her without causing any pain. “Y/n, please. Just give me a minute. I need to know you're going to take care of yourself.”

Y/n sighs but softens slightly at the pleading look on Abbot's face. “I promise, Jack. I'll take it easy. Bed rest, no lifting, no sudden movements.” She lays a hand on his chest. He smiles and lifts her bandaged hand to his lips, pressing a small kiss to her knuckles.

“Maybe if you behave tonight, I’ll let you take out my stitches when it's time. If not, I’m letting one of the med students do it.” She laughs and presses a kiss to the side of his mouth before making her way towards the exit to the parking lot.

“You wouldn’t dare.” He yells after her, unable to stop the smirk on his face.

“Try me!” She hollers back as she steps out into the night. ___________________________________________ A/N: I'm working on so many pieces right now, a few requests, and possibly (possibly) a Pope Cody fic. As always I appreciate any feedback!

[revolutionsingingintherainnn]

can I request ‘accidentally calling the other wife/husband’ for lando please 🥹

girlfriend? wife? ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩

Prompt: 63. accidentally calling the other wife/husband

𓆉 ln x reader 𐙚

𓆉 fluff 𐙚

masterlist ☾☼

1. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧˚.

just as the car reached the hotel, lando immediately held your hand. there were crowds of people on both sides, restricted by a barricade.

"you know what to do, right?" he asked you, softly.

"yes, lovie. we've done this hundreds of times before," you replied, unable to keep the smile hidden.

"i know, i know. i just worry. ever since my tiktok started showing me all those videos of celebrities getting attacked, i've been paranoid,"

"i'm aware. you forget, though, that you're the celebrity,"

lando tsked, "half the time, these people talk to me about you. the only reason they're fans of me is because of you,"

you laughed, and lando opened the door, stepping out. you followed. immediately, you walked inside the hotel with your head down, and watched lando from inside the safety of the hotel.

lando was taking his time and signing whatever was getting shoved in his face, smiling and interacting with a few of the fans as well. he took selfies, marvelled at the nail art that some of them had done, had brief discussions about tattoo designs for the fan. he loved it.

somewhere between the cheers of the fans, lando looked at the hotel entrance, searching for you. when he couldn't see you, he pouted, whispering to himself, "where's my wifey?"

the fans nearby heard him, and began cheering louder. lando's eyes widened as he realised his mistake.

well, fuck.

2. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧˚.

they had another mini break after singapore. the team were all gathered at the mtc, just reviewing the past few races, and discussing what they were planning for the upcoming races.

zak and andrea had given speeches, as were expected, and then oscar and lando were called on stage as well.

oscar gave his speech first, though, it was just him thanking the team, andrea, zak, and lando, and how he was grateful for all their help in hungary and baku especially.

then, it was lando's turn.

"i think, oscar summed it up pretty well, actually. nothing left for me to say."

people laughed.

"um, yeah, no, i'm really thankful for all the hardwork that every person in this room has done. i mean, like oscar said, it wouldn't have been possible with any of y'all. our wins are yours, because really, we just go out and drive. everything else is all you," he said, gesturing to the room full of people.

"and, while i am so happy to be able to work with all of you, i really need to give special mentions to andrea, zak, oscar, jon, my mechanics, my wife-"

the crowd burst out in teasing "ooohs" and lando slapped a hand over his eyes as he laughed.

"we're not married yet. i keep doing that. we're not married yet. besides, when we get married, i'd call all of you. most of you. some. no, all." lando broke off again, as the crowd laughed.

he turned towards his girlfriend, and said, "babe, i've made a commitment now. we gotta have a huge wedding,"

everyone laughed again, including you.

"i'm gonna go bankrupt with so many people at the wedding,"

people continued laughing.

"how about this, the reception would be from mclaren?" zak said, wrapping an arm around lando's shoulders as he laughed.

"oh, how nice of you, zak,"

"no! it's gonna be all papaya! i'm not getting married in papaya colours!" you shouted from the side, smiling.

"huh? it's gonna be all papaya? well, babe, we gotta make sacrifices here," lando said.

the laughs of everyone mixed together, and eventually, lando composed himself enough to continue his speech.

3. ˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧˚.

max was streaming on twitch. he wasn't doing anything in particular, really. he was just there, chatting with the chat, but mostly talking to lando who was sprawled on the bed behind him.

niran was on his way to max's apartment, and max and lando were just patiently waiting for their friend.

max began reading some of the comments in the chat, and responding, when one of them caught his eye.

"who is lando texting so angrily?" max read out loud. he turned and looked at his friend, who was still quickly typing on his phone.

"mate, who are you texting?" max asked, watching lando's concentrated face.

"the wifey," lando mumbled.

immediately, max turned to the chat and said, "he's not married! he's a dumbass who gets words mixed up! they're still only dating!"

"huh?" lando looked up, confused.

"you called her your wife." max explained.

lando groaned, "it keeps happening, i don't even know why,"

"right, cause that makes so much sense. what are you fighting with her about anyway?" he asked.

lando looked at his friend, confused, "we're not fighting,"

"then why do you look so mad?"

"do i? we were just planning our trip next month, and i was focused on that," lando revealed.

"that makes sense. do y'all fight though?"

lando's attention was back at his phone as he began typing again, "no. i do something stupid, she yells at me, i apologise,"

"what if she does something stupid?" max asked.

lando looked up from his phone, and the two best friends stare at each other for a few seconds before they burst out laughing. lando rolled on the bed as he laughed, and max fell off his chair.

the chat buzzed, trying to figure out what was so funny, but max and lando couldn't stop laughing.

"what if she does something stupid? oh, max, that was the funniest shit you've ever said," lando laughed.

"i knew it the moment i said it," max responded through his laughter.

"the only stupid thing she does is me," lando said, calming down a little.

"oh, for fuck's sake, lando!" max yelled at him, making him dissolve into laughter again.

+

˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧˚.

lando was sweating, his cap on his head was hiding the mess that his curls had become. he ran a hand through his face to wipe off the excess sweat as he paid attention to the question.

"so, lando, first pole position of the season in the very first race. how do you feel about that?" the interviewer asked.

"um, i mean, i feel good about it, obviously. seems like a good start, honestly, and the car is working beautifully, so i have no complaints there. it all just comes down to me, really," he said, grabbing his water bottle.

"that's good to here. do you think you'll be able to win tomorrow?"

"that's- uh, that's hard to say. i mean, we've got competition from both ferraris, and then there's max and george, who are also excellent drivers, so its hard to say. our goal for today was a pole, and our goal for tomorrow is a podium, if not a win,"

"right. and, who do we have with you as a support for the first race of the season?" the interviewer took a lighter tone, and lando immediately smiled.

"i've got my family here, a few of my friends who could come down here, and i've got my girlfriend," he responded.

"that's beauti-"

"no, wait. my wife. my girlfriend. no, my wife, my wife. i've been so used to calling her my girlfriend in public and my wife in my head that i keep getting them mixed up," lando laughed, holding his left hand up where his wedding ring glimmered.

"oh yes! you got married at the start of this year!"

"yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. finally married her, and then got her to sign the license. burned it the next day so there's no way she can divorce me now. we're stuck together for life," lando said, making the interviewer laugh.

"it's a beautiful wedding band," the interviewer complimented.

lando put his hand up again, showing the ring to the camera, "right? she picked it. she has amazing taste in stuff like this, i can't even tell you. she's just perfect, man,"

"alright, well, it's nice to see you in such good spirits! crush it tomorrow, yeah?" the interviewer said.

"for her? anything," lando said, scoffing, as if the mere thought of him not doing anything for his wife was just plain stupid.

the interviewer laughed again, as lando walked away.

𓇼🐚☾☼🦪

honestly, one of my favourite things i've ever written. i hope i've done justice to the prompt, anon! this is my prompt list, so y'all can select a number, give me a driver and i will write it as soon as possible! i also have a google form for a taglist if anyone's interested! you can sent in your requests here :)

taglist: @imlonelydontsendhelp ; @greantii ; @anamiad00msday ; @maketheshadowsfearyou ; @nocturnalherb16 ; @justaf1girl ; @peterholland04

i'd love your support! https://ko-fi.com/kavi2305

[ilikerafayelwaytoomuch]

How the LADS men react to their gf showing physical affection, who is a bit scared to show affection

A/N: a post with all the lads boys this time...hopefully I did them justice

Tags/warnings: she/her pronouns used (should i try using gender neutral terms?), s/o has a little fear of vulnerability (can you see a pattern haha), s/o in raf's may be a bit too specific (she is described to have a passion for music), fluff <3

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Rafayel 

Music softly filled the living room of the artist's house. A classic played, one of Beethoven's symphonies. Rafayel always experimented painting with different music playing, seeing what emotions it could evoke. His girlfriend loved that about him, as she had a passion for music. She smiled softly as she stood in the hallway. Rafayel sat on a stool, his back to her, an easel and canvas in front of him, a brush slowly moving across it. Y/n didn't want to interrupt, really. But a recent breakdown has caused the couple to have a conversation and she promised she would try to be more vulnerable with him. Even though it scared her. She wanted to start small. Right now she really really wanted a hug from her boyfriend. That shouldn't be too much to ask. 

Nervously, she made her way into the room and approached Rafayel. She hesitated for a moment, but continued. “Cutie?” Rafayel questioned, hearing footsteps, but not turning to look or stop his painting. Y/n said nothing and waited for his brush to finish the stroke before nervously wrapping her arms around him, placing her head onto his back. She felt extremely embarrassed. There was no reason to. This was Rafayel. Her Rafayel. Her boyfriend. The man let out a soft gasp in surprise and tensed up. “Wha- you-” he spluttered. 

“Wan’ a hug,” she mumbled into his back. It took Rafayel a moment to process, not used to the sudden display of affection from his lover. When his brain began to work again, his heart soared. He placed his pallet and brush down before turning around and wrapping his arms around her, squeezing her almost too much with a happy giggle. “Mmm. What should I do? This painting has to be done by tomorrow, but my baby needs my cuddles,” he sighed. Y/n tried to back away, not wanting to harm his work. Her ears still burned with embarrassment and she was sure her face matched. Maybe this was all a bad idea. Rafayel wouldn't let her break away, pulling her closer. 

“Sorry, I'll-” she began, but was interrupted by Rafayel quickly dropping his arms to hold her thighs and lift her into his arms. 

“Ah well, what can you do,” he sang. Y/n glanced up at him to see a huge, dorky smile on his face. “Feels even better when you initiate a hug then me hugging you,” he admitted. The girl felt her face flush again and she hid her face in his neck. “Cute,” he pressed a kiss to her hair. “But seriously, I know that was hard for you. I admire your vulnerability. And of course I will happily cuddle you for the rest of the night! Should we head to bed early or watch that movie you wanted?” The girl was speechless and just shrugged, making him laugh. “Aww is my cutie still embarrassed? There's nothing to be embarrassed about.” She whined in response. She felt her weight shift as Rafayel sat down on his couch. Rafayel hummed. “Can I make you be a bit more vulnerable and give me a kiss?” He asked. Y/n sighed and took a brief moment to breathe before lifting her face to look at him. She quickly kissed his lips before returning to her hiding spot. Rafayel couldn't hold back his laugh, holding her tightly as he shook with laughter. 

Minutes later, she heard the TV turn on, the pre-movie credits playing. Rafayel moved his girlfriend somewhat begrudgingly, so that she was now sitting next to him, her legs across his lap. She looked at him confused. He nodded towards the TV. “Kind of hard for you to watch if you're just pressed against my chest, no?” He asked, moving his arm to wrap around her back, the other reaching for her hand and placing a kiss on it. “And don't worry, I'll definitely be getting my real kiss later. As many as I want,” he winked at her. Safe to say he did not complete his painting that night, which wasn't abnormal for the artist. He had more important things to do. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Sylus 

The Onychinus base was dark. A few lights leading y/n to the boss. Sylus was in his study, working on something. She wasn't sure what, but she didn't intend to stay long. It weighed heavily on her mind that she never initiated any physical contact with Sylus, her boyfriend. He hadn't said anything, but she had been in her head about it. If she were dating someone and they never initiated anything, she'd think they didn't really like her. She didn't want Sylus to think that. The problem was she's not good at initiating contact. It terrifies her. So even when she wanted to, she held back. But after thinking, she decided she would initiate physical contact, no matter how scary. Starting small of course. Today's plan of action? A hug before she went off to bed. It wasn't unusual for her to say goodnight to the man, but he was always the one to wave her over to hug or kiss her. Tonight she wasn't going to let him. 

The girl softly knocked on the door, opening it slowly and peeking in. Sylus’s brow raised, pleased by the sudden interruption. He looked down at his watch, unaware of his girlfriend swiftly making her way across the room. He opened his mouth to speak, but was shocked by how close she now was. Wordlessly, she climbed into his chair with him, sitting on his lap and wrapping her arms around him. “Just wanted to say goodnight,” she whispered. Y/n wanted to sound confident, but her voice betrayed her, shaking slightly. Sylus smiled, his large hands resting on her back. “This is quite the surprise,” Sylus began, not wanting to push her too far. Of course he had noticed his girlfriend's behavior. He could tell when she wanted a hug or kiss, but then did nothing about it. He didn't say anything, not wanting to push her and trusting she would when she was ready. It didn't bother him that she never kissed him. It bothered him that she wanted to kiss him, but didn't. Sylus was determined to do everything in his power to let you be comfortable to take what you wanted from him. “I always come say goodnight,” y/n tried to play off the action. He chuckled. 

“Yes, and I love that. But,” he hesitated, unsure how to put his feelings into words that wouldn't hurt her unintentionally. “You never do this. Not that I mind. I'm happy you're finally taking what you want from me.” 

“Can I take more?” She quietly asked. 

“You can take anything and everything from me,” he replied. 

“Come to bed? At least for a little bit. I know you have work to do, but-” she was cut off by Sylus standing, carrying her to his bedroom. He placed her down gently, tucking her into bed before getting in next to her and wrapping his arms around her again, her head tucked into his neck. He lifted her head and pressed a slow kiss to her lips, appreciating her actions. “Take whatever you want. Goodnight, love.” 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Xavier 

Y/n paced back and forth in her apartment. She had woken up in the middle of the night, a nightmare interrupting her sleep. What had caused her to pace however, was a decision she had to make. Her dreams had been plagued with memories of what happened to her grandmother, her death anniversary coming up. When she woke up, she felt horribly lonely and the thought of her boyfriend a few apartments down almost made it worse. She was an adult, she could handle a little nightmare and just go back to bed. Or she could get in the elevator and go see Xavier. He wouldn't mind, right? But her boyfriend loved his sleep. Like a lot. She didn't want to interrupt that. Plus he had just gotten back from a mission, only texting to let her know he got back safe and was headed to bed. She decided she could be stealthy enough, putting on some slippers and heading out the door. 

The building was quiet, which made sense because it was the middle of the night. But it was cold and y/n regretted not grabbing a coat, only in her pj's. The elevator seemed to move slower and she wondered if she should just turn around and deal with this alone as she always had. But the last time she had a nightmare, Xavier happened to be over and she told him she would come to him if it happened again. She technically already broke that promise, having a similar dream soon after but dealing with it alone. This one however, felt more intense. She would not be getting any sleep after it. The bell dinged and she excited the elevator, walking over to his apartment. 

She didn't bother knocking, just using the spare key he gave her and opening the door suddenly. She was a bit surprised to see her boyfriend asleep on the couch- his arm draping off the side. This presented a new problem. He was clearly so tired after the mission, he passed out on the couch, still wearing his uniform. Y/n bit her lip in thought. Her original plan was to just get into bed next to him and sleep, but that wasn't possible with him on the couch. She'd have to wake him up. She'd have to tell him about her nightmare and that she wanted to stay with him. It was too much. As she turned to leave, she was stopped. “Is that you y/n?” Xavier had spoken through a yawn. “Are you okay?” Her hand froze on the doorknob of his door, not knowing if she should book it or not. But she wanted to get some rest. She wanted her boyfriend's comfort. 

“I had another nightmare,” y/n finally said, turning around to see her boyfriend now sitting up on the couch. He smiled sleepily at her. “Mm come to bed with me. Too cold to sleep alone anyway,” he stood, stretching. She nodded and walked over to him, unable to hold back and hugging him. He held her back, saying nothing even when he felt a few hot tears fall on his shoulder. “You're okay now. Thank you for coming to me,” he whispered to her. She nodded and backed away. Xavier gently wiped her face with his fingers. “Let me change and I'll meet you in bed?” She nodded and they headed to his room. 

Once in something more comfortable, Xavier got into his bed, spooning his girlfriend. He sighed happily, nuzzling into her neck. Y/n felt better. Warm. Being held by the one she loved most, she was able to find rest that night. 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Zayne 

When the door to his apartment opened, Zayne was greeted by his girlfriend wrapping her arms around him. He was a bit surprised, not expecting her to be there. He hugged her back, not letting go. He always made sure to not let go first, knowing his girlfriend. She struggled to show her affection, so when she did he made sure to not break away early, soaking up all the affection he could from her. Usually, her hugs were brief, but today's wasn't. She held onto him, breathing in his scent. Zayne hesitated for a moment on whether to let go. But decided against it, thinking there must be a reason. “You smell good,” y/n murmured. 

“Is that so? I just got out of a five hour surgery,” he questioned. Maybe she believed she needed a reason to hug him longer than normal because he surely didn't smell good. 

“Oh,” she hesitated, her excuse nullified. 

“Is everything okay?” Zayne softly asked. 

“Yeah, I just,” she hesitated again. “Wanna hold you. I missed you.” 

“I missed you too,” he smiled. “Not that I want to let you go, but what is that smell?” 

“Oh, I cooked you some dinner. I figured you'd be hungry.” 

“You didn't have to do that.” 

“I know,” she replied, breaking away from the hug to look at him and smile. “I just wanted to. I figured we could eat and then watch a movie tonight?” 

“Sounds lovely. Let me go wash up,” he smiled at her before disappearing into his room. Y/n moved to his kitchen, playing the food she had prepared for them. Nothing fancy, but tasty nonetheless. Zayne had returned unnoticed, only making himself known when he wrapped his arms around her, leaning forward to place a kiss on her cheek. The two said nothing, only swaying in the kitchen to unheard music. “The foods gonna get cold,” y/n warned. Zayne sighed, but agreed, releasing her to sit down and eat. 

Zayne has refused to let y/n do the dishes after they had finished. Arguing that she had done so much to prepare it, it was only fair he cleaned up. She eventually listened, going to set up the movie in the living room. He joined her, sitting down next to her and grabbing a side blanket- her favorite. Even though she bought the blanket for him to “liven up his house”, she used it anytime she came over, snuggling into it. When the movie began, Zayne watched as his girlfriend excitedly cuddled up to him, pulling the blanket onto them both. They were quiet for a while, enjoying each other's company and the movie. The movie had slowed, the plot not being very intense. “You know you don't have to do all of this to cuddle with me,” Zayne whispered to her. She nodded, blushing slightly. 

“I know. I wanted to. It somehow makes it easier than outright asking for you to hold me. That still scares me,” she admitted. 

“Well first off, thank you for the dinner and everything. It was very nice. Second, you don't have to say anything or do anything grand. You can just pull me down here to the couch or bed and I'll happily hold you as long as you need. I know you show your love through actions, so I'm not saying to stop doing that. I'm just saying it's not necessary or a prerequisite to physical touch,” he explained. She nodded and looked at him with a smile. 

“I know, promise. It's nice to hear I don't have to get to the point of straight up asking you for what I want though. Maybe one day I'll be brave enough.” 

“And if not, that's okay. I like to think I know you pretty well and can understand your hints no matter how small.” 

“Oh really? Then what do I want right now?” She asked, eyes sparkling.

“A kiss,” he answered simply, leaning in to do just that. When he pulled back, he noticed her face erupted into a cute blush. “Was I wrong?” He asked. She shook her head, embarrassed that he truly had known. No one else had ever paid that much attention to her. “I love you Zayne,” y/n told him. 

“And I love you too.” 

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

Caleb 

It was surprising to y/n that she struggled to be “touchy feely” with her current boyfriend. They were childhood friends after all. She was more comfortable with him than anyone, even after everything that happened. Caleb never said anything about it, probably knowing she had this struggle with everyone. He never pushed it either. To him, that's just his girlfriend. She's everything he's ever wanted and more. Sure, she struggles to be a bit vulnerable and come to him for a hug or cuddle or kiss, but that was okay. He was happy to initiate all of that. But for y/n, it was something that made her insecure. In relationships, you were supposed to hug and kiss and sure she and Caleb did, but she never kissed him. She had hugged him plenty of times, but holding his hand and kissing him was another story. She wanted to, of course, they were dating now. But it terrified her for some reason. The judgement from others maybe was part of it, another that for some reason if she initiated anything Caleb would be disgusted with her. She knew it was irrational, but that didn't make it any easier. 

Today was one of the rare days they both had off and Caleb was in town. They had spent most of the day indoors, playing games, ordering food and spending time with each other. But after a while, they got a little stir crazy and decided to head to a nearby park to go on a little walk and then maybe grab some dinner. The sun was out and it overall was a beautiful day. They walked down the path, chatting and messing around with each other. Y/n had run ahead, telling Caleb that he was still the slowest person ever. When he caught up, her heart thumped in her chest, more so due to nerves than the exercise. She tried to be as natural as possible as she grabbed his hand next to hers, holding it and swinging it slightly by her side. She said nothing. She couldn't even look at him, suddenly finding the trees around them to be the most interesting thing she's ever seen. But the flush of her cheeks told a different story. 

When Caleb felt his girlfriend's soft fingers hold his, he thought his heart would combust. He immediately turned to her, to find her blushing and looking away. He was shocked, knowing that this was something that was hard for her. He always said that it was okay she never held his hand out kissed him and he really thought that. But now he wasn't so sure he could go back. “Someones gotten braver,” he commented, making her pout. 

“It's just hand holding,” she muttered, moving their hands in front of them so they could see their hands intertwined. “Oh really? But you've never grabbed mine before,” he reasoned. She dropped their hands back to their sides. 

“Yeah well, a lot has changed,” she shrugged, trying to play it cool. Caleb laughed at her. “I returned almost a year ago and we started dating soon after. And only now you take my hand?” He teased. “Something big must have changed in the past two weeks.” 

“Yep,” she agreed, not breaking her act. “So much has changed that I can even do this.” She suddenly stopped walking and pressed a kiss to his lips. Caleb froze and she took the opportunity to let go of his hand and run away. When he returned to reality, he heard her laughing, his personal favorite song as she ran away from him. “Don't think you can get away with that!” He called after her, running to catch up, a huge grin on his face.

[alleycatrecue]

This Giving Tuesday, we ask you to consider donating to Alley Cat Rescue’s Life-saving Program, which is used to ensure we can get cats with urgent medical care.

This program will ensure that ACR can continue to help save cats that are who are severely ill or injured. Cats in such poor shape don't have time to wait for the funds to be raised.

In the past, we have used Alley Cat Rescue’s Life-saving Program funding to save numerous lives.

.....

MAIZIE - Late one Sunday, we were alerted to a very young mama cat who was stuck at a city shelter and had been in labor all day. She had given birth to four stillborn babies early in the morning and was still suffering. She needed to see a vet as soon as possible.

Maizie was rushed to an emergency vet and it was determined that there was one large kitten still in the birth canal. Sadly, the kitten had no heartbeat, The vet performed an emergency c-section as Maze would not have survived otherwise. She was also severely anemic as she lost a lot of blood with the placentas for each birth. She was in intensive care and is now being monitored closely. Unfortunately, she's suffered permanent nerve damage to her back legs.

OLIVE was found by our Los Angeles team with her ears mutilated and a back leg broken in two places. She needed her leg amputated but after recovery, she was pain free and adopted.

SIMONE (aka Cally) came to us with three nursing kittens and a severe viral infection. Her fever shot up to 105 and we rushed her to an emergency clinic. Simone stayed at the clinic for a week, receiving IV antibiotics, fluids, anti-nausesa medication, and many tests.

ASH's jaw was badly broken in a domestic violence situation, leaving him in terrible pain and unable to eat. He required a feeding tube, hospitalization, and three surgeries.

TEDDY was only a few days old when he developed pneumonia. He spent several days at the vet, requiring round-the-clock monitoring and care. He also required a feeding tube because he was so congested that he could not eat and breathe at the same time, and he was placed in an incubator.

ROO was born with both back legs wrapped around his body and badly deformed. ACR got him physical therapy, massages, and laser treatment, which fixed his legs. Though he eventually lost his right paw, ACR was able to give him complete mobility.

BUBBLEGUM was born 1/4 the size of his littermates. He's had multiple issues including a heart murmur, digestive trouble, and delayed growth. we have taken him to the veterinarian and multiple veterinary specialists many times throughout his development to try to determine what is wrong. Almost an adult now, he shows signs of weakness and has an enlarged spleen and lymph nodes, inflamed gums and teeth, and ACR continues to work with vets and specialists on his healing

......

Some cats need emergency treatment for a week, recover, and then find their forever home. Others require continued or follow up care for much longer. We are gratified to be able to give happy endings to kittens and cats in dire need. Please help us continue to do this by donating to Alley Cat Rescue's life-saving program this #GivingTuesday.

[okwonyo]

CUFFING SEASON 𓂃 gymrat!enhypen 𓈒

𝗜𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗥𝗔𝗭𝗜𝗢𝗡𝗘 ✶ ────── 𝗂𝗍’𝗌 𝖼𝗎𝖿𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝖾𝖺𝗌𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗀𝗂𝗋𝗅𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗅𝖾𝖺𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗈 𝗀𝖾𝗍 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗒. 𝗂 𝗇𝖾𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗀 𝖻𝗈𝗒.

엔하이픈 & fem!rea 14OO fluff established relationship cautions kissing skinship ˊᯅˋ altero

❛ 姫　❜ thanks to danipie for the heeseung prompt and tam for jakes >< plus to jenn, tam and pockemonz for being my emotional support 🎀

reblogs⠀⠀ꢾ꣒⠀ feedbacks please

HEESEUNG ｡｡ ever since you moved in together, your boyfriend likes to walk around with a tank top embracing his upper body, showcasing his biceps and making you daydream about his chest.

frankly, this habit of his isn’t new to you— back when you lived in different apartments, he would always open the door while dressed in that sort of clothes.

you admired his arms for a while during the long times whereas you were together. gaze dragging over his hands to reach his biceps, you always wondered if the ribbon you put in your hair could fit around his big muscles.

“do you think it’d fit?” the ribbon is held between your index finger and your thumb as you question your boyfriend.

he looks at his biceps then at the pink hair accessory in your hand. seeing the sheer happiness on your face, he smiles “we can always try, sweetheart.”

wiping the grin off his face as he watches you wrap the thing around his flexed bicep is impossible. it is fun and you find it irresistibly hot— wrapping his arm is like marking him as yours. and you both love it.

JAY ｡｡ honestly, you think you are dreaming even now, deep in doze still, when you step into the kitchen and are met with a heaven-sent view in front of you.

with a mouth agape and eyes growing wide, you admire the back of your boyfriend. you want to thank whoever created gyms and thank your fortune for making your boyfriend such an addict.

his muscular and defined back shines, stares back at you as he is focused on making breakfast. the laces of the pink apron he wears on top of his naked torso wraps his waist perfectly.

it feels like heaven when your cheek collapses on his hot naked skin. you hug his waist like a teddy bear— almost melting into his skin. and god, he smells too good.

it’s dreamy when he kisses the top of your head, “good morning, baby,” he greets you, but you are too enamored by the vision of his broad shoulders a few moments ago to respond just yet.

you only hum, thinking that today will be a great day.

JAKE ｡｡ your phone rings as you are making yourself lunch. upon picking it up, a breathy voice reaches you through the phone. given the hour of the day, you don’t need to double check to know who it is.

“hi, princess, you good?” he greets you and you can hear the grin in his tone. a groan comes quick after— proving his current physical effort and confirming that he is at the gym, as he always is.

“yes, i’m good, jake,” the deep breath you take makes you able to respond after a few seconds. the next question is automatic, “how are you?”

“’m good, babe, i’m on the lat pulldown machine right now.” it would have been better, way better, if he hadn’t said that. or if he never showed you what a lat pulldown looks like.

but he did, and you cannot wipe the image of him sitting, his wide shoulders flexing alongside his back as he pulls the lat down. it makes you feel dizzy, him groaning again doesn’t help.

due to your silence, he continues. his voice is whiny, your knees get weaker, “i’ll finish my set quickly and take you on a date, alright?”

imagining him at the gym makes your whole behind fragile. your voice is locked in your throat and you tongue won’t move. but you’d let that man take you anywhere he’d like— the frail sounds of agreement you make are a confirmation of it.

SUNGHOON ｡｡ “stop moving around,” he commands, rather gently. his smile is too big for his words to be an order, he is so close to you that you can’t stop giggling. but you do stop moving.

the man’s beauty hits you one more time as your eyes focus on him. your boyfriend has his hands either side of your torso, next to your arms while you lay down on the floor.

he lower himself slowly, his lips brush over yours ever so gently, a quick kiss before he pushes on his arms and gets in his initial position. he is the one who got that idea, claiming that it’ll motivate him more.

it is in the privacy of your living room that he does another push up, his chest presses against yours when he lowers himself. this time, the kiss linger a little more than the last one.

you should have known that this exercise wouldn’t last long. it takes him less than three pushups to start focusing on your lips a little too much. “you know what? nevermind.”

his weight drops on you, a little ‘oof’ escapes from his mouth and a gentle ‘sorry, darling’ does the same from his. you kiss him back quickly when his mouth gets on yours.

SUNOO ｡｡ when you first met, his gym journey wasn’t as long as it is currently. therefore, you were used to his old, already quite muscular build. when he started going more regularly to the point where it was almost everyday, the changes weren’t very obvious to you.

of course, you knew he was getting more buffed every passing day but you didn’t realize how much until now. when your head is resting on his chest, covered by the thin fabric of his t-shirt.

it takes you a bit to realize how firm his chest feels under your resting head. you stay still for a moment, then your eyebrows furrow as you rub your cheek against his chest.

his arms tighten around your form, and you realize that his pecks are not the only parts that got more muscular. his chest vibrates as he laughs, “what are you doing?”

taken out of your examination, your gaze shoots up. it’s absurd how his natural cute face is on top of that kind of build. “since when are you hulk?”

JUNGWON ｡｡ during the time when he isn’t getting on your nerves or teasing you, he spends his energy on lifting weights at the gym and working on his muscles.

therefore, you know how well his body is built. you can tell, honestly, whenever you surreptitiously peek at him while he takes off his shirt to put on a hoodie instead. his big shoulders and small waist looks back at you, his beceps flex as he folds the clothing piece.

his muscles might be one of his greatest assets, to both send you into a spiral and irritate you the most. because being manhandled everywhere by your boyfriend creates an eruption of butterflies in your stomach but not being able to fight back makes you want to bite him.

“leave me alone!” you laugh when he lifts you off the floor in a swift mention. you are unable to move your arms as he jailed them in his embrace when he rushed to you.

the man quite literally throws you on your shared bed, making your body bounce against the mattress. you are breathless from both laughing, running away from him— even more when you find him on top of you.

you try to push him away when he leans closer. well, not really trying, because you don’t put any strength in the process. he ends up getting his kiss at the end, and he is quite content about it.

RIKI ｡｡ after occupying your room more than you do, even when you are not here, it is natural for him to have a place in your dressing where he can put his clothes.

the first time you thought about it, there wasn’t any big deal or issue related to it. it is the natural course of things, and you love that he is always there with you.

but it gets harder for you when he actually changes. when he takes off his shirt right before your eyes, letting you have a look of the creation he worked hard to have.

embarrassment becomes a prominent emotion in your head whenever you catch yourself staring at his defined abs. it is torture, you cannot yake your eyes off of them.

only a short amount of time passes before he notices it. soon enough , your boyfriend is smirking at you with his shirt in his hand, “like what you see?”

it’s a shame that you actually do. rather very much than not.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[oceantornadoo]

dubcon, objectification, forced (?) threesome, f!reader

they say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.

ghost finds you ten months after your divorce, nursing a drink in a shithole of a pub. he doesn’t consider himself a good man, licking the tears on your cheeks when he fucks you for the first time, ignoring your whines of how “it’s been a while” and you’re “too tight.” he doesn’t like to keep birds around longer than a night, but something about how you wrap your leg around him in the morning makes him stay a little longer.

he lets you call him simon after you whine that you “can’t fuck him without knowing his name.” it takes a bit, but you get used to sleeping with someone who isn’t your ex-husband. he calls you bird instead of sweetheart, love instead of darling and after a while, the word honey loses its significance. when simon tells you he’s military, you try to leave his bed, only for him to pull you by the thigh, apologizing with his tongue in your cunt. simon doesn’t date and you aren’t ready for it, content to stay in your respective apartments, living for his occasional half-smiles and usual gruff admonishments. its a bit new to simon - he’s used his camera app more in the past weeks than he has in years. always pictures of you: his cum on your tits, the bruises he leaves on your hips, a rare photo of you sleeping. he even lets you corral him into taking a cheesy mirror picture, his arms dwarfing your waist with his face tucked into your neck, your jawline exposed as you turn to kiss his cheek.

it’s two months later when you promise to cook him a meal for the first time, a sunday roast he hasn’t tasted in years. “better not take too long, bird, ‘m starvin’.” simon murmurs in your ear, hands squeezing your stomach and waist as you fumble with your keys. “i’ve had it slow cooking before i left for yours last night. it’ll put us in a food coma.” you finally put the key in the lock, turning it with force before simon decides to fuck you against the door. he dips to bite your neck, sending you into your apartment giggling, swatting him off you. the weight of your divorce is finally off your shoulders, happy butterflies fluttering in your stomach formed by simon’s continuous presence.

the butterflies die when you see a familiar pair of boots at your door.

“stay here.” you order simon, a change from your usual dynamic. you can’t focus on his reaction, set on edge by the sounds of pots clanging in your kitchen. there’s no point in creeping - he knows you’re here. you turn the corner and there he is - your ex husband. “you’re just in time, sweetheart. nice ‘f you to make a roast.”

john’s standing there like he owns the place, like he knows this kitchen he’s never been in. he’s boiling potatoes on the stove, keeping an eye on the slow cooker timer. he’s even poured himself a fucking drink, a scotch he had to have brought since all you have is wine and simon’s whiskey. all smug and entitled in his civvies, commanding the room like he pays your rent. he's still as handsome as ever, darker eye bags the only indication he's been losing sleep.

“what the fuck are you doing here, john?” john doesn’t answer immediately, instead using a fork to test the potatoes. satisfied, he takes them off the burner and turns to the sink, dumping them out in a prepared strainer. “‘s our anniversary, sweetheart. thought that’s why you made the food.” you can sense simon still in the doorway, his presence unknown to your ex. it gives you strength, a guard dog at your back, and comfort that he’s letting you run this on your own. “our anniversary ended when we signed the papers. i don’t know how you got in here, but you need to leave.” he frowns at you and it almost tugs at your heart strings. your brain conjures images of his coldness and constant distance, and you shut that down real fast. unfortunately, he doesn’t get the memo. john takes a step closer, hands up like he’s approaching a wild animal. “honey, i-“ and that’s when ghost steps out of the darkness.

there’s a long pause. it boosts your ego a bit, showing john you’ve moved on, until the silence is so long that you start to worry. you chance a look at simon’s face and find it confused, not at all the guard dog you thought he was. a glance at john’s reveals the same. you’re about to ask your question when they answer it for you. “captain.” “lieutenant.” “what?”

the transformation happens in an instant. both men straighten to their full heights, wiping any emotion off their faces. their brows furrow as they flex their hands to control their instincts. how could you not see it before? simon only mentioned he was military, but the stamp of the SAS is clear as day. it was in the harsh lines he carried, a companionship with death, not unlike the one john had.

john started first, of course, always having to take control of the situation. “you fuckin’ my lieutenant, sweetheart? miss me that much?” you rolled your eyes at his cruel words, inching closer to simon. “whatever we do doesn’t concern you.” you emphasized the “you”, spitting it out with venom. john hums low, making you nervous. you turn to simon, but he's quiet and calculating, communicating silently with his captain.

"didn't know you had a wife, sir." you answer before john can. "we divorced a year ago." john chimes in. "to the day, actually. she served me on our anniversary." simon looks down at you, the man you thought you knew now gone. his eyes are black pits, targeting you like you're prey. "that's cruel, bird." you sputter, backing into the kitchen cabinets. you walk until your back hits the sink, each man on either side of you. john has his arms crossed and head cocked to the side, like you're about to get chewed out by the school principal. simon looks...no longer human. unrestrained. whatever spark you two had has gone out, replaced by sheer loyalty to his captain. "show the captain what he's been missin', love. y've been starvin' him." he moves at lightning speed, picking you up and dropping you on the island counter, sunday roast long forgotten.

"simon?" he doesn't answer, scarred hands squeezing up and down your body as john watches from behind him, arms crossed and eyes searching. your mind is telling you one thing but your body wants another. some twisted part of your brain reminds you that john came to visit on your anniversary, even though you threw him out a year ago. simon's no better, coaxing your sweater off your torso, leaving you exposed in a lacy bra. your nipples harden and john sees, making a clicking noise with his tongue. "warm 'er up, lieutenant." simon obeys instantly, pulling down the cup of your bra to suck on your nipple. he's ravenous, no sunday roast in sight, and he's decided you're his meal instead. he sucks hard, a calloused hand reaching up to pull your other tit out so you're fully exposed to your two men. he squeezes it with reverence, rolling your nipple between his fingers as he sucks hard on the other one, not minding his own teeth.

it's dirty - watching john watch you. you hadn't fucked in the last months before the divorce. he was always too busy, on base or deployed, and you were so angry you couldn't let him near you. now, your ex-husband moves closer, taking in the sight of his lieutenant feasting. "miss me, sweetheart?" you shake your head on instinct. he sighs at your attitude. you're seated on the corner of the island, perfect for john to come up on your side, one large paw making its way towards your jaw, turning you towards him. "say it." you shake your head again. john sticks a thumb into your mouth, pushing against your teeth. you try to force him out, but simon bites your tit, making you gasp and let john in anyways. you suck his thumb defiantly, gazing at him with all the emotions you can't convey.

you look so pretty like this, john decides. laid out for his lieutenant, taking his orders as well as your emotions will allow. he decides to forgive you for your indiscretions with ghost - at least it was with one of his own men. they're practically an extension of himself. john hooks his thumb into the gap between your tongue and teeth and pulls, forcing you right into his space. "i reckon your cunt's nice an' wet, though. should i check? know she's missed me even if you won't admit it." your eyes go wide, giving him an answer he already knew. simon follows orders well, manhandling you into position by yanking off your jeans. there's a wet spot on the light fabric of your underwear. john can practically see your cunt clinging to it, begging for him to say hello.

"want ya to take 'em off y'self, bird." simon's finally speaking, the glaze in his eyes fading. he looks at you, then his captain, and it makes sense. how you're used to being led but refuse it all the same. how you're desperate for affection but won't date him because he's military. you're scarred from the chains of your marriage, so it only makes sense that he's the one you seek out - the opposite of husband material. more dog than human on his worst days. simon stares at you until you follow his command, meekly lifting up your hips as you take off your underwear. your cunt is sopping, in a way it only does when you’re ovulating, practically begging for it. your ex-husband whistles through his teeth like he’s praising a recruit. “knew she’d be happy to see me. hullo, darling.” you can’t find it in you to cringe. john starts running his fingers through your folds, inspecting, and all you can do is stare. stare at the veins in his forearm. stare at simon behind him, eyes trained on his captain’s movements. stare at the counter where your juices start to gather and wonder how the hell you got into this situation.

“pinch ‘er tit an’ watch ‘er flutter.” simon’s callous with his instructions but john follows them anyway, his unoccupied hand reaching up to pinch your nipple. you can’t help the gasp that escapes you, the way your cunt flutters around john’s fingers. he hums thoughtfully. john decides you’ve been good, if not a bit quiet, and presses his thumb against your clit as a reward. he starts rubbing in that pattern that would get you off without fail during your marriage. he fits one finger into you easily as you grip the counter hard, the sudden sensation overwhelming. simon peers over his shoulder like a fucking scientist. “‘f she gets bratty, i pull back the hood til she screams.” like your cunt’s a machine and they have the two pieces of its manual. john’s movements are making you desperate, hips starting to buck against his fingers. he chuckles and adds another, not hiding a smile when you sigh in relief. simon’s hands come to your waist, helping you fuck yourself on price’s fingers. it feels so wrong, having them barely listen to your pleas, and yet being under their watch is the most right you’ve ever felt in your life. that’s what brings your orgasm - not john’s thick fingers on your cunt, his rough thumb in your clit - but two sets of hungry eyes on you, like you’re their last meal. john fucks you through your orgasm, simon not letting you out of his grasp until tears start to form, the embarrassment of your own wetness coming to the front of your mind. john slowly removes his fingers and brings them to simon’s mouth to taste, not satisfied until his lieutenant hums in agreement. the two men turn to you, naked save for your disheveled bra around your waist, somehow making the scene more depraved.

“‘ow ‘bout that roast, love?” simon murmurs gruffly.

good thing john never signed the divorce papers.

[potchi-fics]

“i really love you, you know that?”

a hearty laugh from sevika reaches your ear, “you just love my happy trail.”

      you two are currently chilling on your sofa, with you leaning on her side and your head just above her collarbone, your hand playing with the patch of hair on her abdomen trailing down. it’s her day off from work so you are savouring it.

“that’s…” you pout, but a smirk wins in the end, “true. there’s something about your happy trail, i swear. i could stare at it all day.”

     she kisses the crown of your head, amused with your antics. you’ve asked—instructed that she must NOT get rid of her happy trail. and being the sap she is with you, absolutely followed; like a good boy. your thumb rubs up and down, the hairs satisfying your whole being.

“you mean you could touch it all day,” sevika murmurs, “you’re a freak, y’know? i didn’t think i’d be able to find someone who could–”

“match your freak.”

a sigh of defeat leaves her chest, “match my freak.”

“hey, don’t forget the time when you groveled at my feet when i shaved.” you push her face away, your palm making contact with her cheek, “i thought something happened when you suddenly yelled under the blanket.”

she grabs your hand, wrapping it with hers and resting it on your stomach, “one of the most traumatizing sights i have ever seen. c’mon, you know how much i love when your pussy is bushy–”

“alright, baby, i get it. can we just enjoy the night without being vulgar?” you can feel your face flush at her comment.

she snickers, “you started it.”

      she pecks your head again. despite you two having conversations like these, the softness and vulnerability never go away, it stays with the both of you. you continue to stroke her happy trail, placing your ear against her beating heart, using it to lullaby you into sleeping.

“sleepy?”

you yawn right when she asked, “sev, it’s six-thirty in the evening. of course i’m sleepy.”

[andypantsx3]

contents: general bakugou x princess reader; fem + afab virgin reader. nsft; oral (f receiving) & missionary. semi-sequel to this drabble. 3.2k.

Your wedding day arrives far earlier than you are prepared for.

It’s a tense affair, for you at least. The country depends on it, and you feel the scheming eyes of the nobility hot on your skin as you pronounce your vows to Bakugou. They will not take kindly to your having chosen him over their sons and brothers, over their own desire to rise to power. There will be a price they will want you to pay, soon enough.

The chapel is resplendent with sumptuous decor, the court in their finest. But the room is fringed with Bakugou’s men in their military leathers, a reminder that this is not a happy day, but rather a dangerous political stunt. It keeps the noble houses docile while they are in the room with you, but you know they will return to their estates and their plans. 

Your fate is in Bakugou’s hands, now, in more ways than one.

The ceremony is dizzying, and impossible to wrap your head around. The preceptor pronounces Bakugou your prince-consort, ostensibly to remain so while you assume the throne after your father’s passing. You will continue to rule him as his sovereign. But your vows to Bakugou also promise him your obedience as his wife. 

It is a contradiction, an impossible trap, the very reason why the general is the only man you could stomach the thought of marrying. If a husband is to rule you after all, Bakugou will do so justly. 

The thought does not stifle your nerves, however, as you make your way back down the aisle, sit down to the reception, and take your meal. A disquieting, anticipatory feeling settles over you, fizzing under your skin. You barely pick at your dinner, and drink too much of the wine.

You can tell Bakugou notices, scarlet gaze ever-perceptive, though he does not say anything until you are shepherded to the bridal suite to consummate.

Various aides try to follow you in to prepare you, but Bakugou slams the door closed on them, propping it shut with one broad shoulder. He barks at them to scram.

“Lord General—that is, Your Highness,” one of them stutters through the door. “We are required to witness the consummation—to verify that it is complete.”

A bolt of shame goes through you at this, and you catch hold of one of the intricately-carved wooden bed pillars. Bakugou grunts, holding the door closed with one palm while spinning to the nearby dressing table and chair. He grabs the chair, wedging it forcefully up under the door handle.

“You’ll be sure of consummation when I’m done here,” he growls through the door. “Don’t need you little fucking perverts making eyes the whole damn time. Now beat it.”

A weird sound escapes you, something between a gasp and a laugh—at his promise, at his gruffness.

“Your Highness,” comes a plaintive entreaty through the door. Bakugou slams a fist against it, and you hear a squeal and a sound like someone’s fallen over their feet.

An absurd laugh seizes you, and Bakugou eyes you pettishly.

“The fuck’re you laughing about,” he says, but there’s no heat in it.

Your fingers twist on the bedpost, nervously tracing the lines. “You’re taking to your new post well.”

Bakugou’s features twist into something dangerously satisfied, a smirk painting his mouth. Your breath comes short.

“My post,” he echoes, raising an eyebrow. “As your husband.”

Your stomach swoops. The disquiet flames back to life under your skin, settling heavy in your gut like a stone. 

“I supposed it is a post like any other,” you say, fixing your gaze on the ground. “There are responsibilities and… marital duties.”

You hear the soft tread of Bakugou’s boot as he steps away from the door, the rustle of his doublet as he draws closer. His many medals and ceremonial sword belt clink softly. It is a fashion you know he does not prefer, always living in his shirtsleeves—the better to fight in, to train in.

A calloused hand takes your chin, tipping your face up to his.

“You nervous, Princess?” he asks. His tone is obnoxious, as usual, but his crimson gaze traces your face.

You barely suppress a shiver under his touch. Your stomach churns with a thousand emotions and you find you don’t know how to feel. Relieved that you’ve made it this far. Annoyed with Bakugou’s composure and general manner. Apprehensive about what is to come. And warm, suddenly, all over. You do not want to examine why.

“Nonsense,” you sniff. 

A feral smile curls the corner of Bakugou’s mouth like he sees right through you. “You’ve never been with a man.”

Your face burns but you force yourself to return Bakugou’s assessing stare. “I’ve never been to Musutafu, either, but I know it well enough. I should think I am… prepared.”

Something hot alights in Bakugou’s gaze, burning like a coal. It’s not unlike how he looked at you that night in the dark outside his chambers, when you’d first come to him with this wild proposal.

“And what do you think you know,” he says, flatter than a question.

Your nose grows hot. “Enough.”

A thumb slides along your jaw, settling against the pulse in your neck. “Answer the question, angel.”

Your face just might be on fire. You steel yourself, reciting dispassionately. “You will undress me and then… enter me. I shall lie still—they say you can breathe through the pain and it will go away after some time. You will… work yourself to completion. And then we shall be done.”

A snort comes from Bakugou. “Is that how you royal tightasses do it?”

You feel your eyes narrow. “That is how everyone does it.”

Your ladies in waiting had been very emphatic. All of them had spoken of the same mechanics. The initial discomfort, the pain, the way a husband moved upon his wife until he was satisfied.

“You don’t know shit, Princess,” Bakugou says.

You reach up to pull his hand from your face, but he tenses, arm growing solid and immovable. 

“Explains why all you nobles are such fucking tight-buttoned pricks if that’s how you’re doing it.”

Your reply is startled out of you when his hand finds your waist. You take a step back, and then another, startling again when your back finds the wall. Bakugou follows you, eyes hot.

“You are insufferable,” you inform him hotly. “I am sure of the matter.”

“You’re always sure of a lot of things, Princess,” he says. His hand is back at your waist, and suddenly all your skin feels too hot and tight, stifling like a velvet dress in summer.

“I am sure you are the most obnoxious man on earth,” you say. “Now be quiet and commence with it. Let’s have done with it.”

Bakugou’s face is suddenly closer than you’d remembered it being.

“I’ll have done with you alright,” he says. “But I’m not gonna do it like you little uppity prudes.”

You find you can’t think of what he means, all of your thoughts clouded with his proximity, the feeling of his hand moving to your skirts.

“I—but there is only the one way,” you manage. None of your ladies had mentioned anything else.

Bakugou’s mouth cuts into a smirk again, and you hate him for how pretty it is. 

“We’ll fuckin’ see about that,” he says.

And then his mouth is pressed to yours. 

It’s nothing like the stilted peck you’d been obliged to give him at the ceremony—one that still left your face burning, for some unknowable reason. This feels entirely different in its intensity. Bakugou’s mouth is hot and soft and tempting and eager, and your body thrills with it.

Every inch of your skin feels like it zings with lightning when he licks into your mouth, and he presses you harder into the wall. You feel his groan all the way down to your toes.

“B–akugou,” you pant when his mouth leaves yours, only to stifle a yip when he moves down to your throat. He sucks a mark there, laving over it with his tongue, and you feel like you're melting in his hands. “That’s—not my—ah!—mouth,” you manage.

The tiniest scrape of teeth has you yelping again, and you find yourself clutching his bicep for purchase.

“No shit,” he says, leaving another mark lower, mapping his way towards your chest. Calloused fingers come up to cup one of your breasts, thumb swiping over your nipple through your stays. You catch hold of his hair, yanking a fistful of that flaxen blonde, clenching your thighs together.

“What are you doing?” you hiss. 

Bakugou looks up at you, expression annoyed. “Consummating.”

“But you’re not undressing me,” you say. “And shouldn’t we—on the bed?

Bakugou raises a blonde eyebrow. “They tell you it needs to be on a bed, too?”

You blink, momentarily disarmed. It was quite literally called sharing the marriage bed—where else were you supposed to do it?

“Are you sure we’re talking about the same thing?” you eventually ask him.

Both of Bakugou’s eyebrows shoot for the moon, and he looks very suddenly like he wants to laugh. A grin yanks at his mouth, sharp and beautiful.

“I knew you’d be a fucking handful,” he says, his tone somehow both annoyed and delighted. “Don’t even know what the fuck you’re talking about and you’re still trying to give me orders.”

You yank at the fistful of his hair you’re still clutching and he hisses, hand shooting out to grab yours. He works your grip off of him, pinning your wrist to the wall. The air in the room suddenly feels a hundred times thicker, like trying to breathe through honey.

“Listen closely, Princess,” he tells you, leaning in. “We're going to consummate, alright. But I’m not just gonna squeeze my eyes shut and stick it in. I’m going to do what I want first, and you’re going to be good and let me.”

Your face ignites in flame. You want to disagree reflexively. “If it’s going to be painful I’d rather just have it over with, if you don’t mind,” you say.

Bakugou stares back, scarlet gaze roving over you. “It’s not gonna be if you shut up and let me do what I want.”

You blink. You hadn’t heard that there was a way around the pain—why hadn’t anyone told you?

“I—really?” you ask.

Bakugou nods. “Really.”

“Oh,” you say. “Well then… you may proceed, I suppose.”

“You suppose,” he echoes, staring you down. The look on his face makes you want to lean forward and bite it off.

“Well get on with it,” you say, arching your eyebrows.

Bakugou looks for a moment like he wants to shake you. But he ducks his head instead, lowering his mouth to yours again.

“Gonna fuck that bossiness right out of you,” he mutters, low like he’s promising himself and not you. But then he kisses you again, muffling your gasp in his mouth.

You’ve never kissed another man, and do not have a frame of reference for what he’s doing. But Bakugou is a good kisser, you think. Every flick of his tongue feels like someone has uncorked champagne and poured it beneath your skin, and every brush of his mouth against yours sends a liquid heat racing through your veins.

You moan into his mouth when calloused fingers delve beneath the collar of your gown, dipping into your stays and pinching a nipple. He rolls it carefully, and you arch against him without any say-so from your brain. 

“Been thinking about this, Princess,” he says. “Ever since I saw you in that little nightdress. Gonna show you what it really means to be with a man.”

You’re excused from answering by his mouth back on yours. Not that you think you could, with the way his fingers feel in the cups of your stays, or the press of a strong thigh between your own.

“Bakugou,” you gasp when he peels off of you, only to sink to his knees before you.

“It’s Katsuki,” he says, busying himself with the hem of your skirts. 

“B–Katsuki,” you say. “What are you doing?”

Long fingers roll up the hemline of your dress, then yank at your underthings, exposing you to him. You gasp again, moving to cover yourself, but Bakugou pins you to the wall with an arm across your stomach, catching your thigh and pulling it over his shoulder.

“Husbandly duties,” he replies, another smirk on his mouth.

And then your head thunks against the wall as that mouth moves, pressing to you.

“Katsuki!” you shout, biting off into an embarrassing moan when he laves over you. No one had told you about this part—about how a man’s mouth there would make you feel like fireworks had just been lit off in your veins. About how a man’s mouth could even go there at all.

Bakugou doesn’t reply, kissing you there as he had your lips. A delicate suck from him over the cleft of you has you arching in his hands again, and you can quite literally feel him smirking against you.

He works you thoroughly, licking and sucking for what feels like torturous hours, but must only be minutes, until you’re a writhing, panting mess, only held upright by the arm he has banded across your lower stomach. There’s a pressure rising within you, pooling in all your limbs, making you shake and shiver with it, and what feels like no way to release it.

“Katsuki—I feel strange,” you say, bucking against his mouth. “Oh—oh!”

“Just hold on, sweetheart, and let yourself feel it,” Katsuki tells you, before licking back over you. A finger presses up inside of you, foreign but strangely good in conjunction with his mouth. Then another one presses in and they curl as if seeking something, making you twist in his grip.

And then something makes you jerk—the press of Katsuki’s fingers inside you in just the right spot, while he sucks on you, feeling like he’s touching the same place inside of you from both sides.

Something inside you snaps, uncoiling, pleasure flooding down you like a mudslide. You cry out Bakugou’s name, tears in your vision, riding out your pleasure against his mouth. Bakugou licks you through it, groaning low in his throat with appreciation.

“That’s it, Princess,” he says, tone rough. “Now you’re ready for consummation.”

You hear his words as if through a haze, and it’s only once you’re moving—being picked up and carried over to the bed—that you register what he’s saying.

He frees himself from his breeches, and stretches out over you, kissing your mouth. You’re embarrassed to taste yourself on him, but the press of him to you overrides that concern. In one smooth stroke he presses in, and you are shocked to find that he slides home easily, your core slick and ready.

It feels strange, but not at all unpleasant—absolutely nothing like what they’d told you.

“You alright, Princess?” Bakugou asks.

“I—yes,” you say, voice fluttering off when he flexes his hips, moving inside of you. The slide of him inside of you is unexpectedly good, especially when he lowers a hand to your core, pressing a thumb to that bundle of nerves at the hood of you.

“Feel good?” he asks, his eyes hot on your face. You cling to him, hips lifting into him unthinkingly as his thumb pets over you again, as he presses in and out of you a few more times.

You nod, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of saying it aloud.

He grins anyway, feral and fever-bright. His pace picks up into something faster, and you’re embarrassed to hear the slap of him against you, the eager way your body welcomes him in.

The band of pressure builds up inside you again, slowly, with every sure stroke of Bakugou inside you. He’s hot and hard and heavy over you, pressing you into the mattress, and the tops of his cheeks are flush with effort—the way he looks sometimes when he’s just come in from the training pitch.

He’s beautiful—handsome and strong and hot-headed and determined. And it dawns on you that he’s yours now—not just your subject but your husband, your prince consort, and now your lover.

It makes all your skin turn molten hot again, especially when you look down and see your knees have rucked his shirt up. You can see the flex of his abs as he thrusts between your thighs, all that golden skin and dense muscle.

The slide of him inside you and the sight of him over you is suddenly too much, and you feel yourself tip right over the edge again. Bakugou catches your hand as you lift it to muffle your cry, kissing over your knuckles.

“That’s it, Princess, that’s it,” he says again, ducking his head to kiss you.

You moan into his mouth as he fucks you through it, and he groans with the clench of you.

“Feel so fuckin’ good,” he says against your lips, pace picking up faster. “Knew you would, sweetheart, yeah.”

Embarrassingly you feel almost like you could come apart again with the praise. Bakugou groans once more, and you can hear his grip tighten in the blanket next to your head. His hips buck and flex, wildly uncontrolled now, until he gives one final hard thrust.

His weight pins you down when he relaxes over you, his breath tickling over your shoulder. You find you like the weight of him on you, covering you, like a shield against the rest of the world.

Apt, for a general.

“Better than how you wanted to do it, wasn’t it, Princess?” he asks, smug.

You scoff, but you catch the flash of a white grin in the corner of your vision. There is really no question that he’d had the better of it, this time.

“Knew you’d see it my way,” he says.

Over him, you can hear the flutter of feet outside the door, some muffled discussion. Heat rises to your face when you realize the castle aids most definitely heard you cry out under Bakugou’s ministrations. There will be no doubt of your consummation now, regardless of whether you were observed.

“Nosy fuckin’ perverts,” Bakugou says, rolling off of you. You catch another flicker of his chest with the way his shirt gapes, and he looks doubly smug when he notices.

“Not done yet, angel?” he says.

“I am, thank you.” You flush, embarrassed at having been caught. But Bakugou stretches an arm out to yank you over him, pressing you down over his hips.

Your stomach flutters.

“Give me a couple more minutes, Princess,” Bakugou says, scarlet eyes flashing with heat once more. His hand raises to trail through your hair, catching in the wedding hairstyle they’d pinned you into. 

“Five more minutes,” your new husband promises you, with a grin like the devil. “And then we'll give them something to really listen to.”