#Established relationship

[kooklovee]

Ruined Right (m) - JJK

Your boyfriend’s back to you on a break—bigger, stronger, and all yours. In other words, you’re making up for the lost time in the hottest, messiest way possible.

Pairing - bf!Jungkook x gf!Reader

Genre - 18+ established relationship au, fluff, smut MDNI

Warnings - hard dom!Jk, sub!reader, Explicit smut - unprotected, protected sex, oral (m&f receiving), hair pulling, light choking, fingering, edging, overstimulation, head pusher Jk🥵, gagging, marking, mild degradation, doggy, man handling, rough sex, (is black lace a warning?), aftercare.

Wc - 4k

a/n - have you'll seen Jungkook's vdos from a concert he attended recently.. I mean.. my man is definitely hUge🫠 anyways here's a little treat for making HOTM a hit🤗 nfhhdhjakq posted this in a hurry enjoy

Masterlist

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Jungkook is attending a concert tonight.

You’re curled up on your couch, scrolling through Twitter and Instagram, and there he is. Blurry, low-quality videos flood your feed—Jungkook in the audience, dressed in a black leather jacket and that ridiculously cute brown fur hat.

He had told you earlier that he’d be attending, and now that you’re seeing him, it’s impossible to ignore how much he’s changed. His body is massive now—so much broader, so much bigger. Sending the entire internet into a meltdown.

"WTF is he eating in the military??"

"Hobi really meant it when he said Jungkook is HUGE now. I can’t breathe."

The tweets keep rolling in, people thirsting over his military physique, but none of them know what you know. None of them know that after the concert, after months of being apart, Jungkook is coming to you.

It’s been so long since you’ve seen each other. In the beginning, when he first enlisted, you managed to meet a couple of times. But then life got in the way—his schedule, your schedule, time slipping through your fingers. Just glimpses from video calls. And now, after months of waiting, you’re finally going to see him.

You swallow hard, your heart racing.

Because if Jungkook looks this good in a grainy fan video…you can’t even imagine what it’ll be like when he’s standing right in front of you.

Your phone vibrates. Your boyfriend's name on the screen.

Kook: On my wayyyyyyy 🏃

You stand up, suddenly restless. You move to the mirror, running your fingers through your hair, adjusting your clothes, smoothing your hands over your skin.

The doorbell rings.

Anticipation buzzing under your skin. you don’t have to wait much longer. You keep checking your phone, hands a little clammy, nerves thrumming in your stomach from excitement. It’s been so long. Too long.

Your heart jumps. Running a quick hand through your hair, and you head for the door.

The second the door swings open, you don’t even give yourself time to process. He’s here.

Jungkook barely gets a breath in before you launch yourself at him, arms wrapping around his neck, legs instinctively locking around his waist. A surprised chuckle rumbles from his chest as his strong hands catch you with ease, holding you up like you weigh nothing.

“Woah—someone missed me,” he teases, his voice rich with amusement, but there’s no mistaking the warmth in his tone.

“Of course I did,” you mumble against his skin, planting kisses all over his face—his jaw, his cheeks, his nose, anywhere your lips can reach. You feel the way his body shakes slightly with laughter, his grip on you tightening as he walks inside, shutting the door behind him without letting you go.

His scent surrounds you, warm and familiar, but there’s something different now—he’s bigger, his muscles even firmer beneath your touch, his frame broader than before. You pull back just enough to look at him properly, taking in the way his eyes soften as he gazes at you.

“Damn, baby,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a grin. “You’re not even gonna let me breathe first?”

“Not a chance,” you whisper before pressing your lips to his, your fingers threading through his oh so short hair as he holds you impossibly close.

His lips move against yours, slow at first, savoring, but then he tightens his grip, fingers pressing into your thighs as he deepens the kiss. His tongue brushes against yours, and you whimper into his mouth, your body pressing closer—desperate to just feel him.

Jungkook groans lowly, pulling back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “Fuck, baby… you have no idea how much I needed this.”

You swallow, heart pounding. “Then don’t hold back.”

His jaw clenches not wasting a second.

Before you can even process it, Jungkook is carrying you straight to the bedroom.

His lips find yours again, rougher this time, his breathing heavy as he devours your mouth. You gasp against him, fingers tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

By the time he reaches the bed, you’re dizzy from the kiss, from the sheer heat of his body surrounding you. He lowers you onto the mattress, but before you can even catch your breath, he’s on you—caging you in,  hands already roaming.

“Fuck,” he mutters, voice strained as he drags his lips along your jaw, down your neck. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this.”

His teeth graze your skin, and your body reacts instantly, arching beneath him, a soft whimper slipping past your lips.

Jungkook grins against your throat. “Missed me that much, baby?”

His tone is teasing, but the way his hands are gripping you—tells you he’s just as desperate as you are.

You don’t bother answering. Instead, you pull him down, crashing your lips against his, pouring every ounce of pent-up longing into the kiss.

It’s messy, desperate, your fingers immediately working to shove his jacket off his shoulders. He lets out a low chuckle, amused by your urgency, but he doesn’t stop you. He shrugs out of the jacket with ease before tossing it aside.

Your hands barely have time to explore before he’s pulling back, just enough to grab the hem of his t-shirt.

Your breath catches as he yanks the fabric over his head in one fluid motion, revealing the full extent of how much he’s changed.

The dim light of your room casts soft shadows over his skin, the broad set of his shoulders, the sheer size of him now.

Fuck.

Your eyes roam over him, taking in everything. The way his arms flex slightly as he tosses his shirt aside. He’s so much bigger now, so much more built than before.

Jungkook's lips curls up into a smirk, dark eyes watching you as you stare, shameless. “Like what you see?”

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, your fingers itching to feel just how solid he’s become. Instead of answering, you reach for him, gripping his wrist and pulling him back down—You need him closer.

His hands move immediately, one gripping your waist, the other sliding up your arm.

“You’re staring too much,” he murmurs, lips brushing along your jaw before trailing down to your neck, hot and slow.

Your breath hitches as his teeth graze your skin, nails digging slightly into his shoulders, “It’s distracting.”

Jungkook exhales a quiet laugh, the sound low and knowing. With one swift tug, he pulls your shirt up and over your head, tossing it aside.

His hands freeze for a second when he sees what’s underneath.

Black lace.

Delicate, barely-there black lace lingerie—the kind that clings to your curves. The kind you’ve never worn for him before.

Jungkook’s eyes darken instantly, “Fuck.” His gaze devours you, dragging over every inch of skin, before flicking back to your face.

“You wore this for me?” His tone thick with something heavy, something raw.

You nod, heat creeping up your neck, but his reaction makes you bolder. “Wanted to surprise you.”

Jungkook exhales sharply through his nose. “Baby…” He shakes his head slightly, his smirk returning, darker this time.

“You have no fucking idea what you just started."

His hands slip to your shorts, hooking his fingers into them. Slow.

“Off,” he mutters. “Now.”

And when you lift your hips, letting him strip them away, his eyes radiate just one thing—like he’s about to ruin you. Ruin you so right.

His hands hover over your skin, not quite touching yet, tongue swiping over his lower lip, eyes roaming over you, “You’re fucking dangerous,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

His hands move—gripping, spreading. Tracing their way up to your hips, dragging his fingers along the delicate lace, making sure you feel every single movement. The contrast of his rough touch against the soft fabric sends a shiver through you, your body reacting without hesitation.

“You like this?” he murmurs, his fingers teasing over the thin strap at your hip, “Wearing something this pretty—just for me?”

You barely manage a nod before he’s leaning down again, lips pressing against your stomach, open-mouthed kisses trailing lower.

His teeth graze against the sensitive fabric, right over your heat.

Your whole body jerks. A choked gasp leaves your lips.

"Relax, baby," he murmurs, his breath hot, teasing.

Jungkook’s grip tightens around your thighs, keeping them firmly in place over his shoulders. His breath warm against the soaked fabric of your lace.

His fingers slide along the delicate material, pressing just lightly over your heat, just enough to make you whimper.

His tongue flicking out just enough to make your thighs tremble.

Your frustration bubbling in your throat. “Jungkook—”

“Hm?” He looks up, smirking, eyes dark and playful.

You glare at him, panting slightly.

Jungkook chuckles, the sound deep, dangerous.

“Jungkook, please—”, you finally breathe out.

His hands flex against your thighs. “Please what?”

You swallow hard, desperate now. “Please—please touch me. No more teasing, just—”

You don’t even get to finish. Jungkook shoves the lace aside in an instant, his mouth finally pressing against your bare heat. Hot. Wet. Messy.

You cry out. He devours you whole.

“Fuck, baby,” he groans against you, hands holding you down for him. “Should’ve begged sooner.”

Your back arches off the bed, a choked moan spilling from your lips as heat floods through your veins. His tongue moves with purpose, licking up every bit of your desperation like he’s been starving for this.

“You taste so fucking good,” he mutters against you, his voice raspy. His pace steadily increasing until you’re a mess beneath him, gasping, panting.

It’s too much.

Your fingers dig into his scalp, pulling him closer, your hips moving without thinking, chasing that high that’s so, so close.

“J-Jungkook—,” you breathe out, desperate now.

And then—he pulls away.

Your eyes snap open. “Wh—”

He licks his lips, his chin glistening, smirking as he watches you. Your chest rises and falls rapidly, your legs still trembling—

“Not yet,” his eyes dark, thumb lazily tracing your inner thigh, ignoring the way you whimper, squirming under him.

You glare at him, frustration bubbling over. “You—”

“Be patient,” he mutters against your skin, smirk never fading. He loves this—loves seeing you needy, wrecked for him.

His lips trail up, enjoying the way your body reacts, the way your breathing stutters the higher he goes.

“Still looking so pretty for me.”

His fingers tracing over the thin lace barely covering your breasts. You shudder.

He licks over the lace, dragging his tongue slowly over the sensitive peak, soaking the fabric, teasing you without giving you what you need.

“Jungkook—” Your voice is breathless, hands gripping his biceps, nails digging into his skin.

He hums against you, his warm breath sending shivers down your spine. “So sensitive,” he murmurs, grinning as he does it again—slow, torturous.

One hand trails lower, skimming over your waist, before hooking into the waistband of your lace panties dragging them down your legs.

His hands return immediately, fingers dipping between your thighs.

“Already so wet for me,” Jungkook murmurs, his voice laced with satisfaction. “Messy little thing, aren’t you?”

He pushes a finger inside. A sharp gasp escaping your lips at how easily he slips in.

Your hands fly to his biceps, fingers gripping onto the hard muscle, holding on as he starts working you open.

Jungkook groans, feeling the way you clench around him, so warm, so tight.

“Fuck, baby,” he exhales, his forehead dropping to your shoulder as he adds another finger, stretching you perfectly, curling just right. His pace deep, perfect.

His lips attach to your neck, sucking, biting. He wants you covered in him, wants you to see the evidence of this all over your skin when he’s done.

Jungkook feels the way your grip on his biceps trembles, nails pressing into his skin.

His fingers curl, pressing against that spot that makes your back arch off the bed, a sharp moan slipping past your lips.

And the second he presses his thumb against your aching clit, a strangled gasp rips from your throat. The added pressure sends a sharp jolt of pleasure through you, your hips bucking against his hand instinctively, chasing the feeling.

“Be a good girl and come for me.”

His fingers move faster, deeper, his thumb pressing down just right.

“J-Jungkook—” you gasp, your voice breaking as your stomach tightens, heat rushing through you in waves.

He feels it—the way you clench around his fingers, your body shaking under his touch.

“That’s it,” he murmurs against your throat, marking you again, sucking another bruise into your skin. “Come for me, baby.”

The pleasure crashes into you all at once, ripping through your body like a storm, your back arching, your thighs trembling. Your grip on him tightening, holding onto him like he’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Jungkook groans at the sight, his fingers still pumping into you, dragging out your release. His thumb giving one last, lazy stroke over your achingly sensitive clit.

Your breath comes in ragged gasps, your grip on his shoulders tight, your nails digging in as the aftershocks ripple through you.

He pulls his fingers out bringing them to his mouth.

Your eyes widen slightly, still hazy from your high, as he licks his fingers clean.

His gaze never leaves yours.

“Fuck,” he exhales, his voice deep, wrecked, utterly sinful as he sucks the last of your release from his fingers. “Always fucking sweet.”

Jungkook’s mouth is on yours the second he finishes his filthy display, kissing you deep, consuming.

His hand slides up your body, fingers slipping beneath the lace still covering your chest.

A low groan rumbles from his chest as he cups your breast, squeezing, his thumb rolling over the hardened peak, teasing. His other hand grips your waist, holding you steady beneath him.

But you’re impatient.

The heat still buzzing through your body is too much, your need for him too overwhelming.

So you push at his chest, flipping him over in one swift motion until you’re on top.

Jungkook lets out a low, dark chuckle, his hands immediately gripping your hips, his eyes burning with lust as he watches you take control.

"Impatient, are we?" he murmurs, lips curling into a smirk.

You don’t answer. Instead, you kiss him again, messy, desperate, your hands roaming over his broad chest. His hardness presses against you through his pants and you can’t ignore it any longer.

Your fingers trail down, cupping him through the fabric. A low, gravelly groan rumbles from his throat, his hips pushing up into your hand, seeking more.

“Fuck,” he hisses, head tilting back against the pillows, eyes fluttering shut for a brief second.

You don’t waste time.

Your fingers move to his zipper, pulling it down with ease, and Jungkook lifts his hips, helping you tug his pants and boxers down.

And there he is. Hard, flushed, leaking for you.

You kiss your way down his chest, your lips skimming over his abs, leaving a heated trail.

You consider teasing him—making him suffer the way he did to you. But you’re too impatient for that.

So you lick over his tip.

Jungkook’s sharp inhale is immediate.

“Fuck,” he breathes, fingers tangling into your hair, gripping tight—just enough to keep you exactly where he wants you.

You press your tongue flat against him, as you take him deeper.

His thumb strokes along your cheek.

“Just like that, baby,” he mutters, voice thick with praise.

A sharp curse spills from his lips, his hand tightening in your hair, his hips pushing forward just enough to make you gag around him.

His thumb wiping at the corner of your mouth.

“Messy,” he murmurs, voice filled with dark amusement, his thumb pressing against your lower lip, feeling how wet and swollen it’s become. “God, you look so fucking pretty like this.”

Your thighs clenching at his words.

Jungkook’s grip in your hair tightens, pushing you down further.

Your throat tightens, a strangled gag ripping from you as your fingers instinctively tap at his thigh.

His hold loosens, his cock slipping slightly from your mouth as you gasp for air, your eyes watering as you look up at him.

Jungkook exhales heavily, his hand sliding from your hair to cradle your jaw instead, thumb stroking softly against your damp lips.

“Shit—sorry, baby,” he murmurs, but the smirk tugging at his lips tells you he’s not really sorry.

Your breath is still uneven, but you don’t hesitate—you lower yourself again, wrapping your lips back around him, taking him as deep as you can.

Jungkook groans, his fingers slipping back into your hair.

You can tell—he’s close.

The way his thighs tense, the way his groans become rougher, deeper, the way his fingers start to tug at your hair just a little more—

And then, he pulls you off him.

Yanks your head back, his cock slipping from your mouth, glistening, swollen.

His eyes burn into yours, wild, dark, filled with something dangerous.

“On all fours.”

Your stomach flutters violently, your legs weak, but you do as he says.

You shift, turning around, your hands pressing into the mattress.

His hands slide down your waist, fingers gripping, kneading, as he takes in the view.

“Fuck, baby,” he exhales, his voice filled with pure hunger.

You whimper softly, shifting impatiently, feeling the heat of his body behind you, but not enough of him.

“Needy?” His tone is mocking, but when his hand slides between your thighs, fingers teasing along your slick folds, his breath catches slightly. “God, you’re dripping for me.”

You push back against his touch, desperate for more, but he grips your hip tightly, stopping you.

“Be good,” he warns, voice low, authoritative.

You can hear it—the slick sounds of him jerking himself, as he grinds the tip against your soaked folds, teasing you mercilessly.

“Fuck,” he mutters, his voice rough, strained. “Look at you… so fucking ready for me.”

You whimper, trying to push back onto him, but his grip tightens.

Reaching over, he grabs his pants, fishing out a foil packet. You glance over your shoulder, just in time to see him rip it open with his teeth, rolling the condom onto his cock, his eyes locked onto yours the entire time.

The sight alone has your stomach tightening, your thighs clenching.

He drags himself up and down slowly, deliberately, coating himself in your slick.

You whine, pushing back onto him again, but he just chuckles.

“Impatient little thing,” he murmurs, his lips suddenly right against your ear. His teeth graze the shell, biting down lightly before he soothes the sting with his tongue.

“You wanted this, baby,” he breathes, voice deep, velvety, dripping with control. “Now, you’re gonna take it.”

He pushes in.

A gasp rips from your throat, your fingers clenching the sheets as he stretches you open, filling you inch by inch.

Jungkook groans behind you, his grip on your hip tightening, his cock throbbing as he bottoms out, completely buried inside you.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters through gritted teeth, his head falling back for a second, his body trembling slightly as you both adjust to the feeling.

His hips pull back, just enough to make you feel the drag—before he slams back in, a sharp thrust that knocks the breath from your lungs.

A shattered moan escapes you, your body rocking forward, but Jungkook doesn’t let you go.

Instead—he grabs a fistful of your hair, yanking you upright, your back flush against his solid, burning chest.

His mouth is on you immediately, kissing, sucking, biting at your throat, his free hand spreading over your stomach, pulling you tighter against him.

“Tell me how much you missed me, baby,” he murmurs against your already bruised skin, his hips still snapping into you, deep, devastating.

You bite your lip, smirking slightly despite the overwhelming pleasure, deciding to test him, just a little.

“No,” you breathe, teasing, taunting.

Jungkook freezes for half a second—before he groans, low and dangerous.

His hand moves up, fingers wrapping around your throat, firm—just enough to make you feel it, just enough to remind you who’s in control.

A dark chuckle spills from his lips as he leans in, his breath hot against your ear.

“Didn’t have my cock shoved in your pussy for months, and this is how bratty you’ve become?” he mocks, his fingers squeezing slightly, his other hand gripping your waist, holding you still as he thrusts into you harder, deeper, punishing.

His grip on your throat lingering for a moment before he releases you—only to push you down, pressing your head into the pillow.

His hips snap forward, knocking the air from your lungs. Your moan is muffled against the pillow, but it doesn’t matter—he hears it anyway.

You’re a mess beneath him, your hands gripping at the sheets, your body rocking forward with each powerful thrust.

“Feel that?” he pants, taunting, his hand sliding from your back down to your ass, squeezing. “That’s what you’ve been missing, baby.”

Jungkook groans at the way you clench around him, his grip on you tightening, his pace turning brutal, relentless.

“That’s right,” he mutters, teeth gritted, voice wrecked. “Fucking take it.”

Jungkook feels the way your body tenses, the way your walls flutter around him, and he knows—you’re close.

So he moves his free hand, slipping between your legs, fingers finding your clit.

A sharp, wrecked gasp rips from your throat as he circles it, firm with his pounding thrusts.

“Come for me, baby,” he groans, his voice low, commanding.

Your legs shake violently, your thighs tightening, and then—you snap.

Pleasure crashes through you, blinding, overwhelming, your moans breaking apart as your body convulses beneath him. Your walls pulse around him, dragging him deeper into your orgasm, milking every last wave of bliss.

But Jungkook doesn’t stop.

His hips keep slamming into you, riding out your high, his movements still relentless, consuming.

Your body jerks, overstimulated, the pleasure unbearable now.

“Too much—” you choke out, your voice broken, shaking.

Jungkook leans over you, panting, pressing his lips to your shoulder, his voice rough, strained.

“One more, baby,” he murmurs against your sweaty skin, his breath hot, desperate. “Give me one more.”

You whimper, shaking your head weakly, but he feels the way your body reacts, the way you’re already spiraling again, trapped in his rhythm, in his control.

And then—it hits you.

Your second orgasm slams into you suddenly, shattering through your already wrecked body. You cry out, your walls clenching down on him, and that’s all it takes—

Jungkook groans, his hips slamming into you one last time, burying himself deep as his release finally overtakes him.

A low, wrecked moan leaves his lips as his body shudders against yours, his fingers digging into your hips, holding you tight as he spills into the condom.

For a moment, neither of you move, your bodies tangled, trembling, completely spent.

Jungkook exhales heavily, pressing one last, lingering kiss to your shoulder, his hands soothing over your body, grounding you.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his voice hoarse, satisfied, full of something deeper. “You’re… unreal."

You let out a weak, breathless laugh, turning your head slightly to meet his half-lidded, blissed-out gaze.

You both collapse onto the bed, Jungkook still buried deep inside you, your bodies tangled, sticky with sweat, breathing heavy, uneven.

Neither of you speak for a while, just taking your time, letting the warmth of each other sink in. His arms wrap around you, pulling you close, his chest rising and falling against your back.

After a few moments, his lips find your skin.

Soft, warm kisses pressed to your shoulder, your neck, your jaw. His hands glide over your waist, soothing.

“You okay, baby?” he murmurs against your skin, his voice softer now, filled with something tender.

You nod, turning your face slightly toward him, feeling a little shy now that the intensity has faded.

Jungkook’s lips brush against your temple as he murmurs, “Was I too rough?” His voice is softer.

You shake your head, feeling a little shy now, but your voice is steady when you say, “No… I loved it.”

A low chuckle rumbles from his chest.

Slowly, he pulls out, making you shudder slightly at the loss of him. He presses one last kiss to your shoulder before getting up, disposing of the condom.

He returns—with a warm towel cleaning you up carefully, gently, his touch soft, eyes flickering up to yours every now and then, making sure you’re okay.

Once he’s done, he tosses the towel aside and slides back into bed, immediately pulling you into his arms. His body is warm, solid, safe, fingers tracing light patterns over your bare back.

For a while, you both just lay there, wrapped up in each other.

After a moment, you murmur into his chest, “When are you leaving?”

Jungkook sighs softly, his grip on you tightening slightly, like he doesn’t want to answer.

“Tomorrow morning,” he finally says, voice quieter.

Your stomach sinks a little, but before you can dwell on it, he tilts your chin up, making you meet his gaze.

A small smirk tugs at his lips, fingers sliding down your spine, slow and teasing.

“But,” he whispers, his voice low, filled with promise, “I still have time to make the most of tonight.”

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[pillowtalk6]

I love hobei so much 🩷

Hobie meets your cats for the first time.

Pairing: Hobie Brown x f!Reader / Spider-Punk x f!Reader

Word count: 1.8k

Tags: Smut Implied, Kissing, established relationship, no use of Y/N, No specific physical description of the reader.

Synopsis: your cats interrupt your alone time with Hobie.

My Masterlist

*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms*

Your keys jingle in your hands as you try and find the right key to your flat, you would've found it earlier, if it weren't for Hobie hugging you from behind while kissing your neck distractingly. 

"Hobie, can you wait till we get inside?" You crane your neck to look at him. You sigh in pleasure.

"Mmph?" He answers while his lips are still on your skin. 

"I can't find my keys, you're distracting me" you try not to move your neck to the left to give him more access to your skin, you bite your tongue instead to focus on choosing the right key. 

Hobie stops kissing you for a moment to grab your key ring from your fumbling hands. "Let me try" 

You miss the press of his lips on your skin when he pulls away, still reeling from the feeling, you forgot to roll your eyes at Hobie. This is his first time at your place. How would he know which key?

Click

Of course the door opens after only two tries. Hobie smirks at you teasingly. 

You finally roll your eyes, snatching your keys from Hobie swiftly. 

The second you're inside, Hobie attacks your neck once again, pushing you towards a wall, he cages you in his arms as he pushes the door closed with his foot. 

He kisses the underside of your chin, forcing you to look at your beige ceiling. He nips and licks at your skin passionately. Grabbing the back of his neck to guide him towards your lips, you kiss him, while your free hand grabs one of his belt loops to pull him towards you, closing in the small gap between you. Heat emanates from the both of you. 

Meow

A small mewl stops you both in your tracks, you both look to the side breathlessly, stuck in the same position, Hobie raises his brow.

"Oi, bruv, d'you mind? We're having a moment here" He gestures to you. 

"Meoww" the orange tabby cat pushes her empty bowl in front of her. The sound of the bowl moving across your wooden floors acts like a dinner bell, two more cats appear from somewhere.

"Ah, shit, it's way past their feeding time" you look at Hobie apologetically. 

"I don't mind" he pecks your lips, as if to say: we'll continue this later.

"I'm really sorry," You rub his kiss bitten lips with your thumb to swipe some sheen off them "I'll make it up to you later, I promise" 

You turn your back from Hobie still holding his hand, you slowly let go when you went further in your home. 

Once you're in your kitchen preparing their food, Hobie crouches down in front of the orange tubby.

"Cockblocker" he scoffs while Hobie holds out his hand for the cat to smell. The cat tentatively sniffs at his outstretched hand. Once she's satisfied, she bumps her head on his hand. She looks at the other cats then back to Hobie.

The other two follow her lead and they both sniff at him, one of them, a cream colored shorthair, moves towards Hobie's legs, she begins to circle around him while she rubs her face on his leg. 

The last cat, black as the night, stares at Hobie with his bright green eyes, his eyes turn to slits as if to say - you're good to stay, but I'm watching you.

You finally head back to Hobie, Gasping at the scene in front of you. 

"Oh. My. God." You squeal, quickly grab your phone to snap a picture of the adorable moment. 

Hobie looks up at you "guess they like me" he gives you a lopsided smile, the previous emotion slowly dissipates around you both.

"This is a miracle, they usually don't like new people" 

Hobie stands up to his full height, careful not to step on the cats. "They've probably smelled me off you before" 

Heat rises on your cheeks with his implication, you cross your arms to not give away the effect he has on you. He saunters towards you, the cats run off towards their food. 

"Do you have catnip on you?" You eye him suspiciously. 

Hobie chuckles deeply "Nah, cats just have a natural affinity towards me" he grabs your face lovingly, "you wanna frisk me, to make sure?" He gives you his signature smirk. 

You let out a breath you've been holding. He comes closer to you until he's mere inches away,

"Fuckin' hell! What is that?" 

He lets you go, running towards your cat tree. Your excitement deflates. 

"It's their cat tree, the employee at the pet store called it a cat condo" you huff at another interruption. 

"A condo? Love, that's a full on mansion right there" he gestures toward the expansive structure, numerous branches, platforms and cubbies hang on it. 

"Too much?" You wince, terrified he might get turned off by it. 

"For them? Nah, I'm sure it's worth every penny" he looks at it, curious to see if he can DIY a few more floors to add to it.

"You wanna meet them formally?" He turns back around, he sees you carrying the orange tubby, her full stomach protruding.

"Yes," Hobie says a little too fast. 

You bounce the orange blob, "her name's Crumpet! She's the oldest one," you whisper the next part "I adopted her five years ago" 

"Why are you whispering?" 

"Because she doesn't know she's adopted" you whisper back. 

Hobie looks at you fondly, "dork" he softly says as he holds Crumpet's paw, "your mum's a dork" he looks at Crumpet with a smile. 

"Myeow" she answers back 

"I think that means she knows" you chuckle at your own joke.

"You're my dork" Hobie leans towards you for a kiss, he finds you adorable, he thinks you deserve a kiss just for that. 

Before he could though, he felt movement around his leg. He looks down to see your other cat, the cream colored one. 

"Oh," you clear your throat, trying to push down your excitement again. "That one is Teacup, When I got her she was so tiny she could fit inside a teacup" 

Hobie chuckles at the name "Tea and Crumpets, then?"

You nod, "Yep, and that one," you point with your head since your hands are occupied, at the black void sitting on top of your kitchen counter, looking directly at Hobie. "Is Crowley!" 

Upon hearing his name, Crowley drops down gracefully, he rubs his face on your leg, purring loudly. 

"He's a bit overprotective, ain't he?" Hobie looks at Crowley. Crowley glared at Hobie when he spoke. 

"Well, he is the man of the house" you shrug, as you sit down on your sofa. 

The second your back hit the soft plush of the sofa, your other two cats ran towards you, Crowley curls around himself on your lap while Teacup sits next to you looking at Hobie, like she's waiting for him.

You notice Hobie still standing, inviting him to sit next to you by patting the space closest to you. 

"Nyeow" Teacup whines towards Hobie.

"Can't say no to that" Hobie heads towards the space next to you, lifting up Teacup by her arms so he could sit closer to you. He places Teacup on his lap, she curls around herself immediately, purring loudly.

"It's a bit concerning how much she likes you" you softly say, craning your neck to look at Hobie lovingly petting Teacup. 

Hobie puts his non-petting arm around your shoulders moving you closer to him. "She has good taste, just like her mum" he leans towards your lips, slowly closing the gap. 

"Do you really like them? They're not too much?" You whisper against his lips before they meet.

"How could anyone not like 'em? They're perfect, even Crowley" 

You laugh at his jab, "Didn't peg you as a cat person" 

Hobie rubs your cheek endearingly "haven't I told you I'm a cat guy?" 

Hobie guides your face towards his again, when you suddenly gasp. 

"I forgot! I need to give you something" you drop Crumpet on his shoulder, while Crowley moves towards the sofa's armrest. "Be right back" pecking his lips.

"I've got it!" You emerge from the sides holding something. Sitting back down you give the small patch to Hobie. 

Hobie looks at the menacing aura emanating from the arm rest. He sees Crowley perched elegantly, his emerald eyes staring directly at Hobie. While Crumpet sways her tail across Hobie's chest, still perched on his shoulders.

Hobie stares back at Crowley, teasingly smirking at the cat.

"I think he's planning my murder" Hobie points out. 

"Aww he's a sweetheart, you'll win him eventually" you say while petting the void next to you, Crowley sits unmoving still staring daggers at Hobie. 

"Right, what's this?" Hobie looks at the piece of cloth in his hand. 

"It's a patch! I made it for you, y'know to add to your jacket" you ramble on to hide your sudden shyness. 

The patch has a stitched cartoon version of Crowley holding a knife in his mouth, the bottom of the design reads- 'piss off' 

"You made this?" He feels the stitches with his thumb. 

You bite your lip while nodding "you like it? I saw that you have a cat patch already, so I made you another one, she seemed lonely" 

"It's fuckin' gorgeous, lovey" He grabs your face in excitement, he kisses every inch of your face with a loud smooch in-between. 

Before he could finally kiss your lips, he heard a hiss from behind you. 

"Crowley!" You look behind you. "Don't be mean!" 

"Nope" Hobie grabs you by the back of your legs, He lifts you up with ease. You gasp while instinctively wrapping your legs around his hips. 

"What are you doing?" You laugh at his shenanigans. 

"You're my human shield" he says while he peeks at Crowley over your shoulder. 

"He's harmless" you giggle, as if on cue, Crowley raises his hips with a hiss, readying to pounce. 

"Okay, maybe not" you wrap your arms around Hobie's neck while he jumps towards your ceiling. He sticks to it by his hands and feet, while you use him as your personal hammock. 

"He can't reach us up here, right?" He asks you. 

You peek over his shoulder to see Crowley trying to reach you by jumping, while Teacup meows upward, Crumpet sleeps on the couch unbothered. 

You hide behind Hobie, cuddling his torso, the height giving you vertigo. 

"Don't worry, I've got you" he pats your behind before sticking his hand back on the ceiling. "Let me kiss you better" 

You lean up to look at his face, smirking in victory. "Was this a ruse to get me alone?" 

"Know me so well" he chuckles against your lips. You cup his face to stabilize yourself against his body. 

Kissing him back, you hear Crowley's mewls for you to come down.

A/n: Thank you for reading! Comments, likes and reblogs are always appreciated! ❤️

*picture above is from pinterest*

[killerplink]

SHIFT

Pairing: Dick Grayson x Female Reader

Plot: You spend the whole night teasing Dick—subtle touches, flirty whispers, pressing up against him just to watch him struggle. But the second you're alone? He snaps. You wanted to play? Now you're taking everything he's been holding back.

Words: 7,1k

CW: established relationship, 18+, smut, butt slapping, rough sex, vaginal fingering, edging, multiple orgasms, creampie

Dick fucking hates clubs. The loud music, the sweaty bodies pressing too close, the overpriced drinks, it's everything he actively avoids. But you wanted to go, and, well, there's nothing he won't do for you.

He keeps an arm around you the whole night, not because he's possessive—okay, maybe a little—but because you look too damn good in that tiny dress, and he's had to glare down more than one pair of wandering eyes. You're all over him: draped around his shoulders, whispering against his jaw, grinding against his thigh like you don't give a shit who's watching.

And maybe you don't.

Maybe it's the cocktails, or maybe you just love pushing him to the edge, seeing how much he can take before he snaps. Either way, his patience is running on fumes by the time he gets you in the car.

Now, as he drives home, his knuckles tight on the wheel, you're still at it���still teasing, still testing him.

"Dick," you hum, voice all soft and sweet, your head resting against his shoulder.

You drag your nails down his thigh, just barely brushing against his cock through his jeans.

He tenses, jaw clenching. "Baby."

His voice is warning, firm, but you don't give a shit.

You shift closer, lips ghosting against his neck, pressing a kiss to his pulse point. "You're so tense, baby..." Another kiss, this time against his sharp jawline. "Should let me help you relax."

Dick exhales through his nose. "You've had too much to drink."

"So?" you purr, shameless. Your fingers move higher, tracing the outline of his hard dick. "You're so hard, my love."

He curses under his breath, adjusting his grip on the wheel. "Of course I am," he mutters. "You spent all night rubbing your ass on me like a little brat."

You giggle, shifting in your seat, pressing your thighs together. You're soaked, your panties sticking to your cunt, and you know he knows. He can see it, smell it, feel the heat radiating off you.

"Can't help it," you murmur, lips brushing against his ear. "You're so fucking sexy, baby."

His grip tightens on the wheel, and you swear his foot presses just a little harder on the gas.

"We're almost home," he mutters. "Behave."

But you? Oh, you don't behave. You slip a hand between your thighs, pushing your dress up just enough for him to see. You let your fingers trail over your soaked panties, gasping softly at the contact, putting on a show just for him.

And when he glances down—just for a second, just to see what the fuck you're doing—he groans, deep and frustrated, gripping the wheel like it's the only thing keeping him from losing his mind.

You don't stop there. No, you drag your fingers up, pressing against the damp fabric, rubbing slow, lazy circles right where you know it'll make you shiver. Your other hand grips your thigh, spreading yourself open just a little more, just enough to drive him insane.

"Fuck," he grits out, knuckles turning white on the wheel. His jaw clenches so hard you think it might snap. "You're testing me, sweetheart."

"Mmm," you hum, teasing yourself right in front of him, letting out a soft whimper just to push him further. "You don't like it? Thought you liked watching me, my love."

His breath shudders, and his grip tightens, muscles flexing as he struggles to keep his focus on the road. His eyes flick between you and the street ahead, torn between staying in control and pulling over to ruin you.

"Baby," he sighs, his voice strained, dangerous. "You're really testing me tonight."

"Good," you pout, wide, pleading eyes locking onto his. "I need you."

And fuck, if that doesn't snap the last thread of his self-control. Dick knows you too well by now. Knows how you get when you've had one too many cocktails, how you love to test him sometimes, to push just to see how far you can go before he snaps. And usually? He doesn't let you get to him like this.

Usually, he's more composed. He can handle it because he expects it. Because he knows you. He sees the glint in your eyes before you even make a move, can read you like the back of his hand. But tonight?

Tonight, he's fucking struggling.

Maybe it's the dress—the one he loves, the one that hugs your curves just right and rides up dangerously high when you sit. Or maybe it's the way you look right now, flushed and giggling, a little tipsy, a little messy, so fucking breathtaking he can barely stand it.

Either way, the fifteen-minute drive home is pure torture.

His cock is throbbing, painfully hard, pressing tight against his jeans, and all he can think about is you. Your soft moans, the way you touch yourself just to tease him, the way your fingers trembled when they brushed over your soaked panties.

Fuck. He grips the wheel tighter, jaw clenched so hard it aches, forcing himself to focus on the road instead of the filthy thoughts running through his head.

Because if he thinks about it too much? He's definitely pulling over. Pulling you into his lap, yanking that little dress up around your waist, sinking into your dripping pussy and fucking you right here, right now.

But somehow—somehow—he makes it home without losing his goddamn mind.

The second he parks, he's out of the car, moving fast to open your door. But you're even faster, throwing yourself against him, pressing soft, sloppy kisses against his neck as he exhales sharply.

"Baby," he mutters, trying—trying—to sound stern, but you just hum, nuzzling against his jaw.

Then comes the elevator. You're quiet at first, a little sheepish, standing close but not too close. But the second the doors close? Oh, you're an absolute menace.

At the same time you press the button, you press back against him, your ass grinding against his hard cock like you need him to feel how wet you are, how much you want him. His hands snap to your hips, gripping tight, a weak attempt to stop you, but he can't fool you.

"You're so hard," you whisper, voice all sweet and teasing, rolling your hips just enough to make him groan.

He exhales sharply, fingers digging into your waist. "You're cruel, my love."

You moan, just to push him further, just to make him suffer, and fuck, he can feel how badly you want this, how hot and slick you are even through your panties.

But then, the elevator dings.

And like you weren't just grinding against his dick, like you weren't just whimpering for him, you peel yourself away, stepping out with a little sway in your hips, heels clacking against the floor as you walk toward your shared apartment.

He doesn't move for a second. Just stands there, hands clenched, dick aching, trying to comprehend the fact that you just left him like that. You fumble with your keys, giggling when you can't quite get the door open, and he sighs—trying to sound exasperated, but you know better. He's not fooling anyone.

His large hand lands over yours, steadying you just enough to push the key in the lock and open the door. And then? Then you step inside, looking back at him with that wicked, teasing little smile, like you know he's about to ruin you.

But before he can grab you, before he can even shut the door properly, you take full advantage of just how worked up he is. You press back against him, ass grinding right against his dick, slow and deliberate, feeling just how hard he is for you.

His breath punches out in a harsh growl, hands snapping to your hips so tight it's almost bruising. "You're playing a dangerous game."

"Am I?" you murmur, pushing back again, rolling your hips in a way that makes him curse under his breath. His cock twitches against you, and you grin, knowing just how much you're getting to him. "Doesn't feel like you mind."

"Fuck," he grits out, pressing you against the nearest wall, hips grinding right back into you, making you feel just how much you've been teasing him. "You really think you can pull this shit and not pay for it?"

Your only answer is another slow grind, dragging your ass right over the outline of his cock, feeling the heat of him through both layers of fabric. The way he shudders, the way his fingers dig into your hips—it's intoxicating.

His patience? Snapped. And you? You're about to find out exactly how he plans to handle you.

You step inside the hallway with a soft, breathy hum, throwing your keys into the little basket by the door before carelessly tossing your purse onto the coat rack. Then you kick off your heels, sighing as the ache in your feet fades.

Behind you, Dick moves slower. Slipping off his jacket, kicking off his shoes, rolling his shoulders like he's trying to shake off the tension. But the second that door finally clicks shut, the second the world outside disappears? He's on you.

Big hands grip your waist, spinning you around so fast it makes you gasp. And then he's crowding you against the wall, his chest pressed against yours, his breathing slow and deep, like he's trying, really trying, to control himself.

"You think that was funny?" he murmurs, voice low, dangerous.

Your breath catches as you ask in a soft, almost sheepish tone, "What, baby?"

He huffs out a quiet laugh, but there's no humor in it, just pure, raw frustration. "Grinding on me all night. Acting so sweet, so innocent, then leaving me hard as fuck in the club? In the car? In the damn elevator?" His fingers dig into your hips, his lips ghosting over yours. "That was cruel, sweetheart."

Your stomach flips, a rush of heat flooding between your legs. "I—"

Smack.

Your words cut off in a choked moan as his palm cracks against your ass, the sharp, stinging heat stealing the breath from your lungs.

Oh. Oh, he's never done that before. And fuck, you love it.

You make a soft, desperate sound, and Dick stills. You feel the tension in him, the hesitation, like he's waiting, watching, trying to see if he's crossed a line. But you arch into him, pressing your ass back against his hand, silently begging for more.

His breath shudders out of him, and then—

Smack.

The second one lands harder, sending another sharp, electric jolt straight to your aching cunt. You whimper, thighs clenching together, and fuck, Dick feels it. The way your body responds, the way you melt for him, eating it up like you were made for it.

He groans, his hand smoothing over the sting, then gripping hard. "Yeah?" he murmurs, his other hand tangling in your hair, tilting your head back so he can see your face. "You like that, don't you?"

You bite your lip, nodding quickly, breathless. "Yes. Fuck, yes."

He exhales harshly, his cock twitching against your stomach, throbbing. And then? Then he grins.

"Well, in that case..." he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw, his fingers kneading the soft flesh of your ass, teasing, promising. "Let's see just how much you like it."

He spins you around, pressing you up against the wall before you can even catch your breath. His grip is firm, unyielding—one hand on your hip, the other splayed over your lower back, guiding you exactly where he wants you.

And you? You don't hesitate. You know what he wants.

Your hands brace against the wall as you arch your back, pushing your ass up and out, grinding against his dick like you need to feel him. A deep, ragged breath leaves his lips, his fingers tightening on your hip as his cock twitches, aching for you, for relief.

Fuck.

He scrunches your dress up around your waist, shoving the fabric aside, only to be met with the sight of your little red panties, soaked straight through. Jesus Christ. He can see the shape of your pretty little pussy through the lace, the way your folds cling to the delicate fabric, drenched, so wet you've left a spot on his jeans.

And suddenly, he's fighting with himself.

Because fuck, he wants you. Wants to drop to his knees and bury his face between your legs, to fuck you with his tongue until you're begging, gasping, sobbing his name. That's what he usually does, after all. Dick Grayson never fucks before he tastes. It's his rule, his ritual, his religion.

But tonight? Tonight, you've been a brat.

Grinding on him all night, touching him like it was nothing, teasing him with those pretty, drunken smiles while he sat there, barely holding himself together. You knew what you were doing, and you didn't stop, not even in the car, not even when he warned you.

And maybe you thought you'd get away with it. Cute.

A third option slithers into his mind, sharp and wicked. He exhales slowly, dragging his palm over the swell of your ass, feeling the heat of your skin through the thin lace of your panties.

And then? He presses his fingers against your cunt, rubbing you through the slick fabric, slow, torturous, just the barest pressure over your clit, up and down, teasing.

The noise you make is sinful—a soft, needy moan as you roll your hips, seeking more, seeking him.

He doesn't give it to you. Instead, he slaps your ass, sharp and quick, watching the way you jolt, the way your thighs clench together like you felt it between your legs.

And he swears—swears—he sees your pussy flutter around nothing, even through the fabric.

Oh, you really like this.

He groans, low and deep, as he hooks a single finger into the band of your panties, dragging them to the side and exposing your soaked cunt to the cool air of the room. He watches, fascinated, as your folds glisten, all slick and swollen, so pretty, so needy. But he's not done teasing you.

He slides two fingers between your folds, trailing up and down, deliberately missing your entrance, barely brushing your clit. The way you tremble against him, the way your breath hitches every time he almost gives you what you want—it's driving him insane.

"Baby, please," you gasp, voice breathy, desperate.

He groans, slapping your ass again. Your walls clench around nothing, and his cock throbs, painfully hard, aching to be buried deep inside you. But no, not yet. Because he's curious to see how much you can take.

Your whimper is pathetic, desperate, when you try to grind down against his fingers, seeking more—seeking anything—and he pulls them away. You whine, high and needy, hips rolling, chasing after the touch he just denied you.

But Dick? Oh, he's enjoying this far too much.

His cock is aching, thick and heavy, straining against his clothes, the damp fabric sticking to him from how much precum he's leaking. His whole body feels hot, his blood thick in his veins, his self-control hanging by a thread.

And yet, he can hold himself back a little longer. And he will.

He hums, dragging a single finger down your folds, pressing lightly against your clit, circling it—slow, lazy, like he has all the time in the world. You shudder, your thighs trembling as you press your forehead against the wall, panting softly. Then, without warning, he slides one finger inside you.

You gasp, your slick heat sucking him in immediately, coating him in wetness.

He keeps the pace slow, deliberate, thrusting his finger in and out with steady precision, feeling the way your walls clench around him, already so fucking tight. You push back against his hand, desperate for more, needing more, only for his finger to slip out entirely.

"Fuck," you breathe, frustrated, needy, your cunt clenching around nothing.

Dick smirks because God, you're getting so frustrated, and he loves it. His free hand moves to your ass, spreading you open so he can see better, his breath catching at the way your glistening folds twitch, your arousal dripping down onto your thighs.

"Messy little thing," he murmurs, more to himself than you, but you hear it anyway.

Your breath stutters. Dick doesn't tease you like this. Not verbally, at least. But tonight? Tonight, he's feeling cruel. He resumes fingering you, adding a second finger, stretching you just a little, his thumb rolling over your clit in slow, tight circles.

"Look at you," he mutters, almost toying with the words, like he knows how much they affect you. "You wanted my attention so badly, and now? You can't even ask for it properly."

Your pussy clenches around his fingers, and he groans, dragging them out almost all the way before plunging them back inside.

"Come on," he goads, voice deep, smug. "Use your words, sweetheart. Tell me what you want."

Your nails scrape against the wall, frustration bubbling over, because you do—you do use your words. "Baby—"

And then... he pulls his fingers out. You sob, thighs shaking, your cunt clenching, unclenching, desperate, so close, so needy, so fucking ruined. But he's not done playing with you yet. Not even close.

Because just as your walls flutter around nothing, aching, desperate to be filled, he slides them back in—slowly, so fucking slowly, stretching you all over again, making you feel every inch, every knuckle as he sinks them deep inside your dripping, swollen cunt.

The wet, obscene squelch of your slick-soaked pussy makes his cock throb, and he groans, curling his fingers just right, rubbing against that spot that makes you jerk, makes you keen, makes you shudder.

"Ohhh, fuck, Dick—"

You're trembling, moaning, arms weak as they brace against the wall, legs barely holding you up. Your cunt is wrecked, aching, stretched wide around his fingers as they pump in and out of you.

He's fucking you with them, really fucking you with them now. Hard, fast, each thrust making your slick, messy pussy squelch obscenely. His palm is rubbing against your swollen clit with every movement, sending sharp spikes of pleasure through your already-overstimulated body.

You feel so close, so fucking close, your orgasm curling low in your belly, threatening to snap at any second. Your moans are getting higher, faster, desperate. You can feel it, feel it about to—

He stops and pulls his fingers out entirely.

Your cunt clenches and unclenches around nothing, a pathetic little sob escaping your lips as you whimper, "No, no, baby—please, please..."

"Tsk."

The sound is sharp, cutting through your desperation, making your breath hitch.

And then—

A crack. His large hand lands against your already-flushed ass, a sharp sting blooming across your skin, your walls fluttering from the impact. But before you can so much as moan, he soothes it instantly, grabbing, squeezing, kneading your sore flesh.

"Look at you," he murmurs, voice deep, filthy, full of mock sympathy. "So wet, so fucking desperate, dripping all over my fingers like a needy little thing."

Your head is spinning. Your legs are shaking. You're dying. "Please—baby, I can't—"

"Oh, you can."

He shoves his fingers back inside you, hard, your body jolting forward with the sudden stretch. You wail, eyes squeezing shut, back arching as he fucks you hard and fast, his fingers scissoring inside you, stretching you wider as he pumps them deep.

Your walls clench tight, soaking him, making a mess down your thighs. His free hand grips your ass, spreading you open, letting him see the way your pussy flutters and squeezes around his fingers.

"Look at you," he rasps, voice thick, wrecked. "So fucking greedy. You wanted my attention all night, and now you have it. So take it."

Your whole body shudders, his filthy words making your clit throb, making you tighten around his fingers. Your breath catches, muscles locking up as the pleasure spikes too high, too fast, and you know—you know you're about to cum—

And then he stops. Again. Pulls his fingers out. Again. Leaves you a moaning, trembling, ruined fucking mess.

You sob, whining so fucking pathetically, tears pricking your eyes, "Dick, please, I—"

He leans in close. So close you feel his breath against your ear, warm and thick with control.

"You're cumming on my dick," he murmurs, voice low, dangerous, "or not at all."

Your breath catches. And then you hear it. The sound of his belt being undone. The slow zip of his jeans. The soft click of a button. Your heart pounds. You don't dare move. Don't dare breathe. And you fight the urge to glance over your shoulder.

But then you feel it.

Hot, thick, heavy, his dick, pressing between your soft thighs, grinding against your drenched, aching pussy. You whimper, your whole body twitching as he slides between your folds, coating himself in your arousal, his cock dragging slow, deep against your clit.

"God," he groans, voice strained, the swollen head of his cock bumping against your entrance, notching against you, teasing you. "You're dripping. Making a mess all over me, baby."

Your thighs clench around him, slick and warm, making his dick pulse, and you know he's barely holding on.

"Oh, f-fuck."

You're shaking. Whimpering. So soaked you can hear it, each slow, deliberate glide of his cock through your slick folds, each teasing drag of his heavy length over your swollen clit, each lazy, torturous grind against your aching entrance.

It's cruel, the way he does it—his dick throbbing, leaking precum that mixes with the mess between your thighs, the heat of him smearing against your folds, spreading you open just enough to feel it.

To feel him. But not inside. Not where you need him. He slides against your entrance, lets the thick head of his cock push just barely in, lets you feel the stretch, lets you tremble around the intrusion.

And then he pulls back. Slow. Purposeful. Your pussy clenches around nothing. And you sob, pushing back, trying to catch him, trying to make him slip in, but he's faster.

"Ah-ah, my love," he murmurs, strong fingers tightening around your hips, keeping you still as he drags his cock up again, slick and fever-hot, pressing against your clit until your breath catches and your thighs shake.

"So desperate, aren't you?"

He grins when you nod, when you whine, hips twitching, trying to get something, anything, but he denies you again, shoving your panties farther to the side so he can feel every last inch of your messy, aching cunt. His cock pulses, needy, heavy against your folds. And you are soaked.

So wet, it coats his length in a shiny, glistening sheen, his cock sliding effortlessly between your lips, so slick he can feel it drip down his balls, making a filthy mess of both of you. And yet, he still doesn't give it to you.

"Dick, please—"

Your voice is broken, breathless, needy, and it's exactly what he wanted. But instead of giving in, he just smirks. And then he slaps your ass. Hard. The sound echoes through the room, sharp, obscene, your body jolting, pussy clenching so tight he can feel it, even without being inside.

"Please, what?" he breathes, grinding against your slit again, the fat tip of his cock nudging your entrance, teasing your clenching hole.

You cry out, words slurring together as you moan his name, pushing back against him, desperate for him to fill you.

"You're so fucking messy," he rasps, his voice thick, rough. "Such a wet little thing."

Your walls clench around nothing, your body begging for him to finally just—

"Baby, please, I—"

The words die on your tongue the second you feel it. The hot, swollen head of his dick pressing against your aching entrance, thick and leaking, already so fucking hard it makes your thighs tremble. And then he pushes inside.

The stretch is instant, a slow, searing burn that has your lips parting, a gasp breaking free from your throat as your body struggles to take him. He's just so thick, so big, and no matter how many times he fucks you, no matter how many times his fingers work you open beforehand, it's never enough.

He always splits you open so fucking good, always fills you so deep, the blunt head of his cock dragging through your slick, squeezing walls, forcing you to take him, inch by aching inch.

Your pussy flutters, clenching around him, trying to adjust to the stretch, and he groans—a deep, gritted sound that rumbles through his chest as he grips your hips, holding you still, holding you open for him.

"Fuck, baby—"

His voice is wrecked, raw and shaking with restraint as your walls pulse around him, so tight, so wet he slides in almost effortlessly, your slick making a filthy mess of his cock, coating him, dripping down his balls as he sinks deep—

Deeper.

So fucking deep, stuffing you to the brim, his thick cock stretching you open, forcing you to take all of him, and your whole body shudders. And him? He loses it. His restraint—his precious, steady control—snaps like a goddamn rubber band.

Until he bottoms out with a harsh grind of his hips, until he's buried to the hilt, his heavy balls flush against your swollen clit, his cock filling you, stretching you, forcing your body to take him all. And fuck, he feels it.

How hot you are, how tight, how your pussy clings to him, sucking him in so deep he swears he can feel it in his bones, his teeth gritting as you pulse and squeeze around him like you never want to let him go.

And maybe you don't. Because nothing—nothing—feels better than this. Than him.

You're tight. Hot. Warm. Clenching around him. And the way you squeeze him—fuck—his head spins, his vision blurring. His fingers dig into your hips, the bruises already forming, but he can't help it. He pulls out, only to slam right back in.

"Baby—"

Your moan breaks, your body jolting against him as he starts fucking you. Hard. Deep. Fast. The slap of skin against skin echoes through the apartment, obscene, filthy, wet.

He drives into you, his hips snapping forward with a force that has your body rocking, has your thighs trembling, has your pussy clenching around his thick cock like you can't help it.

The way you squeeze him, the way your slick drips down his shaft, making a mess of his balls, making it easier for him to slam into you, deeper, rougher, making your pussy stretch and mold around him, like your body was made to take him.

And you're so fucking tight. So warm, so wet, so needy, your walls fluttering, gripping him like you don't want him to pull out, like you need him, need every inch, need every ruthless, punishing thrust that makes you whimper, that makes your knees threaten to buckle beneath you.

But he doesn't let you fall.

His grip on your hips is firm, unyielding, possessive, fingers digging into your soft skin, keeping you steady as he ruins you, as he forces you to take it, every brutal snap of his hips, every stroke of his cock dragging along your aching, swollen walls, pressing so deep it feels like he's in your fucking throat.

Your pussy clamps around him, and he grunts, the sound low and rough, his rhythm stuttering for just a second before he drives into you harder, making you gasp, making your eyes roll back, making a fresh wave of slick spill down your thighs.

And he loves it. Loves how messy you are, how fucking perfect you feel around him, how your cunt flutters and clenches every time he slams deep, every time his heavy balls slap against your slick, swollen clit, every time his cock stretches you to your limit, but you still take it. You still need it.

And he gives it to you.

Fucking you like he owns you. Like you belong to him. Like he's not stopping until you're falling apart around his dick, soaking him, creaming all over him, until your body is trembling, until you're so fucked out, so wrecked, you can't take another second.

"You wanted this, huh?" His voice is rough, ruined, breath ragged as he pounds into you. "Wanted to be fucked like this? Made me wait all night—fuck—all fucking night, just to be a dripping, needy mess for me as soon as we got home."

You whimper, your pussy tightening around his thick cock, making him groan.

"Oh, you love that, don't you?"

His hand cracks against your ass. You jerk, moaning so prettily, your walls fluttering around him. He kneads your flushed, sensitive flesh, soothing it for a moment before—

Crack. Another slap.

And fuck, your cunt clamps down on him.

"Fuck, there you go," he growls, voice dark, thick with filthy approval. "Squeezing my dick so fucking tight—shit—you love this, huh? Being fucked nice and rough, just how you fucking need it."

You sob, overwhelmed, the pleasure so much, so good, stealing the air from your lungs.

"God," he groans, fucking into you even deeper, your slick, tight heat making his head spin, his control crumbling with every thrust. "This pussy's fucking perfect. Taking me so fucking well, baby."

And you? You're losing your mind. You barely know your own name right now. Because what the fuck? He's never fucked you like this before. Sure, Dick always fucks you good, always knows exactly how to work your body, but this? The filthy words, the rough grip on your hips, the way he spanks you without a second thought—

This is something new.

And through the fog of pleasure, through the way he's slamming into your pussy, his thick cock stretching you wide, fucking you so deep you swear he's in your fucking throat, you love it. You love every second of it.

The sting of his palm against your ass. The sting of his cock stuffing you so full, pushing against that perfect, sweet spot inside you over and over. The sting of being used, of being fucked just how you need it.

And him? Dick is barely holding on. Your pussy is squeezing him so fucking tight, like you're trying to pull his soul straight out of his fucking cock.

"Oh, fuck—" he grits his teeth, his hips slamming against your ass, the impact making you jerk against the wall, making you fucking whimper. "This tight little pussy is fucking unreal—"

And then he does it again. Another hard slap to your already tender ass. And you gasp, your walls clenching down so hard around him he nearly fucking chokes.

"Fucking shit," he groans, his fingers digging into your hips, leaving bruises on your soft skin as he pounds into you, lost in the wet, filthy sounds of his dick driving in and out of your dripping cunt. "So fucking tight... gripping me like crazy."

Your pussy's so soaked, so slippery, your wetness leaking all over his cock, down his balls, your thighs, making an absolute mess of both of you.

"Shit—" His head tips back, sweat dripping down his temple as he wrecks you. "Gonna cum for me, pretty girl? Hmm? Gonna make a fucking mess on my dick?"

And fuck, you are. "God, baby, I—"

Your voice shatters, your whole body shuddering as the orgasm slams into you.

Hard. Fast. All at once. It steals the air from your lungs, makes your vision go white, your toes curling, your nails digging into the wall as you sob.

Your pussy pulses around him, clenching and fluttering, so tight he can barely fucking move, his dick struggling against the suffocating squeeze of your convulsing walls.

Your slick gushes out in hot, messy waves, coating his cock, his balls, dripping down your thighs in sticky, glistening streams. Every aftershock makes you jerk, makes your body spasm, your walls gripping him in tight, desperate pulses, milking him for all he's worth. And he feels it—every ripple, every shudder, every desperate, squeezing tremor that makes his cock throb inside your spasming cunt.

But he doesn't stop. He won't stop.

"Fuck, baby—"

He groans, his voice so thick, so fucked out as he keeps going, fucking you right through your orgasm, his thick cock dragging against your spasming walls, his hands everywhere, grabbing, kneading, spanking.

And your slick? It's fucking everywhere. Dripping out of your swollen cunt, coating his cock, his balls, your trembling thighs, making a sloppy, wet mess between your legs. You barely have time to breathe before you feel it—

The slow, teasing glide of his fingers down your belly, slipping lower, brushing over your sweat-damp skin before reaching your swollen, aching clit.

"Baby, n-no—"

You whimper, your body shuddering as his fingertips press against the throbbing bud, rubbing tight, slow circles. The touch is too much—you can barely fucking breathe from the overstimulation, from how hard he's fucking you, how deep, every thrust knocking the air out of your lungs.

And he laughs. A deep, dark chuckle, rumbling straight from his chest, so fucking smug as he rubs your clit harder.

"No?" he taunts, his voice thick with mockery—with lust—as he watches your legs tremble, watches your body jerk with every flick of his fingers, watches the way your swollen pussy clamps down around his cock, desperate for relief, even as you try to deny it.

"But you've been such a brat, pretty girl," he hums, his thrusts slowing—deep, shallow strokes that have you seeing fucking stars, the tip of his cock dragging against the soft, hot walls of your pussy, hitting your womb with every heavy grind of his hips. "You were so desperate, weren't you?"

He tuts, rubbing faster, making your whole body jolt, your knees buckling as your arms nearly give out, leaving you gasping, moaning, tears of pleasure blurring your vision.

"Now you're gonna take everything I give you."

His free hand slides up your body, rough and greedy, grabbing at your hips, your waist, your ribs—before reaching your tits.

And then he pulls your dress down. The fabric pools around your waist, leaving your soft, aching breasts bare, and they bounce with every sharp, hungry thrust of his hips.

"Fuck—"

His voice wavers, his movements stuttering for a fraction of a second as he watches, completely fucking mesmerized.

Your tits are perfect. Soft and sensitive, your nipples tight and pebbled, practically begging for his touch.

And he gives it to you. He palms one of them roughly, squeezing, kneading, his thumb teasing over your nipple before rolling it between his fingers, tugging just right, making your back arch, making your cunt pulse around him.

"Dick," you sob, pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, your body trembling as your orgasm builds again, sharp and intense, growing so fucking fast you can barely think.

He can feel it. The way your pussy flutters around him, the way your thighs shake, the way your moans turn into desperate, high-pitched whimpers. And he doesn't slow down. If anything, he fucks you harder.

"That's it, baby," His voice is thick, dripping with lust, with filth, his fingers still working your swollen clit, his hips snapping forward in that relentless, brutal pace. "Cum for me. Fuck, I need to feel you cum again—"

And then you break. You moan, your body convulsing, your back arching as pleasure rips through you. Your pussy clamps down hard, squeezing his cock so tight, so wet and hot, milking him in the most obscene way. And he groans, long and deep, his fingers digging into your skin as he keeps fucking you through it, drawing it out, making your body tremble with overstimulation.

"God, fuck," he grits, feeling your slick gush out, making a mess, dripping all over his cock, his balls, his thighs. "So fucking tight—"

And he doesn't stop. Not until you shudder under him, not until your body collapses, boneless and spent. He's so fucking close.

He can feel it. That sharp, unbearable heat coiling at the base of his spine, the tight pull in his gut, his whole body tense as he pounds into you, hard and deep, his dick soaked in your wetness. Every thrust pushes his cock against that perfect, spongy spot inside you that has you gasping, whimpering, legs shaking beneath him.

And you—God, you're so fucking tight, so wet, so warm, sucking him in so deep, so desperate.

"F-Fuck," he chokes out, voice ragged, his hand gripping your hip so fucking tight, like he's holding on for dear life.

And you clench around him. Tight, wet, perfect, and he breaks. His whole body jerks as he thrusts deep, hips snapping forward one last time, burying himself to the fucking hilt as his cock pulses inside you.

Thick, hot spurts of cum flood your cunt, filling you up until you feel it, sticky and wet, deep in your belly, so much it seeps out around his cock, leaking down your thighs, mixing with the mess of slick already dripping from your swollen, used pussy.

And it undoes you. The second you feel it—his hot cum spilling inside you, claiming you—you shatter. You sob, your whole body tensing, back arching as pleasure rips through you, as your pussy clenches around him, milking his cock for everything, sucking every last drop from his pulsing length.

Your walls squeeze him, gripping him, and he groans, long and low, his hips jerking, his cock throbbing, spitting more cum inside you, stuffing you so full it drips from your stretched little hole, trailing down in thick, filthy strings.

It's so fucking intense, so overwhelming, your orgasm slamming into you like a tidal wave, leaving you breathless, helpless, your pussy spasming around his cock so fucking tight he chokes on a moan. His hands grip your waist so hard it burns as he forces himself deeper, grinding his dick into your wrecked, soaked cunt, pushing his cum deeper, making a fucking mess of you.

And you cream around him, your slick gushing, your cunt squeezing his still-hard length, milking him, coating him in your release, dripping down your inner thighs in slick, milky streaks.

You're so full, so fucking wrecked, your pussy fluttering, overstimulated, still clamping down around his spent cock like you don't want him to leave, like you want to keep every drop of his hot, thick load inside you.

And he fucks it into you. Even as he trembles, even as his body shudders with every aftershock, he keeps moving. Slow, deep, languid strokes, fucking his cum deeper, feeling the way your walls flutter around him, milking every last drop, until it's too much, until you're both shaking, until neither of you can breathe.

And then he stills. His dick still buried inside you, his body pressed against your back, both of you panting, trembling, moaning soft and breathless into the sweat-damp air.

And then he hears it. A sniffle. And just like that, he's back. The haze of lust fades, replaced with something softer, something tender, something so undeniably him.

"My love..."

His voice is soft, low, thick with concern as his arms slip around your waist, pulling you close, his nose nuzzling into your soft hair. "Are you okay?"

And you—God, you can't even speak. Because this was everything. The best fuck of your life. Because it's him. Your boyfriend. The love of your fucking life.

Because he's so perfect, so good to you, even after ruining you like this. And so you just nod, still breathless, your whole body limp against him, sinking into his warmth, his touch, into him.

And he... he can't believe he did that. Because this—this is new. He's always been gentle with you, careful, attentive. Because he adores you, because he wants you to feel safe, to feel cherished, to know that he loves you more than anything. But tonight, fuck, tonight you did something to him. And he liked it. Maybe a little too much.

His lips press against your shoulder—soft, lingering—like an apology, like a silent I've got you.

And he does.

Even as you tremble in his arms, even as you gasp, still shuddering, still fucked-out and overwhelmed, he holds you—one arm wrapped tight around you, his other hand slipping down, splaying wide over your soft, aching belly, grounding you in the aftermath of everything.

His touch is everything—soft, gentle, his.

Your breathing is still shaky, uneven, little exhales of pleasure spilling from your lips as you slowly come down—drunk, euphoric, and so fucking warm, floating somewhere between exhaustion and pure, blissful satisfaction.

And then—

"Baby..." Your voice is so soft, so breathless, and then you gasp out, "That was... God, I can't even explain it."

And his breath hitches. Because fuck—

He suddenly feels bad. Like maybe he pushed you too far, like maybe he should've held back, like maybe he should've stopped, should've made sure you were okay before ruining you like that.

Because you've never told him you like stuff like this. And truth be told, he didn't think he had it in him, either.

But God.

The way you melt into his touch, the way you sigh, blissed-out and so fucking content, the way you're smiling, lips parted, breath shallow and slow. Maybe he didn't push you too far. Maybe he gave you exactly what you wanted.

So he swallows, presses his lips to the top of your head, and then he pulls out—slow. Careful.

But still, you whimper, and he winces. "I'm sorry, baby, I—"

But before he can finish, you're turning in his arms, slow and lazy, and fuck—

Your face is flushed, your makeup smudged, lips swollen from how many times you bit them trying to hold back your moans. And still, you are the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

And then... you giggle. And it wrecks him.

Because you're fucking glowing, drunk and giddy, your arms looping around his neck, your body pressing flush against his, and he can feel it. Your warmth. Your breath. Your happiness. Your love.

And he's looking at you like you just rewrote the stars, like you just changed something in him, like he doesn't know what the fuck to do with himself anymore.

And then you murmur, "I mean it. That was... so fucking good, baby."

And he just laughs, pressing his lips to your forehead, wrapping his arms tight around you, pulling you in, holding you close like he'll never let you go.

"You're impossible, pretty girl."

And you pout, all soft and tired and adorable, and fuck—he needs to kiss you, but before he can, you whisper, "Maybe... but you still love me, don't you?"

And he doesn't even hesitate.

"More than anything."

[jincapableoflove]

The Grumpy Girlfriend Protection Program | Moodboard

Pairing: Jungkook x (f.) Reader

Genre: sunshine bf x grumpy gf, golden retriever! jungkook, black cat! reader

Summary: Jeon Jungkook has always been the sunshine in every room; warm, kind, and completely oblivious to danger. Luckily, you, his grumpy, overprotective girlfriend have made it your personal mission to keep him safe. But when the threat shifts to you instead, Jungkook proves that even sunshine can scorch—and for you, he’d burn.

Word count: tbd (15k written so far)

coming soon...

taglist for tggpp: @iamstilljk @juikmon @smoljimjim @11thenightwemet11 @namelesskeid @theboyzhelicopter @cristinamajadera @talyaaas-blog @nbjch05 @subgoogie @jjkookiee346 @gogogith @lectrice-ios @ziyaexe @mellyyyyyyx @dna-black-and-blue @sparklycheesecakenacho @pelicanpizza @whoa-jo @dillydandydaisy @somehowukook @tititania @purplelanterns @koodollylvr @honeeybunneey @jenniebyrubies @vantelover1306 @mar-lo-pap @whoreformarlenemckinnon @xumyboo @bumblebee041019 @gaebestie @coquitting @ecomidnight @fancypeacepersona @lizzy23-02 @rpwprpwprpwprw @starlight-1010 @piggaloaf @inkdrinkershadowsinger @satisfied18 @pinkpunkdynamite @reallygenerouskoala @amarawayne @minniejim @ennvfv @senaqsstuff @raraluvz @hoseokteardrop @shellyyy177 @lowercaseurself @futuristicenemychaos @missthang600 @aeriblu @morkleeespizzacake @ahgasegotarmy116 @g1rlonth3intern3t @diamonddia-mond @dontcallmeelle @brokebitch-101 @namj00n-ing @elegantdevill1 @somehowukook @prxdajeon @scentedsope @kazuahhh @handsomejin25 @ukndtwme @larajs97 @nikidream24 @taekritimin123 @achurroandbananamilk @annenakamura @solephile @honeymeraki @btsiguess-kpop @magicalnachocreator @viacb97 @likeshatteredrainbowglass

(taglist closed!)

[watermelonshine]

may I request vi x reader who has a bunch of stuffed animals pls?

omg I have a hoarding problem especially when it comes to stuffed animals so I'll project

cw : slight mention of reader's shitty parents, reader hoards.

girlfriend!vi who was invited to your house, making you very nervous.

girlfriend!vi who upon entering your apartment immediately felt a comforting vibe.

girlfriend!vi who noticed your walls filled with photos of you and your friends and family, even people who you didn't talk to anymore. some pinned, some framed.

"damn babe, you sure your walls got space for us?"

"I already put us up."

girlfriend!vi who noticed the booth pictures you both took on your first day pinned to the wall, next to the pictures of your family and your family dog.

girlfriend!vi who noticed a shelf of used journals next to the couch and went to check it out while you went to bring water from the kitchen.

girlfriend!vi who cracked a smile when she realised each journal was completely dedicated to each person in your life, and she happened to open the one that was dedicated to her.

girlfriend!vi who opened a page with a dried flower taped in it, written on the side was, "vi picked this flower from my hair today, I think I love her."

girlfriend!vi who was dragged away by you so that you can hang out in your bedroom and definitely not because you didn't want her to read more cringe stuff you wrote about her.

girlfriend!vi who couldn't help but gawk at the amount of stuffed toys you owned, all spread around your room. some on the table, some on the shelves, some on the sitting on the floor, some sitting on your bed.

"...are you judging me ?"

"no babe I'm just curious."

girlfriend!vi who sat down on your bed while you explained what each stuffed toy meant to you.

like the blue rabbit was given by your father when you were 6 and it was the first stuffed toy you ever got, the giraffe one was given to you as an apology by your mother after she hit you for the first time, another one being the purple dog your high school friends got you by pooling up money when your dog passed away, there was one huge penguin doll you got as an apology from your parents after you screamed at them for fighting all the time, there was this narwhal one you were gifted by your mother on your birthday as an apology for missing your graduation, and there was one small pink bear stuffed toy you from those vending machines and it was the first time you ever got anything from those perpetually jammed machines.

girlfriend!vi who realised each and everything in your apartment held value which others may think is unreasonable to keep, but the emotions and memories attached to them is something you and only you knew.

girlfriend!vi who also opened up to you about her little stuffed bunny toy she passed onto her sister, the one she held on tight to when she was informed about her parents' demise.

girlfriend!vi who drew circles in your thighs as she spoke how she understood why it was difficult for you to part ways with the things you owned.

girlfriend!vi who immediately wrapped her arms around you as you broke down, telling her about how scared you were that she was gonna think that you were some creep or judge you for being a dumb girl with attachment issues-

girlfriend!vi who cut you off with a kiss and wiped away your tears.

"I'll never judge you babe, I love you."

note : oop did I project too hard (⁠˘⁠･⁠_⁠･⁠˘⁠)

[callalillywrites]

Allergies and Cuddles

Allergies have been kicking my butt lately. Height of that came a couple days ago when high winds really pushed around a lot of dirt and pollen. All I wanted was a nap and someone to cuddle with. Hence, the creation of this story.

Who better to cuddle up with than two super soldiers?

Relationship: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes (Stucky) x Female Reader

Word Count: ~1800

Summary: Steve comes home to find you curled up on the couch with Bucky, napping to reduce the affects of your allergies. Fluff and more cuddles ensue in this slice of life piece.

Warnings: Slightly worried Steve and Bucky; (over)protectiveness activated; comforting each other; teasing; established relationship; lots of fluff; Steve POV

A/N: As stated above, this story was wholly inspired and written quite quickly, so any and all mistakes are my own. Just wanted a bit of fluff to make myself feel better and this is what came out of that.

Stucky Masterlist | Main Masterlist

I do not give permission to have my works copied, translated, reposted, or fed into an AI machine.

****

A too-quiet apartment greeted Steve when he came home that evening.

When he would've called out, his enhanced hearing picked up the faintest of hums. Following it, he soon found himself upon a scene that tugged at his heartstrings.

Bucky lounged across their over-sized sofa with you laying across him, completely dead to the world. If he squinted, Steve could almost imagine the thinnest, cutest line of drool seeping from your slightly parted lips onto Bucky's shirt. One of your arms rested somewhere between yours and Bucky's body, but the one Steve could see had sneaked its way under Bucky's shirt, caging Bucky under you. No doubt you sought the warmth of his skin, something you often did when you weren't feeling well.

While you slept, Bucky had one arm draped protectively across you while the other held one of his favorite books. The book had pages threatening to leave what little binding kept them in the right place, but that never stopped Bucky from picking it up again and again. From the looks of this one, Steve would be searching out a replacement soon enough. Bucky's gaze would drift over to you every other line or so, just because he could.

The TV played some show that you'd gotten into recently, replaying one of the older episodes. The volume turned down low so it wouldn't bother your rest. Knowing you as he did, you probably had it up while you fought to stay awake, leaving Bucky to lower it once you were completely out.

Leaning against the wide opening from the hallway, Steve crossed his arms and just enjoyed the scene before him. If he had his sketchpad, he might've taken up residence in the nearby chair and sketched until he had both of you permanently down on paper, a memory no one could take from any of you. But, he didn't so he settled for mentally drawing this moment to revisit later.

"You gonna keep staring at us, or you actually gonna say something, punk?"

"Admiring the view." Steve pushed off the wall and crept closer, taking care not to disturb your slumber. "How long has she been out?"

Bucky closed his book though his attention focused solely on you for a moment. The arm holding you drew soothing patterns on your back as he mumbled, "About an hour or so. Found her trying to fall asleep at her desk in the office."

Sinking into a squat, Steve dropped a quick kiss on Bucky's forehead before turning his full attention on you. He could make out your red, slightly swollen nose as well as the puffiness that lingered around your eyes. The softest snores left you, telling him that your allergies had truly gotten the best of you.

"Her meds not working?"

Bucky shook his head. "I don't think she's been keeping up with them like she should. Her bottle's almost full, and it's almost a month old."

Steve's brows drew together. It wasn't a secret that your allergies could get bad, and you were usually on top of taking your medication to keep them from overwhelming you. Plus, you knew they worried about you whenever you weren't feeling up to your usual self.

"She took some before I made her lay down with me." Bucky's voice broke through Steve's thoughts. His own worry peeked through despite usually being the more level-headed of the group when it came to these matters. "Maybe it wouldn't be the worst to take her in and see if there's something a bit stronger out there. Nothing over the counter seems to help her anymore."

"I'll call Dr. Cho." Steve pushed to his feet, pulling his phone from his back pocket. "If she can't help, then she'll know who we can talk to."

"Tell her our girl didn't sleep well last night either. She tossed and turned pretty good. I'm that didn't help."

"Or you two can stop worrying and just let me sleep for a little longer," you groused, having been roused by your bladder to hear your boyfriends fretting. "It's the wind. Once it stops blasting away and blowing pollen around, I'll be back to normal."

"Sweetheart," Steve started.

Having had this conversation before, you lifted your head until your gaze could meet his. A steely determination stole over your features that had Steve stopping in his tracks.

"I'm going to be fine," your tone softened as you moved to capture Bucky's eye as well, "I promise."

"One week," Steve vowed.

You nodded, knowing he meant it. One week to get better, or they'd be taking you to the doctor. The last thing they wanted was to lose you when they'd worked so hard to rebuild their lives after having their old ones ripped away from them.

"Now, that's settled," you pushed up from your position against Bucky, "I'm going to the bathroom. Then, we're going to discuss dinner. I'm too gross to be touching food, so I'll let you two roshambo to see who's got kitchen duty tonight."

The bedroom door had barely closed behind you when Bucky turned towards Steve. His expression morphed into one of the softest looks he kept solely for his two loves. "Don't worry about it. It's my turn to cook anyway. Besides, you look like you could use some of her cuddles."

"You sure?" Steve couldn't help asking.

While the day hadn't been bad per se, it hadn't been a great one, either. So many reports had been perched on his desk first thing. All needed his immediate approval before missions could move forward. Sure, that was typically either Fury's or Hill's job, but they'd both gone on some mysterious vacation, leaving him to handle it.

Then, there'd been a small crisis or two where Tony's latest invention had gone a bit awry. It wouldn't have been so bad if it hadn't set Banner off, transforming him into the Hulk. A quick call in to Nat had helped, but it'd taken some time for Hulk to fully retreat and allow Banner the chance to return.

To say Steve was a bit wired would be an understatement.

Bucky tapped his shoulder, pulling Steve from his thoughts. "Yeah, I'm sure. Let her help you."

As if summoned, you stepped out of the bedroom. Your appearance looked a bit more put-together than it had when Steve first arrived home. Hair dampened and your face scrubbed. While your eyes still retained a bit of puffiness, they remained bright and alert as you closed the distance between you and Steve.

A cheeky smile flitted over your features as you asked, "Bucky lose, or did you pull rank on him?"

"He offered actually," Steve huffed, shooting you his best glare.

It had little effect as usual, but that didn't mean he didn't try now and then.

Your fingers slid between his and gently tugged him closer.

He went willingly.

His free hand dropped to your waist when you rose on tiptoe and pressed a kiss to his jaw. Your gaze roved over his features. A soft frown formed as you murmured, "You're looking a little piqued yourself. Off day?"

"Something like that, sweetheart."

A soft noise escaped you. Your hand tightened around his as you tugged him toward the couch.

"Koala or weighted blanket?"

Steve's entire being sagged at the way you so easily read him. He honestly had no clue what he'd do without you and Bucky in his life, and he really didn't want to find out.

Bending slightly, he pulled his hand out of yours so he could grip you around the waist and lift. Your arms and legs wrapped around him without hesitation, allowing him to do what he wanted most. He dropped onto the couch, his legs stretching out on the floor. His arms snuck around you to hold you as close as he possibly get you while his head sank to your shoulder.

Your fingers inched their way up his neck until they scraped against and through his hair. Soft kisses pressed into his shoulder and neck where you could reach within the cocoon of his arms.

"I'm sorry," you whispered at some point, breaking the silence that had settled between you. "I'll do better about taking my allergy meds. It's just been a crazy week, and I hadn't meant to forget. It honestly didn't hit me that I had until the winds kicked up a few days ago. Please, don't worry about me."

Steve tightened his hold. "Always gonna worry about you, sweetheart. That's what you do when it's the people you love."

"Okay, that's a fair point, but I'm still going to do better. I don't want you to worry unnecessarily." You pulled back enough to meet his gaze. In the same cheeky tone as earlier, you added, "How's that?"

"Better," he murmured, shaking his head and huffing with pure affection.

You must've been satisfied because your cheekiness turned impish. "You are quite tense, Captain, and Bucky missed his workout because of me. It seems only fair after dinner that we have a special training session. Get all these kinks worked out and make sure you both stay in top physical form. What do you say?"

As if to further your suggestion, you wiggled in his lap until Steve moved his hands to grip your hips. A groan slipped past his lips when you managed to wriggle once more before he could fully keep you still.

Stealing a quick but searing kiss, Steve's grin grew. "I'd say I hope you've kept up your stretching routine, sweetheart, because it's going to be a long training session tonight. May even last until the early morning before I'm fully relaxed."

"Oh, my poor Captain," you crooned sweetly, pressing a kiss to his lips. "We won't stop until you and Bucky are fully satisfied."

"And what about you, sweetheart?"

"Oh, don't worry about me," you pressed another quick kiss to his lips before trailing down his jaw towards his neck, "I know I'll be properly taken care of in more ways than one tonight. My two super soldiers never let me down."

"Damn right, we don't," Bucky said from the doorway. "Dinner's ready. Better eat up fast because that special training starts in an hour."

Steve let you scoot out of his lap after claiming one last kiss, patting your butt as you moved towards the kitchen.

You tossed Bucky a salute, saying, "Yes, sir, Sergeant."

Steve's heart had never felt so full as he watched Bucky sweep you up, your giggles spilling out as you traded kisses with him before he sat you like the precious being you were in your spot. All three places had been set while he'd held you with the small candelabra his mother had left him burned brightly with the new candles you'd chosen a few weeks ago.

Home.

He was home.

[aventurineswife]

HELLO !

Aventurine x s/o!Reader who grew up not celebrating their birthday bc their parents can't be bothered and eventually thought that celebrating it isn't really much of a big deal and that it's just 'another day'?

“Celebrate Good Times, Come On!”

Summary: Aventurine surprises you with an extravagant celebration for your birthday—a day you’ve always considered "just another day" due to your parents' indifference. As the day unfolds, Aventurine’s charm and deep care are revealed through his thoughtful gestures, making you realize the value of celebrating yourself, and of the connection you share with him.

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Established Relationship, Fluff, Birthday Celebration, Slow Burn, Emotional Vulnerability.

A/N: Happy birthday to whoever's birthday it is today!!

The dimly lit room of your shared apartment glowed with the warm hues of sunset spilling through the expansive window. Aventurine, perched on the edge of the green velvet armchair, was flipping a sleek gold poker chip between his fingers, his eyes glinting mischievously as he observed you. You were sprawled on the couch, engrossed in your book, blissfully unaware of the storm brewing in his calculating mind.

“Darling,” he began, his voice dripping with honeyed charm. “What plans do we have for tomorrow?”

You glanced up, raising an eyebrow at his sudden curiosity. “Nothing special, why?”

His smile widened, a telltale sign that he was up to something. “Oh, I beg to differ. It’s a very special day.”

“Is it?” you asked, a slight frown creasing your brow. “Pretty sure it’s just another Thursday.”

Aventurine’s eyes narrowed, his chip spinning faster between his fingers. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Another Thursday?” His tone was light, but you caught the undertone of disbelief. “You mean to tell me that you—you—don’t think your birthday is worth celebrating?”

You shrugged, returning your gaze to your book. “What’s there to celebrate? It’s not a big deal. It’s just another day.”

“Just another day,” he echoed, his voice quieter now, tinged with something you couldn’t quite place.

He rose from the chair, the soft rustle of his overcoat catching your attention. His shadow fell across you as he stood by the couch, gazing down at you with a peculiar mixture of amusement and something deeper—concern, perhaps?

“Tell me,” he said, lowering himself to sit on the edge of the coffee table, facing you directly. “Why do you think that? Surely there was a time when you looked forward to it?”

You hesitated, suddenly uncomfortable under his piercing gaze. “I guess my parents never made a big deal out of it,” you admitted, your voice quieter than you intended. “Eventually, I just… stopped caring.”

Aventurine tilted his head, his expression softening. “Ah, I see.” He reached out, gently plucking the book from your hands and setting it aside. “Well, my dear, let me make one thing crystal clear.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a near-whisper. “The day you graced this world with your presence is not just another day.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but he silenced you with a finger pressed lightly to your lips.

“Tomorrow, we’re celebrating,” he declared, his tone leaving no room for argument. “And before you object, let me remind you that I never lose a gamble.”

The next day, you woke to the scent of something sweet wafting from the kitchen. Groggily, you made your way to investigate, only to find Aventurine standing by the stove, humming a jaunty tune. He was wearing his usual extravagant ensemble—fur-trimmed coat draped over his shoulders, gold accents catching the light—but it was the colorful spread on the table that caught your attention.

A cake, topped with fresh berries (or whatever you like) and candles, sat at the center, surrounded by an array of your favorite dishes. Streamers hung haphazardly from the ceiling, and a glittering banner that read “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” stretched across the wall.

“Good morning, birthday star!” Aventurine greeted, turning with a flourish. He held a spatula in one hand and a of glass of what looked like champagne in the other.

“Aventurine…” you began, unsure whether to laugh or cry.

“Surprised?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice. He gestured to the table with a dramatic bow. “A feast for the most exquisite person I know. And don’t even think about arguing—I’ll win.”

You couldn’t help but smile, warmth blossoming in your chest. “You didn’t have to do all this.”

“Didn’t I?” He set the glass down and approached you, his eyes softening as he took your hands in his. “For someone as extraordinary as you, a day like this must be celebrated.”

For once, you didn’t argue. Instead, you let him guide you to the table, laughing as he pulled out your chair with an exaggerated flourish.

“Now,” he said, lighting the candles on the cake with a flick of his gold lighter, “make a wish.”

You looked at him, the warmth in his gaze, the effort he’d put into making you feel special, and for the first time in years, you felt the weight of what it meant to be truly cherished.

Closing your eyes, you made your wish—not for anything material, but for the man who had turned “just another day” into something unforgettable.

When you blew out the candles, Aventurine clapped, his grin as wide as ever. “Perfect. Now, let’s eat—and after that, I’ve got a surprise planned.”

“A surprise?” you asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course,” he replied, a sly glint in his eye. “After all, the day’s just getting started, darling.”

[imaginejamesandsirius]

Can you write a story where James and Sirius get married while still in school and Lily keeps trying to hit on James (she doesn’t know they’re married but people keep telling her it’s a bad idea because James and Sirius are inseparable, maybe lily is a transfer student or something and that’s why she doesn’t know) who politely refuses until he gets fed up and tell her he’s already married.

((A/N: I went with transfer student Lily, assume Hogwarts is the public version of school and she was going private or smthn))

James is a flirt. That's what everyone tells her. James is a flirt, Lily. You can't take him seriously when he flirts with you, he flirts with everybody.

Lily listens to them-- she is new to Hogwarts, after all, and she doesn't know everything about it just because she read the book on it-- but she thinks there's more to it than that.

Maybe everyone knowing James for so long has led them to believe he's not serious about her. If the stories are to be believed, he's been like this since he was eleven, and no one takes an eleven year old seriously when they're charming.

Lily's new to the school, she can offer a new perspective. And her perspective is that James means it when he flirts with her.

"I've heard asking people to Hogsmeade is the done thing," Lily says, not to anyone in particular, but just the general air in the dormitory.

"The done thing for dates, yeah," someone-- Mary, that's her name-- says.

"Brilliant."

"You're not thinking of asking Potter, are you?" Dorcas chimes in.

"I was going to, yeah."

The girls groan in unison. Lily glances at them. Did they plan this? It feels planned. Or maybe this is how in-tune people can get when they've lived together through the school year for six years straight.

"I know you all think it's a bad idea-" god knows they've all told her at length "-but I'm going to go ahead and ask. The worst thing he can do is say no." That's the worst case, and it's not bad. And she doesn't think it's likely, so.

"It's your funeral, girl."

"I think you're crazy for asking out anyone. Isn't that the boy's job?"

Lily rolls her eyes. They're so dramatic. She's asked out someone before and she didn't die from it.

*

James blinks at her owlishly behind his glasses.

For the first time, she doubts her decision. It's not (just) that he isn't answering right away, it's that he's looking at her like that. He's looking at her like this is a complete surprise, one that's taken him off guard so completely that he's in a rare moment of silence.

"Erm."

"I take it that's a no," Lily says, trying to be casual about it. Heat rises in her cheeks in embarrassment and she curses her fair skin for how visible it must be. Damn it, she was so sure that James was into her.

"Yeah, sorry," he says dazedly.

It's impossible to take James Potter off-guard, this much, she knows. She has to take advantage of this moment while she can, so she's going to see if she can find out the why. Why is he saying no and-- more importantly-- why was everyone so certain this would be the outcome? "Mind if I ask why not?"

"Huh?"

"You were flirting," she says, not accusing, just pointing it out. "I thought you were interested."

"I'm- taken, that's all."

"Taken?" She hasn't seen any girl hanging around him, just those three mates of his. Is he lying to try and make her feel better? She's not a fan of that. "There's no way you're taken."

He blinks at her again, still looking taken off-guard. "I'm married, actually."

"Married? No way in hell you're married. We're still in school, and you spend all your time with Black-"

"He's a Potter now," James interrupts quickly, almost angry. Then he goes pale. "Erm, I don't- I mean-" He's starting to panic, so she cuts in, guilt gathering in a lump in her stomach for pushing; she never meant to make him feel bad, she just wanted answers. If she'd known, she wouldn't have pushed. But, well, if she'd known, then... It was an imperfect situation, and she was uncomfortable for her part in it.

"Relax, I won't tell anyone," she assures him.

"If anyone found out-"

"They won't," Lily says simply. For her, it is that simple. She's friends with a few girls here, but she wouldn't describe them as close. She's certainly not close enough with anyone to tell them a secret like this. And they're only really 'friends' in the sense that they get along alright and they don't tell her to get lost.

He looks at her, assessing her sincerity. There's that bit of panic clinging to the edges of him, but there's also a forced calm. She understands, in that moment, why some people are wary-- scared, almost-- of him. He's... intense. In control. He breathes out, and that hint of danger vanishes with it. "Good. We were going to tell people, but- well, it'll just be easier if we wait until we're out of Hogwarts."

"I understand completely. But maybe stop flirting so much with other people? I thought you were interested, it's the only reason I pushed."

James's mouth twists, almost a smirk but lacking the humor. "Yeah, Sirius warned me that might be the case."

"How long have you two been...?" Lily trails off.

The look James gives her then is purely incredulous. "We're not friends, Evans. Why would I talk to you about it?"

Gryffindor, house of the brave, she reminds herself. She can take a chance here. "I don't really have friends." It hurts to admit-- and she can feel her cheeks heat-- but it's the truth. "I figure why not try with you?"

"You just asked me on a date," he points out.

"Yeah, because you're cute and you flirted with me, it's not like I'm in love with you. Come on," she whines, unashamed to be whining because she wants something good to come from this embarrassing confrontation instead of walking away empty-handed. "What do you have to lose by being friends with me?"

"I already have friends," he says, bewildered. 

"Yeah, so what's one more?"

He blinks at her, she's afraid he's going to give a firm no, and then he cracks a grin and starts laughing. "Sure, Evans. We can be friends. But if Sirius doesn't like you, you're gone."

"He'll like me," she says, willing it to be true.

*

"You'll never guess what just happened," James says the second him and Sirius are alone. Sirius is lounging on James's bed, and James is standing, walking back and forth across the room for something to do while they talk.

"Hm?"

"First, promise you won't get mad. The situation's handled."

Sirius raises an eyebrow at him. "Okay?"

"Evans knows about us."

"Evan Rosier?" he says, sitting up straight. "That sounds like a cause for panic, what the hell were you thinking-"

"No, not Evan, Evans, Lily Evans, Gryffindor."

"Oh." He lays back down. "She won't tell?"

"She won't tell," James promises. He walks over and lays down next to him, fingers tapping Sirius's chest with nervous energy. "She asked me out, and when she asked why, I sort of told her we were married."

"Uh-huh," Sirius says, in that way that means he knows there's more to it.

"Anyway, she asked if we could be friends, and I said sure, but only if you liked her too. So, thoughts on Evans?"

"She's alright," he shrugs. "Not sure I like her knowing we're married, though. How'd that happen, anyways? It's not like you'd say it flat out."

James snickers. "Hello, I'm James, this is my husband, Sirius. What's your name?" He pecks a kiss to Sirius's cheek after he says 'husband'; it makes Sirius laugh. "Nah, she called you Black, and I corrected her without thinking. It was a stupid mistake."

Stupid, but sweet. It makes Sirius's heart grow, just hearing it. The change of his last name is official, but that doesn't mean they told anyone but the Potter's about it-- not even the professors know, since when they started this school year, his name was still Black. The NEWT's will get his name right, and that's all that matters right now. Plus... it feels good. He likes that someone else knows. It's dangerous, and if Lily talks, they're screwed for the rest of the school year, but he likes it. He's wanted to be Mr. Potter since practically the moment he met James. Keeping it a secret is necessary, but that doesn't mean he likes it. He wants to shout it at people as they pass by. He wants everyone to look at him and know what family he belongs to, but he wants that to happen in the future. Lily knowing, right now, is scary. But she says she'll keep it a secret, and all he can do is hope that she's telling the truth.

"Sure," Sirius says, "our new friend Lily. Why not?"

[hoomandoescosplay]

Rewind | Kento Nanami x Reader

OC Introduction- Aria Ieiri

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

[elronds-library]

how almost unbreakable

by queerofthedagger (@queerofthedagger)

It is not, Maedhros thinks, that Fingon is no longer angry. It is just that Fingon has never let anything as clean-cut as betrayal stop him from loving Maedhros in despite. After everything, they are just a little insane about each other.

Teen, No Archive Warnings

Words: 1,700

[anonymousewrites]

One Hell of a Love (Book 3 Pt. 2)

One Hell of a Love (Sebastian Michaelis x Demon! Reader) returns for the Emerald Witch Arc!

It will return April 10th and update Tuesdays and Thursdays.

It's time for Sebastian and (Y/N) to face witches, wolfmen, and curses. My, oh, my, they're going to have fun.

If you want to be tagged, please message me or reply to this post. it's going to be a lot of fun. This arc is already twelve chapters and it certainly isn't finished.

[pillowtalk6]

Omfg I was looking for this fic for so long 😭

You stay the night at Hobie's for the first time

Pairing: Hobie Brown x gn! Reader/ Spider-Punk x gn! Reader

Word count: 1.6k

Synopsis: You sleepover at Hobie's houseboat.

Tags: no use of Y/N, no specific physical description of the reader, established relationship, FLUFF, smut implied.

My Masterlist

Inspired by this post

*I don't consent to having my work translated/published on other platforms*

Obsessing over the pimple on your forehead, you try to pop it in between your forefinger and thumb. 

"Ughh" you grimace while staring at your reflection on Hobie's grimey mirror. 

You glimpse at your form, you're wearing one of Hobie's numerous band shirts, after you accidentally spilled mouthwash on your pajama shirt, you asked to borrow one. You're giddy that you smell like him.

He joked that you spilled mouthwash on it on purpose just to wear his shirt. 

"Stop it, you're gonna make it worse" Hobie says as he watches the disaster in front of him. He's lounging on his bed, arms tucked under his head. His dark jumper rides up a bit showing his toned stomach. His legs are properly tucked under the patchwork comforter.

"But it's bothering meee" you kick your legs like your throwing a tantrum.

"It doesn't even look that bad," Hobie pats the open space beside him "come to bed, lovey" 

"Says the man who has clear skin even though you wash your face with the same soap you use on your body" You turn to face him, ignoring his exposed skin. 

You've never seen him this relaxed before. He's a pretty laid back guy already, but this? His half-lidded eyes looking at you, paired with him in his comfortable non-spiky clothes– maybe you should come to bed.

"It's genetics, all natural, baby" 

"It's actually au naturel" you cross your arms on your chest, hiding your uneven breathing.

"No, it's not" 

"Yes, it is" you step forward.

"Nuh uh" 

"Yea uh" 

You stare at each other for a second.

"...C'mere" Hobie concedes defeat or else you would be at it all night. He takes his left arm from under him to reach towards you. 

"Fine" you head towards the bed, your sea legs swaying when a small wave hits the houseboat. You crawl under the covers. 

"Why are you so far, get over 'ere" he grabs the cover under you to drag you towards him, closing the already small distance. He's been waiting for this the entire day. He feels elated, he couldn't wait to finally cuddle with you, 

You hoped he didn't notice the small distance you made, but alas he's a perceptive one who doesn't like admitting he likes cuddles. Truth be told, you're actually nervous spending the night with him for the first time, you're not expecting for something to happen tonight, but if something did happen you're prepared for it, kind of, sorta, maybe?

Not to mention, the houseboat is a little intimidating, like what if you get sea sick and puke all over his carpet, well you're floating on a river, but nonetheless the rocking motion could still give you motion sickness. Or what if you kick him off the bed while asleep, or you sleep walk and you fall overboard. Or what if–

Hobie pinches your nose, keeping his fingers around it. "Oi, where did you go?" 

"Nuhn of yhor bhismes" you swat at his hand. 

"Your eyes went glossy for a second, thought I lost you" 

"I was actually thinking about your houseboat" 

"And here I thought you were thinking 'bout me" he holds his arm out behind you, unsure if you're okay with the action. 

Noticing his uncertainty, you swallow your shyness, you lean against his arm placing your head softly on his shoulder. Any doubt from Hobie is quickly washed away by your reaction. He pushes you closer to his warmth with the hand around your shoulder.

"What about the houseboat?" He stares at you while you play with a loose thread on his jumper.

"Like.. how'd you get it?" You absentmindedly twirl the thread around your fingers.

"Bought it off a bloke"

"That's it? No crazy or wacky story behind it?" You stare up at him suspiciously.

"Yes, there's no wacky story behind it" he mocks your word choice by copying your voice. "I needed a place, my friend's cousin's friend sold it at a cheap price. That's it, nothing madcap 'bout it" 

"Hmm, Do you even know how to drive, wait no sail? Is it called sailing when it doesn't have sails? Nevermind you get what I'm talking about, do you know how to do that?" You ramble, he finds it adorable.

"Yes, how do you think I brought it here from Amsterdam?" He's now curious whether it's sail or drive.

You gasp, sitting up "See! There IS a wacky story behind it" you poke his chest playfully.

Hobie grabs your finger to stop you "There IS nothing wacky about it. Well-" he remembers something, you perk up "we had to dodge the coast guard, but that's about it" 

"THE COAST GUARD?!" A huge grin blooming on your face.

"All right calm your beans" Hobie pushes your head back down lightly.

"How long did it take you to get back?" You snuggle closer to him.

"It would've just taken us 6-7 hours, but we had to hide from the coast guard so it took us about 10 hours" 

"Who were you with?" You fight a yawn.

"Why? You jealous?" Hobie shakes you lightly, he wants to talk to you more.

"Why would I be jealous of your friend's cousin's friend?" You rub one of his unruly eyebrows, shaping the strands back into place.

Hobie chuckles. He wants to stay like this with you, sleep be damned.

"What do you want for breakfast?" A yawn escaping you. You situate yourself on his chest.

"You gonna cook for me?" Hobie holds on to you tighter.

"Hmm, if you're nice to me in the morning, yeah" 

"What do you mean? I'm always nice to you" 

"You say that as you're staring at my pimple" you start to close your eyes. 

"Well, gorgeous, I'm not staring directly at it, I'm looking at you, you wear my shirt really well" 

"Well, handsome," you tease him back "anything looks better when I wear it" you feel sleep taking you.

"You're right," Hobie whispers against your hair "I like my eggs sunny side up by the way" 

"Hmm" a soft smile on your face.

Since you're wearing socks, with a sly smirk on Hobie's face, he slowly lifts up the leg hem of your pajama pants with his cold foot, once there's enough space, he quickly lays his ice cold foot on your leg. 

"Ack! What- Hobie!" You shoot up from your position. 

Hobie laughs loudly, you feel the houseboat shake lightly.

You playfully slap his chest.

"You!" Slap "Menace!" Slap

In one swift movement, he grabs your slapping hand, then he flips himself over you, his legs on your sides, caging you in.

You gasp at the weight above you, a wide smile blooming on your face.

"Hobie! You're too heavy!" Drowsiness is now completely gone.

He half kneels on your sides so he doesn't completely crush you.

"You're not allowed to sleep" Hobie leans slightly towards you, you can see his playful smirk illuminated by the moonlight.

"What do you mean I'm not allowed?! You invited me to a SLEEPOVER, you dork!" You gasp out as he's a few inches away from your face.

"Lemme guess you're the kind of person who falls asleep first in a sleepover? you're the dork here, sweets" he leans closer his lips ghosting over yours. 

You close your eyes in anticipation. Instead of a kiss, you feel Hobie blow raspberries on your jaw.

"Ack! HAHAHAHAHAHA" your legs kicking up trying to stop him from tickling you.

Hobie pulls back breathlessly.

"Oh you're ticklish? Got it" he smirks devilishly. "Wonder where else you're ticklish?" Hobie tilts his head.

"No! Don't you dare, Hobart!" Your eyes widen when he winds up his arms to tickle your stomach, despite the threat you can't help but grin.

"Oh using my government name now, huh" Hobie tickles your sides relentlessly, your laughs echoing throughout the space. 

"Okay! Okay! I'll stay up!" You say in between laughs.

He finally stops his attack, letting you breathe. 

"Yeah?" He takes his tickling stance again.

"Yes" you giggle "please stop or I might piss my pants" 

"Ooh kinky" he squeezes your cheeks together as you glare at him. 

"Can you please kiss me already so we can properly cuddle like you wanted" you say with your squished lips.

Hobie chuckles "saw right through me, huh" he leans down finally giving your most awaited kiss.

He eases up from squishing your cheeks so you could kiss him back properly, you hold on to the back of his neck, grounding you. 

Hobie pulls away, he stares at your wide eyes lovingly. You lift yourself up using his neck as leverage, quickly peppering his face with kisses, until he laughs with every peck.

You pull back, taking in his lovesick stricken face, his smile lopsided, eyes basically shaped like hearts. You're sure you mirror his expression. 

"I should invite you more often" he lays back down next to you, arm wrapped around your torso, half of his body staying on top of you, his legs splayed over yours. Hobie relaxes immediately.

You crane your neck "yeah you should. I really love your home, babe" you rub his arm soothingly.

"Really? You're not sea sick?" 

"I gotta be honest with you, I took a kwells tablet beforehand," you laugh.

"That's pretty smart" Hobie fights a yawn "you're really smart, love" he rubs the side of your neck.

"You're only saying that so I'll make you breakfast" you whisper, once you notice his eyes slowly close. 

"No, you're really smart, and lovely, and a bloody good cook" he parks his head on the crook of your neck with a sigh.

You chuckle softly, pulling the covers up to his chin, you lay your head just above his. 

You both fall asleep listening to each other's steady breathing with the houseboat rocking you both rhythmically.

A/n: I'm sorry that my last fic made y'all cry lmao, here's some fluff. As always thank you for reading! Likes and reblogs are appreciated ❤️

*picture above is from pinterest*

[reiyaus]

fem reader intended | pt 2

fratboy! gojo who's basically the typical fraternity student. passing all his classes yet still hosting a party any chance he gets.

fratboy! gojo who rejected the position of frat president, instead handing it off to his friend Nanami. claiming that if he were to lead something so big, he'd lose all the freedom he has.

fratboy! gojo who hooks up with some sororities every now and then, never taking their moments to heart. it gives him the reputation of a playboy but it didn't really matter to him.

fratboy! gojo who doesn't really remember the faces of every girl he spent the night with, often ignoring them in the halls whenever.

fratboy! gojo who hosts another part after finals to celebrate, inviting your friend over, who ends up bringing you as a plus one.

fratboy! gojo who doesn't notice you at first or bother to even look at you, a regular college student with no affiliations to any sorority/fraternity.

fratboy! gojo who runs into the sight of you leeching onto your (very drunk) friend, face buried onto your phone. but what really caught his attention was the sound coming from your device.

fratboy! gojo who sneakily tried peaking over your shoulder and gasped when his suspicions were confirmed: you were watching pokemon card unboxings. his favorite thing in the world, on top of partying.

fratboy! gojo who immediately struck up a conversation with you, not noticing how shocked you looked at the fact that someone this popular noticed you. not that you minded though.

fratboy! gojo who opened up his phone and started bombarding you with pictures of his own card collection. until you opened up about how you knew almost nothing about pokemon, and only watched out of boredom.

fratboy! gojo who takes this as an opportunity to start teaching you the basics of card trading, unconsciously inching closer to you everytime he hears your laughter.

fratboy! gojo who doesn't even realize that this is the first time he's gone without flirting with a girl- but instead bonding over shared interests.

fratboy! gojo who ends up asking for your number, only for the "sake of continuing your conversation". and he means it, he's actually excited about speaking to you more. not just to hook up.

fratboy! gojo who ends the night with a new friend, and blossoming love over pokemon cards. he might even start throwing less parties just to see you.

a/n: part two for this.... maybe?

update! im not adding anymore people into the tl

[superbat-love]

Batman may claim to have no powers, but Green Lantern knows better. He’s convinced that Batman’s cape is sentient.

Green Lantern has observed it on quiet nights in the Watchtower, when Batman thinks no one’s paying attention. He releases control over his cape, letting it unravel and float menacingly around him in different directions. It moves on its own, sweeping across nearby surfaces, carelessly knocking over items.

There’s one thing Green Lantern knows for sure—Batman’s cape has a sweet tooth. Every time Batman passes the candy bowl, it’s mysteriously emptied.

Even stranger, it seems to influence other capes. Once, while Batman was talking to Superman, their capes briefly touched, and Green Lantern saw Superman’s cape come to life—swirling and fluttering as though it had a mind of its own. Superman, unfazed, didn’t even react to the way their capes were flapping erratically around them. Green Lantern was relieved he didn’t have a cape.

He told the others about his theory, but they were skeptical at first. They eyed Batman’s cape with suspicion as he was distracted by a mission briefing with Wonder Woman. But even the Flash had to admit Green Lantern might be onto something when Batman’s cape swiped their feet out from under them, sending them both tumbling to the floor.

Martian Manhunter nodded sagely and agreed on its intelligence, having felt the minds of four little beings flitting around underneath Batman’s cape. Maybe one day they’d feel comfortable enough to run underneath his cape too.

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

Nightmare

KANG DAE-HO X READER

Summary- Dae-ho wakes up from a nightmare, with you being the only one by his side to calm him down.

Warnings- Mentions of PTSD, Nightmare, ECT.

A/N- Thank you, @tomgregtruther101 @errruvande @momoko-world @thethreeeyed-raven for encouraging me to write this!

Word Count- 1,223

A low mumble awoke you from your slumber. Typically you were a heavy sleeper, but when it came to Dae-ho it was different. You could have slept through a firework show. Though, the second your beloved got up to use the bathroom- you're up with him.

It bothered the sweet man at first, he hated waking you up. After some reassurance that you didn't mind, he warmed up to the idea. This night, however, was not like many.

It was not uncommon for Dae-Ho to wake up frazzled. He would get something warm to drink from the kitchen, and lay back down. (Praying he didn't wake you). On the much more common occurrence, you would awake with him. In turn, you'd be the one making him something warm to drink, possibly something sweet to snack on. Then the two of you would cuddle until he was fast asleep.

It was honestly comforting for you as well, being able to be his anchor was flattering. He trusted you like no other.

Dae-ho was not Frazzled though, and he didn't wake up to get a beverage.

He was thrashing, hard. His legs slightly kicking, arms jumping up every few seconds. With an impossibly scrunched face, he mumbled again.

"Dae?" You whispered out. The only response you received was a hit to the side, a stray flaring hand had got you.

The mumbling quickly turned louder, now sounding like a cry or groan. It worried you beyond recognition.

"Dae-ho." You pressed a gentle hand to his shoulder. His body jerked away from it. Very uncharacteristic.

A disfigured 'no' left his lips, a struggled sob escaped. He had managed to kick the comforter off of himself, and the bed.

You were now sat on your knees, looming over him. "Dae-ho!" You firmly grabbed both of his shoulders, shaking him.

A loud gasp erupted from both of you as his eyes shot open, you had no time to make a comment. His legs pushed and kicked, separating himself from you. At that singular moment, in his fear struck mind, he didn't seem to recognize you.

He had already found himself against the headboard of the bed, his hands pressing tight against his ears. You had barely blinked in all his movement.

With gaping eyes, a pounding chest, and heavy breathing he looked at you. Almost as if you were the one who hurt him.

"It just me, Dae-ho, its just me..." You spoke as soft and low as you could. You didn't approach any closer, but put your hands up to appear less intimidating.

His eyes just darted across the room in response, body curling further. His lip quivered, face and body drenched in sweat.

"You're okay, you're safe. Dae, you're safe. It's just me... It was just a nightmare, everything is okay..."

He swallowed thick, slowly nodding his head. His gaze now stuck on yours. His scared and nerve wrecked appearance crushed you. It was opposite of the man he appears to show to everyone, only you knew of his nightmares.

"I'm going to come closer, I promise I'm here, I'm real, you're at home. Safe in bed..." You shuffled over on your knees, hands starting at his forearm.

He slightly flinched at your touch, but made no attempt to move away. Your hand caressed across his arm, going to his own hand. You tenderly unravel his tight grip on his head, tangling your fingers in his.

A large sigh left him, his head falling back in frustration. He was now back to reality, though still beat and weary. Water glossed over his eyes. He bit his lip hard, trying to fight away any tears. He thought it would make him seem less of a man to cry in front of you. You couldn't disagree more.

"I'm so sor-" His voice cracked as he tried to speak, a couple tears has managed to escape. You didn't let him finish, his face was pressed deeply into your chest within seconds. He truly didn't know what he was apologizing for, for waking you? For having a nightmare? For his frequent PTSD attacks?

You had quickly taken his frame into your arms. He would have admitted that your knees pressing into his thighs was uncomfortable, but he didn't care right now. You were with him, holding him, and loving him. That's all he cared about.

"Don't you dare apologize, you've done nothing wrong." You cradled his head tight, pressing kisses to the top of his crown.

You managed to twist the two of you around, your back now against the headboard with him in your lap. He was quiet for awhile, you simply rocked him back and forth for a little bit.

His arms found themselves wrapped around your waist. He held onto you for dear life... Almost as if you'd fade away if he let go. You heard his breathing shake every few breaths, but he was calming down.

Continuing to rock, you reached your hands up to his hair. It was half up, half down. The hair tie pulled out of his hair easily enough. You were able to considerably comb through his hair with your fingers. A simple action you knew he loved.

While one hand worked at his soft black hair, another rubbed circles on his back. "Feeling better?"

He sniffled, leaning up to look at you. He couldn't meet your eyes, almost embarrassed. His meek, "Thank you." was accompanied by a nod.

You brushed through his hair, even with him sat up. "Want to talk about it?" You never wanted to pressure him into anything he wasn't comfortable with.

"Just the typical... but you were there, you were who I was shooting... It was like you were the enemy... I just- I can't describe it.. It made no sense-." His voice shook again, so you interrupted him.

"Exactly, baby. It was a nightmare that will never happen... Because I know you would never hurt me, that you would do anything to protect me?" Your tone implied a question.

He nodded furiously, now making direct eye contact. There wasn't a phrase he agreed more with. He looked at you like a loyal puppy.

"See? It was your sweet little mind playing mean tricks on you..." You rested a flat palm to his cheek. Taking in how handsome he looked in the moonlight.

He puffed, now more light hearted, and fell back onto your chest.

"I promise I will keep you safe from all the nightmares and mind games." He was frustrated at your words.

"But that's supposed to be my job..." He said, face conveniently still upon your breast.

You smiled warmly, "Yes, it is. And you fulfill it perfectly. I couldn't be happier. But, you must let me take care of you as well..."

He didn't respond, his internal monologue had a million points to argue back. But he didn't. He embasked in the moment, squeezing you tight again.

You took the silent request, resuming your back rubbing and head scratching.

From experience, you knew he would not fall asleep any time soon. That you'd probably fall asleep before him, no matter how hard you tried to stay up. All you could do for now was whisper how much you love him, play with his hair, and hum silly melodies.

And he was content with that.

A/N- Okay, so erm. I feel like it was rushed (it was), but I also feel that way about all my works. So... Please let me know how I can improve. Also this is my first time writing something like this, so I hope it wasn't terrible. XOXOXOX LOVE YALL

[fushitoru]

rainy days and brownies

pairing ⸺ college/modern!au: bf!gojo x reader

summary ⸺ you wake up for some soft moments with your boyfriend that involves brownies (turned freaky)

warnings ⸺ smut, tooth rotting fluff, some mild angst?, gojo unfortunately mentions skibidi toilet, I think I made gojo gen z here, boob worship, brownies and baking, established relationship, oral (f!receiving), gojo eats pussy like a champ, NOT EDITED, might be incoherent to everyone except me, product of a forceful effort to escape writer’s block, rainy mornings <3, lots of intimacy, art by 3-aem, probably in the same universe as this

general masterlist

Rainy mornings with Satoru means baking.

It’s a ritual the both of you have fallen into. On a day like this, where the air smells like rain, you blearily wake up from your nap to smell the warm distinct aroma of overly sweet brownies.

The slutty brownies were Satoru’s masterpiece. Even if he did overdo the sugar, you can’t admit that your stomach was growling as you rubbed your bleary eyes and frowned while raking a hand through your head. This bed head was going to be a bitch to untangle with the hairbrush.

“AND IIIIIIIIIIIII, WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUU—“

You jumped, caught off guard by Satoru randomly deciding to pay homage to Whitney Houston. Standing up, you headed towards the living room of you and Satoru’s apartment—-not before you adjusted your tank top so your tits weren’t out and the boy shorts you chose to sleep in properly covered your ass.

“WILL ALWAYS LOVE YOUUUUU—-“ You cringed at Satoru’s attempt of a high note, grumpily looking at him use his chocolate covered spatula as a makeshift mic. He was in the kitchen—-shirtless, of course—-now bending over to peek at the state of his brownies in the oven. Deciding the brownies weren’t done yet, he closed the oven door and stood up once more, reaching for his phone to undoubtedly scroll through TikTok. Continuing to hum different variations of the chorus, he swiped at his phone, ignorant to your presence behind him.

You think he’s kind of sweet like this. If it weren’t for him, the both of you would never be in this position. You would always be the cold frigid bitch he saw in freshman orientation and occasionally at parties across campus, and he would be the sweet, friendly guy that all the girls would continue to fall head over heels for.

To be honest, you don’t really see what he sees in you. You’re like a Disney villain, the witch that entraps him in her webs of insecurity and jealousy, but he remains the valiant prince, fighting to get to you. When he finally has you in his arms, he kisses you into believing that you are his princess instead.

It’s obvious in the way he fought for you—memorizing your schedule, rushing across campus just to walk you to class, pleading with you to grab dinner. And each time, you’d brush him off with sharp rejections, finding excuses to keep him at arm’s length.

But when he finally had you, finally cracked all your defenses—he was never going to let you go. You could see as much; the way he proudly walked on campus with you at his side, across the main quad so he could boast that he got you. You were his, and he was fully, undoubtedly yours. At parties, his eyes would always be on you, raking his eyes up and down your figure in your nurse outfit, conjuring up the hundred and thirty four positions he would fuck you so good in, even if there were prettier girls clinging onto his arms asking for a morsel of his attention. Pettily enough, you would just need to sigh and mumble “This party isn’t fun,” to have Satoru whipped, ushering you out of the frat house while those girls glared at the back of your Halloween costume, angry beyond measure that a nobody like you has the campus sweetheart wrapped around your finger.

Loud booms of the Vine gunshot sound effect snaps you back into the present, where Satoru is snickering at some god awful brain rot. You choose to approach him, wrapping your arms around his waist and smothering your face into his muscular back.

“Hi baby,” you mumble.

“Guess which sleepyhead is awake!” He announces to the world and turns around, and your traitorous heart jumps in its chest while looking into his eyes. It��s stupid. You’re both in your PJs on a morning where the rain thuds against the window pane, blurring both the window and all outside life, suspending you both in this moment. His eyes look affectionately down to you, and he plants a wet kiss on your forehead. “How was your nap, baby?”

“It was good.” You watch him turn around again to peek at the oven, and he hums, upper arm flexing as he grabs the heavy bag of flour, dragging it closer to him. “When’d you get up?”

“Around 7.”

You shoot him a bewildered look as you hop onto the counter, a better space to observe your boyfriend. When he realized that you had woken up, he had left his phone open to give you a kiss, reel playing noises. You peek over and almost snort at what is playing.

“Satoru, why are you watching alligators get chased away by a shovel?”

He looks up from the bowl of brownie batter he was now cleaning—-with his tongue, mind you—-and grins boyishly. “Isn't it crazy how hundreds of years of evolution get destroyed by a shovel?”

”Your feed is not normal,” you shake your head, keeping a stony face as you continue to scroll through his TikTok. In fact, it’s hilarious—-the things he got were weirder than one could dream, with toilets producing heads of men taking over whole cities. You’re not sure what that means about your boyfriend, but you accept it as you watch the nonsensical video.

“Wait,” he makes his way over to you, standing in between your legs. “Is that skibidi toilet?”

“What the hell is that.”

“Baby,” he whines. “You don’t know the lore? I don’t know if I can be with you for any longer.”

Your bite back a grin. “And subjecting me to hours of FNAF backstory wasn’t testament to how much I love you?”

Before he could whine back, you noticed he had some leftover chocolate on the side of his mouth and leaned over to lick it. Humming at the taste, you grabbed his hands and took in his brownie coated index and middle finger into your mouth.

He frowns. “Are you trying to seduce me into forgiving you and giving you more brownies?”

You laugh softly and give him a soft smooch on his shoulder. “No, silly. If I ate any more than half, I would have diabetes.”

He grabs the back of your hips and pulls you closer into him, nuzzling his nose against yours. The physical contact rubs at your nerves the right way, firing off that emotional part of you that makes you think loving him is so easy. How lucky you are that he’s chosen to give you his love.

His god-awful alarm blares—same annoying sound he keeps hitting snooze on for his 7ams—and the moment breaks as he reaches for the oven mitts to pull out the brownies. The aroma hits you instantly, making your mouth water. Satoru blows dramatically on the brownies, pouting and mock-yelling, “Hurry up and cool down! My girlfriend wants to eat you.” You can’t help but giggle. Once Satoru finally decides they’re cool enough, he grabs one and offers it to you. “Make way for the choo-choo train!” he snickers, guiding the brownie through imaginary tracks, a shit-eating grin on his face, before plopping it into your mouth.

You can’t help but let out a soft sigh as the brownie melts on your tongue, its warmth enveloping your senses. Rich, velvety tones of chocolate overwhelm your mouth, with each bite releasing a symphony of deep, indulgent flavors that linger long after the brownie is fully swallowed. “Wow, this is actually good.”

He pauses, brownie and hand held in mid air. “Why do you sound surprised?”

“I don’t know.” You shrug innocently but stick your tongue out to him regardless.

Popping the brownie in his mouth--but not before sending you a pout---he brushes his hands together to remove the brownie crumbs as he makes his way back in between your legs. The way he settles between them makes you all too aware of the heat of his groin encompassing you. He lazily drags his eyes up your figure, but not before settling on your outfit. His eyes then flick down to watch his hands trace the hem of your tank top, and your eyes follow his hands, a little dizzy by the action.

You’re always a bit sensitive in the mornings, and before this day, you and Satoru’s interactions have been limited to a kiss before he runs for his 7am and then doing college work until 3am, where you’re both too tired for anything particularly frisky. So, yea, you are kind of pent up---and judging by the bulge that’s starting to form in Satoru’s sweats, you assume he is too.

You put your elbows on his shoulder blades to give him head scratches from behind and lean towards his jawlines giving small kisses. You can feel him close his eyes, purring silently like a cat, and underneath your hands, his back and shoulder blades tense and relax as you rake your hands over his scalp.

“This new?” He uses his index finger to snap the strap of your tank top against your shoulder, using his mouth to given open mouthed kisses to your collarbone.

“Mhm,” you hum, a little deliriously at that---he’s begun to trail down, mouth working at the swell of your breasts.

He slowly pulls the collar of your tank down, down down down until your breast pops out. His eyes trace the swing urgently and groans. “I missed these, sweet girl.”

You gasp sharply when he puts it in his mouth, tongue swirling around the nipple. Satoru’s always been a boob guy, joking about his hands being your bra to support “those mommy milkers.” Right now, he’s doing just that; groping the hell out of them and giving them kisses, as if they were God’s greatest creation.

As much as you were enjoying your boyfriend’s boob worshipping, you need more. You were throbbing in want of contact on your pussy, and you made sure to relay just that. “Toru, I need more,” you whined.

“God forbid a man appreciate nice boobs.” He rolls his like the sassy man he is and parts with your nipple like lips after a messy and wet make out session. Your breasts are gleaming with his spit, a string connecting your nipple to his lips. He trails his face down your torso, making his way down to his knees until he was facing your crotch.

You whine and clench your thighs together to draw his face closer to the space between your thighs. He looks up at you and coos, giving your inner thigh a kiss. “I can smell you from here, cutie.”

His statement reminds you that you’re not too wet in the mornings. As soon as you wake up, some of your morning sessions with Satoru require the aid of lube to ensure no pain. Irritation flares at you at the thought that you might need to leave your position to grab some l—-

Oh.

“What the hell. I thought you wet your pants,” Satoru giggles. The finger running through your folds glides messily, as you both marvel to how wet you are. You’re also on another plane; you haven’t felt his touch for weeks, and the feeling overwhelms you as the squelches your pussy makes echo throughout the kitchen.

Satoru gives you a kiss on your neck. “Baby, can I?” You deliriously remember that he’s lightly circling his finger around your entrance and when you finally give him the okay, he pushes in.

Both of you groan at how tight you are. “Satoru,” you moan and proceed to bring him in for a kiss as he pistons in and out of your pussy, curling them just the way you like and making you see colors.

“Pretty, pretty girl,” he groans. “Left my baby so pent up.”

At that, all you can do is nod and whimper in agreement. All that leaves your mouth are gasps of his names and oh my god’s because he’s making you feel so good.

And then, you almost scream as you feel him blowing hot air onto your folds, leaning down to give teasing kitten licks around your clit, but not directly on it. His tongue drags up and down until he finally stops it right next to your clit as if feeling the sensation of your pussy throbbing, echoing your fastened heartbeat skin-to-skin while drooling.

Frustrated, you try to move your hips, but Satoru grabs them to stay in place. He’s so close to the place you want him, but he’s stationed in one place, spit flowing down as his tongue is still and his dark eyes are staring at you as if enraptured by your struggling.

“Satoru, please lick my clit,” you moan wantonly, begging for him to change his position.

But Satoru Gojo wouldn’t be Satoru Gojo without some teasing. “What was that, baby? Avoid your clit? You got it.”

“No,” you sobbed, grabbing onto his hair and directing his tongue to your clit. This time, he relents, sucking the bud into his mouth and hollowing his cheeks, making you see stars.

But soon, his quick and fast lapping turn into lazy licks, and you get frustrated, grinding against air and pussy oozing out wetness as Satoru keeps his tongue outstretched in front of you but not close enough to make contact with your skin, teasing. You hate the feeling of your pussy throbbing and the inner thighs and pussy wet with your slick, lacking the sensation you needed to finally climax. “Oh my god, Satoru, please make me cum.”

“I don’t know baby, you sound pretty commanding to me.” The motherfucker shrugs as if he has nothing to do with your dilemma and starts trailing kisses up your inner thigh. His touches were close to where you needed him most, making you ache for the sensation of his wet laps against you.

“Please, baby,” you beg. “You feel so good, you’re making me feel soo good. I love you so much. Please let me cum.” You’re full on sobbing, hips writhing to get any sensation in.

Satoru, at your display, seems to give in, because he’s coming in once more, giving you a sweet little kiss on your clit. You nearly ascend.

He’s diving in, making a rhythm of dipping his tongue into your entrance and coming back to give sloppily wet laps on your clit. It’s when he groans while his tongue is inside, hot air and vibrations needily simulating your clit, that you come up with a gasp. You roll your hips, Satoru giving you little licks to help you ride out your orgasm.

For how hard you came, you’re bucking your hips frantically, body on a mind of its own as you almost fall off the counter. Satoru has to grip your thighs to prevent that potential injury and rubs soothing circles on the outside of your thigh as you pant, wetness and sweat likely painting the counter beneath you. It’s not until your breath returns back to it’s normal pace that you notice Satoru’s head against your thighs, looking up at you with lovesick eyes.

You’re probably giving him the same look back, you realize, given he made you ascend to heaven and back. He gives an affectionate kiss to your mound, moaning corny shit like “Your pussy tastes sweeter than the brownie.”

And then he stands up, knees popping on the way back up, and despite your fucked out state, you can’t help but giggle. “You old man with the popping knee caps.”

He glares at you playfully, but you know his expression too well to know there’s no real offense in it. “Hey. Rude to say that after I just made you cum your brains out.”

”And you’re about to get the same thing,” you purr, putting a hand on his hard-on. He hisses but looks at you with lust blown eyes as he grabs the back of your thighs to carry you to your shared bedroom.

Yes, rainy days do mean baking with Satoru, but not without intimacy with your even sweeter boyfriend in bed.

general masterlist

comment or reblog to let me know your thoughts! I appreciate all of them <3

a/n lol this was a bitch to write. this might be a word soup or salad or whatever for all readers and that’s ok! I’ve written this primarily at 1am so…

eugh ok im going back to writing ch5 of bridgerton!gojo and fixing the em dashes in this post when i wake up LOL