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osarina · 8 months

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ᡣ𐭩 TELLING THEM THEY'RE PRETTY!

FEATURING: dazai osamu, fyodor dostoevsky, nikolai gogol

SUMMARY: telling the bsd boys that they're pretty! (wordcount: 3.5k; sfw; fem!reader)

AUTHOR'S NOTES: i had cute dividers but this won't show up in the tags if use them D: ! i had sooo much fun with this! i hope you guys enjoy! :D

DAZAI OSAMU

You can’t seem to drag your gaze away from him.

As a long day of work comes to an end, you rest your head on your arms and lean on your desk. Kunikida is still tapping furiously away at his computer, Tanizaki and Naomi are whispering about something together, Ranpo is sorting through his candy, and Atsushi and Kyouka are looking through files. But your eyes are tracing over Dazai Osamu as he leans back in his chair, lazily spinning and bobbing his head to the music he’s listening to.

The setting sun casts an ethereal glow over him, his lips idly turned up and his lashes brushing his cheeks as rests his eyes waiting for the day to end. Dazai Osamu is pretty—you’ve always acknowledged that—but there’s something about the peace of this moment, the domesticity of the office and the ambience of the lighting that has you utterly enraptured.

He looks so at ease, and Dazai Osamu is never at ease. Even when he throws up that clownlike mask of his and spends his day entertaining under the guise of joy and humor, you can always see the strain in the corner of his eyes and lips. It’s subtle, almost imperceptible really—if you were anyone else, you’d miss it, but you’re not anyone else, much to his displeasure, because you know he hates how easily you can see right through him.

After a few minutes, Dazai peeks his eyes open—and you’re almost breathless, because his eyes are like melted honey beneath the sunset, warm and gentle, glittering with amusement. You think you can stare at him forever and never tire of it.

He rolls his chair closer to you, resting his forearms on your desk so that your arms are brushing and laying his head down on them so that his face is mere inches from yours, matching your position. There's a smile on his lips, soft and teasing as he whispers, "You've been staring at me for five minutes."

"Mhm," you agree, voice just as quiet as if to not disturb the tranquility of the office. You can feel his breath light against your face from the proximity he's laying at and you can smell peppermint on his breath from the candy you’d seen him swipe from Ranpo’s desk earlier when the other man had gone to speak to Fukuzawa.

“Is there something on my face?” he asks playfully, dark eyes glimmering as he waits for your response.

You can tease him back and say yes, as you usually do and is probably what he expects—and you fully intend to do just that but the words that leave your lips are not that.

“You just look really pretty today,” you say softly, watching as his eyes widen just a bit at your words, pink dusting his cheeks.

His lips part to say something but no words leave them. He opens and closes them a few times and you marvel because Dazai must know that he’s pretty from all of the attention he gets from women, so you don’t understand why he’s so thrown off hearing you voice it out loud. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him genuinely speechless before now.

“So you don’t think i’m pretty every other day?” Dazai pushes his bottom lip out into an over-exaggerated pout, recovering swiftly from your words, though you expected nothing less from him. But you can’t help but note that his cheeks are still a bit pink and there’s something indecipherable in his eyes.

“Prettier than usual,” you amend and watch as the flush on his cheeks darkens and he instead resorts to completely burying his face in his arms with a frustrated groan.

“I am supposed to be the flirt, bella,” he complains, voice muffled by his arms as he hides his face from your view. He cannot hide the way his ears have gone bright red, and you have half a mind to reach out and tug at them

You lift your hand to your lips to hide the giggle that rises to your lips, scooching your chair a bit closer so you can knock your shoulder against his.

“I’m not flirting,” you say. “Just stating a fact.”

He turns his head to the side, just enough so that he can give you a heavy side eye—you can only barely see the red hue coating his cheekbone.

“Not mutually exclusive,” he says grumpily, and you lean down to press your lips against his now exposed forehead, smiling softly as his eyes instinctively flutter shut and his body relaxes as the touch.

Then, you receive a pencil to the side of your head. You yelp as your hand flies to where it had made contact with you, scowling at your assailant who is none other than Ranpo, smiling widely as he waves at you and then motions to Kunikida, who is red faced and staring at the two of you. You can’t tell if it’s in embarrassment or anger.

“Not during work hours,” he snaps, and you realize that he’s definitely embarrassed, so you share a short look with Dazai, who has regained that mischievous look in his eyes as he glances over at Kunikida and back at you.

Without saying a word, or giving any other sort of warning, he leans in to press his lips against yours. It’s a short and chaste kiss, but his lips are soft and taste of candy, and you think you might be able to kiss them forever if you get the chance.

Now you’re the one flustered, you can feel heat rising to your cheeks as you stare at Dazai, who is evidently thoroughly pleased to not be the one uncomposed if the unscrupulous grin on his lips has anything to say about it.

He tosses you a wink before rolling his chair back over to his desk, animatedly complaining about Ranpo and Kunikida being lonely and bitter and getting in the way of Dazai’s chance at true love because of it—you only roll your eyes at his dramatics, as you usually do when Dazai goes off on tangents, but it’s with much more fondness this time.

•••

FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY

You are not listening to a single word that he’s saying.

It’s a dangerous situation to be in with Fyodor Dostoevsky, you’re sure he’s noticed by now and he will be petty enough to finish his brief about his plans and your involvement and then ask you to repeat what he said, but you just can’t focus.

He tied his hair back, you note, still quite a bit awed by the sight. There are two locks framing his face and his bangs are falling between his eyes, but the rest of his hair, which has grown a bit long in the weeks that he’s been ardently preparing for the final stages of his plan, is pulled back into a lax bun.

He looks so casual, and Fyodor Dostoevsky never looks casual. He’s dressed in a turtleneck and loose pants as he leans back in his chair. There’s a folder resting on his lap that he’s idly flipping through and he keeps glancing up at you occasionally, pale lips flat and violet eyes disapproving, but you just nod along to his words even though you know that he knows that you’re not paying attention.

And you think, distantly, that you probably should be paying attention because he’s talking about your upcoming mission and what you should expect from it but you figure you’ll be fine—it’s a simple infiltration mission, nothing to worry about. And you’d much rather prefer to appreciate Fyodor’s rare repose than to listen him droll on about boring topics.

Sometimes, you think if he just kept his mouth shut all the time, he’d be perfect. But you think you’d miss his sharp-witted comments and the lengthy debates the two of you have after a few glasses of wine.

He looks extra pretty tonight, even beyond the casual hairstyle and clothes and his uncharacteristically relaxed demeanor, and you think it’s because of the way the flames of the fireplace are casting an enchanting orange and red glow over his face. It makes the violets of his eyes burn alive in a way that they usually don’t, you’re far too used to the glacial visage they take whenever he puts his attention on someone. Every time he glances up at you, you swear that you can get lost in them.

“… And you are not listening to a word that I am saying, are you?”

Fyodor is giving you the heaviest side eye as he finally calls you out, expression unamused. His brows are furrowed and his pale skin is taut with thinly veiled irritation.

“Of course, I am,” you dismiss, waving your hand. “Infiltration mission, detective agency, get close to the tiger boy.”

Fyodor looks distinctly unimpressed by your words, brows deepening—you figure you must have spoken wrongly, you probably shouldn’t have been so indifferent, and you bite back a sigh before reaching forward to press two fingers between Fyodor’s eyebrows, as if to forcibly smooth away his annoyance.

He blinks and draws back, out of reach of your arm, and then casts you an even more irritable look.

“You’re not taking this seriously,” he accuses. “This mission will be dangerous, you’ll be at risk of being exposed every moment you are in the agency and if you are exposed-“

“Your plans will be ruined,” you finish, forcing yourself not to roll your eyes. “I kno-“

“You could be killed,” Fyodor corrected, voice cold and sharp, and you look back over to him. He looks unusually intense, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the appearance that the flames of the fireplace are giving him as they flicker dangerously across his face or if it’s because he’s that displeased with you being distracted. Either way, you find your mind drifting again because wow. “Dazai Osamu is not a man to be taken lightly. When he manages to figure out who you are and what you’re doing, we will need an immediate extraction plan.”

“Careful, Fyodor,” you drawl, watching as his violet eyes narrow briefly, “almost sounds like you care.”

Fyodor’s lips twist but he doesn’t respond. You raise your eyebrows, he looks away. Your eyes shoot open.

“You have a bigger role to play,” Fyodor finally says, but he’s no longer looking at you. “You cannot be killed yet.”

“Yet,” you repeat, amused. Fyodor’s jaw tightens, he doesn’t look at you, his eyes are trained on the fireplace to the side of the two of you and you can vaguely see the flames reflecting in his eyes, burning ardently against the familiar violet.

You lean forward again, shifting off of the couch to sit on the coffee table between the two of you so you can reach him. You reach forward to brush your knuckles against his cheek—he doesn’t move away this time, but his eyes cut to the side to watch you carefully.

You don’t say anything for a moment, absently tucking one of the locks of hair framing his face behind his ear. His hair is soft, freshly washed—for once—it smells faintly of lavender and vanilla and you wonder if he stole your conditioner.

“You look very pretty tonight, Fyodor,” you say quietly, and then smile. “It’s hard to focus when you look like this.”

The expression Fyodor directs toward you is extraordinarily blank, except for the faintest specks of pink that glare compared to the pallor of his face.

He shakes his head, looking away from you yet again.

“… You cause me much suffering,” he murmurs, and somehow, you know that might be the closest you might get to an admission of love from Fyodor Dostoevsky.

You smile to yourself. “And you to I,” you say, voice a bit teasing, and then you add, “Now, can you tell me again what to look out for?”

The moment is ruined. Fyodor’s eye twitches and he’s giving you that unamused look again, and you think having him repeat himself might be a mistake because now you’re even more distracted, but Fyodor sighs and starts on his lecture again so you force yourself to listen.

It takes about three minutes for him to release a sigh of utter suffering when he realizes that your eyes have glazed over yet again.

•••

NIKOLAI GOGOL

Nikolai has a wild sort of beauty about him. He’s unpredictable and dangerous, and it’s widely apparent in his frenzied laughter and chaotic behavior. His eye glitters and his teeth gleam sharply beneath the glow of the moonlight as he waves his hands around, animatedly describing to you all of the details of the things he’s been doing while you were away.

Fyodor’s masterplan has involved Nikolai apparently taken upon an infiltration role at the ministry of defense—you think it’s a bold move for Fyodor to use Nikolai for such a tenuous mission, but he’s apparently been having the time of his life with it. Though he thinks his boss is deplorable and one of his coworkers has evidently pissed him off beyond repair, because now he’s telling you about how he’s been ‘pranking’ the man in righteous vengeance.

You think Nikolai’s idea of pranking varies from yours, because you’re pretty sure him using his ability to break into the man’s house constitutes a crime not a prank. But you don’t have it in you to make that distinction when he’s so excitedly telling you about how every day he’s been going into his house to move around all of his stuff and hide some of his belongings to make the man squirm. He’s succeeding outstandingly in his ambition, if the videos he’s waving in front of you have anything to say about it.

You watch as he frantically scrolls to the next video—“this one is the best,” he claims, as he has for every video thus far. You watch with an amused smile as his dark-haired coworker steps into his apartment and nearly starts crying when he realizes that all of his stuff has been moved again, scrambling for his phone to call the police, who have—according to Nikolai—apparently already told him multiple times that there’s nothing they can do about it. The video is shaking wildly, as if the person filming can barely hold the camera straight, and you’re convinced that’s exactly what it is because you can hear Nikolai’s muffled laughter coming from recording.

Nikolai naturally finds it much funnier than you do, half-way keeling over as he wheezes, his laughter shattering the peaceful night. The two of you are sitting at a park near the apartment that Fyodor had leased for you for the duration of the Yokohama operation. The moon is high in the sky, casting a bewitching glow over the lake in front of you and there’s a chill in the air—it’s a nice night all around, you think there will probably some frost dusting the grass in the morning but the cold hardly bothers you now with Nikolai pressed to your side as he laughs himself into a near-coughing fit over his harassment of his coworker.

“Why aren’t you laughing?” Nikolai suddenly complains loudly, scowling at you, but even then he keeps having to bite back residual laughter whenever he glances back down at his phone. “It’s funny.”

“It is funny,” you agree. Nikolai gives you a look as if he doesn’t believe you. “It is.”

“Then why aren’t you laughing?” Nikolai accuses doubtfully, and then adds, even more accusatory, “You hate me.”

You’re not sure why you aren’t laughing, honestly. Usually you’d be burying your face into his shoulder trying to smother your snickers, because even though you might not entirely agree with Nikolai’s idea of a prank, you can still find some humor in it. Because it is kind of funny. Kind of.

But then you realize that you’re probably not laughing because you’ve been spending most of the night admiring Nikolai rather than listening to him prattle on about his escapades and watching his poorly recorded videos, so you can’t fully appreciate the humor in the videos. With his cheeks flushed from copious amounts of laughter and his eyes glowing with excitement, you think he’s very pretty tonight—Nikolai is always pretty, but the angle at which he’s sitting leaves the moon haloing behind his head, and maybe it’s just because you’ve missed him the past few weeks when you’ve been abroad dealing with a territory dispute with Tolstoy, but you think there’s something special about tonight.

“I don’t hate you. I guess I’ve been too busy admiring you,” you finally say, a playful smile on your lips as you tilt your head to the side to look at him. “You look pretty tonight.”

Nikolai blinks, eyes wide and owlish as he processes your words. The longer he goes unresponsive, you acknowledge that a quiet Nikolai is far more unnerving than a loud and erratic Nikolai, you’d expected a more… theatrical response to your comment. A swish of his cape, him leaping to his feet with a twirl and an agreement, even just a wild laugh; instead, he looks away abruptly. He doesn’t even just look away, he physically turns his whole body away from you.

You blink.

“Nikolai?” you ask, a bit astonished when he literally ignores you. You lean forward, trying to get a look at his face, but then he swivels around even more and your lips part in shock. “Nikolai.”

You’re only met with a face full of his soft white hair, impeccably braided, as per usual—you have half a mind to tug at it hard to try to get a response from him, but you aren’t in the mood for the lewd comment that would likely spill from his lips after.

“Koly-“

“Poor me, poor me,” Nikolai suddenly cries loudly, “The little koshenya mocks me when all I do is try to make her laugh. Poor me, poor me.”

His hand flies to his face, melodramatic as he bemoans your alleged cruelty. You stare at him, mind trying to piece together what exactly is happening—Nikolai is always hard to predict, but you feel like this is a bit strange even for him, and that’s saying something.

“… What?” you start to ask but Nikolai has thrown himself into a loud and theatrical tirade about how he doesn’t deserve such injustice and how he was only trying to make you laugh, and how it’s so, so cold-hearted of you to taunt him when this is the first time the two of you have seen each other in weeks.

Nikolai is impossible to bargain with when he gets like this, so you only sigh and tilt your head up to the sky, his words flying in one ear and out the other as you wait for him to settle down on his own.

Instead, you swear the world is against you because rather than settling down, he becomes increasingly more noisy and distressed, and his accusations become even more asinine. Now, he’s saying that you’ve always had it out for him and how you weren’t laughing at his jokes because you hate him and want to report him to the police and how he should tell Dostoy about your betrayal, or better yet, he should stuff you in his cloak and leave you there?

You side-eye Nikolai heavily as he continues on, slightly alarmed, but brush off the casual threat as just Nikolai being Nikolai. You don’t know how to shut him up, you think you might be out here all night listening to him, and now you’re the one bemoaning your fate because how did a simple compliment turn into this.

Finally, an idea strikes.

You brace yourself, questioning your sanity and your entire existence before you interrupt him with a loud, “Quiz time!”

Nikolai goes silent instantly, head snapping toward you, eye even wider than before.

You think you’ve hit an all time low as you say, “Was I trying to mock you before?” Nikolai opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off before he can. “What’s that you say? I wasn’t? Ding ding! We’ve gotta winner!”

You think Nikolai might be having an internal crisis. He’s staring at you as if he’s seeing you for the first time in his life—his lips are parted, his eye void of the usual mischief dancing in it. He looks as if he wants to say something but he doesn’t know what.

You let out a long breath as you go to speak up again, but before you can, his eye is glittering again, sharp and dangerous, and his lips are curving up into a slow smile.

Nikolai inhales and then he takes a complete one-eighty as he bursts into loud cackles and says, “Ahahaha! I knew you loved me!” as if he wasn’t just lamenting your irrational hatred for him moments before.

Your eye twitches. He begins a second tirade, this one far more embarrassing for you than the last.

You regret everything.

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twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat · 9 months

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COME REST YOUR BONES NEXT TO ME ; SATORU GOJO, SUGURU GETO

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

word count; 4.6k

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

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

”holy shit!”

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

”satoru, it’s too early for this...”

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

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

(snowing.)

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

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

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

it’s beautiful.

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

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

the first snow of the year.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”never.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what more could a man want?

”hey, idiots!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

then he exhales. a fond hum. ”it is.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

suguru sighs.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(i'm sorry, you big baby.)

satoru grins.

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

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

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

”don’t pull the ’honey’ card.”

”and don’t play dumb, either.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

”hmph.”

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

and ah, satoru thinks. there it is again.

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

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

(married.)

sometimes he still can’t believe it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

”c’mere, suguru! sit on santa’s lap.”

”— you’re disgusting.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

”… santa can only do so much, baby.”

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

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

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

”of course not! blasphemy.”

a moment passes.

”… maybe one or two. as a treat.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

(look, satoru. isn’t it pretty?)

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

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

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

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

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

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

he hopes it never goes away.

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

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bro-atz · 2 months

Text

"they're like ocean waves"

in which: every time you see mingyu, you're hit with feelings of melancholy, nostalgia, and regret.

pair: non-idol!mingyu/author!afab!reader

word count: 7.7k

content: heavy angst, smut x 2!, slight hurt/comfort?, reader lives near the beach, reader is a loner, probably the worst communication you will ever see, bedroom sex, beach sex (they do it on a towel and under an umbrella no sand goes anywhere pls), romantic sex, oral sex, a pregnancy and a miscarriage, unprotected sex (PLS REMEMBER TO WRAP UP IRL!), completely consensual! and a happy ending i promise

rated: R | nsfw — minors do not interact

author's note: i actually wrote this as a very self indulgent fluff/angst y e a r s ago (2017) and stumbled upon it the other day, so i decided to fix her up, expand on her as an adult (aka add nsfw scenes lol), and reintroduce her to the world... also thank you sososo much to @yunhoszn for helping me work some details through!

You hated the ocean. You hated the beach. You hated the salty sea breeze that would hit your nose and last all day in your hair and on your skin. The worst part was that you hated the memories, and you hated the man that brought the memories.

His name was Kim Mingyu, and his name left a bad taste in your mouth. What was once sweet and rolled off your tongue like a knife through warm butter you now hesitated to utter and choked you like the salt in the ocean, in the sea. In complete honesty, the name itself was so foreign at that point, but his eyes, those eyes that promised her empty lies, his eyes were so darned familiar that you couldn't help but remember them.

You were usually cooped up inside the house frequently as you slaved away at your endless manuscripts that kept piling up but never saw the light of day, and you would force yourself to take breaks. Yet, the second you stepped foot outside, you froze. You were terrified that you were going to run into him because you genuinely wanted nothing to do with him at that point. So, you usually stayed at home, and you drowned in words and papers.

One day, though, you were forced to go outside. Although you hated the beach, you needed to head back to the beach just one last time to develop the setting for your story. You pulled yourself to the beach and stood with your toes buried in the sand and your arms crossed over your chest. There was a beach towel you had laid down on the ground and an umbrella driven into the sand that went over the towel, but you couldn't bring yourself to sit just yet. The warm ocean breeze swept through your hair as you gazed at the setting sun. Orange hues filled your vision as you thought back to the first time you met him, the first time you set foot on the beach.

"Hey there. What's a pretty girl like you doing alone on a beach like this?"

You were sitting on a beach towel on the sand and enjoying the view one fine evening. The sky was painted with different warm colors, and it was truly beautiful. You were so enamored by the sky that you didn't even bother to look in the direction of the person who spoke to you. That, and you kind of wanted to be left alone because his pick up line was a little too sleazy for you.

"I'm enjoying the view," you answered simply.

"Mind if I join you?" the man asked.

You were so ready to tell him off, but he was saved by his devilish good looks. You looked to see him, and you were met with the view of the most breathtaking young man in the most breathtaking backdrop. His golden, sun-kissed skin glimmered in the setting sun, and his eyes sparkled like the ocean when the sun hit it just right. His hair was wet with ocean water and swept back, little beads of water dotting his neck, shoulders, and chest. He shot you the most marvelous smile, stunning you into complete silence. You barely managed to nod, the man sitting down on the beach towel right next to you.

Originally, you had your legs crossed and your back slightly hunched over, but you were suddenly so self-conscious in your two-piece swimsuit around this stunning man that sat next to you, so you hugged your knees to your chest, doing your best to cover up most of your body.

You couldn't help but glance to your side every so often to catch the side profile of the man, and he would glance back, causing you to look away abruptly. That was the extent of it that day. The two of you merely sat on the beach together and shared stolen glances, the sound of the ocean waves crashing filling the silence between the two of you.

What was crazy to you was that it became a recurring thing. You were at the beach every single day for an entire week partly because you actually needed to get into the right mood to work on your latest manuscript, and partly because you were hoping that you would run into the beautiful man; and you did. Every single day for an entire week, the man would meet you at the same spot around the same time and just enjoy the view of the setting sun with you before leaving once the sky got dark and the moon was starting to rise.

The two of you had yet to speak until one week later; you mustered up all of your courage and finally decided to interrupt the crashing waves to talk to him.

"I don't believe I've introduced myself," you stated as you turned to face him.

You stuck your hand out and told him your name, a slight look of shock crossing his face, only to be replaced by the friendliest smile you had ever seen. Your heart thudded wildly in your chest as you tried to figure out what took you aback the most: his gorgeous smile, his warm, inviting hand, or his eyes— his wonderful, sparkling eyes. He took your hand and held it lightly as he said, "Kim Mingyu."

That was all he said. He only told you his name that day.

As the suns kept setting, and as the days rolled by, you found yourself more and more enthralled with the ethereal being that kept appearing before you. Thankfully, you talked a little more day by day, and day by day, you learned more and more about Kim Mingyu. Not only had you learned more and more about Kim Mingyu, but you also got closer and closer to him as well.

First, your shoulders brushed. Next, you were bumping shoulders. Your fingers touched and laced with each other. Your head leaned onto his shoulder, his arm wrapped around your waist, and you gazed at each other fondly. You got closer to each other gradually, naturally, easily.

At the time, everything seemed so simple for you. You had gone to the beach to enjoy the orange sunset and get inspired, but you ended up enjoying Mingyu's sparkling, hopeful eyes more. You enjoyed the way he would talk to you about anything and everything while lightly flirting with you in between conversations. You liked how his eyes would completely light up when he talked about the things he was passionate about, how his smile would get wider as you showed interest in the things he liked, and how he was so completely focused on every single word you said when you told him about the things you liked, the stories you were working on, and even mundane things like how your day was going.

The day that made your heart beat so fast that you wanted it to stop beating so that you could finally breathe was the day he kissed you. You were talking animatedly about God knows what when you saw his slightly narrowed gaze and his subtle smile.

"W-What? What is it?" you stuttered, suddenly startled by the way his hand moved from your waist up to your ribcage.

"You're so beautiful," he whispered as leaned in closer to you, his face mere centimeters from yours. "You always look so beautiful when you smile and laugh..."

Your heart skipped several beats for several reasons: the words leaving his mouth, his hand pulling you into him, and his nose brushing against yours. His lips were dangerously close to yours, but they didn't meet yours until you quickly moved forward and left a peck on his. He exhaled softly, a smile playing on his lips before he kissed you again. His hand moved from your body to the back of your head, his fingers running through the roots and massaging your head lightly.

At first, his kisses started tenderly, his soft lips just pressing against yours over and over again, but when you moved your hand to cup his cheek, he couldn't help but take it one step further (not that you were complaining). His lips sucked gently on your lower lip before taking it in between his teeth and tugging lightly, making you moan slightly. You moved your hands to his bare waist and gripped his hips as if it would help you keep your grip on reality, but your mind was slowly melting, and you were sucked into his affection to the point where you didn't even realize he had you pinned to the beach towel you had been sitting on.

The sun was still taking its sweet time descending into the ocean when you brought Mingyu back to your place. Mingyu was bathed in the golden light that seeped through the window in your bedroom as he knelt on the bed before you. He removed the white button-up he never had buttoned up, giving you a complete view of his muscles. You had seen him shirtless a countless number of times, but that didn't stop your heart from threatening to leap out of your chest.

Mingyu silently held his hands out for you to take, guiding you so that you were kneeling on the bed as well so that he could hold your waist with a firm but gentle grip. When his hand slipped behind your back and brought you closer to him, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders. He kissed you passionately several times before brushing his nose against your jawline so he could leave kisses along the curve of your neck. You sighed sensually when you felt him trail his kisses along your shoulder, his fingers moving up to slip the strap of your pale sundress off your shoulder.

However, Mingyu's patience wore thin. He bunched up the fabric of your sundress and pulled it off you, leaving you in nothing but your panties— but you were quick to take those off yourself because you, too, were impatient. His eyes scanned you from head to toe, taking in every square inch of your bare body. You were starting to feel self-conscious, but he didn't give you the chance to doubt yourself more. He pulled you flush against him and kissed you hungrily, his fingers dragging along the curve of your waist before he wrapped his arms around you and slowly laid you down on the bed.

Mingyu knelt between your legs. He trailed his kisses down your neck, over your collarbones, and to your breast. He licked your nipple before taking your breast into his mouth, both of his hands moving to massage your breasts. He looked up at you with lust filled eyes as he sucked painfully hard on your tits, your back arching as you let out a pleasure-filled whimper. It did not help when he switched breasts, making sure he gave both of them equal amounts of love.

"Ah—! Mingyu..." you sighed blissfully when he moved away from your breasts to suck on your clit. That sigh turned into a loud whimper when he fully committed to eating you out, his mouth slurping on your arousal. You cursed under your breath and ran your fingers through his hair when he slipped two of his fingers into your cunt.

Mingyu refused to let up. He ate you out as if he was a starved man, unable to get enough of your sweet taste. You could help but roll your hips in rhythm as you chased your high. What did it for you was him sitting up and fingering you hard, his fingers rubbing against your G-spot with enough force and speed to make you cum. Your cunt quivered as you came, a sweet, loud moan leaving your lips and echoing in your bedroom and Mingyu's ears.

Your chest heaved as you gasped and tried to regulate your breathing. Through half-lidded eyes, you watched Mingyu move back towards you. He brought the two fingers he had buried in your cunt to your lips. You looked up at him as you ran your tongue along his fingers before taking them into your mouth and sucking them. Mingyu bit his lower lip, a smirk threatening to cross his face as he watched you listen to his silent instructions so obediently.

"God..." he whispered when he took his fingers out of your mouth and brought his face down, his lips ghosting over yours. "God..."

He gave you a good taste of yourself when he kissed you, his tongue diving deep into your mouth. While you couldn't get enough of the way he kissed you with such intensity, you wanted more. You felt empty now that his fingers weren't inside you, and you needed him to fill you up again. You brought your knee up between his legs and rubbed against his insanely stiff crotch, the man breaking off the kiss immediately to inhale sharply. Looks like he couldn't wait much longer either.

You pushed yourself up and leaned on your elbows when Mingyu moved away from you completely. Hooking his thumb into the waistband of his shorts, he tugged them down slowly, his other hand pulling his erect cock out of his shorts in the process. You couldn't help but widen your eyes when you saw his length and girth, your heart thudding faster at the thought of having something so massive inside you.

Mingyu took off his shorts and dropped them off the side of the bed while stroking his cock. The bedsheets rustled as he moved so that he was right before you once again. You heard him chuckle lightly when you gulped nervously seeing his cock closer. It was twitching and raring to go, and while your body craved him, your mind was swirling with worry.

"I'll go slow, I promise," Mingyu whispered as he read your thoughts.

You felt your face heat up slightly— you didn't realize that you weren't being conspicuous with your feelings at all and were slightly embarrassed. You didn't have much time to sit in the embarrassment, though, because Mingyu started rubbing the tip of his cock along your folds. You felt it prod inside you a couple of times, but he had yet to fully enter.

The anticipation was driving you crazy. You flung your head back and arched your back while whining, your entire body craving him.

"M-Mingyu... Hurry," you whined quietly.

"What's the rush?" he asked somewhat cheekily as if he was trying to get a rise out of you, as if he was trying to get you to beg for it.

You whimpered and whined, the words refusing to formulate. You just wanted him. Plain and simple. You looked up at him with desperate eyes when he placed his hand next to your head, his face hovering above yours. A quick look of surprise crossed his face, making your heart skip a beat. He looked down and guided his cock to your entrance once more, preparing to enter you.

"All right, sweetheart," you shivered hearing his choice of nickname for you. "I'm going to start, okay?"

You nodded, and Mingyu started moving. His cock made its way inside you, spreading you wide open, filling your vision with fireworks. You choked on a gasp as his cock seemed to just keep going and going. When he bottomed out, you were absolutely certain he was going to hit your cervix with his size, making you extremely nervous but also excited as well.

Mingyu rolled his hips slowly at first, giving you a little more time to get used to his size. You reached for his shoulders and held onto them while he fucked you, the pads of your fingers pressing into his skin. The two of you were breathing shallowly, the mattress springs beginning to quietly squeak as he slowly sped up.

"You feel good?" he asked you in a low voice?

"So g-good," you murmured, your eyes fluttering as you let the pleasure begin to consume you.

"Can I— Shit— Move faster?"

"Mmhmm..."

Mingyu wasted no time. You felt like his cock was going to rip your insides out when he got faster and harder, the friction inside you just making everything more intense. You cried loudly as you felt his waist slapping against yours, your legs wrapping around his waist. Mingyu lowered his body further, his lips right next to your ear. You could hear him breathing and grunting erratically, his hot breath sending tingles through your body.

Suddenly, Mingyu sped up. The bedsprings squeaked loudly and the entire bed shifted with every thrust. You screamed, your nails digging into his skin as you felt your entire body swell with more and more pleasure. With one particularly strong thrust, Mingyu actually managed to ram into your cervix, immediately filling your vision with stars. You squeezed your eyes shut and cried as you came again.

The fluttering and clenching of your cunt was too much for the man to bear. You heard his breathing hitch and a groan rumble in his throat while his waist continued moving rapidly.

"Fuck! C-Cumming!" Mingyu grunted loudly.

He pulled out and stroked his cock several times before ropes of white shot out and landed your stomach. He continued to grunt and sigh as more cum spurt out of his cock, his hand slowing down as he released his entire load to decorate your skin.

The two of you were breathing hard. Your breathing slowed down, and your eyes could barely stay open as your body relaxed more and more into the mattress, the pleasure still lingering within you.

You ended up falling asleep just like that, and when you woke up, you saw that Mingyu had cleaned the two of you up but that you both were still nude, the only fabric covering your skin being the duvet on top of you. He was fast asleep and hugging you close to him as the two of you laid side by side, his hold on your waist only getting stronger when he felt you shift in his arms.

Mingyu's face was right before yours. You watched him breathe softly, peacefully, your heart fluttering as you observed his beautiful features. You wanted to reach out and run your finger along his sculpted face, but at the same time, you felt so at peace just seeing his relaxed, sleeping face. You settled for pressing your ear to his chest and listening to his beating heart as you drifted off to sleep again.

You and Mingyu had spent a countless number of nights together after that, and every single time, he was so overwhelmingly generous and passionate with you that you couldn't help but fall for him— and you fell hard.

Yet, you didn't think to tell him about your feelings. Truthfully, you were too scared to. You didn't know how he felt about you, and you seriously couldn't tell sometimes, especially when you saw him talking to other people.

Sometimes, while you waited for Mingyu at the beach, you would spot him talking and laughing with a couple friends. One day, however, you saw him with another woman. Technically speaking, you and Mingyu never made any sort of commitment to each other, so he was free to talk to, flirt with, or sleep with anyone he wanted to, but you still couldn't help but feel your heart drop to your feet. He looked so happy with her, and every time she touched his arm in a flirty manner, he would accept it and reciprocate.

You were hurt. You thought you and Mingyu had something a little more special. You thought that he didn't treat all girls the same way he treated you, that he wasn't like every other man, that he wasn't actually a player. All of those thoughts completely shattered when you saw him with her. You were upset with him, but you were also upset with yourself for never saying anything to him, and based on the way he was interacting with that woman, you felt like you probably shouldn't say anything.

That was the last time you saw him... for a while. The day you saw him with the girl, you left, and he texted you asking you where you were, but you didn't respond. He didn't send a single message after that. You were left alone— well, actually, you weren't completely alone.

A couple of weeks later, you went to the doctor because you were unwell. You were throwing up all the time, and you were unable to focus or do anything properly. You thought it was a stomach flu, but it was a baby instead, and it was his baby; it had to be his baby because you hadn't been with another man ever since.

After finding out, you didn't really know what to do with the information. You debated telling Mingyu, but no matter how you thought about it, your mind kept drifting to him and the other woman. You didn't want to disrupt his life, but in the same breath, he deserved to know. That being said, seeing that his last text to you was weeks prior always stopped you from sending a message, and if you couldn't even send a text, where the hell were you going to call him?

You ended up living with your little secret kept close to your heart. You took care of yourself, and you were on top of things. You thought about what your life was going to look like after you gave birth, and when you looked around your desolate apartment, you thought about sharing your life with someone. You thought about it, but at the end of it all, you could only think of one person you actually wanted to share it with, and it made you spiral all over again.

One particular day, you felt completely off. You had horrible cramps, and you were so dizzy that you couldn't do anything but keep your head in the toilet and dry heave because you literally had nothing in your system but your body was going through it to the point where you were delirious. In fact, you were so delirious that you called Mingyu right before you passed out.

When you came to, you were in a hospital, and you were confused as hell. It was nighttime. Moonlight filled your room along with the beeping of the heart monitor. You pushed yourself up and looked to your side to see Mingyu fast asleep while kneeling at the edge of the hospital bed. Your heart skipped a beat seeing his perfectly chiseled face before your brain questioned why he was there in the first place.

Mingyu stirred when you tried to shift to a more comfortable position, and the second he blinked some of the sleep out of his eyes, he fully awoke and stood up quickly to stand right by your side.

"Hey," he whispered. "How are you feeling?"

"Okay, but, what's going on? Why am I—"

"Shh, just get some rest... You've been through a lot."

You were getting nervous with the way he was talking to you, raising more questions. There was no way in hell you were going to sleep without getting some answers.

"...Why am I here? And why are you here?"

Mingyu took a deep breath. He knew you weren't going to rest until you knew what was happening.

So, he told you everything. You called him right before you passed out, and he immediately picked up. When you didn't speak, he at first thought you butt dialed him or something, but your phone was right by your face, and he heard your shallow, shaky breaths. He, thankfully, remembered where your spare key was and immediately got to your apartment to see you on the ground in your bathroom. He called the paramedics, they brought you to the hospital, and after running through all of the tests, the doctor told him what happened.

"You... You were pregnant," Mingyu whispered.

"Yeah, I'm pregnant, but—"

"No," Mingyu cut you off. "You were pregnant."

White noise filled your ears. The words, with the infliction, sunk in, and you felt everything around you collapse. You felt like Mingyu hit you with a right hook when he said that, and you were close to knocking out.

Were.

How could that even happen?

The doctors explained it to you, but you weren't listening; you couldn't bring yourself to listen. Your head was muddled, every voice that spoke to you was muffled, and your heart was muzzled.

You were so lifeless throughout your stay at the hospital that Mingyu couldn't help but stay by your side. Granted, you thought was doing it out of pity, but it was mainly because he knew that if you were left alone, you would fall over again, and he didn't want that to happen to you ever no matter how big the distance between the two of you grew.

Even after discharge, Mingyu stayed with you. He kept reassuring you that if you wanted to cry, you could, and that he would be there for you, but you didn't have it in you to cry. You were mindless from the moment he told you, and you remained mindless as you tried to find normalcy in your life once more. You were so mindless, in fact, that you expected Mingyu to just up and leave after knowing you could feed yourself, but he didn't. He stayed with you for a while— until he found out the truth.

You and Mingyu were in the kitchen one evening. You were cleaning, and Mingyu, who originally entered the kitchen to rifle through the pantry, held the handle to the pantry door before sighing and facing you.

"Hey," Mingyu broke the silence. "Can I ask you something?"

You nodded while mindlessly wiping down the kitchen countertop.

"Who was the father...?"

You froze. You knew he was going to ask that at some point, but you thought he would give you a little more than several days to prepare for it. You set the towel aside and looked at him. You wanted to tell him, but the words were stuck in the back of your throat.

Mingyu saw the look on your face and immediately looked away uncomfortably. He ran his hand over his face and took a heavy breath.

"...Tell me something," his voice came out rough, as if he was choking back a sob.

You waited for him to say something, but he just looked at you instead. You nodded and whispered, "Yeah?"

"In the time we haven't seen each other..." he started slowly. "Have you slept with anyone else?"

You shook your head. You wanted to confirm verbally, but there was no way you were going to— not when you felt your chest tighten up uncomfortably.

"So..."

Mingyu definitely choked on his words that time. He chewed on his lower lip nervously. He covered his mouth with his hand and sighed slowly, shakily. The room was heavy, and both of you knew exactly what this awkwardness meant, but you were waiting for the other one to say the words. Unable to take the tension any longer, you spoke.

"It was you..."

Mingyu pressed his lips together in a tight line. He took a step towards the kitchen island and grabbed the edge as if to steady himself. You watched his knuckles turn white the longer he gripped it. He looked down at the countertop before looking right at you, his eyes red and watery.

"Me?"

You were near tears. You blinked them away quickly while sniffling and nodding. You knew what was coming. You knew he was going to be upset, and you needed him to know why you did what you did, and there was no way that was going to happen if you got emotional.

"So, let me get this straight. You were pregnant, and I was the father?"

You nearly flinched when you heard his voice get louder.

"Yes," you confirmed before choosing your next words very carefully. "I was pregnant, and you were the person who got me pregnant."

You definitely flinched when Mingyu slammed his hands down on the countertop. He was shaking, and his face was twisted painfully as the realization finally completely hit him.

"You— You were pregnant— You were pregnant with my child?!" Mingyu yelled; he was in complete and utter disbelief to the point where he was tripping over his words. "Did— You— You didn't think to tell me?!"

"I didn't know how you were going to respond, Mingyu! We're not married, we're not engaged— I'm just some girl you knocked up, and I didn't want you to feel the need to marry me just because I was pregnant!"

"So, what, you were just going to have the kid without telling me?! You were going to let me go blissfully unaware that someone who shares half of my DNA is just walking around without even knowing who their biological father is?!"

"Does it even matter?!" you shrieked.

The two of you fell silent. The weight of the matter hit you like a ton of brick, and the room got more stuffy by the second. You ran your shaking fingers through your hair and exhaled slowly, your heart clenching as you thought about everything that led to that moment. You closed your eyes and massaged your temples as you did your best to hold your tears back.

"It doesn't even matter anymore," you sighed, your voice shaky as you spoke quietly.

You could tell Mingyu wanted to comfort you. His hand reached out hesitantly before falling at his side. You faced him and locked eyes with him. His eyes weren't sparkling the way they used to whenever he saw you. They were bleak, sorrowful, resentful. You knew he resented you for not telling him about your unplanned pregnancy and that he found out because of the hospital.

"You know," Mingyu started, his voice choked back by a sob. "You could at least..."

He shook his head. He wasn't going to say it, and as much as you wanted to demand that he say it, you didn't need him to.

You could at least apologize for not telling me in the first place.

And you did want to apologize, but the words got stuck in the back of your throat because you were just as hurt by him as he was by you. Plus, he wasn't the one who had to bear the weight of losing a child— you were.

Neither of you uttered a word after that. Mingyu wordlessly left your apartment, and you remained in your kitchen this time actually completely alone.

Years later, you still carried the resentment against him. You couldn't figure out why either. Maybe it was the fact that he seemed to have moved on with his life and that you were still stuck in the past. Maybe it was because he never tried to find you to comfort you. Maybe it was because you wish he fought for you to stay with him.

You stared aimlessly at the sunset before you, your arms crossed over your chest as the yellow and orange hues grayed out in your glazed view. The waves were calmly patting the large rocks, and the wind was sweeping by you warmly, but you felt anxious and cold. You ran your shaking fingers through your hair and took a shuddering breath as you tried your best to appreciate the sky's canvas through your teary eyes.

"Hey there..." you heard a familiar voice over the sound of the ocean waves.

A tear immediately slipped out of your eye. You refused to turn, you refused to look— you didn't need to see who it was.

"What're you doing alone on a beach like this?" he continued.

Your heart clenched. It was like the first time the two of you met all over again, but you were anything but happy. You shook your head and looked away. Honestly, you wanted to run away, but your feet refused to carry you, your toes sinking deeper into the soft sand.

"Come on... Please look at me..."

The catch his throat stabbed at your heart several times. You bit your lower lip and tried your best to keep it together as you turned to look at him, but all of that effort was in vain.

It was the first time in years that you saw him, and dare you say it, he looked even more stunning as a slightly older man. His muscles had gotten more refined, and his facial features had gotten sharper. The biggest change, however, was his eyes. They weren't sparkling at all anymore, but there was something else there— something you couldn't quite place. It was unfamiliar, but in the same breath, recognizable.

"Mingyu..." you breathed out unintentionally, your voice trembling. "What are you doing here?

He took a single step towards you. You were still frozen in place, so he kept approaching despite you wanting him to stay as far away from you as possible.

"I... I miss you... And I want to—" Mingyu stopped himself the second he saw you shaking your head.

"Please don't, Mingyu," you whispered.

A warm ocean breeze swept past your ankles and through your hair as silence filled the space between you. You turned away from him and looked at the ocean again, Mingyu continuing to stare at you. You wiped the lingering tears by your eyes away before crossing your arms over your chest again. Even after everything, you still refused to cry, especially in front of him. Yet, when Mingyu approached you tentatively and carefully wrapped his arms around you, you broke. You let him hug you, and all of the tears you had been holding back not just then but over the last several years came pouring out.

You wanted to say something, but you couldn't. You were too busy wailing into his chest, your hands grabbing at the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him closer to you. Mingyu kept one secure hand around your waist while the other petted your head in a soothing manner.

"It's okay... Cry it all out..." Mingyu murmured, making you cry even more.

The two of you had slowly sunk down to the ground and sat on the towel under the umbrella which you had brought to the beach to sit on earlier. Mingyu refused to let you go even as your sobs died down. He rubbed your back, the feeling of his large hand on your back and the sounds from the ocean easing your pain and finally calming you down.

You sat in silence after you cried it all out. Mingyu's hold on you loosened slightly so that you could lean back and look at him, but he still didn't let go of you— there was no way in hell he was going to let go of you now.

"How are you feeling?" Mingyu asked in a hushed voice.

"A little better..." you couldn't help but admit— the lack of bottled up emotions in your chest did make it easier for you to breathe.

You looked up at him. This time, when you gazed into his eyes, you were able to figure out exactly what it was in his eyes: hope. You felt the emotion swell up in your chest again, but instead of crying, you took a deep breath and relaxed a little more in his arms.

"Why did you..." you sighed as you trailed off, trying to figure out exactly how you wanted to say this. "You're here because...?"

"Because I miss you," Mingyu said, reiterating what he was saying earlier. "I miss you so much..."

"...Why did you come here, then? How'd you know you'd find me here...?"

"I didn't, actually. I was thinking about going to your apartment, but I didn't know if you still lived there, and when I turned around to go home... I saw you standing here..."

"I actually still live at the same place," you couldn't help but chuckle dryly. "You'd think I would have moved after all this time... But I couldn't bring myself to do it..."

"Why is that?"

"Because... Even after everything... I never wanted to— I could never get over you... I really missed you too, Mingyu..."

Mingyu cupped your face after you stopped talking. He tilted your head up, and you saw his lower lip quiver. He took a breath as if he was about to say something, but he immediately closed his mouth. He didn't need to say it— you knew what he wanted to say.

"Then why did we wait so long to find each other again?"

You knew what kept you from reaching out, but you weren't sure how Mingyu was going to respond, nor were you sure you wanted to know the answer. However, enough was enough, and you needed answers.

"Can I ask you something?" you asked, your voice hushed.

"Yeah, of course," he nodded. "You can ask me anything."

You swallowed nervously. You were still unsure of how to broach the subject, so you just decided to be candid and let your ears get as hot as they wanted as embarrassment took control of your brain.

"What about that other girl?"

"What other girl?" Mingyu asked, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Back then... You were talking and laughing with another girl..."

Mingyu just looked even more confused. Taking a deep breath, you finally laid it all out.

"We didn't... We didn't really talk about what our relationship was back then... So when I saw you with another girl, I assumed it was because you had your options open," you explained slowly. "And since we weren't officially dating or together or anything, I didn't want to ask you about it because you were free to see other people..."

Your gaze slowly lowered as you explained your train of thought, so when you finished, you looked up again to see a wide array of emotions painted on Mingyu's face. He closed his eyes and sat silently for a moment, and you waited for him to gather his own thoughts before responding. Finally, he reopened his eyes, and for the first time in a while, you saw that sparkle you were hopelessly infatuated with return to his eyes.

"Sweetheart, there's never been anyone else," Mingyu said softly as he reached for and held your hand. "I've only ever had eyes for you, and I have not stopped thinking about you..."

You felt your eyes well up with tears. There were so many thoughts swirling around your head, most of them being regret that you didn't talk this through with Mingyu in the beginning; but he made all of the negative thoughts leave your mind the second he cupped your face and met your gaze.

"I only want to be with you."

A tear slipped out of your eye, the man immediately brushing it away. You pushed yourself into his arms and hugged him tightly while sobbing, Mingyu immediately hugging back and petting your head to soothe you. He whispered reassuring words to you while resting his chin on the top of your head, and he let you cry it all out. His white shirt soaked up all of your tears as you buried your face in his chest.

"I'm sorry, Mingyu... I'm so sorry..."

"It's okay... Don't think about it now," he said softly. "Let's not dwell on the past... Let's focus on now..."

You shook your head, prompting him to counter your apology.

"If anything, I'm sorry for leaving you like that," he whispered. "I hated that I wasn't there for you when you needed the support... I should've been there for you."

You sniffled and moved your head back. You opened your mouth to say something, but the words were stuck in the back of your throat, choked back by a sob.

"But I'm here for you now, and I promise I'm always going to be here for you. Always."

With that, Mingyu pressed his lips against yours tenderly, your heart swelling with a multitude of emotions. You kissed him back softly, slowly, conveying all of your unspoken feelings to him.

The sun was long gone by that point, and the stars were out as you and Mingyu found yourselves entangled with each other. Mingyu's hands roamed all of your body. The warmth of his touch lingered on every spot of skin his fingers brushed as he took in every last bit of you. His kisses started sweet but slowly got more hungry and desperate as every single cell of his body craved you— after all, it had been years.

If the two of you hadn't been hidden to the world under an umbrella and behind a strip of large rocks, you wouldn't have been okay with Mingyu taking things further with you. He slid your dress up as he trailed kisses from your ankle up your leg and to your knee. Your dress rested on your stomach, and he turned you to the side before lying down alongside you, his hand bringing your thigh up and over his legs. He placed his hand under your head as a makeshift pillow, and you immediately nuzzled your face into his hand, making his breathing hitch slightly.

The two of you were silent, and you let the sound of the waves lapping fill the void the more intimate you got. Mingyu pulled his cock out of his shorts and started to rub it between your legs, your body trembling with want, desire, and a little fear. Since it had been so long, you forgot how big he was, so when he pushed your panties to the side before slipping his cock inside you, you immediately moaned loudly. Mingyu cut off your moan with a kiss, his tongue keeping yours occupied as he bottomed out.

You moaned into Mingyu's mouth as he began to move, his waist softly slapping against yours. You felt like your cunt was going to tear apart with his size, and as much as it hurt, it also felt so good that you desperately needed him to keep going.

"You doing okay, sweetheart?" he moved his lips to your ear and asked, his voice low and raspy.

You hummed and nodded, the pleasure starting to overwhelm you. The pleasure only continued to build when he started bucking his hips upwards rashly, your whole body lurching. You cried softly and pushed yourself closer to him. You were so close, but you needed just a little bit more.

Mingyu's hand slipped under your dress, his large hand palming your breast. You sighed and moaned the stronger his grip on you got and the more rash his thrusts got. Finally, he thrust into you with enough force that his cock hit your cervix multiple times, the pleasure surging through you like anything. You buried your face into the nook of his neck and groaned as quietly as you could as your orgasm washed over you. Your cunt clenched, and your toes curled. You had been holding onto Mingyu's forearms, and when you came, you dug your nails into them, leaving deep crescents in his arms.

"Fu-uck," Mingyu groaned when he felt you tighten around him.

You truly thought that Mingyu was close when you heard him curse, his sexy, rumbling voice making you tingle with excitement again. However, he apparently was far from done. He moved his hand from your head to your ass, and cupping the underside of your ass, he turned you so that you were on top of him. He pulled you down so that your chest was pressed against his before moving his hands back to your ass. He guided you as your ass bounced on his hips, the new angle making pleasure surge through you once more and your eyes fill with tears.

"I'm— Hnngh— I'm gonna cum inside, okay, sweetheart?" Mingyu whispered, his breathing getting shallower by the second.

Your heart couldn't help but thud wildly against your chest. You whispered, "Please, Mingyu. I'm all yours... I'll always be yours...."

Mingyu's eyes widened slightly before a gentle smile appeared on his face. He ran his fingers through the hair on the back of your head and brought you down to kiss you passionately. When the kiss ended, he let you go to turn you to your side. He buried his face into the nook of your neck and sighed deeply before fucking you as quickly as he could.

Right before he came, a groan rumbled in the back of his throat. He moved his head to your shoulder, his canines digging into your skin as he bit your shoulder lightly. You felt his hot cum fill you up and his dick continue to throb and spasm as he moved a little more to get the rest of his load out. The two of you sighed softly, blissfully, peacefully as you fully relaxed.

The stars were out as you laid in Mingyu's arms, your eyes closed, your breathing peaceful. The sound of the soft ocean waves rushing onto the sand made you stir. Your eyes fluttered open to see Mingyu staring at the lonely sky above you. You moved away from his chest slightly to get a better look at him, the man immediately shifting his gaze to you. He smiled as you blinked at him. His eyes were sparkling once again, and dare you say it, they sparkled brighter than the stars in the sky. You felt tears well up in your eyes again, and Mingyu wiped them away before they could stain your cheeks. Hushing you softly, he hugged you gently and held you close.

You still hated the ocean. You still hated the beach. You still hated the salty sea breeze that would hit your nose and last all day long in your hair and on your skin, but you welcomed the memories. You welcomed the memories, and you once again loved the man that brought the memories.

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allgoodnamesrgoneee · 2 months

Text

I have a couple requests that I'm currently writing right now so while you guys wait, here's a little something to snack on. Enjoy😉

What's For Dinner

Masterlist

𝒔𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚 — Jude come home and fucks you in the kitchen

𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 — Jude Bellingham x you

𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 — 2.9k

Warnings! NSFW! SMUT (18+), unprotected vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), rough sex, the slightest pussy slap, kitchen sex, multiple orgasms, dom!Jude, sub!reader.

"Fuck, baby" Jude pants right into your pussy making you whimper. "Am I making you feel good?."

You nod. Not that he could see from where he had his face buried in your cunt.

You're sprawled, spread out on the kitchen counter like a decadent meal as your boyfriend ate you out. His tongue flickered in and out of your folds opening you up.

When you don't answer him, he slows down his movements making you whine in need. He lifts his head to look at you through hooded eyes and gently smacks his palm down on your clit.

"Answer me," he warns, his hand snaking up to squeeze your breast through your(his) shirt. His other hand slowly dips into your heat. You can't help the moan that escapes from your lips. His tongue licks at his lips which are shiny from your juices as he watches your face. "Tell me you like it." He whispers seductively as he rubs your swollen nub.

You can't help the way your back arches off the counter as he slips one then two fingers in your hole. "I like it," You gasp out. "Please, Jude, please don't stop." You beg him.

He gives you a devilish smirk as he bends down takes your clit in his mouth sucking hard and bites down softly. You nearly come undone right there.

It was Saturday night and you were supposed to be making dinner. Jude had just come home from a long day of training. All he wanted was to go home, eat and cuddle with his girl.

But you had to fuck him up.

There you were standing in front of the stove, hips swaying to the song you had playing on the speaker. Not noticing his tall figure behind you completely unaware. Torturously reminding him of the heaven between your legs. Taunting him with the tight wet heat it promised.

He felt himself grow hard at the thought of it. At the thought of wrecking you on that kitchen counter. His dick was already aching and weeping at the chance to be inside of you.

You were sautéing the vegetables when you felt strong arms wrap around your waist from behind. The familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you, a blend of cedarwood and vanilla that always brought a smile to your lips.

His breath was warm against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine despite the heat radiating from the stove.

"Smells amazing," he rasped, pressing his hips into your back allowing you to feel his already growing bulge. You jump at his touch not hearing him come in but then relaxed in his hold.

"Jude!" you laughed, turning around to face him. His dark eyes sparkled with mischief, and his grin was impossibly charming, the kind that could melt even the sternest resolve. "You scared me," you scolded lightly, though the warmth in your voice betrayed any real annoyance.

"Did I?" he murmurs, his lips brushing lightly against your ear. The sensation sends another shiver through you, and you feel a warmth pooling in your panties.

You tilt your head slightly, giving him better access, and he takes the invitation gladly. His kisses trail from your ear down to the curve of your neck, each one making it harder to concentrate on the task at hand.

His fingers danced along your waist, tracing the curve of your hip before sliding up under your shirt to rest on your stomach. "What are you making?" he asks, his voice low and husky, sending another wave of warmth through you that had nothing to do with the cooking.

You turned slightly, catching a glimpse of his face out of the corner of your eye. The way his dark eyes glimmered with affection made your heart skip a beat. "your favorite," His hands moved higher, gently grazing your ribs, causing you to squirm.

"Yeah? This all for me?" His breath is warm against your neck, lips grazing your neck.

It wasn't long until he had you on the counter feasting on your pussy instead. Slurping up your juices and reducing you to a sobbing mess. Desecrating your kitchen, your eating place with your wet warm slick. Something that would disgust a decent person but just turned him on and spurred him to dig deeper with his tongue.

This was all your fault really. How could he resist you, in the kitchen covered in hickeys, the ones he had left on you this morning, wearing only his shirt and your panties.

His chest swelled with pride knowing that he was the one who had done this to you. His sweet innocent girlfriend. He loved ruining you for anyone else. Loved the fact that he was the only one to have. To see you like this.

Jude fucking loved it.

Seeing the evidence of his work on display on your soft squishy body drivng him crazy since he walked through the door, until he couldn't take it anymore.

He had to have you. Wanted to take you again immediately but no. Not right now.

Right now he was going to finish his meal first.

So here you were, legs spread on the kitchen counter as you rode his face letting out the sweetest noises and singing his praises. Letting him defile you with his deft and sinful tongue. You moaned, a broken desperate sound grinding your hips against his mouth seeking more pleasure.

Jude lapped up your juices eagerly, his hands gripping your ass to keep you in place as he feasted on your cunt. "Oh God," You gasp out. "Oh fuck." You groan louder, "Jude." The way your voice trembles made him groan in pleasure, his cock twitching with the need to get inside of you. His thumb found its way back to your clit circling it over and over again.

"Baby, baby, baby." You chant out, your hands tangling in his coily hair. Your hips moving on their own accord riding his tongue like the best ride in the world. He hums into your cunt and your vision goes blurry as pleasure shoots through you, your orgasm making you feel weightless. You feel yourself fall but Jude holds you tight keeping you close.

"Good girl," he praises you as you come down from your high. He lifts his head to look at you with a satisfied smile on his lips. He knew he could make you feel good. He knew what you needed.

Jude smirks at you, his eyes glinting in the kitchen lighting. Your juices glistened on his chin and he licked it off without missing a beat, savoring your taste. His fingers left you with a satisfied pop, and he wipes them clean on his shorts.

God, you wanted him so bad. Deep inside you.

And he was more than happy to oblige straightening himself and pulling out his dick.

Jude stroked himself a few times slicking his member up with your slick. His dick was aching having been neglected for the whole day. It was hard as a rock with a bead of pre-cum forming at the tip. He rubbed it in, coating the head in your cum.

He leaned over to you, your legs still open and wrapped around him, pulling you closer to him. His eyes looked deep into yours as he positioned himself at your entrance. He grinned, the smile on his face making you melt into a puddle.

"I can't wait to fuck this pussy." He says, rubbing his tip on your clit. Gathering some of your wetness on last time before slowly pushing in. Jude moaned as he slid in, inch by delicious inch.

You cry out in shock, your body stretching to accommodate his size. Your cunt is dripping and ready for him and he slides in easily. You're so fucking wet for him.

You arch your back into his touch. "Yes, Jude. Please." You beg him as you grip his shoulders tightly. Your nails digging into his skin as you cling to him.

It took all his concentration and willpower not to cum right then and there. He took a moment to let you both get used to the stretch before carefully pulling out till only the tip remained before slamming back inside.

"Oh fuck baby! You're so tight, so warm. So wet." His voice was full of awe. "You're so fucking perfect." He praised as he continued to move. His movements slow and languid, savoring the feel of your tight walls around him. The way he had you pinned between the counter and his body. The way he could control your pleasure.

He sped up his thrusts, hitting all the right spots as he fucked you senseless. Your moans were music to his ears and he revelled in it. He grunted with every thrust, pushing deeper inside of you. His breathing was heavy as he fucked you into the counter. The sounds of skin slapping and your moans filled the air.

He took you like that on the kitchen counter. Taking you with rough, hard thrusts until he had you screaming for him, until your screams echoed through the house. Your fingers digging into his back as your legs wrapped around him, pulling him closer to you.

You made all sorts of sweet noises, moaning your ass off not worried about being heard. Jude thrilled at that. Hearing you let loose without a care in the world and his chest swelled with delight.

He drilled your sweet hole, slowing down his thrusts to grind your walls before changing the pace up again and pounding you hard. It drove you crazy and he loved seeing his girl going wild with pleasure like this especially when it added to his as well.

"Baby," he panted. "Tell me how how much you love my cock!"

You tried to answer but your words kept getting interrupted by his fierce thrusts. "Ju-Jude! I love-love it!"

Jude moaned and bent down to kiss your pretty little mouth luxuriating in their softness and the beautiful sounds that spilled from them.

You were so fucking sexy.

The love of his life, lying beneath him all soft and pliant, all for him. All his. So sinfully sweet and deplorably thirsty for his dick. Canting your hips so he slipped deeper inside you and begging both with your body and mouth for more.

More of him. For him to bury deeper inside and burst you full with his cum. How could he ever get enough of you when you acted like this every time you had sex. How could he ever resist your temptations when you looked this beautiful spread out beneath him.

No wonder he hadn't stopped fucking you ever since your first time.

He fucked you so good. Fucking your tight cunt, taking you like an animal in heat. He fucked you so hard you could feel him in your stomach, your soul. You're so fucking full of him. His cock was so hard and hot inside you, filling you up.

He was fucking you like a whore, using your body for his pleasure. And you loved every moment of it. Every second he had your legs up, pounding your pussy. You're a mess, completely ruined.

"I'm gonna cum, Jude. I'm cumming." You gasp out, your hands running down his back, nails digging into his skin, leaving your mark. Jude groaned, his movements becoming more frantic as you tightened around his cock, your orgasm starting to wash over you.

"Fuck! Baby!" Jude cursed as your pussy clenched around him. Your muscles contracting around his dick, milking him for everything he had. The sensation was so strong it nearly knocked him over the edge.

You moaned out in pleasure, your body limp as you rode your orgasm out. Your body shuddering with pleasure, your pussy twitching around him. Jude looked at you in awe.

God he loved you so much. He loved the way your body responded to him. The way you were putty in his hands, giving him the power to bring you to heights of pleasure. The way you clung to him as your body shook with ecstasy.

"Shit baby," He grunts out, his movements becoming jerky. "You're making me cum." He groans as his orgasm builds up in him. His hands are holding your ass tighter, pulling you closer to him. The way he had you pinned against the counter made it impossible for you to move.

He was deep inside you, his balls slapping against your ass. His eyes never left yours as he fucked you through his orgasm. His breathing heavy, his mouth hanging open. Your pussy twitched around his dick milking him of all his cum. He shuddered in your hold.

"Ah fuck, sweetheart. You're so good." His voice was rough from his climax. His thrusts slow down as he empties his seed deep inside of you. You moaned out in pleasure at the feeling of his hot cum filling you up.

"Jude." You whimpered as you felt yourself getting filled with his seed. He was so hot, so thick and it felt like it was going to spill out of you any moment. His dick twitched inside you, his cock still hard and full even after emptying himself inside of you.

He was still rock-hard and still pumping away at your pussy. Your head fell back and you arched your back into his touch, pushing your breasts closer to him. He obliged, taking a nipple in his mouth sucking gently.

"Jude!" You gasp out. "It feels too good." You mewl, trying to push him away but he's too strong. His hands grip you tight. "Too sensitive." You whine. "Stop! Please."

"You can't take it?" He whispers, licking his lips. "You can't take my big dick, baby?" His voice is low and husky.

You can feel his dick twitch inside you at his words. Your pussy spasms in response to his taunts and he grunts out in pleasure.

Jude thrusts a few more times, his movements becoming languid before slowly pulling out of you. You whimper as his dick slides out of you, his seed following suit. He pulls back to look at you. Your legs still open for him. Your cunt on full display. A mess of our juices mixed together.

You looked beautiful like this. Spread out on the counter, a mess from his lovemaking. His eyes travel down to your pussy, taking in the sight of his cum leaking out of your hole. Your pussy was stretched out and red from his pounding. He grins at the sight.

"Fuck," he whispers, his voice full of awe. "Look at that." You follow his gaze to your cunt. It's still dripping from your orgasm. Jude pulls you closer, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He held you as you both come down and you wrap your arms around him happy to be held.

Once he calmed down he kissed you deeply and passionately and you responded just as eagerly. You kind of stay there making out lazily for awhile before you remembered about dinner.

Placing one more soft peck on your lips, Jude set you down, grinning as you wobble on your feet. "What a welcome," he laughs as he takes you in his arms, nuzzling your neck. "I think I'm going to like coming home more often." You slap him on the chest laughing at his antics and he gives you a goofy grin before kissing you again.

The kitchen smelled like sex. You were covered in sweat and cum. Your thighs sticky from his release. You're sore but you can't help but feel satisfied. It's been a while since he's taken you this rough, this wild. You missed it.

"Are you okay? Was I too rough?" Jude asks, his expression turning serious.

You shake your head. "No. It was perfect." You assure him, smiling softly.

He gives you a sheepish grin, his eyes sparkling with warmth. "Good." He kisses you once more.

You sigh happily, content. "I love you," you whisper as he continues to pepper kisses on your neck.

"I love you too, sweetheart," he responds, his voice low and husky. "Now come on." He laughs as he lets you go. "Let's get you cleaned up?" In one swift movement you were back in his arms, bridal style. "And then I'll finish dinner."

You squeal as you're picked up. "I'm supposed to cook tonight, babe!" You laugh.

"Ah, but you were otherwise occupied," Jude retorts. "Besides, I want to take care of you tonight." You melt at his words. How could you resist him? "Plus you deserve a break." He says as he heads out the door. "You've had a long day too." He smirks at the last words, remebering this morning and what you just did.

You laugh, hitting him on the chest. "Stop it." You're blushing, burying your head into his neck.

"How did I get so lucky?" He asks, his voice filled with reverence above you

You smile agaisnt his skin. "You didn't." Your words come out slightly muffled, placing a soft kiss on his neck. "I'm the lucky one." And you were lucky to have him. Lucky to be loved and cherished by him. He was the best boyfriend in the world. And you were going to make sure he knows it.

"I'm not complaining," Jude smirks at you before giving you a quick peck on the lips. "Alright, let's get you cleaned up." He bounces you up a bit in his arms making you squeal with laughter. Melting his heart. "Or else we'll be having takeout for dinner." He smiles down at you one last time before bolting upstairs.

-Bianca🌻

#footballer x reader #football #jude x you #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham #jb5 #bellingham

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emmyrosee · 11 months

Text

Geto doesn’t know how to respond to pet names.

It took him a long enough time to become used to the traditional “baby” and “love,” it was just recently when you started busting out these absurd nicknames for whatever thing you could be subjecting him too.

You were cooking once, and you called him “scnhookums” and asked him to pass the peppers. He dropped the tray.

Driving, you told your “stinky man” to take a left. He slammed on his brakes.

You’d been painting his nails and got some on his cuticle, and you asked your “little poop” to pass you some acetone. He just took his hands away.

It’s not that he doesn’t… like them, they’re just not quite what he expects. They’re so extreme, so left field that in a way, he feels as if you’re mocking him, making fun of him.

He doesn’t like that feeling.

But what he hates even more, is when you pause on giving him disgustingly sweet pet names. This, makes him feel like you no longer care, no longer wanting to take the time to come up with the gushy names that keep him in a shy state.

And you haven’t given him one in days.

He hasn’t been able to sleep. Nothing major, nightmares plaguing the dreams he thinks should be pleasant,

“Shhh,” you soothe. “Stay asleep. I’ve got you.”

He merely nods and lets his head bury back into the pillows, your lips press against his temple before he lets his breathing even out once again.

As if your kiss soothed the monsters that dance, he’s able to sleep a few more hours, waking up disgustingly late and pouting to find your side of the bed cold.

He’s not proud of the pout okay, you’re just really good at scratching the affectionate itch that digs his brain. all he wants is his ‘pooky bear’ to cuddle their little ‘chickadee’ and let him fall back asleep in their arms.

He’s sure those names aren’t far in your arsenal of names.

When he finally does come to search you out, he’s not completely surprised to see you, stretched out on the couch and in a state of relaxation he finds envy in.

“What’re you watching?” He asks, shuffling into the living room. You smile up at him and say nothing, but instead pat your lap as an invitation for him to come and curl against you.

With a nod, he does just that, letting himself lay down on the couch with you, his head nestled in your thighs. Your fingers instantly start their magic on carding his loose hair, and his eyes slack slightly at the tingly feeling.

“Feel better?” You ask, and he hums contently. “I told you more sleep would help. You just never listen to me.”

He says nothing, merely letting his fingers gently trace the lines on your kneecap.

There’s a whirl of silence in the room, and he feels his eyes grow tired from your loving touch, the post warmth of his shower, and the cat that’s curled on his feet, keeping them warm under her rhythmic breathing.

“My handsome man,” you mumble, bending down to plant a kiss at his temple. his eyes widen as he cranes his head up to look at you, curved in surprise and a glimmer of love in his dark pools. “So pretty it hurts… my handsome, pretty man.”

That. That, he could get used to.

He smiles dopily and turns his head to nuzzle into your thigh, trying to hide the heating of his cheeks from you and your potential teasing by keeping his face buried.

But you don’t pick on him. Instead, you click your tongue adoringly and press another kiss to his temple. He feels your nose taking deep breaths of his scent, and your thumb strokes his cheek lovingly.

“Shut up”, Suguru says happily, as an acceptance, letting his sleepy eyes close and allowing your affections to swallow him whole.

Yes, he thinks to himself. It’s the fluttery feeling everyone talks about. The air filling his lungs and his head skipping beats just by the tone of which you call him handsome.

You call him your man.

Maybe pet names don’t always have to be sticky and sweet; but it just makes the most meaningful ones penetrate his heart that much more.

And this pet name, he hopes you decide to keep.

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targaryen-dynasty · 4 months

Text

NOCTURNAL WORSHIP.

Daemon Targaryen x niece!Reader

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MDNI; dub/non-con, somnophilia, canon typical incest/targcest (uncle/niece), p in v, fingering, possessive and dark (or rather canon) Daemon

WORDS: 1.2 K

NOTES: Something older I had posted with another blog.

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

A deep slumber has overtaken you after a day full of lessons in the tongue of your ancestors, and an hours long flight on the back of your precious mount. Deep enough that not even the creaking door leading to one of the secret passageways of Maegor‘s Holdfast is able to get you to stir awake.

Not quite so stealthy as one might know him, the man they dub the Rogue Prince steps into your chambers, his heart beating fast with the blood pumping straight down to his cock upon spotting you laying on your side, sound asleep despite his intrusion.

It’s almost ridiculous how hard his cock gets the closer he stalks towards your canopy bed, straining uncomfortably against the laces in the front of his breeches. “Ñuha dōna lēkianna,“ he drawls with a strain to his voice, the predatory gaze of his lilac eyes taking in your sleeping frame. My sweet niece.

A devilish smirk that’s usually only reserved to the people that dare to challenge him is draped across his lips, growing as he slowly peels the Quartheen silk sheets off your body. Only a fool would miss the fact that you’re not wearing any undergarments beneath the rather flimsy, creamish nightgown you wear, clearly indicating that you have listened to your uncle prior to your departure to your quarters.

‘Expect me at the Hour of the Owl, sweet girl,’ he had said to you as your lesson ended. ‘And I shall teach you what is expected of you on your wedding night.’ And the sheepish nod and the blush on your cheeks let him know you truly endorsed it.

Daemon sits down on the bed next to you and brushes his fingers over your skin, starting at your knee to push the nightgown up and reveal your bare cunt, glistening with your arousal for the long-awaited. His deft fingers drag through your folds, circling your sensitive pearl.

A quiet sound slips past your slightly parted lips, resembling something between a moan and a whimper, and in your sleepy state he finds you snuggling against him to inhale his comforting scent, your hand resting on his stomach and your face buried in his side.

His fingers toy with your pearl briefly before he gently nudges you over to lie on your back, parting your legs to grant him better access to what lies between them. Ghosting the tips of his fingers along your navel, he trails them down again to ease them inside your cunt, pushing in and out to prepare your maiden core for him.

The thread of restraint he’s held before grows thinner and thinner with your walls starting to clench steadily around his digits, practically sucking them in and begging for more. And when he feels your small hand fisting his tunic, pulling him closer with your hips rutting meekly against his hand? That’s the moment it snaps.

Withdrawing his fingers from your cunt, he brings them up to his lips, sucking them clean of your essence. Any rational thought is quit with the taste of your arousal spreading over his tongue, making him long for more.

He climbs between your legs, sitting back on his haunches as he undoes his breeches and frees his cock from its confines. There’s not a second wasted by him, burying himself inside of you with such urgency in one, swift thrust.

All efforts not to wake you up are fruitless as he increases the pace of his thrusts, snapping his hips in and out of you over and over again, not able to hold back any longer.

The hazy glimmer in your eyes as you blink up at him indicates that you have a hard time processing what is happening, although your body perfectly knows with quiet moans and whimpers toppling past your parted lips.

“K… Kepus?” you mumble, having trouble speaking with the burning of your cunt struggling to accommodate his size clouding your thoughts. You blink once, twice, to allow your eyes to adjust to the dim light the moon casts through your chambers windows.

Daemon doesn’t stop his ministrations, if anything, your dazed reaction only manages to spur him on, feeding the fire that courses through his veins. He dips down, pressing his chest flush to yours and putting his weight onto you, caging you in between his arms with no way to escape.

Your uncle rests his forehead against yours, stopping his movements briefly. “I told you I would come, didn't I?”

Biting your bottom lip, you momentarily close your eyes at the proximity. Opening them again, you nod your head and stare up at him with a wide, innocent gaze. “Y… Yes.”

“And you want to learn from me, do you not?” It isn’t a question, more a coercion for you to give him what he wants. “About the… wifely duties you must perform for your future husband.”

You nod again, speaking in feigned confidence, “yes.”

His words are very much that of truth. More than once have you thought about him in ways that are not proper for the youngest daughter of the King, especially after your older sister has told you about the little foray she and your uncle went on that ended in one of the brothels of the city.

Daemon starts to grind his hips against yours, causing the pressure inside of you to become more and more notable — until your peak catches you in an ambush.

Your body acts on its own as you arch your back against his sturdy frame, parting your legs just a bit more to willingly rut your hips in rhythm with his, chasing the pleasure.

Not one coherent thought runs through your head as your body works itself through the several emotions and trembles that soar through you, suddenly not so tired anymore.

You‘re not so sure what to expect as he proclaims his desire to spill inside of you, yet you eagerly accept, damned be the repercussions, and bite through the overstimulation to chase the addictive feeling of his throbbing cock.

Tipping his head back, your uncle releases a groan so raspy the bump in his throat twitches, the sight causing a renewed wave of your arousal to drip down his shaft, forming a creamy ring around the base.

Only once the thrusting of his hips ceases, you‘re able to feel the flimsy pulsating of his cock, spending itself inside of you.

“That’s it–” His words catch in his throat as his head topples forwards.

Meeting your gaze, he gets so lost in the blissed out expression on your face that he knows there is no going back now — not when he just got a taste of you, his darling niece.

He presses a kiss to your temple as he pulls out, the uncomfortable feeling of loss causing you both to grimace. Climbing off the bed to readjust his trousers, he can‘t seem to take his eyes off of you.

“I expect you, tomorrow night, to come to my chambers,” he states bluntly and nonchalantly, walking towards the door he came through before. “Your husband will not be gentle on the first night of your marriage, lēkianna, and I think it is only fair that I teach you a few more things. So when the time comes, you‘re well prepared.”

With these words, he closes the secret door behind him, leaving you all by yourself. Where you have been in a very deep slumber before, you struggle to fall back asleep again, mind plagued by what tomorrow will bring for you.

Daemon Taglist: @hypocritic-trash-baby @schniiipsel @avalyaaa @baizzhu @yn-jackson

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 1 year

Text

thinking of miguel kneeling on the floor as he eats you out:

(18+ mdni, fem!reader)

☆ had this idea last night and just HAD to write about it

- filthy drabble below cut -

miguel would kneel on the ground between your thighs with his face buried in your cunt, his tongue laid flat over your pretty pussy, lapping your folds as he gazes up into your lust-filled eyes. there's no other person he'd kneel for than you, no one else he'd worship or cherish.

his large hands would be firm as they rested upon your hips, keeping you sturdy as he worked over you with the point of his tongue, caressing your sweet cunt in the way he knew you needed. you’d look down at him with puffy swollen lips, an eager glimmer in your eye as you watched him eat you out, studying the way his mouth moved so effortlessly over you. his gluttonous groans would hum against your folds as his hands graze down to your ass. his fingers would squeeze and knead into the soft doughy flesh of your cheeks as he pushed your cunt further into his face.

he’d hike your leg over his shoulder, holding your thighs and waist to balance you- keeping you stable as he laps over you, muffling into your pussy about how good you taste.

your pretty desperate little cries into the air would only egg him on more, and your grip on his roots would tighten. your breathing would grow strained and strangled, and it would all feed into his ego. he loved to make you feel good, but he loved it even more when he could see just how good he made you feel.

he'd nuzzle his face further into you, gripping your hips and thighs tighter when he felt your leg shake, holding you balanced to stop your body giving up from under you.

he’d barely part from you, whispering softly against your clit with a devilish look in his eye. "cum on my tongue, cariño. I want to taste you on my lips."

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

#miguel o’hara #atsv miguel #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara imagine #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel spiderverse #miguel o’hara fic #spiderman across the spiderverse #miguel o’hara fanfiction #miguel o’hara x fem!reader

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screampied · 6 months

Note

needy choso w needy reader and they’re both so disgusting for each other… 🤭

❤︎ ໋𓈒 needy choso with an even needier reader

warnings. fem! reader, unprotected, cowgirl, whiney choso, spit, praise, size kink, mdni.

the moment you walk through the door, choso immediately greets you with a hug—handsy, he was so hot, feverish. his fingers softly traced down your skin before he murmurs out a sweet needy, “…baby,” and you giggle, returning the sweet embrace. you weren’t gone that long actually, he’d always get like this. but you did miss him, for a moment you think choso’s intaking your scent with his face buried into your neck before he sighs. “i- i’ve been so lonely. i missed you,” and then he huffs, awkwardly cheesing. “oh, i mean….how was work?”

“it was okay,” you say softly, lightly pressing your chin against his chest. with arms locked around his torso, you grin. “you sound out of breath. you okay?”

“no,” he replies honestly, and he doesn’t even hesitate. not once, your eyes glimmer a bit from the reflection of the chandelier just swaying above the two of you before he pouts. “didn’t wanna call you while you were working so i had to um…substitute.”

you hum. “what did you do?”

“i— i was listening to your voice memos you send to me. you know, the ones where we—,” and he pauses. you get what he’s saying and a tiny smile creeps into your face. choso was embarrassed, heavily embarrassed. the tips of his ears burn with a scorching hot before he scowls. “i tried touching myself to your voice. couldn’t get myself to finish ‘n you’re here now so…” and he cutely grumbles out of frustration. “can i just kiss you p-please?”

“go ahead, baby.”

“thank—thank you.”

you were barely through the door when choso places his lips onto yours.

silence broke out, you briefly close your eyes, parting your lips before moaning.

handsy, the perfect word to describe him at that particular moment. his heart raced and you slip out a slight gasp once his roughly gentle hands feel towards your ass. he can’t help but give it a light squeeze. “b-baby,” he whimpers out between kisses.

it was more sloppy than anything. your nerves, it ran all through your veins as you felt tiny shivers poke all over your body. “always got me so p-pent up.”

“let me take care of it then, baby.” you murmur, and he’s the one to moan this time, feeling your slender fingers gingerly slide near the inside of his shirt. underneath, you felt his washboard abs.

tracing your fingers alongside the very sharp edges. choso was nothing more than a perfect structured sculpture—his body, you never got tired of feeling it, feeling him.

your tongue ran against his, making him walk further and further back until eventually he gets pressed up against the door. panting, choso was nearly even more out of breath before he makes you rub against him. directly against his bulge, and you felt it, how significantly hard he was.

“i—i need you so baddd.” he whimpers, and after a while he departs his lips. a tangled string of glossy saliva tugs from his and your mouth before he laps it up, just to gift you with another wet kiss. choso leads you towards the bedroom, and by now his lips were already giving you gentle chaste kisses near your collarbone.

he doesn’t wanna waste time at all, that much was obviously apparent.

quickly, he already had you on the bed. he leans in for another kiss, this time it’s more sensual and passionate. you felt him grind against your body, hands softly parting your legs. it was cute, he was always gentle with you despite how needy he was, choso’s thumb skims near your thigh, the very inner crevices and you moan.

you tasted the faint mint on his tongue as his tongue collides against yours, incredibly sweet and oh so candied…

“t-touch me,” he whines, and you simper once you realize he’s propping you to sit right on his lap. once you’re straddling him he leans back, the cutest sheepish expression before gripping your waist. “i… i like when you touch me.”

“i know you do,” you whisper, tugging down his briefs for him. choso prepares a sharp breath, feeling the tips of your fingers lightly graze against his skin. you were slow, you made sure to be—you liked teasing him a bit after all. “you tried getting off to my voice earlier, choso? you could have just called me on my break, you know.”

he starts to pant out short heavy puffs of air. “i know,” he pouts cutely. “i was too embarrassed. even hearing your voice through an audio got me so h-hard.”

“don’t be embarrassed,” you coo, and he’s rambling so much that he doesn’t even realize you already had his black darkened briefs pulled down. you were aligning yourself, hovering over the tip of his sheeny pre-cum tip that was just as desirous as you. you were pretty soaked yourself not to mention, your arms wrap around his neck before leaning in to kiss underneath his chin. choso moans, and stops you before you could pull your panties off.

“keep…keep them on for me,” he grunts, and despite having such a low husky voice, he never refused to not sound so needy and dependent. you jerk a bit forward, complying before he gives your ass another cute squeeze, sliding your panties towards the side. “like this. just keep them over here, okay?”

you smile, kissing the tip of his nose. “okay baby.”

“hmph. s-stop calling me that,” he utters, and he lets off an angelic whine the moment you start to sink yourself further down.

after all the times you took choso, you always had to adjust to his size. he was a packer, there was no surprise there. so hefty, it took you a while to fully sink down on him, his rough hands guided your waist before he bites his lip and groans. “i didn’t mean it,” he murmurs, not fond of how you suddenly grew quiet. it was so cute. “you can keep calling me baby. i—i like it.”

you snicker, peppering a few kisses near the crook of his neck. “so indecisive,” and you playfully run a finger down the middle part of his chest. just your touch alone was enough to make him cum, you were just that good.

at least to choso—he could never control himself around you. whilst your sopping cunt glides just barely over his length, you’re nearly halfway in and choso’s a complete mess.

he looked so pretty though, up close like this. his hair, naturally darkened locks that was known for it being all tied up into two messy ponytails, now down. he looked really good with his hair down, a few strands run down near the front of his eyebrows, just about covering his droopy dark eyes before he makes eye contact with you.

“did….did you miss me too?” he breathes, hearing the brief sounds of squelching your own cunt made. so talkative—he always adored that part. going inside of you and suddenly the entire room grows quiet from the sounds of just your soft breaths and your pussy making all kinds of noise because of choso’s length.

“i missed you,” you purr as a response, bringing a kiss towards his twitching lips. his hands slither towards your hips, and he starts to rock you swiftly in place. your rhythm, it had his eyes already starting to roll into the depths of his head, all the way back before he whines. “i wish i could have came home sooner, cho.”

choso was far more vocal than you by a mile, it was heavenly to listen to—his pure sweet moans that were simply melodic.

“m-mhm,” he’d slip out, making a cute attempt to smack your ass but he quickly caresses it afterwards. he had quick a bit of thickness on him too, his girth stretches all through you that for a moment it had you speechless. “you always know how to make me feel so g-good.”

“you feel good, baby?” and your words were so enchanting, at least to him.

the sweetness that ran underneath your tone, it had him so hard. you’re grinding yourself against in such a slow yet tantalizing pace that he’s just about to lose it. your hips drove him crazy, you drove him crazy.

choso nods, a soft whimper leaving his lips the moment you find a comfortable rhythm. back and forth, the more you went forward—the more you started to feel yourself gradually quicken.

“fuck,” he pants, and his voice grows a tad bit deeper. his eyes were all dark and droopy, always having that forever drowsy timid expression. always with you. “baby, w-wait,” and your eyebrows raise a bit. you’re still riding him, keeping up a pace and that’s when he grabs your hand. you watch as he brings it towards his neck before pouting a whiney. “choke me.”

“choke you?” you titter, a near giggle sliding past your lips before he stares at you blankly, you then realized he was serious. “…oh,” you slyly say, planting a kiss near the under part of his chin. “you’re so kinky today, baby.”

“only for you.”

“yeah?” you moan yourself, feeling him bury himself balls deep—already bottoming out, you were nearly at your peek yourself. it’s probably been a few lengthy minutes before your thighs start to ache, that familiar rich sting of pleasure prickling through your skin. “mhm. i’ll choke you. only if you say pretty please.”

choso’s head goes back, and he whimpers. “you brat,” and you chortle, knowing you were getting the one up on him—he always let you anyway. at the bottom of each of choso’s sloppy thrusts, you shimmied your hips just briefly, and he swallows thickly. “ugh. f-fine,” and his spit-glossed lips part and curl up as he continues to speak. “please?”

“ooh. so close.” you tease.

“…….”

he glares but it only lasts for about three seconds because he can never be mad at you. you watch as choso’s hands roam further down your waist before he whines, correcting himself, “pretty please. choke me so i can g-get off, princess.”

“good boy.” you tease, and your fingers swiftly wrap around his neck. choso stares at you, and a sweet whimper escapes from him the moment you praise him. you knew just as much as anyone how much he loved being by praised. especially by you. the stimulation, it made him groan—he’s just jerking back against you, the bed creaks and creaks it sounds like an instrument.

“harder.” he pants, and you lean up against him. the moment the head of cock finds and securely located your g-spot though, you’re the one letting off the sweetened moans.

you inch closer towards him, squeezing his throat with just a bit more pressure before kissing him deeply. you put a bit of pressure near his pubic area before arching. milliseconds afterward, he pulls away from your lips before gasping for air. “f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum if you keep doin’ that.”

you’re squeezing down on him, clamping and just taking him in wholeheartedly. everything felt so good, choso’s ears rang, you had him whipped. he could honestly die like this, his eyelids were fluttering and half-lidded. your stare, choking him like this while riding him until he came—he couldn’t have asked for a more better position.

“open your mouth,” you whisper, a thumb fleetly brushing against the middle part of his throat.

he quickly obeys, not even asking a question. always so obediently needy. you watch as he parts his lips for you, opening his mouth. you hum, leaning in before spitting right into his mouth. you’re still choking him softly, and he moans before registering what even happened. he felt so hot all of a sudden, even more hotter than he’s been feeling currently.

“swa—”

choso already swallows, and pulls you into an even more sloppy kiss directly afterwards. it wasn’t as passionate anymore.

just downright dirty, he was buried way down to the hilt with his cock stuffed into your cunt—you were draining his balls and he couldn’t help but moan. his tongue curls against yours and that’s when he grabs your hips to make your tempo quicken. “f-fuck me, fuck me. make me c-cum, i need it,” he’d whine before rephrasing in a cold sweat. “i need you.”

“lean back ‘n watch me then, baby.”

“okay, o-okay.”

he lets you do your thing, the alignment of your bodies together . . so hot.

he was always such a perfect fit for you, his dick was just driving in and out of you, you thwacked against his full base every so often. you’d even go as far as to massage near his balls to make him meek out a sweet candied moan. he’d beg for you to keep going that, he loved whenever you touched him.

a kiss, a touch, anything…

he savored it all. the smacking thump that continued to be created rang throughout your ears and his. bundles of nerves continue to rise up and up, and you gasp once he prods against your g-spot for probably the umpteenth time now.

choso’s breathing hitches, and once he cums it’s so much. his facial expression was the best part though. his eyebrows contort together and his maw just dangles open, desperately begging for a kiss. you kiss him as he’s pouring such thin ropes of cum into you. you slow down a bit, still riding him and he was so drunk off of you. you had him pussy drunk within a span of a few minutes. choso’s dick ferociously pulses inside of you, and it’s so warm and filthy.

while he’s still spurting into you, he’s heavily heaving—you softly lap your tongue near his bottom lip, pressing your body against his. forever snuggled up within his warmth.

“o-oh my goddd,” he’d drag out, feeling how much he spewed into your tight walls. his bulky arms wrap around you and he just holds you before feeling himself go limp. he’s flaccid, yet he didn’t wanna pull out just yet. he just wanted to stay here, like this with you. “you m-milked me baby.”

“do you feel better?” you purr, sneaking a kiss near the corner of his mouth.

choso’s so out of breath, it takes him a good twenty seconds to reply. “y-yesss,” and then he glances at you. you’re still on his lap, keeping his mess stuffed inside of you. your panties were probably all ruined, sticky and smeared with the remnants of his seed. “you didn’t finish, baby.”

“i’m okay.” you reassure him before gasping once he suddenly lifts you up softly, pulling out. you pout from not feeling so full, so plugged in.

choso makes you lie down on the bed, and he’s panting. heave after heave, dark eyebrows of his form together before he bends down, inching closer towards between your legs. “i want my girl to finish too,” and his voice was so soothing.

you moan, watching him lean closer towards your thighs, your legs still felt shaky and that’s when choso lolls out his tongue, slowly dragging his tongue up your thigh towards near the crevices of your cunt. he was so filthy, simply no shame in tasting his own mess just to ensure you get a sweet orgasm.

choso’s eyes flicker back up towards you before he spreads the lips of your cunt with two simple fingers. “you made me feel good s-so just let me,” and he continued to lap his tongue all over your legs. such lewd, he moans. warm breath fans against your skin before he licks near your panties that were all messy too. “let me clean you up now baby. pretty please?”

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