#I wanna stay curled up in my warm bed

[themoonunderstoodmydadjokes]

The urge to not go to work today is very strong… 😴😴

[okcoolthanks]

Minuets pass too quickly

[cold-kitty]

Due to very, very high demand for part two of my Yan!Mermaid (looks at my notifications and cries), here it is.

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Contains: NSFW, dub-con, same warnings as the last one other than that

Yan!Mermaid who starts clinging to your leg as you sigh, so happy that you're giving him another chance.

Yan!Mermaid who watches your hand signals and listens to your foreign words, not understanding a thing but tries to listen for your sake.

Yan!Mermaid who forces himself not to straddle you when he sits next to you, his tail swaying slowly behind him.

Yan!Mermaid who watches you fish all day, just enjoying your presence.

Yan!Mermaid who pouts and whines and clings to you when you try to leave. no no no no no! don't leave! i don't wanna be alone! stay with me, i promise to keep you warm!

Yan!Mermaid who tries to climb into the trunk of your car, and somehow manages.

Yan!Mermaid who happily slides out of your truck when you arrive home, smiling wide.

Yan!Mermaid who's surprised when you don't seem happy too. you look mad, but you suck it up and groan.

Yan!Mermaid who doesn't like how you put him in a tank with the fish you caught, he wants to sleep in your bed!

Yan!Mermaid who climbs out of the tank when you're asleep and crawls across the floor to your room, curling up in bed with you.

Yan!Mermaid who lets his mind wander to when he was grinding against you, how good it felt. y-your skin is so w-warm and soft... a-ah...

Yan!Mermaid who is immediately worked up again, pressing himself against you tight.

Yan!Mermaid who lets his hands greedily trail over you, gently squeezing your thighs and watching the flesh bounce back into place.

Yan!Mermaid who hesitantly pulls down your pants. he promises himself that he's just looking, but he can't resist the temptation. s-so pretty...

Yan!Mermaid who starts by squishing the flesh of your ass, watching it jiggle. he continues to do that for a while, almost mesmerized. he loves watching you squirm in your sleep too.

Yan!Mermaid who sticks his fingers in his mouth, sucking on them and getting them wet.

Yan!Mermaid who starts by pushing one finger into you, slowly so he doesn't hurt you. he watches how your unconscious body squirms and reacts to the intrusion.

Yan!Mermaid who slowly pushes another finger into you, but that wakes you up. you look behind you almost immediately, a horrified look on your face.

Yan!Mermaid who expects you to hurt him, staring at you with wide and fearful eyes. he starts moving his fingers nonetheless, hoping that it might calm you down, twisting and curling them with slight hesitation. oh please don't hate me! you're just so irresistible!

Yan!Mermaid who watches as your body starts to quiver softly, your head falling back into the pillow. you were giving up to the pleasure, even if reluctantly.

Yan!Mermaid who feels encouraged, his fingers thrusting fasted, twisting and curling them to his hearts content. he makes sure to get real close to you so he can hear all of your soft whimpers and moans. a-ah... keep making those sounds... so cute...

Yan!Mermaid who keeps this up until you cum, and oh my God is he so happy. he watches as you convulse softly, pulling his fingers out and licking them. he doesn't mind if it's nasty if it's you.

Yan!Mermaid who lowers himself down and starts licking up the cum that fell onto the bed.

Yan!Mermaid who pats your back reassuringly as he positions himself behind you, helping you out though the whole thing. stroking your hair, praising you in his language, kissing every inch of your body, going as slow as he can.

Yan!Mermaid who cuddles you the whole night after that, kissing you softly. he's so happy, so fucking happy. he finally got to mate with you like a real lover, even if it was only one short round.

(BONUS NSFW: Yan!Mermaid definitely does analingus, %100. Yan!Mermaid puts your needs and wants before his, if he wants to go fast and you want to go slow he goes slow. he hates seeing you in crying, so he refuses to overstimulate you, nothing rough or degrading, and he doesn't dare leave marks on you. Yan!Mermaid AFTERCARE, SO MUCH OF IT.)

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Does anyone know how mermaid dick works? Like honestly, how. Is it in the tail? Just hanging out there? HOW!?

~🐈‍⬛

[garoujo]

✩ ˛˚ . GOJO SATORU — you’re not sure if it’s normal for a ‘relationship’ like you and gojo’s to be so constant.

ஜ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ contents! situationship!gojo, although it seems to be a little more than that, fluff! he’s a clingy baby ♡ ˖ ࣪࿐ྂ note! i literally had to pull over at the side of this road to write this in my notes <3 childe is coming tomoz guys i swear !

“satoru, i have to leave eventually, i can’t stay here forever.” you sigh from where you’re wrapped in gojo’s, your… friend’s bed, his sheets, his shirt. you’re not sure how long you’ve been here, three? four days maybe, it’s like both of you are just ignoring that maybe this is a little more than what you’re trying to say it is.

“you leavin’ me cold? where’s your heart.” hes teasing you as he whines playfully, pouting from where he’s standing at the foot of his bed. he’s still shirtless from his shower— his snowy hair is wet, framing his features and you think it’s annoyingly unfair how low on his hips his sweatpants are resting. “bring back my sweet girl.”

he’s not sure how to tell you that he doesn’t remember the last time he had a full nights sleep before you’d started staying over.

“none of my stuff is here.” you try to reason but gojo’s so fast to send you a handsome sort of grin before he’s turning away from you momentarily. you watch him hum as he picks his slacks up from the floor, reaching into the side pocket to pull out his wallet before reaching so quickly for the sleek black card inside with a shrug.

“i’ll get you new stuff. see,” he tilts his head towards the card and you know he’s serious despite his smooth tone, the ridiculously luxury apartment you’re in right now and his usual expensive clothes was enough proof that he could, but that’s not what you meant.

“no, satoru, i’m serious. i need my clothes.” you sigh as you lean yourself back into the plush pillows beneath you, youre grumbling like you’re being held here against your will but you’ve still made no real effort to move from your place.

you feel the mattress at your feet dip as gojo pushes himself back onto the bed, his fingertips reaching to wrap gently around your calf as he crawls his way towards you. it’s incredibly intimate the way he looks up at you through his lashes, lifting your leg slightly until you feel his lips trace along the inside of ankle, leaving short—soft pecks in their wake.

his gaze remains on yours as he trails kisses up your skin, continuing until he’s high enough to let his chin rest on your stomach, long arms wrapping underneath your waist as he shoots you another smile. “oh? but you look so good already, sweet thing.”

you groan at that, “satoru! omg, i need an outfit. i cant just live in your stuff.” — as comfortable as it is.

“yeah yeah, i hear you. i can take you there, wait f’ you and bring you back.” gojo grumbles from where he’s hugging himself into you, bringing up one of his hands like he’s talking you through a plan as you watch his fingers wave around in the air with his words.

you sigh again, for what feels like the millionth time today, but you still let your fingers push their way through the damp roots of the man over you’s hair— a motion that earns you a quick kiss pressed through your shirt before he lets the silence linger comfortably.

you think this was probably a lot more than what you’re both trying to say it is.

“hm, so you wanna go on a date, ‘s that it?” gojo grumbles a few moments later, goading as he shoots you one of his cheekier smirks before he’s pushing himself up high enough to curl over you. but the playful jokes makes you feel suddenly warm as you look up at him— trying so hard to retain the frown on your features despite the way his crystalline gaze makes you want to melt into a puddle.

“you’re so annoying.” you try to push him away but he doesn’t budge as he chuckles, leaning down to press his face ticklishly into the crook of your neck as he pokes playfully at the sides of your waist— just enough to kick start a laughing fit. “‘toru! i swear—“

“oh? i see how it is. why’re you mad?” you can barely breathe as gojo presses you into the mattress beneath you— twitching and wriggling underneath his huge body as he continues to press into your ticklish spots.

“s-stop it! i’m not mad.”

“oh yeah? well i haven’t done anything afterall! you said you wanted an outfit, don’t go all shy on me now~” he’s deliberately accompanying each touch with an onslaught of kisses along the crook of your neck that make you shudder.

“satoru! oh my god, i’m gonna kill you.” you gasp as you kick your legs, giggling uncontrollably until you feel him cease suddenly and drop himself back on top of you with a huff.

“oh, scary! you said it, sweet girl. you fallin’ for me? i knew it! it can’t be helped, i’ll be happy to take you out if you ask nicely.”

gojo’s lips rest against your jawline as he speaks this time; smooth as honey while his hands push their way underneath the hem of your—his shirt. his fingers rest gently at your waist before he begins tracing something messily, probably something similar to a heart if you were to focus on it a little more.

you don’t answer him this time, like you’ve admitted defeat as your arms wrap around him— letting him melt into you a little longer before he’s pushing himself up to press a kiss against your cheek, then your lips when you turn around to face him.

“hm, that’s too bad. i kinda wanted to keep you locked away in here for a little while longer. oh well.” gojo smirks as he tries to feign disappointed, pinching between his brows before he’s shooting you a wink and leaning in for another kiss. his lips linger a little longer this time, tongue coming out to tease along your lower lip before he pulls away suddenly a few moments later— leaving you pouty and all of a sudden kiss starved.

you watch him fumble around for a little bit, sorting through the clothes that you both had peeled off in such a rush the night before. you give him a confused look when he bends over; rising back up as he shakes his car keys at you with another one of his signature grins.

“aw, don’t look at me like that. come on, we got somewhere to be, right? wear somethin’ nice f’ me.”

© 2023 GAROUJO. please do not copy any of my layouts or writing and translate or repost onto any other sites.

[pupkashi]

gojo isn’t a baby when he’s sick (shocker!)

a/n: just a little drabble I’ve had in my head for a while now :P i just think satoru is so thoughtful and amazing ok bye

masterlist

gojo takes colds like a champ. he doesn’t complain or writhe around in pain, on the verge of tears and begging for all your attention. instead he calls ijichi telling him he’s staying home and rolls back into bed, pulling the covers closer to his feverish body.

you’re awake minutes later, vision fuzzy and hair a mess as you reach over to hug your lover, fully expecting to end up grabbing cold sheets as usual. you almost jump out of your skin when you feel satoru’s warm body.

“angel you okay?” you whisper, worried as to why he wasn’t at jujutsu tech by now.

“sick” is all he says, sniffling a bit and turning around to face you, covering his mouth with the blanket, “took medicine already” his voice is muffled and you pout at him.

his face is flush from the fever you’re sure he has, strands of hair sticking to his forehead as you push his hair back, running your fingers through his hair. you motion for him to come closer, rolling your eyes playfully when he hesitates, worried about getting you sick.

“I’ll be fine, c’mere” you smile, holding him tightly when he finally gives in, relishing in your body heat.

the two of you doze off again, but by the time you wake up satoru is already out of bed. you can smell freshly made chicken soup as you get closer to the kitchen, finding satoru curled up in a blanket with an empty bowl on the coffee table.

it’s something that takes you by surprise, fully expecting him to follow his usual absurdly clingy and pouty routine dialed to 100. instead he’s incredibly self sufficient, taking his medicine and making his own food. he rarely complains to you, only telling you he feels like shit when you ask how he’s feeling.

satoru motions for you to join him on the couch, laying his head in your lap and closing his eyes when your fingers find his hair, playing with the soft snowy strands.

“y’know i expected you to be all clingy and helpless” you admit, smiling down at your lover, who by now is in and out of micro sleeps.

he hums a ‘nu uh’ pausing for a second before speaking up, “don’t wanna make myself your chore when i can take care of myself” he mumbles, “you’ve got ‘nough on your plate.”

his response takes you by surprise, a soft smile pairing your lips as your eyes soften at the man in your lap. how’d you get so lucky?

“thank you hun, but you aren’t a chore” you reassure him, fingertips softly tracing his jawline, then moving to trace down the slope of his nose. “i love taking care of you, angel boy.”

you can see his smile growing wider as you talked, dimples peeking out as his blue eyes fluttered open softly. satoru moves so he’s laying on his back, watching as you admire him, slowly scratching at his scalp once more.

“I’ll take care of you when i can” you whisper, brushing any stray strands of hair out of his eyes. it’s a small gesture, but it makes satoru’s heart leap out of his chest, body warm from both your love and the virus wreaking havoc on his immune system.

satoru takes your words lightly, he won’t cry and complain every three seconds because he’s sick. he’ll take his medicine and pout a bit, but he’ll never be too dramatic.

he will let you take care of him though, never saying no to your cuddles or soups, loving the way you fuss over him.

taglist: @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @kentocalls

[cosmicmunsonwrites]

hihi could you write about pogue!reader who's been in love w jj for like ever and everyone EXCEPT for him know? and like at some point they become fwb bc its easier for her to have something rather than nothing but it does more harm than good lmao (w angryish love confession from her and a confused bc he had no idea but also in love jj)

and we both drew blood

jj maybank x fem!pogue!reader

cw — p in v, slight jealousy, angst, fluff, alochol consumption, happy ending

summary — after everything finally builds up, you tell jj how you feel.

a/n — thank you for the request!! i really hope i did well but i kinda wrote this fast so please forgive me if it sucks. please request more!

do not copy or post my work anywhere else.

your hands mindlessly gripped the sheets of your bed, whimpering when he hit that deep spot inside of you as he thrusted into you from behind. “oh fuck, j. i‘m gonna cum,” you babbled out as best you could without stuttering.

jj huffed out a laugh and gripped your hips a little tighter to pull you back against him in time with his thrusts. “yeah? ‘m close too,” he mumbled in response as he began to speed his pace up. “cum for me, baby. wanna feel your pretty little pussy squeezin’ my cock.”

you closed your eyes and bit down on your lip to suppress a scream theatening to leave your lips. one of his hands reached around and underneath you to rub tight circles on your clit, making you cry out and moan in overwhelming pleasure. “oh my fuck,” you spluttered between pants. “i’m coming—fuck, jj!”

“always such a good girl for me,” he mumbled, focused on the sight of him sliding in and out of you and a white ring formed around the base of him. he continued rubbing your clit quickly to ride your orgasm out. “shit, baby. so fuckin’ tight around me. squeezin’ me so good. best pussy i’ve ever had.”

you felt tears slip past the corners of your eyes as he fucked into you harder and quicker until he was pressing himself as deep into you as he could and filling you with his warm cum. he smoothed his hands down your aching back and leaned down to kiss the skin of your spine. “that’s it, angel. jus’ fuckin’ take it,” he rasped out while still gently caressing your skin.

when he finally began to soften inside of you, he slowly and carefully pulled out before laying another kiss to your skin then disappearing off to the bathroom to grab a towel. he ran it under warm water, wringing the excess out and returning to you.

he gently grabbed your thighs and turned you over onto your back so you could lay comfortably. “you still with me, sweetheart?” he asked considerately.

“mhm,” you hummed, eyes closed as you tried to catch your breath. your hips jerked when he ran the towel over your spent cunt to clean you up.

jj chuckled softly before launching the fabric to your bucket of dirty laundry and laying down beside you. he pulled you into his chest, your head against the firm muscle and his hands making quick work to throw the blanket over the two of you. “need anythin’ from me? water? a snack?” he questioned.

you shook your head and curled into him further. “i’m good. jus’ tired,” you slurred, still slightly out of it and very very sleepy.

“i’ll head out then and let you get some rest,” he said and pressed a soft kiss to your temple.

before he could make another move, you quickly objected. “want you to stay a little longer, j. you’re warm.”

he smiled to himself and shuffled a little bit to get comfortable, knowing he’s probably be here for an hour or two.

the next night, everyone was gathered around at the boneyard for another kegger like they often did on warm summer nights. kooks, pogues, and tourons on littered across the beach with red solo cups in their hands and music playing through the air.

“hey! where were you last night?” sarah asked as he and kiara approached when they finally saw you arrive. “we waited for like, half an hour before we gave up on you.”

you saw the knowing look on kie’s face, rolling your eyes and looking down at your cup of beer. “yeah, sorry guys, something came up and i was stuck at home.”

the brunette couldn’t help but snort. “did the ‘something’ have to do with jj?” she teased, wiggling her eyebrows. “john b and pope said he never showed to the chateau last night.”

you looked around, wondering how you could get out of this even though you already knew you were busted. “you know,” you began with absolutely no clue where to go with this. “somethings happen.”

kiara immediately smiled and clapped her hands then pointed at sarah. “i told you! you owe me twenty bucks,” she said excitedly. “it’s not that hard to find out, babe. we all know you guys are hooking up.”

you shrugged and took another sip of your drink. “i mean, its not exactly a secret.”

sarah gave you a knowing look. “i don’t get why you don’t just tell him how you feel. we all know you guys have liked each other for years.”

shaking your head, you waved off the idea. “i doubt he feels the same way about me and i’m not gonna embarrass myself if he doesn’t,” you replied honestly. “and besides, i like where we’re at right now.”

kiara rolled her eyes and shook her head in disbelief. “oh, come on. no you don’t. you’re upset because you wish there was more between you guys,” she stated. “hanging onto these little bits and pieces is only hurting you more in the long run.”

“guys, it’s not that big of a deal. we just hookup casually every now and then and thats it. i’d rather have some part of him than have nothing at the end of the day,” you admitted. “and it’s not hurting me, i’m fine!”

sarah tilted her head at you, as if to say ‘seriously?’ “dude, we all see it. you’re getting your hopes up and then he’s just letting you down. just tell him how you feel and then at least if he says he doesn’t want anything, then you can move on peacefully and live your life without delusions.”

kiara nodded in agreement. “she’s right babe. we don’t wanna attack you or anything or come off as rude, we jus’ wanna see you happy and you’re obviously not right now,” she said softly and sincerely. “you should really tell him how you feel. i’m sure you’ll be pretty happy with how it turns out.”

you chewed your bottom lip anxiously and looked around to see what was going on only to feel your heart begin to break in your chest. jj was leaned up against a tree with a girl clinging to his arm. she almost looked like you in a way. same hair color and length, similar facial features, similar build.

it made your lip wobble and your stomach turn uncomfortably. “i really appreciate that guys, but i’m just gonna head back to the chateau for a little bit,” you whispered, not trusting your own voice.

the two followed your gaze to jj and the girl, both their faces dropping in a matter of seconds. “do you want us to come with you?” sarah asked softly.

when you shook your head and sniffled to stop the tears, kiara took you into her arms and gave you a tight hug. “you’re gonna be okay. you’re one of the strongest people i know.”

you smiled sadly before the two wished you off with gentle reassuring affirmations. you made the long walk to the chateau in silence as you sipped on what was left of your alcohol and thought about what to do next.

you couldn’t realistically continue this fling with him if he was messing with another girl, even though you technically had no reason to be upset. you were friends with benefits, not dating or exclusive. he was allowed to do whatever he pleased.

yet the nights he’d stay over after making you feel better than you ever had, fucking you so soft and sweet, kissing you so passionately when he’s buried inside you, defending you around everyone, protecting you always, opening up to you about his most personal details, complimenting you every chance he gets. you didn’t understand why he’d do all these things just to go off with someone else.

once you finally arrived, you’d immediately walked over to the fridge to grab a bottle of vodka and your old cup. you quickly poured yourself a shot, or two, or three. you didn’t really remember. you also couldn’t remember how much time had passed since you had left the party.

you’d found yourself standing at the shoreline of the beach directly outside of the front door to the chateau. you stood barefoot in the warm sand just far back enough to where the water couldn’t touch you.

you crossed your arms over your body to preserve some of the heat before sighing and rolling the kinks out of your neck. you felt your body and mind start to slowly relax from the various shots you’d taken. it felt like everything had finally gone quiet.

unfortunately for you, that didn’t last long. “hey! where’ve you been? i’ve been looking all over for you. i thought something might’ve happen to you,” jj half shouted as he approached you from the direction of the boneyard. “what happened, cupcake? sarah and kie told me you weren’t feelin’ too hot.”

you couldn’t help but scoff at his words. “looking all over for me?” you repeated as a question. he had to have been lying.

he looked almost confused. “yeah…you’ve been gone for like an hour,” he replied. “i checked the whole party for you.”

“was that before or after you were all over that girl?” you blurted out. you almost instantly regretted it. you didn’t even really want to know.

his expression changed into one you couldn’t quite read. “what?” he asked, voice just above a whisper now. “i went searching for you the moment you left kiara and sarah.” you shook your head in disbelief and turned your head back at the ocean. “i don’t get it. what did i do wrong?”

you took a deep breath and hugged your body tighter when a strong gust of wind blew past you. “i’m not gonna keep doing this jj. god, you’re so oblivious!” you snapped finally, turning your full body to see his. “i mean, at this point i feel like i’m throwing myself at you! i’m always trying to be around you, catering to you, showing you that i’m here for you, asking you to hang out— i even agreed to be fucking friends with benefits just to have something with you!”

you stopped for a minute and sighed. “i ask you to stay the night, to just hold me whenever theres a chance, i ask you to run errands and shit with me just to spend time with you jj. i can’t make it anymore clear how much i like you and i feel like you’re giving me signals sometimes that maybe you feel the same way but then the next day you just act like nothing happened and the inconsistency is killing me!”

jj looked stunned. like he would’ve never seen this coming in a million years as if it weren’t totally noticeable. the pogues all saw they way they felt about each other except them.

“if you don’t want me or see anything, can you please just say that?” your voice shook slightly as you spoke as if the conversation was starting to sober you up and the confidence you once had is gone. “i really fucking like you jj and its really hard to keep acting like everything we do means nothing to me because thats just not true. if you see me as nothing more than just friends with benefits or just friends, please just tell me so i can get over you.”

his mouth was slightly agape as he listened to you talk, shocked that you had all this built up inside. you guys were best friends and he truly thought he’d known everything about you. this was something he would’ve never guessed you’d be keeping from him. his lips twitched like he was gonna say something but the words never came. it was just awkward, tense silence.

you bit your lip to keep it from wobbling as tears of embarrassment clouded your sight. you took one last look at him, your glossy gaze locked on his unreadable one, before deciding to head back into the chateau to grab your things.

he quickly lurched forward and grabbed onto your wrist to keep you from moving any further. “please don’t go,” he said softly. he slid his hand down your arm and took your hand in his before doing the same with the other. “i didn’t know you felt like that, sweetheart.”

you averted your eyes from your interlocked hands up to his pretty blue ones that you’d fallen for over the years. “i’ve always thought you were too good for me. too nice, too smart, too pretty. thought i was always jus’ your best friend,” he said, titling his head slightly and staring right into you. “i really fucking like you too, cupcake. and saying i don’t want you would be a lie.”

a soft gasp left your lips at the confession. never in a million years did you ever think you’d hear those words come out of his mouth in real life. you could’ve swore that only happened in dreams.

what you especially didn’t expect was for him to grab your hips and pull you into him, kissing you full of passion, love, years of wanting. you sighed against his lips and wrapped your arms loosely around his neck before tilting your head a little more to deepen it as his tongue soothed over yours.

once the two of you needed to pull away for air with spit-slick and puffy lips, he was the first to speak. “you’re all mine now, right? my beautiful girl all to myself?” he asked, earning a nod and a hum of approval from you. “good. ‘nd i’m all yours, baby.”

you smiled and pulled him back into you for another kiss. only then did you hear whistling and hollering along with obnoxious claps that you could easily distinguish as your friends returning back from the boneyard.

[arieslost]

little spoon | ln4

summary: lando is the little spoon for the first time.

word count: 835

masterlist — join my tag list here!

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

you’re half asleep when lando finally gets into bed.

you don’t mean to fall asleep, fully intending to stay awake, but the jet lag is really getting to you. you were hellbent on staying up in order to spend some extra time alone with your boyfriend after such a tumultuous day, especially because your flight to jeddah had been delayed.

you had only caught a glimpse of him before he had to get in the car, so you couldn’t do your pre-race ritual. instead, lando had sprinted to where you stood at the side of the track, hoping to at least give him an encouraging thumbs up, and kissed you so quickly that you barely even felt it before he was running back to his car.

so yeah, a little private time to decompress together sounded really nice. you’ve been trying everything you could, but you’re fighting a losing battle with your heavy eyelids.

the dip of the mattress has you blinking your eyes open, rubbing a hand over your face as lando slips under the covers. you give him a soft smile, and he returns it.

“hey, sleepy,” he whispers.

“hey,” you whisper back. “y’okay?”

“yeah. tired. still kinda pissed off.” he admits.

the race had gone so well, for a little while, at least. the rush of adrenaline you felt when your boyfriend led the race was like nothing you’d ever experienced before, and then he crossed the finish line in p8. you’re still learning the ins and outs of race strategy and whatnot, but you know that something had gotten lost when it came to lando’s strategy.

“sorry, baby,” you reach out and brush your fingers through his curls, still damp from the shower. “things will be better next race.”

“at least one of us is optimistic.” he grumbles, pressing himself further into your hand when you move it from his hair to caress his cheek.

“it will be,” you insist. “and i will be there, ready to say ‘i told you so.’”

he rolls his eyes playfully, and you push his face away in return. “you are so rude.”

“but you looove me,” he coos, grabbing your waist and pulling you into him.

“lucky you,” you make a face at him.

he laughs, sliding a hand to the back of your neck to pull you in for a long kiss.

you hum happily, appreciating how warm his body is and how good he smells. you want nothing more than to cuddle him close to you, pet his head, kiss his shoulder and his neck…

the lightbulb goes off in your head, and you break the kiss, causing lando to whine in dissatisfaction.

“baby…”

“you’re never the little spoon.” you say, like that explains why you’d want to stop kissing him.

“yeah,” he shrugs, pressing another kiss to your lips. “so?”

“so,” you begin, giggling when he goes in for yet another kiss, “maybe tonight you can be.”

“really?” he furrows his eyebrows. “you want to do that?”

“mhmm,” you affirm against his lips when he kisses you again before you can answer. “wanna hold you. you had a long day.”

“i did have a long day.” he agrees, sighing dramatically. “fine. one more kiss?”

“if you insist,” its your turn to playfully roll your eyes as he kisses you, smiling all the while and making an obnoxious mwah sound before he shifts onto his side away from you.

you scooch closer to him and a little further up the bed in order to get one of your arms between his neck and the pillow. the other goes under his own arm and rests against his bare chest.

“this okay?” you ask.

he nods, kissing your forearm.

“good,” you smile against his shoulder. “i love you, lan.”

“love you so much, my baby.” he murmurs, tangling your fingers together.

your heart beats a little faster at his use of my. for as long as you’ve been with him, you’ve never quite gotten used to that lovestruck feeling you get whenever he refers to you as his. you leave little kisses across his shoulder and his neck until his breathing evens out and your eyes fall shut.

when you wake in the morning, you’re sprawled out on your back with one lando norris still fast asleep and attached to your side like a koala. your left arm is still around his shoulders, but his face is snuggled into your neck, his arm is looped around your waist, and one of his legs is in between both of yours. you’re a little chilly courtesy of the blankets being stuck between your bodies, so you slowly move onto your side to face him so you can wrap your other arm around him and pull him closer.

he never says anything about it, to preserve his “macho-ness,” as he likes to put it, but every time he gets into bed and rolls onto his side after that night, you always know exactly what he’s asking for.

note: i warned y’all this would happen and here i am. also i’m still exhausted from going to a concert and then staying up for quali so if there’s any mistakes that i missed pls tell me otherwise i will die of embarrassment 💪🏼💪🏼

my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are greatly appreciated <33

dividers by @/saradika

tags: @venusacrossthestars @67-angelofthelordme-67 @emails-i-can-send @nelly187 @cixrosie @fangirl-dot-com @sainzluvrr @imheretoread @mellowarcadefun @yourbane @monsieurbacteria6 @c-losur3 @papayatori @ssprayberrythings @namgification @maih23 @evlkking @witchycarmen @ilovethispookie @maxverstappenfan79 @sya-skies @sweatrevenge5436-blog @kimis-gloves @mia-rrrs @decafmickey @customsbyjcg-blog @bigheartsthings @tania2748 @scuderiadevils @iloveyou3000morgan @ctrlyomomma @hiireadstuff @daemyratwst @arian-directioner @evelyn-ny @avg-golden-retriever

[chxrrydrxp]

aftercare with Jason bc he’s so sweet after breaking the bed :((

ugh, thank you for giving me something new to daydream about.

yall these exams are gonna kick my ass next week god help me

(mild spice, mainly sugar sweetness, gender isnt specified, race neutral) mdni

Jason is such a sweetheart

With the rise and fall of your chest, the room was filled with the quiet sounds of you desperately trying to breathe, your hands tightly wrapped around Jason's neck.

Your body trembled as he pulled one last intense orgasm from you. Your voice was rugged and your throat felt desert dry from the strained gasping and pleading he'd elicited from you all night. His thrusts are now slower, but deeper. "f-uck.." he whimpers, emptying himself into you, and then he nips at your earlobe. He leans down to your sweaty forehead and places a kiss there, then more down your cheek. You let out a breathy laugh and reach your hand up to caress his cheek. He grabs ahold of your hand, bringing it up to his cheek anyway, then placing a wet kiss along your knuckles. "You're...so fucking beautiful..." he mutters breathlessly against your hand. "look at you.." he places more kisses across your palm. "How'd I ever get so lucky..." His black hair mostly sticks to his forehead, with the occasional curl tickling your face. You finally found your words, kissing him softly on the lips, and wrapping your arms around his back pulling him down. "I wanna stay like this forever Jay..with you." A tired smile appears on his lips as he slowly pulls out of you, smug at the tremble of your legs from the sensitivity. "Yeah but it'll be a bitch to pee later," he says rubbing your cheek with his thumb mindlessly. You roll your eyes at his obviousness. Leaving you with one last kiss, he reaches over to the bedside for your water bottle, lifting it to your lips to drink. "c'mon, open up." You accept the water with relief, and he partakes in it as well. You lift yourself on your elbows slightly, and then you notice the bed seems to be creaking a lot easier than it did previously, but you don't put much thought into it. Jason goes to the bathroom for a while to clean himself up and comes out with a wet washcloth and wipes, wearing gray sweatpants. "You're not gonna like this part, come on you gotta pee," he says. he kneels at the bedside, scooping you up into his muscular arms bride-style. you groan in pain at the sudden movement . he gently places you on the toilet, and leans against the sink. "Jason did you.. break the bed?" He begins running hot water in the tub. "You're the one who kept telling me to go harder and faster, I don't wanna hear it." you attempted to hide your embarrassment. "I ordered some food for you, it'll be here by the time you finish your bath." you slowly sink into the water, feeling the warmness engulf you and relax your muscles. "How'd you know what I wanted to eat?" you questioned, leaning against the smooth tub. "If I asked you, the stores would all be closed by the time you could make up your mind. trust me you'll like it." you laid back in defeat. he left the bathroom and came back with a book, two candles, and a glass of your favorite wine. you watched in awe. as he filled your favorite glass with the liquid, and sat crisscrossed on the floor beside you. He lit the candles one by one, then handed the glass to you. "for you, my love," he said with a cheeky smile. you accept the glass, your heart pounding in response. how did you get so lucky? meanwhile, he's taking in your form with awe. how the hell did he get so lucky? you both smile mutually, staring into the eyes of the love of your lives. "I love you so much Jay," you mutter, making his heart flutter. he leans over the tub, placing a kiss on your nose. "I'm so in love with you y/n."

[artinvain]

abby and pillow princess reader??

fuck I know I said I couldn’t write but I needed to stay up to write this — it reminded me too much of my wonderful butch so here we fucking go <3

cw: daddy term, strap use, oral and fingering. men minors blank blogs dni or follow!

abby’s mouth is warm and wet as she kisses and sucks at your neck, her hands gripping you as she presses herself against your plush body. abby’s hands feel so good gripping your pillowy hips as she encourages you to move your hips against her thigh.

“abby wait,” you sigh as she starts to bite a mark into your neck, “it’s fuck -“ you gulp - “please let me do something, I never give you anything-“

abby pulls back as if offended, watching you pant under is making her fucking throb for you. but she needs to understand what you mean first, she lays herself gently over you and strokes your face gingerly.

“baby, what are you saying?” she asks so softly, so wholeheartedly it makes you ache.

“I just -“ you reach for her hand and kiss the palm of it, taking a deep breath, “I don’t - I can’t really give you what what I feel like I should be when we fuck because -“

“you’re a pillow princess,” abby finishes as if it’s obvious, she’s still staring at you quizzically, “did you l think I didn’t know? what you think I thought you were just shy with the way you were jumping my bones baby?”

abby chuckles as she starts to kiss your neck again, and you gasp, back arching when she bites down - “you see that is what you give me,” abby moans, kissing you and bringing her fingers down to rub your clit gently. the way you start to pant instead of kiss, mouth opening in a whine, your body melting into her touch.

“hearing you make these pretty fucking sounds, makes me so fucking hot.” abby chuckles as you buck your hips against her fingers that are prodding your soft cunt and sinking her fingers in deep inside you, curling them. you groan, eyes rolling back as abby fucks her fingers into you, hitting your gspot over and over. your mind turning fuzzy with the feeling of her fingers stretching you.

“yeah baby fuck — seeing you get all dizzy like this,” abby squeezes you tits and rubs at your clit until your thighs are shaking, “giving you pleasure, gives me pleasure, princess,”

abby moans as you cum, grunting as she pulls your pants and panties down to mouth at your cunt and moans at the taste, pulling you close and handling your legs over her shoulders.

“oh god daddy, fuck feels so good,” you whine, your hands knotting in her hair. abby slides her fingers back into your clenching pussy, “taste so good honey,” abby drunkenly slurs, grunting at the taste of you as she licks around her fingers inside you and sucking your clit.

“please, shit daddy m’gonna cum,” you yelp near riding her face until abby holds you down with her forearm and curls her fingers into you until your leaking down her wrist.

you gasp shaking and swallowing for air as abby kisses your thighs, “fuck, th-thank you,” you whine out as abby rubs her hands over you body. “no - thank you sweetheart, but daddy wants to be inside you again-“ abby presses a kiss to your mouth, removing your hoodie and immediately latching her mouth to your tits.

you scratch your nails down abby’s back as she nips and licks on your nipples, “wanna fuck you with my cock - can I?” abby moans kissing your mouth and you nod eagerly.

“look so pretty,” abby smiles kissing down your torso and then moving around her room as you kick the sheets off the bed. then the bulky blonde is clambering back on the bed, biting her lip and pulling your thighs open.

“fuck,” abby moans at the sight of your wet cunt swollen and throbbing as she slides her lubed cock into you. her brows furrowed and moaning as she sinks in.

you yelp loudly when abby starts to buck her hips and “god you take me so well” she groans, grabbing your belly and pressing your thigh into you gently so she can fuck you deep and hard, buck and roll her hips so she can see you getting all fucked out and dizzy. “fuck, daddy!” you groan trying to grab hold of anything.

“oh you’re daddy’s good girl,” abby moans lowly, her hand reaching up to encircle your neck.

abby groans, intertwining your fingers, “my sweet princess - fuck you feel so good,” she moans, snapping her hips against you until you’re cumming.

“fuck - my god I love seeing you cum,”

you huff, bucking your hips up against abby and she gently pulls out to handle you onto your belly, you roll your neck, head fuzzy as she eases her tip in and you push yourself back against her cock. your pussy still clenching and twitching.

🫵🏾🏷️ @lesbian-useless @sexysapphicshopowner @iamaboringrattat @lavendersgirl @bimboprincezz @emiliabby

[yanf4iry]

oh, my dear wife ♡

wc 2.1k

husband! alhaitham x afab! reader

modern! au. breast play. fingering. oral (fem). overuse of the words ‘my wife’ but he’s in awe. probably overuse of ‘love’ and ‘darling’ too. lovey dovey alhaitham. ‘love making.’ still slightly teasing alhaitham. subtle breeding kink. afab autonomy. unprotected sex (pls be safe!). pls lmk if anythimg has been missed.

there could be spelling/gramma so pls lmk if there’s anything to be fixed mwah <333

"my darling," alhaitham spoke gently, coming up behind you, his hands lovingly capsuling around your waist as his chin came down to rest upon your shoulder. "i was thinking of ordering a fish curry and a bottle of wine to our room tonight, rather than going down to the restaurant to eat," he continued, expressing his thoughts to you. "just wanna spend the night alone together."

he nuzzled further against your neck, humming softly in contentment as the feeling of your soft skin brushed against his flushed cheeks. "how does that sound?" he asked, turning you around so you were facing him, "i thought it'd be perfect for our first night together as a married couple."

alhaitham gazed down at you lovingly, the smile on his face unmoveable as he mentioned the fact that you were husband and wife. he proposed to you just over a year ago and ever since he's been beyond eager to finally arrive at the day he can officially call you his wife.

"sounds perfect.." you hum back, enjoying the touch of his warm and firm hands against the curve of your waist.

alhaitham pulled away from you softly, going over to the small desk towards the front door of the extremely fancy hotel room you were staying in for the next 10 days. "so what are you thinking, love?" he asks "red or white?" he continues, referring to the wine he previously spoke about ordering.

"red."

"you read my mind," he grins happily before dialing the restaurant downstairs and requesting room service.

the night eventually started to pass, and you found yourselves curled up on the sofa; you snuggled against his chest and his arm trailed over your shoulder, slowly getting through that bottle of red wine he had ordered just over an hour ago.

you catch him gazing down at you, a look you could only recognise as awe and admiration. "what?" you giggle, a light blush covering your face as your eyes intertwine in an intense gaze.

"you're gorgeous.." alhaitham mumbled, his gaze not budging from your face. "perfect, even," he continued, rubbing his slender hands against the skin of your upper arm.

"i've never been so thankful to have someone in my life, let alone have the same person as my wife; who i intend to spend forever and always with.."

his words struck a chord in your heart, reddening your cheeks. "getting flustered, are we?" alhaitham chuckled, a little smirk on his face, "well get used to it.." he leans down and whispered in your ear, his hot breath causing a shiver to erupt down your spine "you've got a lifetime of compliments just like it."

after a couple moments of silence, his fingers slowly started to edge towards the hem of your shirt, dipping under it slightly to let his fingertips softly caress the skin of your lower stomach. a small sigh left your lips at the feeling, enjoying the gentle and loving touches he often grazed on your skin.

alhaitham cleared his throat, his hand moving up a little, inching ever so closer to your waist. "you know.. umm.." he started up, amusement laced in his voice, "there's still one honeymoon tradition we've not gotten around to doing yet," he continued, a smirk tugging on his lips; even though you couldn't see it, you knew it was there.

"and what would that be?"

he replied with a small tut, shaking his head playfully. "oh.. don't make me say it," he spoke up "you know what i mean."

"and what would you like me to do about it?" you ask, turning your head a little so your gaze was now meeting his.

"let me take you to bed," alhaitham spoke without hesitation, that same look of admiration he had on his face "if you'd be so kind.."

and with that, you found yourself laid out on the bed you shared, his tall, slim body hovering over yours. he leaned down, capturing your lips in a soft, yet passionate kiss; full of need and desire, but most importantly, love.

his hands found their way back to the hem of your shirt, fiddling with it slightly, slowly growing more impatient by the second. alhaitham was always, more often than not, gentle in bed but this felt different; not saying he ever lacked passion, but this felt beyond passionate, beyond loving. it was almost as if he craved to be close to you like his entire being needed it.

"may i take it off?" alhaitham asked gently, tugging at your shirt a little, pulling away from your lips so he could look into your eyes; trying to look for any hint of uncertainty or discomfort, and thankfully, he found none.

you nod in response, a small smile painting your face just before he slowly pulled your shirt over your head. you hadn't been wearing a bra in this moment, i mean, what was the need? you were snuggling on the couch with your husband. a deep breath left his throat as he revealed your bare chest.

"i meant it when i said you were perfect, you know?" alhaitham said, voice sounding genuine. he looked at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. well, to him, you were. you were his wife and there was nothing more precious than that.

"you're only saying that because you're close to getting me naked," you giggle softly, teasing him subtly.

"getting you naked is always a bonus," alhaitham spoke back, "but i truly do mean it, you're perfect," he added, "my perfect, perfect wife."

his hand raised towards your breasts, gently caressing them as his lips moved down to meet yours; them intertwining in a soft and loving dance. "you're so soft.." he mumbled against your lips, pressing his body up against yours.

you could feel his arousal growing against your thigh, the hard-on in his slacks extremely hard to hide as his hips subconsciously moved to gain some friction. his fingers tips came to enclose around your nipple, gently playing with it, his mouth swallowing your tiny moans; he refused to move his lips from yours, desperate to feel you. "i need you so bad.."

slowly, his kisses started moving from your lips and down to your neck, him taking the time to suck and bite the delicate skin there; however, not harsh enough to leave any marks or bruises, he was often careful as he knew they were a pain to cover. your heartbeat quickens and your breath paces as his soft lips edge ever so closer to your breasts, him eventually taking your nipple in his mouth, hand continuing to nurse the other.

quiet moans left your mouth as he pleasured you further, head tilted back a little. alhaitham's gaze raised a little, locking eyes with yours for a few subtle seconds, smirking slightly at how the smallest of touches always managed to get you going. "perfect.." he whispered out once again, never missing a moment to remind you how truly in awe he was of you.

"alhaitham.. please.." you whine out, grinding against his hips a little, resulting in a gentle grunt escaping his lips.

"does my beautiful wife need me?" he asks, his voice slightly teasing, but he knew you loved it when he was at least a little cocky with you during bed. "does she need me as much as i need her?"

his hands trail down to the waistband of the sleep shorts you were wearing, looking up at you once more in search of the consent for him to move on. without hesitation, once he received your permission of course, he pulled them down revealing your embarrassingly soaked core to him.

alhaitham grunted at the sight, his hand coming to wrap around your waist, pulling you closer towards him, kissing your lips gently, fingers needing at the skin of your waist. "my wife.." he whispers against your lips, "i'll make you feel good, okay?" alhaitham continues, "that's all i ever want to do."

not even moments later, his wet, warm lips were trailing towards your inner thighs, gently littering kisses everywhere but where you truly needed him. his hands were firmly placed on your hips, fingertips dancing along the miniature stretchmarks there.

a small whimper leaves your lips as his mouth wrapped around your throbbing clit; he was a pleaser, and oh god, was he pleasing you right now. he knew what to do with his tongue without a doubt, exploring your wet folds.

"oh- god.." you whine gently, hand moving to his head, gripping at his soft hair as his mouth worked its wonders. "too good.. s-shit-" you manage to gasp out, hips subtly bucking up against his mouth which only made him chuckle lowly against you.

"like that, my wife?" he mumbles against you before indulging in you for much longer. it wasn't long before you found yourself getting closer to your high, the many noises from your lips getting louder and louder by the second.

"mmhm," you moan out, "just like that."

"are you close, baby?" he whispers against you, fingers teasing your entrance a little, edging two digits inside you, stretching you out making your eyes roll back a little from the overwhelming pleasure. "cum for me, my wife-"

and with that, you were clenching around his fingers as he curved them inside you, brushing up against g-spot with every motion he made, giving you almost no time to process anything before you were cumming against his mouth; legs shaking, and mouth wide open.

"fuck- fuck-" you whimper, legs shaking around his head.

alhaitham's head moved from between your legs, a little smirk on his face as he watched the way your body twitched for him. "let me fill you, darling..." he whispers, hands flying to pull down the slacks he was wearing. "i need to be in you," he continued, revealing his hard cock that was evidently desperate for attention.

"alhaitham please.." you whisper out, watching the way his hand slowly tugged on his length, biting your lip in anticipation. "i need you just as bad."

a gentle moan left your lips, accompanied by a similar noise coming from alhaitham, as he pushed the tip of his cock inside you. "good heavens-" he moans out, hands tightly grasped onto your waist as he pushed himself further inside you, not stopping until he was all the way in.

"tell me when i can move, my love.." alhaitham spoke in a hushed voice, smiling down at you as he watched your face contort in pleasure. "you're doing so well."

after a few short moments, you gave him the clear to start moving, and with the way your wet walls were gripping onto his thick cock, you didn't have to tell him twice.

his thrusts were soft but deep, hitting all the places you need him to be, moans falling from both your lips at the pace of his thrusts. "so good-" alhaitham gasped out, feeling your walls clench around him subconsciously "my perfect, beautiful wife," he gritted out between each movement of his hips.

the tip of his length was pressing up against your cervix every chance it got, making you want to squeal from how good it truly felt. "you're so deep.." you choke out, eyes rolling back and teeth dug tightly into your bottom lip.

"hmm?" alhaitham hums back in response, staring down at you as his thrusts remained the same pace; deep and slow, different to how he usually was. with alhaitham sex was always wild, fast and hard, not because he didn't care but because that's the way you both liked it. he loved making you see stars in the most unimaginable ways, but tonight.. he was soft, passionate and gentle like he was almost scared you'd break. he was pouring every ounce of love and feeling he had into it, making it something completely new.

"do you think im deep enough to get you nice and full with my child, my perfect, pretty wife?" he asks, grabbing a hand full of one of your breasts as he makes the effort to push himself inside you with a little more pressure.

the question made you whimper a little, but it was audibly a few octaves higher because of the shock of hearing it. you'd briefly spoken about possibly having kids before, and alhaitham had always said that he'd like them but it was always your choice, but it's not a topic of discussion that came up a lot so it was a surprise to hear those words come out of his mouth.

"would you like that, darling.." he spoke softly, caressing the skin of your lower stomach. "i know we haven't spoken about it much, but i cant help think about how pretty you'd look pregnant."

"my gorgeous, wonderful, perfect wife, all pregnant just for me."

[dira333]

Part of a Family - Shouto Todoroki x Reader

Don't look at me, I'm in my Baby Era - tagging @shoulmate

You’re not surprised to find a warm weight settled against your ribcage when you wake up, the golden morning light drawing patterns into white hair.

“Hey love,” you drag a hand through the mess. ��Couldn’t sleep?”

Your son grumbles something under his breath, his hold tightening.

One look at the other side of your bed - empty and perfectly made - tells you everything you need to know.

“Did Papa wake you when he left?” You don’t miss the sniffle, no matter how well it’s hidden.

“So you found him gone when you came in this morning,” you guess, rubbing a comforting circle over his back. “Did you know he always checks in on you before he leaves?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Shouji whines, “Didn’t see him..”

“Neither was I. We can’t always be awake when he has to leave. Sometimes I think it’s better we’re asleep. You know we often make him late.”

You let your fingertips dance over the soft skin at his sides, smile when he fights the giggles trying to spill out of him.

“How about we make breakfast, huh? We can make Papa a Bento Box too. You wanna bring him his Lunch?”

Shouji considers it for a second before nodding. But he’s not that eager to get out of bed yet, climbing into your lap the moment you sit up.

You sigh, but you let him, curl your arms around his small body as he sinks into your embrace.

-

Shouji’s small for his age, and almost an exact replica of his father. Only the sides are reversed, leaving his hair white on the left side instead of his right. 

It’s no wonder that Shouto’s family is obsessed with him, no doubt trying to right some wrongs of the past.

“Momma?” Shouji asks, snuggled into you. “Can I get freckles?”

“Freckles?” You blink. “Why?”

“Can I?”

“I don’t know. Your Papa doesn’t have any. But we can draw some on if you want some for today.”

“You can draw them on?” He asks, astonished by this possibility. “Can I look like Uncle Deku?”

You laugh, swaying him left to right. “Sure. But I draw a line at green hair.”

He giggles as you pepper his head with kisses, blow raspberries against his cheeks.

“That tickles!”

-

“Look!” Shouji points at the banner across the street. “Uncle Tsuki!”

You nod, taking in the giant version of Hero Dynamight. “What do you think of his suit?”

“‘s ugly,” Shouji comments, sucking on his thumb. You’re trying to make him stop it, but so far to no avail. “Too much orange.”

“Hm? What colors do you like?”

“Blue, like Papa’s suit.” He thinks for a moment. “Purple’s nice too.”

“Yeah?” You brush a hand through his hair, mix up the white and red. “You like Purple? Do you know someone who wears purple?”

“Uncle Toshi,” he counts on his fingers. “Uncle…” You can tell he’s searching for the name. “Noru?”

“You mean Minoru? Yeah, he wears purple too… Now, do you wanna take my hand as we cross the street?”

He grabs it, his small fingers curling around yours. “Can we get ice cream, Momma?” 

So he has noticed the little ice cream cart sitting at the corner. 

“Maybe on our way back. We’re eating Lunch with Papa first.”

You watch as he bites his lip, considering it.

“But I want ice cream now.”

“I know Honey. Up…” You let him hop up onto the sidewalk. “But if we get ice cream now, we’re going to be late for Lunch. Papa’s waiting for us. And what will he say if we come in eating ice cream?”

“None for me?” Shouji asks, his eyes big and round.

“Yep. None for me. But we can ask him if we can come out and get ice cream together. Is that an idea?”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Papa can make the ice cream stay cold longer.”

“That he can do.”

-

“Look, I don’t have-” Shouto stops midsentence as he spots you in the doorway, the frustration on his face washing away. “I’ll call you back in an hour. Thank you.”

You doubt the person on the other end could get any word in before he ends the call, getting up from his chair.

“What are you guys doing here?” He asks. His smile is warm, and as always, a little tentative. It’s been years but he still doubs sometimes that this is all real.

“We made Lunch!” Shouji declares, pointing at the bag over your shoulder. “I cut the sausage!”

“You did? Amazing!” With one swift motion Shouto has picked him up, hoisting him up so that he’s sitting comfortably in his arms. “Hey there, Shouji. Couldn’t get my Good Morning Kiss today.”

“I was asleep!” Shouji points out, leaning in to press his lips against his Father’s cheeks. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too. Think I can give Momma a Good Morning Kiss too?”

“Yeah,” Shouji nods and waits until his Father has leaned in to kiss you to burst out with the news.

“I’m Uncle Deku now.”

“You are?” Shouto leans back a little to squint at him. “How?”

“I got freckles!” Shouji points at the little dots covering his nose and cheeks. “Momma made me Uncle Deku!”

“Are you as strong as him too?!”

“Yes!” And you watch, chuckling to yourself, as little Shouji proudly flexes his small bicep.

It’s a show, watching them interact. 

Most of the times it’s hard to tell who loves who more. Shouto his son or Shouji his father.

“Oh,” Shouji blinks up at his Dad. “Can we get ice cream?”

“Absolutely!”

You clear your throat and Shouto blinks an apologetic smile in your direction. “But Lunch first.”

-

Shouji’s sitting on the ground in front of you, explaining to a flock of disinterested doves that he’s got a lot of Uncles and Aunts and all of them are Heroes.

“There’s Uncle Tsuki, he makes boom. Uncle Jirou makes himself hard, like… like a door! Unkle Denki fights with Ele-Ele- with Ticity. Uncle Tenya is funny, because he’s really fast. But he’s very strict, he never lets me eat ice cream before Lunch! Aunty Chako makes me float! All the way up until I touch the ceiling! And Aunty Tsuyu pulls me back with her tongue, it’s sticky and wet and it tickles…”

“Can we have another one?” Shouto asks, right in the middle of that, his hand curled around yours, his thigh pressed against yours. If you could sit any closer - without sitting on his lap - you probably would. 

“Another one?” You ask, pretending not to understand. Shouji’s too lost in his monologue to listen.

“Another kid? He’s getting bigger by the minute. Soon we’ll have to Quirk-Train him. Then he’s off to school. I can even take a day off per week if you need it.”

“Stop,” you ask, your voice soft. You reach out to cradle his face in your hands, watch him lean into the touch with that vulernable look in his eyes.

Shouto’s learned to ask for things, but that doesn’t mean he excepts to get them just like that.

“I’m already pregnant.”

You watch as it dawns on him, little by little and then all at once.

His lips are on yours before you know it, half-cold and half-hot, meeting right in the middle. His kisses are burning though, elated and anxious, almost forgetting where you are.

“Papa?” Shouji asks in the middle of that, pulling you apart with his confused voice. “Momma?”

“Everything’s okay,” you explain, pulling him up onto your lap. “Papa’s a little excited, that’>s all.”

“About what?”

“About you being a big brother.”

“A big brother?” He considers that for a moment. “What’s that?”

“Like Uncle Natsuo,” Shouto explains, his voice thick with emotion. “Or Touya. They’re my big brothers.”

“Oh,” Shouji blinks. “Okay.”

And Shouto laughs, carefree and open, pulling Shouji onto his lap instead.

“More than okay,” he promises. “It will be great.”

- - -

“Momma?” Shouji asks, leaning into you. “Why is her face so weird.”

“She didn’t have much space in there,” you explain, pointing at your belly with your free hand as you cradle the little girl in your other arm. “So she was a little squished in. It will smooth out soon.”

“Oh, okay.” He leans in further, one curious finger booping the tiny nose.

“Hi Shouko,” Shouji whispers. “I’m your big brother.”

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Should I make this part of the Baby Series? Where you can ask for more updates?

Part two is up Baby Series

[anthotneystark]

I wanna reach out and grab ya

(edit: now on ao3!)

In the aftermath, as the dust settles, the world shakes.

He expects it, but it still catches him off balance.

He leans against the ambulance, brushes off Nancy’s comment about him needing medical care. Jonathan gives him a look like he wants to call him out on it, but he lets it go. He’s not sure how long he’s been awake, but he knows that if either of them really pressed him, he’d fold like a paper bag.

You know, easily but with a decent amount of noise.

It’s all he can do to keep upright, using the cool metal door to help. The world doesn’t exactly feel steady, but he took a few hits to the head and he’s sure that’s not helping. There’s a ringing in his ears, his sides ache, his face burns, and he’s not altogether sure how long he’s been awake. He’s sure it’s been somewhere along the lines of too long. He’s not looking forward to going home, not when all he’s got waiting there is a cold, empty house. His parents won’t be back for a few more weeks.

Even if there’s a part of him, a big part if he can admit it, that desperately wants his mom to be there, he’s not going to call and ask for her. He’s supposed to be an adult now, he’s supposed to be growing up, he can’t call for her.

Even if it stings a little, watching other people reuniting with their families.

He loses track of time a little, and is only snapped out of it when he’s dragged into a hug. It’s tight, warm, and so gentle for how fierce it is. He reflexively hugs back before he puts it all together, before he recognizes that it’s Claudia Henderson. She’s saying something, but he can’t really hear it because he’s too busy trying to catch up on what exactly is happening. When she pulls back, she either repeats it or it’s a different question.

Robin answers before he can.

“Yeah, Steve’s gonna stay with me tonight.”

“I am?”

“Yeah, dingus, remember?”

“Right, yeah, I’m staying with her tonight.” Except. “How are we getting to your place? I lost my keys,” he adds.

“Oh, don’t worry about it, I’ll take you,” Claudia says. A godsend, really, always. He’s going to need to get new keys entirely given that his have probably been melted by the fire, but he can’t tell her that.

Robin sticks to his side as they go to the car, her hand slides into his and he holds on tight. He doesn’t let go until they’re in her house, after the quiet car ride where he almost dozed off a dozen times. Her parents are at work, both on the night shift at the moment, so it’s just them. Convenient, given that they’re probably going to wake up screaming at some point. She shoves him into the bathroom first and he uses her strawberry shampoo and doesn’t bother to even attempt anything resembling his usual process for cleaning up.

While she takes her turn, he pulls on the clothes she set out. A Hawkins Band tee shirt that’s a little tight and a pair of gym shorts that are probably bigger than his own. He’s almost dozing when she starts messing with his hair, helping to dry it without him even noticing she’d finished her shower. It’s more a nervous movement than anything, but it feels nice.

“We’re going to need to keep some of your clothes here, you know.”

“Why?”

“So you have something to wear, obviously.”

Obviously. Because he’s going to stay with her sometimes. He should have her clothes at his place too then, even if he’s perfectly willing to let her raid his closet. He likes the idea though, the plan to mesh themselves together already. He’s never had anyone in his life who’s made themselves at home in his heart this quickly.

He’s not sure when he drifts off, when she tugs him the rest of the way onto the bed, when she pulls the blanket up, only distantly feels the way she leans into him, the way he reflexively curls into her.

She feels like she’s always been here with him and he can’t figure out how he lived without her.

----------

Robin is perfect.

Not like, literally, and it’s not the same as when he’d say it about Nancy.

That’s the other thing that he figures out with her. He’s really not in love with Nancy. He’d said it, but it really sinks in later. It sinks in the first time they talk about romance, as he tries to give her flirting advice while she laughs at him and asks if he needs a new whiteboard.

They do mingle their closets too, as planned. She still steals his clothes, and he ends up wearing her tee shirts more than his own. She takes him thrifting and shows him all her secrets and he teaches her the art of negotiation in stores.

(She’s in awe when he talks down a sales clerk over a stain that he then magics away in the laundry room at his house.)

He shows her how he learned to cook and she helps him to get creative with new ideas. She demands the first bite every time, and he’s happy to share it.

Her parents welcome him though. Her mom teaches him more about first aid than he learned lifeguarding, and her dad teaches him more about cars in his spare time. He’d known some, but it’s nice, being taught instead of just figuring things out on his own through trial and error. It doesn’t take long for him to get fully intermingled in the Buckley family and it’s the most love he’s ever felt.

Somewhere between the whiteboard and that first night spent sharing a bed, they become SteveAndRobin. Somewhere between her mom finishing her shift and finding them curled up on the couch watching cartoons (because after being exposed to terrifying monsters and soldiers, cartoons are necessary) and her dad coming home to find all three of them wrapped up in it, he finds out he fits perfectly in this space.

Somewhere between the first family dinner and the start of the school year, he unofficially becomes a Buckley.

Sitting there in the hospital waiting room, collapsed into a chair because he’s never felt this exhausted, with Robin at one side and Dustin at the other, with Erica and Lucas whispering with Nancy, with Eddie and Max in surgery, he feels it all building up. All the feelings he’d tried to push down, the fear and panic and pain, bubbling up to the surface. He’s not really looking where his eyes are aimed, not even paying attention until Robin is forcing his heavy, aching limbs up and toward an empty room. She gives him a look as she leaves him on the bed and he’s not even confused about her leaving him there to go back to the waiting room because it’s better if she stays with Dustin anyway.

Except then the door is opening again, with a familiar and welcome sight stepping in.

And then it’s all too much.

Those emotions bubble over with a half-sobbed “Mom” and then arms are around him, holding him together as he splinters into a million pieces.

His mother smells like expensive perfume, floral and chemical and strong. But Betty Buckley smells like antiseptic and cinnamon and it’s the most comforting smell in the world right then.

She doesn’t question the grime or blood staining his clothes, doesn’t try to get him to tell her what happened, just holds him because he can’t break in front of the kids, can’t let them see how much he’s struggling right now. He needs this, is the thing. He hasn’t really broken down yet because he has to be the strong one, he has to be tough, even if it kills him, but she’s safe. She’s safe enough for him to let go.

She lets him get it all out, and still doesn’t ask anything. It doesn’t really matter, not at the moment, so she just brushes his hair off his forehead, uses a damp cloth to wipe away some of the dirt, helps him to pull on scrubs before halting that process to treat his back and arms and sides and neck. He’s gone a little numb, but she moves quick anyway. And then he’s on his back, an IV hooked into his hand, and she’s pressing a kiss to his forehead and telling him to rest.

So he does.

It’s not a conscious decision, more like he was just waiting for someone to tell him he could.

When he wakes, Robin is in the bed next to him. Dustin is on a rolling cot against the wall. He knows without knowing that Max is down the hall, Lucas and Erica are with her, and Nancy is probably bossing around everyone in that way she does that he can’t help respecting. He doesn’t stay awake long.

----------

He’s going stir crazy.

There’s a lot of mixed feelings. On one hand, he’s slept a lot. On the other, the town is a little broken. Robin and Dustin are volunteering, and he’ll join them when he can get out there, but Richard Buckley is under strict orders to keep him from making an escape. The plant has been temporarily shut down, and he’s a glass half-full kind of guy, but it’s really inconvenient for Steve’s desire to be out of the hospital.

He still loves him though, really.

He finally gets a window when Rich steps out for real food.

(It had been hilarious when he and Robin established their dads are both “Richard”, but while Steve’s dad thinks shortening it sounds ridiculous, Robin’s dad loves to give himself new short names at every opportunity. The week he wanted to go by Chard was a fun week.)

He goes for the door, playing nonchalant, and is dismayed to find someone sitting outside.

“He told me you’d try and escape,” the man says, not looking up from his newspaper.

“I’m not escaping,” he lies.

“Humor me.” The man looks over at him then and Steve has to bite back his surprise. “Huh. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say your last name isn’t Buckley.”

“It’s not.”

“Then why have I been hearing for months about Ritchie’s boy?”

“Technically I am that.”

“Not the right one though.”

“No, but that’s sematics.”

“You’re missing an ‘n’ there, son.” The correction is gentle, carrying the tone of someone who’s used to reminding someone else of little details. For some reason, it doesn’t sting like it did when other people corrected him.

“Right, yeah.”

“You had a bit of blood loss, I hear. Maybe you should lay back down again.”

“I can’t. There’s…people are out there and need help. Other people got hurt worse than me. I can’t just lay here and do nothing.”

“You’re not doing nothing, you’re recovering.”

“I’m fine.”

“Doesn’t sound like you are,” he half mumbles, and god, it’s so familiar it aches.

“I don’t know why you’re focused on keeping me in bed. You of all people should be fine with me going out there to help out.” There’s a beat of silence, where Steve thinks he maybe overstepped, getting just a sigh in return.

“Maybe. But I know damn well how important you are to a friend of mine and he asked for a favor. I’m not about to let him down.”

“Mr. Munson –”

“Wayne.”

“…Wayne. You should go back to Eddie. He needs you more.”

“He’s got a visitor already. I’m not hovering.”

“I think you’re hovering a bit here.”

“Well opinions are like assholes, son. Everyone’s got one.” It’s enough to startle a laugh out of him, as Wayne stands up and ushers him back into the room. He didn’t notice while he was standing there as the pain in his muscles, the itching of the scabs, the exhaustion in his bones, creeps back up on him. He protests, but doesn’t really fight as he’s nudged back into the too firm mattress.

“Get some more rest, kid. Long days are coming, take advantage while you can.”

----------

“I just don’t get it!”

“Is he still talking about this?”

Robin’s groan is the only answer he needs. Dustin, back on his usual arguments after saving the world again, is expanding his hobby. Now he’s not just bugging Steve and Robin about their love life (love lives?), he’s dragging others in on the argument too.

“Dusty-buns, you seem to be awful involved in this,” Eddie teases. “Maybe you have a crush on Robin.” She makes a face, throws a marshmallow at him, and Steve snorts as he cackles.

“No! I just don’t know why they won’t date! Eddie, back me up on this,” Dustin says. “They’re perfect for each other! They laugh at the same jokes, share clothes all the time, and don’t even argue, Steve, I’ve seen her wear your jeans before and you’ve worn her sweaters. They share food with each other, spend all their time together, and they share chapstick!”

“Hey, we don’t spend all our time together! Sometimes I wait for her to bike to my house.”

“Not helping, babe.”

“See!” Dustin is probably seconds from losing his marbles, and Steve really should put him out of his misery, but it’s too funny still.

“You’re missing some key information, boy-genius,” Eddie says.

“Like what?”

“Like the fact that they’re never going to date.”

“That’s what doesn’t make sense!”

“Robin, pass me our chapstick,” Steve says, just to make Dustin a little more insane.

“You had it last. Steven, did you lose our chapstick?”

“I definitely gave it back to you.”

“Here you go,” Eddie says, tossing the little tube to Steve with a grin. Dustin’s eyes dart between the three of them like he’s just gotten new information.

“Eddie. Are you…dating Robin?”

It’s Steve’s turn to groan, and he doesn’t need to look to see the face Robin is making.

“Jesus Christ, Henderson, Eddie is dating me!” Now he’s silent. And Steve is going to panic if he stays silent.

“Huh. That makes a lot of sense. You were weirdly jealous.”

“I was what? No I wasn’t!”

“You kind of were,” Robin adds.

“And it makes sense why you wouldn’t date Robin, who is literally perfect for you.”

“How many times do I have to tell you we’re just friends.”

“Yeah, and I could be literally perfect for him, pipsqueak,” Eddie says, grabbing one of Robin’s marshmallows to throw at him.

“You and Robin are still weirdly codependent, it has to be said,” Dustin insists, batting away Eddie’s attempts to ruffle his hair.

“Yeah, well, that’s what happens when you get psychically linked to each other. Get used to it, Henderson.”

“You’re what?!” Eddie and Dustin’s voices overlap, but they’re both drowned out by his and Robin’s laughter.

Their expressions alone are worth the lecture they’re going to get about keeping secrets.

[prollywolly]

hiii I was wondering if you could write how the jjk men would be in the shower with you?👀

Showers with the JJK Men

summary: what taking a shower with the jjk men would be like [includes: gojo satoru, kento nanami, choso, suguru geto, ryomen sukuna]

warnings: mdni! mentions of shower sex, obviously being in the nude, language, fluff, 18+, smut (lots of dirty words lolol), and fluff!

word count: 2k

a/n: hooray for my first request!! i absolutely loved writing this and i hope everyone can see this in their heads the way i did when i was thinking of what they would all be like! Remember that my requests are open and you’re more than welcome to ask anything that’s within the guidelines posted on my page! i hope you all enjoy, thank you for reading!! <3

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

gojo:

showers with gojo are 50/50

they’re either very sensual and domestic, filled with nothing more than whispering sweet nothings into each others ears while you let the warm water wash the suds off your bodies

or they’re absolutely filthy and make you feel like you need another shower by the time he’s done with you.

gojo can be easy to read when he comes home only because of how clingy he is with you

it’s always been pretty easy to read him in your relationship because he makes it known how much he loves being babied by you and/or taking care of you

on a night where he’s exhausted and really just needs you to wash his hair for him and kiss the boo boos away, he’ll be more than happy to tell you.

“such a long day baby… i’m too lazyyyyyy to shower.”

you’re already getting the warm water going.

he’s like putty in your hands the second that your nails start to lather up that shampoo onto his scalp. 

he’s fallen asleep a couple times sitting on the floor of the shower while you just finish rinsing his hair and body off.

he loves when you use your body wash on his skin because he loves curling up in bed knowing that he smells like you.

“thank you baby, what would i do without you?”

he really doesn’t wanna think about the answer to that question.

then, there’s the days where satoru can’t keep his hands off you from the moment he steps through the door.

“c’mere baby, missed you s’much,” 

he then proceeds to fuck you against the glass door of your shower and it’s so obscene it looks like it’s straight out of a porno

the warm water splashes onto the glass and cascades down with each flick of his hips

you always have to brace yourself on the glass and end up unconsciously creating that all-too-familiar steamy handprint that ends up staying on the glass even after the steam from the water clears

shower sex with gojo is always so rough only because he’s pent up from everything that happened during the day and it’s the first time he gets to release everything

“y’feel good pretty girl? tell me how it feels, yeah?”

y’all waste so much water, the water bill looks CRAZY every month 

nanami: 

HUSBANDDDDD UGHHHHHH

we all know how hard working and dedicated kento is

although he does love showering with you when you guys need to get ready quickly for your day…

he much prefers to take long soaks with you in your bathtub to wind down after a long day much more.

you guys have so many scented bubble bath solutions, vanilla and coconut scented body washes that you like to caress into each others skin, it’s truly so raw and vulnerable

kento will never turn down bath time.

there’s been days where he works himself to the bone and is so exhausted, but knowing that you’ll have the bath ready for him when he comes home is the only thing that seems to make him push even further

as a gag gift one christmas, you got kento a small removable table to hook onto each side of the porcelain that had small sections for your laptop, some snacks, and his occasional glass of wine

he genuinely uses it every time and will never let you live down the “best gift he’s ever received”

on the most trying of days, he loves having you on top of him, letting yourself slowly sink onto his cock and just bury your face into his neck

your insides feel just as warm as the bubbly water you two are surrounded in and he finds solace in the jolts of pleasure he gets whenever he slightly adjusts himself in the tub

riding him softly in the tub is his guilty pleasure 

he loves the domesticity and vulnerability of fucking his lover while you share a bath

he’s a family man through and through

the sorcerer job and corporate job are endured, to be able to provide for a family in the future, but for now?

everything is for you. He loves coming home to you every single day and being able to see you waiting for him so eagerly <3 

choso: 

choso works so hard to be the best brother and family member that he can be

family-oriented was invented after examining his dynamic and his role in his family

but even the strongest need their time to wind down.

which is exactly what showers are for.

being a curse, choso finds domesticity and humanity in the intimate things he shares with you

showers are his times to just turn off his brain and let you work your magic

you take such good care of him, he doesn’t know what he would do without you

the way you tenderly lather his scalp with the shampoo and conditioner, the way you take your time to wash his body and massage his aches from the day

sometimes he thinks about the family he wants to create with you in those moments, and those are the moments where he wakes up from his trance and pounces on you.

one second you’re washing the suds off his body, the next you’re pressed up against the shower wall as he viciously pounds you from behind.

he’ll turn you around to face him while he fucks you only because he can see the future of his bloodline in your eyes 

you take him so well, never ever complain about how full he stuffs you of himself

“takin’ me so well, love… gonna fuck a pretty baby into you, hm?”

he’ll grit his teeth and hiss as he pumps his cum inside of you, watching some of it trickle down your inner thighs as they quiver and buckle from the loss of his cock 

and then he’ll go right back to wanting to be babied

as you get out of the shower, the two of you will get dressed and he’ll throw himself on top of you

you’ll caress his freshly washed hair and he relishes in the scent of the body wash you use, fully aware that not even two minutes ago you were taking his dick like a slut

he’s so ready to start a family with you, and to still share moments like these even when you’re old and gray.

suguru:

showers with suguru are a taste of the finer things in life

he’s so gentle with you once you’re both under the water

his long locks will cascade down his shoulders, dripping as he caresses your arms and shoulders

“‘ts okay darling, i’m here.” 

he loves to run his fingers through your hair after he applies the conditioner

his fingers just slide through so effortlessly and he obsesses over the soft sighs that fall from those pretty candied lips of yours

nonetheless, the appreciation for running fingers through hair goes both ways 

washing suguru’s hair for the first time made you fall in love with him all over again

he’ll shut his eyes and throw his head back as you gently lather the products into his hair

he has a pine scented shampoo and conditioner scent that give him such a manly, musky scent

it’s intoxicating

suguru is always so tense, always overthinking about everything from the day

showers used to be a privilege with you two

now?

they’re daily requirements.

he’s always visibly more relaxed after a nice shower, throwing his long hair into an easy bun as he cuddles up with you in bed

it always leads to soft sex

he affirms his love with each calculated stroke, making sure to dig his hips into you just so you can feel how much he yearns to be inside you; to love you.

you’ll brush the stray hairs that fall from his bun and he’ll press his lips to yours and swallow your gorgeous moans, drinking them like the finest wine money can buy

suguru will never be able to shower without you

and you’re both more than okay with that. 

sukuna: 

showers with sukuna used to be unheard of

keyword: used.

the first time you showered with sukuna was very much like walking on eggshells

you weren’t afraid of him, per say, but more afraid to do something that he wouldn’t like.

his stoic personality was still mighty as ever, a permanent smirk resting on his face as he watched you begin to wash yourself

it started with you gently tracing the black markings on his back with your index finger

he was turned to face the water, washing the shampoo out of his hair when he felt the small tickle of your fingernails tracing his skin

goosebumps rose on his skin despite the piping hot water that fell over the both of you

he stood up taller and you were sure that you had fucked up

you remained silent and went back to washing yourself, but sukuna was never going to let himself admit that he missed your touch

he prayed and prayed to himself that you’d test your luck again, pretending to wash some soap out of his eye nearly six times before he’d finally gotten fed up

“can you just hurry up and do it again?!”

you’ve never been more confused in your life.

“d-do what ‘kuna?”

sukuna grumbled to himself before grabbing your hand and placing it firmly on the black ink sprawled across his chest

you looked up at him and couldn’t quite make out the look he was giving you, but you knew exactly what he wanted from you

once more, your finger danced over the ink softly and left sukuna sighing with relief

“...feels good.”

little by little, you made your way up to being able to wash his hair and body, through trial and error of course

but sukuna will never ever get over the way you touch him so benign. he’s the king of curses, a mass murderer, yet here he was crumbling beneath your touch like a weakling

“if you’re gonna do it, do it right,”

he’s just a spoiled brat underneath that harsh exterior, but you knew how to crack him

[em-writes-stuff-sometimes]

OMG no way are you going to write an AU of Daemon's visions at Harrenhal??? I know its AAAAAGES away from where you are in the current story but desperate hos wanna kno ;)

Ask, and ye shall receive!

until i bleed myself dry

Note: This is technically using the characters/characterisation I have established in my terms of endearment series, but really you only need to know that the Reader is Rhaenyra's younger sister and that, instead of marrying Laena, he spent a decade ho-ing it up in Pentos before coming home and getting dazzled by his niece before deciding to wife dat gurl.

WARNING: Please note this is dark, dark stuff. Discretion is advised. Please use your judgement wisely before engaging.

Triggers: graphic depictions of violence, violence against children, character d*ath, MAJOR hallucinations, sexual scenes including visibly underaged character/s.

There is something fucking wrong with this place.

Daemon feels like a skittish child as he withdraws to his chambers, covers drawn up to his neck like the fabric will keep away the very worst of midnight evils. He does not know if the steady drip, drip, drip he hears is in his head or if the stone ceiling is cracked enough to let through the rain. Knowing Harrenhal, he would hardly be surprised by the latter. Still, the noise only serves to speed the racing of his thoughts, turning them fearful as he has not felt since the weakness of his youth.

In this moment, he curses his own doings. If he had stayed his hand—if he had held his tongue—the boy would not be dead, and mayhaps you would not be so wroth with him. He would not be alone in this shithole of a keep a world away, chilled to the bone and miserable as he thinks of you warm and safe in your bed with the children. Without him.

When he finally falls asleep, he dreams.

He knows it is a dream, for he can hear your humming. Soft, sweet, the kind of tune you sing to Daeryx after one of his tantrums. His head lifts from the pillow and he finds himself back in your shared rooms on Dragonstone, eyes finding you in the chair by the hearth. Your hair, unbound, shines like molten amber in the firelight, swaying softly as you tend to business that is concealed from his gaze. Enthralled, he rises, making his way to you.

Drip, drip, drip.

He pauses. That sound… it doesn’t belong here. He calls your name. You ignore him. He moves closer, tentative.

“Come look,” you murmur suddenly, startling him. “Come, kepus.”

His feet move unbidden, out of his control.

Bile pools at the back of his throat, gut curdling at the sight of the boy—the boy—cradled in your lap. You and he are wet with blood, and it drip, drip, drips to the floor, echoing eerily. His eyes are open, face petrified, and Daemon realises that the dark at his neck is not in fact a shadow but a gaping wound, made jagged by the weapon used.

You look up at him, skin shining with sweat and expression exultant. “Look at him, kepus. Look at what you made.”

Memory flashes—he brings his son back down to rest beside his daughter on your lap, two moonshine miracles side by side. “Look at them, kepus,” you whisper, spellbound. “Look at what we made”—and his lungs constrict. You make to lift the child up, but the movement jostles his head off its perch, and it rolls to the ground to stop by his feet. He cannot move. He is frozen, horrified.

You smile, tucking the headless corpse under your chin. Gore pulses against your throat as your chin settles to the yawning maw of the child’s open neck. You rock in your seat, a faint squelch each time your shifting weight disturbs the sodden cushion beneath you.

“I love him,” you whisper, lips pressing to where flesh meets innards. Your mouth comes away red. “I love him so much.”

Daemon awakens with a yell. He swallows once, twice, and then—

He leans over the side of the bed, retching violently. When it is over, he curls up on his side, shaking, staring at his hands. They are wet with blood.

It does not take long for terror to settle in his bones like a longtime companion. It follows him each day, in every waking moment, manifesting in strange visions that he knows—he knows—must be untrue, cannot possibly be real, and yet… And yet. There is a sort of verity in them.

Dark Sister feels like a leaden weight at his hip as he stalks the keep, a reminder of his earlier encounter with Rhaenyra. Only she was not the Rhaenyra he knows, and instead a strange sort of blend of child-queen, the face of the girl peering out accusingly from under her father’s too-large crown, exclaiming all manner of hurt as she stepped from the Iron Throne upon which she perched.

“You put me on that throne. And you love me, and you hate me for it. You created me, Daemon. Yet you are now set on destroying me. All because your brother loved me more than he did you.”

And, without warning, he had taken his blade up in arms and struck off her head, a puppet on strings pulled by another. As her body fell, it morphed into the boy again. Jaehaerys. The child he had murdered. He heard your humming even while Simon Strong’s voice filtered through his unconscious mind, alerting him of the raven that just arrived.

The healer woman’s concoctions have helped little. He still wakes to strange noises, still finds himself stalking after his monstrous one-eyed nephew down the halls, only to find that it is himself he is pursuing. He hears the words you yelled at him in that last great quarrel— “get away, leave before you turn on us and murder us like you murdered that boy”—interspersed with the sound of your screams, and perhaps they are the screams you let out when birthing his children, or perhaps they are screams of a different kind, a version of himself making good on the implication of your words, steel in hand and pursuing his love, his life, his blood—

These figments blur with reality to the point that he becomes unsure of what is before him and what exists only in his head to haunt him. He comes to dread the resting hours, only to find their horrors bleeding into daylight. Whatever strange power has come to roost in his mind serves only to bring him torment.

Perhaps this is why he is not immediately suspicious when he comes face-to-face with you once more.

You stand by the window, the dim light filtering weakly over your bare form. Your back is to him, curls spilling to brush the tops of your buttocks. Their gentle sway—the barest kiss to your skin—is tantalising, and his mouth dries even as he watches your neck crane, sly smile tossed back over your shoulder at him.

“Daemon,” you beckon. Like a cuntstruck fool, he is helpless to resist the call.

His hands settle to the familiar divots of your waist, up and up and up to cup the fullness of your tits. You lean into him, a quiet huff of pleasure escaping as his fingers squeeze and his lips fall unbidden to the slope of your jaw. He inhales deeply, stirred even now by the simplicity of your scent, a throbbing line straight to his groin. You turn in his hold, nose nuzzling against his chin.

“You were right,” you say, eyes shining. “You were always right.”

He is under some enchantment, surely, for he is incapable of coherent speech. All he can do is feel the satisfaction heat his veins, allow it to tug at the corner of his mouth. I knew it, he thinks. I knew her will would bend eventually.

You speak still, even as he backs you toward the bed. “Papa was weak. Rhaenyra is weak. Only you are the true blood of the dragon.”

You shift backward onto the mattress, legs parting invitingly. The split of you opens, revealing flushed folds and the teasing glimmer of want, shining slick for his hungered gaze.

“Fearless”—your hand trails down your belly, fingers tracing around your pearl—“brave”—you venture lower, pressing teasingly at your cunt, your lip caught between your teeth—“strong.”

Daemon drops to his knees before you, tongue licking through the spill and catching on your finger. He bullies it out of the way, arms locking around your thighs as he gluts himself on the sweet tang of you, senses clouding and narrowing to a singular point of existence. You grip his hair, the arches of your feet digging against his back.

“It is not my place to question you,” you breathe, twisting and writhing with his ministrations. He watches your face, enraptured by the toss of your head and the shape of your lips as they form moan after moan. Your release is quick, a final sobbing yelp followed by a flood of slick warmth. When your eyes reopen, they are blazing with reverence. Reverence for him. Your knees flex up, your lower half folded almost to your chest. Your cunt contracts, fluttering like the wings of a butterfly. “I live to serve you, my king.”

His head feels heavy as he rises just barely to crawl over you. He frowns. When he lifts his hand to extricate yours from his hair, he finds not flesh, but cool metal. A crown.

“My king,” you coo below him.

Your surroundings are changed. It is not the meagre offerings of Harrenhal that frame you now, but the sumptuous trimmings of the king’s chambers in the Red Keep, only brighter, more lavish than they ever have been. Jewels sparkle at your throat, in your hair, at your wrists. The sheets are molten gold against your silver-pale, and you wind your hips up at him provocatively, catching his cockhead against your opening.

“You belong on the throne, husband,” you say, fist closing around his shaft and pumping once, twice. You lead him back to the core of you, nudging him just inside. “Uncle. My love. And I belong at your side—at your feet—under your body.”

“My queen,” he gasps, driving forward with a grunt, and oh, he has missed you, missed this, missed the clutch of your walls like a mother’s embrace and the sound of your breathy cries as he plunges deep. Plunges home.

“My king,” you call out, rising into him with unrestrained abandon, precious gems clinking frantically with each fevered hitch of his hips against yours. “My lord. My master. I was made for you.”

“Yes…”

“Chain me to this bed, my king.” Your spine arches toward him, hands grabbing for his own and leading them above your head. He takes this for the encouragement it is, pinning your wrists to the pillow and rutting harder. You shout, elbows flexing to no avail. “Give to me my purpose. Give me your heirs.”

He is helpless to stop the noises escaping his mouth, feral and uninhibited, fucking with near painful intent. You take it all, curving yourself deeper, holding yourself more open so that he may lay claim to his conquest. As only a king can.

“And when I have birthed one,” you say, though now it is more a prolonged keening sound, “give me another. Never stop. Oh! Make me—make me take it—”

He does not know if he is imagining it or if it is happening before his eyes, but he can see it: ruling the Seven Kingdoms, sitting the Iron Throne the way his brother never could, striding down the halls of the keep as the commons bow and scrape to their sovereign, bursting into his chambers after small council to find his queen, to find you where you always are, naked in his bed and belly round and leaking milky white between your thighs, for it is his kingly law that the only part you play here is this, waiting for him to find you and fuck you and fill you and keep you, his little niecewifequeenpet—

He snarls, pulsing and burning. You squeal as he pushes past onslaught and straight to violence, bodies colliding so forcefully that his bones ache and his brain feels like jelly wobbling in his skull. What leaves his mouth can only be bestial in nature now. “I’ll make you—”

“Yes, make me take it until I cannot. Until my cunt is ruined by you.” He feels his end rushing up with every word you wail, his joints locking and grinding and gut roiling with the anticipation of it. “Until my womb is destroyed. Until I bleed myself dry, my king. Only for you.”

“Wha—”

The horror of it escapes him, for it is too late: the release crashes on him like a tidal wave, shoving him below its surface and imprisoning him in its current. He makes a noise like a wounded boar, chasing through the high despite the alarm in his mind, so at odds with the soaring rhythm in his loins.

You laugh, tilting welcomingly to receive him. “Make me bleed, my king. Make me bleed like my mother.”

It is enough to chill the heat in his blood to ice, destroying any semblance of enjoyment. But he cannot stop the unsteady eking out of what remains of his peak. He tries, but he cannot stop.

“No,” he says, a contradiction to the enthusiasm of his flesh prison. “No, no, I cannot. No—”

“What do you mean?” you ask, a strange quality to it. A duality. It crystallises into something comprehensible with every word that comes from your lips. All at once, it is not your voice he hears, but something much higher, younger, blending and overlapping with the cadence he recognises. “You already have.”

He looks down as he makes his final groaning thrusts, only to feel his stomach drop through the floor. Your thighs are soaked in blood, his cock sluicing a path through it all the while. All that flesh covered in red, and he glances up, only to see that you are gone, you are replaced by someone so small, so frightfully small, and he realises you are not replaced, it is you, but it is a you he has not seen for well over ten years, eyes wide and frightened and gleaming like game stuck through by an arrow and taking its final breath.

Daemon rears back, but it is too late. You begin to cry. A dark patch spreads out from underneath your broken body, from where he had torn your fragile opening apart. What have I done? he thinks.

“It hurts, kepus,” you say. “It hurts.”

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out, fixed to stillness by revulsion. “I’m sorry. I never meant to—”

“But you did,” you insist, childish pout despite your obvious agony.

Your hands reach out, and he leans away, too horrified to touch you—and he doesn’t know if it is you or he that he is more afraid of in this moment—but you are not searching through the air for him, no. Instead, a bundled weight is settled in them, and you bring it into the crook of your arms, gripping it as though it is the most precious of objects. You smooth the fabric from the top of it to reveal a tiny head of silver hair. The babe gurgles and roots at your flat chest, absurd and awful.

“This is what you wanted,” you say, eyes filled with betrayal. “Am I going to die now, kepus?”

Your Grace…

He shakes his head, but he is no fool. You are too little to withstand the sheer volume of blood you have lost if the bedding is anything to go by. He feels it stain his legs. He feels it drying on his cock.

“Your Grace?”

“I will, though. I’m too young. You’ve killed me.” The babe begins to suckle, and you cry harder. Your body isn’t built for this task, not yet, not like this. He wants to protest, to tell you that this is not his work, cannot be, for he has and would never do something so foul, so wholly inhuman, that the you he has gotten with child has only ever been a woman grown, but it is like you know his thoughts for you scoff and say, “You’re lying to yourself. I was always too young. You just refused to see it.”

He stares down at you, immobile, unable to even think. The metallic scent of your life leaving you fills the air, floods his nostrils with stinging heat.

“… Your Grace?”

Daemon jolts, blinking. Ser Simon Strong looks back at him. “Is the duck not to your liking, Your Grace?”

All at once, you are gone. The king’s chambers are gone. He is not even within his dank chambers at Harrenhal. Instead, he sits at the table in what passes for the dining hall here, a plate full of food steaming before him. The smell makes him ill.

“There’s also goose, if you’d prefer…”

He swallows, trying to ground himself in the present. Voices waft all around him, but he finds it difficult to pay attention.

“I’m not hungry,” he says shortly. It sounds stronger than he feels.

A pause, and then—

Simon clears his throat, turning to his companions. “I was saying, given the rather dire news…”

Daemon tries to concentrate. He does. He knows the others are speaking of matters of utmost importance. Of  Rook’s Rest, of his nephew, of the war. But his mind can only turn over his encounter—his vision? His nightmare? Or is it merely truth finally unveiled to unworthy eyes?—with you, the last of your words haunting him near to madness.

“I was always too young. You just refused to see it.”

He has grown restless here, revolving between the frustration of securing an army from those who see naught in him but the very worst and the torment of these terrible visions that seek him out at their pleasure, heedless of his duty or desire. Tedium or terror—when he is entrenched in one, he wishes for the other, and there is always a sick sort of irony in the granting of said wishes. In truth, he is able enough to tolerate the resistance of these riverlanders, insulting as it is. The phantasms that pursue him have almost become too much to bear.

What is worse? The accusations from the mouth of a juvenile Rhaenyra, full of admonishments for the way he’d so thoroughly undermined her claim before she ever got the right to exercise it? The condemnations from Viserys, a retracing of steps trod so long ago, brought to life once more and forcing Daemon to relive the very worst of his brother? The boy’s laughter darting through the stone halls, an ominous prelude to the sickening sound of steel sawing through skin and the rolling of his head, landing always at the feet of the one responsible for his fate?

They are all bad enough as they are, but for the simple fact that they do not surprise him. Monster, they call him, and he wears the name well. In most all aspects, he is a monster. But never has he thought himself monstrous to you.

He has come to despise the sight of you here, sometimes docile and worshipful, sometimes angered and raving. Sometimes you appear as a siren come to lure him to iniquity, and like a fool he always falls into the trap. Other times, you are battered, caged, a shell of yourself. No matter how it begins, the end is always the same: bloodied, beaten, fading from the world, and it is always his hands he finds the cause of it in. A new reminder every time of all the ways he has thought of taking you, owning you, keeping you. Always, he thinks to save you—to protect you. Always, he destroys you.

Just as he thinks himself finally driven to the edge of all reason, the Rivers woman beckons him to the godswood.

“When you came here,” she says, “you were a closed fist. You wished to bend the world to your will. But you’ve discovered, I think, that… this world will not be governed. There are omens here for those who seek them.”

She pauses. The air seems to whisper, to creak in the dark. Daemon suppresses the urge to shiver. Her eyes move to him, an odd little quirk to her mouth. Amusement, he thinks. Or pity.

“You do not scoff?” she asks.

How can he, after all he has seen here? He has been brought to the very edge of sanity by these omens. What irony, it is, after the great complaints he has made of superstition in past weeks (and months, and years).

“I’m no longer inclined to,” is his short reply.

She laughs. “I’m pleased to hear it.”

She stops before the heart tree and turns to him, expression solemn.

“Do you wish, then, to learn what is given to you?” The answer must lie in his face, for he cannot do anything but stare, silent, tense. “All your life, you have sought to command your own fate”—she takes his hand—“but today, you are ready.”

Gentle pressure at his wrist, and something in him knows to move past her, to take those final few steps so that he is close enough to make out the details of the face carved into the wood. His arm raises by itself, acting on its own power, or perhaps some higher power, his fingers brushing bark and the hot pulse of… blood? But he has no time to truly question it for—

He is flying—

No—

He is a raven, staring at the face of a pale-haired man with a wine-dark stain on his face and he flies into the forest, towards an army, only there is something wrong with the soldiers, they are blue and their eyes glow ice-cold and their breath is frosted with death and their bodies carry the look of corpses stood upright once more—

And then the dragons are dead, all of them, the ground wet not with water but with blood and he walks through it, falls straight into the ground and he is drowning, steel plate armour dragging him down into the depths and he looks up at the sky—

A red comet bursts through the air, hot like fire, and he sees eggs embroiled in flame, a girl sat in ash cradling the bodies of three newly-hatched dragons, a whisper of a memory on the air, “we are the only ones able to bring the fire to life… It is the secret”—

And he is before the Iron Throne, suddenly silent.

Rhaenyra stands before the seat. Viserys’s crown is in his hands. She moves toward him, down the stairs of the throne. He hears her speak.

“From my blood…”

But she does not finish. A roaring conflagration engulfs her and she screams, twisting and warping before him, burning, only not, because you step from the flames, unburnt, voice mingling with that of your sister’s, a haunting echo.

“… come the Prince Who Was Promised…”

You are before him, taking the crown from his grasp and retracing the steps your sister took, and then you are stepping over a charred body, Rhaenyra, oh gods, and ascending the steps. You sit. You lift the crown. You place it on your head.

“… and his shall be the song of ice and fire.”

He is on his knees now, right on that final step at your feet. He feels the warmth of you as you bend forward, your palm caressing his jaw. You look otherworldly in the shadow, backlit silver and gold and wearing a king’s accoutrements far better than any of your predecessors.

“You know what must happen now, Uncle,” you say gently, kindly. “You know what you must do.”

He bows his head to kiss your ring—the seal of the king—no, the queen—and then wind is whistling in his ears, chilling him to the bone and spraying his hair about wildly, so much so that he can barely hear the words yelled at him by the boy sitting astride Vhagar.

“You have lived too long, nuncle.”

—and he wrenches away, panting, body collapsing before the heart tree like a puppet with its strings cut. The world comes back to him in fragments: the scent of dirt and woodlands, the sharp sting of cold, the ache in his muscles that has since settled like sludge at the bottom of a river, ever-present and persisting. Finally, finally, he withdraws with hands washed clean, free of his many sins.

At last, he has come to the crux of it. At last, he understands.

He sits at the base of the tree, stunned and overcome, as faint words slither on the breeze, a final knell from the liminal space of prophecy. Your name. A cheer.

“Long live the queen! Long live the queen!”

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[sturnsdarling]

pls pls pls make a fic of either matt or chris where they love cockwarming and beg you everynight to do it or sumthin

"lemme jus' put it in"

mini blurbs of cockwamring, one for Chris and one for Matt.

vibe check: smut (cockwamring, obviously), Chris' one is lowk unrealistic but i love it anyway, biting (i have a thing if you couldn't tell from all my other work), pet names, praise all the stuff we love

A/N: this was so much fun to think up honestly, send me more prompts!!!

love and cigs, merc

Matt; sometimes he's too tired to fuck, but he misses your pussy when he's not inside it.

"jus' lemme sleep with it inside of you, angel, please?" Matt pulled you close against his chest, kneading at the flesh of your stomach as he pressed his hard cock into your ass.

"Matt" you chuckled, "you were just telling me about how tired you were, and now you wanna fuck?" you pressed back into him, unable to stop yourself.

Matt shook his head, "not fuck, pretty girl, I jus' miss your pussy so much when I'm working all day n'I need it" he whined into your skin, pressing wet kisses over your shoulder.

"you just wanna put it in?" you craned your neck round, raking your hands through his hair slightly.

"mhm, and then I can fall asleep with you in my arms n' my dick nice and warm in that perfect pussy of yours" Matt nodded, eyes fluttering closed.

You smiled at him, placing a soft kiss on his nose before turning fully to face him, wrapping one leg around his waist and pulling him into a soft kiss. Matt whimpered into the kiss, dragging his hand down to pump his leaking cock, swiping it through your folds as your position gave him the perfect angle. You arched into him, biting down on his lip slightly as he teased your soaked hole with his throbbing tip. He used his hand to spread your ass apart, using the other to slowly insert himself inside of you, needing nothing other than your sticky juices to slide in.

His whole body relaxed at the feeling as he bottomed out, pressing his cock deep into your pussy with a blissful groan, a sound you echoed with a small whimper.

Matt pushed himself as deep into you as possible with a grunt, "your pussy was made for me, my pretty girl" he said, wrapping his arms around you tight as he leant his head down onto yours.

"feels so good inside me, Matt" you whined, nestled into him and desperate to move.

Matt chuckled and pressed a long kiss into the top of your head, one hand still wrapped tight around your waist as the other came down to palm the flesh of your ass, kneading over your thigh occasionally as it draped over him.

"I could stay like this forever" he whispered sleepily, his dick twitching inside you every so often in response to you clenching around him.

You hummed, tracing circles on his chest with your finger, slowly relaxing into Matt. The sting of him sliding into you had subsided, and all you could focus on was the blissful stretch of your pussy around him, sucking him in like a vice. Your walls were warm around him, lulling him to sleep as he played with the flesh of your thighs like a fidget toy.

Within moments, Matt was asleep, and you weren't far behind. There was something so comforting about having him inside you like this, tucked between your walls as you curled up on his chest. You barely moved all night, and if you did, your movements were met with a boyish whine and Matts grip tightening around you.

At some point during the night, you had slipped out his grip to go to the toilet, managing to leave the room without waking him up, or so you thought.

When you ducked back into bed, you were pulled into Matts chest with brute force, his hard dick pressed against the flesh of your ass once more as he whined in your ear.

"where'd you go?" he mumbled, eyed still closed.

you chuckled, reaching down in between the two of you to pump his length, "I just went to pee, Matt"

he hummed, nestling his head down into the crook of your neck, "need you around me, pretty girl" his words were barely coherent, you weren't even sure if he was actually awake.

His hand dipped down between your thighs and rubbed slow, tired circles against your clit as you pumped his length between your sticky folds.

You moaned softly as he rubbed soft circles over your puffy clit, thrusting his cock into your hand, begging to be back inside of you. You granted him his wish, pushing his leaking cock back into your warm pussy with a soft, tired moan. Matt lightly bit down on your shoulder as he bottomed out, soothing the sting with a short kiss as he pulled you into him desperately close, nestling his cock snug in your pussy.

Before you could react to the sensation of him stretching you out, coupled with the tingling feeling his slow circles on your clit were igniting throughout your body, he was asleep again, and after shifting slightly to get comfortable once more, so were you.

Chris; he needs you, and it doesn't matter where you are.

You and Chris were tucked away in a dark corner of a house party that neither of you really wanted to be at, the music thumping against your skulls. Chris couldn't keep his hands off you, the sight of you in your pretty little outfit was driving him insane, and all he could think about was being nestled in your warm, slick walls.

"come on, baby, please?" Chris tugged at your thigh, his tone whiny but his grip bruising.

"Chris, we're literally in the middle of a party that you dragged me to, I did say we could have just stayed at home" You rolled your eyes at him, placing a firm hand over his as you glared at him.

"I know but, jus - come on" he whined, moving his hand up your bare thigh, pressing his thumb into the flesh with his bottom lip tucked between his lips, "you look so good in this skirt and I jus- I need it"

You chuckled, involuntarily opening your legs to give him better access to you. You loved Chris like this, normally he was so cool and collected, but right now, in the middle of a party he 'had to be at' he was desperate for you.

"do you wanna go home?" you asked, shifting closer to him and placing your leg over his.

His breath hitched at the pressure of your leg against his, he shook his head, looking down at where your soft thigh rested over his leg, "can't, baby, I need to stay, need t'show my face, remember?"

"so, what do you wanna do?" you batted your lashes at him, knowing exactly what he wanted.

He grunted at the sight of you even looking at him, his jeans getting tighter around his crotch as you dipped your head to the crook of his neck to pepper soft kisses long his skin. "you know what I want, stop teasing me"

You chuckled against his skin, lifting yourself up so you were planted firmly on his lap. A low groan left Chris' throat at the friction of your bare ass under your skirt against his jeans. His hands found the flesh of your hips instantly, pressing bruises into you as he attempted to grind you down onto him. Your back was pressed into his chest as you slid your hand behind you. Your fingers fiddled with the button on his jeans as he watched intently, unable to take his eyes off your hand as you gained access to his throbbing cock from between the two of you.

As your hand wrapped around him, Chris sucked all the air around him in through his teeth, his head rocking back on its hinge before he let it fall forward onto your shoulder. You chuckled at his neediness, pumping him a few times behind you before shifting slightly to raise your hips just above his. Luckily, the party was packed, and no one could see the two of you, let alone care enough to pay attention to what you were doing. You dragged his leaking tip through your soaked folds a few times, spreading your wetness across yourself.

"you're so wet, baby, you want me that bad? huh?" Chris whispered into your skin.

Your eyes fluttered at the feeling of him bucking his hips up, pressing his tip into your sopping hole momentarily, "lets not talk about who wants who badly, yeah, Christopher?" you quipped back, lowering yourself down onto him at an agonising pace.

"oh, fuck" Chris bit down on your shoulder at the sensation of your warm pussy clenching around him as he bottomed out.

"stay jus' like that, princess, jus' like that" he was stuttering, his head spinning at your gummy walls being wrapped around him like this in public.

You whimpered at the feeling of him stretching you out, desperate to move but knowing that this is all he wanted; to be completely inside of you, a sign of his desperation for you and a silent marking of territory at this ridiculous party.

His cock was nestled inside your walls, throbbing at the sensation of your slick pussy around him, leaking pre-cum inside you as you attempted to get comfortable, trying to look as un-obvious as possible.

"you're so fuckin' tight, feel s'good around me like this, baby, so warm n' tight around me" Chris was rambling, whispering nonsense in your ear as he tried to collect his thoughts off the floor.

His grip on your hips was nearly painful, his fingers pressing bruises into your skin deeper every time you clenched around him.

You stayed like that for hours, Chris remaining rock hard inside your pussy, refusing to let you get off of him for anything, completely obsessed with the way you felt around him.

taglist: @sturniozalt@mattslolita@shaquilles-0atmeal@blahbel668@sleepysturniolo@le4hsblog @sarosfilms @joemamaaa42069 @2muchofaslvt @seluky10

[makethemhoesmad]

sleeping beauty

@cjrights horndog extraordinaire

paige bueckers x reader

SMUT

—

“baby?” i tear my eyes away from paige’s bare, toned stomach, instead bringing my face towards hers.

“mhm?” i mumble back, pulling a blanket over the two of us and resting my head on her shoulder.

“what movie d’you wanna watch?” she says, turning her face into my hair and nuzzling my head.

“i don’t know, you pick darling. i’m tired” with that, i snuggle closer into her. i hear the tv turn on, and feel the heavy weight of her arm over me. i’m just drifting off, when paige pulls me onto her lap.

“hey princess, want you to ride my thigh while you fall asleep.” she pulls my shorts and panties off, then moves both of her hands to my hips. 

“alright ma, all you gotta do is sit here and look all pretty and tired while i help you out” she starts to move me against her thigh, and i feel my head loll back. leaving my eyes closed, im nearly drifting in that space between being awake and asleep. the high of the climax im reaching barely feels real, more like a dream.

“cmon mama, ride that shit for me. s’pretty, all for me.”

i spasm against her leg, my head rolling back even further. paige continues to move me over her leg. i push my face into her neck, whimpering. i can barely keep my eyes open and she’s still going.

“you’ve got it baby, gimme one more, then i’ll bring you to bed, spoil you so good tomorrow, just one more.”

i cry out into her skin, climaxing again. i wrap my legs around her waist, trying desperately to stay awake for a few moments longer.

“i’ve got you ma, you go to sleep” that’s all

i need to hear.

i wake up nearly suffocated by blonde hair and almost 6 feet of muscle. paige is positioned directly on top of me, and has me wrapped up in her arms. not that i’m complaining. her warmth lulls me back to sleep, as my body remembers my exhaustion from earlier.

the next time i wake up, there’s no warm body resting on top of me. in fact, there’s no one but me in this bed. just as i move to stand up and look for paige, she comes out of what seems to be nowhere and scoops me into her arms.

“it’s nearly one in the afternoon, sleeping beauty!”

i groan, pressing my face into her chest, trying to indicate id like to spend the whole day in bed. i think she gets the message, because she sets me back down, and curls up right along with me.

“damn, i love you, sleepy girl”

“i love you too paigey”