#LITTLE BABY LOLLY | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

gilverrwrites · 2 months

Text

Summer Loving

Ft. Bruce, Dick, Jason, Roy, & Tim.

AN: Have a lot of lengthy and/or smutty wips on the go atm and I can feel them bogging me down a bit, so I decided to take a break and work on some short summer themed slice of life/domestic fluff to cleanse my palate. I feel I must apologise for my gratuitous and obvious Roy Harper thirst but I wont, enjoy!

CWs: Some are more suggestive than others, reader discretion advised. Minor swearing and minors swearing, mentions of alcohol. GN! Reader

Bruce: Tan Lines

It’s moments like these where you wish Bruce didn’t have to spend his nights on the endless pursuit of justice. You knew what you’d signed up for, but you’d missed him all day and god, the feel of his strong fingers massaging after sun into your skin was euphoric. Would you be such a bad guy for trying to convince him to stay home?

“I like this.” His hum pulls you from your train of thought, and you look down to see his fingers trailing against the tan line your shorts had caused. He spares you a quick suggestive glance, the look a wolf might give a rabbit it’s particularly fond of before dipping down to replace his hands with his mouth.

“Ohhh, stay home tonight Brucie?” The look he gives you this time maintains its warmth but there’s an air of warning to it. Despite his simmering combativeness, you add a charming “Please?”

To that he lifts his head, just far enough to deny you of his lips, but close enough that his low voice still seems to reverberate through your body as he speaks. “Crime doesn’t take the night off, neither can I.”

“I know.” You sigh, admitting defeat before the battle has even begun, and he rewards you by assuming his barrage of kisses to your lower body.

“Just don’t go out too early.” You advise, trailing the tip of your finger from ear to ear, estimating the line where his Batman cowl ends. “Don’t want to get any tan lines of your own.”

“Trust me.” There’s humour in his tone now as he works his way upwards, ghosting his 5 o'clock shadow along the skin of your stomach as he prowls closer. “The evening is young, and I have plans for you yet.”

Dick: A/C

The A/C is broken. Again. To combat the heat the whole household has resorted to wearing nothing but their underwear, except of course for Haley who is always naked. Lucky dog.

Additionally, all the windows are open in an attempt to let the cool night air circulate the humid apartment but all it’s really doing is letting in the ambient sound of Blüdhavens boisterous nightlife and countless flies.

“Want one?” Dick asks from the kitchen spaces as he digs into his second ice pop since dinner, you joke about envying his metabolism despite knowing damn well that’s not the real reason for his physique. Although between the food and the heat-induced skipped workout, he’s bloating, just a little bit; the tiniest, most delicious bit of plumpness and you can’t take your eyes off of it. “Are you checking me out?”

“Always.” You reply with a brazen smile, continuing your laser-focused stare even as he begins approaching your spot on the couch.

“How about you stop looking and start touching, huh baby?”

“No.” You finally cease your objectification of his stomach to look him in the eyes. The intended sternness in your tone is stifled by the way his icy confection has turned his lips blue. “I already told you, no sex in this heat until the air con is fixed.”

Despite your posturing, you don’t fight his closing proximity, nor do you stop him from dragging his cool-raspberry-stained tongue along the length of your throat, it’s still cold from the half-eaten lolly and the sensation sends a welcome chill through your body. As inefficient as it may be, you much prefer this method of cooling down to an A/C.

Jason: Sunrise

The metal grate of your fire escape is surprisingly cool against your bare feet. It’s early, pre-sunrise early but the air is still thick, a combination of the arid summer heat and steam of the cities underground. Despite the unpleasant temperature, you settle onto the grill, with nothing but a pillow for comfort and two ice-cold glasses of lemonade.

When 15 minutes pass, and you start to notice a growing tinge of orangeness in the sky, you start to worry you’re being stood up, or worse; something awful has happened. Something that would prevent him from coming home, but then you hear it; The heavy steps of Jason’s steel-toed boots approaching from your apartment’s rooftop.

You glance up just in time to see him dropping down. A loud clang rings out as he hits the floor, causing the whole structure to vibrate and you wonder if he does that every night, surely not, there’s no way you could sleep through it or that your neighbours wouldn’t complain.

“Aren’t you sweating balls?” You ask, taking in his gear as he sits down beside you. The boots, the cargo pants, turtleneck, jacket, gloves, and the full-face mask.

“Nah.” His voice is muffled by the headpiece until he takes it off, shaking his head to support his answer. “It’s weird but I’ve kinda run cold ever since I died, you know?”

Obviously you don’t know, in fact having felt his searing, naked skin pressed to yours on multiple occasions, you highly doubt him, but you nod regardless and hand him his drink. Unlike a man on the chilly side, he chugs half of the icy drink in one go and you wonder if he’ll ever stop jumping from buildings and telling white lies to impress you.

“Want some help warming up?” Before he can respond you lean up, brushing your nose against his and watching as his lids flutter closed in anticipation, his breath is cool on your lips and when you finally press into them you can taste nothing but the tartness of the lemonade. Regardless, it’s heavenly; soft and tender. Every kiss with Jason makes your heart flutter in the same way it had the first time.

When he pulls away you chase after him, eyes only opening to meet his heterochromatic irises when your pursuit for more becomes an abundant failure.

He’s grinning as he tells you; “We’re missing the sunrise.”

“I don’t care.” You answer, trying again, and this time succeeding in drawing him in for another kiss.

Roy: Paddling Pool

If ever anybody asked you to describe a moment of pure domestic bliss, this moment would be a strong contender. Your lower body is submerged in a paddling pool as you bask in the sun, enjoying the occasional splash of water caused by Lian’s uncoordinated but enthusiastic dancing beside you. She too is basking, but hers is under an endless stream of hose water being directed by her father; Roy, who is watching the two of you from a sun lounger, hosepipe in one hand and a non-alcoholic beer in the other.

He's quite the vision, no shoes, no shirt, just tastefully tacky swim trunks and his iconically worn-out grey baseball cap that may be protecting his head, but is doing little to tame his mop of fiery hair. From this angle, you’ve got a great shot of some of his lesser-seen tattoos, but every time you look over at him you find yourself far more smitten with the countless freckles that adorn his chest and shoulders, made darker and more noticeable by the recent heatwave.

“How’s the Heineken?” You ask, genuinely curious how he’s enjoying his first taste of alcohol-free booze.

“Crap.” He replies, lips briefly curving into a self-amused smirk before dropping to woefully panicked as you both turn to look at Lian. Luckily, she doesn’t seem to have been listening in, content in her own toddler babblings. Relieved, he turns his attention back to you and corrects himself. “Um, not good babe.”

“That sucks. I’m sorry.” You offer your condolences, but he seems completely unbothered.

Instead, he turns the glass bottle around in his hands a few times before chucking it over his shoulder. It sails through the air before seamlessly landing in the open bin by your backdoor. Your concern about it leaking into the rest of the recycling is seconded by how impressed you are. It doesn’t seem to matter how many times his trick-shot hit, you’re always at least a little bit captivated by his impeccable aim.

“It’s cool, hon.” He shrugs and leans back into the lounger. His eyes flicker back and forth between you and his child, a slow, contented smile spreading across his face. “Got everything I need right here.”

Bonus:

Hours later, you’re sorting through the soggy contents of the recycling as Roy scoops Lian up in his arms and takes her sleepy frame inside. The sun is still high and bright, but it’s past her bedtime, and it’s been a long, exciting day for her. He dries her with the softest towel he can find, careful to pat down every pruned finger and toe before putting her to bed.

“How was your day, sweetie?” He asks, strong fingers petting her soft hair to help soothe her to sleep.

“Crap!”

Tim: Ice Cream

Tim is still sleeping off a rough, muggy night of crime fighting as you circumnavigate the boat's sad excuse for a kitchen. The bags under his eyes had been growing darker each day under the stress of hunting down a mysterious new bank robber. You’d hoped to lift his spirits by surprising him with a tub of homemade ice cream, but so far all you’d managed to make is a mess.

After having a falling out with the thrifted ice cream maker you’d stuffed in the back of a cupboard months ago, you settled for hand mixing. By the time you put the concoction in the freezer to set, your wrists are aching, and Tim has begun to stir. You’re just finishing up the dishes you’d created when he finally emerges from the bedroom in shorts, flip-flops, and a not-so-summer-appropriate hoodie.

Before you can offer a ‘good morning, Timmybear’ his arms are around your waist, pulling you close from behind and settling the weight of his sleepy head on your shoulder.

“What’s this?” He asks and then he’s licking what you can only assume is a stray splash of the mixture from your cheek with the bravery only a man raised by Batman could possess. It could have been literally anything. “Banana?”

“Chunky monkey actually.” Goddamn. Surprise ruined in less than a minute. Oh well, at least you can give him something to look forward to. “Don’t worry, I didn’t get ice cream without you, I made it for you.”

“I figured.” He hums, sounding so very drowsy despite the ease with which he manoeuvres your body against the kitchen counter so he can keep you close while brewing his morning tea, occasionally planting soft kisses to the side of your neck as his hands move absentmindedly. “You’re the best, you know that? Can’t wait to try it.”

“You figured? How did you figure?” You skip right past the justified praise; he’d been practically comatose since 4 AM, how could he have figured?

“It’s on the ceiling.” He’s right, you look up to see a cream-soaked walnut lodged above you and let out a dramatic sigh as you fall deeper into Tim's arms.

Taglist: @wandalfnation

415 notes · View notes

joosthead · 2 months

Text

touch tank || j.k. f!reader

WARNING #1: explicit real person fiction ahead, dni if below 18. dni if anti-rpf

WARNING #2: explicit rpf/real person fiction content ahead. read at your own risk. dni if anti rpf, dni or read ahead if you simply don’t like rpf lol

₊˚⊹⋆ prompt(s): 16S) the classic “oh, let me help you put some sunscreen on” but then the little massage turns into something more

part 2 of just too soft for all of it — this is a standalone fic but both of these are set in the same universe if you want some more : )

₊˚⊹⋆ reader: f!reader, gets referred to as joost’s girlfriend. notfamous!reader. if you are a person who does not tan/burns—pretend that you can tan easily for this fic😭 exploration into joost and normal!reader’s dynamic. little bit opposite aesthetic reader

₊˚⊹⋆ word count: 7.7k

₊˚⊹⋆ cw: smut (oily massage, f!receiving oral+eating from back, unprotected piv, outdoors [but still private] sex, creampie), perfect world w perfect temperatures and pools, quite sappy lol didn’t know i could top jtsfaoi but here we are, google translate dutch. note: ice lolly/popsicle in mind. yes this is important. idk if they have these in nl but they do now < 3

WARNING #3: rpf ahead—don't like it, don't read it. do not repost this on any other platform, screenshots or text alike. do not click ahead if you don’t want to read rpf. do not interact if you are below 18. how to block tags/words on tumblr.

₊˚⊹⋆ track(s) of the fic: “touch tank” by quinnie, “love is strange” by mickey & sylvia, “pink in the night” by mitski

₊˚⊹⋆ junote: i really wanted to combine this with prompt 14 but i couldn't make it work : ( i do have requests for that that i’ll fulfill so stay tuned teehee !! sorry this took so long, i am a perfectionist and absolutely adore this prompt so—here you guys go !! enjoy : 3

₊˚⊹⋆translation: "Kun je me hier voelen, diep in je?" - "Can you feel me here, deep in you?"

18+ only — explicit rpf content ahead, minors dni, anti rpf dni. 4th and final warning!

Because your life is so perfect, the day after your meltdown and subsequent putting back together (courtesy of Joost), your area gets hit with the worst heatwave of the summer.

You guess that this is some cruel tactic of the universe to make its stars align for you in any way it can. The unbearable beams of sunlight beaming down upon you the moment you exit Joost and your shared home into the backyard. “Are you sure we should have a day outside?” you call back behind you, putting on your sunglasses. “Shouldn’t we just chill inside and watch something?”

Joost comes up behind you, arm snaking around your waist, lips planted on your cheek in a second. “Some sunlight will be very good for you, you’re always holed up in the office or library,” he mumbles into your shoulder, covered by the baby-blue cotton fabric of one of his button ups. “You can bear it.”

You shake your head, but keep walking forward down the steps anyways, sandals slapping against the small wood deck. “I think the heat might kill me.”

“It won’t—I won't let it!” Joost exclaims proudly, letting you go and going ahead of you. Even without seeing his face, you know how big of a smile he’s got on his lips.

The pool sloshes on its own, the aqua blue water spilling over the sides and darkening the gray pavement next to it. On one of your loungers, Joost sets down the tote bag he prepared of towels, sunscreen, the change of clothes you’ll wear when you go back inside. You woke up to it this morning, along with a butcher paper wrapped breakfast sandwich and a glass of water. A text accompanied it—he would be out back, taking the cover off the pool and setting everything up.

Usually, you're the one setting everything up, preferring to have it your own specific way, but—you chose peace last night, going straight to bed after taking that bath together After these few years together, Joost may not be as Type A as you, but he can certainly hold his own now around the household.

Your backyard is a quaint sight: the fence lined with various flower bushes, clean cut grass all around. A tree stands in the corner, roots surrounded by a ring of decorative rocks and pink carnations—there isn’t much either of you have done to upkeep any of it, but somehow, they bloom year after year. Your loungers are baby blue, covered in the towels that Joost has set out, the tote bag spilling over on the left one.

It's almost like you’ve taken an outing to the beach and you're not in the little old house you’ve lived in for the past few years. Any day with Joost is that extravagant, he makes it that way. Already, you can relax, your shoulders lowering as you sit down on the edge of your lounger and watch as Joost squats, running his fingers along the surface of the water in silence.

Low on his hips, Joost’s swim trunks are black and needlessly designer, just the way he likes them. He’s shirtless, the expanse of his back to you—his own name is tattooed on his right shoulder in some sans-serif script he must’ve liked before he ever met you, and in this sunlight, you wish in secret to see your own next to it.

“You’re staring, lieverd,” Joost remarks over his shoulder, giving the water one final splash as he stands up and you smile.

“How could I not?”

“I’m just too beautiful, aren’t I?” He comes over to you, standing in front of you and shielding you from the sun. “You ready to get in the pool?”

Behind your sunglasses, you squint up at him and nod. “Put on some music and I’ll go.”

Goofy as always, he salutes to you and marches away like some Supreme swim trunk clad soldier. As he sets up the speaker on the far side of the pool, you unbutton your shirt, get ready to slip off your flip flops, but in your pocket, your phone vibrates.

You check it—it’s an email from your supervisor, asking you to look over a few files for her. Regardless of your big day out taking up your time…it’s a Saturday. And yet you still find yourself about to respond, about to start typing when Joost places his big hand over your phone screen, saying, “We can look at that later, yeah?” Your grip on the phone loosens; he’s right, you can look at that later. There’s still a part of you that wants to reply, scared of what the consequences will be if you don’t, but—“Today will be great.” Taking your face in his hands, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Come, now.”

You stand up and he slips off your button up for you, dropping it on the deck chair. You adjust the strings of your bikini; white and blue and flowery, patterned like a delicate porcelain vase, so pretty on you and Joost tells you such.

Turning to him, you hold your hands out to the side, showing yourself off. Joost’s hand comes up to your collarbone to fidget with the matching necklaces you both have that you wear now—pearl pendants in dainty silver cages attached to short chains and these green and tarnished (“well-loved,” Joost calls them) old halves of a “BEST FRIENDS FOREVER” heart-shaped necklace from a Claire’s you both visited on a trip to America. He wears them both today, too, chains intertwined and tangled as always.

“Do you realize how pretty you are? Zo mooi mijn liefste,” Joost says, taking your hand and twirling you around for a better look—he wolf whistles, and it makes you laugh, cheeks warming with his eyes on you.

“With how much you tell me, I think I’m starting to realize it.”

“Very glad,” he says, pulling you in for a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll tell you more then.”

Grinning, you pull away and make for the pool steps, but not before Joost taps you on the ass; you act scandalized, dropping your mouth open, narrowing your eyes at him, but it’s lighthearted, and just makes you want to finish what you started last night. “Smokeshow!” he whisper yells through his cupped hands around his mouth as you walk forward and to the side of the pool—it’s still morning, and your neighbours are weird about noise. This is his version of being considerate of that. Too bad for them that you moved Joost Klein into your once quiet home.

Dipping a toe into the water, you immediately suck in a breath through your teeth at how cold it is. Even with the tarp and the sun shining down upon it for hours, the water still nips at your skin, something in your brain perceiving it to be freezing and impossible to step into. “Ew,” you mutter, and Joost snickers from behind you.

“Baby can’t handle it?” he teases.

“Not true,” you mumble, going down the second step, ankle deep, and immediately scrambling out of the water. “Jesus Christ, what the fuck?”

“You’re surprised that water is supposed to be cool?”

“It’s not supposed to be that cool.”

“Come here.” You turn around, walk right up to him. Even without shoes, you still have to look up at Joost, and he smiles right down at you—you know that’s going to happen. “C’mon. Jump, schatje,” he says, tapping the backs of your thighs, so you do—he can carry you with ease, all the times he’s brought you upstairs this way, all the drunken piggybacks he’s given you. You wrap your arms around his neck, wrap your legs around him tightly, while he has his hands under your ass. “Good, baby.”

He takes the opportunity to press a kiss to your neck, then starts forward down the pool steps, slowly so you can adjust. “Agh!” you yelp softly as he moves further into the pool, the cold water coming up around your body, engulfing you. The temperature is a shock to your system, though the way it cools your hot skin is so, so welcome. It isn’t as cold like this.

“Is it okay?”

“I’m okay,” you say, though you hug him closer to get any sort of warmth on you.

“Are you sure?” he laughs, and you nod, still clinging onto him like a little bear. “You’re so cute. I think I deserve a kiss for that.”

“One for carrying me,” you say, kissing him on his soft lips. “Another for setting all of this up.” You kiss him again, and Joost deepens it, somehow squeezing your body even tighter to his, tongue teasing at your mouth as he squeezes your ass, as you rest your hands on his chest. “Have we ever done it in a pool?” you ask once you pull away.

“Never.” Joost gives you one last peck, one last kiss on the jaw as he smiles at you. “Do you think today is the day?”

“Maybe. We’ll see.”

—

After around an hour of wading around—you’ve both decided that today is not the day to do it in a pool. It’s too hot, even with the cold water you’re situated in. Not even your house or the tree in the corner of the yard provides good shade for the water as the day gets later, the sun beating down on your shoulders; it would turn into a burn if you were that unlucky, but you, however, are not.

In the morning when you first stepped out, the pool was still shaded and you and Joost could do whatever you wanted: breath holding contests, Joost trying (and failing) to do a handstand underwater, racing each other across and back several times like this was some backyard Olympics. After a bit, you floated on your backs together, laughing about what the water feels like in your ears, laughing about how terrible he is at floating. Finally, you felt all of the worries from the past month melt away and into the water as you gazed up at the blue sky above you.

You heard it before it came—Joost swiping the surface of the water, making a large splash that drenched your face as you floated. You exclaimed, “You dick!” and freed yourself from your float to splash him back in the face hard, then he feigned the hurt and sorrow that fills one’s heart after chlorine fills their waterlines, rubbing at his eyes—you weren’t not going to come over and dote on him, but then he splashed you back as you looked over his red eyes, and it made you splash him back even more.

Noise be damned, you were both laughing and shrieking and splashing for around an hour—in the midst of your splash war, you noticed how pink Joost’s shoulders were, the beginnings of a nasty sunburn afoot with the afternoon sun shining down on both of you. You shooed him out of the pool and into the refuge of the umbrella covering your lounge chairs, and started to rummage in the bag before he sprung up from his seat.

“Wait, wait, wait! Before I forget—” Joost exclaims, running back up the stairs and into your house. A minute or two passes, and he comes back with his hands behind his back, closing the sliding door shut with his foot. In front of him, he holds out a twin popsicle—two sticks encapsulated by sweet red syrup and already melting in its package. “Ijslolly!” He presents it to you as he comes down the stairs, then bows to you deeply and dramatically, which makes you laugh. “Here you go, m’lady,” he says, then tips his imaginary fedora to you because. Because of course he would—anyone else, it would make you cringe, but it’s Joost. Perfectly goofy, perfectly sweet, perfectly Joost.

You laugh as he opens the wrapper and splits the popsicle in two—one for him, one for you. “Thank you, kind sir,” you giggle, playing along. “Where’d you even get this?” you ask, taking your half and licking at the melting syrup already dripping onto your hand.

“I went to the store while you were sleeping,” Joost says proudly, biting into the popsicle. “It’s strawberry, do you like?”

Walking forward, you nod and get up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss. “I love.”

He beams at you, sits down, chomps at his popsicle while you eat yours; he puts his hat and sunglasses back on and you do the same, and you sit together as the music plays for you.

A new Charli xcx song, Joost and Käärijä’s recent collaboration, an incredibly sexual recent Ski Aggu release that you make a note of texting him “???” about later.

Before you know it, you’re left with a red-stained stick, a red-stained mouth, a satisfied sweet tooth. “Okay, Joosty. Sunscreen time.” He gives you an exaggerated grumble but sits down at the edge of the lounger nonetheless, and you stand between his legs, taking the sunscreen from behind him and uncapping it. “You need it more than I do.”

“Shush,” he says, but lets you take out two fingers worth of sunscreen, lets you take off his sunglasses and spread the sunscreen on his cheeks, rubbing it in. You can’t resist him and his pretty face, dusted pink cheeks, ocean blue eyes looking up at you through long blonde eyelashes.

You’re so distracted by his face that you don’t pay attention to where you’re going—“Oops,” you giggle. “I got sunscreen on your mustache.”

“Oops,” he repeats. “I don’t mind.”

Hands on the backs of your thighs, Joost pulls you close by them and presses a kiss to your stomach, then hugs you tight around your waist. Automatically, your hands come up to play with his hair, combing your fingers through the strands. “All of your sunscreen is going on my stomach, Joost.”

“Don’t care. You think if I lay out in the sun for long enough, it’ll bleach my hair more?”

You snicker, “The heat will singe you to pieces before it can even bleach your hair.”

Sighing, he presses another kiss to your stomach. “You’re lucky. You get to tan today.”

“I ran out of my oil in Cuba, Joosty, I can’t.” A couple’s vacation with Appie and Alanis in Havana, feels like so long ago even though it’s only been two months. Fruity cocktails on the beach (and in your hotel room, and at the bar, and in the club, and…), running down hallways, fussing over Joost’s sunburned cheeks, Joost ogling you sunbathing but unable to do anything out of respect for your friends right next to you. You should have picked up another tub, but you weren’t exactly expecting to be tanning back in Amsterdam anyways.

“You can't, or you won't? Look in the bag,” Joost mumbles into your tummy. You lean over behind him and reach into the tote—most of the other things have already spilled out and onto the lounger behind him: your sunglasses, two droom groot caps, the wrapper of your popsicle, a cheap film camera, and…a brand new tub of coconut oil. Your favourite brand. He must’ve picked it up on his trip to the store this morning, and you laugh, “You're so sweet.”

“Mm-mm,” Joost hums. “That’s you, lieverd. You should lie down, I’ll put the oil so you can tan your back.”

Cocking an eyebrow at him, you snort, “Feels like you have something up your sleeve, Klein.”

He grins a toothy smile up at you—“Maybe I do.”

Joost gets up and moves all of the things to the other lounger, allowing you to lie on it on your stomach. You wiggle around a little on it, settling into the soft cushion, your back already stretching with your position.

“I will be a great masseuse, schatje, don’t you worry. “ Careful not to put too much weight on you, Joost straddles the backs of your thighs.

“Should I be worried?”

“No.”

“I feel like I should be worried.”

“Don’t be.” From behind you, he gets up, and you turn around to see what he’s doing—he gets your/his button up from the other chair and slips it on. “No more burning today for me.”

You nod as he settles back on you, and you hear the sound of your little coconut oil tub being opened, the safety seal being ripped off, the clicking of his tongue at it ripping off unevenly. The air is a comfortable blanket of warmth upon you now, your worries melting away with it as you wait for Joost.

“Can you untie the string around my back?” you ask before you forget.

A few beats of silence pass until Joost finally says—“What?”

“Is there a problem?”

“Why untie?”

Joost’s voice has deepened an octave—almost grave, the tone of his voice is, because all of the possibilities in his mind floating around. Just your bare back and its expanse in front of him.

“I don’t want a tan line,” you explain. “Untie it and I won’t get one.”

“Okay,” he affirms, though sounding uneasy as he undoes the tight strings of your halter top, the strings around your torso. He swipes them out of his way, and you assume the pause in his movement is to dip his fingers in the coconut oil and warm it up for you.

Your assumption is right. In a minute or so, Joost’s big hands smooth across your back, firm yet gentle—he knows exactly how to handle you. The oil provides a lovely glide for his palms against your skin, and it smells so great; the pressure he’s applying is perfect on you, and you let out a little mewl of pleasure. The knots in your back are melting away with every swipe of his hands across it and you have to ask—“Where’d you learn to give such a great massage, Joost?”

“A magician never reveals his secrets.”

Even if you tried, you couldn’t deduce how he learned to do this; maybe you’re just super tired from the last month (very likely) or he was a masseuse in his past life, but you’re already less tense with his hands on you. He digs his thumbs into the small of your back and rubs circles into it as you sigh in contentment at how it feels.

“I like this song,” Joost mumbles as it changes to this one you found years ago, some song about baby blue shirts, how pretty he looks going down on you.

“Mhm,” you hum.

“Seems very appropriate for the situation, right?” Eyes closed, you smile with his fingertips hovering just above your skin, a pause now in his treatment for you. “Can I…you know…” with his finger, Joost writes a small J, one, two, three times, on your back and sliding with the oil waiting for your response.

“Massage me for a little more, I’ll think about it.”

“Fine,” he breathes, then gets back to work.

Joost smoothes his hands over your back muscles; first over the top, over your trapezius, then up to your shoulders. He pinches a little around the shoulders, gliding over the smooth skin there. Hands sticky with oil, the solid melts with the sun-warmed dip of your spine, the valley of your back before him. The dip is perfect to smell, perfect to kiss; perfect to put a light hand on in public and a harsher grip on in private. With every movement of his hands, it smells more like coconut, smells less like you, and Joost has to resist the urge to bend down and nose at it to get your scent back. Every movement is accompanied by a little—a little breath. A little happy sigh from you, and it makes him go insane with every press of his hands against you.

You’re much more refined than he is, more able to keep it together; if Joost was in your position, he knows he’d be a mess under you, quick and fast and easy. You’re his favourite person—the wave of your hand could bring him to his knees. Taking care of you comes so easily to him, even if he’s so commonly doted upon by other people. This feeling—no wonder you like taking care of him as much as you do.

Today is so happy, a day that’ll get him through weeks and shows to come without you, long days on the tour bus wishing you could be by his side. Joost got through yesterday, his flight, the ride home using the prospect of you, seeing you, to get by. Then he got home, and seeing you was all he could look forward to after being away for what felt like forever, and he finally did, and he was so overjoyed and then—then you were crying, and he felt so sad that all he could do was hold you. He wants badly to understand why.

“Can I ask…can I ask why you cried yesterday, lieverd?” Joost adds in a soft voice, still running his hands firmly over your sore muscles, “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it right now, I understand. But I’d like to know sometime, so we can help you feel better.”

You’ve known since the moment you started crying that you’d have to talk about it sometime. Sharing everything with each other is the way your relationship is, how it always has been—you thought about it in the bath with him, his chest against your back, deep and tired voice reverberating with it. How to word it as he played the first track on the new album, so crazy experimental and unlike anything you’ve ever heard from him before. Thought about it in the pool, thinking about it now.

“I just…I’m probably the most mundane part of your life. There’s this little voice in my head, maybe it’s what I think people are saying about me—‘You’re telling me Joost Klein couldn’t find someone more interesting?’” You think back to an offhand Tweet you saw come up on your timeline, 10 angry quote tweets already defending you, no likes, but it still sticks to the back of your mind like some aggravating super glue: “‘His girlfriend doesn’t even do music or anything special and she still can't show up for him.’ I don’t travel like you do, I’m not always making music or doing things. And still, I couldn’t be there for you.

I watch you at your shows and you’re this…enigma, you’re amazing. I want to be as good as you, I wanna show you off like you show me off. But there’s always something in the way. My schedule, or university, or work.” It’s truly difficult now not to feel like you overshared, dumped something on him that maybe you weren’t prepared to dump on him—a cloud shadows the sun, just at the right moment, and the parts of your skin not already touched by the umbrella’s shade are cooled momentarily. “Or maybe I’m just not trying hard enough for you.”

“I’m not flashy,” you say softly, settling on your forearms. “My way of being flashy is the way I love you, and I don’t know if I’ll ever think it compares to how you do it. I feel bad, that’s all. Like I could be doing more for you in every way.” Whatever it is, whether or not you were prepared to say it—it’s out now. “‘Cause you deserve it, you always do.” Blindly, you reach behind you and hold your hand out for him to hold, and he does, squeezing it tightly. Your cheeks warm, and it’s certainly not because of the temperature outside anymore. “I’m sorry I killed the vibe.”

From behind you, you hear a sniffle, and you raise your head and look back, alarmed. Joost wipes a tear away with his other hand, laughs a sniffly laugh as you laugh, “Joooost. You’re gonna make me cry.”

“No, no, no vibe killing in this house.” You crane your head back again, pursing your lips, and he leans forward so he can kiss you, then peppers kisses until your shoulder, mumbling, “I should be comforting you, lieverd.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly. “Don’t really need to be comforted, just need to get it through my head that it’s not like that. I’m just sad that you’re sad.”

Joost rubs your back, though it seems like he needs that more than you do if you’re judging by his sniffles and wavery voice alone. “I never knew you felt that way.”

He wraps his arms around your torso, hugging you close and continues, “If it’s any consolation, which I hope it is—you could never be careless. You set out my favourite sleep clothes for when I got back, favourite snacks, plushies on the bed, a place in the dresser for new stuff.” You have to admit—you were pretty proud of that last idea when you came up with it. “You’re thoughtful, and you’re kind, and I’m so lucky to have you. I love you, I love you. I love you.”

With every “I love you” is a kiss upon your skin that you can’t see, but feel wholeheartedly anyways. “My muse, my saviour,” he says, and you have to laugh a little. “I mean it, you know I mean it.” And you do, you know it—how could you not when it comes from Joost? “You’re the most extraordinary part of my life, schat. Every show, your presence is there with me, even if you feel you aren’t.”

“Not true,” you say, voice teasing. “That would be impossible, wouldn’t it?”

You can feel the roll in his eyes from here, even though you can’t see it. “Yeah, yeah. But you know what I mean, right? Best friends forever, that’s what our necklaces say. Always there for each other. You’re always there with me.”

He kisses your shoulder. The oil is strange on his lips, but he doesn’t mind—it’s you. “Nothing compares to you, everything we have together…I hope you know how I feel now.” Pausing, Joost rests his forehead on the back of your head, breathes you in. “I’m obsessed with you, I think,” he whispers into the nape of your neck, then kisses it, and you laugh with the tickle of his lips, his facial hair against your sunwarmed skin.

“You are? I didn’t know,” you tease, perking your ass up against Joost on top of you because—somewhere in your conversation, he’s gotten hard, and it’s poking against your thigh now, making you bite your lip. Stroking each other’s egos has gotten you both excited, it seems. “What’s up with that, hm?”

“You should know. I’m telling you right now, I’m obsessed with you. And this?” Joost grinds his crotch against you just lightly, kissing the side of your neck as he lowers his voice, “This, I like talking about you too much. You can’t blame me for it, you’re gorgeous.”

“I don’t think I know how obsessed with me you are yet. Tell me more?”

“Do I have to tell you, schat?” he says, gentle and low, fingering the delicate ties on your sides and the sensitive skin of your hips under them. His fingers drag down the column of your spine, tease at the edge of your bikini. “I don’t think I have to tell you, right? That I love you, need you?”

“You don’t? Have to tell me?”

“I’ll show you.”

You imagine what he looks like behind you—burnt shoulders, rosy cheeks, dark sunglasses, chlorine dried blonde hair all messy and the tips dripping with water still upon the billowy cotton of his button up. Those blue eyes, blown out at the sight of you underneath him, wandering every lovely curve of your body. Slowly, he unravels the ties that hold both sides of your bottoms together, the nylon springing back against your skin, and you fight the urge to smile in anticipation of Joost all over you soon.

“You don’t want any tan lines down here?” he asks, fingers already underneath the damp fabric of your swimsuit bottoms. You shake your head no. “Ok, then no tan lines.”

Joost slips the fabric off of your skin; the dampness makes it cling to you still, though it’s easy enough to take off completely. You hike your leg up for easier access, turn your head so you can get a good look at him. In a sort of headband, his sunglasses are perched atop his head; the button up wrinkled and a bit stained with oil; rightfully, his eyes are half-lidded with want, his fingers fidgeting with the hem of his trunks.

“What do you want to do?” Teasing him, you run a finger down his bulge and he smiles at you. Truly, you haven’t a single idea about what Joost wants to do with you next, and it looks like he doesn’t either—until his eyes light up, and you figure that tugging gently at his trunks for him can help expedite the process.

“Can I try something?”

“Go right ahead.”

You lie in wait as Joost lowers his shorts, erection springing out and his hand coming to wrap around it and give it a few pumps—you reach behind, running a finger down the slit, and he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth as he strokes himself, then settles his cock on the soft cleft of your ass and glides it against, between it.

You laugh, “You’re such a dog, Joost,” but as he ruts gently against you—the little moans he’s doing in your ear, already rambling about how good you feel and he’s not even inside yet, one hand gripping your hip and keeping his cock in place and the other on the back of the lounger so he can keep his balance; this is your personal paradise.

“Fuck,” Joost whispers, biting his lip. You love a show, and he’s ever the showman—but you’re outside, he’s outside, he’s very aware of your cranky old neighbours, and he loves you and your house. One day, you’ll share the lease together, so he tries and stays quiet for the sake of that dream, so you both won’t get kicked out for verbal indecency today.

“I know how much you like it, Joost,” you purr from under him, voice muffled by your arms. “You can tell me.”

From Joost’s point of view, you look like a line in his song, the notes in the margin crafting and tailoring the work to his perfect vision; you look like the fully realized final draft of something he’s been working on for months, trying to find the sound of for years.

If he could write something about this moment, it would probably result in entire sagas, but for now—keeping you like this close to his chest is a gift only he has.

“I can’t be eloquent like this,” he laughs, and you have to agree; whatever goes on in that head, he short circuits before he can say it in this state of pleasure.

Joost pauses his small thrusts, catches his breath. “Go on,” you encourage, but he breathes a quiet, “No. If I go any more, I’ll cum early and that would be so lame, schat.”

“Not lame. I would personally love to see it.”

“Mm-mm. We are not doing that today,” he laughs, and the sound makes your heart warm.

“Put it in,” you say softly, trying to convince him to keep going—it’s so cute how far gone he is already, how hard he’s trying for you.

“No, no, no. Let me taste you first.”

You cannot argue with that.

In an instant, you abandon your bikini top, abandon the bottoms too in a crumpled mess on the ground laying on your sandals and his flip flops. “Hands and knees, lieverd,” Joost says, and you follow his direction, settling so you’re on your elbows and your ass is hiked in the air.

A few moments pass as Joost sits behind you, and you have to ask—“What are you waiting for?”

“Just enjoying the view,” he says, then gives a kiss to your ass cheek, making you giggle. “So impatient today, schat. Is it because I was gone for so long?” Joost moves your knees so they’re spread even wider, giving him more access to you. “How much did you miss me?” A kiss to the back of your thigh, right near your center, your stomach caving in with the deep breath you take in anticipation.

“I missed you a lot,” you whisper, looking back at him focusing his dilated eyes on your pussy, and your cheeks grow hot at the sight. “Missed you more than you know.”

“Did you?” He licks a tentative stripe up your slit, up even higher over your hole—so sensitive, your knees could shake with only the tip of his tongue teasing you. “Show me, let me hear it, lieverd.”

“Joost,” you scold, though your arching back reveals your true feelings about what he’s doing.

“Sorry, can’t resist.” He presses a kiss atop it before coming back to your pussy.

So exposed, so vulnerable, so open, Joost’s fingers parting your folds. He spreads them gently so you’re even more open to him and licks in between, drinking from you. The smacking of his lips against you—it’s filthy. You’re so cognizant of the sound; is it unmistakable from outside, Joost’s tongue flicking against your clit, his fingers rubbing circles on where he can’t reach? You hope the sounds of the city outside your flat cover the mewls that spill out of you as he lays his tongue flat against it and laps up your wetness.

“I think we should get you more tan in the front, too, right, schatje?” Joost says, breathless, and you flip over, laying on your back for him. Before he can get back to business, you cup his chin, pinching it gently between your fingers. His lips are covered in your wetness, glistening with it in the sunlight. You pull him to you, bringing his lips to yours, the salty taste of yourself on your tastebuds, on your chin as well now.

This all makes you realize—you weren’t wrong at all for missing him so terribly.

When you pull away, Joost pauses, gazing at your face, brushing your hair out of your eyes. On top of you, lying partly on you, he cups your cheek, silver chain resting on your chest, the pearl pendants and the halves of one heart of the matching necklaces you own together right next to each other.

“Zo mooi,” he says quietly as he lowers down, kissing your chest right next to your pendants, kissing down between the valley of your breasts, maneuvering so he can graze your nipple with his teeth, flatten his tongue over it. His hand comes up to cup your other breast as he sucks at the bud, then sucks at the skin next to it; that will leave a mark tomorrow, a sweet reminder of your time together.

Finally, he’s satisfied with his work on you and starts down your body, kissing your stomach, your hips. Before you can even process it, he folds you in half, hands on the backs of your knees; licks one long stripe through your folds, then attaches his lips around your clit, sucking it, forcing a loud and choked moan out of your mouth as he alternates between licking hard at your bud with the tip of his tongue and sucking.

Joost is a fiend for it, devilish look in his eyes, smile on his mouth even when it’s pressed up so close against you—his fingers tease at your dripping wet hole, then his middle fingers are inside you, and then he’s there to the knuckle and petting at your g-spot incessantly.

Joost knows you inside and out; can already tell that your pretty hands resting on the back of his head and holding him there will result in your fingers tangled in his hair and tugging lightly; knows that a few more seconds of his curling fingers and his tongue on you will make you try and push against his hand still holding you open with your thigh, you’ll fail to do so, and be happier for it.

You’re too lost in your pleasure to look at him like he wants you to. No matter—you’re a beautiful sight coming undone for him, eyes closed, chest heaving with your breaths, a slight sheen to your skin. “Joost,” you sob quietly as he continues pumping his fingers in and out of you, continuing to lap at your pussy like he’s trying to quench an unquenchable thirst.

“Mhm? Do you like it, schat?” Joost says against you, the vibrations of his deep voice making you twitch. You nod, and there it is—he pauses to smile when he realizes you're holding his head in its place, burying his face in your center. Who is he not to give you what you want? He drinks you in, and it makes you moan louder. “Keep quiet,” he mumbles. “We wouldn’t want the neighbours to hear, now would we?”

You’ve come back to reality enough to nod, quiet down a little, but after a few more seconds of him sucking your clit, pistoning his fingers in and out of you, you cum, saying his name over and over again, then whispering it once you realize that yes—you’re still outside. Joost presses one last sloppy kiss against your overstimulated bud, and you nudge his face away with your fingertips, laughing breathlessly.

Joost laughs too as he settles his cheek on the inside of your thigh, peppering soft kisses to it as he gazes at you; the look in his eyes is so tender, you almost want to look away, but you don’t. You’d take a picture if it wasn’t so glaringly obvious what you were doing before. You cup his other cheek, and he nuzzles further into your thigh, eyes closed.

For a few moments, you stay like this, catching your breaths, basking in the afterglow of your orgasm together. After a little, Joost wipes his mouth and his cheeks with the back of his hand. “Owie,” Joost winces, reaching back to rub over the spot on his head where you pulled on his hair. “You really enjoyed that, schatje,” he smiles, climbing up over you.

“I'm sorry,” you say softly, putting your hand over his as he lies down on you, head on your chest. “I shouldn’t have tugged so hard.”

“It’s okay, it was worth it.” You pet his hair—Joost is so warm, the air is so hot around you, but you’ve never felt better. “I’m so hard it hurts, schat,” he mumbles, and you laugh as he shifts around on top of you, erection through his shorts poking your thigh.

“Let’s fix that?”

“I thought you’d never ask.”

With quickness, Joost is up and off of you, straightened on his knees and parting yours, but you sit up. Hooking your fingers on the waistband of his trunks, you pull them down slightly, pulling him in to kiss you as you pull them lower, letting his cock spring out as you kiss sloppily, strawberry stained tongues meeting. You wrap your hand around his thick shaft, run your thumb over his weeping pink tip to spread around the precum, which makes him groan into your mouth, makes your teeth knock together.

You stroke him a few times, Joost’s hand resting at the base of your neck. It’s like time slows down when you pull away from him and watch him and his furrowed blonde brows, the way his lips are dropped open, the pink blush of his skin creeping down his neck to his chest with all of this exertion.

Joost opens his eyes, catching you gazing at him intently, and he brings his forehead to yours as you keep jerking him, and holds your face in his hands. “Catch me if I fall?” he asks, and you laugh.

“So dramatic.”

“You don't even know, dude.” A few more kiss-filled seconds pass until Joost finally calls it—“Enough, baby, I need to be inside of you now, please.”

Nodding, you lie back, opening your legs for him. He sits back, stroking himself. “No crying today, hm, schat?” Joost says as he takes his place between your legs. “No crying unless it’s out of pleasure, of course. Or if you want to cry out of sadness, that’s okay, too.”

“I’ll take note of that, thanks,” you smile as Joost lines up with your entrance, lying over you. You slip your hands underneath his shirt, fingers running over Rayquaza, his skin piping hot on yours. The pool still sloshes, the sun is much higher, he's inching his cock inside of you and saying something in Dutch that sounds like whatever is equivalent to “fucking Christ,” his face screwed up in pleasure.

“So warm,” Joost practically whimpers, and you both know that he certainly didn’t mean to say that in such a whiny tone. “So warm,” you laugh, making an exaggerated moan to tease him as he covers his face with his hands and laughs with you.

“Shut uppp.” Another inch inside you, so deep. “I wish you could feel how it feels, it’d change your life.” Every vein and ridge on his cock, you can feel as you envelop him fully. “You changed mine,“ he says, and it makes your heart soar. “Over/under, 3 minutes, schat?”

“Under. Over/under 30 seconds?”

“Under. Maybe. Jesus fuck, you feel so good,” he laughs, breathless. “So tight, you’re amazing.” Joost goes silent as he fully bottoms out in you, but a few moments pass, and he states like he’s been thinking of it the entire time, “Lowkey, I wish we had one of those squeeze bottles,” he makes a disturbingly good squeeze bottle sound with his mouth, “Pfft-pfft. We could be oiled up super quick if we did. Maybe for next time I give you a massage.”

You give him a puzzled, amused look—you know him like the back of your hand, but where his mind wanders sometimes, you aren’t sure. “I just don’t know,” you laugh. “Maybe we can workshop that idea.” Joost grinds himself against your clit, and you moan into his mouth as he comes down and kisses you.

Joost fucks you like you both have all the time in the day to be here—as far as either of you are concerned, you do. Long, languid thrusts that you both watch as his cock disappears inside of you, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your clit. The wet, hollow slaps of his hips against your ass are filthy music to your ears; you pant into each other’s mouths, close enough to touch, but not wanting to for the sake of watching each other, eyes open.

You snake your arms around his neck, bringing him closer as his thrusts become shallower, quicker, erratic, punching into your g-spot. Without warning, Joost straightens up, exiting you fully, then lifts your hips up to meet him where he is, his shaft rubbing against your clit.

“Ik hou van je, lieverd."

“Ik hou van je, Joost, I love you so much.”

Joost’s face lights up then melts once he hears you speak Dutch—it’s so cute, like a little surprise for him even though you try to speak it with him regularly. Since it’s easier for you to express yourself in English, he'd rather you just speak Dutch at work and school like you already do, but the excitement in his expression when you do speak it is priceless.

He sinks inside you once more, a loud shared moan between you two; this angle allows him to be deeper inside you than before. You tighten around him, and he sighs in pleasure. Joost splays his fingers out on your belly. “Kun je me hier voelen, diep in je?”

“Ja, je voelt je zo goed, schat,” you breathe. Your praises seem to incense him to thrust into you firmly, out, in, out, in, sloppy, though you can’t blame him. Still, the head of his cock hits your spot with every seat of himself in you. He smoothes his tattooed hand over your chest, your erratic heartbeat probably felt through to his palm; he moves up to put his thumb in your mouth, and eagerly, you suck as he fucks you. Anything to quiet yourself, anything to have more of him inside of you. “I’m close, Joost,” you say once he moves his hand to your shoulder for leverage.

Nodding, he says, “Me too,” keeping the pace, smearing more of your wetness over your clit so his fingers slide over it better as he rubs it for you.

A few more reckless thrusts, your arms flying up around his neck for support, lips catching each other’s, swallowing each other’s moans. That familiar tugging feeling in your stomach grows and grows until you can’t ignore it anymore, your core tightening, your pussy tightening around him as you gasp out his name over and over again with your climax, and he gasps out yours. He’s not finished yet, but his hips have lost the rhythm they once had, his control over his impending orgasm with how you’ve constricted around him.

“Schat, hold on for me a little.”

“I should be telling you that,” you say, though you understand—the overstimulation of his cock dragging against your insides is getting to be a lot. You hug him close, your lips right next to his ear, his panting breaths right in yours as he ruts into you. “Cum inside me, Joost,” you whisper, and with one last deep thrust inside of you, he cums with a groan, with a breathy moan of your name, clutching your body tightly in his hands as he shoots inside of you, cock pulsing; so warm, being filled up like this, no space between you two, his stuttering hips fucking back into you for a few final thrusts.

In each other’s arms you lie there, panting—sweaty skin on sweaty skin, music still playing from the speaker, him softening inside of you. Joost kisses you deeply, kisses your cheeks, your chin, and you smile. “You are everything I’ve ever wanted and more, schat,” he says into the side of your neck. “Don't forget that.”

thank you so much for reading! likes, comments, reblogs always so so appreciated <3 : ) - juno

#joost klein #joost klein smut #joost klein x reader #joost x reader #joost x you #joost #joost smut #joost fanfic #joost klein fanfiction #juno's fics #answered prompts #smut prompts #juno's smut

341 notes · View notes

satorhime · 1 year

Text

. ･｡･ self checkout ࿐ nagi seishiro.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content ㆍ﹒fluff, aged up!nagi, pro footballer!nagi, height difference (reader is shorter than nagi), shopping trips, slightly suggestive, established relationship. f!reader. w.c. 2k & not proofread.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis ㆍ﹒nagi enjoys running errands if the two of you go together. & ໒꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ` ꒱ྀིა notes: baby’s first blue lock fic !! honestly i’m supa nervous bc i haven’t written 4 them before n i’m still figuring things out but i hope u enjoy reading this anw <333

“this date is so tiring,” nagi laments for the fifth time since you stepped through the automated sliding doors of the neighborhood supermarket. he blows out a breath from his puffed cheeks, sounding as if he is on the verge of collapsing while you browse the shelves for pantry essentials and late night snacks. “when can we go home?”

a trendy song from a summer spotify mix croons over the tinny speakers overhead, its bubblegum pop lyrics interrupted every now and then by a cheery voice advertising new items and upcoming discounts. the supermarket is busier than when you and seishiro usually stop by, which isn’t all that surprising considering it’s the end of the day. college students carry armfuls of instant ramen and sugary sodas for study sessions and old ladies browse for medicinal teas while parents push full carts of groceries, ignoring their wailing children who press their little noses against the frosty glass of the freezers, begging to be given overpriced ice creams locked away inside.

and you resist the urge to roll your eyes with exasperation, glancing over to where your boyfriend leans heavily on the handle of the cart he has been tasked with pushing for you— his long fingers tapping away at a mobile game on the screen of his phone.

“that’s because,” you begin, wagging a finger at him when you turn around and toss an item into the bottom of the cart. “it’s not a date, sei. i told you that i had to run errands today and you insisted on coming with me when you hate it.”

“‘s’boring at home when you’re not there, so it seemed like a good idea at first,” he shrugs, rolling the cart further down the aisle when you’re on the move again. slothy, midwinter gray eyes drag lazily over your body— taking in the way your faded t-shirt (which is, really, just one of his old ones) rides up a little on your body, exposing the cute little dimples in the soft part of your back as you stand on your tiptoes, struggling to reach one of the higher shelves in the freezer section.

you are well aware that nagi hates daily tasks. things such as making the bed in the morning, washing the dishes after dinner, or visiting the laundromat once a week requires too much energy from your drowsy footballer boyfriend, but it makes you happy to know that he tries, even if he falls asleep while doing it; that he will do anything if you are involved, and nothing if you aren’t.

like right now, he abandons his mobile game and the shopping cart in the middle of the aisle without care to come over and help you, making a mother of two-under-two glare at him viciously. he snorts, sliding his hand into the back pocket of your denim shorts, a romantic comedy habit of his when the two of you are walking anywhere together. nagi’s head tilts cutely to one side, blinking owlishly up at the shelves. “which one d’you wanna get, shortstack?”

“i am not short,” you huff, twisting your mouth to one side at his teasing, but you point to the item you want— an assorted pack of ice lollies. “shelves are designed against short people. and i dunno— are we in the mood for ice cream or popsicles?”

it’s hard to make a decision because freezers full of summer treats line both sides of the aisle. tubs of gourmet gelatos, variety packs of creamy ice candies, and an endless selection of mochi with custard fillings in the middle that make your mouth water at the thought of bringing them home with you.

“i’ll eat them no matter what anyway,” he shrugs, unwilling to be the one to choose, but then his gray eyes glance down at your lips, then back to the items in front of you. you swear that his eyes darken to a stormier color, even though his expression never changes. “you make cute sounds when you suck on ice pops, and you always taste sweet after. get those.”

and then he faces forward, browsing the selection of ice creams with interest, as if his words didn’t short circuit a current in your brain. you’ll never understand how seishiro can say the most outlandish things so casually, only to return to what he’s doing while you’re left attempting to calm your fast heart.

“ice pops it is,” you say, a little winded. “make sure to get the second pack, and not the first.”

“mhnn, why’s it matter? the second one’s farther back. they all look the same to me.”

“they’re not. the first is one everybody has touched or returned.”

“that . . . makes sense,” he considers it, then he nods, lips formed into a little ‘o’ shape. “okay, we’ll get the second one.”

you watch as he steps forward, pushing the first pack of ice lollies aside to select the second as you requested, reaching the item with ease and heavens, it’s moments like these when you are reminded just how much bigger seishiro is. he’s always towered over your shorter height and it’s so, so unfair how he uses it to his advantage, making your tummy burn at the sight. frosty air wafts from the open door of the freezer, bringing chills over your heated skin. “‘s a good thing i was here, since you’re so little— there was no way you could reach it.”

“‘m not little,” you mumble, all pouty because nagi is squishing your cheeks between two finger pads. “you’re just so tall. it’s unfair.”

“want me to be shorter?” he asks, and before you can ask what he means, nagi drops the pack of ice pops into your hands and deflates dramatically, bending down to drape himself over your frame. his head tucked against your shoulder, the footballer’s milky fringe tickling the skin of your neck as he closes his eyes. “man, now ‘m even more tired.”

“seishiro, you’re heavy.”

“i know,” he sighs, eyes shuttering below thick lashes, but he makes no effort to move away from your body. instead, his hand slithers under your shirt. making you shiver because his fingertips are dewy and cold from the arctic blast of the freezer and the frozen treat he picked up. you hiss, squirming under his touch as his fingers trail across your belly. “but i’m tired ‘n’ you feel s’soft, like a pillow.”

“nagi, off,” you wheeze, his extra weight making it hard for you to properly breathe. it’s easy to forget how solid he is, straight lines of athletic muscle that usually has you cow-eyed and cooing, as long as it’s not weighing you down in the middle of a supermarket. you try to shake him off, but the midfielder only squeezes you against his body even tighter, his slightly damp lips pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “we’re never gonna get anything done like this, you lazy boy. if you don’t wanna walk, go wait in the sitting area with the grandpas.”

he sighs in defeat and shakes his head, pressing his lips together in that cute frown he pulls whenever he’s thinking. then, he’s dropping his arms from you suddenly. “mmhn, got a better idea.”

“and what’s that—”

you face nagi, only to catch your boyfriend with one foot in the shopping cart as he tries to hoist himself over the railing and inside of the basket.

“sei, you can’t fit in there—!” your eyes flicker between him, and the elderly man judging the two of you at the other end of the aisle. “you’re too big.”

“you’re always saying things like that,” he says, and the innuendo intertwined in the words flies over your pretty head because with one boost, he’s hopping over the railing and sinking into the cart, the metal rattling in protest. you stand there, dumbstruck as he settles. “now i can stay with you without walking.”

“yeah, but now that means i have to push you,” you grumble. “i should leave you here and get a new cart.”

but it’s hard to refuse when your boyfriend is that cute. his impossibly long legs are folded against his chest so that he can fit inside the shopping cart comfortably, taking extra care not to crush any of the delicate items surrounding him. the lower half of his face is buried into the collar of his soft hoodie as he absently chews on the drawstrings, but you can still see the sanrio bandaid you put on him yesterday after he got a nasty elbow to the cheek during football practice.

even though you two are already receiving strange looks from other shoppers passing by, you grip the handle, pushing the cart and your boyfriend dutifully, rolling it onto the next aisle.

“you look ridiculous,” you tell him, but you’re grinning. “but here, you’re on list duty. what do we need to get next?”

nagi’s eyes dutifully scan over the shopping list open in the notes app of your phone, his fingernail scrolling the screen lightly.

“it says ‘ramen because my greedy athlete bf keeps eating it all’ so y’need to get . . . oi, you mean me—”

“i wonder who wrote that there,” you whistle innocently, plucking the device out of his hands, wheeling him away fast.

the rest of your shopping trip is a blur, except for you turning a corner too fast and nearly dumping him out of the cart or the weird looks shoppers continue to give you because by the time you’re lining up in the queue, nagi is buried under the items because he takes up too much space. there’s a bag of rice on one shoulder, a pack of ramen on the other and fresh radishes sprouting from the snowy peaks of his head. not to mention, he’s still holding the pack of ice pops, condensation dripping over his hands.

“you’re making them melt, sei.” because he runs hot a heated blanket in the summer, and you can sympathize with the poor popsicles being defrosted in his big hands.

“‘m gonna eat one so they won’t— oh, hey this one is lemon,” he says, prying open the cardboard lid and tearing open the plastic wrapper of a lemon crème ice pop. tongue peeking out to lick before he’s holding it over his shoulder for you to taste next. “try it. i don’t sound as cute as you when i eat them.”

“sei, you’re not supposed to open those before we—” but nagi pushes the cold treat between your lips insistently, your eyes rounding wide, whining in protest as the ice pop hits your sensitive teeth. but it does taste good— creamy, sweet and sour flavors coating the surface of your tongue. “oh, it’s sh’good. we should get another pack.”

“see? y’make the cutest sounds when you suck it.”

“shut up, seishiro.”

you begin placing the items on the conveyor belt, listening to the irritating bleep, bleep, bleep of the scanner as the cashier rings up each product. you’re not frugal, but you peep at the total on the screen every now and then with a wince.

“that’s it for you, or are you buying the man in your cart too, ma’am?” the cashier asks, glancing at nagi as he finishes off the melting ice pop in the shopping cart, chin resting on top of his knees.

“no,” and you giggle, cheeks warming as you roll your eyes in exasperation. “this one is already mine.”

#little novels.#nagi x reader #nagi x you #nagi fluff #nagi seishiro x reader #nagi seishiro x you #blue lock x reader #blue lock fluff #blue lock x you #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk fluff

3K notes · View notes

shhhsecretsideblog · 2 months

Note

7 for the prompts, maybe a car birth?

I love a car birth, it’s such a good trope! Thanks for the request. Apparently my brain isn’t capable of simply writing a regular car birth, had to add a little twist- it’s not technically a car. Enjoy :) [3k words, fpreg, clothing birth] Prompt: “I don’t think the baby is gonna wait that long…”

We All Scream For Ice Cream

My contractions had started this morning and after three kids perhaps I should have known better. Yes they were consistent but they weren’t strong and were completely manageable. I’d called my parents to tell them my labour had started and they came to collect the kids so I didn’t have to worry about watching over them as I laboured. I spent the morning pottering around the house doing laundry and some cleaning, working through the steady waves whenever they washed over me. But after a while I started getting frustrated being inside the same four walls; I needed some air and space. It was the height of the summer holidays and you were up and out early for work to maximise our income during your busiest time of year. I knew you’d only taken the ice cream truck to the local park, you stopped going too far afield as I got closer to the end of this pregnancy - you wanted to be close in case I needed you to come home. I decided a nice walk through the park would do me good and would help with the contractions. Plus it gave me a chance to see you and let you know baby number four was on the way.

The breeze felt wonderful on my hot and clammy skin as I waddled my way down the residential streets cupping the underside of my heavy baby bump. If I pressed into the stretched skin just above my pubic bone I could feel the head of the baby sitting extremely low, perfectly in position and ready to be born. I was excited to tell you I was in labour again, maybe you could finish work early today and come help me through it this afternoon when it would inevitably ramp up.

I suffered a couple of contractions on my way to the park but they didn’t phase me - after three births I was all too familiar with the tightening and contracting of my muscles. I simply stopped, bracing my hands against a neighbours fence or a nearby street lamp, and swayed and hummed my way through them, letting the waves wash over me.

By the time I reached the park I was getting pretty hot and sweaty, but it was a warm day in the middle of summer and I was 9 months pregnant. Overheating was just par for the course. I saw your truck parked on the opposite side of the field next to the kids play area. I never thought this park was very big but right now, with my labouring belly, the journey across the green seemed a mile long. I sat on a bench to catch my breath before making the journey, watching you hand ice creams to all the kids and families that filled the park. You had such a sparkle in your eye as you handed the ice cream to its recipient, seeing the glee and excitement in each and every child’s face when they got their summery treat.

A contraction tore me away from watching you, its sharp and insistent pain coursing through my hips and legs. “Hoooooo… take it easy there…” I softly said, rubbing the large circumference of my belly as the baby kicked and shifted even lower.

A stranger walking by asked if I was okay, but with the look of panic in their face I told them it was just a kick. I didn’t get the feeling they’d handle it well if they knew a labouring mother was out here on her own in the park. After the contraction was over I awkwardly pushed myself up, cupping my low belly, and started walking over the luscious green grass. A long queue had formed for ice cream, you were busy rushing around the truck getting lolly’s out of freezers or adding sprinkles to soft whips. You didn’t have the time to notice my approach.

I thankfully didn't have a contraction as I waddled across the park but I could feel one coming as I approached the truck. I hurried past the line and nipped behind the vehicle, only just managing to make it away from the crowd before the intensity peaked. I quickly planted both palms against the truck and leaned into the contraction, taking deep long breaths, in and out, bracing through the pain and breathing the baby down. My hips were circling instinctively and I was glad no one was on this side of the ice cream truck as it would be very obvious I was in labour.

I waited for the line of customers to go down, riding out a few contractions during that time, before I rounded the corner and stood in front of the window.

“What can I get- Honey! What are you doing here?” Your eyes lit up and you broke into a wide smile, surprised but happy to see me.

“I thought I’d come and say hi.” I said, one hand rubbing my tight stomach.

“Where are the kids?” You asked, seeing that I was alone.

“With my parents.” I answered with a knowing smile, waiting to see if you’d put the pieces together.

“With your…. Wait, are you-?” Your eyebrows raised and eyes widened as you looked directly to my very pregnant belly.

“Yup, I’m in labour. Contractions started this… this m-morning…. Hoooooo” Another wave creeps up on me and I’m forced to grab on to the little shelf at the bottom of the window, hands gripping tight as the pain lances through my body.

You jumped out the back door of the van and were standing behind me in an instant. You held my hips and squeezed hard, pressing into the pressure points that would ease the pain, knowing exactly what I needed from our previous births. I let out a soft and grateful moan as I relaxed back into you.

“Oh honey, you could have just called, you know.” You laughed and kissed the back of my neck.

“I like seeing your reaction… hoooo…. when I tell you I’m in labour.” I manage to say, though the pains were starting to make it difficult to speak.

“What, so you can see me panic?! You’re evil, you know that.” You joked affectionately.

When the contraction faded you released your grip and I turned around, your arms quickly wrapping around me.

“Baby number four eh. So what was your plan after coming to tell me?” You said in my ear, giving me a squeeze.

“I figured I’d go back home, and then call you when things get more serious.”

“How long do you reckon for this one then?”

“I dunno. It’s definitely progressing faster than the others.”

“How fast?” You arched an eyebrow and looked down at me with concern.

Before I could answer, another contraction struck. My hands laced around your neck and I buried my face in your chest, unable to contain the groan from my throat.

“Jeeze, hun, that was quick. It's okay I’ve got you.” You added, feeling my knees dip slightly. “Just ride the wave, deep breaths.”

I couldn’t speak, consumed by the heavy weight that was sinking lower and lower and lower…. My hips circled and bounced, my fingers tightly gripping each wrist as I practically hung off your sturdy frame. Your hands were on my ribs holding me steady. Groaning rumbled my throat, getting deeper as the pressure in my pelvis skyrocketed, and the noise ended with a grunt.

“Fuck, babe - was that a push?” You asked with panic, surprised at just how deep into labour I was.

“No…. I don’t think so but- hoooooo- there’s so much pressure. Baby feels really low-oooohhhhh!” I whimpered.

“Have your waters broken?” You asked and I shook my head against you in response.

“I don’t think this labour is going to last as long as you think, judging by those sounds.” You warned, your thumbs affectionately rubbing my ribs while you held me steady.

“Hooooo…. I swear it wasn’t this b-bad when I left the house…. Feels like it’s come out of nowhere.” I say, feeling the pain dull enough for me to stand on my own and release my arms from your neck.

“Well they do say it gets quicker with each birth. Right, I think we need to get you back home. Then we can pick up the hospital bag, jump in the car and drive over there.”

“I… I’m not sure I’m going to be able to walk back home…” I admit, holding my bump with both hands, the weight and pressure felt constant even without a contraction.

“Okay… erm… I’ll take us back in the truck?” You suggest hesitantly.

“What? No way. There’s only a driver's seat - what am I supposed to do - get in the back with the soft serve?” I gripe with a roll of my eyes.

“It’s only a few minutes back to our house. You got any better ideas?”

Another contraction steals any response I could make and I’m suddenly hunched over, hand bracing my thighs, and groaning behind closed lips. You offer your arms as support but I wave them away, the combination of heat & pressure overwhelming, I didn’t want to be touched. Instead you jumped in the truck and I could hear you banging around, closing freezer drawers and locking cabinets, but it was all background noise to me. My heartbeat thumped in my ears, the pressure between my thighs was worsening making me grunt. My fingers gripped my legs and I pushed my hips backwards, my body acting solely on instinct. Before the wave of this contraction was over I felt something give, my legs squatting, and a puddle started to form at my feet.

“Ooooohhhhh honey- my waters have broken…” I grunt out. Gosh, I could feel the baby’s head on my cervix and I really started to worry about how long we actually had before our fourth child made their appearance.

“We need to get going, babe.” You said jumping out the van and coming over to support me. We waited for the contraction to fade and you then helped me crawl into the truck. I was glad to be wearing my maternity leggings and a thin top; it made manoeuvring into the vehicle much easier than if I was in one of my summer dresses.

“Right, I’ve locked everything away so it all should stay put on the drive, you won’t get covered in ice cream don’t worry.” You try to joke as I huff and puff my way into the cramped truck. “Why don’t we get you sitting down on the floor..?” You suggest, climbing in after me to try to help me get comfortable.

“Ooohhhh no… can’t sit down. Baby too low… fuck.” Crawling on my hands and knees I settle near the large rectangular freezer that was directly under the window booth. Staying on my knees I sit back on my heels and rest my arms on my legs, my bump sitting between my widened thighs. “I’ll just… stay like this. Drive carefully though…”

“Of course I will, precious cargo.” You said with a smile before giving me a kiss.

You shut the back doors of the ice cream truck behind you when you left, ran around to the driver’s seat and quickly started the engine. “Hold on sweetie, we’ll be home soon.” You said, putting it into gear and setting off.

We barely made it out of the park and onto the tarmac road before the next contraction struck, and without my waters it soon became apparent just how close this baby was to being born. Leaning forward and grasping the top ridge of the freezer in front of me, I tried to breath through the building pressure that was pulling and squeezing my insides. My moaning was instinctual at this point, my body’s way of riding the crashing waves of pain. Whether it was the motion of the truck or my kneeling position, but something triggered a need to push. At the end of each groan I could feel my body bearing down.

“H-how long to get to the h-hospital once we get h-home?” I stutter.

“Hospital is about 35 minutes from our house. Why?”

“I don’t think the baby is going to wait that long…. Hooooo…” I breathe, hips lifting and rocking in circles just above my feet. “Go straight to hospital, don’t go via home….”

“But we don’t have any of the stuff, for you or the baby?” You question, but still follow the instruction immediately altering our journey.

“Doesn’t-matter-nnngghhhhhh!” I gruff out before lowing deeply, bearing down again, my knuckles turning white with my grip on the freezer.

“Are you pushing??!!!” You shout.

“Can’t-help-it-”

“Shall I pull over?” You panic at hearing the familiar sounds of me pushing a baby down.

“No! Just- hospital- now!” My head dips as the wave ends and I try to catch my breath in between contractions.

We were still navigating the residential streets so thankfully weren’t going fast, but that meant we were still a way off from the hospital outside of town. My knees wide on the floor and arms stretching up gripping the fridge were the only thing keeping my body and my mind grounded. I closed my eyes, taking long deep breaths and disappeared into myself. Stay calm, you've done this before, I told myself.

“How we doing?” You asked nervously after a few minutes of silence.

“Just… drive…” I exhaled heavily, preparing myself for the next wave to hit.

And hit it did; suddenly every part of my being squeezed and screamed at me to push and I had no choice but to comply. My legs widened as far as they’d go, I pulled my body closer towards the fridge, lifting myself up and hanging off the ridge with my forearms. The head was starting to peek through, I could feel it, and there was no way I could hold off from bearing down. My hips tilted backward and I pushed with everything I had. A long and guttural moan sang from my lungs as I pushed, the head slowly crowning into my underwear. We weren’t going to make it!

“Stop!!!!” I screamed. “Pull over!”

“But-”

“The head-is-coming out…. Pull over now!”

The truck rocked and shuddered as you brought it to a halt. You sprang from the driver’s seat and on your way accidentally switched on the jingle sounds of the ice cream truck, the tune ringing from the speakers on the roof.

I barely noticed the doors to the truck being opened and closed, or you climbing inside - all my energy was focused solely on getting this baby out of me.

“What can I do?” You frantically asked, but only got more guttural noises in reply as I continued to bear down.

Releasing the push with a huff, I panted quickly saying “I think it’s crowning… hoooo…”

“We need to get those leggings off babe. Are you able to move? If you can get on all fours I should be able to roll them down.” You were as white as a sheet but you squashed your fears, knowing I’d need assurance and confidence right now.

Following your instructions I moved to all fours, and I soon felt your hands around my waist pulling at the tight fabric trying to roll it over the large bump and down my thighs. We had to stop part way for another contraction and another round of pushing. The baby’s head was stretching me so wide and I could tell it must be showing through the fabric when I heard you gasp.

“Oh my god, the head is coming out!” You exclaimed.

“I know that! I can feel it.” I snipped sarcastically.

“Sorry honey. You’re doing amazing. But I still need to get these leggings off you…”

I grunt, bearing down once more with the contraction, and I can feel the resistance of the baby hitting the wall of my stretched leggings. When the push was over I cried out “Go! Do it now!” and you scrambled at the waistband of my clothing and rolled the elasticated fabric down my damp thighs.

“Do you want me to take them completely off?” You asked but I could barely think, the next wave was already here and all I could do was push.

I wanted to widen my knees, to open up my burning hips to make the required space for the baby to pass through, but the tight fabric of the leggings pulled around my knees was preventing any further movement. I whimpered in my struggle; I needed to open my body wider and push but I simply couldn’t. In my desperation I went from my hands down to my elbows, my forehead touching the floor, my backside raised to the sky and I pushed with everything I had. I needed to get the head out and I had to get it out now.

“Easy babe,” you said softly, and I could feel your hand over the baby’s emerging head. “Take it steady, it’s crowning. Try and pant if you can, let it come on its own.”

“Hooohooo- oh fuck- I need to get it out…. Can’t hold off- oh I need to push!” I screamed.

Before you could tell me otherwise my body jerked as the head popped out and I groaned at the relief. Lifting my head slightly I bring a trembling hand down my body and between my thighs to feel - your hands were there too, cupping the newly born head of our child. You moved, letting me feel - the ears the nose, the hair - our baby. Your fingers then gently stroked the back of my hand, no words were said as our hands entwined, squeezing each other. The love, encouragement and support all conveyed within that squeeze.

We were suddenly startled by a gentle knocking on the window booth.

“Hey mister, can I have an ice cream please?” The excited voice of a child said from outside the truck.

With the delirium and exhaustion of childbirth I couldn’t help but laugh. You heard my hitched breathing, worried I was crying, and asked “Babe, what is it? Are you okay?”

My laughs got a bit more distinguished as I raised back up onto my hands and twisted to look at you. “This is one hell of a birth story…” I giggled.

“Ha. Maybe this one will take over the family business.” You joke, relieved to see me smiling during this eventful and inconvenient birth. “Sorry kid, no ice cream today.” You shouted through the walls of the truck.

“Oooo- hoooo- babe… mnggghhhh… it’s coming….” I shift and grunt, bracing both hands on the floor and surrendering to the contraction once more. “Fuck… why didn’t we take my leggings off!?”

“Keep going babe, the shoulders are coming. You can do it. Yes!… one shoulder…”

“Grrrrhhhhhhhh!!!!” I groaned loud and long, pushing through the excruciating stretch of the shoulders.

“…two shoulders… and again push honey push!!!!”

“Mnnnghhhh- catch it!!!” I screamed, and a second later the baby fell into your waiting hands and instantly cried.

Tears sprang from my eyes at the sound and I immediately twisted my body and legs around so you could hand me the babe.

“It’s a girl.” You said proudly, putting the slippery newborn against my chest.

“Hi baby… hi.” I cooed, lifting my thin t-shirt and placing her against my chest. “You were in a hurry weren’t you.”

#birth denial #birth kink #clothing birth #birth fic #inconvenient birth #public birth #birth fiction #birth prompts #car birth #answered asks #my writing

271 notes · View notes

little-miss-dilf-lover · 4 months

Note

Hey girlll I love ur writing. Can u do like a tangerine taking care of a pregnant wife or girlfriend. I’m not sure if u already did one I couldn’t find it but thankyouuu 💖💖💖💖💖

hii honey!! thank you! ive done hcs but realised ive never actually written a fic about it??? (I think) thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

BABY BRAIN.

tangerine x fem!reader — fluff

word count. 443

"Can I get you anything while I'm out here, love?" your husband calls out to you from the kitchen - his head poking out to see you in the other room.

You're in the living room, slumped in the armchair, too big to move —or so it feels— your thirty-week-old baby in your belly making you feel like a whale.

"Just a tea, please, honey," you reply, looking up at him from across the way. "Oh— and you know how you do those really cute little heart sandwiches? Can you make me one of those, please?"

He smiles, nodding. "Anything else?"

You take a moment, trying to figure out what your body wants. "Can I get some pickles, too, please? Just in a little bowl— only a few."

Tangerine lingers in the doorway, anticipating you have more to say.

"... and an ice lolly. I'm feeling dizzy again," you pause, trying to figure out if you've already eaten them - your baby brain making things difficult to retrace. "There should be a new box at the bottom of the freezer," you say, speaking hopefully.

With Tangerine knowing your nausea has returned, he leaves his spot in the kitchen doorframe, walking over to the freezer to fetch your frozen treats. But then you hear a quiet 'fuck', the sound almost disappointed.

He walks back into your viewline, softly shaking his head. "They're all gone, darlin'."

It was silly how much those words upset you. It was the only thing you really needed - the sandwiches and pickles coming from a place of want.

Your lips turn down into a frown, the bottom one almost wobbling. "Did you check all the drawers?"

He hums, making his way closer to you. "I did," he nods, taking a seat at the edge of the coffee table - sitting in front of you.

"Even the top one? Sometimes I hide things in there," you say quietly, trying not to get emotional over an ice lolly.

"I did, darlin'. I checked them all."

You pause, your expression begging not to cry. "Can we get some more?"

Your husband fights off a smile, trying not to upset you any further by him finding it all so endearing. "Course," he nods, standing up.

He presses a kiss into your forehead before moving out into the hallway - collecting a pair of shoes for you —ones that only required to be slipped on—

He assists as you put your shoes on, him crouched down, doing the work for you. And when you go to stand, he slips his hand into yours - helping you up.

"Can we go to the drive-thru, too?"

AAHHHHHHHHHHHH NOT OKAY🥹

#tangerine #tangerine x reader #dad tangerine #tangerine fluff #tangerine bullet train

197 notes · View notes

rikiluvly · 1 year

Text

✴︎ ⎯ ENHYPEN AND THEIR GAMING HABITS

enhypen ot7 x fem!reader | headcanon

HEESEUNG

prioritizes you over any game he plays

super touchy and playful.

you wanna cuddle and watch a movie? sure he’ll put down anything and everything just to look at you.

If he feels like he has been on for too long he will instantly get off and bombard you with kisses.

sometimes you would come over to sit on his lap when you required affection.

he would then place his head on your shoulder as you played with his hair.

when he felt like it he would invite you over to play with him.

he would let you win obviously but you didn’t have to know that.

“great job babe, you’re a natural,”

he would play games like Minecraft or Roblox because he isn’t into all those games with boring storylines.

rages sometimes but it’s okay because it’s Heeseung.

JAY

not so kind.

loves you immensely but when it comes to his gaming and his set-up he’s a bit protective.

you come to sit on his lap as he plays? ignores you.

if he gets irritated too much he might push you off.

no offense though. he was just busy.

if the odd time he invites you to play with him, he wouldn’t be so nice.

has to keep that reputation on top so you are most likely to lose.

"aww, you know with a little practice maybe you'll get better love,"

"but you never even let me play?"

apart from that if you need anything he is always there.

he always has time to cuddle or give you kisses don’t worry.

"sorry if I was harsh on you today babe,"

JAKE

Jake is someone who prefers to spend time with you.

he only really games when you are not home or he's bored.

waists no time in turning his screen off when you need something.

If Jake is gaming when you get home then you can go and sit on his lap and he won’t mind.

“I missed you, baby,” he’d say after a long day of not seeing you.

“me too, can I just sit here for a while?”

“of course babe,” and then he’d just continue playing.

Ni-ki and Jungwon who were on call heard everything, but Jake has no shame.

Jake is actually a pro Fortnite player.

obviously it not being something he brags about a lot because it's something that was left back in 2019.

when he invites you to play he lets you win because he loves to see you smile.

"yes! I bet you!"

"I'm so proud of you baby!"

SUNGHOON

Sunghoon is a bit of a mix between 'don't touch my stuff’ and 'no of course I love you more than my gaming setup,'

his setup is probably the most expensive shit you have ever seen, he doesn't even bother to buy you a packet of lollies sometimes.

he doesn't mind you bothering him, well unless you don't touch his stuff.

"you're so cute babe, but don't touch my stuff,"

If he invites you to join him you are usually the one to win because he feels bad.

but later on in the day, he’d admit he let you win.

loves to cuddle with you in his own time.

Sunghoon is the type of person to talk about you on a call with Jake.

“you don’t understand how amazing she is dude.”

“your making us lose this round you simp!”

SUNOO

sweetest person ever.

rarely plays games but you treated him to a full setup anyways.

sometimes he encourages you to interrupt him when he is on a game with Jungwon and Ni-ki.

“oh damn sorry guys my girlfriends here, talk to you later!”

then he’d shut down everything and cuddle with you.

plays games like The Last Of Us because he feels that the gaming world needs more pride.

when you offer to play with him you mostly win because if your being honest he’s not the best.

he claims he’s better at you than Roblox obby’s though.

Sunoo prefers to spend time with you when he’s not looking at a screen.

“come on sweetheart that’s enough gaming for today.”

“just one more round?”

you know he can’t resist your puppy eyes.

“fineee.”

JUNGWON

Jungwon wants to make you feel special.

he knows that you don’t mind when he plays games but he doesn’t want to leave you out.

“cmon y/n I know your not the best at this game but can you give it a try?”

he can be very clingy

he claims he doesn’t want you to be alone but the real reason is that he doesn’t want to be alone.

he plays games like ‘The Walking Dead’ or ‘Until Dawn’.

terrible at Minecraft and Roblox.

refuses to play Minecraft because he gets sad when he has to kill the animals to eat them.

he’s such a rage quitter.

when Jungwon gets bored or rage quits he usually smashes his headphones down and flops onto bed with you.

love kisses and being the little spoon.

“that game has made me tired babe.”

“I did most the work though?”

“well looking at you made me tired.”

“alright then won.”

NI-KI

absolutely insane.

Ni-ki is probably the loudest person you have ever met.

he screams at the computer like it’s gonna attack him or something.

but when he rages it gets worse.

“YOU STUPID COMPUTER! YOU MADE ME LOSE!”

you’ve learned to get used to it though.

If it gets bad you have to go over to calm him down.

“It's okay babe, you’ll get it next time,” you say as you rub his shoulders.

he’s super sweet outside of when he is gaming and you don’t know how he does it.

one second he is punching his computer and the next he is giving you cuddles and offering to buy you ice cream.

if he’s on call with Sunghoon and Heeseung they usually mute him because they know what’s coming.

hates Roblox with all his life.

he says it’s for ‘little kids’ but still continues to play fashion famous?

“hey babe what are you playing?”

“NOTHING!”

A/N: here is a little something before Middle of Nowhere part 2 comes out <3

#enhahearts #enhypen x reader #niki x reader #nishimura riki #enhypen #nishimura riki x reader #heeseung x reader #park sunghoon x reader #jake sim x reader #jay x reader #sunoo x reader #jungwon x reader #ni ki x reader #enhypen headcannons #kpop

544 notes · View notes

heywardsdoll · 3 months

Text

pope hates bringing you with him on a pogue mission. but usually you cry your way into it, fat tears welling in your eyes as you tugged on his shirt. and all he needs to cave in is seeing your pretty pout, and the way your eyes shine with sadness.

"i don't want to be left out. i really don't pope," you whisper, folding your arms as you hope he understands. pope raises his eyebrows before you tug on his t-shirt again.

it's here that he looks away from you, "shit, you can't do that to me. seriously, you can't just do that!" then you sniffle, a sorry sound and he seems to sigh, shoulders caving in as he tries to look anywhere but you. "fine, fine. grab your coat on the way out, it's kinda chilly outside."

that's pope. no matter what, even if he was mad at you, he was taking care of you. he's glare, even scowl as he saw you get what you want—but then soon after he'd be tucking your shirt in, or getting you some water because hydration is important, it's even worse with the pogues because you look like a baby. it makes it seem like you couldn't take care of yourself, but you couldn't help but flush every single time he holds you in your arms, or places a careful kiss on your forehead.

he's thoughtful, and it's horrible when he corners you to secretly kiss you when you're on the way to find the cross. theres something so intimate about him whispering about purpose, and how he's finally got what his ancestors wanted him. it's that feverish emotion that makes you want to be there for him.

but there are too many close calls, from the time pope got stung by bees, to rafe following you a few too many times.

sometimes you work at the grocery store, checking in people's stuff, telling the old lady where she can find cornstarch, and then helping the little boy who cried about his red lolly getting lost under the shelves, (his brother had kicked it under there.) pope would always come to find you, all sweaty and tired before you hung your hands over his head and then kissed him softly.

but one time he came a bit too late, and rafe had been your last customer. there was a shit-eating smile on his face, as he smirked before placing a pack of mint gum on the counter.

"is that all?" you muttered, trying not to look him in the eye. pope had told you about the type of person rafe cameron was, and for all you knew he could do what he wanted to do, and could get away with it, a hundred times. no one in the store except him, and it was almost six o'clock.

"yeah, uh," he drawled pulling out his couple of bucks, "keep the change."

you nodded putting the money into the cash register, the small ding of the register calming as you touched your necklace protectively. it's stupid, you know, but the pink taser gun that pope had jokingly bedazzled sticks to your side as a reminder as you could feel his eyes on you. rafe dark eyes followed you as you shut the cash register, giving him a cold smile. your hands are sticky with sweat.

suddenly he's almost out of the door, and you let out a sigh of relief before you here his almost-bored voice drone out. theres snark in his comment.

"tell your boy we're watching him. shit, uh–and," rafe laughed, a boisterous sound before winking, "tell him to stay on the low. it's dangerous out here and you don't wanna get caught with anything, you know?" then he grins, before popping a piece of gum in his mouth, teeth shining bright and you couldn't help but shiver.

later that night, you were hyperventilating so hard, pope had to put his arms over you and kiss you repeatedly, soft and soothing. you have to keep reaching for him to tell yourself pope was fine, and that rafe was just threatening for no reason, and that you were being overbearing.

"he's sick, and he's twisted pope! i want to keep you safe. please, please stay safe," you choked out, your hands to your side as you walked in circles. you kept taking sharp breaths as pope tried to calm you down.

pope had sighed, "doll, i will stay safe, but i don't like that he's talking about this stuff to you. i want to keep you away from it, i mean when i met your mom—" then he cocks an eyebrow in your direction, but then stops right there. it's almost condescending, knowing where this is going to go. he's telling you not to come, but you have to go with him because you have to keep him safe. you can't lose him, you just can't.

"are you saying i shouldn't come with you guys anymore?" you whisper out, a sharp warning in your voice as you bit your lip. he had looked away from you, and then raised his hands in defeat and the conversation was over.

but here you were, laying in his lap in the twinkie. you were completely wiped out as pope ran a hand over your face. you murmur something under your breath before snuggling closer to him. jj lets out a low whistle, wiggling his eyebrows, only to get a disapproving look from pope.

"she got you under her paws, doesn't she?" jj crowed, and you stir as pope rolls his eyes, looking at john b for support. john b just smiles, giving pope a pointed look. it was true, pope would do practically anything for you.

then comes the serious sigh. pope's eyebrows are creased, as he absentmindedly rubs circles on your shoulder. you smile softly in your sleep, warm as ever.

quickly enough jj snaps his fingers in pope's face, "hey man, what the hell was that sigh about? all wistful and shit." jj muttered, a confused look on his face before shaking pope.

"i-," pope started, before shaking his head, "nah, it's stupid." he's still got his hands on you, playing with the string bracelet that you gave him. it was a old thing, practically falling apart, and jj made fun of it.

now it's jj's turn to snort, shoving pope with an indignant expression "you stupid? c'mon what's got your pretty head in a ditzy?"

"i don't know. john b back me up on this but, i don't like seeing my girl around this stuff. it kills me, to see her racing after the same danger as us," pope muttered, groaning as he looked away from your face, "and the other day rafe cornered her and she was scared shitless."

then he shakes his head, "and you know what, i should be protecting her from that sort of stuff, but no, no!" he grins but it's full of resentment, "no, i'm introducing her to it."

now this has the boys attention. jj gave pope a sympathetic look, patting him on the back as john b nodded. the playful demeanour of the conversation stirred into something else.

"i get it, man. we all want to keep her safe," john b said, his voice calm and reassuring. "but she's tough. she's stronger than you think."

"yeah, but it's not just about being tough," pope replied, face screwed up with frustration, toying with a lock of your hair. "i know she's tough! tougher than me sometimes. but it's about not wanting her to be exposed to this shit at all. she deserves better."

quickly john b sighed, hand on the wheel and it was almost as if his dark circles were more evident than ever.

"you think i don't worry about sarah?" john b countered, his tone soft but firm. "i worry about her all the time, but she made her choice to be with us, to face whatever comes our way. it's the same with your girl. she chose to be with you, to stand by your side, no matter the danger."

pope sighed again, his hand still gently caressing your shoulder. "i know, i just... i don't want to be the reason something happens to her."

"then keep doing what you're doing," jj interjected, his voice surprisingly gentle. "protect her, look out for her. but don't push her away. she's here because she loves you, man. she wants to be with you, even if it means facing danger."

pope nodded, his gaze softening as he looked down at your peaceful face. "yeah, i know. it's just hard sometimes."

"it's hard because you care," john b said, offering a reassuring smile. "and that's a good thing. just don't forget to trust her, too. she can handle more than you think."

the conversation lulled as the twinkie rolled on through the night, the familiar hum of the engine a comforting background noise. pope could hear the birds chirp, and he settled his head on the window before getting up with a confused expression.

"shit, when did you guys get so smart?" pope groaned, "it was easier when i was surrounded by idiots,"

jj laughed, resting a hand on pope's shoulder. "took a page out of your book, maybe it's time you take a page out ours," he winked, nudging pope gently.

pope finally looked down at you, a soft sigh leaving his mouth as you stirred slightly, mumbling something in your sleep. and for what it was worth—pope smiled, leaning down to kiss your forehead gently.

#pope heyward x reader #pope heyward prompt #dividers by crylynnluv #shy!reader #lamb!reader #obx fic #thank you for the support my loves ᥫ᭡.

155 notes · View notes

hellenhighwater · 1 year

Text

One of the things female cats will do, sometimes, is put multiple litters of kittens together to be raised communally. My five foster babies were all brought to the shelter together, not a mom in sight. I'm becoming increasingly convinced that Lollygag and Malcontent are not related to Pinstripe, Flintlock, and Malarkey.

For one, Lolly and Malcontent are about half the size of the other kittens, and noticeably developmentally behind. They also have coat textures that seem to be likely to develop into longer hair, while the other three are definitely shorthairs. You can see the size difference between Malcontent and Malarkey here. It's possible the little ones are just runts, I suppose, but it seems likelier to me that they're unrelated.

It would be nice if Lolly and Malcontent got adopted together, but I don't think it'll be too likely through the shelter. They're a great pair in temperament--Malcontent, ironically, is a very content, calm little guy, and is by far the cuddliest kitten. Lollygag is a little primadonna, bold and chatty, and is such a striking kitten I'd be shocked if she wasn't adopted first. Quiet, drab little Malcontent may have a harder time catching someone's eye.

It's actually really great to adopt kittens in pairs though. They do better with a same-age playmate, they have someone to keep them company when the humans are away, and they learn better claws manners when they have other cats around. And two kittens are not significantly more work than one; in some ways, having two kittens to keep each other entertained can be less work than one bored agent of chaos.

Anyways. If you're in Michigan and looking for a kitten or two, hit me up. They'll all be adoptable when they get big enough to be fixed.

929 notes · View notes

klttn · 5 months

Note

Can we get some husk smut with a brat reader pretty please!!🥺

𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒻𝓊𝒸𝓀𝒾𝓃’ 𝓁𝑜𝓁𝓁𝒾𝓅𝑜𝓅

pairing : husk x f!reader

content!! : smut! spanking. slapping. husk has a knot. shh don’t look at me like that. knotting and breeding.

summary : you just want husk to be rougher with you so angel gets you a little slutty and tipsy and lets husk deal with the aftermath and brattiness.

"angieee, are you sure about this?” you whined, slight buzz causing a little slur as you spoke.

angel smirked at you, “of course, honey, all men love a bit of skin, especially with tits and ass like yours,” he posed, imitating your figure, winking in the process.

you don't know how you let yourself be convinced into this, you just wanted to get to husk, make him jealous. but now, you were several shots in, that was just your pre drinks, and wearing a skirt so short and top so revealing, being naked would be more modest.

the tiny piece of fabric you had on barely touched the bottom of your ass, hugging it just so that you could see the faint outline of the lingerie set you had on underneath it. husk’s favourite set of yours.

the matching corset bra made your boobs look ravishing. husks favourite thing about it. the soft flesh of your tits spilling out of it oh so cutely. the tightness gripping you just so, drawing all the attention to the contrast of your waist.

you tried to convince angel you would need a top but he thought otherwise.

the look was finished off with sheer lacey stockings that only accentuated the curve of your thighs more and a pretty ribbon tangled into a bow in your hair, just the way husk liked it.

“baby, you look hot, hotter than me, hot.” angel sighed, dragging you out of your thoughts and handing you another shot which you gladly accepted. “now let’s get this show on the road, my moneys on we don’t even make it to the door.”

you giggled at angels exclamation before grabbing a candy lollipop to suck on, feeling more n more of the alcohol take over you. “you’re so silly, angie.”

he sent a cheesy smile your way as you let him take ahold of your hand to pull you down the stairs to where husk was tending the bar.

the closer you got the more nervous you got, the excitement of the alcohol mixing with the rush of what was to come.

that’s when you made eye contact with husk. you gulped tasting the sweet strawberry in your mouth.

“what the fuck.” it wasn’t a question that left husks mouth but a statement. “y/n what the fuck are you wearing.”

angel smirked and lent on a nearby wall, watching as you strutted over to husk.

“an outfit, dummy, do you like it?” you teased, twirling your hips, letting your skirt sway up just enough for him to see your ass.

husk more than liked it. “fuckin christ, have you been drinking?”

you moved your finger to your lips pulling out the red candy with a pop, giggling a little as you did so, “i’m going out with angie, wanted to look cute n we had some drinks in his room!!”

cute? you looked like pure sin. and husk was trying desperately not to imagine something else filling up where that stupid piece of candy rested.

you noticed husk eye your mouth as you slipped the treat back in, lips all puffy now from sucking. “so i have you to blame, huh?” he shifted his attention toward angel, eyeing him up in the corner.

“easy, big boy, she looks cute does she not?” angel asked, your eyes shifting to husks, hopeful and wide.

husk looked you up and down before cursing under his breath, “fuck, you know she does,” he almost whines, feeling the affect you had on him, “but you’re not going out looking like that.”

you huffed, rolling your eyes, “try n stop me, kitty,” you whispered to husk, leaning forward and kissing him, pushing the lolli past his lips and giving it to him before attempting to walk back to angel.

“that fuckin lollipop.” husk clicked his tongue, crunching the sweet and grabbing you by the hips, throwing you over his back, “you’re not going out looking like that because you’re coming to my room with me and you won’t be leaving it for the next few hours.” he spat, landing a few swats to your ass where it was resting on his shoulder.

angel rolled his eyes, smiling, “be gentle with her, would you huskie?”

“she’ll be lucky if every inch of her body isn’t covered by the time you get home.”

“laters, you kinky fucks,” angel winked at you, heading for the door as you feigned trying to escape… not that you actually could. husk was strong, far stronger than you.

“husk. let me go,” you demanded as he carried you to his room.

“you can go when you learn some fuckin respect.”

you made it to husks room in a flash, him opening and locking the door before you could even form another sentence.

he was pissed. maybe you overdid it. just a little.

he threw you on the soft, familiar mattress of his bed before leaning over you, stern eyes watching your every move.

“what the fuck has gotten into you, doll?” you wouldn’t even look at him, afraid you’ll break seeing him so assertive. “you’re being such a brat.”

“hmph, am not.”

husk scoffed, almost finding this cute, almost.

“first you come down in that little outfit, then you’re getting your entire ass out for me and then that damn sucker, you were practically deepthroating it,” he looked down at your lips, still stained red, “gave me a stupid fucking boner.”

a small smile formed on your face as you looked at him, “it did?” you sat up, biting your lip, moving your hand to cup his bulge, heart racing when you did.

husk nodded and sighed a little in relief from the touch, aching to be free from his trousers.

you took your attention to your feet, fiddling with the hem of your skirt with your spare hand. “wasn’t gonna go out like this.”

“damn right you weren’t.”

“just-“ you cut yourself off, stopping to sigh.

husk lifted your chin up with his finger, forcing you to look at him, “use your words, doll, i’m done playing games.”

your eyes were so big and round looking at him like this, so innocent compared to the lewdness of the rest of your body.

“just wanted to rile you up, huskie.”

husk chuckled almost sadistically, “you mean to tell me this little show was just to get me to lose my shit, baby? to make me mad?”

a small bit of bravery peered its way through, “it’s not my fault you treat me like i’ll break at every corner,” you sassed.

“oh. so that’s what this is about?” smirk now donning husks face. “you’re being a little brat because your mean old man of a boyfriend won’t hurt you?” husk took advantage from where he was stood and laced his hand through your hair, massaging softly, careful not to ruin the pretty bow, “is that it, sweet thing?”

“husk…” you breathed, slightly nuzzling into his palm he had in your hair.

without warning, his other hand landed a slap to your face, not too hard but enough to leave a pleasurable sting and red mark. your lips parted, small mewl leaving your mouth. he’d never done this to you before.

you’d begged so many times but he refused. ‘how could i ever hurt my sweet girl.’ you assured him he didn’t have to be mean, you just liked the way it felt. it wasn’t enough.

but now, sweet was the farthest thing you had been to him tonight, and him being so mean to you was everything you didn’t know you were craving.

“shit,” husk muttered so low you could barely hear him, “you actually like this don’t you? you want me to be mean to you? want me to hurt you, little girl?”

you keened, nodding your head, spreading your legs for him, “want you to be mean, want you to hurt me, please daddy.”

daddy? curse you, angel.

“you’re such a pretty lil thing, gettin off from me slapping you,” another slap landed on your face, “need your nasty ol’ daddy to be cruel to you huh?”

you’d never seen this side of husk before. it was thrilling, a whole new type of hot and pleasure and he seemed to like it too.

you started rolling your hips into the air, needing something to hump.

“we’re gonna try somethin, doll,” husk slid his thigh between your legs, rubbing up against your cunt, “hump.”

“but-“

“but what, baby?

“s’embarrassing,” you whispered.

“i know, doll, i wanna see you all pathetic n humpin daddy’s thigh,” his expression dark and sultry, “punishment for lookin like the adorable little slut you are n makin me have t’ teach you a lesson.”

your hips started jutting slowly, letting out little whimpers, face flushing bright red, “good girlll,” husk praised, spuring you on.

“y’know what would be even more pathetic, takin those panties off n having you make a mess all over these slacks of mine.”

a whine left your throat, getting more n more turned on. “do you like the sound of that, darlin?” husk mocked before lifting your ass up to remove the tiny piece of fabric and placing you right where you left off.

the grinding doubled in pleasure now feeling everything against your bare pussy, head being thrown back as your humps got more desperate. “that’s it, baby, make a mess.”

you could see all your juices soaking into husks thigh as his cock twitched at the sight of you, his own hand coming down to assault your clit as you humped. “gonna cum, daddy, hit me, please, need you to slap me.” SLAP. you whimpered cutely, body starting to shake, getting ready to cum.

just before the rush of an orgasm could come husk pulled his thigh from between yours and stopped everything he was doing, retracting his hand from between your folds.

you started begging profusely, gripping to his thigh with your arms, trying to get him back, so desperate to cum, to finally have release.

“brats don’t get to cum,” he warned.

you whined and huffed signalling your annoyance at husk as sat down next you on the bed, pulling his cock free and patting his lap, “over my knee.”

“wh-“

“be good for me and bend over my knee, baby.”

you crawled over husks lap, arching your back, ass in the air for him. “such a pretty ass,” his cock pulsed against your tummy, “think it’d look cuter with daddy’s hand prints on it, don’t you think?”

you wiggled your ass, just wanting him to spank you already. smack. smack. smack. three harsh swats landed on you, making you whimper and jolt forward.

“so cute,” three more smacks.

husks soothing hand rubbed over the redness forming on your butt, slowly sliding itself to your bare pussy, “what about here?” he teased, a few slighter slaps straight onto your clit.

high pitched whines came from your throat as you pushed back into the touch.

“fuck me, you really are such a desperate little thing for pain aren’t you?” he teased, leaving your clit a couple more smacks and moving to do the same back to your ass.

you were squirming in his lap now, all flustered, cunt dripping n ass cherry red. you had little tear droplets running down your cheeks from the pleasure.

soft circles were being rubbed into your butt as husk praised you for taking the slaps so well. slipping his fingers in your pussy after your relaxed into his touch. “so wet for me.”

a soft moan left your lips, slowly pushing yourself back to fuck yourself on his fingers. “so eager.” he muttered, “sit still, baby, need to stretch you so my cock fits.”

he pushes two more fingers into you, putting his other hand round to your mouth for you to suck on, doing so eagerly and drooling around them.

“is this what you needed, doll? fingers in your mouth n cunt so you can’t be a brat?” you moaned around his fingers.

“mmmf-“ you tried to speak but couldn’t.

he pulled his fingers out your mouth, spit attached as he did, “what was that, doll?”

“need your-“ the curling of his fingers inside you cut you off with a needy whine, pressing against your walls just right, “need your knot.”

husk paused, cock violently twitching at the idea before he sat you up with ease and shifted you into straddling his lap, leaning back to look at you.

“yeah?” husk asked, “look at you,” he mused, rubbing his fingers over your hard nipples through the bra, “how is it you look this adorable after i’ve done such disgusting things to you?” he squeezed his fingers over your nipples, “and now you want my knot?”

“please-“

“how do you want it baby?” he left a lick across one of your nipples and bit it softly.

your eyes rolled back, “dont care, jus’ need you.” your voice was hoarse and breathy.

husk hummed in thought, contemplating his options before moving his mouth to your neck. you tilted your head for him allowing him full access, him now sucking and biting harshly, watching you fall further apart in his lap as he did.

“gonna make you wait, you’re gonna cockwarm me whilst i mark you up, got it?” only temporarily coming up to speak before continuing his assault on your neck.

“no no no, ahh- daddy, need your cock mmm- please!”

“shhh shh baby, calm down, you’re gettin my cock,” he cooed, moving his lips to your collarbones and moving your hips to line himself up with your pussy.

he picked you up by your waist and slid you down his cock, grunting, “so fuckin tight.” you yelped at the stretch, pushing yourself down for husk to bottom out. “is this better, babygirl?”

you nodded frantically, husk moved his hands to the back of your bra and undid it, pulling the mesh fabric off your arms and discarding it somewhere in the room.

“such cute tits, doll, gonna look even cuter when i mark ‘em.”

you could barely string a sentence together now, so far gone before he’d even started to fuck you. all you could do is whimper every time his teeth and tongue would touch your skin. and when he sucked, your pussy would squeeze around him always followed by a subtle thrust up of his cock.

you knew he couldn’t last much longer before he had to take you.

he pulled back from your boobs to look at his work, kissing over all the newly formed bruises. his hands then started sliding under your ass before flipping you over onto your back, dick slipping out in the process as he leaned over, dragging himself down your body, face inches away from your pussy.

you whimpered softly, feeling empty. “fuckin perfect,” husk said under his breath, taking your skirt off and spreading your thighs wider, placing himself inbetween. “such a cute cunt, baby.”

you whined louder, revelling in the words spilling out of husks mouth which were only heightened when he started kissing down your thighs. your hips bucked, needing the attention on your pussy, causing husk to bite, purple splotch forming where he rest.

“gonna fuck you now, okay doll? n i’m not gonna stop til my knot is splitting you open.” in an instant husk was hovering over you, cock already pushing against your cervix, balls deep and pounding into you.

“god baby, you feel so good.” your hair was messy, stockings half rolled down, body glistening with sweat and covered in hickeys.

all the tension from before making husks stamina falter, his release wasn’t far and the more he looked at you, the closer he got.

his thrusts were rough but steady, attacking that same spot with precision and he rut into you. “you’re fuckin mine.” husk growled, wings flailing out by his sides, booming power.

one of husks hands snaked around your neck, squeezing your throat. “my girl. only mine. that stupid slutty outfit, that bratty mouth, this fuckin body, all mine.” he was talking to himself at this point. you too fucked out to think or do anything but feel husks cock and your impending orgasm.

now holding your jaw, husk forced you to look at him, glassy eyes blown out and needy, he watched as your face contorted, noticing the new pleasure of his spare hand rubbing your clit.

lewd mewls left your lips and you felt your legs start to shake in anticipation, soso close.

“not so bratty now, are you? now you're cock drunk and ready to cum,” husks pace fastened, “so do it. cum for me.”

your hands latched onto husks chest, squeezing as you road out your high, husks cock finally relenting.

“shit,” husk whispered, you came down from your release, feeling husks throbbing knot growing in your pussy, stilling his movements n keeping himself planted deep inside you.

you smiled cutely, eyes closed n breathing still heavy, earning yourself a soft kiss on your collarbones as he scooped you up closer to him, husks big knot forcing you together.

he shifted you both so that you were laying down, still on him, legs either side with your head buried deep in his neck.

"im sorry for being bratty," you mumbled in the fur of his neck.

husk gently took your shoulders in his hands and pushed you back, sitting you up with care, a soft whimper falling from your lips, still filled to the brim. "oh darlin," he was rubbing circles into your back now, "don't worry about that, pretty girl,” he paused, “but besides, i think i got my revenge," he chuckled, hands travelling up your to your chest, smoothing over the dozens of marks left on your skin.

you hit husks chest softly, "think your the brat here… so possessive."

"oh yeah?" husks gaze making its way all over your body.

"mhm."

husk sighed, “you look so pretty like this. makes me wish i would’ve listened to you and done this sooner,” he raised a hand to move a strand of hair out of your face. “you know i just don’t wanna really hurt you, doll, ‘m not the overlord i used to be.”

you keened at husks softness, even after all the filthy things he had said to you and done to you, “i know, huskie.” you kissed his nose.

"now don't ever pull that shit again."

you giggled, “no promises, you look hot when you’re being mean,” falling back onto husks chest to make yourself comfy, waiting for husks knot to subdue. "so would've sold my soul to you for free in your overlord days."

husk sighed, letting out a small laugh, "silly girl."

A/N : okay okay so uhm this was a little wild and very long buuut i hope you liked it <3 this is for all my husk girlies

#mine ♡#⁺˳✧༚ dolly’s drabbles #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel husk x reader #hazbin hotel husk #hazbin husk #hazbin hotel reader insert #husk x reader #husk x you #reader x husk #you x husk #husk

195 notes · View notes