#Sorry again I’m so slow with replies…!

[beloveds-embrace]

The Sandman clip/ tiktok audio of "you came" "you called" just screams ex boyfriend/husband TF141 when you call them late at night because some creep is following you home or you're in trouble

WAIT YES YOU ARE RIGHT

It’s almost an instinct to call him first before anyone else, even after breaking up/divorcing. You tell yourself you can’t be blamed- he is a military man and despite all the hurdles that left your relationship in shambles, he was dependable when it came to safety.

And right now, walking slowly to your home with a fan following you- that man had to be kicked out of your workplace, you can remember him- you need his safety.

Something in your heart twinges when he accepts your call on the first ring. Some things truly never change, do they?

“He- hey,” you whisper immediately, and now that someone is here to hear you, the fearful tears build up in your eyes and you are sure he can hear the shakiness in your voice. You don’t give him a chance to say anything for now, though. “I- I know that we- we are not together anymore but… god, I’m so sorry, someone is following me and I didn’t know who else to call, I’m so sorry-”

“Where are you?”

You tell him where you are right now, steps carefully slow but not too slow so your stalker doesn’t know that you are aware of him.

“Stay on the phone for me, yeah?”

“Okay,” you are still whispering, gulping. “Okay. Thank you. I’m so sorry again-“

“Stop apologizing.” His voice is softer now, compared to before. “I don’t mind. Never will. I’ll be right with you in a minute, alright?”

And true to his words, he does come to you soon, throwing his arm over your shoulder and glaring right at your stalker. You can’t see his face, but you know his glare has always made him look so scary. But once the stalker is gone, and you two are left alone while he leads you home, you can’t help but break the silence.

“…you came.”

He looks at you, the glare softening immediately. So many things unsaid, so much that had gone wrong and right in your relationship…

“You called.” Is all he says in reply, still holding you right against him.

No other words are needed at this moment. Though your heart, traitorous thing it is, wonders if it’s not too late to try again. Your mind vehemently disagrees and states he likely holds no feelings for you anymore.

His arm remains wrapped around you and he even covers you in his jacket.

…perhaps it doesn’t have to end this way.

[passengerprincessblog]

“Off Track” - pt 6 Franco x Reader

Summary: As Y/N’s guilt grows heavier, her attempts to balance her feelings for both Lewis and Franco spiral out of control. A tense encounter at the Vegas circuit leaves Lewis suspicious and possessive, while Franco’s presence only fuels the fire.

It had been a few days since I last texted Franco. I’d been avoiding it on purpose, partly to manage my own guilt, partly because I knew I was slipping into dangerous territory. The guilt sat heavy in my chest, mingling with confusion and that thrill I couldn’t shake. What kind of person was I, cheating on Lewis—Lewis, of all people? He was one of the most accomplished, disciplined, and admired men on the planet, and he loved me. And yet… I couldn’t get Franco out of my mind.

He’d texted me a few times, little messages that I hadn’t replied to.

“Hey, what are you doing?”

“Are you okay?”

“Look, if I did something wrong, please tell me.”

Each time, I’d felt a pang of guilt, tempted to reply but holding back. I knew Franco hadn’t done anything wrong; it was me who was tangled in my own emotions, who couldn’t let go of this secret, forbidden connection we shared.

Now, here I was in Vegas for race week, a city that hummed with energy and excitement. It was the perfect distraction, the perfect place to bury all my complicated feelings. Lewis had us checked into an opulent hotel suite, and I’d been surprised by how affectionate he’d been, almost overwhelming me with his attention. So much sex, intimacy, so many moments where he seemed to be trying to rekindle whatever spark he felt was slipping between us. And as much as I tried to reciprocate, part of me couldn’t stop thinking about Franco.

Today was Thursday, the calm before the chaos, with only the drivers and team members milling around the circuit before the crowds arrived. I found myself in the Mercedes hospitality area, chatting with a couple of women from the media, trying to keep up with the light conversation while sipping on my cappuccino. It was nice, a little taste of normalcy amidst all the jet-setting and high-stakes events that had come to define my life.

Then, my phone buzzed.

I glanced down, trying to hide my reaction as my stomach flipped with excitement. Franco.

“Hermosa, please tell me you are here?”

A smile crept onto my face, and I felt a blush rise to my cheeks. What’s wrong with me? I scolded myself, forcing myself to stay composed with the others around. But I couldn’t resist. I quickly typed back.

“Yes, I am.”

His reply was almost instant.

“Where are you? Can we talk?”

I looked around, subtly checking my surroundings as I felt my heart beat faster. Could I really slip away? The thrill of it all bubbled up again, pushing aside the guilt. I responded without thinking.

“Yes. I can come to you. Where are you?”

“I’m in my driver’s room.”

“Okay, I’ll be there soon.” I hit send, tucking my phone away as I stood up, trying to keep my expression neutral.

“I’ll be back in a bit,” I said to the girls. They nodded, barely noticing as they continued their conversation.

I made my way out of the Mercedes area, a slight skip in my step as I imagined seeing him again. It was ridiculous, the way he could make me feel like a schoolgirl with a crush, completely giddy and oblivious to the world around me. I turned a corner, lost in thought, and nearly collided with a solid wall of muscle—Lewis.

“Oh… sorry,” I stammered, slightly taken aback.

He gave me a curious look, his gaze sweeping over me, taking in the cheerfulness I couldn’t quite hide. “It’s okay, angel,” he said, smiling, though there was something searching in his eyes. “You just can’t get enough of me, huh?”

I forced a laugh, trying to sound casual, and started to step around him, but he turned, keeping pace with me. “Where are you going?” he asked, his tone light, but with a hint of something else underneath. “I was just coming to get you, silly.”

“Oh?” I said, slowing my pace, my mind racing as I tried to come up with an excuse. How am I going to get out of this?

“Yes,” he teased, wrapping his arm around my shoulder as he started steering me in the opposite direction of Franco’s driver’s room. “I wanted some special Y/N time.”

I groaned softly. “Lewis… I wanted to go—”

“Go? Do what?” He stopped, turning to look at me with a raised eyebrow, his eyes narrowing slightly.

I felt my mind go blank. Think of something. “I was going to… like… you know… say hi to everyone.” The words came out awkwardly, and I mentally cringed. That’s what I came up with?

He tilted his head, his expression a mixture of amusement and suspicion. “Everyone? Who’s ‘everyone’?” he asked, sounding a little annoyed. “You don’t need to.”

I bit my lip, trying to think of a way to recover. “I was just going to say hi to Franco really quick.” The words slipped out before I could stop them, and I immediately regretted it.

“Franco?” he repeated, his tone tinged with confusion, as though he couldn’t fathom why I’d want to see him.

“Babe… Franco can wait,” he said firmly, tugging me gently down the hall toward his driver’s room.

“But—” I began, only to be interrupted by Toto, who approached us from the other end of the hallway.

“Y/N, keeping Lewis happy I see. Thank you,” Toto joked, giving me a friendly smile.

I laughed lightly, thankful for the distraction.

“Lewis, I need to talk to you quickly,” Toto said, nodding to him.

Lewis hesitated, glancing back at me with a look that was equal parts irritation and suspicion. “I’ll text you when I’m done, okay?” he said, his tone softening as he turned to follow Toto.

I let out a small sigh of relief as I watched them walk away. Thank you, Toto, I thought to myself, grateful for the chance to slip away unnoticed. I quickly made my way to the Williams area, feeling a giddy excitement bubbling up once again.

The moment he was out of sight, a smile crept back onto my face. I headed down the pit lane, practically floating as I made my way towards Franco’s driver’s room. When I reached his door, I paused, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. I knocked softly, my heart pounding.

A few mechanics looked in my direction, quickly averting their gaze, and a pang of paranoia shot through me. What if people start talking? What if Lewis hears about this? But before I could worry further, the door opened, and Franco stood there.

Franco’s face lit up, his hair slightly messy, his eyes sparkling with that familiar mischief. “You’re very late,” he teased, his accent making the words sound softer, more inviting.

“Sorry…” I murmured, smiling shyly as I looked at him, at the lips I’d been dying to kiss.

“Come on, hermosa,” he whispered, taking my hand and pulling me inside, gently closing the door behind us.

I sat down on the couch, trying to control the smile that was threatening to break across my face. Franco watched me, his arms crossed, a playful smirk on his lips.

“You look happy to see me,” he said, mock-scolding. “Even though you haven’t texted me back.”

“I’m sorry… I just… I didn’t…” I stammered, not wanting to mention Lewis.

“It’s okay. I understand,” he said softly, sitting beside me, his tone forgiving.

We locked eyes, the tension between us thick and undeniable. He reached up, gently brushing a strand of hair from my face, his fingers lingering a bit longer than necessary.

“Te ves muy hermosa hoy,” he murmured, his voice low and warm, his gaze holding mine.

I smiled, unable to help the blush creeping up my cheeks. “Thank you… you look beautiful too,” I teased.

He chuckled, his face warming slightly, and we fell into easy conversation, laughing and enjoying each other’s company. After a few minutes, I found myself confiding in him about my argument with Lewis, the way he’d thrown things in my face that made me feel small, undeserving.

Franco listened, his face soft with understanding, but there was a flicker of something else—something like disappointment, as if he were seeing his idol in a different light. He offered sweet, reassuring words, but I could tell that he was quietly hurt to hear about that side of Lewis.

To lighten the mood, he pulled out his laptop, showing me some silly concepts for his race helmet. We laughed together, pointing out the ridiculous designs, and for a moment, I forgot about everything else. But just as I was starting to relax, the door swung open.

It was Lewis.

He stood in the doorway, his gaze sweeping over us, taking in the sight of us laughing together on the couch. There was a tension in his posture, an edge to his expression that made my heart race with anxiety.

“Lewis, you should see this,” Franco said quickly, turning his laptop around to show him the designs. Franco’s quick thinking saved us, but I could feel Lewis’s eyes on me, studying me, suspicion lurking beneath the surface.

He forced a laugh, though it sounded hollow. “That’s… interesting, I guess. Sure, do it,” he said to Franco, his tone dismissive. But his gaze remained fixed on me, a silent accusation in the intensity of his stare.

Franco, bless him, kept his cool, despite the subtle shift in Lewis’s mood. “Thanks, Lewis. I think I will,” he said, managing a casual smile. But I could feel the discomfort radiating from him, the tension that now crackled between the three of us, like a storm waiting to break.

Finally, Lewis turned his attention back to me, and his voice softened, but it didn’t feel kind. “You hungry, sweetheart?” His words dripped with an exaggerated sweetness, an extra layer of endearment that made me feel even more anxious. It was almost patronizing.

I nodded, barely able to meet his gaze as I stood up, feeling Franco’s eyes on me, almost as if he was silently getting annoyed at Lewis.

Lewis motioned toward the door, his hand resting at the small of my back, guiding me out with a possessive grip that felt more like a statement than affection. “Then let’s get you something to eat, my love,” he said, his tone gentle but laced with something darker, as though he were challenging me to argue.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind us, his arm slipped around my waist, pulling me closer. His grip was firmer than usual, his fingers pressing into my side as we walked down the hall.

“I thought I told you to wait in my driver’s room?” he murmured, his voice low, a hint of accusation creeping into his tone.

I swallowed, my stomach twisting with anxiety. “No? You just said you’d text me when you were done…” My voice came out softer than I intended, almost hesitant.

His eyes narrowed, a flicker of irritation crossing his face. “Fine. But… what the hell was that all about?” His voice was sharp, cutting through the air between us like a knife.

“What?” I asked, forcing myself to keep my expression innocent, though my heart was pounding.

He looked at me, his gaze piercing, as though he were trying to see straight through me. “Don’t ‘what’ me, Y/N. You, sitting there laughing with Franco? Acting all… giggly?.”

I could feel my heart racing, panic clawing at my chest as I tried to think of a way to diffuse the tension. What am I supposed to say? “He just wanted to show me his helmet designs,” I stammered, shrugging as if it were nothing, forcing a casual tone that didn’t quite feel natural.

Lewis’s stare didn’t waver, his gaze intense as he tried to read every flicker of my expression. “Just don’t be in a room alone with him again,” he said, his voice firm, leaving no room for debate. It wasn’t a request; it was an order.

His arm tightened around me as we walked toward the Mercedes hospitality area, his grip almost possessive, like he was staking his claim. I could feel the tension rolling off him, the unspoken accusations simmering just beneath the surface. I could barely breathe under the weight of it, the silent message he was sending with every firm step he took.

Oh god… what am I going to do?

Next time …..

—————————————-

As always, thank you for reading and appreciating my works.

I hope my writings help you unwind and escape your life in a way that is exciting to you.

Please like and follow for more!

Xoxo

Princess

[arkieve]

1977, Christmas break. Regulus had his first kiss behind the greenhouse at their school two weeks ago. With a pocket full of coins and a stomach full of weights, he learns how to use a phone box for the first time–clutching a piece of paper with a phone number on it. All just to hear James’ voice again. One last time before the year ends. | wc: 582

It’s nerve-racking listening to the ringing, waiting for his call to be picked up. He sways back and forth, white-knuckle grip on the phone, thumb between his teeth as he waits. 

Regulus keeps an eye out on the cobblestone street, irrational fear that the passers-by will somehow know he’s doing something he shouldn’t and report back to his mother. 

A few feet over, Mr. Kreacher leans impatiently against the sleek black Rolls-Royce. When he notices that Regulus won’t be coming out anytime soon, he, too, engages in a covert activity–fishing a pack of cigarettes from his inner jacket pocket and lighting up. It almost eases Regulus’ nerves and makes him smile.

“Hello?”

Regulus jumps at the sudden voice–one he doesn’t recognise. Older, masculine–James’ dad. Shit, he hadn’t rehearsed for this.

“Hello?”

“I–Hi,” Regulus cringes. This was stupid, he feels stupid, and he can’t feel his nose; the tips of his fingers are tingling from the biting cold. “Sorry, I’m just go–”

There’s another, rather weaker voice that joins in on the other line. “Who is it?”

Oh. Regulus recognises that one, and so does his heart, apparently, from the way it threatens to leap out of his chest.

The conversation on the other end is muffled, and then there’s some shuffling before things become clearer.

“Regulus?”

His heart goes pitter-patter, pitter-patter, pitter-patter. The heat in his cheeks should be enough to defrost the windows of the phone box.

“James.”

“Shit, it really is you,” he sounds excited, breathless. More shuffling and he settles, breathing out a sigh that sends shivers down Regulus’ spine.

“So,” James’ tinny voice calls over the line. “What are you wearing?”

Regulus allows himself the blush that covers his entire face and he knocks his head against the glass window to his right. 

“Oh, you know,” he mumbles, playing James’ game to the best of his abilities, “the usual.”

“Ah,” Regulus can hear the stupid smile on his face, “my favourite.”

“Shut up, you’re just saying things.”

“I’m not! I like everything about you, so I’m not lying, not really.”

Regulus thunks his head against the glass again in response, biting his lips so hard it hurts. “Shut up,” he mutters.

“I miss you,” James says without missing a beat, and Regulus needs him to stop, or at least give him a minute so his heart can slow down. There are only so many times he can hit his head against the window before the lady walking her dog, who’s taken a special interest in his peculiar behaviour, intervenes for his sake or he, you know, drops unconscious. “I really miss you,” James repeats, as if once isn’t enough.

“I miss you too,” comes Regulus’ reply, and it doesn’t scare him how easily those words come out of him, nor how much he means it. “I really miss you too.”

“Then I should hurry back, shouldn’t I? Can’t leave you there all by your lonesome.”

“No,” Regulus pouts, and then he remembers himself enough to stop pouting, but not enough to stop himself from saying, “you can’t. So you better hurry.”

“I’m on my way, love.”

Love. Love. Love. Love. Lovelovelovelovelovelovelove—

There’s a knock against the glass door of the box. “Hey, kid! Knock it off with all the banging will ya!”

Regulus startles, struggling not to drop the phone before cradling it to his chest, frozen as he watches the man leave him to his horror and James’ awful cackling on the other end of the line.

[sicknessbysalem]

ooh I’ve been a sucker for sick before/during a performance lately and i deeply adore your fics!! so maybe any of the members of lex and soren’s band trying to make it through a performance or a recording session while feeling absolutely awful? your choice of who!

absolutely! i added that into this WIP i had of a very sick soren.

if you have any more requests, comments, concerns, etc., send them my way!

tw for emeto (lots of emeto), fevers, sick on tour.

The world outside was a blur of lights and movement, the faint hum of the city filtering through the window of their tour bus as they rolled into the next stop.

Inside, the air was thick with the scent of stale coffee and equipment, a familiar atmosphere that Lex had long since come to associate with life on the road.

But tonight, the usual energy was subdued, the dim lights casting long shadows across the cramped space, adding to the quiet heaviness that hung in the air.

Soren lay curled on the narrow bunk, his back pressed against the wall, his eyes squeezed shut, every shallow breath a careful, measured effort to keep the nausea at bay.

He’d been fighting it for hours now, a low, insistent ache that had started as a vague discomfort, a faint queasiness he’d hoped might pass with a little sleep. But as the hours dragged on, the nausea had settled in deeper, twisting in his stomach like a clenched fist, leaving him feeling weak, hollow.

Lex sat beside him, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s shoulder, his fingers tracing gentle, absent-minded circles against the fabric of his shirt.

The touch was grounding, a steady presence that kept Soren anchored, even as the sickness gnawed at him, a relentless pressure that refused to ease.

Lex’s long, dark hair fell over his shoulder in soft waves, a few loose strands brushing against Soren’s arm as he leaned in, his gaze fixed on Soren with a quiet, unspoken concern that cut through the haze of discomfort, a reminder that he wasn’t alone.

“Do you want some water?” Lex’s voice was soft, a quiet suggestion that lingered in the air, a gentle nudge that didn’t press, didn’t demand, just offered a small, fragile comfort.

Soren shook his head, the movement slow, deliberate, as though even the slightest shift might set off the nausea again. His hand drifted to his stomach, his fingers pressing lightly against the ache, a small, useless gesture that did nothing to ease the discomfort but brought him some measure of focus, a distraction from the relentless churn in his gut. He could feel the cool sweat on his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him feeling feverish, weak, a quiet, unyielding reminder of the sickness that had settled in deep, refusing to let go.

Lex’s hand drifted up to Soren’s hair, his fingers brushing through the pale strands in a soft, rhythmic motion, a small, grounding gesture that seemed to ease some of the tension, the weight pressing down on him.

Soren leaned into the touch, his breathing shallow, each inhale and exhale a careful effort as he fought to keep the sickness from overtaking him, from dragging him under.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a faint, strained apology that lingered in the air, tinged with the quiet frustration of his own body’s betrayal. He hated feeling like this—weak, dependent, a weight on Lex’s shoulders when he knew they both had enough to worry about.

Lex shook his head, his hand moving to Soren’s back, a steady, reassuring touch that eased the tightness in Soren’s chest, the quiet anxiety that had been gnawing at him since the nausea had set in. “Don’t apologize,” he replied softly, his tone warm, a quiet reminder that he was here, that he didn’t see this as a burden, that he didn’t mind the weight. “Just focus on breathing. You don’t have to push through this alone.”

Soren took a slow breath, his head dipping as he closed his eyes, willing the nausea to ease, to give him even a moment’s reprieve. But the sickness clung to him, a low, insistent ache that twisted deeper, sharper, with every passing moment.

His stomach clenched, a fresh wave of nausea rolling over him, sharp and relentless, leaving him gasping for breath, his body tensing as he tried to fight it down, to hold it back.

But the sickness refused to be ignored, clawing its way up, relentless, and he barely had time to brace himself before his body gave in, a harsh, involuntary heave that left him breathless, his hand flying to his mouth as he fought to keep the sickness from overtaking him completely.

Lex’s hand moved to his shoulder, a steady, grounding touch that kept him anchored, kept him from slipping into the discomfort entirely.

“Hey,” Lex murmured softly, his voice a quiet, steady presence that cut through the haze, grounding Soren in the warmth of his touch, the gentle reassurance that he didn’t have to carry this alone. “Just breathe—I’m right here.”

The nausea surged again, sharper this time, an insistent pressure that left him trembling, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t control. Lex’s hand moved to the back of his neck, his fingers warm, comforting. He could feel the faint, damp chill of sweat beading along his forehead, a quiet reminder of his own weakness, the vulnerability he’d never quite learned to accept.

Lex pulled him forward a bit, getting Soren to lean over the edge of the bunk, where despite Soren’s will, his lunch made an unappetizing reappearance into the plastic bin Ksenia pushed in before she took her residence in the living area of the bus. Ksenia was never one for caretaking, so she left ample space for Lex to do his thing.

When the worst of it passed, Soren slumped back, his breathing shallow, uneven as he tried to steady himself, to catch his breath. He closed his eyes, his hand pressed against his stomach as he fought to keep the nausea from rising again, the sickness a low, relentless ache that left him feeling hollow, weak.

Lex’s hand drifted to his shoulder, his fingers brushing through Soren’s hair in a small, soothing gesture, a quiet, grounding presence that kept him steady, a reminder that he didn’t have to bear this alone.

“You’re okay,” Lex murmured, his voice soft, a gentle reassurance that lingered in the air, a warmth that seemed to cut through the discomfort, to settle over Soren like a blanket, easing the tension, the weight that had been pressing down on him.

Soren managed a faint nod, though he could feel the nausea lingering, a quiet, insistent ache that refused to ease, a reminder of his own body’s betrayal. He could feel the exhaustion settling into his bones, a heaviness that left him feeling drained, hollow, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to hold it together, to keep the sickness from overtaking him completely.

“Think you can rest a little?” Lex asked, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s shoulder, a quiet question that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to push through this, that he didn’t have to hold it all alone.

Soren nodded as he let out a slow, careful breath, his hand resting on Lex’s knee, a small, grounding touch that kept him steady, kept him anchored in the warmth of Lex’s presence.

He knew, on some level that he had someone beside him, someone who saw him, who understood. But the thought of leaning on Lex, of letting himself be vulnerable, left him feeling exposed, fragile, a quiet discomfort that he couldn’t quite shake.

“I’ll be okay,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a faint, unsteady assurance that lingered in the air, a quiet hope that he could hold it together, that he could push through, if only for a little longer.

-

The hours wore on, and the low ache in Soren’s stomach refused to ease, twisting and tightening until it felt as though every breath, every small movement, was a battle against the nausea that seemed to coil deeper, sharper with each passing moment.

He lay there, curled in on himself, his forehead pressed against the cool wall of the bunk, his breaths shallow, careful, as though even the slightest shift might tip him over the edge.

Lex hadn’t moved from his side, his hand a steady, comforting presence on Soren’s back, tracing gentle circles, the rhythm grounding, familiar. He could feel Lex’s gaze on him, warm and concerned, a quiet, unspoken question that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to bear this alone, that he could lean into the comfort, the support Lex offered so freely.

“You’re really not looking great,” Lex murmured softly, his voice barely more than a whisper, a gentle observation laced with concern. “I’ve got some ginger tea I could make, or… I have something stronger if you want.”

Soren managed a faint shake of his head, the movement slow, hesitant, as though he were trying to push past the discomfort, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together.

The thought of taking anything felt distant, unreal, his focus turned inward, fixed on the relentless ache, the quiet, insistent nausea that gnawed at him, leaving him feeling hollow, weak. Soren wasn’t even sure if he could hold it down, tea or otherwise. So, why bother?

But Lex didn’t push, just shifted slightly, his hand moving to rest on the back of Soren’s neck, his fingers warm, steady, a small, grounding touch that seemed to ease some of the tension coiling in Soren’s chest, a warmth that cut through the sickness, the discomfort, if only by a fraction.

Soren leaned into the touch, letting out a slow, unsteady breath, his body slumping, the exhaustion settling over him like a weight, leaving him feeling drained, empty.

The nausea crested, sharp and insistent, a fresh wave that twisted in his stomach, leaving him breathless, his hand gripping the edge of the bunk as he fought to keep the sickness at bay, to push it down, to hold it back.

But his body betrayed him, the nausea rising with a force that left him gasping, his throat tight, his stomach clenching painfully as he felt the sickness clawing its way up, relentless, unyielding.

Lex was there in an instant, his hand moving to Soren’s shoulder, a steadying touch that kept him grounded, that kept him from slipping into the discomfort entirely.

“Okay, okay my love, I’ve got you,” Lex murmured softly, his voice a quiet, steady reassurance that cut through the haze, grounding Soren in the warmth, the familiarity of his presence. “Just breathe—it’s alright.”

But the nausea refused to let go, clawing its way up with a force that left him trembling, his body giving in to the sickness in harsh, involuntary waves. He barely had time to lean over the trash can before his body gave in completely, each heave leaving him breathless.

His throat burned, the acidic taste sharp and bitter, a reminder of his own body’s betrayal, the vulnerability he could never quite accept.

Lex’s hand moved to the back of his neck, his fingers gentle, soothing, a small, familiar touch that kept him steady.

“It’s okay,” Lex murmured, his voice a quiet, constant presence, a warmth that settled over Soren like a blanket, easing the weight, the discomfort that had been pressing down on him.

The sickness dragged on, each wave sharp, relentless, leaving Soren weak, breathless, his hand gripping the edge of the trash can as he fought to hold himself together, to keep the nausea from overtaking him completely.

He could feel the cold sweat on his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him shivering, his skin pale, drawn, a reminder of his own weakness, the quiet shame that lingered beneath the discomfort.

When the worst of it passed, he slumped back, his body sagging against the bunk, his breathing shallow, uneven, each inhale a careful, measured effort to keep the sickness from rising again. He could feel the exhaustion settling into his bones, a heaviness that left him feeling hollow, weak, and he closed his eyes, willing the nausea to ease, to give him even a moment’s reprieve.

Lex reached into his bag, pulling out a small orange bottle. Soren heard the familiar rattle of pills in plastic. It was only then he realized he probably threw up the antipsychotics and did not, in fact, want to face trying again even if he feared what might happen without them.

“Don’t worry, it’s not those meds,” Lex said, Soren wondered if Lex could read his mind, “I’ve got some anti-nausea meds. They work wonders, really. It’s what made me stop puking during our New York stops.”

Soren hesitated, even as the nausea twisted, sharper now, a relentless ache that refused to let go. But Lex’s gaze was steady, warm with an unspoken encouragement that settled over him.

And, Soren thought, Lex had been vomiting for days, unrelated to some sort of virus, during their four stops in New York. And if what Lex said was true, that he took it then, it really did work wonders.

With a slow, shaky breath, Soren gave a faint nod, his hand drifting to Lex’s, a small, reluctant acceptance of the care that Lex offered so freely.

Lex offered a faint, reassuring smile, his fingers brushing against Soren’s as he opened the bottle.

Lex handed him a pill and a small glass of water, his touch steady, gentle, a quiet reassurance that seemed to ease some of the tension coiling in Soren’s chest, a warmth that cut through the sickness, the discomfort, if only by a fraction.

“This should help,” he murmured softly, his voice a quiet, steady encouragement that kept Soren grounded, even when everything felt so miserable.

Soren took the pill, the cool water soothing against his throat, a small comfort that settled over him like a blanket, easing the sharp, relentless ache that had been gnawing at him.

And as he leaned back, he let himself breathe, let himself sink into the warmth, the comfort that Lex offered, a small, fragile acceptance that settled over him, a reminder that he didn’t have to bear this alone.

Lex stayed beside him, his hand resting on Soren’s shoulder, Soren let himself lean into the comfort.

The nausea lingered, a low, insistent ache that refused to ease entirely, but with Lex beside him, with the gentle, constant touch of his hand, Soren felt a small, precious peace, a comfort that cut through the discomfort, that reminded him he wasn’t alone.

And as he closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the warmth, the familiarity of their connection, he felt the quiet, grounding reassurance that he didn’t have to carry this alone, that he didn’t have to face it all on his own.

-

Morning brought a tentative hope that the worst of the sickness had passed. Soren lay on the narrow bunk, his eyes half-closed as he took careful breaths, feeling the familiar ache in his stomach but noticing, with some relief, that it was duller than the night before.

The nausea lingered, a quiet, uncomfortable reminder of his body’s rebellion, but it was manageable, a low, insistent ache that didn’t overwhelm him, that allowed him a small, cautious optimism for the day ahead.

Lex sat beside him, a steaming cup of herbal tea cradled in his hands, the scent of ginger and chamomile filling the air, soothing in a way that seemed to settle Soren’s nerves, to ease some of the residual discomfort.

Lex’s gaze was warm, soft, a quiet, unspoken concern lingering in his eyes, but he offered a faint, reassuring smile as he handed the cup to Soren, his hand lingering on Soren’s shoulder, a gentle, grounding touch that settled over him like a blanket.

“Think you’re up for the interview?” Lex asked, his voice soft, careful, a quiet question that didn’t press, that allowed Soren the space to answer honestly.

Soren took a slow sip of the tea, feeling the warmth spread through him, a small comfort that eased the tension coiling in his chest.

“I think so,” he replied, his voice steady, though he could feel the faint edge of uncertainty lingering beneath the words. “I’m… better than last night, at least,” he added.

Lex nodded, his hand moving to rest on Soren’s back, a gentle, reassuring presence that kept him grounded, that reminded him he didn’t have to carry this alone.

“If you’re feeling up to it, we’ll take it slow,” he murmured, his voice warm, a quiet, unspoken encouragement that settled over Soren like a blanket.

With Lex’s support, Soren found the strength to get ready, moving through the familiar motions of his morning routine, each step careful, measured, as though he were testing the limits of his own endurance.

The nausea lingered, a faint, uncomfortable ache that settled low in his stomach, but he pushed it down, held onto the hope that he could manage, that he could push through the day without letting it affect their plans.

By the time they reached the interview venue, the ache in his stomach had dulled further, a faint, manageable discomfort that left him feeling cautiously optimistic. He took a slow breath as they entered the studio, the familiar hum of pre-interview preparations settling over him, grounding him in the routines he knew so well.

Lex stayed close, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s arm, a quiet, steady presence that kept him anchored, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, even as the faint edge of discomfort lingered, a quiet, insistent ache that refused to let go entirely.

The interviewer greeted them with a warm smile, her energy bright and welcoming as she introduced herself, diving into the questions with an ease that put Soren at ease, that allowed him to settle into the familiar rhythm of answering, responding, moving through the motions with a practiced calm.

He could feel the discomfort lurking beneath the surface, a faint, nagging reminder of the night before, but he managed to push it down, to keep his focus on the conversation, on the quiet, grounding presence of Lex beside him.

As the interview wrapped up, Lex’s hand moved to Soren’s back, a gentle, comforting touch that settled over him like a blanket, a small, unspoken reassurance that he’d made it through, that he’d managed to hold it together, if only for a little while.

Soren let out a slow, careful breath, feeling a faint, tentative relief settle over him, a quiet hope that he could get through the rest of the day, that he could push through the lingering discomfort, the quiet, insistent ache that had been gnawing at him.

But as the day wore on, the nausea began to creep back, a low, relentless ache that settled in his stomach, twisting with each step, each small movement.

By the time they reached the venue for the night’s show, Soren could feel the discomfort intensifying, a sharp, insistent pressure that pressed against his ribs, his chest, leaving him feeling weak, unsteady.

He took careful, shallow breaths, each inhale a measured effort to keep the sickness at bay, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together.

Lex noticed almost immediately, his gaze softening as he took in the tension in Soren’s posture, the way he was gripping his stomach, his jaw clenched against the discomfort.

Without a word, Lex moved closer, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s back, his fingers tracing gentle, soothing circles, a quiet, grounding presence that seemed to ease some of the tension, the weight pressing down on him.

“Hey,” Lex murmured softly, his voice a gentle, steady reassurance that cut through the haze, grounding Soren in the warmth, the familiarity of his presence. “You sure you’re okay for this?”

Soren managed a faint nod, though he could feel the nausea building, sharper now, a quiet, insistent ache that settled low in his stomach, twisting with each breath, each careful movement.

“Yeah… just… need a minute,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a faint, unsteady assurance that lingered in the air, a quiet hope that he could push through, that he could hold it together, if only for a little while longer.

But even as he spoke, he could feel his control slipping, the nausea rising with a force that left him breathless, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t ignore.

He pressed his hand tightly against his stomach, his fingers digging into his side as he fought to keep the sickness from overtaking him, to hold it back, but the ache only grew sharper, more insistent, a weight that settled heavily, unyielding.

Lex’s hand drifted to Soren’s shoulder, a small, grounding touch that kept him anchored, that kept him from slipping into the discomfort entirely.

“If you need to sit this one out…” Lex’s voice was soft, careful, a gentle suggestion that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to push through this, that he didn’t have to hold it all alone.

Soren managed a faint, weak smile, though he could feel the nausea clawing its way up, sharper now, a quiet, relentless pressure that left him trembling, his hand gripping the edge of the nearby chair as he fought to steady himself, to keep the sickness from dragging him under.

“I can handle it,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, a faint, desperate assurance that lingered in the air, a quiet hope that he could hold it together, that he could push through the discomfort.

But the nausea surged again, sharper this time, a relentless ache that left him gasping, his body giving in to the sickness with a force that left him breathless, weak.

He barely had time to lean over the trash can Lex had set beside him before his body gave in, a harsh, involuntary heave that left him shaking, his hand gripping the edge of the can as he fought to hold himself together, to keep the sickness from overtaking him completely.

Lex was beside him in an instant, his hand moving to the back of Soren’s neck, his fingers warm, comforting, a small, familiar presence that kept him steady, that kept him from slipping into the discomfort entirely.

“I’ve got you,” Lex murmured softly, his voice a quiet, steady reassurance that settled over Soren like a blanket, a reminder that he wasn’t alone, that he didn’t have to carry this on his own.

The sickness dragged on, each wave sharp, unrelenting, leaving Soren weak, breathless, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t control. He could feel the cold sweat on his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him shivering, his skin pale, a reminder of his own vulnerability, the quiet shame that lingered beneath the discomfort.

When the worst of it passed, he slumped back, his head hanging, his hand still pressed to his stomach as he fought to catch his breath, the nausea lingering like a dull ache, a reminder of his own body’s rebellion. He felt weak, hollow, each breath a careful, measured effort, and he closed his eyes, willing himself to hold it together, to keep the sickness from overtaking him completely.

Lex’s hand drifted to his shoulder, his fingers gentle, soothing, a quiet, steadying presence that kept Soren grounded, that reminded him he wasn’t alone.

“Oh, babe, you don’t look good at all,” Lex said softly.

“I don’t feel good, at all,” Soren said, sighing softly, “But I’ll… I’ll be alright.”

“Yeah, because the reamins everything you’ve eaten in the past three days looking like some fucked up recipe for disastwr in the trash is a very clear indication you’re totally fine.” Lex said sarcastically, chuckling softly.

“If you ever describe it that way again, next round goes on you,” Soren mumbled, leaning forward to rest his head on the dressing room vanity.

Lex stayed beside him, his hand resting on Soren’s back, a quiet, grounding presence that kept him steady.

And in that small, quiet space, Soren let himself lean into the comfort, the warmth, a fragile, tentative acceptance that he didn’t have to face this alone.

As showtime drew near, Soren could feel the discomfort creeping back, sharper and more insistent with each passing moment. The cautious optimism he’d felt that morning, the faint hope that maybe he was on the mend, had faded, replaced by a familiar ache that settled low in his stomach, a relentless, twisting nausea that left him feeling hollow, unsteady.

He took careful breaths, willing the sickness to ease, to give him enough strength to get through the night, but the nausea only grew, sharper now, a quiet, insistent reminder that his body was protesting in ways he couldn’t ignore.

Lex stood beside him, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s shoulder, his fingers tracing small, soothing circles against the fabric of his shirt. It was a quiet, grounding gesture, a familiar warmth that cut through the haze of discomfort, if only by a fraction.

Lex’s gaze lingered on him, soft, concerned, a quiet, unspoken question lingering in his eyes, but he didn’t press, didn’t demand an answer, just stayed close, his presence a steadying comfort that kept Soren grounded.

“You sure you’re up for this?” Lex asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, a gentle question that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to push through this alone, that he didn’t have to carry the weight on his own.

Soren managed a faint, strained smile, his head dipping slightly as he nodded, his voice steady, though he could feel the tremor lingering beneath the words. “I’ve got this,” he replied, his tone firm, a quiet determination that belied the nausea twisting in his stomach, the sickness that clung to him, sharp and unyielding. He’d pushed through before—long nights, rougher shows, moments when he’d felt weaker, sicker than this. He could manage, he had to.

As the band took their places on stage, the roar of the crowd washed over him, a deafening wave that usually settled his nerves, that reminded him of the rhythm they’d built, the routines that held them steady. But tonight, every sound, every bright flash of the lights felt like an assault, each sensation amplified by the discomfort gnawing at him, leaving him feeling off-kilter, exposed.

Lex stayed close, his gaze flicking to Soren every now and then, a quiet, subtle check-in that kept him grounded, that reminded him he wasn’t alone. Soren’s hand drifted to his stomach, pressing lightly against the ache, a small, futile gesture that did nothing to ease the nausea but brought him some measure of focus, a distraction from the relentless churning in his gut.

He could feel the sweat breaking out along his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him shivering, his skin pale, a reminder of his own body’s rebellion, the weakness he could never quite accept.

The first song began, the familiar chords reverberating through the stage, grounding him in the routine, the rhythm he knew so well. He focused on his guitar, each note a small, careful movement that kept his mind occupied, that allowed him to push the sickness down, to hold it at bay, if only for a little while.

Lex’s voice rose over the crowd, steady, powerful, a sound that seemed to cut through the haze, grounding Soren in the present, in the familiar warmth of their connection.

But as the minutes ticked by, the nausea grew sharper, more insistent, a low, relentless ache that twisted in his stomach, leaving him breathless, weak.

He took careful breaths, each inhale a measured effort to keep the sickness from overtaking him, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together. But the sickness refused to be ignored, clawing its way up with a force that left him gasping, his body betraying him in ways he couldn’t fight.

Soren took advantage of a small instrumental break, slipping to the side of the stage, his movements careful, deliberate, as he braced himself against the wall, his hand pressed tightly to his stomach as he fought to keep the sickness at bay.

He barely made it to a small trash can set discreetly offstage before his body gave in, each heave dragging him under, leaving him breathless, weak, his throat raw from the acid, the strain.

The sickness was relentless, each wave sharp, unyielding, leaving him trembling, his hand gripping the edge of the trash can as he fought to steady himself, to keep the nausea from overtaking him completely.

He could feel the cool sweat on his forehead, a faint, clammy dampness that left him shivering, his skin pale, a reminder of his own vulnerability, the quiet shame that lingered beneath the discomfort.

He barely had a moment to catch his breath before the next song began, the familiar chords pulling him back, forcing him to push the sickness down, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together.

He wiped his mouth, his hand shaking slightly as he steadied himself, forcing himself back onstage, back into the rhythm, the routine that kept him grounded, that allowed him to push through the discomfort, if only for a little while.

Lex’s gaze met his as he stepped back into place, a quiet, unspoken concern lingering in his eyes, but Soren managed a faint, reassuring smile, a quiet assurance that he could handle it, that he could push through.

He could see the worry in Lex’s expression, the way his gaze lingered on Soren, a silent question, but he didn’t press, didn’t demand an answer, just continued, his voice steady, powerful, a grounding presence that kept Soren anchored.

But as the night wore on, the nausea grew worse, sharper, a low, relentless ache that refused to let go, that twisted in his stomach with each song, each note. He could feel the exhaustion settling into his bones, a heaviness that left him feeling hollow, weak, and he took careful, shallow breaths, each inhale a measured effort to keep the sickness from overtaking him, to hold onto the fragile control he’d managed to scrape together.

Another instrumental break offered a brief respite, a small window for him to slip offstage again, to find a quiet corner where he could brace himself, his hand pressed to his stomach as he fought to keep the sickness down, to hold it back.

But his body gave in, each heave dragging him under, leaving him breathless, weak, the taste of acid sharp and bitter on his tongue, a reminder of his own body’s betrayal, the vulnerability he could never quite accept.

He leaned heavily against the wall, his breathing shallow, uneven, each inhale a careful, measured effort as he fought to keep the nausea from rising again, the sickness a low, relentless ache that left him feeling hollow, weak.

He knew he couldn’t keep this up, couldn’t push through the night without consequence, but the thought of stepping down, of leaving Lex to handle it alone, left him feeling exposed, vulnerable, a quiet discomfort he couldn’t quite shake.

As he made his way back onstage, he could feel Lex’s gaze on him, a quiet, gentle concern lingering in his eyes, but Soren forced a faint, reassuring smile, a small, fragile assurance that he could handle it, that he could push through.

Lex’s hand brushed against his arm, a small, grounding touch that kept him steady, a reminder that he didn’t have to carry the weight alone, that he didn’t have to hold it all on his own.

But as the night drew to a close, the sickness refused to ease, each wave sharper, more insistent, a reminder that his body was reaching its limit, that he couldn’t push through without consequence.

By the final song, Soren could barely hold it together, his body trembling, weak, the nausea a relentless ache that left him feeling hollow, breathless, each breath a careful, measured effort.

Lex glanced over, his gaze soft, a quiet, unspoken concern lingering in his eyes, but Soren managed a faint nod, a small, fragile assurance that he could handle it, that he could push through, if only for a little longer.

And as the last notes faded, as the lights dimmed, he felt a small, tentative relief settle over him, in the form of Lex’s arms wrapped around him.

-

The afternoon sun poured through the bus windows, casting a warm, gentle light over everything, a contrast to the relentless exhaustion that had plagued Soren over the past day.

He sat at the small table, a steaming cup of tea cradled in his hands, the faint scent of peppermint and ginger filling the air, soothing in a way that reminded him of Lex’s own quiet attentiveness, the careful way Lex had stayed beside him through the worst of it, grounding him, comforting him.

The sickness had lingered through the early morning, each hour a quiet battle against his own body, but by now, the nausea had faded to a dull, manageable ache, a faint discomfort that was nothing compared to the sharp, relentless sickness that had gripped him the day before.

He took a slow sip of the tea, the warmth spreading through him, easing the last remnants of tension that clung to his body, a reminder of the vulnerability he could never quite shake.

Lex sat across from him, his long, dark hair falling in loose waves over his shoulders, his gaze soft, warm, a quiet, unspoken concern lingering in his expression.

He’d been watching Soren with a gentle, attentive gaze, his gaze lifting every so often from his phone or his notebook.

“Feeling better?” Lex asked softly, his voice barely above a whisper, a gentle question that lingered in the air, a reminder that he didn’t have to push himself, that he could take things slow, that he could let himself recover at his own pace.

Soren nodded, managing a faint, reassuring smile as he set the tea down, his hands resting on the table as he leaned back, letting out a slow, careful breath.

“Yeah,” he replied, his voice steady, though there was a faint edge of exhaustion lingering in his tone. “Finally feels like it’s passed… thanks to you,” he added, a small, grateful smile flickering at the corners of his mouth, a quiet acknowledgment of the care Lex had offered so freely, so gently.

Lex waved off the thanks with a soft smile, but his gaze lingered, a subtle warmth in his eyes that conveyed more than words ever could—a quiet understanding, a comfort that had always been there between them, a connection that needed no explanation.

He leaned forward, his hand reaching across the table to rest lightly on Soren’s, a small, grounding touch that kept them both anchored, a reminder that they didn’t have to face anything alone, that they had each other, even in the quiet, vulnerable moments.

As they sat there, the silence stretching between them, Soren’s gaze drifted to Lex’s face, noticing the faint shadows under his eyes, the slight tension in his expression, a subtle discomfort that hadn’t been there before.

It was small, barely noticeable, but Soren had known Lex long enough to recognize the subtle shifts, the quiet signs that hinted at something deeper, something Lex wasn’t ready to acknowledge.

Lex cleared his throat softly, a faint, almost absent-minded sound that Soren had come to associate with Lex’s own discomfort, a small, unconscious habit that often preceded the early signs of sickness. It was subtle, a quiet tic that most people wouldn’t notice, but to Soren, it was a small, telling detail, a hint that Lex might be feeling the first stirrings of whatever illness had overtaken Soren. Lex only ever cleared his throat this much when he was feeling like he was about to vomit, as if doing so would dislodge the sickness from his throat and go back down, a habit picked up to avoid throwing up, Lex always hated getting sick like that.

“You alright?” Soren asked, his tone light, casual, though there was a faint, gentle concern lingering beneath the question, a quiet, unspoken hope that Lex might be willing to acknowledge the discomfort, to let himself lean into the support that Soren was ready to offer.

Lex glanced up, his gaze meeting Soren’s, and for a moment, there was a flicker of something unspoken in his expression, a small, vulnerable look that settled over him, before he brushed it off with a faint smile, a small, self-assured nod. “Yeah… just tired,” he replied, his tone calm, steady, though there was a faint edge of something else lingering beneath the words, a quiet discomfort that hadn’t quite settled.

He cleared his throat again, a small, almost reflexive gesture, his gaze dropping to the tea in his hands as he took a slow sip, his movements careful, deliberate, as though he were testing the limits of his own endurance. Soren’s gaze lingered, a quiet, gentle concern settling over him as he watched Lex, taking in the small, subtle shifts in his posture, the faint way his hand trembled as he set the cup down, the way his gaze seemed to drift, unfocused, a quiet discomfort lingering in the background.

“You’re sure?” Soren pressed, his voice soft, a gentle, unspoken question lingering in the air, a quiet hope that Lex might let himself lean into the comfort, the support that Soren was ready to offer, a small, tentative invitation to share the weight, to let Soren take care of him for once.

Lex’s smile was faint, a small, grateful expression that flickered at the corners of his mouth, a quiet acknowledgment of Soren’s concern, though he didn’t answer, didn’t give any indication of the discomfort that lingered beneath the surface. Instead, he reached across the table, his hand resting lightly on Soren’s, a small, grounding touch that kept them both anchored, a reminder that they didn’t have to face anything alone, that they had each other, even in the quiet, vulnerable moments.

As they sat there, the quiet stretching between them, Soren could feel the faint, subtle tension in Lex’s touch, the quiet discomfort that lingered in the background, a small, unspoken reminder that there was something more beneath the surface, a hint of vulnerability that Lex wasn’t ready to acknowledge. But Soren didn’t press, didn’t demand an answer, just held Lex’s hand, a quiet, grounding presence that kept them both steady, a reminder that they didn’t have to face anything alone.

And as the afternoon sunlight filled the space, casting a warm, gentle glow over them, Soren felt a small, quiet understanding settle over him, a reminder of the quiet strength, the connection they shared, a bond that needed no words, no grand gestures, just a hand on a shoulder, a quiet, steady comfort that held them both, even in the vulnerable moments, even in the quiet, unspoken understanding that lingered between them.

As the silence stretched on, Soren couldn’t shake the faint, lingering feeling that hinted at the possibility of Lex coming down with the very same illness he’d struggled through.

It was subtle, a small, almost imperceptible shift in the air, a quiet tension that lingered in the background, but Soren knew, in that small, fragile moment, that he would be there, that he would offer the same care, the same quiet support that Lex had given him.

Soren didn’t miss the way Lex set down his mug of tea like it had personally wronged him, or that the mere thought of drinking more would make his body stage an all out rejection. But, he didn’t say anything about it, Soren didn’t ask.

Soren moved to sit next to Lex, closing the space between them, wrapping an arm around Lex’s shoulders as if that would protect Lex from whatever knocked Soren so badly.

“Come here,” Soren said, rubbing Lex’s shoulder, “I’ve got you.”

[zakuramochi]

there was an april fools strip with prince england and maid japan?! and what's the april-halloween au? btw your art is just sublime!!

(Very sorry for the late reply anon…! I was busy then got sick immediately after 😭)

Thank you so much! You’re too kind;;

And yes, there is one! It’s from Himaruya’s old キタユメ。webblog, and a lot of Asakiku fans continue to reference this strip to this day 🤣 ww

Here’s a tidbit from it:

(That’s not a joke, that’s really what it says— although that entire conversation happens in Arthur’s imagination. LOL)

Kiku ends up putting it on after all, by the way:

Lastly, April-Halloween AU is based on Himaruya’s joke tweet where he drew spooky designs for April Fools and greeted everyone Happy Halloween even though it was clearly April 1st. 🤣 You can see the tweet here!

AsaKiku fans (especially the JP ones) honed in on the bit that Arthur and Kiku were both ghosts/spirits that had mysterious letter-writing items with their sprite and it’s a known fact that a lot of their canon relationship during the alliance period revolved around exchanging letters… fans pretty much used this as a starting point and formed lore around it!

One I really enjoyed was a setting where Arthur is a ghost that collects lost letters from around the world and gives them to Kiku, a spirit who can ‘consume(?)’ the memories/emotions engraved into the letters and transcribes them into scrolls. They don’t have any memories from before they died but little by little they find traces of their old lives— This AU has a flavor of bittersweetness that I particularly like. 🥲💕

[theundeadgospel]

so uh

I’m running another high fever, definitely struggling to breathe, and I barely have a voice anymore

If I have to go back to urgent care I’m going to fight the gods myself

[vaporvipermedia]

I’m just in a silly goofy mood (getting easily distracted from responsibilities because my mind keeps thinking about 5+ personal projects a day)

[riwooga]

Hi!! Sorry for disappearing on everyone

I really appreciate all the people who've stayed interactive and also the people who've sent me asks and messages to check upon me!! That was seriously so unexpected thank you 🥺

But I figured making a quick general post was probably a good idea to clear stuff up

So long story short... I am not dead, I am okay, and no I haven't abandoned DOL as an interest nor decided to never draw it again! I promise! I'll try to return eventually just some health issues!

And under the cut I'll go further into details about my health, so if you don't wanna hear about that, that's totally fair! <333

Be rest assured I’m okay! 💕

But.. For the ones who are curious.

I have in general been on sick-leave with stress for 2 years, mostly dealing with mental health struggles, and mild physical symptoms.

However, my physical symptoms in particular worsened slowly due to a lot of stuff that's just too complicated to get into lol,,,, but it basically all culminated here in February where my physical symptoms have stayed bad™ since, and kinda just… keep getting worse because of my own stubbornness.

Much to my own dismay, I ended up having to actually go to the doctor, which I've put off for a long time,,,, I've already been there numerous times and am also waiting on being sent to 4 different special-clinics that can hopefully also help figure it out, on top of waiting to get into therapy again

But yeah uh there's been a lot of testing, with little results.. For now we're looking at it being most likely that I'm some sort of chronically ill. Right now the suspected ones are POTS and ME/CFS.. Maybe fibromyalgia but I don't personally see the connection on that one-- but we don't know yet. (And it'll likely take a good while to figure out sadly)

My symptoms have, as I said, stayed pretty bad, and in turn my energy is hard to put onto drawing as a priority, when even just as much as standing up takes energy.

But I do still really wanna draw and I do intend to come back to it once I hopefully get a bit more stable again!

So I just wanna say please don't worry about me, it's definitely far from deadly, it's just,,, a major inconvenience and it's been a lot of strain on my mental health in turn. While I am still desperately hoping for a cure or a fix... My doctor said quite firmly not to expect either-- but that there's small chances of eventually lessening the symptoms. So that's what we're hoping! 🥲

Once again thank you to the people who’ve been checking up on me, I really do appreciate that so much 🤧💕💕💕💕

[chosok-amo]

GOOD GIRL GO TO HEAVEN

GOJO SATORU, GETO SUGURU . . . after a long day of assembling a lot of furniture and decorating your new house, they decided they want to test drive the new bed with you.

warning : painfully slow, threesome! satosugu, raw/unprotected sex, humping, daddy kink (just a little bit), praise kink.

w/c : 8k

you and your boyfriends, gojo satoru and geto suguru, wrapped up the furniture assembly just an hour ago. now, they’re lounging comfortably on the new bed, looking relaxed and content. after finishing your shower, you step out wrapped only in a towel, the warm steam still clinging to your skin. you walk over to your wardrobe, glancing over at them with a playful smile.

“so, how’s the bed, honey?” you ask with genuine curiosity. your voice is soft, dripping with tenderness.

“it’s great and so spacious, baby,” gojo answers. he sits up on the bed, his white shirt hugging his toned chest, and watches you approach the wardrobe. beside him, geto moves, spreading his legs languidly as he leans back against the headboard. the sheets fall around his hips, barely covering his lower half. he gives you a lazy smile. “the bed’s not the only thing that spacious here, right, sweetheart?”

“yeah?” you turn around to look at them before pulling out a black oversized t-shirt that belongs to geto from the wardrobe. they stare at you for a moment before gojo opens his mouth. “come here.” gojo says, patting his lap. you look at him and see the mischievous look in his eyes, “i need to… see something.” geto chuckles, knowing full well what gojo plans to do. “you heard him, baby,” he added.

“what?” you ask him, smiling as you refuse to walk over to him and stand in your place.

“i said come here,” he says again, a demanding undertone in his voice now. gojo stares at you pointedly while geto watches with a smirk on his face, his eyes roaming unabashedly over your half-naked body.

“i’m not going anywhere until you tell me what you’re planning to do,” you respond, cocking an eyebrow. gojo’s hand pats his lap again impatiently. “i’ll show you when you come here.” geto rolls his eyes with a smile on his face, “just come here, baby girl. be good for us and i promise we’ll make you feel good too.”

“should i?” you playfully ask and close your wardrobe door. “you should, if you know what’s good for you,” gojo demand, a small smirk stretches across gojo’s face. by now he’s growing a little impatient. gojo is not a man who particularly likes to repeat himself.

“unless you want me to come get you myself?” he raises an eyebrow in challenge. behind him, geto chuckles to himself, clearly enjoying this interaction between you two.

“oh, i'm scared,” you sarcastically replied but made your way towards them, crawling from the feet of the bed before settling on gojo's lap. as you crawl over, his arms wrap around your waist, pulling you in until you’re sitting on his lap, the towel around your body riding up. gojo’s hands start to wander, lightly caressing your bare thighs. you can feel the heat of his body through the thin fabric of his shirt.

“are you gonna behave now, baby?” he asks, his voice low and sultry, “or are you still gonna sass me?” his blue eyes piercing through yours, making all the playfulness on you start to disappear, “sorry..” you mumble.

“you’ll have to do better than that,” he murmurs. gojo’s hands slide up your thighs, past the towel, as he leans in until his mouth is right next to your ear. “say you’re sorry again, sweetheart.”

“sorry, daddy..”

gojo lets out a soft grunt when you call him that, his mouth is still close to your ear. his breath is warm on your neck, “much better, baby.” he moves his mouth down until he’s nuzzling your throat instead. “there you go, being good for me, sweetheart.”

geto has been watching quietly until now, his eyes trained on the two of you as you sit on gojo’s lap. when you say ‘daddy’ his eyes darken a little more, watching intently as gojo turns his attention to your bare shoulders. “you look so good on his lap, don’t you sweetheart?” geto suddenly speaks up, his voice a little husky. “all bare and pretty just for us.”

the room feels warmer now like the heat is starting to build up around the three of you. gojo’s mouth brushes over your shoulder, his lips leaving a trail of kisses on your skin. “look at you, all nice and obedient,” he murmurs against your skin. “do you know what good girls get when they're being good?”

you close your eyes as you feel his lips on your skin— suddenly feeling all cold and chilling just from his touch, barely. “what is it?” you mumble a question.

“rewards.”

gojo’s arms tighten around you, pulling you closer to him. his mouth drifts towards your neck. “if you keep being good, we’ll reward you properly, sweetheart. would you like that?” he pulled himself away from you to look you in the eye as you opened your eyes. your warm breath gently glazed gojo's pale skin, bringing a crushed cherry tint to his cheeks. “yes, please..” your voice soft.

gojo smiles, running his finger along your spine, making you shiver, and a soft moan leaves your lips. “see, that’s what i like to hear. you sound so much sweeter when you’re being a good girl.” gojo’s voice is low, and he’s speaking close to your ear again. he moves a hand up, tilting your head till he can look you in the face. his smile is a little smug as he looks down at you. “how about we get rid of this towel?” you nodded when you looked at him, eyes hooded.

“good girl.”

gojo reaches behind you, finding the edge of the towel around your body. he slowly starts to pull it away, his eyes never leaving your face. the towel falls, the fabric pooling around your waist as your chest and abdomen are left bare. gojo hums in approval, his eyes roaming over your body. “there that’s much better.”

“look at you,” he murmurs. his hands on your thighs start to slowly move further up your body, roaming up your hips and over your ribcage, almost as if he's trying to memorize every part of you with just his hands. “you look so pretty, sweetheart. you're being so good for us. so pretty and obedient.”

“oh, you are so pretty,” geto adds, his voice soft as he looks at you sitting half-naked on gojo’s lap. he’s lounging against the headboard now, legs slightly spread. the sheets over his lap are beginning to tent.

gojo chuckles as he notices geto’s current state. “see what you do to him, sweetheart?” gojo’s own hands are still roaming over your body, caressing your soft skin. his hands brush just below your chest, his touch gentle and almost reverential as he looks at you.

gojo’s mouth moves over your skin, his lips tracing up and down the line of your throat until he reaches your ear again. “look at him,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. he’s looking over at geto right now, who’s watching the two of you intently, his eyes on your body. “he’s enjoying himself, sweetheart. he’s enjoying seeing you in my lap, like the good girl you are.”

geto looks you over with unabashed interest, his gaze roaming over your body. “you’re such a sight to see all spread out like that,” he murmurs. the sheets over his lap are tented, more noticeably now. gojo nips at your earlobe, his hands cupping your ribs as he pulls you closer against him. “look how much he wants you, baby.”

gojo laughs faintly when you let out a moan, like he finds it endearing. “you like that, sweetheart?” he asks, his mouth still against your skin. “you like it when i bite you?"

he continues doing it, his mouth trailing down the side of your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin and leaving small marks. you answer him by letting out another soft moan.

“you’re so soft,” he murmurs, his voice muffled by your skin. “so easy to mark. i want to see how much of you i can mark up, doll.”

geto shifts a little on the bed, his hands gripping his thighs through the sheets. the tent in his pants is more obvious now, and he’s watching you both intently. “she’s going to be covered in marks at this rate,” he grumbles.

“i’m not hearing any objections,” gojo responds, his hands caressing your sides. he lifts his head from your neck and looks at you.

gojo’s eyes darken as he looks you over, his hands continuing to caress your sides. he’s clearly enjoying seeing you in this state, all bare and on his lap, with geto watching you intently from the bed.

“you look so pretty like this, sweetheart. all bare and marked up on my lap” he murmurs, his gaze roaming over the various marks he’s left on your neck. “and so obedient,” he added.

“i am?” you whispering, voice cover with hope.

at your words, gojo smiles against your skin. they exchange knowing looks before gojo answers you. “yes, you are, baby.” he continues his assault on your neck, his kisses slowly turning into nibbles and sucking motions, marking you with his mouth.

geto watches hungrily as gojo lays claim to you, his hand still tracing lazy patterns on your thigh from where he sits. “so sweet, so perfect for us,” he compliments, his voice low and rough with desire.

“you’re so responsive too, aren’t you?” gojo’s hands wander down to your bare thighs. he squeezes them gently as if testing your reaction. “responding so well to my touch. so eager to please,” he moaned.

geto lets out a small sigh from the bed, his hands now clenching the sheets around his lap tightly. your thigh slightly twitches from gojo's touch as if to show him the truth of his words. “see how you respond so easily to my hands?” gojo continues, his palms continuing to caress your thighs. he’s watching your reactions intently. “that’s good, sweetheart. it’s so fun to see how easily you respond.”

“it’s getting hard to watch,” geto suddenly mutters from the bed, his voice strained. gojo laughs faintly at geto’s comment. “then stop watching if it’s so easy,” he replies, his hands continuing their gentle caresses.

he pulls you a little closer to him, so you’re pressed even more against his chest. “why are you getting so worked up anyway? you’re acting like you’re not going to get your turn.” gojo looks over at geto and smirks again, clearly enjoying his struggle.

“don’t worry,” he calls out. “you’ll get a turn soon too.” he turns his attention back to you, his hands still wandering over your thighs. “right now i want to see how far i can get you with just my hands, okay?” his blue eyes back to you, gently as he drinks on the sight of your pretty face. geto grumbles a little in response, clearly not enjoying his current state all that much.

gojo’s hands continue to explore your thighs, his touch gentle and almost teasing as his thumbs graze over sensitive skin. “do you think you can handle that, baby?” gojo asks, looking you in the face. “just my hands on your skin?”

you hesitate, wanting to feel his lips on your skin again, but you're too shy to ask, and gojo can clearly see that. gojo smirks at your expression and the way you fidget. “what’s wrong?” he asks teasingly, his hands skimming across your thighs. “can’t seem to find your words? what is it, sweetheart?” his hands continue their slow exploration of your thighs. “you want something?”

when you do not say anything he leans over, lips almost touching you as he speaks, “do you want my lips on your skin again?” he asks, his voice low and sultry. “do you want me to kiss you again, baby?” you nodded as his hands moving up to your hips now. he starts to guide your movements on his lap slightly, just little rocks of your hips.

“use your words, sweetheart. you know i want to hear you say it.” gojo starts to guide your hips, rocking them gently against his lap. his hands on your hips are firm but gentle, as he guides your movements with ease, his body pressed tightly against you.

“i-i want your lips on my skin again..” you murmur, your lips slightly apart. gojo looks at you with his eyebrows arise, as if asking you if you're forgetting something. “please, daddy. . . ” you add.

gojo’s expression softens at the sound of you calling him daddy again. he gives you a small nod as if approving before he speaks. “there you go. that wasn’t so hard, was it?” his hands on your hips continue to guide your movements on his lap. “just good manners, sweetheart. being a good girl for me.”

he leans down, his mouth coming close to your ear again. “since you asked so nicely, i’ll give you what you want, baby.”

instantly, a big smile makes its way to your lips, “thank you, daddy. . .” your hand flaying for a second before it lends on gojo's shoulder, holding him for support. gojo chuckles faintly at the large smile on your face, knowing how much fun you have playing with his kink. “such a good girl,” he murmurs into your ear, his hands continuing to guide your hips and rock against his lap.

“i’m going to give you what you want, so just relax, okay?” gojo’s voice is low and soft in your ear. “just sit there and be a good girl… you can do that, can’t you?” you nodded as you gripped tightly around his white shirt.

“good girl.”

gojo’s mouth moves towards your neck, his teeth and mouth on your skin again. he sucks on your skin gently, his tongue laving over the small mark he’s just made. “you taste so good, sweetheart,” he mutters against your skin. “i don’t want to stop marking you up.”

you moan softly, slightly throwing your head back, “please, don't.” gojo nips and sucks on your neck again, harder this time, his hands on your hips coaxing your movements against his lap.

“keep moaning like that, and i don’t think i’ll be able to stop,” he murmurs, his mouth against your skin. he continues to mark up your skin, his mouth moving up and down the side of your neck, his mouth sucking and biting gently as his tongue laves over the reddened spots. by now your neck is covered in his marks, each one adding up like a trail on your skin.

“oh, god,” you moan from the pleasure of his lips on your skin and from grinding on him. gojo lets out a soft chuckle when you moan against his ear. “already getting worked up just from this, hmm? you’re so sensitive, baby.” he continues sucking on your skin, his hands guiding your hips as you grind on his lap. his mouth moves over your sensitive spots, leaving a trail of marks from your jaw to the base of your collarbone.

geto groans in annoyance as he takes another glare at you and gojo. even in his annoyance, he can't stop looking at the two of you and not feeling jealous. gojo glances over at geto, taking in his expression. “getting impatient?” he asks, his mouth still on your skin. “you look like you’re having a hard time just watching,” he teased, blue eyes glistening with lust and playfulness.

“well, i am having a hard time,” he complained.

gojo chuckles against your skin again. “i see that,” he says mockingly, his eyes on the obvious tent in geto’s lap. “poor geto, having to watch us while he’s stuck on the bed all alone.” gojo’s words are almost patronizing, and he’s clearly enjoying himself now, seeing the look on geto’s face and the way he’s straining against the sheets.

“but that’s not fair for me, is it?” geto threw another complaint with a teasing tone, “i want a taste of her too.” gojo laughed faintly, clearly amused at geto’s words. “life’s not fair,” he replies, his mouth still against your skin, biting and licking.

“though i’ll admit, i’ve been a little greedy, haven’t i?” gojo lifts his head and looks you in the face, one hand caressing your cheek. “how about you, sweetheart? should i stop hogging all the attention?” you look at geto, seeing the pleading in his purple irises as he begs you silently. you chuckled at his expression before nodding and looking at your other boyfriend.

gojo looks at you for a moment, almost as if he’s contemplating. “are you sure? i can keep my hands on you a while longer. you seem to be enjoying it so much,” he softly spoke as if he tries to convince you to say no to geto. gojo’s hands have drifted back to your hips, his thumbs caressing your skin gently. “can the both of you just touch me?” you get impatient. gojo laughs again, clearly enjoying how impatient you’re getting now. “look at you being so eager,” he teases. “is that how good girls ask for what they want?”

you wrap your fingers around gojo's neck to give it a open-mouthed kiss before mumbling on his neck, “i mean, why can i have one when i can get two.”

gojo lets out a soft chuckle at your words. “oh, you’re getting feisty now, hmm?” he pulls you a little closer on his lap, his hands gripping your hips. “you have a point, sweetheart. but that doesn’t change the fact that i like having you all to myself.”

“oh come on!” geto groaned in annoyance, “i wanna feel her too, give me attention.” gojo laughed faintly at geto’s words, clearly enjoying his struggle. “i’m not even done with her yet, and you’re already getting impatient?” he looks you in the face, his eyes roaming over you. “and here i thought you were being such a good girl, not demanding anything.”

“what?” you throwing gojo offended look, “me? i'm just sitting still and looking pretty, i'm not doing anything.”

gojo hummed at your expression, enjoying the look on your face. “i know,” he responds, his hands caressing your thighs. “that’s why you’re being so good for me. you’re being all obedient and still. it’d be such a shame to change that now, huh?”

“uh-uhm,” you nod, this time hugging his neck as you look at geto who's begun to knit his eyebrows together. gojo chuckles again when you hug his neck, his hands moving up your sides, caressing you up and down. “so needy,” he teases faintly. “did you want to give geto some attention?”

still, with your arm wrapped around his neck and cheek resting against his cheek, you nod, “yes, please.” gojo smiles faintly, clearly enjoying having you this eager and submissive for him. he lifts his head from your neck and looks towards geto. “did you hear that, geto? the pretty girl wants to give you attention,” he says, his tone almost mocking.

geto stares at the two of you, his expression a mix of annoyance and arousal. “about time,” he grunts irritably. gojo smirks against your skin, his hand on your thigh giving you an encouraging squeeze. “you heard him, baby. go on. give him what he wants.”

with gojo’s hand guiding you, you shift forward and move off his lap. you settle onto geto’s now, your thighs straddling his hips. in this position, you’re seated up higher on his lap, your chest just slightly above his eyesight.

geto’s hands fly to your waist as you settle on his lap. his fingers press hard into your bare skin as he looks up at you with his sharp, cat-like eyes. “look at you,” he says, his voice deep with lust, looking at your naked body. “you just look so beautiful, sweetheart.”

gojo’s body moves behind you, his chest pressing against your back. you feel him move the shower-damp hair on your neck to the side and out of the way. he leans forward to hover over your shoulder, his lips mere inches away from your neck.

“you look so pretty sitting on his lap, baby,” gojo murmurs in your ear. “so perfect with that towel around you.” his large hand moves to your thigh, his fingers tracing the hem of the towel that still wraps around your waist. “but i think it would look much prettier… on the floor.”

while you’re distracted with geto, one of gojo’s hands sneaks from behind you to tug at the towel. the other hand moves your hair to the side so that it falls over one shoulder, exposing your back to him. the towel falls loose, and gojo starts planting kisses along the slope of your back.

both of geto’s hands press firmly into your hips as he guides your body down and closer to him. he lets out a pleased hum at the feel of your warm skin against his bare chest. “look at you,” he groans, eyes roaming over your form. “so perfect and so good.”

gojo’s lips travel down your spine, leaving a trail of hot, wet kisses down your back. “oh, baby,” he praises as he kisses a spot just above your tailbone, “such a pretty girl. so well-behaved, as always.” his hands move to squeeze both of your thighs. once he’s done admiring the skin there, his hand moves to the small of your back and gently pushes you forward, so that your chest is pressed flush against geto’s.

geto lets out a low, guttural growl as he feels your bare breasts against his chest. “fuck,” he groans, his hands gripping your hips so tight you know there’s likely to be marks left behind. his head drops forward as he lets his lips trail along your collarbone.

“she has such a pretty body, doesn’t she?” gojo muses, observing your and geto’s bodies so closely pressed together. he starts to leave little kisses on the back of your shoulders, “so good and soft.”

geto can only respond with a low hum of agreement. one of his hands move to grasp at the hair on the back of your head as he buries his face in your neck, his lips sucking on your skin hungrily.

“so small and perfectly perched on your lap.”

geto hums his agreement, his fingers digging into your hips as he helps you shift even closer to him. “sweetheart,” he says, his voice strained. “you feel so good. you have no idea what you’re doing to me, baby.”

gojo chuckles as he continues to kiss your shoulder, “oh, i think she knows exactly what she’s doing to us,” ge can see one of your hands reach down to grab at the skin of geto’s thigh, your fingers digging into his flesh.

geto lets out another small growl as your hand grips his thigh. a shudder goes through his body. “ah, she definitely knows what she’s doing. such a naughty girl.”

“no,” you whisper between your moan when they call you a naughty girl. geto's nails rooted gently on your skin sending a tingling sensation on your stomach. gojo chuckles against your skin. “no? you’re not being a naughty girl?” he nimbly moves to your other shoulder to leave another trail of kisses there. “are you sure about that, princess?”

geto’s hands continue to dig into your hips, controlling your movements. between the skin-to-skin contact of your bodies and gojo’s teeth on your neck, you can feel the tension and heat in the room mounting, slowly but surely.

you shake your head softly before mumbling another “n-no,” and let out another soft, breathy moan.

“you keep saying ‘no’, but i think your body’s saying something different,” gojo points out, his lips moving from your shoulder to the sensitive skin beneath your ear. “you keep shifting in sugu’s lap, and making these little noises. that doesn’t sound very ‘no’ to me, princess.”

“i'm s-sorry,” you stutter.

“sorry?” gojo repeats, chuckling at the way you’re falling apart just from some teasing. “it’s okay, sweetheart.” geto, who has been uncharacteristically quiet during this entire exchange, finally lets out a sharp exhale of breath as one of your hands grip his thigh again. he nuzzles into your neck as his hands grip you even tighter. “are you really sorry, baby?” gojo asks, his voice just a growl in your ear. “or do you just like winding us up?”

“i'm really sorry,” you moan again, and geto’s hands digging into your hips harder as he guides you to grind slowly against his lap. gojo chuckles again, enjoying the way you’re falling to pieces on top of geto. “are you sure? you sound so needy, princess. i don’t think you’re really sorry.”

geto can feel your body starting to move in slow motions on his lap. the hands on your hips move to press you down, as his hips start to rise to meet your movements. “she’s so needy,” he says in a low voice, to which gojo hums in agreement.

you shake your head and throw your head back in the slightest when you feel your bare pussy grinding on geto's clothed bulge, “s-sorry, but feel so good,” you mutter between your moan.

gojo and geto look at each other at your strangled words. they’ve reduced you to a mess of moans and broken sentences, and it’s all a result of their hands and mouths on your body.

they look back at you, taking in the way your head is flung back, exposing your chest and neck to them. both of them are staring at you like you’re their prey. and their prey right now is at their mercy. the back of your head rests against gojo's shoulder as you grind slowly against geto.

gojo lets you rest your head back on his shoulder so he’s now free to watch the show. he feels your soft hair against his bare chest, and the view he’s getting over your shoulder is driving him crazy.

geto starts to make a noise that seems like it’s a mixture between a sigh and a growl as he feels you grind against him once more. his hands hold your hips even tighter, encouraging you to keep up the pace. “that’s it, baby. keep doing that,” he murmurs.

gojo watches as your body moves gracefully against geto. he looks down at your body, admiring the way your back is arched, the curve of your spine leading down to your hips, which are being gripped so tightly by geto’s large hands.

he bites back a soft groan at the sight of you looking so perfect on another man’s lap. “you’re being so good for us right now, you know that?”

gojo takes off his white shirt before sitting on geto's lap behind you until your back touches his chest, skin to skin as your body keeps grinding on geto. gojo lets his body touch yours, your back resting against his chest. he can feel the heat radiating from your body as you writhe on top of geto. he leans down to kiss and nuzzle into your shoulder as you continue your movements.

geto’s breath comes out in quick gasps as you keep grinding against him. he holds your hips so tight there’ll likely be marks left behind. “sweetheart,” he grunts, struggling to form words between the heat and pleasure, “you’re killing me.”

“oh god..” you whimper.

your hand moves to the back of gojo's neck, holding him as a support. gojo chuckles softly against your skin at your whimper. “feels good huh, princess?” he murmurs into your ear. feeling your hand move to the back of his neck, he lets you hold him for support. he nips at your earlobe and continues to plant kisses down your neck and shoulder.

geto’s fingers dig into your hips again as you keep grinding against him. his breath comes out in short, hard pants, the sound right in your ear. “keep going, baby,” he urges.

the room is full of nothing but heavy breaths and the soft sounds of skin against skin. gojo has started to move his lips from your shoulder to the back of your neck and down to your shoulder blades. his hips are doing the same grinding motion as yours, his body moving in perfect unison with you.

geto looks up at both of you, watching as you both move on his lap. his lips part with a gasp as one of his hands moves from your hip to the back of your head, pulling you down to his neck.

a shiver goes through your body from the way geto manhandles you to pull you down closer. “there you go, sweetheart,” he grunts as he noses your hair and then rests his chin on your shoulder. “god, you look so good right now.”

gojo lets out a hum of agreement, his lips still on your skin. his large hands travel from your shoulders down to your hips, resting right over geto’s hands. geto leans closer until his head is above your shoulder to kiss gojo— still, the three of you keep grinding at each other. the kiss between gojo and geto is messy and frenzied, and so right above you since you’ve been pulled down against geto’s body. gojo moans in response to the kiss as he deepens it, his tongue swiping against geto’s lips.

geto grips onto your hips even tighter, his fingers digging into your soft skin. he lets out groans as he kisses gojo, the sound muffled by gojo’s mouth.

the three of you are starting to move against each other in more frantic motions. there’s an increasing desperation in geto’s grip on your hips and the way gojo and geto are now kissing, more tongue and teeth than pure lips.

it’s hot and heavy, and the temperature of the room is rising with each passing second. gojo finally breaks away from the kiss, his breath harsh and strained. “fuck,” he mutters, his hands holding your hips as well as geto’s.

gojo’s head drops down to your shoulder, nuzzling his nose into your collarbone. it’s all getting too much. the sounds of heavy breaths and moans, skin pressing up against the skin, the friction all combining to heighten the pleasure, the heat, the pressure.

geto’s grip on you is so tight you’re pretty sure there will be marks on your skin. “sweetheart, i—” he gets cut off by one of your movements that has him groaning suddenly and loudly.

“what is it, baby?” gojo teases, his voice slightly muffled in the crook of your neck. a small chuckle rumbles in his chest as he continues planting kisses on your skin. “that wasn’t exactly an answer, sugu.” geto grunts as you continue moving on top of him, your body grinding against his. “i’m so close, sweetheart.” he mutters, his voice breaking in the middle. “m-me too baby— oh, fuck,” you nod, moaning mess on suguru's neck.

gojo lets out a pleased hum when you answer, his teeth nipping at your skin. “i knew it,” he says, sounding somehow smug and cocky, even at this moment. “you just look so perfect grinding against him; how could you not be close, princess.”

geto’s body tenses and shudders beneath you. “god, it’s not fair how perfect you are.” he groans between heavy breaths. “you’re going to make me lose it, and we just started.” you grind faster than before on his clothes cock. feeling the warm and twitching on his cock make you moan louder, “oh, god. .”

“lose what, baby?” gojo continues to taunt, his voice soft and yet full of a teasing edge to it. “your composure? your mind? your load? i’ve already lost all of those things.” geto growls and nips at your shoulder as gojo continues goading him. “what are you, twelve?” he asks, his voice a mix between annoyance and desire. as you reach your edge you arm wrap another geto's shoulder while the other back to the back of gojo's neck, gripping on his undercut.

“oh, god,” both gojo and geto murmur at your hand in gojo’s hair, gripping his undercut. geto can feel your body start to lose its rhythm, becoming less focused on movement, and more concerned with reaching your peak. “that’s it, baby,” he grunts, his fingers pressing into your hips so hard you think you’ll have marks in an hour. “keep moving like that, for me, please,” he pleads between his moan.

gojo’s hands on your hips tighten at his words. “that’s it,” he agrees, his mouth back on your skin. “o-oh, sugu,” you are crying, begging to reach your peak when your legs start shaking. “oh, baby, look at her shaking like that,” gojo comments lazily against your shoulder. “she must be right there, on the edge, just begging to go over.”

geto can’t respond, he’s simply holding onto you and letting out breathless “oh god, oh god, oh god” between his pants. he’s gripping onto your hips to push you even closer against him. “just a little more, sweetheart” he urges, “a little more for me. you’re almost there.”

gojo’s hand moves to your face, his fingers tilting your chin to the side so that your face is in his eye-line. “you’re so good, princess,” he coos, his voice a low and gentle murmur in your ear. “look at you. so perfect, falling apart just from riding his lap.”

geto’s forehead rests against the crook of your shoulder as he gasps, breathless. “please, baby, so close, just a little more.” your hip moves slower before abruptly moving faster, pulling a string of heavy grunt and moan from geto. with geto holding onto your hips so tight and gojo’s fingers pressing into your skin, you’re so close, so close and almost there. “that’s right, princess,” gojo murmurs, his voice the only soothing presence among everything that’s happening. “you’re being so good for us, so perfect”

geto’s forehead sinks further into your shoulder. “please, baby, i need it, just a little more. that’s it, that’s it.” gojo can see the look on your face, the desperation, the need, the pleasure that’s threatening to overwhelm you and tear you apart. he holds you so close, his teeth nipping at your shoulder. “almost there,” he encourages. “just a little more, beautiful girl. you can do it. i know you can.” geto’s words become more desperate, his breathing more broken and stilted. “baby, please, baby, please, i—”

gojo feels the moment you and geto reach your peak together. his hands run through your hair when he feels your body shudder and then go limp. he lets his teeth graze the side of your neck as you collapse against him. “that’s it, sweetheart,” he says, a smirk on his lips, “look at you. perfect.”

geto’s hands loosen their grip on your hips as he also takes in ragged breaths. the three of you are now sitting and panting on the bed in silence. “that was hot,” gojo finally says after a moment, and there’s a distinct hint of cockyness in his voice.

geto grunts in response as he lets the three of you fall back down on the bed from where you were still seated over top of him. “i can’t feel my legs,” he moans, his hands still gripping onto your hips.

“don’t be so whiny,” gojo scoffs, but he’s chuckling as he says it. his hands begin their gentle movements through your hair again. “we didn’t even do anything.” geto lets out another breathless scoff. “you didn’t do anything, idiot” he protests. “i did all the work.”

“you both did all the work, to be fair” gojo says, still sounding lazy. “i just sat back and enjoyed the show.”

“lazy ass,” geto chuckles. his hands are now gently massaging your hips where he knows there’ll now be marks from his fingers. “you just sat there and watched, while i had to do all the work.” gojo snorts and scoff, “yes, because a beautiful woman grinding against you is such hard work, i’m sure you suffered very much.”

geto lets out a huff of laughter. “just because i enjoyed working for it doesn’t mean it wasn’t hard work,” he retorts. “i’m the reason she was so turned on.”

“i’m the one who set her up for it in the first place,” gojo argues back, chuckling. “i’m the reason she was so eager to ride your lap.” geto lets out another scoff, a smirk on his face. “you’re forgetting who’s an idea this whole thing was in the first place,” he says— it was gojo's idea in the first place, by the way.

“oh, i’m not forgetting,” gojo responds, and there’s a hint of smugness in his voice now. “i’m just saying i’m the one who prepared her for you.” they keep bickering without realizing you silently took a pillow and hit them in the head, “shut the fuck up! i can't even catch my breath in silence, god!” you groan before resting your cheek on geto's shoulder.

gojo and geto stop their bickering immediately at the sound of your annoyed groan, and they both turn to look at you. they’re too shocked and confused to say anything at first.

gojo is the first to speak. “did you just hit us with a pillow?” he asks, his voice a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “damn right, want me to elbow your handsome face too?” you glare at him over your shoulder. gojo quickly holds his hands up in surrender. “no, please don’t!” he pleads, a mock-offended look on his face.

there’s a chuckle from geto, who’s looking down at your face as you glare up at gojo. he pats your hip gently, “you look a little pissed, darling.” his warm hand wraps over you and caresses your back lovingly. “i can't feel my legs and at the same time i think it's still shaking, does that make sense?” you ask, pouting as you still rest your cheek against his shoulder

both of them chuckle again at your pout. geto's hands rub up and down your hips, soothing the skin that his fingers were gripping so tightly. “you’re not used to us yet, sweetheart,” he says, still chuckling. “it’s going to take some time for you to get back on your feet after we’ve given you such a good time.”

you groan as you hide your face on geto's chest. “oh god, we're not even fucking yet,” you let out a heavy sigh. gojo lets out a laugh again, loving the mixture of exhaustion and annoyance in your voice. “damn, princess, look at you already begging for it,” he teases.

geto just chuckles and shakes his head, still massaging your hips. “you’re a mess right now, baby,” he smiles and pokes your cheek lightly. “shut up, i-i'm not begging,” you lightly smack gojo's bare chest before back to rest your cheek against geto's chest to look at gojo who's still sit on the black-haired man behind you.

gojo lets out a scoff of disbelief at the smack to his chest. “you’re not begging? because you sound awfully needy to me,” he teases, clearly knowing what annoys you and relishing in it. geto rolls his eyes at gojo, giving his arm a smack. “stop being a dick to her,” he says with a chuckle.

gojo lets out another laugh, enjoying that he’s getting a reaction from you. “i’m not being a dick, i’m just pointing out the truth!” he says, still sounding cocky and amused. geto grumbles under his breath and pats your hips again. “ignore him, baby,” he says. “he’s just being a douchebag because you’re paying attention to me.” gojo glares at geto after hearing the words rolling out from his mouth. you giggle and stick your tongue to gojo over your shoulder.

gojo lets out a snort of laughter when you give him the tongue. “cute,” he says, his smile wide. “you’re such a child sometimes, you know that?” geto just shakes his head, hiding a smile behind your head as he kisses it. “shut up,” you giggle again as gojo leans closer until his lips touch yours and kiss you.

gojo’s lips are gentle when they touch yours, a contrast to the cocky attitude he was just showing. he takes advantage of how you’re still leaning against geto's chest on his lap on the bed, and reaches over to hold the side of your face while he kisses you, keeping you steady. geto watches the two of you, one hand still rubbing your hips while the other holds your waist, steadying your position on top of him.

gojo deepens the kiss as his tongue slides over your bottom lip and swipes at it, pushing into your mouth and against your tongue. he’s still leaning over your back from behind, one hand keeping the side of your face steady as his other one moves to rest on your thigh.

geto can feel the way your legs are shifting involuntarily from the way gojo moves, and his grip on your waist tightens to keep you in place. gojo slowly deepens the kiss, his tongue slipping through your parted lips to play with yours lazily. “you’re so cute,” he mutters against your mouth between kisses, his voice barely above a whisper.

geto watches as you and gojo continue to kiss above him, his hands still resting on you. he just hums quietly, enjoying the sight. gojo continues to kiss you, his tongue dancing with yours at a slow pace. there’s no urgency to the way he kisses you, he seems content to lazily move his lips against yours and hold your face in his hand.

geto is watching the two of you intently, his hands still resting on your body as he takes in the sight of you both. he lets out a soft hum, but doesn’t say anything, just watching as gojo’s tongue moves against yours. his kiss moves down along your jaw and then down your neck, his lips trailing over your skin until he reaches the back of your shoulder. as his mouth touches the sensitive skin behind your ear, he presses another gentle kiss there before muttering in your ear.

“do you think you can take another round, baby?” his voice is a mix of teasing and affection.

as gojo whispers the question into your ear, you can feel geto’s arms gently loosen their grip on your hips. he can probably sense that the three of you are starting to transition to the second round.

his hands move so that they are now resting on the outside of your thighs. his palms are flat against your skin, but still holding you in place on his lap. he’s looking up at you, waiting for your response.

“p-please...” you beg, your hand moving slowly to gripping on gojo's hands, giving him another begging through physical. at your pitiful, “please”, both gojo and geto are unable to hold back a reaction. they can both tell you’re getting needy already.

when gojo hears you begging, he hums against your shoulder and bites down gently on the skin there, leaving a light mark. geto’s hands move gently up and down your thighs as he responds to your plea. “please what, baby?” he asks, his voice a mixture of tease and desire. “please, fuck me..” your words come out breathy.

when you gasp out the plea, there’s another soft chuckle from gojo, and he sucked another mark into the skin of your shoulder. meanwhile, geto lets out a low exhale of air at the explicit request. “god, i love your mouth when you say things like that,” he says, and the words are more of a growl than anything. his hands tighten their grip on your thighs.

gojo straightens so that his mouth is no longer at the back of your shoulder. he’s looking down at you now, a smirk on his face. “that’s not very polite, princess,” he teases. “you need to learn how to ask nicely”

meanwhile, geto’s hands rub up and down your thighs. he’s also watching your face, amused at the way you’re already begging. “but i said please..” you let out a soft whining. gojo chuckles at that response. “i know you said please, but you can do better than that,” he says, his hand still on your face. geto hums, and you can feel his fingers digging into your skin. “come on, baby, tell us what you want. say it like a good girl,” he says, his voice low and teasing.

you wrapped your finger around his wrist that is still on your face, “please baby, i wanna feel your dick inside me so bad . .” at the sound of your words, and the pleading tone in your voice, both gojo and geto react. gojo’s hand tightens slightly against your cheek. geto lets out a low, satisfied groan at your request. “you’re such a good girl for us,” he says, biting your shoulder gently

gojo lets out another low chuckle as you wrap your fingers around his wrist. “you’ve got a mouth on you, you know that?” he says teasingly, his smile still on his lips. he’s amused by the way you’re asking.

meanwhile, geto lets out another low exhale against your skin. “fuck, i love how desperate you’re sounding right now,” he mutters, his hands moving to grip your thighs again. gojo pulls your face slightly closer so that he’s looking you right in the eye. “you want it that badly, huh?” he asks, his voice a mix of amusement and a hint of condescension.

geto is still watching your face intently, his hands gripping your thighs tightly. he can feel the way your skin is quivering against his touch. “you’re such a needy little thing right now, aren’t you?” he mutters against your shoulder before leaving another mark on the skin. you nodded, your eyes practically begging as you lost between gojo's azure eyes. “please. . ”

gojo lets out another chuckle when he sees the pleading look in your eyes. “you’re so cute when you look at me like that,” he says. geto still has his eyes on your face, watching the expressions you’re making in your desperation. “look at you, being all needy and beautiful,” he says, the words a mixture of compliment and amused taunt. his grip on your thighs tightens even more.

gojo leans in a bit closer, the smirk still on his face. “you want it that badly, hm?” he asks again, his voice still teasing. geto can feel the way your skin is quivering and shaking in his grip, your body desperately craving more touch and more attention. “god, watching you like this is so hot,” he mutters, leaving another mark on the skin of your shoulder.

gojo’s hand moves from your face to your shoulder, holding you lightly while his lips press against your skin. his other hand is working to pull off his shorts.

when he kicks off his shorts, geto is now holding you by the waist with one hand, his other hand still gripping your thighs. he lets out another low, satisfied hum when he sees gojo now completely naked. “god, you’re so hot,” he mutters against the skin of your neck.

gojo lets out a light chuckle when he hears geto’s mutter. “i take it you’re liking the view,” he comments, his voice still amused. geto just nods, his lips still on your neck. “you look even better naked,” he says, his voice a low, hungry-sounding growl. he’s still holding you and biting your skin, his hand on your thigh gripping you tightly.

in the meantime, gojo has now moved his hands to your waist, replacing geto’s hands on your hips. his hands are firm and steady on your skin, holding you steadily in place on his lap.

“are you ready, baby?” he asks, shifting his body slightly so that you can feel him even more clearly against you. “yes, please..” you nod, your eyes glisten as you look at gojo. gojo lets out another low laugh when he hears your response. “god, you’re so gorgeous when you’re begging,” he says, his voice a mix of amusement and desire.

geto is still watching the two of you intently, his breath hitches when he hears you pleading. “you’re such a good girl for us,” he mutters against your skin before leaving another mark on your neck. gojo lets out a low chuckle at the feeling of your body quivering and shaking in anticipation. “you’re shaking so much, it’s adorable,“ he says, his voice a mix of amusement and desire.

geto, who’s still lying back on the bed, lets out a low hum when he feels how hard gojo is against you. “god, you’re so eager,” he mutters, his breath still coming out in low, satisfied pants. geto shifts his position slightly, adjusting his hold on you. his hand slips down from your hip to your ass, groping at your plump flesh before giving it a light squeeze. the other hand reaches up to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back to expose your throat. “ready?” he echoes, his tone low and filled with anticipation.

you nodded, hands gripping tightly on geto's shoulder as you squirm on his lap. “oh— fuck!” a long groan pushing past your lips the moment gojo's cock slowly entering your pussy from behind, fucking you while you on sit top of geto's lap.

geto's eyes darken with lust as he watches gojo enter you from behind. he leans in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers, “that's it, baby. take his cock like a good girl.” his hand in your hair tightens, tilting your head to the side to expose your neck further. suguru's tongue darts out, licking a stripe up your throat before his teeth graze over your pulse point.

“fuck, you're so sexy like this,” he groans, his own arousal evident in the growing bulge pressing against your pussy. geto starts to rock his hips in time with gojo's thrusts, grinding his clothed cock against your pussy once again.

geto continues to grind his hardening cock against your slick folds, the friction making him hiss through clenched teeth. his free hand slides down to cup your mound, fingers spreading your lips apart to gain better access. with each thrust from behind, geto rubs his thumb over your clit, applying just the right amount of pressure to send sparks of pleasure shooting through your nerves. “f-fuck—” you stutter from the pleasure of geto's hand and gojo's dick.

“so wet,” he murmurs, his voice laced with pride and desire. “can't wait to taste you later,” geto leans in to capture your mouth in a deep, passionate kiss, swallowing your moans as gojo picks up the pace, driving into you harder and faster.

“o-oh, god, 'toru. . ” you moan against geto's lips.

geto breaks away from the kiss only to trail kisses down your jawline and neck, leaving a burning path wherever his lips touch. his grip on your hair tightens even more, pulling your head back to expose your throat fully. geto's tongue traces over your collarbone before descending lower, towards the valley between your breasts.

“so good f’ me, s-so fucking good,” gojo whimpering, continues to pound into you relentlessly from behind. geto takes advantage of every movement to tease and torment your sensitive nipples. his thumb brushes over your clit again and again, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your veins.

“oh fuck— toru. . .” tears are swelling up to the corner of your eyes as geto's grips your hair until you look up and meet with gojo's eyes. gojo's nails rooted on your skin as he keep thrust his cock inside your pussy.

geto's gaze flickers up to meet yours, his dark eyes blazing with raw need. he gives your hair a sharp tug, forcing you to arch your back and push your chest closer to his teasing mouth. “look at me, baby,” he commands softly but firmly, wanting nothing more than to see the pleasure etched onto your features.

as gojo's relentless pounding sends waves of ecstasy crashing through your body, suguru's hands become even more insistent, kneading and squeezing at your breasts mercilessly. he bites down gently on your nipple, a soft gasp escaping his lips as he feels how hard you've gotten for them both.

geto's heart pounds wildly against your cheek as he watches gojo take control, pushing you down onto his lap. he grips your hips tighter, guiding your movements to match gojo's rhythm perfectly. each thrust drives deeper, stretching you deliciously around his girthy length. “so fucking tight,” gojo groans, leaning forward to bite down on the curve of your shoulder. his hands roam over your back, tracing along your spine before sliding up to grasp at your hair. with deft fingers,

as gojo's teeth sink into your shoulder, a sharp cry escapes from your lips. geto's hands leave your breasts to slide down your sides, trailing fire across your skin. when he reaches your thighs, he grips them firmly, spreading them wider to give gojo better access. his thumbs press against your inner thighs, rubbing circles into your tender flesh as he watches gojo's cock disappear and reappear from within you. “fuck baby, you look so perfect taking him like that,” geto murmurs, his voice thick with lust.

geto's gaze fixates on where their bodies join, watching intently as gojo pistons in and out of you. a low growl rumbles in his throat as he observes the way your curves ripple with each powerful thrust. his hands glide back up to your breasts, kneading them roughly once again. geto leans in close, whispering dirty words into your ear about what they plan to do with you once they're done with this.

“ah— i-i'm close,” you whimper, eyes glisten with tears.

geto's eyes flash with excitement at your confession, his hands becoming even more demanding on your body. “come for us then, baby,” he urges, his voice dripping with seduction. “let us feel you fall apart,” gojo added. as if sensing your impending climax, gojo redoubles his efforts, slamming into you with renewed vigor. geto mirrors his actions, pinching and rolling your nipples between his fingers, coaxing out every last drop of pleasure from your trembling form.

geto can hardly contain himself as he watches you teeter on the edge of release. his fingers dig into your flesh, urging you closer to that blissful precipice. “do it,” he pleads, his voice ragged with desire. “give it all to us.” as if responding to his plea, gojo slams into you one final time, triggering your orgasm. your walls clench around him desperately, milking his throbbing member for everything it's worth.

geto watches, entranced, as your body convulses in pleasure beneath them. he can't help but be moved by the sight of you unraveling under their combined ministrations. “that's it,” he encourages, feeling a surge of pride swell within him. “show us how much you love being used like this.” as your climax begins to wane, geto leans in to claim another searing kiss, tasting the saltiness of your sweat on your lips.

gojo watches as you convulse beneath them, his hands still tight on your hips as he looks down at you. the sound of you unraveling is only adding to his own desire, and he lets out a low laugh of satisfaction. “god damn, you’re incredible,” he mutters, his voice rough.

geto, meanwhile, pulls you into another searing kiss, claiming your lips again. his tongue delves into your mouth, tasting the saltiness of your sweat. as geto’s tongue dominates your mouth, gojo watches the two of you intently, his hands still on your hips, holding you in place. his eyes move back and forth between you and geto, watching closely to catalogue every reaction and expression.

“god, you two look good together” he mutters, his voice rough. his grip tightens on your hips as he watches the two of you make out. gojo is still breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling as he tries to catch his breath after pulling out of you. he’s watching as you fall apart on geto’s arm, your eyes closed as you try to catch your own breath.

“you look so beautiful,” he mutters, his voice is still rough. his hand reaches out and brushes the hair off your face. meanwhile, geto is still sitting against the headboard, his arm still around you as you try to catch your breath. he’s watching you intently as you recover, and his hand gently rubs your back in soothing circles. “you did so good, baby” he mutters, his voice soft, “you’re so beautiful.”

gojo gets up from geto’s lap, and gently pulls you to lay you down on the bed, making sure you’re comfortable. he moves so that he’s now lying next to you on the bed, his hand still resting lightly on your hip.

geto watches as you lie down on the bed and moves over so that he’s now lying next to you, too. he rests his hand on your stomach, his thumb rubbing gentle circles in your skin. as the three of you lay there together, there’s a moment of comfortable silence, with the only sound being the evenness of your breaths. gojo and geto are both still touching you, their hands gently rubbing your skin wherever they can reach.

“how are you feeling, baby?” gojo asks after a few moments, his voice soft and gentle.

you give him a weak smile, “perfect.”

“perfect,” gojo repeats, his voice satisfied as he echoes your word. he’s still resting next to you, his hand still gently making patterns on your skin. geto, who’s lying on your other side, also hums his agreement. “you look perfect,” he mutters, his fingers still rubbing your stomach. “you did so well,” he draw another mutter on your skin to kiss your forehead.

there’s another moment of comfortable silence, with the three of you just laying there together and enjoying the afterglow. gojo’s hand continues to gently rub your skin, and geto's hand is still moving in slow circles on your stomach. “can i ask you something, princess?” gojo says suddenly, his voice still soft and gentle.

you open your eyes and turn your head to look at gojo, “what is it?” you ask him, voice soft and dripping with tiredness.

gojo looks down at you as you turn your head to look at him, his eyes lingering on your face. he can see the exhaustion in your eyes and in your voice, which seems to be dripping with tiredness.

“i just wanted to ask…” he pauses for a moment, his hand still rubbing slow circles on your skin. “you enjoyed that, right?” he asks, his voice gentle and concerned. you look at him like he's the most stupid person in the world that makes you confused, “yeah?” you ask.

gojo notices the look on your face and laughs at your question. “okay, well, don’t give me that look,” he says jokingly. geto, who’s lying on your other side, also laughs, his hand still rubbing soothing circles on your stomach. “don't insult him, he’s just checking in, princess,” he says, his voice amused.

gojo chuckles again before continuing. “i know you enjoyed it, i just want to make sure” he says, his voice serious again. he pauses for another moment, still looking at you intently. “i just want to make sure you’re comfortable and happy,” he says, his voice earnest. gojo is still watching your face, waiting for your answer. “you’d tell us if you didn’t, right?” he asks, his voice a mixture of curiosity and concern.

“do you want me to tell you if i didn't?”

“yes.” both gojo and geto answer at the same time. geto glances over at gojo before turning his attention back to you, his hand still rubbing your stomach. “we want to know if you had a good time,” he says, his voice serious.

gojo nods in agreement. “yeah, if you didn’t enjoy something, we want you to tell us,” he says. “your comfort and happiness are important to us, princess,” he adds. you nod, taking their hand to plant a kiss on the back of their hand, “then i will.”

gojo and geto both watch as you take their hands and plant a kiss on the backs. they both smile at the gesture, clearly touched by the small act of affection.

“good,” gojo says, his voice satisfied. “that’s all we want, you to be honest and comfortable,” he adds, his hand gently squeezing yours. geto hums in agreement, his hand rubbing the back of yours. “we value your feelings more than anything, princess,” he mutters, his voice soft and sincere.

there’s a moment of comfortable silence again, as the three of you just lay there together, your hands still intertwined. gojo and geto are both watching you closely, their eyes taking in your every expression.

“you look tired,” gojo finally says, breaking the silence. he’s still holding your hand, his thumb tracing gentle patterns on your skin. you nod, “just a little,” you softly speak before pushing your body away from the bed to sit up. “i'm going to get a drink first,” you tell them. you took gojo's white shirt that he used before and put it on you.

gojo watches as you push yourself up from the bed and put on his shirt. his eyes trail over your body, admiring the way the fabric of his shirt hangs on your figure. he’s about to speak when geto reaches out and grabs your arm, keeping you in place.

“you don’t have to get up, i’ll get you a drink,” he says, his voice gentle and affectionate. “thank you,” you said politely as you smiled at him. “of course,” geto says, smiling back at you. he pats you gently on the head before getting up from the bed.

gojo watches as geto walks out of the bedroom, his eyes lingering on his naked back as he leaves the room. “damn, he’s hot,” he mutters, his voice low enough that only you can hear it. you look at him with your eyebrows knit together softly before rolling your eyes, “god, you're such a horn dog.”

gojo lets out a low laugh when he hears your comment. “hey, i can’t help it if i appreciate a nice body,” he says, his voice still low. he looks over at you, a smirk on his face. “you can’t deny he looks good,” he adds, his eyes trailing over your figure in his shirt.

gojo chuckles and pulls you towards him again, your bodies pressing against each other. “i mean, yeah he's hot but— ah fuck it, let's objectifying him,” you giggle as you wrap your arm around gojo's waist. when he hears you say you’d like to objectify him, his smirk widens. “yeah, let’s do it,” he says, his voice low.

he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you even closer, his hand gently rubbing small circles on your lower back. “his ass is pretty great,” he mutters, his eyes raking over your figure in his shirt.

you nodded, “his dick too.”

gojo laughs out loud at your comment, clearly having not expected it. “god damn, baby,” he mutters, his voice full of humor. “yeah, it’s very good,” he agrees, his eyes still roaming over your body in his shirt. “how’d you fit it all in your mouth?” he teases, using his free hand to gently brush your hair behind your ear. “have no idea,” you shake your head as you laugh.

gojo laughs again when he hears your reply, clearly enjoying the conversation. he moves his head so that it’s right next to your ear, and his voice is a low murmur when he speaks again. “you look so good in my shirt,” he mutters, his breath hot against your skin. “thank you,” you smile at him as you look up. your fingers run across his arm.

gojo smiles back at you, his hand still rubbing small circles on your lower back. he takes a moment to admire your expression, his eyes drinking in how your face looks when you’re smiling up at him.

“i like it when you wear my clothes,” he admits, his voice low, “it reminds me that you’re mine.” gojo looks deep into your eyes for a moment, taking in your expression and the soft smile on your lips. he then presses his lips against your forehead in a gentle kiss, his lips lingering against your skin.

“you’re adorable, you know that?” he mutters, still holding you close to him. just then, geto walks back into the room, holding a glass of water in his hand. When he sees you and gojo cuddled together on the bed, he raises an eyebrow. “did i miss something?” he asks jokingly, a hint of curiosity in his voice.

“we're objectifying you,” you said, giggling.

geto lets out a chuckle when he hears you say you’re objectifying him. “oh, is that so?” he asks, his voice amused. he takes a few steps closer to the bed, a small smile on his face. “anything interesting being said?” he asks, looking over at gojo who’s still holding you against him.

geto walk over to the other side of the bed and hand you the water as he takes a seat beside you. gojo looks over at geto, a smirk on his face. “oh, just talking about how good you look,” he says casually, his hand still rubbing small circles on your lower back.

geto lets out a low laugh when he hears gojo’s comment, clearly somewhat amused by it. he watches as you take the glass of water from his hand, and takes a moment to admire your pretty face before pinching your cheek. “just my looks?” he teases, his voice low and sultry. “not my skills?” he asks, his hand coming to rest on your thigh.

gojo smirks again when he hears his comment, his hand still idly rubbing small circles on your lower back. “oh, your skills are definitely being appreciated too,” he says. he looks over at geto, his eyes trailing over his body. “a very important part of you,” he adds, his voice low.

they both stop talking and watch as you take sips from the water, both of them clearly enjoying the sight. gojo's hand is still rubbing your lower back, his eyes never leaving you as you drink. meanwhile, geto's hand is still resting on your thigh; his eyes are looking at the way your throat moves as you swallow.

“what?” you look at them as you hesitate to pull the glass away from your face. gojo and geto both look at you when you look at them, both of them still admiring your pretty face. “just enjoying the view,” gojo says simply, his hand still rubbing circles on your back. “you look very pretty while drinking,” geto adds, his hand still resting on your thigh.

after finishing, you hand the half-empty glass to gojo and cast a questioning glance at geto. “what’s so pretty about drinking?” you ask, slightly puzzled. gojo takes the water glass from you and sets it down on the bedside table. both gojo and geto are still looking at you, their expressions amused by your question.

“just the way your neck moves when you swallow,” geto says simply.

gojo nods in agreement. “yeah, it’s pretty hot,” he adds, his eyes trailing over the smooth line of your throat. you just rolled your eyes at your two boyfriends horniness before placing a pillow behind you and pulling a blanket over your body as you lay down.

gojo and geto both chuckled at your eye roll, clearly amused by your reaction to their horniness. gojo watches as you place a pillow behind you and pull a blanket over your body, his eyes trailing over your form as you get comfortable. geto leans over and pats your head gently, a smile on his face. “comfy?” he asks, his voice soft.

you nod and smile at him before turning to gojo, who is still eyeing you with a hungry gaze. “go to sleep, dickhead. it’s almost three in the morning,” you say, giving him a nasty look.

gojo laughs at your comment, amused by your words. “but i’m not tired,” he says, his eyes still roaming over your body.

“yeah, i’m not tired either,” geto agrees, his hand still patting your head gently. “but, i am,” you mumble, pulling the blanket until it reaches your chin.

as soon as you mumble that you’re tired, both gojo and geto’s expressions soften. they both look at you for a moment, taking in your sleepy face and the way the blanket is pulled up to your chin. “okay princess,” gojo says, his voice gentle. “we’ll go to sleep,” he assures you, his hand still rubbing gentle circles on your lower back.

they both eventually join you, lying on their sides as you shift to face them as well. gojo pulls you closer, so your back is against his chest, while the two of you face geto. as soon as all three of you are lying down on the bed, gojo pulls you closer to him, your back pressed against his chest. he wraps his arm around your waist, his hand resting on your stomach.

geto watches as you and gojo get comfortable, a small smile on his face. he shifts so that he’s a little closer to you, his eyes roaming over your pretty face. despite all three of you being tired, you don’t close your eyes right away. instead, gojo and geto both continue to talk softly, their voices quiet and drowsy.

gojo’s hand is still resting on your stomach, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on your skin. meanwhile, geto’s eyes are still fixed on your face, a small smile on his lips as he watches you listen.

gojo and geto continue talking quietly, their voices low and drowsy as they converse. meanwhile, you pull your phone out from under the pillow and start using it. gojo glances down and sees that you’re using your phone, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. “what are you doing, princess?” he asks, his voice soft.

“just scrolling,” you mumble, the light from your phone illuminating your face. they don’t say anything and continue their quiet conversation. both gojo and geto glance down at your phone, noticing how the light from it illuminates your face, making you look even prettier under the dim lighting of the room. “what are you scrolling through?” gojo asks, his voice sounding just a hint too interested.

“just some tiktok videos, baby,” you reply softly. they nod and allow you to continue, not really focusing on your phone as they keep chatting. gojo and geto both nod as you tell them that you’re just scrolling through some tiktok videos, their focus more on their conversation rather than what you’re doing on your phone.

“that’s cool,” gojo says, his voice absent-minded as his hand keeps rubbing small circles on your stomach.

after a few minutes, gojo notices that the sound from your phone keeps repeating as if a certain video is on a loop. he glances down at you and sees that your eyes are closed, your breathing slower and more steady.

when he realizes you’ve fallen asleep with your phone still on, a small smile forms on his face. he reaches out and gently takes your phone out of your grasp, setting it down on the bedside table. geto also notices that you’ve fallen asleep and looks down at you with a soft smile on his face.

he reaches out and brushes a strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle so as not to wake you up. “she’s asleep,” he murmurs to gojo, his voice barely above a whisper.

gojo nods in agreement, his eyes still fixed on your face. “yeah, she’s out cold,” he says, his voice just as quiet as geto’s. he leans down and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head, his hand gently stroking your stomach.

“we should go to sleep, too,” gojo whispers.

geto nods in agreement, his eyes still fixed on you sleeping. “yeah, we should,” he says, his voice soft. he shifts closer to you so that he’s a little nearer, his body warm and comfortable against yours.

geto gently presses a kiss to your forehead, murmuring, “sleep well, my love,” his voice tender and soft as he brushes his lips against your skin. he then turns to gojo, leaning in to give him a warm kiss as well. with a loving smile, he says, “good night, baby,” his tone is full of affection and care.

gojo smiles when he hears geto’s soft words, enjoying the gentle tone of his voice. “good night,” he murmurs, his voice low.

he reaches over and turns off the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. then he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, your back pressed against his chest.

[vampiefemme]

so, your best friend accidentally sent you a video of her masturbating. what now?

18+ below! smut smut smut!

ellie’s bedroom is heavy with the scent of sex, her fingers still pruned from her own wetness. she’s spent the last few minutes tense and panicked, too paralyzed with anxiety to get up and put some clothes on, and she’s considering what she’ll change her name to and where she’ll move to start a new life when you finally, finally text her back.

it’s okay. give me a second to reply, alright?

the weight on her chest eases a bit at your reassurance, but a new spark of uncertainty flares up at the second part of the message: give me a second to reply. jaw tight, she sends you a question mark, then follows up with you don’t have to respond. it’s probably better if you don’t?? again i’m so fucking sorry.

but as the minutes tick by, slow and lazed, she starts to panic again. her mind conjures every possible response you could send her next: an angry thesis statement on why ellie’s a disgusting pervert, a seething comment about how stupid she must be for sending a video like that so carelessly. would you ever look at her the same way? would things ever be the same?

all it takes is another notification from you to make every imagined worst-case scenario evaporate. ellie clicks the notification as soon as it pops up, chewing on the soft flesh of her inner lip.

it’s a video.

you sent her a video.

she hits the play button without a second thought, heartbeat thudding in her ears.

“i know you’re probably embarrassed,” you say, head tilting as you frown with sympathy. a blush paints ellie’s cheeks bright red. “but i need you to know how wet that made me.”

holding the camera up, you extend your arm outwards to reveal the rest of your body - your naked body, ellie realizes with a shock. she sits up in bed, back ramrod straight, her phone shaking as a nervous tremor strikes through her. but she can’t look away - not when you’re tracing a hand down the soft curves of your body, fingertips grazing over one peaked nipple, then moving lower, lower. ellie swears she’s forgotten how to breathe.

you release a pleased hum. “i liked watching you touch yourself,” you say, so matter-of-fact. “i hope you like watching me.”

and she does, god she does. she settles back down onto the mattress, eyes never leaving the screen as you work two fingers through your soaked folds. you moan and sigh and keen, rolling your hips down against your own hand, the wet sounds of your pussy so intoxicating, ellie can’t believe she’s gone her whole life without seeing you like this.

and it might be wrong, the way her own hand drifts between her legs to find herself still hot and wet, but she doesn’t have it in herself to care. she dips a finger inside of herself as she watches you ride your own hand, grinding down on your palm as your fingers work in and out of your cunt. she finds a rhythm that matches your own; soon enough, you’re both gasping at the pleasure building beneath your waistline. with every roll of your hips, ellie’s cunt tightens, flooding with slickness - as if she could get any wetter.

as you get closer to the edge, your grip on your phone falters and the camera starts to shake. ellie hisses and curses under her breath when your phone captures the blissed-out look on your face: eyes rolled back, brows pulled together, teeth sinking into your lower lip.

“oh - oh my god,” you stutter, panting, “i’m gonna come, ellie.”

ellie. ellie ellie ellie.

“holy fuck.” ellie’s pussy clamps down around her fingers at the sound of her name on your lips; her thumb glides over her clit just right, and she didn’t think she’d come this fast but she does, her vision exploding into blinding white as her orgasm crashes into her. it’s the only time she looks away from the video on her screen - but she certainly hears your orgasm, all high-pitched moans and ragged breaths, your cunt gushing onto your fingers.

when ellie finds the strength to open her eyes again, the video is still playing. you’re catching your breath, chest shimmering with a thin layer of sweat. you look at the camera and smile. ellie thinks she might pass out.

“thanks for the video,” you say, lifting your free hand up to wave.

when you bring your fingers to your mouth and purse your lips around them, sucking them clean of your own come, ellie’s sure she’s going to pass out.

and then, she decides, she’s going to fuck you stupid.

[rafestify]

need a rafe fic please where reader is part of the pogues, her and rafe have been on and off for forever obviously due to everything he’s done but deep down he’s so down bad for reader and maybe she’s pregnant instead of sarah and he doesn’t find out until morocco because the pogues are hovering over her idk angst fluff whatever you feel!!!

Two lines — Rafe Cameron

Summary : Fem!Reader is pregnant with Rafe’s baby, but he doesn't know until pope accidentally mentions her baby (season 4 ep 10 spoilers!! ⚠️)

Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Warnings : mentions of vomiting & language (english is not my first language)

A/N : as requested 😉 hope u like it anon!

Two lines, and the father was long gone, off doing god knows what. Rafe was the last guy I'd hooked up with, and even after we broke up, we somehow kept finding our way back to each other, especially after the Kildare Enduro. He knew no one else could satisfy me the way he did, and so it became this endless cycle, break up, hook up, make up. What Rafe didn’t know was that I was pregnant. I hadn’t planned on telling him, at least not until we made up.

There I was, back on Rafe’s boat with my friends, setting off to Morocco in search of the Blue Crown and Chandler Groff. My friends had locked Rafe up, tying him up in a small room, just in case. We all knew better than to trust Rafe Cameron, not after everything he’d done.

I walked into the dimly lit room, carrying a tray with a glass of water, a plate of food, and a couple of aspirin for his black eye. The sight of him, bruised, tugged at something deep inside me.

“Here,” I murmured, setting the tray down on the table beside him. “I brought some aspirin, just in case you’re feeling dizzy or something…”

He snorted, cutting me off. “What? You’re just gonna throw it in my mouth like I’m a fuckin' seal?” He wasn’t exactly wrong, but his sharp tone made me bristle. “Nobody trusts you, Rafe,” I replied, my voice steady. “Not after what you did.”

His jaw tightened, and a flash of anger sparked in his eyes. “I saved your asses!” he shot back, his face flushing with frustration. “And not even a thank you was said.”

I took a slow breath, steadying myself. “I know, Rafe. I know,” I said softly. “Thank you, really.” I offered him a small, sincere smile.

He looked at me for a moment, his gaze softening just slightly. “You trust me, right?” he asked, his voice quieter, a bit more vulnerable. I bit down on my lip, feeling the pull he always seemed to have on me.

“Yeah,” I admitted, almost reluctantly. God, he knew exactly how to get to me.

He looked at the ropes binding his wrists and nodded toward them. “Then untie me. Get this shit off me.”

I shook my head, feeling a pang of guilt but holding my ground. “I can’t. I’m sorry.” I pressed my lips together, trying to keep my resolve. “Just… eat the food. We wouldn’t want you dying in here.” With that, I turned and walked out, the door closing softly behind me, leaving me with a sigh that I didn’t even realize I’d been holding back.

As I stepped out of the room, I was met by Kiara’s anxious expression, her arms folded tightly as she waited. The moment she saw me, her face softened slightly, though worry still flickered in her eyes.

"How’d it go?" she asked quietly, as if afraid to hear the answer.

I shrugged, trying to mask the mixture of emotions stirring inside me. "Same old Rafe," I replied, keeping my tone light, but my gaze drifted, unable to meet hers directly.

Kiara studied me for a moment before speaking again. "Soo... did you tell him?"

I frowned, genuinely puzzled. "Tell him what?"

She raised an eyebrow, giving me a pointed look. "That you’re pregnant, with his child."

Oh, right. That one.

I swallowed, feeling a sudden knot in my stomach. "Uh—no, not yet," I admitted, my voice barely a whisper. "I just… I don’t know how he’d react." My hands found each other, my fingers nervously fidgeting as I tried to imagine how that conversation would even go. "What if he doesn’t want to keep the baby?"

Kiara sighed softly and reached out, placing a reassuring hand on my shoulder. Her warmth grounded me, pulling me back from my spiraling thoughts. "Look," she said firmly, her gaze locking onto mine. "You have us. We’ll help you through every single part of this. That’s what friends are for, right?"

I looked at her, the tension in my chest easing slightly. Her words held a strength that I so desperately needed. "Yeah," I whispered, a small smile breaking through my worry. "Thank you, Kie."

She wrapped her arms around me, pulling me into a hug, and for a moment, the uncertainty and fear faded. In her embrace, I felt a flicker of hope—a reminder that I wouldn’t have to face this alone.

After battling fierce winds and waves, we finally arrived in Essaouira. The coastal city spread before us, its whitewashed buildings with blue shutters gleaming under softened storm light. Narrow streets twisted through the medina, lined with shops selling handmade crafts and drenched in a timeless, rustic charm.

The Atlantic crashed against the ancient medina walls, sturdy and weathered, while blue fishing boats bobbed in the harbor—just like the skiffs in the Outer Banks. The salty air and easy warmth of the locals, the slow rhythm of the sea, and the hum of daily life brought back memories of home, as if Essaouira was a Moroccan echo of the Outer Banks.

We continued to wander through the narrow streets of Essaouira, the sound of bustling market vendors and the distant call of seagulls filling the air. John B and Sarah led the way, their steps light and carefree, like they had no care in the world. Following behind them was Cleo, Pope, and Kiara, their conversations flowing easily as they walked, with JJ and I bringing up the rear. But it was Rafe who trailed behind, his presence almost ghostlike, like a lost puppy, following silently in our wake.

As we strolled through the maze of alleyways, I felt a sudden, sharp wave of nausea hit me. It was sudden, and intense, as if something in my stomach was threatening to rise up. I let out a soft huff, pressing my hand to my stomach, trying to hold back the overwhelming feeling of sickness.

JJ, who had been walking beside me, must've noticed the change in my posture because he looked at me with concern. "Y/N?" he called, his voice laced with worry.

"Oh god," I muttered under my breath, the nausea worsening, my head spinning.

"What's wrong? You okay?" JJ asked, his voice low, concern evident on his face.

I shook my head, barely able to focus on him. "No... I need to sit," I said, my voice strained. I felt like I was going to collapse if I didn’t stop moving.

JJ quickly guided me to a pile of carpets that were stacked outside a shop. The soft fabric felt like a relief under me as I sat down, trying to steady my breathing. The rest of the group quickly noticed, and soon I was surrounded by their concerned faces. Kiara dropped to her knees in front of me, her eyes searching mine, her hand resting on my knee in a comforting gesture.

"What's up? What are you feeling?" she asked, her voice soft and filled with genuine concern.

"I'm really nauseous," I managed to answer, my hand covering my mouth, just in case. I didn’t trust myself to hold it down any longer.

Cleo, who had been standing off to the side, stepped forward, her arms crossed over her chest. "She probably needs food. It’s been like two days..or what?" she said, her voice tinged with practicality.

"Yeah, the baby’s probably hungry too," Pope added, offering a casual shrug, as if it was just an obvious conclusion.

I froze, my stomach twisting. The mention of "the baby" caught me off guard, and suddenly, all eyes turned to me. Rafe, who had been hanging back, still distant, looked like he was suddenly paying attention. His gaze shifted from me to Pope and then back to me, his brow furrowing.

"What baby?" Rafe asked, his voice sharp, as if something about the situation didn't sit right with him.

Oh god, here we go.

Pope went silent, and I could feel the tension rise in the air, thickening around us. I glanced up at Rafe, who was now standing a few feet away, looking at me with an expression that was hard to read. His eyes narrowed as if trying to make sense of what he had just heard.

"No, seriously, what baby?" he repeated, his voice insistent, even stern now.

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of the moment settle over me. There was no easy way to say it, but it had to be said. "I’m pregnant, Rafe," I said quietly, locking eyes with him. "With your baby."

The words hung in the air between us, like they were too heavy to carry. For a long moment, Rafe didn’t say anything. He just stood there, silent, his expression unreadable. The others were watching him closely, waiting for a reaction, but he remained eerily still.

I could feel the tension growing, an awkwardness settling in the space around us, as if everything had just shifted. My hands were shaking slightly, not from the nausea anymore, but from the weight of what had just been revealed. And Rafe, he was just staring at me, his mouth slightly parted but no words coming out.

"Go get her something to eat," Rafe suddenly snapped, his voice cutting through the tension that still hung thick in the air.

Without another word, he dug through his small waist bag, the leather creaking under his movements. I wasn’t sure what he was looking for, but then, with a small grunt of satisfaction, he pulled out a wad of cash—several bills, all stacked neatly together. As he unfolded them, I saw that he had about $400 in his hand, a small fortune for street vendors in Essaouira.

"Wait what?" JJ’s voice broke the moment of disbelief. He raised an eyebrow and shook his head. "They don’t take dollars, you idiot—"

"I said go," Rafe interrupted sharply, his tone hardening. There was no room for argument, no sign of hesitation in his voice. It was almost as if he was trying to regain some control over the situation, and in doing so, he completely dismissed JJ’s protests. His words were a command, not a suggestion.

The rest of us exchanged uneasy glances, the shift in Rafe’s demeanor catching everyone off guard. But without further discussion, John B, Sarah, Cleo, Pope, and Kiara reluctantly turned to start walking back toward the market, their steps unsure but obedient. JJ hesitated for a moment, clearly frustrated by Rafe’s abruptness, but eventually followed along as well.

Rafe’s eyes lingered on me for a second, his expression unreadable. He stood still for a moment longer, his gaze momentarily drifting over to the group before returning to me. He didn’t say anything else. His words had been clear, and I could tell that something about the situation had shifted for him.

"I don’t care whether you want the baby or not, but I’m keeping them," I said, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. My heart pounded in my chest, the weight of my decision pressing down on me. The truth was, I had made up my mind. I had to keep the baby, and nothing anyone said or did would change that. Not even Rafe.

Rafe’s eyes widened at my declaration, and for a moment, he just stood there, staring at me, his face unreadable. Then, he kneeled down, and he let out a sharp breath. "Hey, hey, hey—who said I don’t want to keep the baby?" His voice was calm, but there was an underlying tension to it, as if my words had hit a nerve.

I blinked, caught off guard by his response. The words seemed to hang in the air for a moment, and I wasn’t sure what to say next. His eyes were fixed on me now, intense, searching. It felt like something was shifting between us, and I couldn’t quite wrap my head around it.

"We’ll take care of them," Rafe continued, his tone softening just a fraction. "I’ll be with you throughout the whole journey, Y/N. You’re not doing this alone." His voice held a kind of resolve, as if he had already decided, as if he was offering something that felt almost too good to be true.

For a split second, it felt like the world around me had stopped moving. The noise from the market faded into the background, and all I could hear was the steady beat of my own heart. The words he said felt surreal, like they were echoing in my head. "I’ll be with you, 'aight?"

I blinked again, almost feeling like I was in a dream, like I had slipped into some alternate reality where everything suddenly made sense. But when I looked at Rafe, his gaze never wavering from mine, I felt a wave of disbelief wash over me. It felt like a nap dream, a momentary illusion that would disappear when I woke up.

"What?" I said, my voice coming out in a whisper of disbelief. "Sorry—"

Rafe seemed unbothered by my shock. He placed his hands on my knees, his movements deliberate. "You heard me, Y/N." His words were firm, and there was no mistaking the sincerity in them.

For a long moment, neither of us spoke. The air between us was thick with unspoken thoughts, and I could feel the weight of what he had just said settle in my chest. It was almost too much to process. I had always expected Rafe to pull away, to make this harder for me. But here he was, standing before me with something I hadn’t expected, a promise. A promise to be there. A promise to face this together.

My mind spun, trying to make sense of it. I glanced away for a moment, as if hoping the world would shift and reveal the truth. But when I looked back at him, his expression hadn’t changed. He was still looking at me with those steady, unwavering eyes.

"You’re serious," I murmured more to myself than to him.

Rafe didn’t flinch. "Yeah," he said simply, as if there was nothing more to discuss, as if the decision had already been made. "I’ll be there for you. For us."

For the first time, I didn’t know what to say. My heart was still racing, but for a different reason now. There was a part of me that wanted to believe him, to hold on to this moment, to trust that things might actually be okay. But there was also a part of me that was terrified of what this all meant, of how my life was about to change in ways I couldn’t predict.

I stared at him in utter disbelief, barely able to process the reality unfolding before me. It felt like some kind of miracle. My vision began to blur as tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, the emotions welling up and spilling over, probably caused by the pregnancy hormones, but I couldn’t stop them. I tried to blink them away, but they only gathered faster, until a warm tear rolled down my cheek.

Rafe’s expression softened when he noticed, his gaze never leaving mine. He reached out and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me close in a way that felt so natural, so steady. He didn’t hesitate for a second, and his embrace was warm, reassuring, holding me together when I felt like I was on the edge of falling apart, and God, it felt good to be back in his arms.

His hand rubbed gentle circles on my back as he murmured, “We’re gonna be parents.” His voice was soft, filled with awe and disbelief, as if he was speaking the words for the first time and couldn’t quite believe them either.

I nodded against his chest, clutching onto him as tightly as I could. The weight of his words settled over us, the reality of what lay ahead, and as much as I wanted to be brave, I couldn’t shake the fear that started to consume my mind. I let out a shaky breath, my voice coming out in a whisper, “I’m scared, Rafe.” The words felt small, vulnerable, but they were the truth.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, his hands gently cupping my face as his thumbs brushed away the stray tears still slipping down my cheeks. “I know,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I am scared too.” There was a flicker of vulnerability in his eyes that mirrored my own, a glimmer of uncertainty about the unknown future that lay ahead.

“But we’re in this together,” he continued, his voice growing stronger, as if he was convincing himself as much as he was reassuring me. “I don’t have all the answers, and I don’t know what’s coming… but I’m not going anywhere.” He leaned down and rested his forehead against mine, closing the space between us. “I’ll be there every step of the way.”

His words washed over me, filling some hollow place I hadn’t realized was empty. In that moment, his presence felt like a lifeline, pulling me out of my fears, giving me a glimpse of something that felt almost like hope. The future was terrifying, yes, but it felt a little less daunting with him by my side.

I looked up at him, my voice steadying as I replied, “I’m glad it’s you.” And as I said the words, I realized just how much I meant them.

He offered me a small, crooked smile, a warmth in his eyes that I hadn’t seen before. “We’re gonna figure this out together,” he promised. “One step at a time.”

I nodded, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. And in that moment, held in his arms, I felt a little less afraid.

Suddenly, as if on cue, the rest of the group appeared, each carrying an assortment of food and drinks. It was almost comical, watching them return all at once, each of them holding something different, John B with a handful of pita bread, Cleo balancing a bowl of yogurt, JJ carrying bottled water, and Sarah clutching a small bag of fruit, including a shiny red apple that she immediately extended toward me.

“Here,” Sarah said softly, her face easing with relief as she offered the apple. I took it gratefully, feeling the cool skin of the fruit in my hand, and took a tentative bite. The crisp, sweet flavor flooded my senses, soothing the nausea that had been twisting in my stomach. They watched with eager anticipation, and as they saw me begin to nibble, their worried expressions started to relax.

“Feeling better now?” Pope asked, his voice gentle but laced with concern as he studied my face.

I swallowed another bite and nodded, a smile creeping onto my face. “Yeah, yeah… thank you,” I replied, glancing at each of them.

They exchanged glances, visibly relieved, and a sense of warmth spread through me as I looked around at their familiar faces, each one showing their own brand of care. I realized then just how much I’d come to rely on them, not just as friends, but as family. I felt a comforting wave of gratitude for each of them, knowing they’d been there for me without question, supporting me in ways I hadn’t even thought possible.

As I took another sip of water, Rafe moved a little closer to me, his hand resting gently on my thigh. His touch was subtle, but the gesture was enough to let me know he was still there, holding his promise to stay by my side. There was something calming in his presence now, something steadying that I hadn’t noticed before.

The others began chatting among themselves, sharing their own stories of haggling with the vendors, laughing about who’d paid the most for what they’d brought. They were giving Rafe and me a moment, I realized, a chance to talk without the pogues’ attention fixed on us.

Rafe leaned down slightly, his face level with mine, his voice low and steady. “You really okay?” he asked, his hand still warm on my thigh.

I took a deep breath, the initial dizziness and nausea fading, leaving behind a feeling of clarity I hadn’t expected. “Yeah, I think so." I paused, looking up into his eyes.

He smiled, a soft, almost vulnerable expression, and for a moment, he seemed like a different Rafe—one who wasn’t weighed down by pride or bravado. “That's good” His voice was filled with a sincerity that softened something inside me. "Don't want our little one and her mommy to starve, do we?" He smiled making me let out a low chuckle.

In this quiet moment, I knew, deep down, that I wouldn’t want anyone else to be the father of my child. Everything just felt right. Despite all the chaos, the ups and downs, there was a steady comfort in knowing me and Rafe would face it together.

likes and reblogs are appreciated! 🐇

>゜))彡 taglist — @rafecamerons-national-anthem @ts1mp0ne @vheavxly @enjoymyloves @tv-girllover07 @husherstan @smthabsolutelyunhinged @multisection @onlyrealjoy @hoelesslyt @nina357

[schrodingerscougar]

Note: Wow, the roommate!Simon story blew up. Anyway, here's part 2.

Following his conversation with Johnny, Simon begins to think. He begins to consider the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he’s developing feelings for you. Why else would he be so protective and mad when the sergeant talks this way about you? The thought scares him at first.

For one, being near him is a death sentence, he saw that with his family. He can’t even imagine surviving losing someone he loved again. Then there is another thing, the fact he isn’t sure you would return his feelings. If you didn’t, as he suspects, living with you would be torture, and he’s honestly too lazy to look for a new place to stay.

The next time he arrives home in the middle of the day, the apartment is empty since you’re at your workplace most probably. Not seeing your face brighten at the sight of him makes his heart ache, but he knows you’ll be home in two or three hours, so he can most certainly survive that by lying down to catch up on sleep. He leaves a post-it for you on the small table next to the front door where you always put your keys, warning you that he’s back home.

He’s woken by the smell of fresh coffee and something sweet. When he checks the clock on his bedside, he notices it’s past seven, which means he slept a good four hours without interruptions. The new record of the past weeks as the most he slept peacefully was two hours tops. He climbs out of bed and goes to the living room, surprised to see you in the kitchen, humming a song to yourself as you admire the neatly cut brownies on the kitchen island.

“You’re awake!” you exclaim happily, quickly pressing a button on the coffee machine to make him some coffee too, then pick up an empty plate and put a slice of brownie on it. “Welcome home. Here, try this. I thought you might use some homemade things after being away for so long.”

That damn smile of yours. It’s wide, happy, and it easily warms his heart and makes him smile too. Your good mood is infectious and he finds himself stuffing the cookie into his mouth as he stands next to you, nudging your side with his hip playfully. “It’s perfect, thank you,” he says while chewing, earning a roll of your eyes. You hate it when someone talks with their mouth full, so he quickly swallows the remains and goes, “Sorry.”

You shake your head with a laugh then turn away to get his coffee. Simon can’t help but wonder if this is how things would always be if you were his wife, if you would be this kind and caring all the time. He certainly could get used to this. He wouldn’t believe he deserves all the love, but he would definitely enjoy your attention.

“What got you thinking so hard?”

Simon lets out a questioning hum before realizing he zoned out for a while. “You,” he replies honestly.

“Me?”

“Mm-hmm.” Before you could ask more questions, he moves in front of you, trapping you between the kitchen island and his body as he leans down to you. “I had an interesting conversation with someone and it got me thinking while I was gone,” he says with his lips moving so close he almost kisses you. “Do you have any idea how much I miss you when I’m deployed? How many times do I wonder what you’re doing while I’m away?”

It’s easy to tell, especially from this close, that your heart is racing and your breath is caught in your throat as you watch him. Your eyes are moving back and forth between his lips and his eyes, unable to decide what to focus on. You’re both under a spell that he doesn’t want to break, in fact he wants this moment to last forever, this anticipation before he finally makes up his mind to kiss you. He wants to do it, but he can’t help but think about whether or not you would be against it.

Maybe he thinks too much, maybe his brain is too focused on the negative thoughts, and before he knows it, you move your head to capture his lips with yours in a slow and sensual kiss. Simon is aware that he has issues. He understands that his brain is only on high alert because deep down he doesn’t believe he deserves your attention. After all, he’s not a good man. Well, not always. He does his job like a good little soldier, but the lines are blurry between good and bad.

He knows that you know this too. Shortly after he moved in and found out what he did for a living, you had a lot of questions, many that he simply wasn’t allowed to answer. But you probably sensed that he was keeping things to himself, certain aspects of this position that civilians would never understand. He didn’t want to scare you away, he didn’t want you to throw him out, so he kept his mouth shut. You knew that and never pried for more information.

When your nails dig into the skin on his back in a desperate attempt to pull him closer, Simon finally returns to the moment, returning your delicious kiss while his hands grab your ass and help you on the counter behind you. His lips trail from your lips to the shell of your ear, whispering praises until he feels your hands moving to his belt.

As much as he wants that, he knows he has to stop you. So he reaches down to grab your hands, pulling them away and lacing his fingers with yours as he kisses the tip of your nose. “Not yet, love. Let’s go on a proper date first, yeah?” he asks you with a small smile.

You whine, then you beg for more, asking him why you have to go on a date when you've been living together for over a year now. He tells you that the reason is simple; he spent a bigger part of it away from home so you have to get to know each other.

“I know you, Simon,” you push on, your fingers tracing the tattoos on his forearm as you speak. When you see the determination in his eyes, you finally let out a sigh of defeat and say, “Okay, fine. Let's go on a date first. But don't even think about something fancy. Let's keep it simple.”

With a short laugh, he leans down to give you a quick kiss. “Understood.”

Later in the evening, way past eleven, the two of you finally say goodnight and he returns to his room. There's a message waiting on his phone, one that came from Johnny. “I’ll send her a DM if you won't introduce me,” it says.

“Better not. She's taken,” he replies.

[evnseokz]

hii, hope you're doing well!

i'm thinking... bf!jungwon asks to record the sounds while doing sex and his gf decides to surprise him by asking him to cum inside

my first ever ask!! thank you so much for sending 🫶 hopefully i did this suggestion justice ^_^

pairing: bf! jungwon x f. reader

contents: p in v, unprotected sex (do nawt be like them), recording of moans/sex, pet names: baby, babe, kissing, nipple play

w.c. 640

his cock was nestled deep inside you, stretching you out so well. his thrusts were slow and deep, his tip kissing your cervix. your hands gripping his biceps as hard as you could, moans spilling from your lips.

jungwon was obsessed with the way you sounded, your moans being like music to his ears. an idea popped into his head. “baby, can i record your moans please?” he asked suddenly. your eyes which were closed previously, shot open, blush creeping onto your cheeks. “w-what?” you ask, slightly embarrassed at the question. “it’ll be for my ears only babe i swear, just for when i’m away and need to hear you.” he replied sensing hesitancy in your voice. you chewed on your lip as you racked your brain for an answer. finally you nod, jungwon not wasting another second to lean over to grab his phone off the nightstand and hit record. he set the phone down next to your body and focused his attention back to you and only you.

he continued his thrusts into you, light whimpers still falling from your lips, but now hyper aware of the phone recording you, you seemed to be holding back. “c’mon baby let me hear you” jungwon pouted. jungwon picked up his pace without warning, thrusting into you with speed, thus causing loud moans to fall from your mouth. jungwon smiled in satisfaction as he brought his hand down to your heat, and started rubbing circles on your clit. you cry out, the combination of him filling you up so well with his cock and the attention to your clit being all too much. jungwon smirked to himself, feeling you clench around his cock, he groaned slightly.

he can tell you’re close, his thrusts never slow and he leans down to capture you in a kiss. “feels s’good won” you mumble against his lips, he breaks away, and peppers kisses down your neck and to your chest. he brings his mouth down to your nipples, swirling and sucking on the sensitive nubs. the extra sensation sending waves of pleasure through your body, your orgasm ripping through you as jungwon continues to thrust in and out of you, seemingly chasing his own high. “w-where do you want me? i’m c-close” he stutters slightly. you contemplate in your head for a moment. “baby hurry and answer i can’t last much longer” he whines.

you wrap your legs around his waist trapping him in place as he continues to thrust inside you. you can tell he’s holding himself back from cumming, and you giggle slightly at his frustration. “baby it’s not f-funny” his head hangs as his balls begin to tighten. “i’m serious where do you want me” he says again. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him down to be face to face with you, “inside” you say simply. you bite your lip, starting to feel overstimulated from his thrusts. shock is written all over jungwons face, “a-are you su-“ “yes.” you cut him off before he can even finish his question. you smash your lips into his, clenching around him slightly as you feel a second orgasm bubbling up in your stomach. he moans loudly, his hips stuttering and his thrusts becoming sloppy, emptying his seed into your cunt. your second orgasm follows shortly after, milking him for everything he has.

he reaches to his phone, pressing end recording and then he collapses on top of you, you shrieking slightly at the sudden weight on your body. “wonnn you’re heavy” you whine. he slowly lifts himself up, looking you in your face, “sorry baby, you were just too good” he smiled before dropping down to pepper your face with kisses. you giggle, managing to capture his lips into yours for a quick kiss. he pulls away, “i love you so much” he says, “i love you so much my wonie.”

[arvandus]

Gojo had never intended to make you cry.  Sure, he teased you.  Maybe a little bit too much.  But he never wanted to actually hurt you.  He was a cocky ass, but he wasn’t an asshole.

That’s what he wanted to tell himself anyway, even as your wide eyes brimmed with tears that clung to your lashes.  It felt like a punch to the gut when the first tear fell.

Without even thinking, his hand came up to gently cup your cheek.  “Don’t...” he whispered.  His thumb swiped away at the wet track.  “Don’t cry.”

But it was too late; more tears fell, leaving wet lines in their wake, the droplets clinging to your chin. He hated the sight of them; hated the way they documented his failure, a sentence of guilt written in watercolor against skin he’d admired with every sideways glance.

He wanted to make them disappear, to extinguish them and replace them with warmth.  To take your trembling lips and make them smile again.  Gojo cradled your face in both of his hands, his large, calloused thumbs wiping away at your tears.  You closed your eyes, caught up in the way your heart twisted in your chest at the warmth of his touch.

You felt his forehead touch yours, his soft hair cushioned between you.  “I’m sorry...” he whispered. “I didn’t mean...”

Gojo’s words died on his lips as he felt more fresh, hot tears catch on his thumbs, heard you sniffle and try to hide the soft sob that wanted to unfurl from within your chest. 

His air left his lungs, a slow panic building at the possibility that maybe, this time, a sorry wouldn’t be enough. That maybe, this time, there was no such thing as forgiveness, and that he’d never again get to see you smile at him.

“I’m sorry...” he repeated, as his lips pressed gently against your forehead.  You froze beneath his affection, stunned.

He didn’t stop there.  His lips traveled lower, brushing against your wet lashes, against your cheeks, each time echoing his apology in earnest supplication.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

Finally, he came to your still-trembling lips, the soft flesh wet where you’d licked with your tongue, although whether it was in anticipation of his lips or to taste your own tears, he wasn’t sure.  Gojo hesitated, for just the slightest fraction of a moment, waiting...

And then you gave it to him, the sign he was looking for. The ever so subtle tilt of your chin, the flutter of lashes as you peaked at him through the dew drops in hope.

His lips met yours, soft and gentle, your face still gently cupped in his hands. You finally responded, returning the kiss with your hands wrapping around his neck, your fingers curling into his hair at the nape of his neck.

Gojo pulled away just enough to be able to speak, his lips barely brushing yours.  Your eyes were open now, staring into his, and for a moment the universe consisted of just the two of you, two celestial bodies drawn together by the gravity of your hearts.

“Does this mean I’m forgiven...?” he whispered.

“No.” you replied with a grin.

[jinkicake]

Spring Is In The Air~

Something happens to them when the seasons change. 

Itto, Tighnari, Yae Miko, Zhongli x Reader

A/N: I wrote this like two months ago and never posted it... I’ve always wanted to try writing something like this so here is my pathetic attempt! It’s corny BUT, smutty!!! :-)

WC - 2,224

NSFWWWW // SMUTTYYY

~~~

ITTO

Itto is not subtle. Try as he might, the poor oni cannot learn the art of subtlety. His reactions always give him away to you within seconds. 

His struggle can currently be seen in the way he braces himself against the counter but still attempts to stand up straight to play it off. 

“Hey,” He sounds breathless, almost as if it is hard for him to breathe. You know he’s going to break any moment now, you can see it as his chest begins to rapidly rise and fall. His breathing quickens and all you can do is stare at his expanding chest. “I need you.”

Itto breaks every spring and putting him back together is your favorite part.

“Fuck me, fuck me!” Itto groans loudly and the sounds, one after another, fly off of the walls. He’s absolutely losing himself as you bounce on his lap, up and down while your thighs pound against his own. The pace is fast, quick, and your knees are not able to handle it alone. It’s entirely him, Itto uses the strength in his muscular arms to toss you around on his lap. His tongue hangs out of his mouth, eyes squeezed together shut all while both of your hands are wrapped around his throat. “Yes, yes, yes,” It’s almost pathetic, the way he is singing your praise and grinds down onto the mattress. He can’t get enough of the feeling, of it all. 

Itto is loud in everything that he does and he never shies away from expressing his desires. 

“I’m gonna cum so fucking hard,” He sounds entirely desperate, almost as if he is about to break into tears. You squeeze your thighs together and watch his every reaction as you clamp around him. His reaction is almost imminent. Itto’s hands on your waist squeeze you tightly as his bare nails dig into your skin as he cums with a drawn-out groan. The oni chases his high without stopping, still wildly thrusting up into you just as before. His pace then grows slower, impossibly slow as he slams into you a handful of times. There’s something final about this but, you know better. 

This is just the beginning. It takes hours to satisfy Itto, especially during the spring. 

You don’t even have the chance to catch your breath before you feel him twitching inside of you again, now hard as ever. His fast recovery is almost as quick as his reflexes. Itto pulls you off of him within a flash before mounting you from behind. 

“I’m sorry, just one more, one more, okay?” You can hear how his voice shakes in your ear but, you don’t have the chance to reply as he effortlessly slides back into you. In this position, you can hear everything, every puff of air that escapes his lips and every whimper that falls. Itto cries into your ear, tongue lapping at the surface as he moves his hips at a quick pace. “You’re fucking me so good,” 

You can almost feel him in your fucking stomach as you clamp around him but, his brutal strides feel so good. Each thrust against your bottom sends you flying and you end up face-first in the duvet. Itto keeps you still with a firm hand on your hip but, you can imagine how broken his expression must be as he groans above you. 

“One more time, one more time,”

((It’s never just one time with him.))

TIGHNARI

“(Y/N), please,” 

Hearing the forest ranger beg is something you are not used to. Tighnari never begs or yearns for your touch and attention. If he wants something, he takes it with little hesitation. 

Except when the seasons begin to change. 

When the air grows colder, something primal shifts in Tighnari. You can see it in the way his eyes soften into pools of need and how he becomes much more sensitive to the slightest touch. If you even think about touching his fingers, over his gloves, he will drop whatever is in his hands. 

Tighnari becomes reactive all over. 

“It’s happening again.” He murmurs into your ear as he presses up against your side. His tail wraps around your thigh, squeezing over and over again as he ruts into your leg. “I need you.” When Tighnari gets like this, you know it’s best to just let him take. 

“You poor thing,” Your voice is full of sympathy, perhaps a bit condescending, and it makes the forest ranger whimper. His ears flatten against the top of his head as his eyes squeeze shut in concentration. Your quiet sighs and hums only make him more delirious, Tighnari burrows his face into the crook of your neck and simply inhales. His breathing gets heavier as his messy thrusts become erratic. If he had not been holding onto you so tightly, you’re sure you would have fallen to the floor by now. 

He cums with a gasp, one that sucks the air from his lungs, and he tries to hide it by biting on your shoulder. Tighnari grits his teeth against your skin as little whimpers leave his lips, his tail rapidly thumping against your leg. His weight becomes too much and you both sink to the floor under his passion. 

That first orgasm meant nothing to him, it’s merely a warm-up. 

Tighnari can’t even bring himself to guide you to your shared bedroom, he takes you on the floor. 

He can’t help the way that he spreads your thighs and licks, running his tongue along your slit. The poor man devours it all, spitting and lapping up at whatever he can reach. His harsh sucks make you shiver and squirm but, you can’t move under the tight grip he has on your waist. 

“Ah,” Whatever Tighnari planned to say is muffled by your cunt as he shoves his tongue inside of you. He thrusts the muscle as far as he can go, ears flattened in concentration while his nose grinds against your clit. It’s as if he has become utterly consumed by you, everything about you because all he can focus on is getting his tongue in you as deep as possible. 

But then, he suddenly pulls himself off of you as if it hurts to touch you.

In the blink of an eye, Tighnari is above you, staring down while his legs get situated between your own. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry but, I need it,” His breathing has become erratic, eyes almost feral as he begins to heavily salivate. With his primal urges brought to the surface, you know you won’t be able to leave this position and similar ones for a few days. “I have to- I have to fuck you.” 

YAE MIKO

With the amount of time you’ve spent beside Yae Miko, you know her exceptionally well. 

You know when something begins to shift within her, almost as if it is in the air. It’s seen in the way the other shrine maidens keep their distance and in the way Miko’s fingers dance along your skin as she grabs you at any possible opportunity. She makes sure that she’s touching your bare skin, her pink nails nearly breaking it as she stands behind you. 

“I require your assistance, pet,” Her breathy voice always confirms it for you and is the tell-tale sign of when her primal urges begin to show. She drags you by your wrist to a lone room, one decorated exceptionally well with everything you could need to last for weeks. Your lover’s touch grows lighter.

“You know what I need from you.” Yae Miko stares down at you as if she is truly looking down on you, her eyes hold little interest but you know better. You can see how her finger is nearly starting to tremble and how her lips have begun to part. “Come here,” She doesn’t even have to lift a finger for you to stand in front of her, within her grasp. 

Her lips are on you without another second to spare. Immediately, it’s all tongue. She parts your lips with tight squeezes of your sides before her hands move to paw at your breasts. While letting her tongue run over your own, shoving the muscle as far down your throat as she can, she towers above you. Her moans are low and entirely full of pleasure. 

You have a belief that her urges bring out something in you, something similar because you can’t help but want to be used by her every season. 

With heavy hands, Miko pushes you to the ground forcefully on your back. She slowly lowers to her knees, watching you carefully as you pathetically stare up at her. Your lips are still part and slightly swollen because of her previous ministrations. It makes her heart stop as desire stirs in the pit of her stomach. 

She spreads your legs with her slim hands and hooks one of your thighs over her own. Your underwear is discarded in seconds by her nails and her shorts are magically on another side of the room. 

Yae Miko’s lips turn slightly upwards, almost in a mischievous grin as she presses your leg to your chest and sits on top of you. She’s hot, the touch of her skin nearly makes your eyes roll to the back of your head. An immediate roll of her hips makes you moan loudly, the feeling of her sopping cunt against your own renders you speechless. 

“How funny,” She coos but, struggles to hide back her own shakey exhales. Desire takes the forefront of her brain and all she can think about is satisfying the demanding urge in the pit of her stomach. Over and over, she presses her clit against your own and rubs at the sensitive area while roughly thrusting her hips. This is only the beginning, you’re too aware of it. 

With the way Miko is squeezing your breasts and pinching your nipple, you can’t help but anticipate the rest of her plans with you. 

ZHONGLI

After spending lifetimes with Zhongli, you still end up winded when the seasons change. 

Your husband is a dutiful man and always gives you a fair warning, a notice before something ever happens with his body. However, sometimes a warning is not nearly enough. 

It’s been days since his insides have turned into a molten heat and Zhongli has not been shy about tackling this issue with you. You’re always so good to him, let him do whatever he desires just to satisfy the annoying urges. 

Day after day, he can’t help but grow stronger about his affections. He’s a selfish man and he desperately needs more. 

“Oh, you’re-” The words can’t even leave his lips as his head tilts back, a loud moan leaves his lips. Zhongli grits his teeth painfully, grinding them down as his hand tightens in your hair. He’s not being careful and neither are you. You continue to choke on him, around him, as your spit coats his entire cock. The cool sensation makes your husband’s thighs twitch as he grunts at the feeling spreading between his legs. 

You feel incredibly lucky that his primal form has yet to take over, perhaps it won’t even show this time around. It would be nearly impossible to satisfy him with another appendage hanging between his thighs. But, the thought still makes you moan wantingly. 

“My love-” Zhongli finds it hard to speak, his balls painfully tight and it only gets worse when he sees your hand hidden between your thighs. He focuses on your fingers moving against your clit and his eyes nearly turn into slits as he focuses on the image. The realization that this brings you as much pleasure as it does him causes a guttural groan to leave his chest. “Come here,”

His voice changes, it becomes much deeper, much more commanding. Zhongli doesn’t wait for you, he roughly pulls you up to your feet before pulling you into his lap. The way he manhandles you, forcing you to sit back on his face makes your entire being light up with need. 

“Morax!” You screech as your hands press into his abdomen, his tongue doesn’t waste a second now that you’re on him. The archon presses his tongue into your cunt, thrusting in and out before running the muscle over your clit. The stimulation makes it hard to focus but, you still reach for his heavy cock. 

You grip him tightly and lick at his slit, tongue digging into the area as you hum at the taste. Zhongli’s grip on your thighs becomes stronger and he fights back with his sharp nails digging into your skin. Had you been any more focused, you would have thought he had grown claws.

Your cunt pulses around his tongue and all Zhongli can do is continue to shove the muscle inside of you. He doesn’t shy away from rubbing against your walls, no, he has his own agenda. It’s almost sick how he coaxes you to gush around him, all so he can swallow it greedily to satisfy some gut-clenching demand. 

But, he can’t help it, he also can’t help how his skin begins to turn and scales spread across his arms. He can’t help but connect with his primal side when you satisfy the very deepest desires that he has. 

[sturniolosangel]

daddy’s home

warnings: daddy kink (i’m sorry in advance), lowkey breeding kink, making out, hickeys, choking, back shots, lowkey porn without plot, unprotected sex (plz wrap it before u tap it🙏), not proofread as always

a/n: kinktober day 4! sorry for putting these out late! i’ve been piled up with school work because i had covid👎🏻 so i will post the 4ths, the 5ths, and the 6ths today! so please bare with me and enjoy! as always i🤍u

summary: chris is finally back from tour and the first place he goes is readers.

i woke up as i heard a knock on the door. i stood up to go see who was there as i opened the door i was met with my boyfriend who i haven’t seen in weeks. “daddy’s home” he spoke softly. i just onto him as i wrapped my legs around his waist bringing him in for a hug. “you have no idea have much i’ve missed you” i whispered against his shoulder.

i pull my face away as i grabbed his face and connected our lips. he walked through the door making sure im still on him as he shut it and walked into my bedroom. he gently laid me down on the bed as he looked down on me. “can’t believe i haven’t kissed you in weeks” he said smiling. “i can’t believe you’re here” i spoke looking up at him.

he reconnected our lips slowly moving down my neck putting his lips together to created hickeys. my head rolled back to give him more access “you haven’t seen me in weeks and you’re still a good girl” he mumbled in my neck. his hand came up to my boobs slightly kneading as his other hand slipped under my shirt to pull it off.

i lifted my hands up as the shirt flew on the floor his mouth flew to my bare chests. “chris…” i gasped out. his tongue swirled around my nipples as his hands reached to pull my pajama pants down.

“no foreplay today baby just wanna feel you” he explained as he started to take of his clothes. i watched him as i could tell i was getting wetter by the second i feel like i forgot how hot he looks.

he spit on his hand as he rubbed in it on his dick to make it wet. he flipped me over so now i was face down ass up. his thumb went to my clit and rubbed little circles as he aligned himself with me. he slowly pushed his dick into me as my back arch down and i moaned out.

his hips slammed into mine as he took a hand full of my hair and gripped “taking daddy so good baby” he groaned out. “fuck chris!” i pushed my arm back so i could touch him. his fingers interlocked with mine as he connected to pound into me.

he dropped my head as he took his hand and smacked my ass than rubbing it smoothly. “fuck baby.. always making me feel amazing” his head rolling back. only skin slapping and moans were echoing through the room.

he flipped me over so i was now on my stomach. he wrapped his hand around my throat as he spoke “who’s pussy is this?” “yours chris!” i almost yelled out. “wrong try again baby” he replied picking up his pace. “yours daddy! fuck.. it’s yours” i mumbled out. “good girl. wasn’t so hard was it” he slowed down is pace connecting our lips.

my eyes rolled back asi felt myself getting close. i looked at chris as his hips slammed into me his head was back and eyes were squeezed shut. my stomach tightened as i moaned out “daddy! i’m gonna cum”. “let go baby i’m gonna make you a mommy” he breathed out.

my legs started to shake and my breathing picked up as i came. chris hips still slamming his hips against mine as his white cum coating itself into me. “shit!” he groaned out. he steady his breath as he pulled and stuffing his finger to make sure every last bit was still in me as i whined out.

“let’s get you into a bath baby i know you’re tired” he spoke quietly. i nodded my head as he picked me up and taking me into the bathroom.

liked by fakechris, fakenick, fakejustincary and 3,731 others.

yn.spam: daddy’s home. @/ fakechris

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