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nanaslutt · 11 months

Note

have this idea stuck in my head for days

tojis obviously would be very opposed to the idea of subbing but hear me out, when you ride him and it just becomes too much, he would definitely let out little whimpers and be so embarrassed :((

I am SO into this.

Contains: fem reader, switch?reader & toji, dom!toji, nipple play, riding, backshots, soooo much dirty talk, daddy kink (i had to), lots of pet names for reader, pullout method used (shocker), praise, degradation, established relationship, toji is whipped for reader, face slapping, squirting, passing out during sex briefly (he stops)

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

Your thighs are burning from supporting the rapid pace of your bouncing. Chastizing your aching legs silently, calling them ungrateful in this current situation.

Toji never let you take control. He hardly let you even ride him, and when you did he he often set the pace for you by fucking his hips up into your cunt. Toji like the dominance he had over you, loved seeing you go drunk from his length alone. There was nothing inherently wrong with his preference. Sex always being very satisfying with him.

But could couldn't deny that there were times when you wanted to see his facad fall apart. Growing wetter at the idea of him submissive underneath you.

You tried proposing the idea to Toji, but he shot it down down faster than you could even finish getting it out your words.

"There is no way I'm gonna be your bitch, sorry sweetheart." He delivered the news to you shortly, ruffling your hair in the process.

You argued back, "Cmon Toji, 's not like I'm gonna fuck you with a strap or something." Pouting when his large palm finished messing up the hair atop your head.

Head turning to stare at you with lidded eyes, disbelief plastered on his face at the mention alone of you fucking his ass with a fake cock.

Arguing back and forth for a while before settling on a compromise you could get behind. "Jesus christ girl, if this is so important to you, ill let ya ride my me or somethin."

You smiled, triumph filling your body at his proposition, "but if you don't fuck me right, I'm taking over." He stated flatly, making you roll your eyes at his overconfident tone.

Bringing you back to the current situation. Toji's large frame was sprawled out on the matress beneath you, large cock snug in your cunt as you bounced up and down. The pace you set didnt even come close to his usual speed, but you were just getting started.

You were so determined to make him eat his words, and show him how good submitting even just a little, could feel.

Pausing your bouncing for a second, his rough voice cut through the hot air, "Already done?" he smirked, tone having i told you so, laced all throughout it.

You lean back, hands bracing right above Toji’s knees as you plant your feet on the bottom of his abs, resituating yourself.

just you wait old man.

You stayed silent, giving him a small smile as you started thrusting your hips against him, sliding his hard cock in and out of your walls.

The new angle made his breath hitch, your cunt feeling so much tighter in this position. Toji's tip was being forced up against your tummy when you fucked his cock into yourself.

Trying not to lose yourself at the feeling of him directly hitting your sweet spot, realigning your brain to focus on your goal.

He licked his lips, jaw opening slightly, groaning unabashedly at the feeling of you deliberately clenching your cunt around him.

"Feel good daddy?" you teased, confidence filling your voice when his eyes repeatedly rolled back in his head. The older man’s hips fighting the urge to fuck into up you, trying to respect his pretty girlfriend’s wishes for the time being.

"Sure does cute thing, makin' me feel so fucking good." Grabbing the entirety of your ankles in his palms, using them to ground himself.

You catch him off guard, leaning forward swiftly and hooking your feet on the insides of his thighs, grinding your hips deliciously against his pelvis, providing your clit with mouthwatering stimulation in the process as it bumped against his hard pelvis.

"Fuuuuuck," he grit his teeth at the arousal knotting under his abs, his cock being rubbed against your walls delectably, making him feel lightheaded.

You braced your hands on his pecs, scratching your nails over his stiff nipples intentionally.

His reaction even catching himself off guard as he fucking whimpered. Body jerking when you repeated the process a couple times. His big hand coming up to cover his mouth, face turning crimson under his fingers when you picked up your hips again, pulling out till the tip was just inside before slamming them down roughly.

"H-aah," He breathily moaned, "You like it when I play with ur nipples daddy?" you whined with a smile, fingers coming up to the pretty pink buds, rolling them between your fingers.

His hand pressing harder over his mouth doing little to conceal his whimpers. You never would have guessed he was so sensitive here, never letting your sly fingers get close enough to test it.

“Can feel you twitching inside m-me” you moan out, pace of your hips finally matching the one he’s used to.

Watching his eyes repeatedly roll back in his head while he tried his best to suppress the whines that threatened to fall from his lips, making your clit fucking throb.

Abandoning one of your hand toying with his nipples to grab at his wrist, pulling at the hand covering his mouth, “Toji ‘s okay, w-wanna hear you.”

He feels the tips of his ears heat up, embarrassed that you had to comfort him like this. Usually having to be the one to console you when you were struggling to adjust to his length. He didn’t appreciate this reverse in your respective roles.

Dropping his hand onto you thigh and gripping hard, making the veins in his hand pop, he looked away from your eyes, “S-shut up.” he groaned, lip tucked snugly under his teeth.

Not letting his words get to you, thoroughly aware he wasn’t used to letting himself feel like this, you spoke again, “Sounds ur makin are getting me so f-fucking wet.” you praised.

Veins popping in his forhead at this as now you sounded a little too much like him, “That’s enough of that,” he quickly flips you over, roles falling back into their rightful place as he started pounding his cock into your cunt from behind, pressing the weight of his hard body against your back.

“Think you can talk to me like i’m some submissive slut? huh?” he growled into the shell of your ear, tongue darting inside, licking around in your ear.

“Tojiiiiii,” you whined at his mean hips, disappointed he had cut off your fun. Still fairly happy with the progress you made in allowing him to get used to being more submissive around you if he wanted, but still missing the slightly more domineering position you held moments ago.

“Cant believe you made me embarrass myself in front of you like that.” thinking back to moments ago when you quite literally had him whimpering under the assault of your hips and sneaky fucking fingers.

“Gotta put you back in your place,” he whispered darkly into your ear.

“N-not fair,” you moaned in retaliation, voice getting cut short as he painfully forced his cock deep into your walls, kissing your cervix with the deep angle.

“I think you had your- fun” he emphasized the last word with a thrust, “want me to admit it felt good when you rode my dick, huh? thag what you want?” Deep voice moaning at the feeling of your cunt constricting his dick like you were trying to milk him for all he’s worth.

“Think it was pretty obvious when you made me fucking whimper.” he spat, biting down on your hear and pulling it between his teeth before letting it go.

Leaning his body up and taking a strong hold on your hips, gripping them hard enough to almost guarantee to leave nasty bruises.

Toji pulled you back on his dick, your fingers gripping into the sheets for dear life as he fucked you like he had a personal vendetta against you.

And right now he did.

“God this little pussy is sucking me in so good.” his scared mouth forms a grin feeling you gush around him.

“Toji ‘s too m-uch” wining at the stretch of him still. Trying and failing to warn him of how close you were.

He pulls your hips back against him harder, shutting you up. “Nahhh you can take it.” he replies.

“Fucking- take- it” fucking his words into your body with each thrust, massaging your walls expertly with his girth. Your cunt pulsing around him unexpectedly as your orgasm crashed over you suddenly.

Transfixed with the cum squirting out of your pussy while he fucked got through it, “Oh yesssss, squirt all over me baby,” he encouraged, helping the cum spray out of you by rubbing his fingers back and forth across your clit,

“Fuuuuuck, oh-my-god” your voice squealed through it as little spurts of your arousal kept dripping out around his length.

The sheets underneath your body were fucking soaked, not having time to feel bad about it before you black out, limbs collapsing limply against the sheets, losing consciousness and the intensity in which you just came.

“Ahhh shit, heh” toji giggled, stopping his thrusts and burring his cock deep inside you before he leaned over your body. He slapped your face with his rough fingers a couple times before your eyes rolled back into place in their sockets.

Gaps and whines finding your tongue when you came to, tears falling down your face at sheer intensity of your orgasm. “You okay sweetheart?” he asked, keeping himself still, buried to the hilt while he waited for your answer.

Giggling when you nodded, stupid head unable to form any coherent words. “Attagirl, thought I killed ya’ for a second, that woulda’ been a new one.” laughing at his sick joke, while he kissed the side of your face.

“Think ya can keep going?” he asked, concern peeking out through his words.

Hearing you whimper out a quiet “mhmm” next to his chiseled face, he got back into position, pushing your back down into a mean arch as he started his pace up again.

“So good to daddy baby, promise i’ll make it quick.” staring down at you with admiration in his eyes as he thrusts recklessly into your cunt.

Words being a lot more literal that he thought, as he was only a couple thrusts in and already started feeling his balls tighten. Feeling the cum traveling through his dick, getting ready to give his load to you.

“Nggghh, gotta stop suckin me in like that, makin me think you want me to fill you up.” he groaned when your overstimulated pussy tightened, protestesting at his cock’s incessant thrusting.

Mind barely registering his words but your sweet voice slurring out, “yessss gimmie ur babiesss, cum inside me tojiii” anyways.

“Dangerous words doll,” he laughed feeling his cock react strongly to your words, “Maybe another night tho, pretty head doesn’t seem screwed on just right, right now.” much to your dismay he was pulling out soon after.

Jerking his cock quickly, hot ropes of cum decorating your ass while he groaned into the air, moaning your name full of pleasure while he came down.

He tapped your ass a couple times, signaling you to relax, body immediately obeying as your arch dissipated, flattening against the bed on your stomach, groaning at how sore your pussy felt.

He collapsed down on the bed next to you, pulling your abused body onto his sweaty torso, cradling you in his arms.

Feeling toji softly kiss your head while he whispered praises into your ear, mind slowly drifting off into what would be the best night of sleep of your life.

When sex got rough with toji and you fell asleep right after, much like now, he always made sure to wipe you clean. Never failing to wake up under his soft sheets, sticky mess cleaned off your body, slick between your thighs gone without a trace like it was never there in the first place.

Toji might be a rough man, not great with words, appearing intimidating and gruff to most, but he loved you and you really felt it with the little things like this that he did for you.

Rhythm of his stroking lulling you into dreamland, waiting until your breaths to evened out before he spoke, “felt kinda good to be under yer mercy like that, kid.” mumbling his confession into your hair before he situated you into the sheets next to him, standing to gather the supplies to clean you up while you slept like a baby, completely oblivious to his words.

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queenimmadolla · 5 months

Note

Could you do a blurb where reader rolls a joint for Eddie for the first time with all her cute papers and stuff and he loves it?

Happy Stoner Christmas!

happy 4/20! 😶‍🌫️💚

“Well, if it isn’t for my favorite customer.”

You hear him before you see him, and sit up straighter as you look up, torso twisting around to face Eddie.

He’s walking through the tree line that acts as the ‘fence’ to your backyard. Not exactly born into wealth, your home is on the edge of Hawkins and lacks the white picket fence and concrete driveway, with nature and gravel filling in. Just down the street is Jonathan Byers’ home.

Confidence radiates off of Eddie as he approaches the picnic bench you were waiting on, his curls sway a little. He’s rocking a band shirt today—long sleeves rolled up his forearms—and some dark jeans. You try not to squirm under his stare, the wild grin on his face stirring something in your tummy.

You knew you’d end up crushing on him after the first time you went to him for weed instead of Rick. He was cute.

Eddie was so freaking cute and charming and funny. You probably would have been fine if he had just been cute and charming, but the humorous trait was your weakness. You loved funny guys.

Sure enough, by the fourth time he dealt to you—his tongue was in your mouth. And the fifth time, you’d gone to third base. Now, whatever happened when he came around just happened. You accepted it, even if it makes you a little nervous because you know very well you’re interested in more than just the benefits that come with your encounters.

You want him. Like, boyfriend him. It’s kind of tragic, actually, because you don’t even know if you’re the only one of his clientele he treats this way. Eddie can be fucking the rest of them for all you know and it drives you insane because you want to ask—you’re just too chicken shit.

“You say that as if this wasn’t prearranged.” You laugh out and Eddie snorts, dumping his black lunch pail on the leaf riddled bench top next to your scooby-doo lunch box with a metal clang.

“I’m trying to be cute and you’re ruining it.” When you laugh again, Eddie’s eyes squint in triumph, “And I’ll have you know I have been waiting—no, yearning for you to call upon me. Moved my bed over to the phone and everything. Thought you forgot allllllll about me.”

“Me forget about you? Impossible.” You declare in a joking manner, though you truly mean the sentiment. Your mental health might be better if you could forget him. Then you wouldn’t be able to make yourself sick over the idea of him kissing other people.

“You better mean that.” He jabs an accusatory finger, silver ring glinting, in your direction as he settles in across from you, “The usual, my sweet?”

UGH! SEE?! Too damn cute.

“Please?” You’re too busy opening up your own lunch box full of supplies to notice the heated look he fixes you with right then.

Eddie clears his throat, tongue darting out to swipe over his lower lip as he pops the lid of his lunch pail open, pulling out a little baggie with your favorite strain of buds. He eyes it with a glint in his eye before it’s held out to you, dangling from his fingertips.

You look up once you realize it’s being offered, and pinch the top of the baggie as your other hand holds out the folded bills. Eddie flicks them out of your loose grip, and it goes flying to land in your lap while you jump in surprise.

“My bad,” he snickers, his pretty teeth gleaming, “it’s on the house.”

You pick up exactly where he wants you to, “In that case, please accept my offer to smoke you out with my newly acquired goods.”

That feeling in your belly—butterflies—intensifies at the slow and large smile that spreads on his face, forcing his little dimple to make an appearance.

It always goes like this now.

Eddie comes over (or you go to him), weed is exchanged and when you try to pay him for it, he refuses. Then, you invite him to smoke weed with you (and he’ll always pull from the extra inventory he carries around—never from what he’s just given you), the two of you get high and you finally feel brave enough to make a move because you know he always waits for you to do it. Gives you the power to start things, your own comfort, though he takes full control once you get going. He’s always so keen on taking care of you. You’d once thought that maybe he didn’t want you as much as you wanted him, since it was always you initiating things, but the way he’d beg for you, ramble about how much he wanted you, how desperate he was for you and his ‘finally, I thought I was gonna die’s on just your kisses alone, soothed that insecurity.

“I’d be delighted to! But─”

“Nope.” You interrupt, having seen his hand reaching into his pail. “My weed—not yours.”

He raises his eyebrows in surprise and when you don’t back down, both of his hands are lifted in surrender before one is extended to you out on the bench, palm up. Eddie’s waiting for you to give him your grinder and the weed so he can start rolling but you low five his palm instead and he chuckles, skin tingling from the contact.

“That’s not exactly what I meant.”

“I know, but I’m also rolling today, too.”

Eddie scoffs and smirks, fixing you with that heated stare again and you quickly divert your gaze, pulling out your pretty purple grinder and getting to work. You are not gonna let him make you nervous and fumble around, “Baby…”

Oh, god. The way he coos it out, nice and low—you’re instantly taken back to other times you’d heard him say it like that. You’d been bent into all kinds of positions as it was rasped into your ear, the sweat from both of your bodies plastering Eddie to you. Your hand twists the top of the grinder on autopilot as you stare at nothing, gaze vacant.

Eddie knows exactly where your mind has taken you and his smirk widens.

“You can’t roll for shit.”

That snaps you out of your stupor, mouth dropping.

“I can, too! You’ve never seen me put in the work.”

“I have, that’s why I roll.”

And you cringe as you recall the first time you’d try to roll a joint. It had been the second time Eddie sold to you, having only used pre-rolled cones prior. Those only meant you had to pack the wrap in with weed, kind of like a funnel and then twist the end closed before partaking.

Rolling from start to finish was a whole other endeavor and you’d failed so badly, Eddie had rolled around on the floor laughing. You didn’t take any offense, too busy jumping up and down inside at having made the cute, charming funny guy you liked laugh.

“I’ve been practicing,” You pout, placing the grinder down after you’re sure the nug of the bud you’d placed in it was now almost powder-like.

“You tryna impress me, hm?” He hums out, and you refuse to look up, knowing those pretty brown eyes of his are gonna be lidded and it’ll do you in early. You’ll have to jump him right there, “Been practicing to show me what you can do?”

You ignore him, focusing instead on the rolling papers you had.

Eddie places his chin in his hand, watching you intently as you frown in concentration before it breaks when you select a rolling paper, cherries decorating the white sheets. You pull your small rolling tray out and some part of Eddie throbs. You hadn’t had that before.

You quickly scrunch a filter together, folding the rolling paper and placing the filter at the edge of the fold before you unscrew the grinder and begin pinching the green within to sprinkle on the paper. Once it was full, and Eddie notices with wide eyes that you’ve packed it with a significant amount, you use dexterous fingers to carefully roll it together, tongue poking out as you take diligent care to ensure no fall out. Once the green flower is properly contained, you lick the free edge and fold it over the rest of the joint before you pinch and twist the end.

After a few moments of intense scrutiny, you hold it out victoriously, “Taduh!!! For you.”

Eddie takes the joint, turning it this way and that as he marvels. You really had been practicing, it was beautiful. He feels an intense amount of pride bloom in his chest and something else. Always for you, only ever for you.

“Did I do good?” You ask, voice shy as you bite your lip and this time you don’t look away when that heavy stare focuses on you. You wanna faint, but you don’t. He doesn’t say anything for a while and you know where tonight is gonna lead.

“Baby,” There’s that rasp again that makes you want to drop dead and smash your mouth to his at the same time, “I’m gonna need you to come over here now. Don’t think I can wait.”

#I got this request before i made the prompt post shhhhh #Queenimmadolla’s smokesesh #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson fanfic

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1800titz · 15 days

Text

DOG TEETH | ABO dynamics

alpha/omega au

(Always had an affinity for taking mutts home, you, even if they growled and bit.)

> alpha!Harry, omega!reader, dom/sub undertones, praise & degradation, p in v 8K on patreon

(You remember when he warned you; starting things you couldn’t finish. See it through—)

The sentiment you’ve cradled in the space between your collarbones seeps out in the way your fingers tangle into the wry bed of curls at the nape of his neck. The undomesticated (wild in your spuming bloodstream, riling every nerve ending to kindle in the fire— a twisted paradox) urge to be owned. Claimed. Mated. See it through—

He cradles your wet gasp against the flats of his teeth, the gap between. Your tongue slinks out, lashes fluttering, and you bask in the way he brushes his own against it.

It’s no jejune delicacy of a first kiss.

The tentative, eggshell-daintiness of brushing lips— no, it’s all tongue, teeth, sloppy, slick. Your head tipping back with the fingers he snares into the hair at the base of your skull, the fist he wrenches your crown back by. Spit smearing against the corner of your mouth. Humid aphrodisia that settles in the trench of your tummy when he grips you under your jaw, thumb and middle finger denting into the fleshy margins of your hot cheeks. He smears his tongue against yours again.

It’s this— possessive, hungering— a triumph you’ve been chasing from that prepubescent past time. Giving home, in longing, the pooling bliss of your mettle unspooling under the way he pants into your mouth.

(Nasty, nasty man— the kind you barely know, the kind you shouldn’t let suck on your tongue, never mind in the turbulent window of an incipient heat that’ll make your bones feel like they’re rotting in their sockets.)

“Yeah, that’s it,” you make out the crook of a smile in his words (lewd, coarse), liquified yearning, your eyes half-mast, “Filthy, little omega. Never imagined you’d be such a pretty whore.”

It’s vertiginous. Feral. Makes your world spin on its axis, because this exigency, swallowing you— need, need, need, fuck— is an all consuming rapture (when he sticks his fingers into your mouth— a bunched dyad, middle and forefinger— prying your head back with the heel of his palm still under your aching jaw).

“Sweet, little—“ you vaguely hear over the spindrift of blood in your ears— you don’t even recognize the wanton hum you grant him, tongue out— something that dies on his teeth, gets mottled by a growl (it stems from his chest, reverberates through the palm you still have on him, rocks your fizzing marrow).

There’s no gentle, callow dubiety (you don’t expect it from him, anyhow) when he pins you, limbs out, on the bed two steps from the front door. Your need— that same, unbroken longing that pulsates in your joints— spills a mist over the aftermath (clothes peeling away, your heart stuttering in its caging, you nipples between his teeth).

Up until the point where he nestles himself between your thighs, splayed, flat on his abdomen at the foot of the mattress.

You watch him with a lust-ridden hypervigilance. Like this, with your thighs split, you can smell yourself from the headboard. Your leaking slick. It makes you desperate, gets your face crinkling, forehead scored in ruckles as your hips cant up.

And Harry plants his hand onto your tummy, under your navel. A monstrous looking thing in sheer heft (cleaned as best as managed, knuckles bruised, split where aged scar tissue was battered back into gashing). The stark size of his hand against your soft underbelly— the way his thumb to his pinky, the shape, sits so perfectly between the verges of your pelvic bone, pressing you flat to the sheets— only makes you squirm more.

“Easy,” Harry purrs. Easy, girl— a luring croon in a dominion-rich tone that makes every atom in your body sing. If the fire rippling across your circuitry wasn’t drawing you into a delirium, surely you’d wear a frown at the smile over his mouth— the mocking.

Even still, you think, it’d falter at the way he ducks his chin to stipple kisses to your mons, the faint dusting of hair there, eyes flickering up. The electric charge in his soft-spoken echo (instruction, gentle), “Easy, baby.” The, “I’ll take care of you, sweetheart.” His thumb prying you open, eyes winding, that clots your lungs.

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writtenbymoonflower · 9 months

Text

Unpretty

You are insecure and Peter is oblivious. tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader

cw: reader had very negative thoughts about body image. mentions of weight and general body image issues. i tried to keep it as neutral as possible so everybody could read and relate, so it can be read as plus!size reader or not.

1.5k words

The position you were in wasn’t unnecessarily uncomfortable. The physical part felt really nice, actually. Peter was laid on his side, nose nuzzled into your hair while you were in his arms flat on your back. His even breathing was soothing and you felt close and warm.

Emotionally, however, you felt confused.

You had to resist cringing every time you remembered that Peter’s large hand was spread over the bottom of your tummy, likely feeling everything “wrong” about it. He could definitely feel it wasn’t as flat or firm as you would like it to be, even through your thick crewneck. And even though you logically knew it was impossible, you felt the stinging insecurity all over your body, like he was touching you everywhere you hated. Your brain was telling you that through feeling the soft part of your stomach, he could also feel and see where your thighs were too big, where stretchmarks were painted all over your body, and where your skin wasn’t completely smooth.

He probably would hate my body as much as I do if he could see. The little voice in your head nagged.

Obviously, you knew that wasn’t true. You knew that everyone had little things that bothered them and yours weren’t even especially unusual. You also knew that voicing these thoughts to Peter would likely lead to you being even more self-conscious and him being confused. Or even worse, him pitying you. You were snapped out of your spiral by Peter’s shifting in position.

“What’re you thinking of, baby?” Peter whispered. To your horror, his hand started rubbing your stomach over your sweater. “I can practically see the steam coming out of your ears.” He laughed the way he does when trying to calm you down, like he doesn’t think it’s funny but it might be less intimidating if you believe he does. You turned your head to look at him. Being this close didn’t allow you to see his full face, but you could see one of his pretty brown eyes, looking at you with far too much love for your heart to handle.

“Not thinking of anythin’ really.” You kept your voice as even as possible and hoped he didn’t hear the nervous hitch in your breath as he reached under the hem of your sweatshirt to touch your skin. You panicked and tried to cover by grabbing his hand in yours and holding it between your ribs, right under your chest. He looked confused but still stroked your hand with his thumb.

“Yeah okay.” He was sarcastic and rolling his eyes but his voice was still light. He brought your joined hands up to kiss the veins on your wrist, closing his eyes and letting his lips linger for a good few seconds. All while still burning his eyes over your face, letting his pupils linger over a feature before jumping to the next, admiring your whole face with so much care you would cry.

“What?” You asked, growing shy under his intense stare.

“You’re so pretty, baby.” He was still smiling at you like a fool. “So so pretty.” He sing-songed. He urged you to lay on top of him with his arms, but you held fast in your place. Your boyfriend apparently took this as a challenge, because he showed off his real strength by pulling you fast onto his chest.

“Peter!” You said, scolding and nervous and flustered all at once.

“What?” He asked smugly, with a look of triumph on his face. You ducked your head out of his eyesight. “Baby, what’s up?” He asked again, more sincere. You still didn’t answer, your anxiety was roaring too loud in your head. You were probably crushing him under your weight. His hands were planted on your hips, likely feeling the extra fat and getting grossed out. He was just too nice to say anything. He was also too far close to your face for comfort, definitely seeing patches of oily skin or blemishes littering your face. It all became too much for you and you tried to roll off of him, but he gripped onto you harder.

“Peter, let me off.” You kept your voice light but you were panicking inside.

“Yeah, not happening.” He stayed stubborn as a mule.

“But I’m heavy, I’ll crush you.” You said desperately.

“Good.” He rebutted, still acting as if this was a casual conversation.

“Peter, I’m serious. I’m too heavy for this. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Your voice trailed off, getting quieter towards the end. The whole sentence was soaked in shame that Peter hadn’t yet picked up on. Now, there was a concerned crease between his eyebrows.

“Huh?” He looked genuinely confused. “What put that dumb idea in your head? ‘Too heavy’ for what, exactly?” He started as if he was about to rant, but cut it short. To your dismay, he pulled more of your weight onto him.

“It’s not dumb, it’s true. I’m just too heavy” You argued back. He couldn’t really be that oblivious. Anyone with eyes could see it.

“Oh I’m sorry,” He started sassing, like he actually wasn’t sorry at all. “I didn’t know that you now were the only deciding judge of something being ‘too much.’” He was being defiant on purpose.

“Peter, please.” All joking and argumentativeness had left your tone, just leaving shame and sadness. Peter softened at this and encouraged your head up to meet his eyes, holding your jaw firmly so you couldn’t look away. He looked like he was slowly putting pieces together in his head.

“Baby,” He started, still not breaking eye contact with you. “Is this why you’ve not been letting me touch you as much?” Peter looked so sad, it didn’t suit him at all and you wanted to make it better immediately. “Do you think there’s something wrong with you, that I would think there’s something wrong with you?” On the last sentence he was extra distressed, like he couldn’t believe the words were leaving his mouth.

“I just-” You were trying to articulate your feelings without making this any worse. “I mean, not every part of me is pretty, you know that.” You tried to say it casually but Peter’s expression didn’t lighten at all. Instead, his bottom lip jutted out and his eyes got wider, looking like a cartoonishly sad puppy who was denied a treat.

“I don’t know that, actually.” He moved his hand to the back of your head, threading his fingers in your hair. “You don’t think you’re pretty?” He said the last part like his heart was cracking. And in Peter’s mind, it was. His baby was thinking badly of herself, and even worse, she was thinking he thought badly of her.

“I mean,” You cringed as the words left your mouth, wanting desperately for the conversation to end. “Not really. At least, there is a lot about me that could be a lot better.” Peter was at a loss for words. You had obviously mulled this over and were solid in your opinion.

“I don’t think there is. I think you are perfect. I love everything about you.” He said softly, his voice missing its usual teasing tone.

“But-” You started, but cut yourself off.

“But what?” Your argumentative boyfriend was back. “C’mon. Talk to me, baby.”

“I just-” You gathered your thoughts as best you could. He was really being difficult. There was no way he hadn’t noticed something. You also really did not want to say your insecurities out loud. It was too raw. But you knew Peter, and he wouldn’t back off without you giving something. “My stomach isn’t flat.” You said, as if that was enough argument for you being disgusting.

“Okay?” He actually laughed at this, eyebrows scrunched in confusion. “And?”

You rolled your eyes, irritated. “And, in general I’m just too big. And my skin isn’t good either. It just doesn’t all add up very well does it?” You resisted the urge to cry, you didn’t want to add that on top of this already stressful discussion.

“Sweetheart,” He looked exasperated. “I think- I think you’re being really mean and unfair to yourself.” He searched for the right words. “Everyone has things about themselves they don’t like, yeah? But you should know, you are not too anything, and there is nothing about your looks or body that is ‘not good.’’ He said every word firmly. “And most importantly, there is nothing, absolutely nothing about your body that I dislike, or that you should worry about me seeing or touching, okay?” His voice was soft during the last few sentences, like he was speaking to a little kid with a scraped knee. It made it a lot harder to resist crying. “Okay?” he said, still looking directly into your eyes.

“Okay.” You said, watery. You swallowed hard and buried your face in his chest, feeling all too many emotions. “Thank you, Pete.” You didn’t think you could say anything else without falling apart.

“It’s okay. I'ts alright. It’s what I’m here for.” He stroked the back of your head, still being gentle. “Just do me a favor, yeah?”

“Mhm?” You muffled.

“Just, make my job easier for me next time. Tell me when you’re feeling like this, okay baby?” He pleaded as he pressed a kiss to your hair.

“Okay. I will.”

“Good. Now cuddle me please.” Demanding Peter was back. “And put all your weight on me, it’s no good otherwise.”

#tasm peter parker #tasm!peter x reader #tasm spiderman #tasm!peter x you #tasm!spiderman x reader #fluff #tasm!peter imagine #tasm!peter parker #tasm!peter fluff #tasm!peter fanfiction #tasm peter parker drabble #peter parker x reader #drabble #hurt/comfort #peter parker hurt/comfort #the amazing spider man

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daisies-daydreams · 1 year

Text

Husband/Papa Ghost Headcanons

Pairing: Simon (Ghost) Riley x Wife!Reader Category: Fluff Warnings: Suggestive Content, Swearing, Descriptions of Labor/Contractions

Author's Note: This is a continuation of this request (WARNING: 18+). Enjoy!

Simon would be a proud papa, that's for sure.

He didn’t use his phone that much before, only to text or call people. But his storage space began to run out pretty quickly with all of the photos and videos he took of your daughter, Lily.

“What are you doing, Si?” you giggled. Lily banged on the toy piano while your husband was crouched down, phone camera rolling.

“Filming Lily’s performance,” he replied matter-of-factly. You chuckled and kissed the top of his head, ruffling his dark brown hair. Your two-year old daughter cheered when she finished her song, face lit up and arms stretched above her head in triumph.

“All done!” she beamed with a wide smile. Both of you clapped.

“Good job, Lil,” Simon chuckled.

Simon nearly passed out when you told him you were pregnant with your second baby (not that it came as a surprise to you both👀).

Just like your first pregnancy, he’d try to be there for you as much as he could. It was different now with Lily in the picture, but she made many of your days full of joy and laughter.

I can see him being a stern yet reasonable dad. He’d discipline his kids yet never intentionally hurt them.

Lily’s lower lip pouted as she avoided his gaze. Simon’s arms were at his sides as he eyed the blue stains on her face and the empty candy jar on the floor. He lowered himself to be at her eye-level.

“Lily, baby, did you eat the candy even though Mommy told you not to?” Simon asked, trying to keep his voice soft and steady. Lily burst into tears, rubbing her eyes with her little, sticky hands.

“I sowwy,” she sniffled. His heart ached, but he knew she had to learn to listen to her mom.

“I know, baby,” he sighed as he pulled her into a hug. She cried into his chest. “Candy tastes yummy, but it’ll hurt your tummy if you eat too much,” Simon explained. Lily sniffed, snot dripping from her button nose and onto his shirt. He pulled her back and looked her in the eyes. “No candy for the next three days, okay? Then you can have it again,” he explained while holding up three fingers. She puffed out another sob before nodding her head.

“Okay, Dada,” she sniffled.

Your second pregnancy was more difficult than the first. You had more health complications, which worried Simon half-to-death. He couldn’t bear to think of anything happening to you while he was thousands of miles away on a mission.

All of 141 were like family to you. They'd pop in every once in a while, especially Lily's godfather, Soap.

"Unk Nee!" Lily squealed. Soap grinned ear to ear at the attempt of his nickname ("Uncle Johnny"). She giggled as she ran into his open arms. He spun her around as you walked in from your bedroom. You gave a tired smile, leaning on the wall and rubbing your swollen belly. Simon was still working on his car in the garage, yelling out that he'd be there in a moment.

"How's my wee firecracker doin'?" Soap beamed. Lily ducked her head into his shoulder, her small dirty blonde curls bouncing. Both of you laughed. "Gettin' shy now, are ya?" Soap chuckled.

"You know how kids are," you waved. Soap smiled as he set the toddler down. She rushed back over to you, hiding behind your legs. You patted her head gently.

"How you doin', lass?" Soap asked as he stepped further inside. You sighed, Lily clinging to your maternity pants.

"This pregnancy's kicking my a-butt, it's kicking my butt," you quickly changed your wording. Soap snorted as Lily cackled behind you.

"Mama said 'butt'!" your daughter sang. You grumbled and collapsed your face into your hands.

"Sounds like she's got quite the potty mouth, huh Lily?" your husband chuckled beside you. You felt him snake his hand around your waist. He pecked your cheek, his skin coated in a sheen of sweat from his hard work.

"Why don't you give me a spanking later to teach me a lesson?" you whispered lowly into his ear. Red immediately flooded his cheeks as his hand gripped your hip. Before he could retort, another figure walked through the front door. Lily peeked from behind your legs and gasped as Price entered the room.

"Grandpa!" Lily cheered while pointing her finger at the captain.

You've never heard a room grow so quiet in a single second.

Both of you explained that Price was most definitely not her grandpa, yet she was insistent on the terminology. The captain teased Simon about it constantly.

"I think you taught her to say that," Price chuckled.

As the due date approached, Simon's heart was shattered. He was being sent away on a longer mission, and it required that he made no contact with you. Your husband assured you that he'd be back in time for the delivery, and spent as much time as he could with you and Lily before he left.

A few weeks later, Simon was sprinting through the hospital to get to your delivery room.

Simon’s heavy footsteps echoed down the hall as he whipped around the corner. A blonde nurse shot an incredulous look at the masked man as he sprinted to the counter.

“WHERE’S DELIVERY ROOM 109?!” Simon boomed. The poor woman's face went pale as she pointed a shaking finger down the hall. His head snapped as he shouted a ‘thank you’ behind him. Simon rushed past several nurses and doctors, the door getting closer. He could hear your wailing pierce through the hallway. Simon nearly crashed into the doctor when he stepped out into the hall.

“MR. RILEY!” the doctor gaped with wide eyes. Your husband’s chest rose and fell as he panted. Another harsh cry broke out through the room. “Quickly, she’s about to start pushing,” the doctor rushed him inside. Simon's eyes grew wide as they locked with yours.

"Si," you called softly. Your face was pale, sweat covering every inch of your tense and aching body. Simon rushed over, immediately clasping his hands over yours.

“You look beautiful, sweetheart,” his dry voice croaked. You gave a weak laugh before jolting forward, another strong contraction ripping through you.

“B-Bullshit,” you tiredly chuckled through gritted teeth. The doctor and nurses came closer to your bedside.

“Okay, Mrs. Riley. It's time to start pushing. Are you ready?” the doctor asked. You swallowed thickly, your entire body shaking as it was wracked with waves of pain. Simon squeezed your hand and lifted his skull balaclava to place a gentle kiss on your lips.

“You’ve got this, love. I’m right here,” he assured. You nodded before sucking in a deep breath.

Not long after, your baby boy, Thomas, was born.

His throat grew tight when you suggested his late brother's name. You were afraid you'd overstepped, but he quickly kissed you on the lips and told you it was the perfect name for the newest addition to the Riley family.

Simon stared in awe at the small baby swaddled in his arms. You were fast asleep in your new bed, exhausted from the long, grueling day. Thomas' plump, rosy cheeks glowed softly as he yawned. Your husband beamed when two small, dark eyes just like his own gazed up at him.

“Hi there, little Tommy,” Simon breathed.

Both of you were unsure as to how Lily would take to her new baby brother. However, when her eyes lit up and she squealed when she saw him for the first time, Simon knew she’d be the best big sister.

Simon would make it a goal to read to Lily and Tommy every night. It melted your heart when you sat with him, Lily in her bed and Tommy in his crib listening to his low voice lull them to sleep.

While most date nights were spent inside your home nowadays, he was just happy to spend any time he had with you.

Simon would leave little gifts or notes around the house, letting you know what an amazing mother and wife you are.

If you feel insecure about your body after giving birth, he'll do everything in his power to remind you otherwise.

Your eyes widened as a sudden slap streaked across your ass. You whipped your head around. Simon's eyes were trained on the TV, though the hand draped over the arm of the couch said enough. You crossed your arms, thankful that Lily was playing in the adjacent room and Tommy was fast asleep in his crib.

"Got something to tell me, Si?" you said with a quirked brow. His lidded, chocolate-brown eyes flicked over to you, his hands reaching over to pull you on your lap.

"Simon!" you gasped. Laughs spilled from your lips as your husband bombarded your neck with kisses, his large hands reaching down and squeezing your bum.

"Can't help myself, sweetheart. Not when you're walking around with this cute arse of yours," he mused. You bit your lip and wiggled in his lap. He nibbled on your ear, his voice low and husky as he whispered into it.

"Tonight, after the kids are asleep, why don't I show you just how irresistible you are?" Simon groaned.

Tommy was a much more of a fussy baby than Lily. He’d keep both of you up constantly. You called your/Simon's relatives or friends over every so often so both of you could have a break.

“How are you feeling, love?” Simon asked. Both of you were lying in the hammock in a park, the summer breeze rocking you back and forth. Your best friend was at home watching your children. Heavy bags rested below your eyes as you stretched.

“Fucking exhausted,” you sighed. Simon chuckled, brushing your hair from your forehead and planting a kiss over it.

“I know, hun. Why don’t you take a nap, yeah?” he suggested. You nodded, letting sleep quickly overtake you. He breathed in through his nose, his mind wandering too much for him to fall asleep. Instead, he took in the sight of his beautiful wife wrapped in his arms as the rest of the world melted away.

____

Thank you for reading! ❤️

(Writing these melts my heart ngl. We love Papa Ghost in this house).

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just-my-latest-hyperfixation · 7 months

Text

Sweet indulgence 🛼

Written for the Valentine's Day pop-up challenge of the @steddieholidaydrabbles blog.

Rated: G

CW: none

Tags: No UD AU; Future fic; Flirting; Sexual Tension; Record label owner!Eddie; Waiter!Steve; Steve in roller skates; First date (Eddie says it counts 💖)

Notes: continued from this one.

"You can’t be fucking serious,” Steve says.

“Why not?” Eddie throws the garishly pink flier back down on the table. “It’s still Valentine’s Day.”

“For thirteen more minutes,” Steve bristles, pen pressing down on his little notepad so hard that Eddie is afraid he’ll punch a hole through it. “You don’t even have a date.”

“Didn’t know that was required,” Eddie grins. “All I’m saying is, if you offer a Valentine’s Day special, then that special should be available for the entirety of Valentine’s Day, so …”

Steve makes an exasperated sound, but still jots down the order.

“You’re being ridiculous,” he barks over his shoulder as he pushes away from the table and disappears into the kitchen. “Just so you know.”

Eddie watches him glide away, legs and ass a meal in their own right in those shorts and knee-highs and the fucking roller skates.

Maybe the boy has a point. Maybe he is being ridiculous.

It’s not exactly normal behavior, discovering that your former high school king is now a waiter at the diner down the street, and then promptly declaring said diner your new after-work dinner spot. But Eddie never claimed to be normal. And he’s always been a tad bit obsessed with Steve Harrington, so here they are.

Steve has long resigned himself to his nightly visits. Never once has he acknowledged their shared history, and Eddie hasn’t pushed. Instead, he’s slowly putting together all the little puzzle pieces he’s been collecting.

Steve will grumble and scowl and bitch over Eddie’s absurd orders and constant attempts at flirting, but he never fails to pocket his generous tips, so he must be struggling financially. He’s pulling at least one job besides the one at the diner. Most likely a babysitting gig, as indicated by the sparkly hair clips and stickers that Eddie regularly spots in his hair and on his clothes. He’s also not seeing anyone, because if he was, he sure as hell wouldn’t be working the night shift on Valentine’s Day.

He also hasn’t eaten in a while, if the tummy rumble as he brings the order is anything to go by. Eddie quirks a brow. Steve blushes and hugs the tray to his chest.

“Enjoy your meal,” he says, but Eddie holds up a hand and gestures invitingly at the empty seat opposite him.

“Join me?”

Steve’s brow furrows. “I’m on the clock.”

“Oh yeah, and super fucking busy, I can see,” Eddie quips. “Indulge me, my liege.”

Steve chews on his bottom lip, casting a hesitant glance towards the kitchen. Finally, he sighs and slips into the free seat. Eddie hands over one of the two cupcakes on his plate, decorated in a lopsided tower of frosting and a smattering of heart-shaped sprinkles. Steve devours nearly half of it with two enormous bites, and if triumph blooms warm and heavy in Eddie’s chest, that’s neither here nor there.

“So,” he drawls, ignoring his own cupcake in favor of stacking his chin on top of his folded hands, peering at Steve over the rim of his sunglasses. “How was your day? Been handing out lots of these little babies?”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, sure,” he says around a mouthful of frosting. “Have you seen this place? Premium date spot. So classy and romantic.”

They lapse into silence for a few seconds. Steve grabs the milkshake with the two straws without waiting for an invitation and takes an enormous sip. There’s a tiny pink sprinkle at the corner of his mouth. Eddie resists the temptation to reach out and wipe it away.

“What about you, huh? You own the record label down the street, right? Surely your day was much more interesting than mine.”

So he isn’t the only one who’s been puzzling, Eddie thinks.

“Hellfire Records,” he nods, happy to ramble about his baby, even though Steve’s attempt at diverting the topic is not nearly as subtle as the boy may think. “We have some pretty cool bands, but I’m not sure they’re your taste, exactly.”

“Oh?” Steve shoves the last bit of cupcake into his mouth, licking leftover frosting off his fingers. “Bold of you to assume that you’d know my taste. Indulge me?”

Eddie does.

Steve does, it turns out, know fuck all about metal and grunge, but he’s surprisingly interested and open-minded. Much more open-minded than Eddie would’ve expected from Hawkins High royalty. By the time they wrap up their little talk and make their way over to the counter, Steve has finished not only the milkshake, but also the second cupcake.

When Eddie hands over the usual fifty, Steve hesitates.

“You already gave me all the food.”

Eddie smiles easily. “So? Gotta let my favorite waiter know I appreciate him on this fine holiday.”

Something flits over Steve’s face, something open and vulnerable, but it’s gone as soon as it came.

“Don’t think you can buy my affection, Eddie,” he murmurs, snatching the bank note from Eddie’s fingers and stuffing it into his apron pocket.

“Don’t worry,” Eddie winks and saunters towards the door - carefully making sure to keep the giddy spring out of his step. Steve called him Eddie. Not Munson. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Good,” Steve calls after him. “See you tomorrow?”

“You bet, big boy,” Eddie says. He’s just about to leave when something else occurs to him. “And I’ll be sure to pick a nicer spot for our second date, promise.”

Steve’s blush is as pink as the sprinkle that’s still stuck at the corner of his mouth. Eddie doesn’t wait for his retort, just shuts the door and makes for home, grinning like a maniac.

🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕🛼💕

Tagging some ppl who expressed interest last time: @p0lybl4nkk @fairytalesreality @colidamae @dissociatingdemon @steddhie @formosusiniquis @steddiehasmywholeheart @ellaelsinore @rozzieroos

Part 3

#steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie brainrot #steddie fanfic #fanfiction writer #fanfiction #fanfic #my writing #steddieholidaydrabbles #steddieholidaydrabbles pop-up challenge #upside diner AU #ready to roll?#hype's holiday drabbles 2024 #upside diner au

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bleubrri · 1 year

Text

grocery shoppin’ baby-time fluff with bo \^o^/

before you even turn onto the aisle, you can hear your daughter squealing with laughter. bokuto is crouched in front of the cart, meticulously balancing an absurd amount of blueberry yogurt pots in his arms which she apparently finds hilarious. her heels kick back against the metal below her seat and the whole cart jolts from her excitement.

you stroll up, a poorly subdued smile etched onto your lips as your boyfriend struggles to clear the last few from the shelf.

“you realise we’re not buying all that, right?”

kotarous eyes dart up to where you’re leaning against the cart, smoothing your fingers over your baby’s hair. he pouts, yogurt tucked under his chin as he stands to face you, “it’s her favourite.”

you chuckle, reaching for one of the packs cradled in his arms. “last week her favourite was peach-mango. and the week before, she would rather throw yogurt in your face than eat it.”

bokuto counters your argument, “okay that was once, and i’ve got a feeling blueberry is the new wave. trust me on this, babe.” he grins at his little girl, babbling and waving her fists in agreement. you’re unconvinced.

you smirk, remembering empty yogurt pots littering his desk and berry flavoured kisses when he’d pick you up in the mornings. “oh yeah, whys that?”

bo puffs out his chest, strides over to your place beside the cart and confidently unloads his haul with the rest of the groceries. (which—now that you’re looking— seem to have been given a similar treatment, if the months supply of cereal boxes and apocalypse-prep level of crackers are anything to go by).

“because,” he drawls, “it’s in her blood! right, muffin?” he blinks expectantly at your daughter, who kicks her heels even more fiercely and giggles up at her daddy.

bokuto beams, scooping your little bundle of sunshine into his arms, turning to you with her perched on his hip and a smug smile on his face. “see?”

you roll your eyes playfully, reaching out to tickle the rounded tummy underneath her dungarees, “okay traitor, majority rules.” and dropping the pack that you’d swiped into the cart.

you watch with a droopy gaze as he spins her around in triumph, bubbly laughter filling the aisle and your heart squeezing in your chest. oh, you love them so much. you wonder if she’ll ever comprehend it, if he could ever understand all that he’s given you. you think you could burst into tears right here, feel your heart melt under your ribs and pool out at your fingertips right in the dairy aisle, watching bokuto babble nonsense at your baby like it’s the most important thing in the world.

he nods solemnly, leaning in to whisper, “tell mama we got the cookies she likes.”

you laugh, reaching out at the grabby hands made in your direction. “let’s get out of here before you two bankrupt us.”

“how could you do this to me?” bokuto whines, chin against the table and shoulders slumped in defeat.

you fight the smile that wants to emerge as you spoon the last of the yogurt into your daughters mouth. the dinner table has a pile of unopened yogurt packs in the corner, and a much larger trail of empty pots surrounding where bokuto slumps. he looks expectantly at the little girl perched in her high chair with strawberry-banana residue smeared onto her cheeks. she claps her hands and gurgles.

you make a show of wiping her down and chattering to her, “wasn’t that yummy! shall we try a new one tomorrow, hm?”

kotarou drops his forehead to the table with a resounding thud, muttering to himself, “i think i’m gonna throw up..”

even when she gets a little older and will eat most flavours without much fuss, there’s the odd pot of blueberry that remains untouched until after her dinner, when she’ll proudly deposit it in front of bokutos place and state that “daddy can eat it!”

he doesn’t have the heart to refuse her. he accepts it with vigour, “oh you treasure! thank you for sharing, baby.” and spoons down every mouthful as she watches him with glittering eyes that match his own. it’ll never fail to make you laugh when she totters off and his face drops into a groan, pushing the infernal blue pot as far away as possible.

#self indulgence time #i love that big beefy sunshine boy #˚⁀➷｡˚ selfships !#｡･:*:･ﾟ★ bokutoverse #bokuto x reader #haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #bokuto x you #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #bokuto koutaro x reader

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gracesimp · 1 year

Note

Could i request Alec Hardy? Maybe reader is feeling a little down and Alec tries to cheer them up by giving her compliments about their body and how cute they are? (It doesn't have to be smut if you don't want to.)

Also, I really like your content. 💥

to love you

alec hardy x fem!reader

summary: reader is feeling a little insecure. Alec cheers her up in the best possible way.

Alec Hardy was pretty notorious in the small town of Broadchurch for being the no-nonsense, broody detective. The most affection he had shown to someone in public had been an awkward pat on the back when one of his coworkers did well.

But, in private, with only one person, he found his hardened exterior diminished completely, replaced with soft half lidded eyes and adoring glances.

"Darlin', is everything alright?" He calls out as he sits on the bed in only his briefs.

It had started with a little kiss. And then some touching. Alec's hand running down her curves, her fingers tugging at his hair. But it ended when a nearly naked Alec was desperately trying to unbutton his partner's top. Her hand grabbed his softly and she quickly excused herself to the en-suite hotel bathroom. That was nearly ten minutes ago.

Slowly, the door creaks open and Y/n walks out in only a robe. Alec quickly looks up, a soft smile on his lips as he sees her, but it's replaced with a little frown when he notices the way she fidgets with her fingers.

"What's wrong?" He asks softly, his knees digging into the mattress as Y/n stands in front of him, looking a little shy.

"I'm just feeling a little..." She trails off, her heart thumping as she avoids his eyes. "I don't like my body much today." She eventually confesses, her voice small.

Alec's eyebrows shoot up, as if he had heard something completely unbelievable. "You don't? Why not?" He prods softly, shifting on the bed so he's kneeling, his face close to her neck.

A little sigh leaves Y/n's lips, and she blinks back tears. "My belly is bloated, my thighs are-" She can't even finish the sentence as a tear wiggles down her cheek. "Sorry."

Using his rough, calloused hands, he slowly tugs at the robe, his eyes looking up at her, asking if she was okay with this. When she makes no objection, he removes the robe, watching as it falls to the floor and pools around her feet. "This belly?" He asks, his finger running down it teasingly slow, making her suck in a breath. Alec smirks, but looks at her with an air of innocence. "This cute, sexy belly?" He continues as her face heats up.

"it's not cute nor sexy." Y/n denies in a stubborn mumble, but her lips twitch up despite herself.

Letting out a deep chuckle, Alec shakes his head. "Oh, but, love. I disagree." He places his lips softly on her tummy, and Y/n scrunches her nose to try and hide her smile. He places soft, gentle kisses all over her stomach causing Y/n to finally erupt into a fit of giggles as his scruff tickles her belly. He smirks in triumph, pulling back and looking up at her again.

"I don't like you very much." She says with a smile.

"Well, I love you." He states, his hands now grabbing her hips. "What else did you say you didn't like? your thighs?" Y/n merely rolls her lips together, and Alec neither waits for a response as he attacks her thighs with his lips.

His girlfriend giggles louder when he playfully nibbles at the flesh delicately. She looks down at him, her eyes full of love, and she cannot help herself as the urge to run her fingers through his hair consumes her.

"I love you," She whispers, using both of her hands to cup his face, dragging his head up to meet hers.

The detective grins cheekily. "I know." Her thumb rubs his cheek soothingly, but he suddenly yanks her down onto the bed by her hips, and she squeals in surprise before laughing.

#broadchurch #david tennant #david tennant x reader #alec hardy #alec hardy x reader #request

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froggibus · 2 months

Note

do u write for brig? i’m yearning rlly hard lately and i just wanna dance with her in the kitchen at like 2 am while we’re making some late night snacks, if u would be willing to write something like that ^-^ i hope you feel better!!

Midnight Snack - Brigitte

Pairing: Brigitte x gn! reader

Genre: fluff

Word Count: 670

Summary: after rescuing you from a marshmallow crisis, your girlfriend parades you around the kitchen while singing

CW: established relationship, reader is shorter than Brig (but Brig is like 6’0 lol), you wear Brig’s shirt, Brig carries you, lots of cute goofy fluff

yes I do write for Brig!! she’s only ever been in hcs as of now but this post changes that!! also thank you ^^ I am feeling much better after having a day to rest. thanks so much for the request lovely, hope you’re having a great day ! pls someone remind me to give this a proper banner in the morning

Brigitte looks up at you from her sandwich, a stray strand of brown hair casting a shadow across her face in the refrigerator light. She grants you a soft smile, smearing Nutella across the bread without even looking.

“Baby, could you grab the marshmallow fluff from the cabinet, please?”

You scrunch your nose. “Marshmallow fluff does not belong on a sandwich,” you say while you shuffle towards the cupboard. “It’s a good thing I love you.”

You swing open the pantry door and squint your eyes into the dim light, scanning the shelves for the white jar. You spot it—on the highest shelf, of course. It taunts you from its place above your head, leaning just out of reach from your rising finger tips.

Pushing up on your tip toes, you stretch as tall as you can, stretching your arm until it hurts. The t-shirt you borrowed from your girlfriend rises up over your thighs, threatening to reveal the seams of your underwear.

“Babe? Everything alright in there?”

Your fingers grasp the jar just as Brigitte makes her way to the pantry. You go to cheer in triumph, forgetting you’re still on your toes, and lose your balance. Your weight shifts and you tumble backwards, grasping the jar of Jet-Puffed for dear life.

You let out a squeak when Brig catches you, her strong arms enveloping you and tugging you tight to her chest.

“Careful, careful!” She chastises, helping you get steady on your feet. She grabs your shoulders and spins you to face her. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” you laugh. “Just freaked me out a bit.”

That’s not good enough for your girlfriend, though. She squints at you, running her hands up and down your arms while examining the rest of you with her eyes. Her tongue juts out in concentration in that cute way it always does.

When she’s finally satisfied, she pulls away with a curt nod. “I think you’ll live.” She glances down to your hand, “how’s the marshmallow fluff?”

You’d almost forgotten what it is you were going to get, the jar suddenly featherlight in your hand. You twist it around, examining it the way she’d just examined you.

“I think it’ll live.”

She laughs and your heart takes flight, golden light pouring through your body and soothing you from the inside out. You step closer to her, standing cautiously on your toes once more to plant a chaste kiss to her lips.

She smiles into it, the familiarity of her warmth sending butterflies to your tummy. Her hands trail down your arms, one of them wrapping around your palm and the other gripping the marshmallow jar.

The callouses on her hand tickles your skin, making you clench your fingers around hers. “Babe,” you say quietly.

She hums in response, her soft tone taking off in a song as she drags you closer to her. You have no time to react before she’s shuffling across the floor, humming louder as she pulls you along with her.

You giggle at her antics. “Brig!”

That only prompts her to open her mouth and start singing, and though she’s off key and giggling the words, it’s the most beautiful thing you’ve ever heard.

“Cause I don’t want the world to see me, cause I don’t think that they’d understand,” she sings, and her laughter is so contagious that you can’t help but sing along.

The two of you continue to dance around the kitchen, stumbling your way through the dim light that the half moon offers through the window. You sing along with her, grateful to be alive for such a beautiful moment.

Brig keeps singing until she’s gotten to the very last word of the song, offering you a big, goofy grin when she finally stops. She leans down once more and plants a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You open your mouth to speak but pause when horror dawns across her face. “What’s wrong?”

“My sandwich is gonna be dry now,” she frowns.

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mjsdiana · 8 days

Text

𝙷𝚒𝚍𝚎 & 𝚂𝚎𝚎𝚔

1988

Neverland Ranch

Word Count: 7.5k

𖧷 Fem!Reader, Pregnancy 𖧷

The house was alive, practically humming with the sound of laughter. It echoed off the vaulted ceilings and danced through the hallways, filling every corner with the kind of pure, unfiltered joy that comes only from shared moments of true happiness. The late afternoon sunlight streamed through the tall windows, casting a warm, golden glow that wrapped around the family like a comforting blanket. The living room, strewn with toys, books, and the scattered remnants of a day well spent, had the kind of coziness that only comes from years of love and memories.

Your children’s laughter—high-pitched and uncontrollable—was the loudest. It filled the space like music, those small giggles and breathless squeals that made your heart swell. They were rolling around on the thick, plush carpet, their little bodies wriggling and kicking, hands clutching at their bellies as they tried to catch their breath, but failed miserably because Michael—of course—wasn’t letting up.

Your son, with his bright, wide eyes and face flushed pink from laughing so hard, was trying his best to keep up with his older sister, who had long since surrendered to her giggles. She was sprawled out on the floor, curls in a wild halo around her head, legs kicking in the air as she squealed, “Daddy, stop!” in between gasps.

Michael, ever the jokester, stood tall in the center of the room, towering over the chaos he’d created, and the grin plastered on his face was one of triumph. After ten years together—five of them married—you thought you knew every side of him. But there he was, effortlessly slipping into a spot-on Mickey Mouse impression that had you—and the kids—crying with laughter.

“Daddy, stop!” your daughter hollered again, her tiny hands still gripping her belly. “My tummy hurts!” she gasped, eyes squeezed shut as another wave of giggles overtook her.

But Michael was in his element. With that grin of his, he leaned into another Mickey impression, his voice rising to that perfect high-pitched falsetto that you never could’ve guessed he could pull off so well. You were doubled over, breathless from laughing, the sight of him—your husband, the man you adored—playing the role of Mickey Mouse with such dedication, making you laugh harder than you had in ages. His playfulness had always been one of the many things that made you fall for him, but even now, it surprised you just how much joy he could bring with such simple, silly moments.

“Just one more!” Michael declared, mischief sparkling in his eyes as he strutted over to the piano in the corner of the room. With a flourish, he grabbed a pair of Mickey ears from the top of it—who knew how long he’d been hiding those—and perched them proudly on his head. The sight of him, standing there with his boyish grin, Mickey ears slightly crooked, looking absolutely ridiculous, was almost too much to bear.

“No, Michael!” you wheezed, trying to get a hold of yourself, but still laughing despite your protests. Your sides ached from it, and your cheeks were hot and sore, stretched from grinning too wide. “That’s enough, baby. I can’t… I can’t anymore!” You stumbled forward, hands on your knees, trying to catch your breath.

Michael pouted, sticking his bottom lip out like a little kid, his eyes wide with faux innocence. “Aww, why not?” he teased, his voice still tinged with the faintest hint of Mickey Mouse, knowing full well what he was doing to you.

You shook your head, gasping for air. “Because my stomach, Michael! I can’t keep laughing like this!” Despite yourself, you broke into another fit of giggles, your words barely escaping between breaths.

Michael, unable to hold back his own laughter anymore, snickered, his shoulders shaking as he finally relented. His deep, hearty laugh filled the room, blending with the softer giggles of the kids, and for a few long moments, the only thing that existed was the sound of your family, wrapped in this bubble of shared joy.

Eventually, the laughter settled down, leaving the room in a warm, glowing silence. You wiped a tear from your eye, your breath finally evening out. Michael pulled the Mickey ears off and tossed them back onto the piano, then sauntered over to where the kids had collapsed in a happy heap on the floor. Your daughter reached out, grabbing your hand with a soft tug, her big brown eyes—Michael’s eyes—looking up at you with that innocent, playful glint. She pulled you down, insisting you join them on the floor.

You sat down next to Michael, your back leaning against the couch as you let out a contented sigh. Your head naturally found its place on his shoulder, the familiar weight of him grounding you as you snuggled closer. His arm looped around you instinctively, pulling you into the warmth of his side. The kids were still sprawled out, your son’s arm draped across his sister’s stomach as they lay on the carpet, both of them worn out from laughing.

Michael looked down at them, his voice soft and full of affection. “So,” he said, “anything you two want to do today?”

Your son, always the first to speak up, immediately perked up. “Can we go swimming?” he asked, his voice full of hope, eyes wide as he stared at you both, waiting for the answer he wanted.

Michael chuckled, shaking his head. “Sorry, buddy. The pool needs to be cleaned. But we’ll go soon, I promise.”

Before your son could protest, your daughter sat up, her curls bouncing as she looked between you and Michael with that determined glimmer in her eyes. “What about hide and seek?” she asked, her voice rising in excitement at the prospect.

You couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “In the house?” you teased, raising a brow. “It’s way too crowded in here for that, baby.”

But she wasn’t deterred. She shook her head furiously, her loose curls swaying with the motion. “No, Mommy, outside!” she said, her big brown eyes locking onto yours, knowing full well that neither you nor Michael could say no to that face.

You glanced at Michael, catching that familiar playful shrug he always gave you when he was about to go along with something mischievous. His grin, subtle yet full of warmth, seemed to ask, Why not? There was something so easy about moments like this with him. The afternoon sun was dipping lower in the sky, casting long, golden beams of light that filtered through the trees, wrapping the backyard in a soft glow. The thought of playing hide and seek in that serene light, with the laughter of your little family filling the air, felt perfect. It was one of those simple pleasures—nothing extravagant, just you, him, and the kids, lost in the joy of being together.

“Alright,” you said, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you watched your daughter’s eyes light up with pure excitement. “Hide and seek outside it is.”

In an instant, the kids’ faces lit up, their smiles as bright as the sun that bathed the room in warmth. Without another word, they were off, their little legs moving as fast as they could, racing each other toward the door. Their giggles, like wind chimes in a breeze, echoed through the room, filling the air with their boundless energy.

Michael, watching them with that familiar mix of amusement and fatherly responsibility, shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. But then, his expression shifted—still soft but more authoritative as his ‘dad mode’ switched on.

“Hey, wait a minute now!” he called out, his voice firm but gentle as he stood up, his broad frame moving toward the front entrance with that easy, confident stride. The subtle shift in his tone was unmistakable—this was the side of Michael that always made you smile. The way he could balance being playful and responsible, loving yet firm. “Go change your shoes first, then we can go outside,” he added, glancing over his shoulder at them with that no-nonsense look only he could pull off.

The kids skidded to a stop at the base of the staircase, turning back to face him with wide eyes. “Okay, Daddy!” they chorused in unison before scampering up the stairs, their giggles trailing behind them as they hurried to their rooms.

Michael stood by the door, his arms crossed loosely over his chest, watching them go with an affectionate smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. You couldn’t help but take a moment to admire him—the way he fit so seamlessly into this role of loving father, protector, and partner. His presence was solid and steady, like an anchor for your family.

You stood up, crossing the room to where he was, and without thinking, you wrapped your arms around his, leaning into him. His warmth immediately enveloped you, the familiar scent of him—clean, earthy, comforting—instantly soothing. You rested your head briefly against his arm, feeling the steady rhythm of his breathing as you looked up at him.

“You know,” you murmured, your voice soft and teasing, “you’re pretty cute when you go into ‘dad mode.’”

Michael’s lips curved into that easy smile that always made your heart flutter. His eyes, warm and full of affection, found yours, and for a moment, everything else faded away. He reached out, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering on your cheek for a heartbeat longer than necessary, sending a shiver down your spine.

“I just don’t want them dragging dirt into the house,” he said with a chuckle, his voice dropping into that familiar, gentle tone he used when explaining things. “The staff already do enough cleaning around here.”

You smiled at that, knowing how much he cared about the little details, the way he always thought about others—even in moments like this. “I know, baby. You’re right,” you agreed, your voice soft as you leaned into him a little more, feeling his warmth, his strength.

But then, a flicker of something crossed your mind, a small seed of worry that had been sitting quietly at the back of your thoughts. You hesitated for a second, biting your lip before speaking up. “Also… I need to talk to you about something later,” you said, your tone a little more serious now, your eyes searching his for reassurance.

Michael’s smile faded ever so slightly, his brow furrowing just a bit as he caught the shift in your mood. He turned toward you fully now, his hand resting lightly on your hip, his gaze focused on yours. “Is it bad?” he asked quietly, his voice steady but tinged with concern.

You shook your head quickly, your heart fluttering slightly at his worry. “No, no, nothing like that,” you assured him, though the slight nervousness in your voice lingered. “At least, I hope you don’t think so.” You looked up at him, trying to offer a reassuring smile, though the weight of whatever you needed to talk about was still pressing lightly against your chest.

Michael studied you for a moment longer, his eyes searching yours with that quiet intensity of his, as if trying to read your thoughts. But before he could press further, the sound of your kids’ excited footsteps thundered down the stairs, breaking the quiet moment.

“Ready!” your son shouted triumphantly as he reached the bottom of the stairs, his little face glowing with excitement. His smile—wide and infectious—was a mirror image of Michael’s, and the sight of it instantly lightened the mood. You watched as your daughter came bouncing down right behind him, her curls bouncing wildly as she giggled.

Michael’s smile softened as he took in the sight of your kids, their joy so pure and uncontainable it seemed to spill over into everything around them. His eyes flickered back to you, warmth radiating in the shared understanding between you both. Whatever was on your mind, whatever conversation loomed, could wait for another moment. Right now, there was laughter in the air, sunlight on your skin, and a game waiting to be played.

He walked over to the front door, turning the key in the lock with a smooth twist of his wrist. The door creaked open, releasing the kids into the glowing late afternoon, and they were off, practically bouncing down each bricked step with the kind of energy only children possess. Their laughter trailed behind them, filling the warm breeze with a melody that made you smile without even thinking.

Michael’s hand found yours, his grip firm yet gentle as he led you outside. The sun was starting its slow descent, casting everything in a golden, almost magical hue. You felt the warmth of his touch seep into you, grounding you in the moment as the two of you followed the kids down the front steps toward the waiting golf cart. The scent of freshly cut grass mixed with the distant sweetness of blooming flowers from the garden up ahead, and everything felt so peaceful.

Letting go of your hand, Michael reached down and scooped your daughter up with ease, her little arms immediately wrapping around his neck as she giggled. He hoisted her onto his hip, walking toward the golf cart as she clung to him, her curls bouncing with every step. You couldn’t help but smile at how naturally fatherhood fit him, how easily he made moments like this feel special, even when they were simple.

You followed suit, bending down to pick up your son. His small arms wrapped around you tightly, his giggles vibrating against your chest as you held him close. The weight of him in your arms was familiar, comforting. As you made your way to the golf cart, your heart felt full—full of these little moments that seemed so small but meant everything.

Once you settled into the cart, your son perched on your lap, you watched as Michael gently placed your daughter on his. His arms wrapped protectively around her small frame as he reached for the steering wheel, starting the cart with a quiet hum. The breeze stirred around you as the cart began to move, a soft rustle through the trees, the scent of jasmine and honeysuckle filling the air as you made your way toward the garden.

The path leading to the open field was lined with blooming flowers, their vibrant colors a stark contrast against the soft greens of the grass. In the distance, the garden opened up into a sprawling field dotted with trees, hedges, and a few statues—perfect hiding spots for an eager game of hide-and-seek. The light filtering through the leaves made everything look like it was touched by magic, golden and alive.

Michael slowed the cart, steering it off the path and parking it on the edge of the field. The moment the cart came to a stop, the kids jumped off your laps, their excitement palpable as they sprinted across the soft grass, their laughter filling the space like music.

“They’re eager to play today, aren’t they?” Michael mused, his voice low and amused as he watched them dart around, their legs moving faster than they could probably handle.

You nodded, leaning back in the seat for a moment, letting the warmth of the sun wash over you. “They’ve been cooped up inside for the last week,” you reminded him softly, turning your head to meet his gaze. “It’s hard when you’re away on tour.” Your voice trailed off just a little, the weight of those words lingering in the air between you, though there was no accusation there—just a truth you both lived with.

Michael chuckled, the sound deep and reassuring as he shifted in his seat, his eyes still following the kids as they zig-zagged through the field. “Just know,” he said, glancing back at you with a small smile tugging at his lips, “you’re all coming with me next time.” There was a quiet promise in his voice, one that settled any lingering worries.

He stepped out of the cart and made his way to your side, offering his hand as he helped you out. The contact sent a familiar warmth through you, his palm steady against yours as he pulled you up, his fingers intertwining with yours as you both made your way across the field, hand in hand. The kids were up ahead, their little bodies a blur of motion as they chased each other, already caught up in their own game before the official hide-and-seek had even begun.

You smiled, your heart light as you called out to them, “Alright, who’s counting?”

They skidded to a stop, turning to look at you and Michael with wide, expectant eyes. Your daughter, always the first to speak up, shouted, “We want to hide!” Her voice was bright and eager, her curls bouncing with every nod of her head. Your son quickly echoed her, his big brown eyes pleading with you both, already anticipating the fun.

You exchanged a glance with Michael, the two of you silently sharing the same thought: These two were expert hiders. This was going to be a challenge.

“Alright,” you conceded, laughing softly as their faces lit up with excitement. “Go hide. Me and Daddy will count.”

Without another word, they were off, their little legs carrying them deeper into the field, disappearing behind the tall hedges and trees as they searched for the perfect hiding spots.

“Don’t go too far!” Michael called after them, his voice carrying through the warm breeze, though the kids were already too caught up in their game to respond.

You both turned your backs, facing away from the field as you prepared to count. Michael’s arm slipped around your waist, pulling you close to him as his body pressed gently against yours. His touch was firm yet tender, grounding you in the moment as his warmth enveloped you. The two of you began to count together, your voices low and soft, blending seamlessly with the rustling leaves and the distant sound of your children’s laughter.

“One… two… three…” you both whispered, the world around you slipping into a quiet hum, as if even the trees and wind paused to listen to your soft counting. The air was warm, a soft breeze brushing against your skin, carrying with it the faint scent of wildflowers and earth. With each number you spoke, the closeness between you and Michael seemed to tighten, his presence unmistakably warm and grounding against you.

At “ten,” you felt his grip on your waist shift, just slightly, but enough to send a ripple of awareness through you. His hand, firm yet gentle, held you close, the subtle tightening of his fingers against your side making you acutely aware of the playful intimacy hanging between you. His breath fanned softly against your ear, a quiet warmth that stirred something deep inside, despite the innocent nature of the moment. Even in the middle of counting, surrounded by the vast, open field, it felt like it was just the two of you, cocooned in this brief, stolen moment of closeness.

“Twenty-eight… twenty-nine… thirty,” you both finished in perfect unison. For a heartbeat, everything stilled. Michael’s arm lingered around you, his hold neither demanding nor rushed—just a steady, comforting presence. You could feel his chest rise and fall in sync with yours, the solid warmth of him grounding you in the here and now, while your heart fluttered with the quiet tension between you.

Then, as if the world resumed, you both broke away, the game back in focus. With a quick shared glance, you both darted off into the field, splitting in opposite directions as you began your search. The field, with its tall hedges, trees, and statues scattered throughout, felt like a small labyrinth. The sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting playful shadows on the ground, as you moved quickly, eyes scanning for any sign of your mischievous children.

You darted behind a large oak tree, peeking around its thick trunk, expecting to see little feet or hear stifled giggles—but nothing. The kids were good, too good, their tiny frames nowhere to be found. You bent low, checking under bushes and peering behind the elaborate stone statues that dotted the garden, but still, no sign of them. The field was silent except for the gentle rustling of leaves and the distant hum of insects. The quiet was almost eerie, given how noisy the kids had been just moments ago.

As you made your way deeper into the garden, you spotted Michael approaching from the opposite side. His broad shoulders moved with ease as he navigated between the trees, his expression a mix of amusement and mock frustration. He let out a long, exaggerated sigh as he reached you, brushing a hand through his tousled hair. “They’re too damn good,” he muttered, his voice dropping into a soft drawl, a hint of his Southern roots peeking through in his frustration.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his tone, your heart swelling with affection for the man standing before you. “Well, they get it from their own daddy,” you teased, poking a finger playfully at his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath the soft fabric of his shirt. The corners of your lips curled into a smirk as you watched his expression shift, his eyes darkening just a little, amusement giving way to something else entirely.

His gaze locked with yours, and for a second, the playful game of hide-and-seek took a backseat. Michael’s smirk grew into something more mischievous, his eyes glinting with that familiar look of challenge. “Keep going and see what happens,” he teased back, his voice dropping to a hushed, intimate tone, just low enough that only you could hear. There was a warning in his words, but one laced with the promise of something thrilling. His lips curved into a soft, knowing smile, one that sent a small shiver down your spine despite the warmth of the afternoon.

Your breath hitched slightly at his words, but you didn’t back down. Instead, you leaned in closer, closing the small distance between you, your heart beating just a little faster. “I’d like that,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. The space between you seemed to shrink as your lips brushed against his, teasingly light. The air between you crackled with unspoken tension as Michael leaned in, his hand slipping to the small of your back, pulling you just a fraction closer.

He captured your lips in a soft, fleeting kiss, just enough to spark that familiar heat beneath the surface, yet he held back, aware of the playful eyes that might be peeking from their hiding spots. The kiss, though brief, carried with it the weight of affection, but there was something more just beneath it—an undercurrent of deeper emotions, unspoken words hanging in the air between you. It wasn’t just a kiss; it was a reminder of the connection that thrummed constantly between the two of you, an acknowledgment of all that was shared and all that still remained to be said.

As he pulled back, his forehead came to rest gently against yours, and for a second, the world narrowed down to the warmth of his breath fanning across your skin and the steady beat of your heart. His hand lingered at your waist, his touch firm and comforting, grounding you in the moment.

“Let’s go find those two, come on,” he whispered softly, his voice threaded with playfulness, but his eyes told you he was still lingering in the moment, a sparkle of affection shining in their depths. He stepped back, a grin tugging at the corner of his lips, breaking the spell between you just as the faint laughter of your children drifted on the breeze.

You smiled back, the warmth of his presence still lingering on your skin as you both turned toward the field. The soft rustle of leaves overhead seemed to carry their distant giggles, hinting at where they might be hiding.

“You heard them, right?” you asked, your voice quiet but filled with amusement as you listened for another sound from your children.

Michael nodded, his expression shifting from soft to mischievous in a heartbeat. Without warning, he bolted forward, his long legs carrying him across the open field with ease, the wind catching his dark curls and sending them bouncing as he ran. “Baby, come on!” he called back, his voice light with laughter as he moved, the excitement of the game overtaking him.

You took off after him, though with a little more caution. You couldn’t push yourself too hard—not with the news that had been stirring inside you, news that would soon change everything for your little family. You watched as Michael darted through the field, his body moving with an ease and energy that seemed boundless.

Ahead, Michael stopped at a tree—his tree. The Giving Tree, as you both affectionately called it. It had been his favorite ever since you moved here, a towering oak with thick, low-hanging branches perfect for climbing. You caught up to him, slightly out of breath but still smiling, your eyes following his as they scanned the branches.

And there they were—two small pairs of feet, dangling from a perch high up in the tree, their giggles barely contained.

Michael held up a finger to his lips, his eyes glinting with mischief as he motioned for you to stay quiet. You watched as he moved with the same quiet grace he always had, climbing up the tree steps without so much as a sound. His movements were careful but quick, his body fluid as he approached the spot where your children sat, completely unaware of their father sneaking up on them.

You couldn’t help but smile as you watched him. Even in something as simple as this, he was so present, so involved. Then, just as he reached the perch, he leaned in close and whispered, “Boo.”

The response was instant—a chorus of shrieks and giggles as your daughter and son jumped in surprise, their faces lighting up with laughter. “Daddy found us!” your daughter cheered, her voice bright with joy, her laughter echoing through the garden.

Michael chuckled, his smile wide as he gave them a mock-serious nod. “I did, didn’t I? Now, come on down, and be careful—I don’t want anyone falling,” he said, already climbing back down the steps, his feet hitting the ground lightly as he came to stand beside you.

Your son hopped down first, running straight to you and wrapping his little arms around your waist. You bent down to hug him, his small body warm against yours as he nestled close, his excitement still buzzing through him.

Your daughter, though, wasn’t quite as lucky. As she began to descend, her foot missed a step, and before you could react, she slipped. You gasped as her knee scraped against the rough bark, her body tumbling down a few feet before landing on the ground with a painful thud.

“Shit!” Michael shouted, his voice filled with sudden alarm as he rushed to her side. Her cry pierced the air, loud and filled with pain, her small hands clutching at her knee as blood began to trickle from the scrape.

You and your son quickly followed, your heart pounding in your chest as you knelt beside her. Michael was already there, his face a mix of concern and tenderness as he scooped her up into his arms. Her tiny hands clung to his red sweater, her face buried in his chest as her sobs wracked her little body.

“Let’s go inside,” Michael said, his voice a mix of firmness and tenderness, every ounce of his focus locked on your daughter. His arms scooped her up gently but securely, her tiny legs immediately wrapping around his waist as if it were the safest place in the world. She pressed her tear-streaked face into his chest, the dampness from her sobs seeping into his shirt. The sight tugged deeply at your heart, each tear she shed pulling at you, knowing how much she trusted her father’s embrace to make it all better.

You followed close behind, the weight of your son still clinging to you, his little arms fastened tightly around your waist as though he needed reassurance too. You carefully lifted him into your lap as you settled into the golf cart, his head resting against your shoulder. Michael climbed in beside you, your daughter nestled against him, her body tucked into his chest like a bird seeking shelter in a storm. His hand instinctively began to rub soothing circles on her back, his touch gentle yet full of purpose, trying to ease the pain he couldn’t fully take away.

Tears continued to stream down her flushed cheeks, her face buried in Michael’s chest as she whimpered, “It hurts, Daddy.” Her voice, so small and fragile, quivered with the weight of her pain, each word a dagger to your heart.

“I know, babygirl,” Michael whispered, his voice low and calming, like a balm over an open wound. His free hand continued its tender path along her back, his thumb tracing slow, comforting patterns over her trembling shoulders. The lines of worry etched across his face were unmistakable, yet beneath them lay a quiet strength. It was the kind of strength that said, no matter how bad it hurt, he would make sure she was alright.

As the golf cart hummed quietly down the dirt path toward the house, the sound of the engine blending with the rustle of wind through the trees, the atmosphere shifted. The wide, open field that had once been alive with laughter and sunlight now felt heavy, weighed down by the sorrow of your daughter’s tears. Yet, even in this quiet sorrow, there was an unmistakable calm in the way Michael held her, as if his presence alone could absorb her pain.

When Michael finally parked the cart near the house, he wasted no time. In one fluid motion, he turned off the engine, swiftly climbing out with your daughter still secure in his arms. His long strides carried him up the brick steps, the door creaking open as he hurried inside. He knelt, slipping her shoes off with careful hands, before disappearing down the hallway, leaving you and your son at the entrance.

You lifted your son onto your hip, his little body still clinging to you as though the world outside had unsettled him too. His small fingers dug into your shirt as you ascended the steps, each creak of the wooden boards beneath your feet echoing in the quiet. Once inside, you carefully locked the door behind you and knelt to remove his shoes, placing them next to his sister’s in a neat little row.

“Mommy,” he said softly, his voice muffled as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“Yes, baby?” you murmured, your hand smoothing over his soft curls as you made your way toward the stairs.

“Is sissy going to be okay?” His question was laced with worry, his eyes wide as he looked up at you.

You gave him a gentle nod, trying to reassure him. “She’ll be fine, sweetheart. Daddy’s taking care of her,” you said, offering a small smile as you carried him into his bedroom. The familiar scent of his favorite stuffed animals and the gentle light filtering through the curtains made the room feel like a sanctuary.

“You know Daddy always takes care of your boo-boos,” you whispered, helping him settle into bed.

He nodded, his eyes drooping with the weight of sleep. “He kisses to make it better,” he mumbled, his little voice full of trust.

You tucked him in, pulling the blanket snug around his tiny body. “That’s right, baby. Now get some rest. Sissy will be here soon.”

“Okay, Mommy,” he murmured softly, already clutching his plush dinosaur to his chest. You stayed for a moment longer, watching as sleep claimed him, a soft smile playing on his lips. The sound of his light snores filled the room as you stood up, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead before quietly slipping out, leaving the door open just a crack.

As you descended the stairs, your fingers grazed the smooth wooden railing, the weight of the evening settling over you. The house felt still, quiet except for the distant murmur of Michael’s voice from down the hallway. You followed the sound, your footsteps light as you approached your bedroom, the double wooden doors open wide, a soft light spilling out from the en suite bathroom.

Inside, you found Michael crouched beside the tub, your daughter seated on the counter as he carefully cleaned her scraped knee. Her cheeks were still streaked with tears, though they’d slowed, her small hands occasionally brushing them away. Michael’s face was focused, the tension in his jaw giving away the concern he tried so hard to mask.

“He’s asleep,” you said softly, leaning against the bathroom doorframe as you watched them.

Michael glanced up at you, nodding briefly before turning his attention back to your daughter. “There’s something you wanted to tell Mommy, right?” he asked gently, his voice full of encouragement.

Your daughter’s eyes flickered between you and Michael, her expression a mix of worry and hesitation.

“Go on, baby, tell her,” Michael urged softly, reaching into the first-aid kit and pulling out a pink bandage dotted with tiny hearts.

Her voice was small as she finally spoke. “Mommy, can I…?” She trailed off, her fingers twisting nervously in her lap.

Michael chuckled softly, his deep voice a soothing sound that filled the room. “She wants your stuffed monkey that looks like Bubbles.”

You couldn’t help but smile, warmth blooming in your chest. “You want it?” you asked, your voice light.

She nodded eagerly, her face lighting up despite the tears.

Without a second thought, you crossed the room, your steps soft against the hardwood floor as you reached the bed. The plush monkey lay in a crumpled heap near the pillows, its worn fabric familiar to your touch as you picked it up. You turned it over in your hands for a moment, your fingers tracing the stitching of its little limbs, a fond smile tugging at your lips. You returned to the bathroom, where the air was thick with the faint scent of lavender soap and the warmth of steam from the bath Michael had drawn earlier.

You knelt down beside her, handing her the monkey with a gentle kiss on her tear-streaked cheek. Her curls, damp from the remnants of tears and sweat, were soft as your fingers combed through them, smoothing them with the same care you gave her when she was just a baby. “Take good care of it for me, okay? Daddy gave it to me for our anniversary.”

Her entire face lit up, a smile so wide that it seemed to erase all traces of her earlier pain. Her arms wrapped tightly around the stuffed animal, her little fingers gripping it like a lifeline. “I will!” she beamed, the pure joy in her voice tugging at your heartstrings.

Michael stood beside her, his tall frame radiating a protective energy that you had come to depend on over the years. He smiled softly, his eyes filled with pride and tenderness as he watched his daughter’s mood shift. With a touch as light as a whisper, he wiped away the last tear that clung to her cheek with the pad of his thumb, his calloused hand moving with surprising gentleness. “What do you say to Mommy, babygirl?” His voice was low, soothing, almost musical in its cadence.

“Thank you, Mommy.” Her small voice held a sweetness that made your chest tighten with love, her little arms reaching out toward you with the kind of trust only a child could give.

You knelt again, your knees pressing into the cool tile, and pulled her into your embrace. The warmth of her small body against yours filled you with a sense of peace, grounding you in the moment. You pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, breathing in the faint scent of baby shampoo still lingering in her curls. “You’re welcome, princess,” you whispered, your words a quiet promise.

Michael stood there, watching with a soft smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. The dim light caught the edges of his face, casting soft shadows across his features, making him look almost ethereal in his calm. Though your daughter was his mirror image, every inch of her was laced with your spirit—the fiery, unyielding attitude that had gotten you both through so many hard times.

Michael’s voice broke the silence, his tone gentle yet firm as he cradled her close. “Ready for a nap?” His arms held her with the same protective strength he had always shown, though his touch was featherlight as if he feared breaking her fragile peace.

She nodded, rubbing her eyes with a tiny fist, her voice barely a whisper. “Me tired, Daddy.” The sleepiness in her voice was endearing, and you couldn’t help but smile at the way her words slurred together, her exhaustion overtaking her.

“I know, baby girl,” Michael murmured, his voice a soothing balm. He shifted her weight easily in his arms, holding her close as he handed her the plush monkey, its soft fabric cradled between her small hands. “You need your rest.” Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to your cheek, his lips warm and reassuring against your skin. There was a quiet understanding in that kiss, a promise of love and unity. With your daughter nestled securely against his chest, he turned and walked out of the bathroom, his footsteps barely audible as they echoed down the hallway, carrying her toward her room for her much-needed rest.

Alone for a moment, you glanced at the mirror, your reflection catching your eye. You pulled up the hem of your shirt, revealing the small, barely noticeable swell of your stomach—a tiny bump that marked the beginning of a new life, just over four months along. Your fingers instinctively brushed over the curve of your belly, marveling at the thought of another little soul growing inside of you, another precious addition to the family you and Michael had built together.

The sound of footsteps brought your attention back to the present, and you turned just in time to see Michael re-enter the bathroom. His head was lowered, his attention seemingly on his hands as he rubbed them together absently, but when he looked up, his eyes immediately met yours in the mirror. For a moment, everything else faded away—the soft light, the quiet hum of the house, the lingering scent of lavender—and it was just the two of you, connected by something deeper than words.

Michael’s gaze softened, the weight of his focus shifting from your eyes to the small curve of your belly. His lips curved into a slow, gentle smile as if the reality of what he was seeing was just sinking in, a quiet awe settling over his features. The subtle swell of your belly, barely visible but unmistakably there, seemed to captivate him, pulling him into a moment of reflection. His eyes shimmered with the kind of love that spoke volumes, the kind that made you feel seen, known, and deeply cherished.

“Baby…” he murmured, his voice hushed and filled with emotion as he crossed the room toward you. Each step was deliberate, as though he couldn’t quite believe what he was seeing. “When did…?”

The question hung in the air between you, unfinished yet fully understood. You smiled softly, turning slightly to meet his gaze in the mirror, your hand instinctively resting over your growing belly. “I was going to tell you soon,” you began, your voice barely above a whisper, thick with the emotion that came with finally sharing this secret. “But you’ve been so busy, and I wanted to wait until I saw you in person.”

Michael let out a breathless chuckle, the sound filled with disbelief and joy. His eyes fluttered, brimming with unshed tears as he struggled to keep his composure. “Is this what you wanted to talk about?” he asked softly, his voice tinged with wonder. He moved behind you, his warmth instantly enveloping you as his arms wrapped protectively around your waist. The weight of his presence grounded you, his chest pressing gently against your back, and for a moment, everything else melted away. It was just the two of you, standing in this intimate, quiet moment, the future unspooling before you.

You nodded, leaning into his embrace, your heart swelling as his strong hands gently caressed the small curve of your belly. “Yes,” you whispered, the word filled with all the emotion you’d been holding inside. “I wanted to tell all of you, but especially you.”

Michael’s hands stilled for a moment, and his brows furrowed slightly as he processed your words. “Wait, I thought you were…” He trailed off, his voice filled with confusion and hope.

You shook your head softly, your gaze meeting his in the mirror, the reflection of your shared happiness glowing back at you. “I stopped taking it,” you confessed, your voice filled with a quiet certainty. “Especially when you said you’d be back for a few weeks.”

His reaction was immediate—he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the curve of your cheek, a gesture so tender that it made your breath catch. “We’re really going to have a big family, aren’t we?” he murmured, the awe and excitement palpable in his voice.

You smiled, a playful glint in your eyes as you turned your head slightly to look back at him. “We’re stopping at five, though,” you teased, your tone light but filled with affection.

Michael chuckled, the sound deep and rich, his chest rumbling against your back as his arms tightened around you protectively. “Fine with me, baby,” he replied, his voice low and intimate, his breath warm against your ear. “The more kids we have, the more touring I’d have to do—and you know I hate being away.” His hand, still resting on your belly, moved in slow, soothing circles, as if the simple act of touching you connected him even more deeply to the new life growing within you.

You turned your head fully now, your lips just inches from his as you gazed into his eyes. “I know, baby,” you whispered, your voice filled with a mixture of gratitude and love. “But at least I know I have you and the kids. That’s all I’ll ever need.” Your lips brushed against his as you spoke, the connection between you as strong as ever, built on years of love, trust, and shared experiences.

Michael’s eyes darkened slightly, the intensity of his gaze sending a thrill through you as he closed the small distance between your lips. “I love you,” he whispered, his voice low and rough with emotion.

“I love you more,” you whispered back, the words tumbling from your lips with ease, like a vow you’d spoken a thousand times but meant just as deeply every time.

The kiss that followed was deep, slow, and filled with the kind of love that transcended the moment. His lips moved against yours with a tenderness that was both familiar and electrifying, his hands still cradling your belly as if to hold not just you, but the future you were building together. The kiss spoke of years of devotion, of the kind of bond that only grew stronger with time and trials, the kind of love that wrapped around you like a warm embrace on a cold day.

When he finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, his forehead resting gently against yours as you shared a quiet, intimate moment. His breath was warm on your skin, and you could feel the subtle rise and fall of his chest as he regained his composure.

“Shower?” he asked softly, his voice filled with the same tenderness that had threaded through the entire conversation. His hand rested on your belly, the warmth of his palm a constant reminder of the life growing within you, of the family that was expanding beyond your wildest dreams.

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. “Yes,” you whispered, your voice barely audible, but filled with a deep, contented love.

Michael kissed you once more, his lips lingering on yours as his hand continued to gently caress your belly. In that moment, with the promise of a bigger family and the love you shared, everything felt like it was exactly where it was meant to be.

#michael jackson #wattpad #moonwalker #mjf fanfiction #writing #badera #imagine #mjj

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dailysabinasmuts · 1 year

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Normally, getting bent over and plowed in the backrooms of a fancy event would be unpleasant, but for Aria its a dream cum true. She hasnt been properly fucked in what feels like years, so she really doesnt care that she's getting absolutely railed by a stranger. Aria doesnt even bother looking back to see who it is, as long as he's got a functioning cock she will gladly let him use her body. Her tight pussy is gushing with every thrust, clenching around her unknown lovers shaft greedily. Her fat tits flop enthusiastically as she gets pounded relentlessly, and she gropes herself salaciously. Aria feels a febrile heat building in her tummy, and she screams in triumph as she prepares to orgasm-

Aria wakes up suddenly, her nipples raw and chafing, her panties soaked through and theres a spreading stain on her matress. She sighs, it really was a dream after all. Aria rustles around for something, and a harsh buzzing noise fulls her room; before becoming muted as a sloshing sound begins. Hopefully this time she wont have to change her sheets...

#otv smut #aria smut

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breezybangtanbebe · 4 months

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❤️‍🔥Caramel Kisses❤️‍🔥 Hyungwon

Tag: Hyungwon x OC Aria, teasing and some sexy banter, food play and raw bath tub sex 😋

2.1k words

"Open your mouth."

Aria's sultry voice echoes softly in the dimly lit bathroom and steam swirled around their bodies nestled from the waist down in suds.

"Open my mouth, please?" Hyungwon perks his brow and Aria narrows her gaze.

"I wasn't asking.." she responds and Hyungwon chuckles darkly as his eyes fell from her adorably frustrated expression to the glistening melanin that dripped in bubbles and sweat.

A flame flickers in his hooded gaze as she straddled him, her wide hips encapsulating his lithe form beneath her in the steamy bath water.

Her body was something that most men only dreamed of witnessing up close. Superior genetics could be the only explanation for how someone with such a small waist could possess such hips, ass, and thick thighs.

Her breasts were the perfect size as well, hanging naturally and sexily with symmetrically round brown nipples that hardened inches from his face.

"Oh? So we're being difficult tonight, I see..." he chuffs and Aria shrugs one shoulder.

"I don't know what you're talking about. Now do you want this?" She deflects and waves the scorched sugar coated fingers in front of Hyungwon but his eyes don't follow them.

They remain on her face with heat that rivaled the several tiny flames glimmering deep in his dark irises.

"Or not..." she adds and Hyungwon leans back into the slope of the tub, allowing the water to creep over his abs. Looking her up and down, his tongue glides over his top lip slowly.

"You know what the fuck I want....."

The subtle jolt of arousal between Aria's legs at the way that little dirty word rolled from Hyungwon's pretty lips has her clenching and its as if Hyungwon could feel her body needing him as much as he needed her.

The small peaks of bubbles parted as he dipped his hands from her waist to sink below the water.

"Stop playing with me, Baby...I didn't come all this way for sweets..." He rasps.

Hyungwon tilts his head to watch his hands slosh and coast over her supple skin through the sparkling ripples, marveling at the contrast between their differing complexions.

As deep and as rich as the caramel lingering on his tongue against his creamy fairness.

His obsession, beyond her pigment, but the feeling. The soft and smoothness. Not a flaw to be felt but even if there was, Hyungwon would embrace it as perfection.

He loved the way no matter how hard he squeezed her, barely a mark was left. Which only challenged him to try harder. Like now.

He kneads her flesh like a baker kneads his dough and bites his lip at how much of her filled his large hands with every not so gentle squeeze.

A hand at his throat distracts him from her body suddenly, replacing it with her sultry and stern expression.

Aria smirks.

"You'll get more than sweets if you do what I say...."

Hyungwon found her attempts at asserting her dominance cute most times. Thats just the type of women she was and he wouldn't change her. But when his dick was hard and lodged in the space between her pillow soft lips and his tummy, his naturally dominant nature strained to push through.

Speaking of push....

Hyungwon's gaze drops to where their bodies met, admiring the way her puffy pink bud swelled beyond her seam.

Her pussy was so beautiful to him. A Neapolitan contrast of decadent brown and the most vibrant shade of pink he'd ever seen. It was no wonder why he had such a sweet tooth.

Hyungwon's lips part just enough for him to inhale shakily as he pushed her body towards him, forcing her pelvis down and the face of her heat flush against the underside of his dick.

It draws a line up his length, making both of them gasp in unison from the friction. More so a breathy moan from Aria, who had been neglecting the ache down there since mounting him.

"Shit.." she hisses between her teeth and Hyungwon smiles up at her sexily with triumph.

"You were saying?" He perks his brow.

Along with his teasing tone, Hyungwon continues slowly coaxing her to grind against him and his eyes lock on the little waves their motion creates in the water.

After a few seconds, Aria scowls down at him and places her palm between his pecs to prevent him from moving her any higher. Although he was much stronger than her, Hyungwon resists.

"Eyes up here." She commands and he only obeys because her face was probably his favorite place for his eyes to settle next to her pussy.

He waits patiently for her to dip her fingers back into the little jar set on the ledge of the tub. His swollen upper lip spreads into a smile much sweeter than the melted caramel dripping over her knuckles.

"Now open..." she purrs and with his eyes locked with hers, Hyungwon opens his mouth just barely and Aria smears the dollop of caramel over his bottom lip.

His tongue chased her finger tip as it swiped over the small mess she made of his mouth and Aria giggles as she brought it to her mouth suck any remnants away.

Such a tease.

"Hmm...More." Hyungwon says after he'd licked it all from his lips, sounding primal and impatient for something other than her fingers. Aria smirks around the two fingers caught between her lips.

"More..please?" She mimics his chastising tone from before and Hyungwon rolls his eyes.

She'd cut her hair recently, and the long straight hair from before had been replaced by a newly grown crop of curls that spiraled all around her face.

When they were wet, they hung loose and shined against the candlelight in a way that Hyungwon couldnt resist running his hands through.

He leans up just enough to toy with a coil between his fingers, pulling it gently to revel in the satisfaction of watching it spring back into place.

His hand ventures further and as he did, Aria leans into his touch and her almond eyes flutter at the feeling of his fingers against her scalp. This was a level of intimacy he craved the way one would crave the caramel lingering on his tongue.

“See? You don’t have to act like all tough with me, gorgeous. I see you…” Hyungwon purrs with his long fingers still weaving through her sodden curls.

Her soft almond shaped eyes always drew him in and the high bridge of her rounded nose was criminally adorable to him.

And then her lips, the ones he planned to bite the exact way she bit them now.

It had taken some persuasion over time to convince Aria to stay with him tonight. She wasn't the type of woman to tie down and as much she enjoyed her time with Hyungwon, it was more exciting for her to always leave him wanting rather than giving in.

But Hyungwon was a patient man.

"Im not acting. Now open..." she opts to say and Hyungwon complies. His mirrored smirk still plays on his lips as they part for her just enough for her caramel coated fingers to press against his tongue.

His taste buds ignite at the taste of her skin more than the warm confection spreading over his tongue. Lips like pillows wrap around the digits and suck shamelessly as he hummed in approval from deep in his throat as he swallows.

"Mmmmhm.." he growls and the slickness between her thighs mixed naughtily with the water between them and she can feel a pulse where Hyungwon's erection pressed against her heat.

"More." He demands softly and she smirks before leaning in to kiss him. Though he probably meant more of the caramel from the jar sitting in the candle warmer, Hyungwon takes no issue in tasting his lover's tongue. She rolls it against his as well as her hips, rocking her center against his sinuously.

The pads of his fingers dig into her flesh and he earns a startled yelp against his lips that grants him access to deepen the kiss with the tilt of his head.

Water sways higher towards the tubs edge the more Hyungwon rocked her body against his, sliding the girth of his shaft against her pussy at a steady rhythm.

Her clit sings with sensation the more he rubbed himself against her and she calls his name breathily against his tongue.

Until finally, the tip of his dick pushes straight through her entrance and fills her in every way she needed.

Aria pulls back to bask in his welcomed intrusion, her bottom lip scraping between her teeth as he filled her to the hilt. A grunt that was too sexy to be fair juts from Hyungwon's chest and his head falls back to relish in the warmth and tightness that embraced him between her thighs.

She was so perfect for him.

Despite what she thought before.

Despite her denying their attraction.

Despite her resisting the inevitable spark that ignited whenever the two were alone.

They might not ever be together on any official terms.

But she was his and Hyungwon would take his sweet time in unraveling every barrier she held between them. Starting with this.

"Say it..." He rasps against her mouth, steadying his grip on her writhing hips.

He moves beneath her slowly at first, flexing upward and rolling into her. She meets him half way every time and the water surrounding them threatened to overflow onto the bathroom floor.

Not that it mattered.

They were both too deep in the ocean of each others gazes to care about the mess.

"'Mmm..." Aria exhales but shakes her head as she ground against him. Hyungwon could tell that she was resisting. From the way she tried to control his rhythm and how deep he could reach, to how her jaw clenched from holding in the sounds she really wanted to make.

He doesn't respond to her defiance with words but only with his body. The hands at her waist lift from the water and press flat against her back, forcing her chest to press firmly against his, and she yelps at the feeling of him slipping deeper than before.

The water was now splashing carelessly onto the floor, extinguishing some of the candles as Hyungwon upped his ante.

Aria has little range of motion and her only choice is to cling to Hyungwon's sculpted shoulders as he fucks her deep and intimately with his lips teasing the skin of her diamond studded earlobe.

Her entire body tingles with pleasure and excitement as the dominance she fought against took over.

"Say it baby...." His rough and deep voice fills her mind, all while driving himself into her over and over. Her moans and water spilled over endlessly and all it takes is for Hyungwon hit her square on her deepest place for her to finally let go.

"Fuck....Hyungwon..Yes...Hyungwon...Baby...." She whimpers as she came, and her walls squeeze him disrespectfully tight. He stalls for a moment to keep himself from cumming, groaning pitifully with his eyes screwed shut. He turns his head to lean into hers, steadily adorning her throat with open mouth kisses that seemed to merely serve as a distraction for himself.

His dick pulse to the beat of Aria’s galloping heart, her warmth hugging him tight. It wouldnt take much.

One move snd he would succumb to the inevitable. But he manages to delay his release in favor of talking Aria down from hers.

"So fucking beautiful.." he murmurs against her wet skin, dragging his lips from her throat to her cheek before planting the softest kiss there.

His breathing deepens and his hold on her wet body goes slack, but he continues to stroke her, slowly now to allow her to come down from her high.

Only to go right back to pounding into her sensslessly. Her orgasm loosened her body up just enough for the ride to be seamless and he touches her in places even she never reached.

It didnt matter to Hyungwon if he came. That wasnt what he craved most when he was near her. It was only her pleasure he sought.

Feeling her surrounding him in every way possible.

Hearing her voice, whether its to chastise or praise him.

Tasting her, never mattering if it would be her fingers in his mouth or her sex. He needed it all.

He needed her.

Just as much as she'd never admit how much she needed him too.

So as the steam in the bathroom cleared..

The bubbly suds dissipated..

And the water cooled to lukewarm..

Neither of them cared to move an inch as long as they were connected , chasing infinity..

#hyungwon smut #hyungwon fanfic #ambw #monsta x ambw #monsta x boyfriends #monsta x fanfic #changkyun #jooheon #monsta x smut #wonho #hyungwon #shownu #kihyun #minhyuk #hyunwoo #changkyun smut #ambw kpop

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