#adjusting to domestic life???

[utterlyazriel]

alright my tender oozing lil dumplings, now is the time to let me hear all your thoughts !! i'm open to listening to any idea you'd wanna see in the future in wtssf <3 if u had anything in mind, pls let me know !

[levemetal]

We all know and love the AUs where either SY!SQQ or SJ!SQQ get dosed with truth serum and hilariously clear up a bunch of stuff, but consider:

Yue Qingyuan accidentally gets truth serum-ed, said truth serum removes all brain to mouth filters and makes him voice his thoughts a loud.

Not only would this probably lead to him reconciling with SJ and just speaking about the damn cave incident, but also be unbearably honest to everyone else.

I cannot imagine ANY of the peak lords would be able to look at him the same ever again, we all know this man is deeply unhinged and SJ-co-dependent deep to his soul.

Mu Qingfang would probably have to deal with the worst of it as he frantically tries to find some cure so that they don't have to collectively hide their sect leader and stop him from saying real unhinged stuff

[callioope]

The fire crackles in the hearth, just feet away from Essek and yet distant in his mind as he scans the papers splayed out across the coffee table. Somewhere in that background land, a spoon clinks against ceramic. The familiar scent of hot cocoa wafts in the air around him. Footsteps, both human and feline, pad across wooden floorboards and braided rugs. 

Essek shuffles the papers, brow furrowing and finger tapping his chin. “We’re missing something,” he murmurs. 

A mug settles before him in a small patch of bare coffee table, thudding softly against the wood, and the scent of chocolate wafts closer. He doesn’t reach for it yet, but the motion draws his attention towards the nearest papers and he pulls them closer, skimming once more the notes of the smartest mind he’s ever known besides his own. 

“Take a break,” Caleb says, near his ear. Essek wrinkles his nose as the breath tickles his ear, jingling his earrings. 

“We are this close—” Essek protests.

Caleb reaches for the quill from Essek’s fingers. “You haven’t written anything in twenty-seven minutes. Take a break.”

With a huff, Essek pulls his hand away before Caleb can steal the quill. “I am about to,” he protests, putting the quill to the last paper he’d been looking at. A small dot bleeds into a larger spot as he places the quill but doesn’t move it further. His mind stalls at Caleb’s proximity — yes, that’s the reason. Certainly not that he is stumped. No.

“Come, dear, before the cocoa is cold.”

Essek tuts. “Hardly a concern in this household.”

Caleb merely hums, and Essek hears him sip his own hot cocoa. “Mmm,” he adds, to which Essek snorts in response.

But five minutes later, the pages hold no answers — just endless runes, numbers, and letters, rambling musings that circle around the problem but don’t strike at the heart of it. Essek twitches his fingers in the start of somatics, but they fizzle without intent and without the finishing gestures. 

“It is practically easier than a cantrip,” he says, dropping his fist heavily against the table, which rattles the mug. One of the cats glares up at him from her spot by the fire place, her green eye resentful for the disturbance. 

“For you, maybe. We all have our special tricks.” He takes out a polished stone and sets it down on a pile of papers, just as the unnerved cat leaps up from her place on the floor and darts past, rustling the papers before Essek. “I can’t say I could distill this into a spell that any wizard could replicate. And other transmuters know this trick. The same cannot be said for yours.”

“Precisely the problem,” Essek says, resting his elbow on the coffee table and settling his chin into his palm. Entirely uncouth behavior, he thinks idly. Nothing he ever could have done in the parlor growing up. In fact he never used to noodle over problems like this — or use the word ‘noodle’. No, in the before times, the century plus that stretched out before he met the Nein, he properly pondered problems in his meticulous, organized lab. Oh great, now he was alliterating in his own internal monologue.

With a sigh, he sets down his quill and fingers the amber stone dangling from his right ear. “I invented the ability in the first place. I should know how to make it a spell.”

He stands suddenly enough that Caleb jerks in surprise. “Where are you going?” 

“To organize spell components,” he says, maybe a bit haughtily, gathering up the papers to take them to their shared office. He tuts as he enters it, for the first time noting how small the space is compared to the office in his towers, and this new one is shared by two. He knew some lower staff at the Bastion shared office space like this, but he never had. 

He putters around their filing drawers for components, reorganizes his desk while harboring restraint at the urge to organize Caleb’s, and debates the merits of a new cataloging system for the bookshelf.

He has no idea how much time has passed before Caleb tugs him back down to the ground from his float to reach the top shelf, where he was sure he’d stowed his original developmental notes on defying gravity. 

“Liebling,” Caleb pleads, again nuzzling Essek’s ear so that it twitches in response. “Your cocoa is getting cold.”

With a sigh, Essek relents, allowing Caleb to pull him back into the living room. This space is small, too, but that’s not usually the word he thinks when he settles into the threadbare sofa and drapes the quilt over his legs. Cozy is the right word, he reminds himself. And whenever the shared office feels claustrophobic, he must remember that the other mind that uses it frequently expands the ideas of his own. 

He rubs his face, only now noticing the ache in his eyes from reading too many words without blinking. Caleb settles in next to him on the sofa and elbows him to hand him the cocoa, reheated with a signature fire cantrip. 

Essek takes a sip, savors the richness of the cocoa, the steam that fills his head and spreads out to the tips of his ears, and the burn at the back of his throat.

“Oh!” he exclaims, the taste of the whiskey bringing him back to an entirely different time.

“Surprise,” Caleb says.

“This will not help me think,” Essek says, wrinkling his nose but then taking another sip. It reminds him of trust, and friendship, and reunions in a lonely, cold place. But also it reminds him of great feats of magic.

“We altered the fabric of time to rejuvenate our resources,” he says, practically whining. Compeletely unacceptable back home.  “Why can we not create a simple first level spell?”

“Do you ever find writing a one page essay more challenging than a ten page term paper?” Caleb asks, as if posing a philosophical question to his class. Essek huffs. “Well, my students complain of it often.”

“I am not so young and inexperienced as them,” Essek says. 

“And you do not have the deadlines they have, either,” Caleb retorts. “The problem will be there in the morning.”

Essek leans his head against the back of the sofa and stares up at the wooden rafters. “We are on the cusp of breakthrough,” he says. “Is that not what you said to me last week? Hmm?”

Caleb turns and rests his elbow on the back of the sofa, leaning sideways to look at Essek straight on, although Essek does not turn to meet his gaze. “I believe a wise old man talked some sense into me at the time.”

“Impertinent youth.”

With a chuckle, Caleb nudges Essek’s shoulder. “How is the cocoa?”

“Delicious, of course. Did you use Caduceus’ blend? It tastes like—Oh!”

The memories of Aeor jolt something in Essek’s brain, discoveries they had made in the depths there. He reaches for the quill, and his spellbook, and spare parchment, this time sweeping the quill across the paper in flurried strokes as his other hand flips through pages to find his notes from their travels. 

Caleb leans over to read his writing and point out a discrepancy in an equation jotted down too quickly. “I think, though, that you are on to something…” 

He stands and disappears into the office, bringing back several tomes brought back from the ruins. Essek quickly finishes the cocoa as they flip through pages and refine their notes until they coalesce more or less into something resembling a spell.

When several papers spill out onto the floor, Caleb says, “You know, next time I will just summon the tower, we’d have more space, maybe a chalkboard—”

“No,” Essek says, writing the last line of runes and setting down his quill. He stares at it for a moment, the piles of paper sprawled out across the coffee table, the cats curled up in front of the hearth, the mismatched furniture taking up most of the space in the room so that Essek and Caleb have to squeeze into narrow space between the couch and table. He breathes in the smell of cocoa and the hearth. He looks to the dark window where snow accumulates atop the green bean planters. He looks at Caleb’s shining blue eyes, the excitement of crafting a new spell bright with them. 

Essek reaches out to touch Caleb’s forearm. “I would love nothing more than to be here with you.”

With a wide grin, Caleb takes Essek’s face in his hands, and kisses him.

[goodbuttaken]

pár dní zpátky jsem tu vzpomínal maturitu, tak přidám ještě druhý střípek z doby, kdy jsem si připadal nepřemožitelný a všechno nasvědčovalo tomu, že jsem.

that time, kdy jsem z celého seznamu maturitní literatury přečetl jednu (nejtenčí) knihu a u půlky pořádně nevěděl, o čem jsou. můžete hádat, jestli jsem byl nervózní, jaké číslo jsem si vytáhl a jakou jsem dostal známku..

[swordmaid]

shri’iia developing her sunlight sensitivity after the tadpole disappears since the protection it gave (assuming that it’s also protecting them from external factors bc astarion is able to walk under the sun) disappears with it. and struggled to get used to the sunlight because she’s now more sensitive towards it…! everything is brighter, much more sharper - similar to when she crash landed and saw the sun for the first time but this time everything is much more vivid. and now she’s squinting a lot more because everything is bright to the point that it hurts her eyes, and she’s frowning more as well (to which astarion tells her to stop or else she’ll get more wrinkles 🙄) and she’s covered up from head to toe every time she goes outside bc I imagine she gets sun burnt quite easily too.

anyway I think at one point she decides to only go out when the sun is setting so it’s less painful for her - which also works for the both of them since astarion can’t go out under the sun as well lol

[dudeshusband]

i'd love to get up just a bit earlier to make rick breakfast and coffee then prepare us both a little lunch if we're working so we can take it with us

[wild-jackalope]

NSFW links

Including :: Satoru, Choso, Kento, Toji, Sukuna, Yuji, Megumi, Toge, Yuta.

warning :: everything sex.

note :: can you guess who my favs are? All characters are of age.

Satoru Gojo

how he moans — He’s so damn cocky and breathy. Gasping whenever you brush over his sensitive spots, deep chuckling at every cute face you make. You couldn’t make him shut up even if you wanted to, he’s always going to be in your ear telling your what a good girl you are and letting you hear just how amazing your pussy feels.

he just won’t latch off your tit — when you’re riding him he has perfect access to your beautiful tits, how could you expect him not to suck them? He knows you love it when he can feel your cunt flutter around his cock.

he can barely control himself when you first have sex — he’s been waiting so long to have you like this, sitting naked on top of him. He might usually be smooth but now all he can think about is making sure he gives you a good fuck.

vanilla — sometimes vanilla sex is the best kind. He just loves the sight of you riding him with he idly play with your tits. So what if he wants it all the time?

videos — Satoru knows how flushed your get when he sends you videos of him jerking off and moaning your name. He’s away all the time, so he knows it’s the best reminder that he’s coming back to fuck you soon.

joining the mile high club — you’ve fucked almost everywhere. Almost. A plane now happens to fall upon that list.

Choso Kamo

how he moans — chanting please and curses. He’s a sensitive man, so they come out easily when you fuck him. Even when he’s the one on top, driving his cock deep into your soaking chasm, he still moans sweetly. He just loves you so, so much and you make him feel so fucking good. He can’t deny you the sound of his pleasure even if he wanted to.

treating him well — he goes so red in the face when you kiss him while palming his dick. Each time your lips reach his neck he shivers, so happy to have someone treat him so well it’s almost euphoric. Of course he’s stuttering “W-What about you?” Just make out with him until he sees stars.

foreplay — feeling your naked body against his, having his hands slide through your hair and lips move fluidly against yours makes him yearn for you in ways he didn’t know was possible, sure he was already hard the moment you touched him but now he’s aching and twitching for you, leaking pre cum.

he’s so big, but you take him — Choso is always slow, making sure you adjust to the feeling of him being inside you. He kisses your cheek and neck, mumbling praises. ‘You’re too big, Cho.’ You grunt, holding onto his arm. He shakes his head, disagreeing. ‘You’re the perfect size for me, my love, you take me in so perfectly. So well.’

Kento Nanami

how he moans — so lazy and deep. He just can’t stop praising you, loves to tell you how perfect you are between aimless grunts and breathy exhales. He’s a composed man, always aware of how good he’s making you feel so he’s never too lost in his own pleasure to moan so loudly, he’s quiet (unless you’re sucking him till he cums down your throat, then you’ll hear the best of his grunts).

he knows exactly how to get you crying for him — He might never openly admit it, but Kento is obsessed with your meek little moans and he knows playing with your pussy is the best way to squeeze them out of you.

perfect house wife — domestic life makes his heart truely happy, so when he comes home to you wearing nothing but an apron it makes his dick happy too. He just has to touch you and tell you you’re the perfect wife.

playing with you in front of a mirror — he enjoys seeing you quiver and your face scrunch up when he toys with your pussy, in front of a mirror means he can see it all perfectly.

Toji Fushiguro

how he moans — you have to be doing one hell of a good job to get this man to shut his mouth and moan for you. He’s a dirty talker, not a moany little sub. Still, his grunts are quiet and gruff. He’s most loudest when he slides into your gummy pussy for the first time and when he cums inside you.

favourite position — he just loves to pull you onto his cock. After a while, your legs begin to shake so he has to hold you upright and that’s how he knows you’re about to cum. Missionary comes in close second, just because he loves to feel you claw his back.

hate sex — you’re both pissed at each other, so what better way to rid yourself of your anger than to fuck it out? Straddle him, don’t give him the chance to top you, slap and ride him till he cums. Then maybe he’ll learn to respect you more.

when he tells you to ride his face, he means ride it — his lazy ass still wants you to do all the work, rolling your hips against his stunted tongue. He’s grinning, loving the moans you work out of yourself.

the only time he begged for it — you had been sending him some pretty saucy picture whilst he was away. It had been weeks since the two of you fucked and he wanted to see more of you’re perfect body. ‘I want to hear you beg’ you sent, then received a video from him.

Sukuna

how he moans — deep, deep moaning. The type of moan that hides a growl in the back of his throat as it rumbles against your chest. There are times he can get a little breathy, but he’s confident and never loses his cool. He mostly talks you through sex, so you’ll mainly hear grunts between his filthy dirty talk. Sometimes you swear you can hear a bit of Yuji coming through when he moans.

learn to shut your mouth while he fucks you — he calls you brat for a reason, because you love to talk back. When his hand wraps around your throat, you only have room to gasp for breath which is how he prefers you.

gently touching you after sex — post-sex is often when Sukuna is the sweetest. He admires your body, gently grazing his sharp nails over your skin and watching you retract at the tickling touch.

messy sex — there have been times where Sukuna burns for you, needing you in every possible way. He needs your scent, your skin, your hair, your body, your voice. He craves you, leading to a rough and messy quickie that’ll leave you utterly raw.

he has no patience — sure, he might like the idea of watching your fuck yourself on his cock, but in practice you’re much too slow. He needs to fuck you at his own pace, not let you work yourself off agonisingly slow.

keep quiet, brat — you need to learn to control your voice, but no matter how many times he tells you off you just keep hollering his name. So he decides to smack his hand over your mouth to cover up the noise.

even when you’re on top, you’re still a bottom — you were so excited when Sukuna agreed to let you top him. Although you were suspicious that he grunted a ‘yes’ so quickly, you didn’t read too much into it. Only when he had your hands bound behind your back, fucking up into your cervix did you understand he would never let you dominate him.

Yuji Itadori

how he moans — loud and messy. Once Yuji feels your cunt sucking him in the rest of the world disappears. All he can babble out are swears and compliments on how hot you are, how good you make him feel, how much he loves you. If the sex is softer (which is hardly the case), he can maintain composure a little better. He still grunts and swears, but at least the neighbours won’t hear.

favourite position — the way your ass collides with his hips and the defined arch of your back is like a work of fucking art. The sound of your moans muffling into his pillow is something he thinks about all the time. He just hates that he can’t see your perfect face, so please look back at him while he fucks you.

He waited all day to fuck you — you had been riling him up since the early morning; grazing your hand over his thigh and crotch, texting him lewd things, whispering sweet things in his ear. The moment you two got home he cornered you from behind, pressing lustful kisses to your neck and stripping you of your clothes until you both were naked and he had laid you over him.

cant get enough of your butt — he just loves your curves, flat or fat he admires you either way. Planting sweet kisses and mumbling how you were ‘built to make him hard’, whatever that means. He just runs his mouth when it comes to your body.

loves seeing you have fun riding him — the way you playfully hold his hand while you grind into his hips, or the way you break into a laugh when he grabs for your boobs, he just loves to see you have fun, especially on his dick.

no condom? — he’s always forgetting to buy condoms, you guys fuck like bunnies, how is he supposed to remember how many you two use up? You refuse to have a pregnancy scare, so you’ll just fuck him over layers of clothes.

Megumi Fushiguro

how he moans — Megumi starts off pretty balanced, but when things start to get intense he fluctuates between high and whiny to low and gravely (he’s especially embarrassed about moaning so high, so he tries to hold it back). He also doesn’t particularly enjoy being vocal, but a few physical and verbal prompts from you will get him in your ear.

you asked so nicely — he tells you he’s close and that he’s gonna cum, and how could he resist the urge to fill you up when you ask him so kindly to cum inside you? He’s surprised, but when you beg again he knows he can’t deny your sweet request.

nervous to touch you — he isn’t used to much physical affection, but he wants to touch you so badly. He loves to hear your gasps when his hands start to wander, so despite not being exactly sure what to do he’s eager to learn and memories the feeling of your body.

so kind to your cunt — the way he drags his tongue across your wet lips, making his saliva mix with your slick and creating a sloshy noise each time he repeats the motion. His narrow eyes gaze up at you, watching you throw your head back before closing and letting his sense of taste take over.

fucking you slowly — he’s never ruthless, especially when you want him to be. He moves his hips at his own pace, playing with your clit and enjoying the way you squirm for more.

Toge Inumaki

how he moans — He makes up for the lack of talking by grunting deliciously each time you make him feel good. The louder he is, the better you’re doing and the closer he is to cumming. Even when the focus is on you he’s still making noise, grunting each time you grind against his tongue, or tighten around his fingers.

sucking you sweetly — it’s pretty clear Toge has an oral fixation by the way he sucks your neck, your pussy and especially your tits. He especially loves your boobs, so they get special treatment.

pause your game — ‘I’m busy’ you say, that is until he’s parted your legs, hot breath patting your clothes sex. You try to keep playing, just to tease him further but his mouth feels so good that you can’t help moan and watch him eat you out. You’ll finish the level another day.

payback — you come over to spend time with him, only to be met with the back of his gaming chair. You’ll just have to give him the same treatment he gave you when you were too busy for him.

helping hand — leaning against his naked chest, going weak against him as he rubs your clit, occasionally dipping his fingers inside your pussy.

Yuta Okkotsu

how he moans — loud, weak moans. He’s so sensitive, he can’t help but whine in your ear as you fuck him. It’s not like he’s embarrassed either, Yuta loves to lose himself in your pussy and let you know how good it feels. You tell him he deserves to feel this good and it makes him sob pathetically.

shivering underneath your grip — he’s just too sensitive, you might go slowly for him just so he can relax but your skin is so soft, you’re gripping him so firmly and your breath hits his cheek. It’s all too overwhelming that he can’t help but tremble.

next best thing — you weren’t planning to end up fucking Yuta, but the two of you had gotten so heated whilst kissing. Neither of you had brought any condoms, so you decided to give him the next best thing and grind your pussy onto his cock whilst he moaned your name.

you fit perfectly on top of him — nothing else can compare to your lips moving like honey against his whilst his cock sits safe and warm in your pussy.

[gremlingottoosilly]

I met a guy in the Summer (dilf!Konig x fem!Reader)

Your boyfriend is an asshole. Luckily, his hot dad just returned from deployment. CW and Tags: Cheating, dub-con, size kink, daddy kink, age gap(reader in 20s, Konig is early 40s), Konig is a pervert, slightly obsessive Konig, love(and lust) at first sight, fingering, dom!Konig Word count: 3713 AO3

“Just one more game, babe, don’t be a buzzkill. I don’t want to end at a loss.” You didn’t want to be a buzzkill, of course. You simply wanted to be a good girlfriend, have some domestically cozy date, and for your boyfriend to at least try to put an effort into being with you. It wasn’t much to ask for, really. You hoped so, at least. You didn’t want to be an annoying, nagging girlfriend who only ever waits for another reason to yell at him, but your patience started to run thin. 

You spend the past three hours either listening to his apathetic rambling about the shows he watched – really, you wanted to invest in stuff he liked, but an abnormally large amount of animes he talked about had 1000-year-old girls who looked like they were 10, wearing inappropriate outfits, and you started to raise the alarm. 

You also watched him play – and also listened to his rage quitting and angry voice messages to his team that, honestly, made you slightly anxious. You never liked loud people, people who were so easy to rage about something as silly as some colorful video game with too many characters to look after. 

So, like a good girlfriend would – you wanted to be a good girlfriend, he was such a nice guy before you started dating, and you need something to think about besides the tremendous amount of study work you are doing for college – you decided to go and look for snacks. Maybe bring something for him as well. 

— I’ll find something to eat, alright? 

He didn’t respond at first, so you shook his shoulder. Your boyfriend took off his headphones with annoying look on his face, half-turning to look at you. You gulped, suddenly feeling like a child in front of the principal – not a feeling that you were supposed to feel around your partner, but with him, you somehow constantly felt like you were being judged. 

— Nah, stay here. I don’t want my father to see you. 

— Ah…your father is at home? 

You never heard anyone else being at the house – big house, you must admit, and it’s embarrassing almost how you never thought about his family. He lives with his dad, apparently, and the depth of your relationships can only be judged by the fact you literally didn’t know what his father’s name was. 

— Returned from his fucking deployment. He’d ask too many questions about you. 

— You didn’t tell him about me? 

Ah, now you’re hurt a little bit. You knew it wasn’t anything serious or too committed yet, but you intended to make this work. To try and fix all the problems you can without ending things abruptly. 

— He never asked. Not like he cares too much, but…

An apathetic dad, huh. 

You started to slowly piece together the puzzle that was your boyfriend’s horrible boyfriend skills. Now, you want to meet the man who conceived him and kick him in the nuts for creating such an unlovable human being who somehow captivated your chronically lonely heart. 

— If you don’t want me to come and meet him, I can go home. 

He doesn’t answer because his queue is finally coming to another match – you simply nod, knowing everything you need to. You can grab a little snack for yourself, fuck off to your dorm and rethink your life choices while your roommate is getting pounded by some gruss British bloke with an accent that makes your ears bleed. 

You have dignity, and right now, it has asked you to get some snacks from the kitchen. 

*** Now, the only thing König wanted after returning from deployment was to take as many hot showers as he could, shut his bastard of a son up, and get some delicious food waiting for him in the freezer. He was already home for a few days, but adjusting is always hard when you basically fucking hate living at your own house. Of-fucking-course, his son was watching the house while he was away – and now he can’t even think of a good excuse to set him off to his mother. Too old to do this, and split custody never really worked when not even one part of the relationship wanted to take care of the kid. 

König closes the door of the refrigerator – of course, his son took every good thing that he stashed for himself. With a groan, the colonel fights the urge to finally throw him out of the house – a thing he needed to do a few years ago, just when he celebrated his 18th, but some sentimental part of his heart instead promised to help with finding a place close to the college. No good deed goes unpunished. 

With a groan, he takes a few steps from the fridge – and then he almost stumbles across an angel. 

Scheisse

Now, König never thought of himself as a predator who prefers running after college girls who might as well be his daughters. He never thought of himself as a gut who liked them young – his wife, god forsake her name, was his age when they started dating, and he hardly had any sexual encounters with a person under 25 in the past few years. Well, not like he had any sexual encounters in the past years, but…

The thing is – he never thought he liked girls with wide eyes, pouty faces, and trembling hands who were holding a bag of his cookies that he carefully stashed away from his son. 

You are wearing something cute, a nice skirt and an adorable pink cardigan that looks so cozy and warm and soft, and he fights the urge to grab your skirt and simply lift it, You’re dressed up for a cute coffee date, and König has to double check if he isn’t dreaming and no one has decided to play a prank on him and send him a cute callgirl. 

— Oh! Sorry. It’s yours, isn’t it? 

You give him his cookies back – but not before your fingers fished another salty caramel goodness out of the bag, and you bit it. He looks at your teeth, at your lips, and glimpses of your tongue – god, he is an old, dirty bastard because even his baggy pants aren’t enough to hide his boner. You have no right to look this pretty for a man who hasn’t seen a woman in three months and hasn’t had sex in the past few years. 

You lick the crumbs from your fingers – it’s such a deliberate action that he can’t believe he actually sees it, and it’s not even something from porn he used to like. 

— Ja. You can have it. 

He would give you the code to his bank account if you asked for it. 

— Thank you, sir. I’m…well, I assume if Paul didn’t introduce me to you…I’m his girlfriend. Nice to meet you. 

You lick your lips and take a step back, pressed against the counter. He looks at the sway of your hips, a bit of crumbs on your shirt, and almost brushes it away with his hands. It would be a good excuse to touch your chest – but he can’t be like this, he has to keep his urges under control, or else his son will never forgive him. 

Yeah, like he needs a better reason to throw his useless son from his home. 

— Girlfriend? He never spoke about you. 

You look sad, and he immediately curses under his breath. For a moment, you look too fragile – too real. He can’t handle this look on a woman, especially as pretty and young as you are. You bat your eyelashes, even involuntarily, and he already prepares to give you the keys to his home just so you’d stop with such miserable expressions. He has a spare bedroom. 

He has his bedroom with a bed that would be enough for both of you. 

— Ah. Um. We’re…I guess we’re not at this stage yet. 

— Knowing him, you’ll never be, Schatz. 

You look at him immediately – you’re offended, angry, and sad at the same time. There is a certain stubbornness in your eyes that immediately makes him want to simply scoop you in his arms, lift you, and drag you straight to the altar – and here he thought that his impulses over getting married would be over after his first divorce. 

— What do you mean by this, sir? 

You look uncertain now, he can see this in your eyes – and really, knowing his asshole of a child, he is almost sure that Paul never once got you off, either physically or emotionally. 

Now, König never once considered himself to be a good man. He has killed countless people, overthrown many governments, and made shitty jobs for shitty people way more than saving hostages to help the good guys – and in the romantic field, it’s even worse. Wife, unsatisfied with his controlling tendencies and inability to feel normal love for a human being – and a son who hates him because, in fact, he never once wanted to have a kid. 

He looks at you and sees a pretty young thing, still in college or freshly out of, probably without a stable job and normal social standing – a good girl won’t be with his son if she isn’t stupid or extremely desperate for a relationship. 

The thing is, König is also extremely desperate for another warm body next to his, to feel a woman beside him, to love and obsess over someone – he looks at your pouty lips and shaky hands, at the way you bite the corner of your glossy mouth, and he almost wants to drop you on this very table and fuck you until you’re crying under him. He can’t do just that, of course. It would probably make you extremely uncomfortable and scared, but…well, quite frankly, his son doesn’t deserve you. 

König is. 

— I won’t sugarcoat it, Schatz. My son is a Scheiß Arschloch…fucking asshole, that is. I’m surprised he brought home someone as cute as you. 

You feel embarrassment collecting in your body. Paul’s dad is a…interesting man. 

Tall, broad, very muscular – even his baggy house clothes aren’t really concealing his extremely interesting physique from your eyes. He looks yummy and tasty, and you fight the urge to eye the bulge in his pants because you’re a good girl, you don’t look at your boyfriend’s dad like this. 

König has greying ginger hair, locks already curling slightly at the lack of cutting, and you fight the urge to sit on the counter and get your palm in his scalp, massage his head gently, and pull him closer for a kiss. You feel like a dirty, horrible woman – your boyfriend is in his room, probably enjoying his time on your “date” while you’re lusting over his father. 

Then again, this date already felt like a disaster. This relationship, too. 

— Paul isn’t all that bad, sir. 

“He at least has a nice dick,” you wanted to add but stopped yourself. Paul is tall and somewhat strong – if he weren’t sitting at his computer all day, you would call him even muscular. And he has a nice dick, yes, even though he had no idea how to use it. You liked the idea of laying with him, of spraying your jaw trying to fit all of this in your mouth, but his kinks and his sex skills being directly taken from porn…not really your thing. 

You look at König and wonder if they are similar in all of the places. He is his father, after all. 

König catches your gaze locked on his bulge and smirks. 

God, if he knew his son had such a cute girl, he would ask her to come earlier. He is two weeks off deployment and probably won’t take another long contract for a few months because they just upped his retirement payings, and he can afford to slack off a little bit, only visiting the home base for some training and instructions for rookies. 

He can afford to retire and never worry about money again – but he needs someone to make his days less boring, right? 

You look like a good candidate. 

— I’m sure my son was convincing, but I know him better than anyone. He doesn’t deserve you, Schatz. 

He is shitty at flirting, it’s not his forte – he can flaunt his money, maybe, show you in his wallet and bank account face first. He can just straight up ask you to be his sugar baby and suck his cock instead of doing your studies, but he can’t flirt and manipulate to save his life. Lying isn’t something he is good for, this is why his wife has left. 

— I…not sure we should be having this conversation here. 

You’re a good girl, and it’s infuriating. He knows that having someone in his bed shouldn’t be the end goal for his leave, but he wants you, and by the look on your face, you aren’t opposed to the idea. König doesn’t understand if he likes that you’re so reserved about it or if he wants you to be a bit more slutty – but he captures you in the space between the kitchen counter and presses you with his body. 

— You want to see the bedroom then?

Pushes you so close his knee gets between your legs – it might look involuntary like he didn’t exactly want for it to be placed here, but you aren’t dumb, you know what he wants from you. Like a good fucking girl, you’re too shy to give it to him right about now. God, sometimes he hates being so nice to people around him. 

— Sir, this is very…

He got you caged in his hands, body trapped in his embrace – you jerk your head upwards a little bit, staring at him like a small bird in the hands of a predator. He isn’t a strong man in regard of morals, he doesn’t see anything wrong with fucking his son’s girlfriend – if the girl is up to it. And if she isn’t…well, he better make sure she is. 

— What is it, Schatz? Paul won’t hear us in his headphones.

You know just how wrong it is, and you almost want to escape – his dick grinds on your pelvis through his pants, and you’re horrified to see how big it is. Excited too, of course, he is bigger than your boyfriend ever could be, and you don’t want to be a slut, but, oh well, not like you were in a committed and serious relationship anyway. 

Paul was seeing your friends more than you ever saw them – it’s probably a sign that you should settle for someone older. You did enjoy Lana Del Rey's songs, after all. 

— I don’t want to break his heart. 

— He doesn’t have one. 

You’re lost when he pushes his lips to kiss you over and over again – a surprisingly good kisser, and you give in because it was the first time in forever a kiss made you feel this good. His lips are sending electricity down your spine, you want to moan just from his knee, pushing on the softness of your cunt through that adorable skirt you liked so much – you feel so small like this, so tiny in his hands, you…

God, you feel like a slut, and you like it. 

Soon enough, you answered the kiss, your lips meeting his in a dance that made you feel hot, that made you feel like your boyfriend never could. Never thinking of yourself as someone who can fall so easily into the hands of an older man, now you know that he got you right where he wanted. 

You push your hand on his pants, trying to get the control back – but he stops you, a giant hand enveloping your wrist and pushing you back. With a surprise on your face, König just wants to kiss you all over. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that you deserve way more than being fucked on the rough kitchen counter while your so-called boyfriend is too busy dickriding his friends in some useless online game. 

— Not now, princess. You deserve better than being fucked on the kitchen counter, ja? It can come later. 

“Later” sounds like a promise, and you bite back your moan when he keeps pushing his knee against your cunt, making you throb and clench on nothing. He is such a gentleman, you can’t help but compare him to his son – and his fabulous ability to make you feel dirty after fucking you in the backseat of his car and tossing you to your dorm with your pussy still wet and messy after you didn’t cum. 

You sob, not from sadness, but from pleasure mixed with some weird, unnatural for you emotions – you feel weird, strained here like this, but you hug his neck and whisper something in his ear. Something, dangerously sounding just like “daddy, please” 

König is blushing, and he looks fucking adorable. 

— Daddy, ja? God, you’re dangerous, liebling. Going to get me in trouble with my son later. 

He laughs when he kisses you again, his hand slipping in your panties only to find them completely soaked – he knows you deserve a nice pillow and soft sheets under your body, and he pushes you up so you can hug his waist with your legs. You rely on him like a cute pet, and you’re so perfect in his hands he curses himself for not seeing you before. 

He is going to ruin you for anyone but him. Put so much cum in you, it will make your tummy bulge – make you his precious sugar baby, pay for your dumb college and make you move to his bedroom instead of some shitty dorm you probably share with four other people. 

He can be good for you – but he will ruin you for anyone else, anyone appropriate, every guy your age who clearly doesn’t know how to treat a lady right. 

— So wet for me…such a filthy thing, I didn’t know my son dated a whore. 

— N…not a whore, please…

He kisses you on your forehead, silently apologizing. You feel his crooked, scarred smile, and you push your face up to kiss him – you want to touch him so badly it makes you feel stupid. 

— Sorry, Schatzen. Not a whore, a good girl for her daddy, ja? So nice for me, too fucking young…

— W…we really shouldn’t… — Tshhh, don’t think about it. Thinking will only hurt your pretty dumb head. — I’m not…

— Quiet, little one. Let daddy handle everything.

He kisses you over and over, his fingers playing with your pussy – meaty digits digging in your hole, making you whimper from sudden intrusion. He is big, bigger than anyone else, just two of his fingers are enough to spread you as much as normal cock would, and even though you’re used to taking Paul’s size, you just know that his dad would be much, much bigger. He is going to split you open, and you will love every fucking second. 

It feels so wrong, you still aren’t sure if you want him to touch you like this. 

It feels so right, he is experienced and eager, pushing every button to make you squirm in his grasp. Your orgasm comes embarrassingly quick – maybe because you haven’t gotten off in ages, only miserable masturbation sessions and poor attempts at faking your orgasm made it feel real. Paul never cared enough to actually get you off – but now…

You aren’t ready for him. You squirm in his grasp when the pressure becomes too much, and he soothes you, two fingers still buried in your soaked cunt. You feel so dirty, so wrong right now – you are cumming on the fingers of your boyfriend’s absent father, and you love every second of it. 

Post-orgasm clarity makes you whiny and sobby, and you whimper in his shoulder when he gently lifts you in his hands. God, you’re adorable, and he knows that he just scrambled your brain with that orgasm – it’s good, really, he might just want to keep your pretty head nice and empty for him. Not like you would ever need to think in his presence, the colonel can handle everything in- and out- of bed. 

König holds you close, not allowing you to scramble away no matter how embarrassed you are. You are his precious thing, with a pouty face, and he will do everything in his power to make you squirm on his fingers again and again before he makes you his wife for good. 

So impulsive, maybe this is why his son is such an asshole – taking the worst traits of his father. 

— Don’t cry, Schatzen. You’re okay, it felt good, didn’t it? 

— W…we shouldn’t have. Shit. I’m sorry, it was a m…god, I need to tell Paul. 

— I’ll tell him. 

— No! — I will tell my asshole of a son that you’re my girl now, ja? And then I will take you to the bedroom, so we can fuck. 

— I need to return to my dorm. 

— And then I will dine you properly, okay? Sorry, Liebling, I know I should court you before all of this…but we can afford to go a bit off board, ja? 

He is smiling, so smitten and obsessed over just having you cum on his fingers once – you don’t have the heart to say no. Never did. You’re a good, proper girl, and Paul was never treating you right anyway. You feel dirty, yes, but somehow, it is almost right. 

He peppers your face with kisses, like a dog lapping its tongue all over your skin – you’re so concentrated on the warmth of his strong, seasoned body that you don’t even look in the direction of the doorway to the kitchen. 

Paul, however, looks straight at you, disheartened and shocked. 

— W…what the fuck, dad?! König laughs, kissing you once again – deep, hot, with tongue and loud, sloppy sounds of your mouth pressing into one another. You’re stuck in place, still caged in his arms like a precious little pet you are. 

— She’ll make a good step mom, ja? 

You don’t even register his hands slowly caressing your fingers as if he already tries to check the ring sizes. 

[saintobio]

daddy’s little devils.

when dealing with not only one, but two mini versions of your husband is a type of chaos you never saw coming. but with him by your side, there’s nothing else in life you could’ve ever wished for.

pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader genre. domestic fluff, slice of life, explicit smut cw. dilf!sukuna, profanity, explicit smut, mommy/daddy kink, breeding kink, fellatio, spitting, unprotected, creampie, 18+ notes. 4.5k. just bcos i had to write dilf!sukuna version of this fic. enjoy >:D i was smiling throughout writing this! reblogs are highly appreciated!

Sukuna as a husband was unexpectedly romantic. Despite his cold and indifferent demeanor towards others, sometimes bordering on snarky and arrogant, he displayed a surprisingly soft side when it came to you. A really, really soft and incredibly clingy side, one where he always wants you by his side and becomes grumpy the moment you leave him alone for even a few minutes, claiming and whining about how you no longer love him. That was a hidden facet of his personality that no one else knew, a side that made him appear submissive to his wife rather than the other way around. 

But to be honest, you loved that about him. You absolutely, with all your heart and soul, adored that about him. 

However, Sukuna as a father was quite the mischief-maker. And having to deal with three versions of him in your life certainly didn’t make things any easier. 

“Ryomen Sukuna… your sons,” you exclaimed, your voice tinged with exhaustion as you burst through the front door, “are a menace.”

Your husband was lounging on the sofa when you came home, an iPad in hand, watching as you kicked off your shoes and juggled with your bag and the twins’ belongings.

“Hey, baby,” he regarded you with a bemused expression. “What did they do this time?”

You didn’t even know where to begin. In all honesty, the question should have been: what did they not do?

“Ugh! My head hurts.” As soon as you released the bags onto the floor, you sank onto the couch, frustration evident in your visage as you ran a hand through your hair. “Raiden stabbed a classmate in the back with a crayon,” you recounted in disbelief, “And Ryuji drew your ‘tattoos’ all over himself with the teacher’s marker.”

Right on cue, the two little devils—his twin boys, his exact carbon copies—barreled into the house like the troublemakers they were.  

“Papaaa!” the twins chorused, leaping into their father’s lap the moment they saw him. 

Sukuna’s smirk blossomed into a grin, clearly amused and somewhat proud of his mini-me’s. “Aww, look at my little tattoo artist!” He applauded with amusement as he carried one twin on his lap. “That’s awesome, Ryuji!” Then, he turned to Raiden, who awaited his praise as well. “And Raiden, Mama said you stabbed someone? I bet your classmate was being a jerk, huh? Good job!”

The twins and their father bonded over the mischief, with Sukuna ridiculously acting as an instigator rather than reprimanding them. Just when you thought things couldn’t get worse. Was he actually entertained with this whole ordeal?  Jesus. You shot Sukuna a glare, finding the situation far from amusing. And as soon as he caught sight of your serious expression, his face softened into an apologetic stance, silently mouthing the word, ‘sorry’.

“Ryo, stop monkeying around,” you stated firmly, crossing your arms. “They’re causing trouble, and you do realize I had to endure a lecture about their unacceptable behavior, right?”

Only when he noticed the genuine concern in your voice did he shift his tone slightly, though you could see a hint of playfulness remaining. With your husband clearing his throat and adjusting in his seat, it seemed like he was merely putting on a show of being a ‘strict dad’ in front of you, while secretly shooting winks at his sons as if to say he was just playing around.

“Alright, alright,” he began putting on an act, addressing his twins, “You two are grounded. Go to your rooms. Now.”

Instead of showing any fear, the twins giggled as they dashed out of the living room without a care in the world—their tiny footsteps echoing all over the house as they ran recklessly. They didn’t even listen when you shouted at them to be careful. And now you couldn’t help but cross your arms, clearly dissatisfied with how your husband handled the situation in jest.

“Baby, come on,” he coaxed, drawing you closer and enveloping you in his strong embrace. You could feel his chin resting on your shoulder as he placed a kiss on your cheek. “I understand your frustration. They’re naughty when they want to be. But you have to admit, they’re showing some… initiative.”

Raising an eyebrow, you watched as he struggled to suppress a laugh at his own words. “Initiative? They’re supposed to be learning how to share and play nice, not how to terrorize their classmates!”

“Right, right. Of course,” he murmured, attempting to ease the tension with a gentle massage on your shoulders. “I understand. I’ll have a talk with them, mommy. Let’s not get angry now.”

The dilemma here was your desire to maintain the facade of a strict mom, to avoid the embarrassment of picking up your kids from daycare for causing yet another trouble. You loathed the judgmental stares from other parents, the silent accusation that you and your husband weren’t disciplining your children properly. It was as if they viewed you as terrible parents. Like you didn’t raise your kids right. 

At first, their opinions didn’t bother you; after all, they knew nothing about your family beyond the PTA meetings you’ve had to attend. But time and time again, after having to offer countless apologies to the parents of your sons’ classmates and the teachers who had to deal with them, their scrutiny was starting to get into your head—that perhaps you weren’t as strict as you thought. Perhaps you were too lenient. Perhaps you needed to assert your authority over your children so they’d learn to listen to you.

Yet, despite your resolve, you couldn’t resist the charm of your twins. They were just too adorable for their own good. And, well, their dad wasn’t exactly lacking in the charm department either.

With a sigh, you leaned against his chest. “I just want them to grow up to be good, not little terrors.”

Sukuna tenderly lifted your chin, planting a soft, affectionate kiss on your lips. “I promise, they’ll turn out great. Let’s not be too hard on them.”

~~

You had to acknowledge Sukuna’s efforts and give credit where it’s due. After he had promised to ‘talk’ to the kids, you did notice a marked improvement in their behavior since then. You and your husband used to take turns picking up the twins from daycare, but recently, he had insisted on doing it more frequently than you, saying that as his latest project had been completed, he now had more available time to pick up the twins after work.

You suspected the real reason behind his request was to alleviate your stress from constantly dealing with your sons’ antics. Knowing him, Sukuna also wanted to gauge the current atmosphere at the school by having conversations with the teachers and other parents to ensure there were no issues like bullying or other serious matters. 

With that solution in place, Raiden and Ryuji became much less of a handful, and the main reason being the reward system that Sukuna had implemented for the kids, where he promised to buy them expensive toys if they earned stars for good behavior each week.

So that was how it went for the next two weeks. No calls from distressed teachers, no calls from concerned parents. In fact, the twins eagerly showed you their progress and proudly displayed the stars on their hands each time they received them. You couldn’t help but swell with pride at their accomplishments, because as small as they were to some people, they were huge achievements for you and your husband as their supportive parents. 

At least, you could relax for now. With the twins having toned down their mischievous shenanigans, your mind was more at ease. To be fair, they might seem like little devils wherever they went, but when they were peacefully sleeping like they were now on the couch, they appeared as absolute angels in your eyes. 

The living room was bathed in a dim light, with the glow of the TV screen illuminating their cute, little faces as they snuggled up together on the couch, in their peaceful slumber sandwiched between you and your husband. They had dozed off before the movie ended, and now, with the credits rolling, your family movie night concluded earlier than expected.

“My precious babies,” you cooed in a hushed voice, gently stroking Ryuji’s cheek and planting a kiss on Raiden’s nose. Their eyes, their brows, their nose, their lips—every detail was taken from their father, and nothing from you. But you didn’t mind, because you knew just how strikingly handsome they would be when they grow up. “Looks like our little troublemakers couldn’t make it to the end of the movie.” 

Sukuna chuckled softly and glanced down at his sleeping sons with a fond smile. In holding his family close, he could feel that blissful warmth flooding his heart at the sigh of his wife and his kids snuggled together. “They’re tired today. Didn’t even last an hour into watching Megamind.” 

You smiled, carefully rising from the couch so as not to disturb the sleeping twins. The moment you caught your husband’s eye, you gestured for him to lift Raiden into his arms. “Let’s get them to bed.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He nodded, scooping up Raiden, while you lifted Ryuji, and together you carried your kids to their room. 

After tucking each twin into bed and giving them a final kiss on the forehead, you motioned for your husband to quietly exit the room with you. He was still adjusting the AC for their comfort before following you out close behind. The lights in their room now completely switched off. 

“They’re out like a light,” Sukuna whispered as both of you made your way towards the master bedroom. 

You stifled a yawn, stretching your arms. “Finally, some peace and quiet.” 

“Nuh-uh,” countered your husband, who was now grinning mischievously as he stopped in his tracks and grabbed you by the waist. “Not so soon, wife.” 

Before you knew it, you were pressed against the wall, a mere few inches outside your bedroom’s door, caged between your husband’s toned arms as he looked down at you like a lion looking at its prey. His animalistic gaze never failed to send you into an orbit of weakness, like always. “H-Hey.” 

A teasing smirk then appeared on his handsome face. “You know, babe, now that the boys are asleep, we could really make good use of this time.” 

“Really, now?” You held back a chuckle, cheeks heating up from the wanton desire on your husband’s eyes. As you crossed your arms and leaned against the wall, you didn’t realize that such action only caused him to go even crazier than he already was. 

“Dammit.” His eyes danced in lust as he stared at your cleavage when you crossed your arms. He had good self-control, too. That was… until he couldn’t resist it anymore. He had to have his hand squeeze one breast gently, fondling the rounded mass like they were his personal stress balls. “Are you ovulating, honey? They look huge.” 

You weren’t sure as it had been while since you tracked it, but your breasts did feel heavier lately. And sore, too, because he was kneading them. “Hmm. I might be expecting my period soon.” 

Very playfully, Sukuna leaned forward to trail kisses along your neck, his warm breath tickling your skin as he spoke, “What do you say we add another one to the bunch?” was his whispered suggestion, “A little girl, maybe? I know a few positions.” 

“Are you serious?” You raised an eyebrow, trying to suppress a laugh. “With these two little devils wreaking havoc, you still want to add more chaos to the mix?” 

His finger was already looping around the strap of your nightgown, pulling it down with a salacious upward curve of his lips. “You know you love the chaos, babe.” You could feel his hands moving to grab a handful of your buttocks, squeezing your bum eagerly. “Plus, imagine all the mischief our little girl could get up to.” 

You couldn’t help it either—the desire, the tension. Not to mention, your husband was looking undeniably hot right now, with the muscles on his chest pressing against yours, making you want nothing but to see him shirtless again. Those toned abs, those muscular arms. God. His lips were also soft and sweet when he pulled you into an open-mouthed kiss 

“You are,” you mumbled in between kisses, breathing heavily against his mouth, “very naughty, mister.” 

You felt him smirking through your kiss before he grabbed your thighs, and lifted you up so you could wrap them around his waist. The kissing, the very intense kissing, with his tongue rolling against yours and you moaning against his mouth, was already as erotic as it could get. When was the last time you two had sex? Last week? You couldn’t remember which specific day it was, but you did recall it being only a quick one in the shower. This time, it definitely wouldn’t be a quickie as he seemed to have plans in giving you a sleepless night. 

Sukuna carefully placed you down in your king-sized bed, pulling his shirt off and once again crawling above you to hungrily meet your lips with his. And did you mention he was a good multitasker?  As he nibbled on your lower lip, breathing you in like you were an addicting drug he couldn’t get enough off, his fingers were also rubbing your clothed entrance, pulling your underwear to the side to touch your moist cunt. 

“Mhmm—!”

Two fingers entered you without warning, and he pulled away from the kiss to look at the face you were making as he used his digits to find your sweet spot. “You’re so fuckin’ hot, Y/N.” 

You arched your back, spreading your legs wide open to give him full access to your core. The moment he was able to reach your g-spot, you could feel your lower abdomen coiling from the intense wave of pleasure that was coursing through your body. “Nghh—yes, daddy. That’s it!” 

A few more pumps, hard and fast, had you gasping for air like a fish out of the ocean. He seemed to have loved the sight too, as he kept his dark, sultry eyes fixed on you while he fingered you like there was no tomorrow. “You’re one hot mama, aren’t you?” he asked, withdrawing his fingers and sucking on them to taste your slick. “Can I fuck your mouth, baby?”

“‘Mmkay,” you answered, pulling yourself up to help him rid himself of his pajamas. The sight of his bulge—his big, angry bulge—made you all the more excited. You had seen him many times before and knew just how huge his member could grow when aroused, but it still didn’t change the fact that seeing his fully erect cock surprised you every single time. Because it was thick, it was long, it was meaty, it was veiny. “Gosh, lovey. You’re huge.” 

He obviously liked hearing that. Not only did you inflate his ego, it also made him desire you even more as he positioned his shaft on your face, pulling your hair into a ponytail. “Open your mouth.” 

Like a good girl, you did as told. And your eyes went wide as he forced his cock inside, thrusting balls deep in and out of your mouth. He was doing it roughly to the point where your eyes pooled with tears because your gag reflex kept on fighting back. You couldn’t even taste him properly because your saliva was coating his entire length, but you couldn’t stop yourself from smiling in satisfaction as you watched your husband throw his head back from the utmost pleasure of being inside your mouth. 

“Ah, fuck. Fuck.” He cussed multiple times, jostling his hips before pulling his member out. “Your mouth’s so warm.” 

For a moment, you replaced your mouth with your hand, an elbow propped on the other as you stroked his girthy length. You jacked him off at the pace you knew he preferred, and placed your tongue flat on the swollen pink head like it was a lollipop. You were kissing the tip with your eyes staring back at him, ultimately driving him into insanity. “Like that, daddy?” 

“Fuck yes,” he grunted, his vulgar thoughts now consuming his actions as he grabbed your chin up, only to then spit in your mouth. “I’m gonna get you pregnant tonight,” he declared in a deep, raspy voice, “Gonna fill up that pretty little pussy with my cum.” 

Damn, he’s serious about it? 

As embarrassing as it may sound, you could feel your pussy clenching from his lewd words. “You want a baby girl for real?” 

Your husband lowered himself down to meet your level, undressing you impatiently like a rabid dog who was ready to bite its victim. And in your naked glory, he then spread your legs apart and rubbed his shaft in between your labia. “I do,” he said, puppy eyes hoping for you to say yes, “I want a baby girl, please. Please. Please.” 

Could you even resist this man? 

You gave him an answer by nodding, holding your smile by biting your lower lip as you watched your silly husband reach through the nightstand in search of the lube. Because he was too crazed with excitement, a couple packs of unused condoms fell out of the drawer as he grabbed the strawberry-colored tube. 

“Take it easy. Jeez,” you teased. 

“You’re driving me nuts here.” 

You decided to tease him even more by touching yourself, your fingers doing circular motions on your clit as your husband coated his entire length with the water-based lube. The smell of artificial strawberry permeated through the air, and with it being your favorite scent, you felt more stimulated than ever. “Mmm. I want you inside me now, lovey.” 

“What mommy wants, mommy gets,” he joked, manhandling both your legs into placing it above his shoulders and putting you into his favorite position. The classic missionary. “Ah, shit.” He buried his member agonizingly slow. “Why… are… you so damn tight tonight?” 

Maybe because you were clenching around his cock, squeezing his angry member with your velvet walls and giving him that extra good grip he always went absolutely wild for. “A-Aah! Y-You love it.” 

“Fuck, yeah.” He began thrusting now. Using his thumb to spread your slit apart, he delighted in seeing his cock go in and out of your entrance, watching the full length be swallowed by your cavern entirely. And he was going from slow and sensual, to rough and fast in less than a minute. 

He was just far too deep inside. Now, you were losing hold on your sanity as with every jostle of your body, your insides were also reacting more and more violently with your knees and thighs shaking. The skin slapping sounds were bouncing across the room, and you were hoping, praying, that your soundproof walls worked well enough not to wake your innocent twins. Because at this rate, you were going to squirt all over their father. It had been sometime since you felt the need to pee during intercourse, but that also speaks of just how intense Sukuna was plowing his hardened cock inside of you. 

“D-Daddy, I… I’m…” 

He attached his mouth on your right tit, playing his tongue around the nipple. “Mhm… You’re so sexy, mommy.” 

Two little boys. And your husband still won’t stop until he gets his little girl. 

Your mind was a whirlwind that night. The events that followed became such a blur because your pleasure overpowered your ability to think straight. All you could remember was Sukuna releasing his warm load into your womb after chasing his climax, and immediately after, he had your body twisted around and positioned into what he refers ‘the undefeated’ doggy style. 

Gosh, he was telling the truth when he said he was going to fuck you all night with no breaks in between. 

Because now, you were on all fours, being pounded from behind as you had your hands gripping the sheets each time he propelled his body forward. He was shoving his cock from behind like it was his day job, already familiar with the perfect angle and depth in which he had to rut you in. With his hands holding your hips in place, he raised one leg on the mattress, and the other knee still intact, to fuck you senseless. 

“Mmm—Aah! Haah!” 

The deeper he penetrated you, the lower your upper body went. You were now in a position with your chest down low, and your ass up high so that he could see your hole in a much, much better view. “You think you can take ‘nother round after this, babe?” he asked, breathless as he reached forward to squeeze your tit. “I don’t wanna push your limits.” 

“I-I don’t t-think I c-can…”

You could hear his deep chuckle despite your frenzied state, and soon enough, he was increasing the speed of his thrusts once more, cursing and moaning while doing so, before shooting thick ropes of seed inside your cunt. 

He collapsed next to you right after that, while you were completely limp in labored breaths as you lay beside him. The feeling of his semen dripping out of your pussy had you reaching for your husband’s arm, pointing towards the box of tissue with your half-lidded eyes. You were too sore to move. 

Sukuna immediately got the cue. “I got it,” he said, pecking your lips before doing the task of wiping the mess on your body. And as soon as he was able to clean you off, he quickly went back beside you, pulling you into a sweet, husbandly embrace. “Good night, beautiful.” 

You hummed in your drowsy state, his chest becoming the perfect pillow for your head to sleep on. “Night, night, handsome.” 

~~

Good lord was his body sore. 

But was that the greatest fucking sex he has ever had? Hell yes. It was so good that he even dreamed of it. 

As the morning sun streamed through the curtains, the aftermath of your passionate night was evident in the tousled sheets and sleepy smiles that you both had that morning. He still had you in his arms, your body secured around his as he pressed his lips into your temple. 

“Good morning, my love.” 

You stirred awake, blinking sleepily as you stretched beneath the warmth of the covers. He could tell you were still groggy from last night’s events, and he was a hundred percent certain that you were also too sore to walk. “Morning, lovey.” 

But before he could savor the domestic moment with you, the bedroom door burst open, and a fully awakened Raiden and Ryuji came in with their energy back at 100%. Oh, boy. Sukuna just had to forget locking the door last night. 

Raiden, in his polka pjs, was jumping up and down excitedly. “Mama! Papa! Wake up!” 

He was joined by his twin brother, Ryuji, who was in his striped pajamas, skipping around the room. “We want pancakes, pwease!” 

Sukuna could feel you stiffening next to him, and he saw the look of panic in your eyes upon realizing that you were very much naked under the sheets. So, hastily and frantically, your beloved husband pulled the duvet, covering your chest from being exposed and hoping to conceal any tell-tale marks. 

“Shh! Keep it down, boys,” he reprimanded the twins, “Mama and Papa are still sleeping.”

The stubborn Ryuji placed his hands on his hips. “But you’re awake, Papa!” 

On the other hand, Raiden, who climbed the king-sized bed, was pointing towards his mother. “Mama, what’s on your shoulder?” 

At the sight of the marks, Sukuna’s eyes widened in alarm and his cheeks were limned with a crimson hue. His mind raced for a plausible explanation because those exact bruises on your shoulder were, in fact, hickeys. So before you could speak, he took it upon himself to handle the matter. “That... It’s, uh, a battle wound.” He mentally kicked himself for such a ridiculous lie. “Mama’s very brave, you see. She fought off a giant mosquito last night.”

You stifled a laugh, burying your face into the pillow for a moment, and later deciding to play along. “That’s right,” you agreed, nodding seriously. “Mama’s a warrior.”

Raiden and Ryuji, however, were too smart for this as the twins exchanged skeptical glances, clearly not buying their parents' explanation. And with Raiden being the more vocal one, he pointed it out first. “But why does it look like a bunch of tiny kisses?”

Sukuna struggled now, and while he was still thinking of another excuse, you finally stepped in to try and save the day. 

And thank the heavens, you handled it a lot more casually than he did. “It’s a secret,” you said, smiling at your kids, “Mama and Papa have a secret game they play sometimes. Right, Papa?”

Your husband quickly joined in on your little antic. “That’s right, it’s a secret game! But it’s only for grown-ups,” he clarified to the curious twins, who were clearly intrigued by this mysterious ‘game’. “You two aren’t old enough to play yet.”

The twins exchanged curious glances, their skepticism giving way to fascination. “Okay,” Raiden said slowly, still pondering the explanation. Ryuji just shrugged, accepting it more readily. 

Only then did Sukuna breathe a silent sigh of relief as he was grateful for your quick thinking. But with children like these two, the interrogation was clearly far from over because Ryuji decided to make things even more complicated when he picked up an unused packet of condom on the floor, its bright red color attracting his interest. “Mama, is this candy?” asked your son, pointing to the strawberry logo, “Can I have it?” 

“No, sweetheart, that’s not candy,” you softly spoke. The composure in your voice was outstanding. Sukuna should definitely learn a thing or two from you. “Give it to Mama.” 

And while you dealt with the other twin, Raiden jumped out of bed and tugged at his father’s arm persistently. “Papa, pancakes!” he demanded, throwing a tantrum as he chanted. “Pancakes! Pancakes! We want pancakes!” 

“Okay, okay!” The father sighed inwardly, shooting you a look for help as if he was their slave for the day. All you could do was chuckle and mouth ‘you got this’ back to him. Well, he didn’t have much of a choice, did he? “Coming right up, you little monsters.” 

“Yayy!” 

“Woohoo!” 

You, barely handling the noise at six in the morning, groaned playfully next to your husband. “See? Having another kid isn’t as easy as you think,” you told him, “We can barely handle these two.” 

Sukuna displayed a grin, running a hand through his hair as he looked at his wife and your little ones. “Boys, do you want a baby sister? Yes or yes?” 

Raiden and Ryuji, in unison, answered giddily. “Yes! We want a baby sister!” 

A look of defeat clouded your eyes, while your husband laughed and kissed your forehead. “You heard them, love,” he reminded, softly, “I want my baby girl soon.” 

He knew that, despite your playful protest, having a daughter was a shared desire. “Fine.” 

So in swift movements, your husband slipped into his pants beneath the covers, then got out of bed to scoop up the twins in his arms. “Alright, breakfast time you two!” he announced, heading towards the door with his sons cheering together. And just before leaving, he cast one last tender smile in your direction. 

“I love you, Y/N. Chaos and all.” 

[silverskyeline]

ੈ♡˳ domestic life with old man logan. old man logan x gn!reader

♡ domestic life with logan is slow, peaceful. mornings involve him grumbling, tossing in the sheets as you nuzzle against his side. he's sure he'd be content here, with you, forever if he could. you draw mindless shapes on his chest and he traces his calloused fingers up and down your arm as he adjusts to the land of the living.

♡ you often find him in the kitchen in the morning, shirt unbuttoned, white tank underneath with his belt half done and a mug of coffee in his hand and his phone in the other. he's squinting at it, always insisting he doesn't need his glasses. but you place them on the bridge of his nose anyway, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek while he mumbles something about them being useless.

♡ there's not always time for home-cooked meals from him, but when there is, he'll have countless cookbooks scattered across the kitchen. pots will boil over, curses barking from his lips, a towel draped over his shoulder as he fusses over the meal he's trying so hard to make for you. he should know by now you'd be content with scraps, as long as he'll bless you with his company.

♡ on free days, you both rest on the sofa. logan is propped up with his feet on the coffee table, book in hand, glasses sliding down the bridge of his nose he'll occasionally push up. you're curled up beside him, head in his lap as he rests the book on the top of your head. he cards his fingers through your hair in soothing motions, causing your eyes to flutter shut under his gentle touch. sometimes he'll read to you too, in bed, the rumbling baritone of his voice comforting you like no other.

♡ on rough days, the days logan struggles to drag his weary heavy bones from bed - you're there for him. he doesn't like to be pampered, refuses that kind of treatment no matter how hard you try, so instead you're suggestive, careful in your words - or forgo words entirely. there's a coffee waiting for him on his bedside table, there's already a bath run when he enters the bathroom, you're already on the sofa with a movie he likes ready to play when he enters the living room.

these silent admissions of love and care fill his heart with more warmth than he's known in a long time, and he wonders what he ever did to deserve you, while you think the same of him.

♡ on your rough days, logan is there every step of the way. he knows you're sick before you do, it's one of the perks of having the senses he does. he can't help but fuss over you in a way that he'd never let you return. his hand would press to your forehead continuously, checking your temperature, pulling you in against him on the bed as he insists you need to rest. a man who's lost as much as he has would never take any risks.

♡ logan is terrible at texting, but he does it for you. he'll send you an 'x' to let you know he's arrived at work safely. if you're lucky, he'll send a picture of something that reminds him of you, a place name or a dog he's passed that he knows you'll go crazy for. you're on his mind more than he'll ever admit, at least to anyone but you.

♡ he'll kiss you like a man starved when he returns home from work - or sometimes it's those slow, sensual, 'make you weak at the knees' kind of kisses, a kiss that tells you he really missed you. logan's hand will thread up your hair behind your head and take root there, his other hand a firm grip on your waist as he tastes what's his. "missed you," he'll mutter against your lips, eyes closed as if he can't face your loving gaze, like he doesn't deserve it.

for the 'old' prompt for logantober <3

[thinkinonsense]

POSITIONS𑁍

old man!logan howlett x housewife!reader

cw: oral (f receiving), fingering, bit of fluff, soft logan *mdni

wc: 900+

a/n: next mini-series will be inspired by the album positions by ariana grande. if you would like to be added to the tag list comment below. not sure how many parts yet but I hope you enjoy!

part two

home has always been a sore spot for logan. the mutant never had much of a place he could truly call home. always on the run, never somewhere long enough to enjoy it. now in his old age, he's been granted the life he always longed for.

"lo, come try this!" his little wife, calls to him in the kitchen.

the sight of you and your cute apron mixing ingredients could bring logan to his knees; and has on many occasions. how did a dangerous fucked up man like him end up with the sweetest girl in town? every day, you're in the kitchen learning new recipes while looking all dolled up for him.

the part that always gets logan hard is knowing you want to do this for him. you were smarter than anyone he'd ever met yet, you loved the simple domesticity of your life with logan. you knew when the two of you met that he craved an older lifestyle that you didn't mind adjusting to. logan thought that you were truly heaven-sent.

"think i finally got the recipe right." you held out a spoon for him. logan groaned at the taste, his hands resting on your hips, pressing you into the countertop slightly. "whatcha think?"

"think it might be the best frosting you've ever made," he mutters against your skin, leaving kisses along your neck and jaw.

"that good?" you smile, licking the rest of the spoon clean.

logan watched with dark pupils, grinding himself against your ass with every little moan that slipped past your lips.

"might just be the second best thing you've let me taste," he admits, forehead falling into your neck to catch his breath.

"second?" you tease, turning around to face him. "what's the first, baby?"

you claimed you weren't a mutant but logan thought that was the only explanation for how quickly you managed to bring him to his knees. his big rough palms caress your thighs, squeezing whatever he can—whatever he wants— until he slips them under your pretty light green dress.

logan stares at eye level with your white lacy panties and the large wet stain forming in them. he's got you sprawled out on the countertop with both legs dangling off his broad shoulders, heels digging slightly into his shoulder blades. your dress and apron were bunched up at your stomach.

"isn't she pretty..." logan says to himself, hooking them to the side to get a better look at your exposed pussy. he blows cold air directly on you. a loud whine falls from your lips as you claw at the edges of the counter and attempt to wiggle your hips in the air.

"lo, please..." you beg, looking down at him as he slides the thin material down your legs and spreads you as far as he can.

"you've been such a good girl, sweetheart." logan praises, letting his thumb circle your button slowly in a way that leaves you needing more. "so obedient and versatile, aren't ya'? one minute you're cooking me dinner and the next you're begging to ride me."

you nod, lazily; trying to enjoy every movement he makes.

"think you deserve a reward." he hums before lapping up your wetness, swirling his tongue in downright sinful ways.

not only did you taste as sweet but the little noises that escaped you were even sweeter. a hand of yours laced itself in logan's grey hair, tugging him impossibly closer until his nose bumped your clit, making you sing like a bird. didn't help that logan let his most primal side show, moaning into you and making a complete mess of you.

"so needy, isn't that right, honey? just leakin' for attention." he says, talking to your pussy rather than to you directly while teasing a finger at your entrance. "makin' a mess all over me."

logan pulls back to spit on your pussy; sending your head flying back against the countertop.

"fuck..." you moan, left hand groping your own tit. "feels sooo good, lo.."

logan catches the light off of your wedding band while you squeeze yourself. this kickstarted something deep inside of him. even in the filthiest of moments between the two of you, you managed to fill his heart with love. his mouth returns, drinking you up like water. you flooded all of logan's senses; he could hear your heart thumping in your chest, smell how badly you needed him, and taste how he made you feel.

"taste like fuckin' candy," he growls, adding another finger to hit that spongy spot deep inside of you over and over again.

"please..." you purr, looking down into his almost black eyes. "so close.."

logan could feel you clenching around his fingers; practically suffocating them. his moans vibrating your core didn't help slow down your climax either. all of it crashing into you at once.

"there's my pretty girl," he smirks, still fingering you through your orgasm. at this point, you didn't care what part of you he was talking to anymore; all you wanted to do was kiss him.

"need you, logan." you whine, tugging at the collar of his shirt until he's face to face with you.

logan assumes that you want him to fuck you; undoing his belt as quickly as possible until you stop him.

"gimme kiss."

there you were with your dirty apron, wild hair, and pouty lips begging for a kiss. who was logan to deny you such a request? his soaked beard scratched against you with passion as his tongue entered your mouth. his big hands cradle your face delicately.

logan wasn't a good man by the textbook definition but he'll be damned if he didn't treat you as good as you deserved.

[logansdoll]

I have so many ideas but I'm not a talented writer so here's one

-your logans wife pre striker you get taken by striker after logan gets shot as a way to kinda get back at him. Logan always had visions of a woman that he doesn't remember glimpses of domestic bliss. When striker attacks (in x2) striker name drops or says smth like "your wife has been waiting" as a way to antagonize logan.

Also, a cute detail to add if a fic takes place before he loses his memory would be the reader to call him james

I really love how your reader in has a plant mutation. Everything you write is just so good

I hope I wasn't to detailed feel free to take bits and pieces.

contingency

running through the base at Alkali Lake, Logan stumbles across a top secret room... only to find his whole entire world inside.

CW: suggestive, profanity, takes place during X2, has some elements from X-Men Origins: Wolverine, reader has been through some shit, Logan is so relieved, you don't really need to squint to see the angst, i'm iffy on how this turned out, etc.

'Think, dammit! What the hell was he talking about?'

With a roar of frustration, Logan unsheathed his claws, sprinting around the bend and slicing right through the stomach of a nearby soldier, waiting until the man fell with a disgusting plop before continuing on his way.

Why couldn't he just remember?

He knew that, for whatever reason, his memories had been tampered with, and that he couldn't recall anything about his life before the claws.

But ever since his run-in with Stryker back at the mansion, he couldn't help but feel like he was forgetting something especially important.

Something crucial.

"Wolverine..." Stryker grinned, eyes widening stepping forward out of the shadows. "I must admit, you are the last person I'd expect to find here."

Logan's claws revealed themselves with their signature shink, his brows furrowing as he warily stalked closer.

"How long has it been? Fifteen years?"

Stryker let out a small chuckle, but Logan was having a hard time finding what was so funny.

In fact, he was having a hard time with everything about this man—confused as to why he seemed so familiar.

"(y/n) says hello," Stryker goaded, adjusting his glasses. "Or, at least... I believe she would... If I'm being honest, she's feeling a little under the weather at the moment."

A sadistic smirk settled on his lips, his eyes glinting with sick satisfaction.

"But then again... there's seldom a time where she isn't feeling under the weather these days..."

"DAMMIT!" Logan barked, slamming his fist into a wall.

Not knowing was tearing him apart.

Who was (y/n)?

What were you to him?

And how the hell did he end up on the complete opposite side of the compound?

All questions that he furiously wanted to be answered.

Though, somehow—through his fit of blind frustration—he managed to stumble across a door, which had printed in big, bold, yellow letters:

CAUTION: KEEP OUT. HYDROSTASIS IN PROCESS.

"Hydrostasis?" Logan cocked a brow.

He didn't know why, but whatever was housed inside seemed to be pulling him in, silently urging him to open the door and investigate.

'Fuck it.'

Using one claw, he stabbed the retina scanner, the thick lock clicking with a satisfying beep.

He pushed past the door with ease, entering a seemingly large, dark, and oddly cold room, a lamp on one of the workbenches the only thing illuminating the space.

Cautiously, he approached it, sniffing and snapping his head around to make sure he was alone.

Yet he knew he wasn't.

He'd caught whiff of a faint scent emanating from somewhere further into the room, but it was so familiar, it seemed almost instinct to pay it no mind.

For some reason, he knew it wasn't hostile—and if anything, it calmed him, soothing his spiked nerves.

Reaching the table, he found that right next to the lamp laid a file labeled EXPERIMENT 25-8: CLASSIFIED.

He snatched it up with lightening speed, quickly skimming over the latest entry.

EXPERIMENT 25-8 a.k.a Weapon X Contingency

Name: (y/n) (l/n) Age: Unknown Sex: Female Height: X" X Weight: X Rank: Class 5 Report: 25-8 reviles authority. But her connection to Weapon X and general strength makes her a perfect candidate for Project Contingency. Her mutation and overall will to live have rejected all known forms of mind control. Will be kept in hydrostasis until new methods found. Conclusion: Further research required. Could possibly be the only creature known to man that can stop the Wolverine besides the Wolverine himself.

"(y/n)..." Logan tested out the name, confused as to why it sounded so natural.

So home-like.

Looking away from the pages, he glanced down at the table, catching sight of a large switch not too far away.

Without hesitation, he flicked it, the lights in the room suddenly cutting on, along with the lights to your chamber.

And there you were right before him—unconscious and floating in vibrant blue water.

Looking upon you, it felt like he was suddenly hit by a freight train, years of love, care, and warmth flooding his mind.

"James!" you squealed, unable to dim your smile as he hoisted you over his shoulder. "Put me down!"

"Not a chance," he smirked, carrying you toward your shared bedroom. "You know what you did..."

"No..."

"C'mere. I need a taste tester," you smiled, cupping your hand under your fork as you held up a chunk of steak.

He grinned, placing down his newspaper and taking a bite, groaning at the good taste as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

"Well?" you asked, nervous.

"Baby..." he paused for dramatic effect, wanting to see you squirm. "This is the best damn steak I've ever eaten."

"You ass!" you scoffed, playfully slapping him in the shoulder as he laughed, rocking you back and forth.

"I can't..."

"I love you, y'know that?" he asked, holding you close as you both relaxed in the bathtub. "I feel like I don't tell ya enough."

"You tell me every day, baby," you smiled, looking up at him as you rested your back against his chest.

"Well, then," he smirked, his hand rising from the water, holding a beautiful diamond engagement ring. "You alright with me tellin' ya a little bit more?"

Your eyes went as wide as saucers, and you gasped so loud the neighbors (which were three miles away) would certainly hear.

"YES!" you squealed, scrambling to turn around and give him a kiss, the water sloshing around violently.

"Careful, hon! You're gonna knock me out the tub!" he chuckled, steadying you as your lips began peppering kisses all over his face.

"She can't..."

"James," you started, timidly, tracing mindless shapes in his chest as you both laid in bed. "That man you told me about... Stryker... he came by the house today."

Logan tensed at the name, his grip around you tightening.

"He didn't do anything, did he?" he asked, tone rising.

"No," you shook your head. "But he asked for you. Said it was important that you come and talk to him."

He sighed, taking your hand in his, smoothing his thumb over your knuckles.

"I'll go over tomorrow. Straighten everything out," he assured.

"I don't think you should," you quickly denied, nervous. "This man... I don't trust him... He gives me a bad feeling, y'know?"

He cracked a small smile, placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"I promise you, he can't do nothin' to me that hasn't already been done."

"RAAAAH!" Logan roared, blindly slashing at the table and all nearby equipment.

How could he have ever forgotten you?

Fury consumed his being in every sense of the word, the anger swelling inside him in a way he had never felt before.

Sparks flew as Logan destroyed any and everything in his path, teetering on the edge between rage and regret.

He could remember so clearly now.

You were his world—his reason for drawing breath, his reason for existing.

No matter how bad things got—angry, frustrating, or lonely—you were there.

You were his escape, his safety, his peace.

Comparing his life from before to the current, he couldn't fathom how he'd survived so long without being in your presence.

Through his slicing, he managed to cut something important, a loud warning siren blaring before all the water began draining from your pod, rapidly pouring onto the floor.

With a loud hiss, the door opened, sending you falling out the chamber.

Logan rushed over faster than he'd ever done anything, catching you in his arms and cradling you bridal style.

He looked upon you as if you were a ghost, a figment of his imagination.

After years and years of separation, he was finally allowed a chance to see your face, now able to recall all its fine details with perfect accuracy.

The softness of your cheeks.

The kindness of your eyes.

The plumpness of your lips.

Suddenly, you let out a loud cough, spitting up some water as your eyes snapped open, frantically looking around.

Logan couldn't find the words.

The love of his life was sitting in his arms and after fifteen years... and he had no idea what to say to her.

"James?" you asked, weakly, disbelieving of the sight before you.

That's right!

James!

His name was James!

"Yeah, baby..." he nodded, bitter-sweetly, getting a bit choked up. "It's me—"

You threw your arms around his neck without a second thought, pulling him into a bone crushing hug as tears began pouring down your cheeks, your shoulders shaking with cries of relief.

"I thought you weren't coming!" you sobbed.

Your throat felt swollen as you stuttered, scrambling to say all the things you've been wanting to for so long.

"Oh, God, I love you, Jimmy! I love you so much! Please don't leave me again!"

"I'm so sorry, baby! I'm so, so sorry!" he sputtered, his hand finding home in your hair as he rocked you back and forth, stray tears escaping his eyes. "I shoulda been here! I shoulda protected you!"

He buried his face in your hair, peppering the side of your head with kisses.

"I love you so much, honey... I'm right here. I'm not goin' anywhere."

Suddenly, you went limp in his arms, panic and fear spiking up his spine.

"(n/n)?!" he pulled back, frantically scanning over you to see what was wrong."(y/n)?!"

Quickly, he pressed his ear against your chest, thanking whatever god in heaven that your heart was beating.

'It might be a side effect of the chamber... or maybe she's tired...'

Without warning, the entire compound began to shake, a familiar blue devil popping up next to him out of nowhere.

"Zere you are!" Kurt exclaimed, quickly grabbing onto his friend. "Vee must go! Zee place is goink to flood!"

In an instant, the three were back with the others, the mysterious woman in Logan's arms posing a question to everyone.

"Logan?" Ororo raised a brow, confused, as they began running toward the exit.

"Who the hell is that?" Scott asked, much blunter than Storm intended.

Logan looked down at your peacefully sleeping face, brushing a stray strand of hair out your face.

"She's my wife..."

bonus !!

"SHE'S YOUR WHAT?"

[wandasaura]

THE COLORS IN AUTUMN, SO BRIGHT

summary — when the weight of your anxious thoughts becomes too much, wanda knows just how to ease all your worries

warning(s) — established relationship, essentially cowgirl!wanda, mommy kink, dom/sub dynamics, praise kink, use of petnames, body marking (hickies), biting, verbal teasing, teasing, begging, ever so slight dumbification, condescending tone, fingering, orgasm control, eventual orgasm, oral fixation, slight lactation kink (no milk), subspace, aftercare, soft mommy wanda, domestic wanda, men/minors dni

authors note — welcome to kinktober gremlins! and a very happy birthday to my enemy, @esouliie.

kinktober

The sunset was soft as it fell upon the quaint little cottage you resided in with Wanda on the outskirts of a town that welcomed you eagerly. The burnt orange glow casted shadows against the walls painted a delicate eggshell, etches of tempting darkness stretching across the mantle harboring styrofoam pumpkins and wooden decorations sweetly. The interior of your home had been effectively tainted by fall since September’s end, and the alluring illumination of sunbeams brought on a sense of profound ease that gripped at your spine and aided in the release of pent up stress. You’d long since abandoned a life of constant maneuvering, settling down on the few acres of land you could snuff out that wasn’t tremendously out of reach from the bustling city. You’d given into the ease of married life, submitted to the sensation of truly belonging, but there were still factors that piled up, and romantic bliss could only alter your habits so much before the woman that you’d been before came crashing back onto you. Only now you didn’t have to handle her alone, didn’t have to dwell in seemingly eternal darkness, didn’t have to find your way out single-handedly. She’d be there to guide you; to break down all of the walls that turned you cold until all that remained was her pliant, easily agreeable girl; her baby. 

When Wanda came inside through the always unlocked front door, kicked off her mud splattered boots in the doorway with ease, you noted the basket of freshly laid eggs in her hands and smiled lazily, half-heartedly, unable to give her anything more than that despite the overwhelming joy that surged through your under stimulated nerves at the sight of her so broken down by rapturous domestication. You never had to tell her when life wore you down, because somehow, she always knew. You knew that you’d conveyed all that you needed to in the simple tired smile you offered when her nose scrunched upwards, her head tilting to the left as she cooed softly. The basket of eggs was discarded onto the side table to be dealt with later, you her main priority now. 

“Hi, my angel.” She greeted sweetly, her lips, still warm from the exposure to unconcealed daylight, brushing against your temple which was equally warm from the weight of a cozy blanket thrown over your curled up frame. With your bodies warm in their own ways, you found an addictive comfort in her touch, and desperately leaned closer, hoping to capture more of her sincere affection. It was never that simple, never that easily won; not when you were like this, not when you needed her to be more than just your doting wife and life partner, but still you tried to capture it. “Is my sweet girl having a hard time?” She cooed, hands that were still dirtied with chicken feed and mud cupping your cheeks that had seen far worse concoctions since you’d moved from the city. It had been quite the adjustment when you’d first gotten the chickens, having to face the realities of maintaining a farm and the secretions that came with unhygienic animals. Wanda was handling it better than you, and each morning she stepped into her rubber boots with pride while you hung back and tended to the house. It was an uneven dynamic without a doubt, but it worked so well for you both that neither of you minded, and embarrassingly you thought that caked on dirt only increased her attractiveness that paralyzed your inhibitions on a good day.  

You shrugged rather dismissively in response to her question, not sure of the words on the tip of your tongue that only formed in short sentences despite your efforts to elaborate. There wasn’t much going on in your head at all, but what had been made clear through physical expression alone was your deep longing for her authority and strict control. You got like this sometimes, for no rhyme or reason at all, but unlike the partners you’d had in the past that plagued you with insecurities and toxic expectations that you still muddled through from time to time even now, Wanda had never been phased – or, she’d never allowed you to see how it phased her, either could be true. Secretly, you think she rather likes this side of you, especially when she’s able to erase all feelings of dread from your weary bones and turn you into her sweet submissive eager to do anything that pleases her. Sometimes it’s a battle to break through your stubborn reserve, but other times, all it takes is the right tone of voice and a title that holds untarnished endearment and trust. Never before had any of your partners earned a title in the bedroom, but Wanda, with her calloused hands and charming smile, with her soft contagious laughter and stern commanding presence, had shown you the true bounds of a healthy committed relationship. She’d presented the title to you one night, when you were in a mood similar to now, and it had just felt right. Still, you fought its use, pushed aside its tantalizing effects, tried to lock away the desire to call her anything but her name, but it had changed you, and even with your stubborn exterior, your heart longed to have her fully; every unprotected side of her, every persona. 

“I need words, my lovely. Come on, tell Mommy what’s wrong.” There it was; that title that you had been fighting the urge to let slip past your lips since you’d rolled out of bed and found her making tea in the kitchen, already in her rubber boots and sunhat despite it being October. She’d been doused in early sunlight then, illuminated by a golden glow that allowed her hair to shine so incandescently, just like it was now hours later. She’d been in and out of the house since then, tending to the animals and the upkeep of the lawn, feeding horses and collecting chicken eggs, all while you’d laid on the couch in a strop of unexplainable angst. The reminder of your uneven dynamic weighed you down further, and expressively your features betrayed your tight lips. “Does Mommy need to take away some of that stress? I can see how tense you are, my girl. Can feel it all beneath my hands. Let Mommy help, yeah?” 

All that you could manage was a soft nod of agreement, your eyes glazing over as you stared back at her with an indistinguishable depth beneath your twinkling gaze. She had you beneath her entracing grip of control already, but there was still much to be down about your forlorn attitude. When her eyebrows knitted together, green eyes sparkling with affection albeit antagonizing incompletion, you knew that there was something more that she wanted from you; there always was. “I need words, moya lyubov.” 

“Yes.” The exasperated sigh entangled with your simply spoken consent rippled against her skin in waves, but she allowed your curtness to be forgiven for the moment, certain that eventually she’d have you pliant and begging beneath her, but there was never any prize for rushing the inevitable. The long game was far more sweet in her opinion. 

You grumbled beneath your breath when that weight of her hands caressing your flush cheeks slipped away in a single moment, replaced by cold longing and slowly building desire as you analyzed her eyes growing dark with temptation each second that passed. You watched her with hooded eyes, barely able to contain the squirming that you did now that you weren’t beneath her expectant stare, and while you didn’t feel like moving by a longshot, rundown by the weight of your sudden and unexplainable mood, you wiggled out of the soft clothing that had covered you since morning in favor of preparing yourself for her. Even if you’d need reassurance and guidance to fully snap out of the daze you’d fallen victim to, your inhibitions craved being good regardless. 

You settled back on the couch once your orange shorts speckled with cartoon bats and your t-shirt adorned with a cheerful jack-o-lantern had been folded on the coffee table, leaving you in only a pair of panties that coincidentally mirrored the festivities of fall the same way your loungewear had. The spider web design that laid over your naked mound, just beneath a delicate black bow that rested against your bikini line, would remain in place for Wanda to remove whenever she felt ready, your body having her preferences memorized even beneath the haze that consumed you. The throw pillow beneath your head was plush with newness, a decorative piece bought just a few days ago that enveloped your weight without restriction. It was perfectly comfortable, unlike the pumpkin shaped pillow on the chair across the room, but still it wasn’t Wanda, and each second reminded you of how you longed for her company as it passed. 

The sound of the faucet running, the french doors closing on the fridge, the naked footsteps drawing near, had been lost as they battled the deafening noise that filled your head. When a shadow fell over you, blocking out beams of ebbing sunlight, you’d startled reflexively, eyes scrambling to lock onto Wanda who stood above you with refined amusement twinged into her smirk. “My baby’s all ready for me, huh?” The heat of her acknowledgment replaced the warmth where sunlight had once fallen, and desperately you squirmed beneath her stare saturated in tender affection. “Such a good girl, keeping your panties on, hm. You know how much Mommy loves to be the one to take them off.” 

You swallowed thickly, sinking into the cushions as she came closer with each softly spoken acknowledgment of your obedience. Your eyes drooped lustfully as you sought to meet her stare through thick lashes, clouded with submission that hadn’t yet earned the strength to break through your reserve entirely, though its effort to prevail was commendable. Without warning – very few things came with a warning when Wanda was in this headspace – her weight caused the couch to dip slightly as she knelt on either side of your pliant body, but her deliciously toned thighs encasing your wanting frame kept you from rocking too harshly to the side. 

“You just need your Mommy, huh? Too many thoughts in that pretty head. That’s okay, Mommy’s here.” She cooed sweetly, leaning close until her lips, polished with a glimmering layer of cinnamon chapstick that she’d picked up from the farmers market last week, laid softly against your temple in a sweet show of tender affection that would remain unwavering no matter the acts she committed to your body in fleeting moments of intimacy and trust. The foundation of your relationship didn’t rely on the adventures of your sex life, and while Wanda could be downright vulgar, there were always elements of your thoughtful wife beneath the surface of her addictive dominance. Her trail of kisses started at your temple, soft and sweet as it warmed your skin and heart alike, but as she traveled lower, grew confident and bolder with her actions, the mark of her lips felt like an eternally burning fire that marked you fully. When her lips wrapped around your nipple for a brief moment, hot tongue soothing the ache tha thad become intertwined with your arousal due to your pebbled buds having been left untouched for so long as you’d waited for her return, your back arched off the couch, hands tangling into her hair desperately. But, before her touch and those delicious licks of pleasure were truly yours to grasp onto, she moved lower, kissed harsher, bit rougher. Your belly became a canvas of soft pinks and deep purples, marks of her passion left to gaze at even in the sensual aftermath, and each new mark pulled gasps and whines from your lips that had still refused to utter that one title that would ease all of your stress. 

When she reached the hem of your panties, the black bow a delicate touch to your sole article of clothing, you moaned lewdly as she nipped at it, pulling away from your body only to release the silk fabric and watch as the elastic band snapped against your bikini line harshly. You writhed at the welcomed albeit abrupt sting that slithered up your body until it met that existing coil of pleasure in your belly and added to the insatiable pressure blooming slowly, feeling hot breath fan across where you needed her most, although any semblance of desired pressure was withheld, and as she continued to taunt, to tease, to poke every button except the one you needed most, you grew desperate and impatient. As her teeth sank into the sensitive skin of your thigh for the fourth time, you snapped your legs closed around her head firmly, arching your back until your core was just out of reach from her mouth. 

“Please!” The strain in your voice was near pathetically desperate, and you were highly aware of the sticky arousal that darkened the fabric of your panties, typically a shade of soft burnt orange. The patch of moisture where desire pooled was deep and obvious to the naked eye even if you yourself couldn’t see it, and Wanda set her gaze on it with a near primal glint sparkling beneath the surface that nipped at your senses and pulled you beneath the rip current of her addictive essence. 

With an expression curated through years of meticulous practice, her full lips coated in cinnamon chapstick formed the perfect pout as she trailed her gaze upwards and over your body until her dazzling green eyes fell upon your own, and so elusively she had you believing in the genuinity of her puzzled concern and sincerity. “Please, what? What do you need from me, my love?” 

“Touch me! Please!” You begged shamelessly, although still with caution, forbidding yourself from slipping beneath her brutal intoxication just yet, however you slackened your hold on her head willingly, knowing that even if you hadn’t she’d have pried your thigh apart until your core opened itself up to her and whatever sadistic urges she felt the need to bestow upon your desperate body. Your thoughtfulness was rewarded with a single finger dragging down the center of your panties; over the engorged button that had once been your unaroused clit, through the passageway of your folds that parted for her easily at the slightest application of featherlight pressure, until it found that patch of tantalizing wetness that pooled at your opening which she prodded at tauntingly. 

“But I am touching you, sweetheart. I know that pretty head of yours is so fuzzy right now, but can’t you feel me?” The pout that formed across her lips only deepened as she pressed harder against you, her own eyes becoming lidded with arousal that wasn’t easily warded off, however, she’d always been better at self control than you. Desperately thrashing your hips upward, it seemed your show of desperation had finally weakened her stone exterior, and with a faux sigh of reluctance, she tapped your hip twice, fingers damp from your arousal threading into the waistband of your panties and beginning to pull them away once you’d complied with her silent demand and lifted your hips. “There, is that better, darling? No more icky panties keeping me from having you fully?” 

“Have me.” Your attempt at bargaining for pleasure was merely a breathy plea, your eyes fluttering closed as a slight draft creeping in from the open window fell upon your exposed core. Wanda smiled smugly at your wilting defiance, her fingers pressing into your folds and collecting wetness that pooled at your entrance like glittering pearls. You gasped a ragged sounding breath when the first finger sank into your core, single knuckle deep but still something to work with. “Please! M– Wanda!” The call of her name on your lips as she sank deeper inside of you, exploiting all of the spots that made you weak with pleasure naturally, was instinctual, but at the very last second you’d realized your near mistake and corrected it, although that near slip had her growing bolder once more, her touches becoming pointed and driven. 

“So close. You’re almost there, my pretty girl. Relax, just let Mommy touch you. There’s no need for those big daunting thoughts right now. You’re too little for those.” She preened, once again adjusting her position on the couch and subsequently jostling the single digit buried within your most intimate canal. The abrupt movement had you seeing stars, her blunt nail scraping across your sweet spot momentarily. With her weight resting on her shins, the couch supporting both of you evenly, she leaned in close, brushing her lips against yours in a tender embrace that had you truly submitting; releasing everything that had built up within you without your notice. 

As one finger became two, and her thumb sought out your swollen bundle of nerves begging for attention, there was little spoken word that filled the living room in the build up of pleasure. Your whines and gasps became fast paced and frenzied, desperate for that finite explosion that would send you plummeting into submission and ease, but as she wound you up, imposed blinding pleasure upon you, she held you there firmly, unwilling to allow that coil to snap before you gave her that one thing she wanted. “Please! Please! I’m so close!” Your hands grabbed at her overalls, that faded light denim so loved and broken in from hours of labor on the farm the perfect fabric to grip possessively in moments such as now. 

“I know, detka. I can feel you squeezing my fingers, can hear how wet you are. Just let go. Stop trying to hold on and let go for me. For Mommy.” Her fingers that had set a rushed pace slowed to a near complete stop, and you sobbed in defeat as that blinding climax that had been building slipped away for the second time. 

“Please! Mommy! Please!” There it was, so soft as it fell off of your lips that had become flush with blood as you gnawed and nipped at them with anticipation since the start of her teasing. Wanda only smiled, allowing the thumb that had been previously stroking at your nipples to pull at your bottom lip, sinking into your warm mouth when you parted your lips. As you suckled on her heavy digit, took in the faint traces of your arousal on her skin, her fingers in your core picked up speed again, and without hesitation, she allowed you to fall over the edge into bliss. 

“There we go. Good girl. My good girl. Did so well for me. So good for Mommy.” She cooed, easily working you down from that blinding climax that had your thighs trembling and tears springing to your beautiful eyes. She pulled her thumb away from your mouth prematurely, wanting to hold you close as the aftermath of your orgasm fell upon you fully, leaving you with nowhere to hide from the intense emotions that no longer had walls to keep them prisoner. 

Collecting you in her arms, pulling you snug against her chest, you whined at the sensation of weightlessness on your tongue, still desperate and eager to have that intimate connection and stimulation. Without words, not needing to hear what you needed from her because she already knew — she always knew — the button on her overalls was undone easily, and like you’d done on a few nights before, your mouth that sought her skin latched onto her nipple, eyes fluttering closed in blissful submission as you had her close. 

“I love you, my girl.” She hummed softly, lips pressing against your temple once more, sealing her affection with a kiss that you’d never complain about. 

[cute-sucker]

domestic life (w/rafe)

about: this series is gonna be super, short and cute! just a bunch of compilation of your life with rafe + super super domestic fluff <3 send requests if you would like !

the days were sweltering hot, and you could barely take it, feeling so overstimulated you felt like you could cry.

all it would take would be a slight comment for your eyes to start watering, so you knew it was a good decision to carefully walk down to rafe's truck. good thing your boyfriend was always willing to turn on the ac as much as you wanted.

the minute you jumped into the car, rafe leaned in closer to give you a kiss with puckered lips, an easy grin on his face, "there's my pretty girl," he murmured fixing your seat before grazing your face with his fingers.

you grimaced looking away pushing a hand to move him away, pink skirt fluttering as you redid your lipgloss. rafe looked at you with a raised eyebrow, gruffly muttering something under his breath after your rejection.

"i'm all gross, rafe. can't deal with it," you groaned, rubbing your hands in your hair to make it look better, "shit, this heat is really getting to me."

"c'mere, what the hell does it matter?" he groaned ignoring your meek protests before grabbing your face to give you a proper kiss, "i've seen you worse," then he gave you a suggestive smile as you smiled shyly, rubbing your face on his shoulder as he muttered in approval.  

"that wasn't so hard, was it?"

you hide your smile now, humming softly. giving him a slight look you adjust the toggle of the air conditioning, feeling the chilly breeze cool you. rafe looked at you bewildered as you turned it up the whole way, a cheeky smile on your face. you knew he couldn't stop you. you knew he didn't have it in him.  

"y'know i turned it on before you came in? spent five minutes fermenting in this fuckin' cold"

now you rolled your eyes, fixing your necklace to make sure it was on display. sometimes that was how you won arguments, you just flashed your little necklace that had a 'r,' on it, and you swore rafe's eyes went glossy before he coughed to stop himself to kissing you. it worked every single time, but this time he was scowling, shaking his head as he continued to drive.

you nudged him gently with your manicured finger, "rafe? rafe...rafe?" you whispered in his ear, before he let out a small groan slowly pulling over the car.

"what is it?"

you bit your lip, fidgeting before you looked up.

"spit it out."

you sighed, "i can't deal with the weather rafe. it makes me feel super ichy, and disgusting. i need this. i really do." now you're practically whispering, looking up at him with wide doe eyes. you watch him close his eyes, gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turn white.

finally he let out a soft sigh, as he ran a hand through his hair as if it made sense to him. sometimes he talked to you about his sensory issues as well, in that soft offhanded way, telling you how it irritated him the way that the tv was loud enough to make his head burn, or the way the tags on his t-shirts had to cut off properly, and now you wished that he would understand.

you shivered now, like a frail leaf on an autumn day, hoping that you wouldn't be met with his cruel words, hoping that he'll understand and somehow, somehow he places a warm hand on your waist, a gentle frown on his face.

and in true rafe fashion, he gives you a small pat on your head, pulling the car back into drive, and he's practically cooing now but there's a sweet edge to his words as if he's pulling you apart like cotton candy.

"yea', jesus, i should have known better," and then he tosses a cd into your lap, and you know he's trying to apologise through his actions as he gives you a soft kiss the on the forehead

"c'mon put on one of those cheesy songs."

[yawnderu]

Captain's Wife - John Price & TF141 x Reader

work starting to feel like I do belong in the kitchen 💀so here's some Price domestic stuff to keep me going until Friday so I don't lose my mind.

Content: small drabbles, fluff, domestic!Price, vouyerism, John ''I share my wife'' Price, TF141 x reader.

I actually think about being Price's housewife quite a lot. Being a cute little thing he has waiting for him back at home, a domestic life for the first time ever, something he never even thought was possible.

He bought big house in the British countryside, just to make sure you're free from all the stress city life brings. Any hobbies you may have he fully supports and funds, giving you extra spending money on the side despite knowing you don't usually spend it, having all your needs and interests taken care of by him.

This man spoils you rotten without you even asking, having savings for years before he even met you and a good salary as a captain in the SAS. Anything you even glance at when you're out with him at the mall? Bought for you with no hesitation at all. Jewelry, clothes, lingerie; you don't lack any of those things when you're with him.

Any affection you miss while he's deployed is given to you once he's back, his fat cock filling you up in different positions, despite how tired he might be, he always has the energy to fuck his darling wife good. He always puts your pleasure first, making you cum with his fingers and tongue before he even thinks about putting his dick inside. His efforts don't come without rewards, of course, and it has become one of his favorite things to see you down on your knees, praising his thick cock and heavy falls, praising him.

Being a Captain comes with sharing many things with his boys- from gear, to his wife. The first time you're introduced to the boys, the thought of straying doesn't even cross your mind, fully loyal to your husband and simply happy to meet the boys he considers his family. It isn't until Price has you sitting on his lap with your legs wide open, forcing orgasm after orgasm out of you in front of the younger men that the thought of having someone other than him hits your brain.

John doesn't miss the way your eyes linger on the younger men. Soap shamelessly has his dick out, stroking up and down slowly, basking in on the sight of his captain fingering your soaking cunt. Gaz is more subtle about it, though eventually he can't ignore his boner, pulling out the prettiest dick you've ever seen and stroking it with more enthusiasm than the others, free hand massaging his heavy balls, begging for release.

Ghost is the one who takes the longest to give into it, ignoring his painful boner being strained by his jeans up until John is fucking you. The sight of your attractive body bouncing on his captain's cock is too much for him, legs spreading wider on the couch to adjust his boner until his hand hesitantly starts to rub his length over his clothes, shamelessly thinking it's him the one fucking you.

And that fantasy becomes a reality soon enough, once you're fucked-out and your cunt is ready to take more, nice and wet for the men he trusts the most. He has rules for it, of course. They can't fuck you without a condom, anything you feel uncomfortable with is off limits, and if you show any signs of discomfort, they have to stop. Soap only whined about not being able to fuck you raw, earning him a look that got him to shut up immediately.

Gaz is a gentle lover despite how excited he was, eating your cunt out nice and slow, plump lips latching onto your clit while your hand gently pushes the back of his head closer, a teasing ''patience, love.'' escaping his lips as he lines up the tip of his cock to your entrance, slowly pushing in and giving you time to adjust to his thickness before he's fucking into you slowly, making sure every thrust hits deep inside you. He switches positions a few times, settling in for the one that makes you moan louder, hands holding onto your hips as he fucks into you from behind.

Johnny is more eager, more... youthful, just happy to be able to fuck you. He'd never admit it, but he's had his eye on you ever since he first met you, wishing he was as lucky as his captain. He eats you out for the longest, messily sucking and licking all over your cunt, lips latching onto your clit, tongue swirling over it, your moans encouraging him to go for longer even when his tongue is tired. He's on his knees in front of the bed, one of his hands busy jerking himself off and stopping right when he's about to cum just by tasting you. H's not enthusiastic about putting a condom on, though he quickly forgets about his annoyance once he's balls deep inside you, hands holding onto your waist as he fucks into you, fast and deep.

Ghost is the only one who doesn't eat you out yet, being slightly uncomfortable about the whole thing and about being watched. John knows Ghost ever since he was Simon, so he tells the boys to go clean up while he too leaves the room, making sure to be within earshot in case anything happens, despite knowing he can trust Simon with his life. He makes up for it by fingering your cunt, long digits sinking into it slowly, brown eyes fully focusing on your expression to make sure you're enjoying every second of it. It takes a while before he fucks you, condom rolling down his thick length and making sure you're all nice and wet before hesitantly pushing in, holding you in a nice missionary while he thrusts in and out, his massive body caging you in and making you feel safe. The mask goes up halfway, giving you sloppy, inexperienced kisses as a reward for taking him so well. Simon is a talker when he's close, face seeking shelter into the crook of your neck as he praises you for being so good for him, for taking his cock so well and making him feel good.

Once the boys are gone, Price runs a bath for you, asking you if you enjoyed yourself and if you'd be interested on doing that again in the future. He presses gentle kisses to your forehead, warm hands washing your body with love and care, allowing you to fall asleep in his arms even when you're in the bathtub. He dries your body and puts you to bed after changing the sheets, a look of pure adoration in his eyes.

[mingtinys]

what dating seventeen feels like

pairing : seventeen x gn!reader

headcanons , fluff , misc

warnings : none

word count : 1.1 k

requested ? no

a/n: just a small collection of the things i love in life that i associate with seventeen

choi seungcheol

falling asleep on the couch and waking up in bed. chocolate-covered strawberries. the kind of love found in romcoms. expensive dinner dates and champagne.

cologne that lingers on your clothes and bed sheets. tight, bone-crushing, hugs. his hand almost always under the hem of your shirt, skin to skin (it grounds him). him letting you win when you play wrestle. cute aggression victim.

having a rock to hold on to amidst a raging current.

yoon jeonghan

diving under a crashing wave to find calm, gentle, water. rollercoasters with big drops. feathers. lavender fields. leaving the theater and realizing night has fallen.

always saying the same thing at the same time (it scares seokmin). naps on the couch. sending each other pictures of weird-looking animals with the caption "you" or "us." partners in crime. braiding his hair.

having not only a boyfriend but a best friend in jeonghan.

joshua hong

warm blankets, fresh from the dryer. pancakes and orange juice in the morning. raw honey. the scent of freshly baked bread. scented candles and wax melts.

lives up to the gentleman title. opens doors, bides by the sidewalk rule, lends you his jacket, etc. acts! of! service!! fighting over who pays the bill (he's actually ambushed your waiter to pay before you can even see the check). domestic, mundane, slice-of-life type of love.

a honeymoon phase that never ends.

wen junhui

walking down empty streets without a care in the world. morning cartoons. clingy cats. ice cream for dinner. frozen pizza with red wine. airport liminal space hours.

taking pictures of sunsets to send to each other. doodling on his hand. staying up until 3am accidentally. back hugs galore. resting his chin atop your head. him getting as close as possible when showing him something on your phone (i'm talking cheek smooshed up against yours). sleepy jun asking for kisses every morning.

living life in the moment because you know the future can wait for you two.

kwon soonyoung

energetic snow days. sledding, snowball fights, building snowmen. energy drinks and all-nighters. watermelon sugar. summer bonfires. the ambiance of muffled music through club bathrooms.

zoo dates. always wins you the biggest prizes at carnivals. his favorite place to nap is your lap. sweaty post-dance practice hugs. he gets pouty if you start a tv show without him. baking brownies at 3am. talks about you non-stop to anyone who will (or won't) listen.

excitement that isn't momentary or overwhelming. excitement that makes life meaningful.

jeon wonwoo

tulips blooming in the spring. waxing gibbous moons. amethyst. resting after a long, busy day. the scent of old, yellowed books. rhythmic clicking of a keyboard. warm, smooth, riverbank stones.

re-adjusting his glasses for him after every kiss. let's you design his character's outfits in video games. tells you about the book he's reading like it's gossip. he's always taking candid photos of you. quiet mornings. elderly couples who see you two are reminded of how they fell in love.

defining love not by how much it's said, but by how it's felt.

lee jihoon

thunderstorms that lull you to sleep. shiny, red guitars coming to life with smooth melodies. the crackle of a fire. rosemary. empty highways at night. lightning that strikes twice.

morning coffee dates at home. napping on his studio sofa while he works. quality! time! absolutely spoils you every chance he gets. pretends to act all cool when you catch him staring. writing songs for you. his hand routinely finds your knee when he's anxious. he prefers intimate and private acts of affection to the alternative.

cherishing all the little things that make your relationship important.

lee seokmin

wishing on dandelions. blue skies. morning dew on grass. golden hour. that burning sensation you get in your lungs when laughing too hard. iced lattes.

always asking permission to kiss you. so, so attentive. falling asleep on facetime. pillow forts. lots, and lots, and lots of nose kisses. him never wanting to leave you in the morning. "five more minutes" type of guy. his favorite feeling in the world is making you laugh.

finally knowing what it means to love someone so much you'd give the world for them.

kim mingyu

sleeping by a window with the sun warming your skin. hearing your favorite song on the radio. silky white sheets. first date jitters. first love. receiving a bouquet of roses.

admires you so, so, much. talks about you 24/7, much to his members' annoyance. (jk, they love you, they just like to tease him about it). literally a sponge the way he starts picking up your habits and slang. he's physically incapable of rejecting your puppy-dog eyes. likes to lay sprawled out on top of you. he'll often seek you out if he needs a little extra support.

the feeling that comes with knowing you've found "the one."

xu minghao

the autumn leaves changing. winter constellations. a solar eclipse. the quiet of a house before everyone wakes. those cozy granny-square blankets. white wine. laughing at scary movies.

wine and painting nights. him always making two cups of tea. art museum dates. swaying together to music in the kitchen. him secretly being a sucker for your doting. has your mannerisms memorized and prides himself on it. somehow always knows what to say when you're feeling down.

growing, learning, and experiencing life alongside each other.

boo seungkwan

warm, summer air. mystery flavored lollipops that somehow taste like every flavor all at once. rosy red cheeks.

teasing each other and inside jokes. nicknames like loser, stupid-head, idiot etc. (affectionate). hours long gossip sessions. kisses that taste of coffee and tangerine chapstick. stars in his eyes whenever you're doing literally anything. having his undivided attention.

resident happy pill and mood-maker seungkwan knowing he can let his mask fall around you without judgement.

hansol vernon chwe

watching city lights blur past in the passenger seat of a car at night. cereal at 1am. falling asleep while watching tv. poorly handmade, yet meaningful gifts. assorted candies. buying road trip snacks.

communicating with a single look. ice cream dates in the middle of winter. speaking purely in movie and tiktok references. late-night conversations that take a weird turn. (you've once debated if aliens would like pineapple on pizza). pretending not to notice how shy he gets when initiating physical affection.

loving the strange, bad, and hidden parts of each other as much as the good.

lee chan

the comforting buzz and motion of a subway at night. toothy smiles. watching reruns of your favorite childhood show. surprise parties. the first snow of the new year. concert lights.

driving at 2am, singing at the top of your lungs. random dance parties in the living room. getting noise complaints and giggling about it. pillow fights and board games, competitive, yet both trying to let the other win cause it'll make them happy. asking him to open jars. him getting exceptionally giddy to open said jars. (you're completely capable, but know he likes to feel needed).

making each other's inner child feel safe.