#and he’s always soft and gentle and has always been but it’s just different bc

[hiyyihrts]

I love how Colin is always so gentle and delicate with Penelope. When he speaks to her he always softens his voice, he’s always so gentle when he takes her hand or leads her somewhere, and when they kiss he is so considerate and soft with her. He kisses her with urgency but does it with an heir of knowing that this is many firsts for her so he’s treating her gently, yet he also holds onto her and touches her with such familiarity because this is Pen, his Penelope, who he’s feeling a connection with other than just merely physical attraction- he’s feeling all of the things he’s dreamed about and wished for yet never knew he would want in this lifetime.

[bosspigeon]

idk when im gonna play Nod but i do like thinking about his relationship with Wyll a lot but especially about the fact that Nod is a Hard Top until Wyll teehee

[tbaluver]

Kissing His Scars- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader requested: anonnie (anonymous) ᯓᡣ𐭩 genre: slight angst i think ( references of their past lives ) but tooth rotting fluff overall ! a/n: hihi lovelies i miss you all ! i've been really busy with school and i missed writing and interacting with you all so much ˙◠˙ this was requested by an anonnie and i apologize if this is written not the best i feel so rusty bc my exams drained me ദ്ദി ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ ) i hope you all are so well and i hope i can get some writing posted bc i have a couple ideas for kinktober but i feel so late ˙◠˙ anyways enjoy reading ! (∩˃o˂∩)♡ any likes and reblogs are always appreciated! enjoy!

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

Xavier has a couple scars from all the battles he’s been through. A couple small ones from his hands and a couple on his arms. You’ve seen them sometimes when he’s had his shirt off or when you shower together.

He was curious about why you were doing this in the first place. His eyes sparkled with affection as you kiss and caress the lines of each scar with tenderness. He'd lean in to your touch, letting you do as you please, appreciating every second and minute of it. He felt so appreciated and special that he will definitely return the favor back to you.

Every kiss on his scars reminds him that each battle he’s faced has been worth it. In this lifetime, he has found you again after losing you and enduring so much. Now, he has a loving partner to come home to- where he feels cherished, complete, and truly at peace.

────୨ৎ────

You were curled up on the couch, flipping through different shows and movies in search of the perfect one to enjoy while waiting for you and Xavier’s food. Just then, Xavier joins you, settling his head comfortably in your lap, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

“Hi honey,” He says softly, his voice warm as he cups your face. His fingers gently tracing small circles on your cheek.

“Hi baby” you reply, nuzzling against his hand and placing your own atop his. Your heart flutters as you glance down at him. You took his hand, planting soft kisses along his inner palm before intertwining your fingers with his.

He watches you with a playful smile, utterly smitten by how adorable you were. Small affections made him feel loved and cherished. As you flipped his hand to face yours, you noticed the small scars that marked his skin- stories he briefly mentioned he’s gotten from childhood and battles with Wanderers from the past.

“Did you really get these when you were just a child?” you asked as he nodded. “A couple were from mishandling my sword while I was training,” he explained, earning a breathy chuckle.

You draw his hand closer, your lips finding those small scars.

“Hmm? What are you doing? They don’t hurt anymore,” He says so innocently, a hint of curiosity in his eyes. As you pull your lips away from his hand, you look down, meeting his gaze.

“I know,” you reply, your voice softening. “You’ve come some far. Those battles shape you into this strong and brave man.” A gentle smile graced your lips as he returned your smile, warmth flooding over him.

“No, it’s all those battles that have made everything worth it to have you in the end.” His voice filled with sincerity. Unable to resist, he sits up, leaning in. His eyes soften as he closes the distance between you two. Your breath caught as his lips met yours, tender and sweet, feeling the warmth of his love wrap around you.

Zayne:

You were no stranger to the scars on his arms. You've memorized every part of his body by now. He always kept them hidden whenever he wore his coat, long sleeves, or cardigan. Whether or not he was insecure about them or not, you wanted to make sure every inch of him was loved.

He was a bit surprised when you first kissed the scars on his arms. When your soft lips brushed against his scars, he melted at your touch. He feels a warmth spread through his body that brings him comfort and so so unconditionally loved. As you planted gentle kisses along his arm, a smile curled on his lips.

He loves it and finds it endearing whenever you do, making sure to give you the same amount of kisses back or more to remind you how much equally he loves you back.

────୨ৎ────

You rested your head on Zayne’s lap, the TV fading into a dull hum as he immersed himself in the pages of his book. With one hand holding the book, his other hand rests against your head to act as a pillow. Curiosity piqued you as you shifted slightly to play with his hand, captivated by the contract between the sizes of your hands. That’s when your gaze fell on the scar peeking from his sleeve.

As he continues to read, you gently push his sleeve up, tracing the outline of his scar before moving to the one beside it. You remembered him telling you he’d gotten these from childhood and how he can’t fully remember how he got them. A bittersweet ache fills your heart as you think of the childhood you both missed out on, wishing you could have been there to ease his pain and take care of him.

Drawn by an impulse, you inch closer and closer to his arm, planting a delicate trail of kisses on his scars. The soft warmth of your lips draws his attention to you. As he glances down, a small smile curls onto his lips.

“What are you doing, my love?” He asks softly, closing his book and setting it aside. His free hand brushes back the stray strands of your hair that had fallen over your face, tucking them gently behind your ear.

You rolled over to meet his gaze, your heart swelling at the sight of his soft smile and the warmth in his eyes, all just for you.

“Seeing these makes me wish I could have taken away your pain back then.” He’d sigh, cupping your face, his gaze continues to be filled with warmth.

“What matters is that you’re here with me now.” He replies softly as you shift closer, sitting up to rest your head against his chest. “Just having you here makes everything feel right,” He says with a soft smile on his face.

“I’m grateful that we eventually found our way to each other in the end.” He gently lifted your chin with his finger, drawing your gaze back to his before pressing a sweet and tender kiss to your lips.

( astra when i catch you astra.....)

Rafayel:

He is no stranger to you kissing his scars. You did it once when you kissed his paper cuts on his finger and he wanted you to keep doing it again and again.

Acts as if he's touch-starved. His reasoning would be one he loves it, two he loves and craves your touch, three he feels seen. You’ll still love him no matter what flaws he has or what he becomes.

Although there were some scars that randomly appeared on his arms, hinting untold stories. Initially you assume they might have stemmed from his artistic pursuits and whenever you bring it up, he brushes the topic aside.

Knowing Raf, you sense there’s more beneath the surface, he’s never been one to shy away from discussing his body. But you choose not to press on it and you’ll wait patiently for him to open up in his own time. For now, your love will be his comfort to whatever untold stories those scars hold on him.

────୨ৎ────

“Ouch! My hand!” He whines, flailing his hand in the air as if that might chase away the sting. You walk over to his stool, where he’s currently suffering from another paper cut from his sketchbook.

“Cutie,” he pouts, raising his finger to your face with a hopeful expression. “Kiss it, please.” You can’t help but chuckle as you take his hand in yours. You press a gentle kiss over the tiny wound to make his pain go away.

“There. It’ll be gone in a few seconds, Raf.” Just to be sure, you place another soft kiss on the same spot and notice a faint scar peeking from under his dress sleeve.

“Another one Raf? Where’d you get this scar?” You ask, gently pulling his arm to roll up his sleeve and examine it. He shrugs, a hint of mystery in his eyes. “I dunno, it just appeared out of nowhere. I can’t be too focused on that if I’m always focused on you cutie.” You snort. tracing the outline of the scar with your fingertip before leaning in to place a tender kiss on it.

He smiles, his nebula colored eyes sparkling as if they imitated space and the stars. “Are you trying to make it go away cutie?” he asks, tilting his head.

“Yes,” you reply softly, “but it’s also for the times I couldn’t be there to kiss it better.” He swears his heart can leap out of his chest right now and do backflips from how adorable you are. He reaches out to cup your face, his free arm slipping around your waist to pull you closer to him.

“Then I guess you just have to stay with me all the time," he says, a mix of playfulness and seriousness in his voice. “What if I get hurt again? Who’s going to kiss it all better? He gazes into your eyes, a soft smile breaking across his face.

He gently pulls you onto his lap, your faces meeting each other's level as you meet each other’s gaze. “You know,” he says, his voice gentle, “I could get used to you kissing all my scars. You make everything feel so much better.”

With a playful twinkle in his eye, he cups your cheek, drawing you closer until your lips brush against each other in a sweet, lingering kiss.

Sylus:

You’ve seen the scar on his chest before, whether it was during your shared showers or a cozy night in your shared bed. It often peeks out from under his robe, nestled by his sternum. He doesn’t mention much about how he got it, so you decided not to pry further into it.

The first time you did it was when you both got ready for bed. As you nestled your head against his chest, your fingers gently trace the scar that marked his skin. He’d hum in response from your touch as you pressed a soft kiss to it. He’d let out a silent laugh, finding you to be oh so adorable. He'd ruffle your hair before placing a sweet kiss on the top of your head.

You'd do it a lot more often after you found out he enjoys your small acts of affection towards him. You'd do it any chance you'd get.

In the steamy shower, you'd go on your tippy toes to kiss his scar and he'd respond back by gently placing a finger under your chin to draw you in for a soft tender kiss in return.

He loves it when you kiss the scar on his chest. You’re the only person he can be himself and vulnerable around, so doing an intimate act like that makes him feel safe and loved.

────୨ৎ────

Sylus was already in bed, his head resting gently against the headboard. His eyes were closed, the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest was evident to the exhaustion from a long day of work. Not wanting to disturb his peace, you quietly climbed on top of him, resting your head near his heart, hearing the soft, rapid thumps of his heartbeat. Instinctively, he wraps his arms around your waist, drawing you closer.

“Goodnight Sy,” you whisper, planting a tender kiss on his chest. Your gaze falls upon the scar that you knew so well, it’s story etched into his skin.

“Goodnight, sweetie,” he murmured back, his voice a low, soothing whisper as his fingers traced gentle circles on your waist.

You let your fingertips wander over the scar, feeling the slight indentation. He responds with a soft hum, his eyes still closed. “Can’t sleep?” he asked quietly, his hands still anchoring you on to him. You hum in reply, your mind drifting back to the story behind his scar.

-

“Where did you get this scar, Sy?” you asked, as the warm water pours over both of you in the shower.

He glances down at you, his gaze softening as he focuses on your face, careful not to let the soap get into your eyes. “That,” he paused for a moment, “is the reason I’m still here. But that’s all in the past now, sweetie.”

-

You remember not prying further as you traced the scar’s curves. Leaning closer, you pressed a soft kiss to his scar, earning a breathy chuckle from him as he tangles his fingers in your hair.

“I’m glad you’re still here with me, Sy,” you whisper, continuing to caress the scar with your fingertip.

He shifted slightly, pulling you closer, your eyes meeting his crimson ones. His gaze was sleepy yet filled with warmth. If his heart beats any faster, he swears his heart can burst out of his chest.

“And I’m grateful to always have you by my side.” A soft smile curls to his lips as he cups your face, his thumb gently stroking your cheek before pulling you forward to him, giving you a sweet and passionate kiss.

[moonstruckme]

HI MAE so i didnt send the shy remus x reader ask but i saw that u wanted ideas and i had one. what about reader who's very cocky and like confident and stuff and remus is intimidated by her usually but then theyre at a party or smth and shes all drunk and shes all over him telling him stuff like how shes got the biggest crush on him or like how hes genuinely one of the most attractive people shes ever met and shy remus is js like 😳 while also taking care of her bc shes so drunk and simultaneously trying not to combust

Hi my love, thank you so much for your request!

cw: alcohol

shy!Remus x fem!reader ♡ 1.1k words

Really, it should be Sirius’ responsibility to look after you. It is his party, after all. But Sirius has a love for delegating unwanted tasks and also a love for meddling (which Remus theorizes he got at least partly from James). So, naturally, you’re in Remus’ lap. 

“You guys are so nice,” you croon, words strung together like cursive and fingers toying with a loose thread of Remus’ sweater. He’s resigned himself to letting you unravel the whole thing without complaint. “All of you, all your friends are the nicest…the warmest people I ever knew. How’d you do that?” 

Remus smiles down at you. “I think James has always been good at bringing out the best in people.” 

He’s not entirely sure how you came to be lying on your back on the couch, your head on Remus’ thigh and your hands reaching for the dangling thread above you like a cat enjoying some lazy play. If he asked you, Remus doesn’t think you’d know, either. It makes a lovely view for him, your eyes uptilted in his direction and features relaxed and unguarded as a result of the series of tequila shots Sirius had cajoled you into not realizing you’d already had a few drinks. Remus very much enjoys having you this close and being able to look at you so casually, even if your brassy, larger-than-life demeanor often terrifies as much as impresses him. Even if your head on his thigh makes his face feel like a fire hazard. 

“Don’t think he had to work very hard with you. You’re such a sweetheart already.” You say it so simply, an obvious truth, and Remus finds himself staying perfectly still like a rabbit in the woods that thinks it might yet escape your notice. His heartbeat pitters in everywhere from his cheeks to his fingertips. He worries he’s going to have to make a response, but your eyes widen suddenly. “Oh! Sit still.” 

No problems there. Remus moves only his eyes as you sit up from his lap, tucking your feet underneath you and reaching for him with your lip trapped between your teeth in concentration. You touch a fingertip to his cheek and smile victoriously. 

“Got it.” You turn your finger, showing him. “You had an eyelash.” You blow it off your fingertip and onto Sirius’ rug. Remus marvels at the unthinking loveliness of you. “Have I talked to you about your eyes before?” you ask conversationally. 

Remus blinks, ceasing his tracking of the eyelash to look at you. “I don’t think so,” he ventures, though he knows you haven’t. He remembers most exchanges you’ve had, and he definitely would have remembered that. 

“Oh.” Your brows purse softly. “Must’ve been with someone else,” you murmur, almost to yourself. “Anyway, it’s important to me that you know, they’re really beautiful.” 

Remus startles, partly at the compliment but mostly at the touch you lay on his cheek, your fingers cool and gentle, like you’re steadying his face for your perusal. You look into his eyes attentively. 

“They’re brown,” Remus says in a soft voice. 

Your lips tilt like he’s said something funny. “Nobody’s eyes are just brown, Remus. There are so many different kinds.” Your index finger draws a short line across his cheekbone. Remus can’t tell you mean for it to or not. “Yours are sort of like a…like a gradient. They get lighter farther down.” 

Remus decides to study your eyes as you study his, and he sees what you mean. The shadow of your lashes makes your irises look darker at the tops. It’s difficult to tell, though, with your pupils eclipsing so much of them. 

“They’re, like, a warmish brown,” you’re saying, gaze unwavering. “Like the color you want your tea to be. You know, there’s some fact or study or something that says brown eyes make people feel safe. Did you know that?” 

“I didn’t,” Remus says. The weight of your attention is taking its toll on him, his body aching to sink into the couch cushions. He wants to ask if brown eyes have that effect on you, but he doesn’t have the nerve. “Is that so?” he asks instead.

You shrug. “I dunno. Works on me.” 

The breath stalls in Remus’ lungs. You’re looking at him like you haven’t said anything out of the ordinary, expression wide open and somewhat unfocused. 

You yawn, removing your hand from his face to half cover your mouth. It’s an awfully endearing show, and over too fast. “I guess that’s probably why—” You cut yourself off with a hiccup. Your eyes flare like you weren’t expecting it, hand jumping back up in front of your mouth. Remus grins before he can stop himself. 

“Oh.” Your smile is an afterthought, a response to his. “Sorry.” 

“It’s okay.” Remus isn’t even certain what you’re apologizing for. 

Your eyes have that sweet, attentive look again. “I really like when you smile.” 

Remus feels heat spread up to the tips of his ears. It’s official. He’s got more in common with a live flame than a human anymore. “What were you saying?” he prompts. 

You bite your lip as though you’ve forgotten. “Oh!” Your eyes light. “Just, I guess that’s probably why I have such a giant crush on you.” 

Remus’ heart thuds. He breathes, “What?” 

“Yeah.” You roll your eyes, grinning at yourself. “It’s relentless.” Hiccup. “Super embarrassing. But—but you’ve got those eyes, and your freckles, and that sweetheart face…” You shrug again, helpless. Ride out another hiccup. “What am I supposed to do?” 

Remus stares at you. It seems impossible. You have a crush on him? It’s out of the natural order. The world’s gone to chaos. It’s supposed to be the other way around! Remus pines silently after you, you eventually find some big, cocksure bloke who can match you, and Remus continues to pine whilst you go on with your brilliant, dazzling life. That’s the way it’s meant to be. 

“I would…” Remus finds his mouth forming around words he doesn’t recognize until they come out. “I’d know a thing or two about a crush like that.” 

Your lips part, but you don’t look offended. “Well, yeah. I’d hope you knew I fancied you, I’ve only been seeking you out ever since we met.” 

Not what he meant. Remus did not, in fact, know that. 

“I didn’t notice you were,” he admits. 

Your head tilts. “Really?” There’s an obvious follow up question—then what did you mean just now?—but for one reason or another, you don’t ask it. You only lean onto his shoulder, your head slipping a few inches down his arm.

Remus channels all his bravery into an arm around your waist to keep you from slumping further. He vows to himself to tell you tomorrow.

[meiieiri]

𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐞 [geto suguru]

synopsis: suguru geto upped and left that day without a moment’s notice and he took everything with him — your heart, your soul — but as you look at the positive pregnancy test in your hand, you realize that he did in fact leave one thing behind.

warnings: unplanned pregnancy, angst, explicit sex.

a/n: i know, i know. i should be writing WE but this concept has been in my head far longer than WE and i just need to get it out there or else, i think i’m gonna go insane. if anyone wants to know the plot of this would have been fic, feel free to let me know lmao, of course it still involves gojo bc i can’t choose between the two of them since they’re both so baby girl—! also happy birthday to the loml, my pookie-wookie, honeybunch, suguru geto!!

It’s been a year since the happy side trip to Okinawa became a living nightmare that culminated in you, Suguru Geto, and Satoru Gojo on the brink of death and with many more scars than you could have ever imagined. The three of you had very different ideas on how to cope. Satoru spends the past year perfecting his cursed technique, often at the expense of his emotional well-being and energy but then again, after what Toji Fushiguro did to him leaving him with the trauma of being slaughtered without regard, it was only natural.

You and Suguru on the other hand retreated into yourselves; it was hard to believe that just a year before the two of you were a normal teenage couple who enjoyed walking the trendy streets of Shibuya in the weekend sunshine without a care in the world, whose only real problem is to decide where the two of you were gonna have your weekly dates.

Now, things were different. Rainclouds have gathered effectively blocking out the sun. As you sat on the desk reading through your textbook on reverse cursed technique, you glance at Suguru from time to time and you aren’t the least bit surprised to see him sitting by the dorm room’s windowsill, staring at the garden with an empty gaze.

You’ve had enough of this. This eternal state of limbo was tearing you and Suguru apart.

Slowly, you stand up from the desk, softly padding across the wooden floor to where your boyfriend is. It was the middle of the night, last you checked, it’s already nine in the evening. You should be heading back to the women’s dorms now but you couldn’t, not when things were like this, not when Suguru’s losing himself day after day, you can’t help him, you know that, but you could be there for him seeing that’s all you can do.

But even then, it’s never enough.

Your relationship with Suguru is like a lit dynamite stick, you know that it’s only a matter of time before it also explodes in your faces. So, Suguru takes the lead, like he always does, he’s so much wiser and stronger than you in every way though he doesn’t care to admit it, though he pretends he doesn’t know why you’re so dependent on him.

“I think we should break up.”

He says that while holding your hand. You saw this coming but just how long did you anticipate that the love of your life would eventually up and leave you? You squeeze his hand with every ounce of the grief you are feeling hoping it would transcend the confines of your skin and it would reach his heart. “Is that what you really want?”

“No.”

He stands up to meet your gaze, the throw blanket falling to the floor as he does. He leans in closer, his hand cupping your cheek with such tenderness and heartache that you feel your heart rise to your throat. Suguru is normally so gentle like a shower of midnight rain, but he kisses you like this is the last — it probably is. Lost in him, your hands trail over his chest, and he deepens the kiss hoping that you’d also understand that he doesn’t really want to leave but he has to. He can’t bear to drag you into his mess.

He could never do that to you.

You respond with a soft moan when Suguru slowly lifts your shirt over your head. He stares at your plump breasts for a moment, covered only by a thin lace-like material, before deciding that looking at you wasn’t enough. He has to take you, ravish you, fondle you, kiss you. Anything to let you know that he’s not doing this because he’s fallen out of love with you.

“Don’t leave,” you plead in between his soft kisses to your breasts, tears slipping from your eyes as he removes your bra, letting it slip from your shoulders which he was now kissing up to the crook of your neck. How could your hearts be so full yet so empty at the same time?

None of what happened should have caused this much heartache between the two of you. In fact, it should have made you rely on each more, right? It should have strengthened you not destroy everything you had: each other, the future you planned together.

Suguru doesn’t answer as he nips at your neck, sucking on the delicate flesh, as your forms gracefully fall on the bed, he stares at you with such love, such devotion, and you wonder why this should be the last time. His gaze falls to your vulnerable form, his cock hardening at the sight of your clothed pussy getting wet just from that. He grinds against you, sighing at the way you buck your hips to meet his wanting more of him. If this was to be the last time, then, you want to make it count.

“Suguru, I’m yours.” That’s all he needs to hear and he removes your underwear, kissing down your leg as he slips it off of you. He tosses it onto his nightstand, and he leans towards it to grab a condom from his drawer. You catch his hand. “Don’t. I want to feel you.”

Suguru’s eyes widen at your request, his lips eliciting short huffs of breath. He’s never fucked you raw before. “Are you sure?”

You nod against his forehead. “Please. Please fuck me, Su.”

Slowly, his hand guiding his tip up and down your slit, smearing your wetness along the base of his cock before slowly pushing into you savoring the sensation of your cunt squeezing around him as he stretches you with his girth. A deep groan betrays him and his mouth hangs open as your tight walls envelop him as he bottoms out. He takes a moment to collect himself, not wanting to cum right then and there.

“S-shit. Ah, you’re so fucking tight.” He allows himself a small thrust, the tip of his cock already nudging your sensitive spot, having memorized you after many desperate nights of lovemaking. His fingers grip the soft skin of your hips as he pulls out momentarily before pushing back in again more forcefully this time.

“S-su! Mngh—please fuck me—I love you, I love you, I love you,” you beg.

A tear slips from Suguru’s eyes, it was becoming more real now — this final goodbye. He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his thumb brushing against your cheek as he slowly builds up the pace of his thrusts, his cock bullying your cunt, driving himself in and out of your pussy, again and again. He brings your leg to his waist, holding it so he could angle himself better. “I love you too.”

You mewl as he pistons in and out of you, his balls slapping hard against your skin. “Sugu—ah! More—n-need more of you—“ You’re crying now, and he is too as he continues to ravage your pussy, his hand finds your other leg and he pushes your knees close to your chest, folding you into a deep mating press, slamming into your cunt.

“I’m yours. Always,” Suguru looks into your eyes amidst your desperate cries, your thighs trembling under his passionate gaze. He grunts when he feels the familiar tightening of your walls. “You’re close—fuck,” he takes this as an incentive to go faster, harder, and he fucks you in a way he never has before.

“So good—oh—“ you fall silent as he suddenly brings your hands to your clit, letting you touch yourself. You looked so beautiful like this, under him, your head thrown back against the pillows, your mouth primed in a silent ‘o’. He pants as he feels his balls tighten when your hips involuntarily buck into him as you climax. “Suguru!”

“Ah, baby…” He groans, the hot breath from his lips tickling your forehead as he rides out his high, spilling his seed into you not caring what the consequences may be. You did want this after all, and he did too. You feel full just from the sensation of his thick cum, he thrusts into you one last time, further smearing his release in your walls.

You sighed as he stays there, your weak and trembling arms coming up to embrace him. He strokes your hair, memorizing each lock, pulling out after a while. Suguru pulls you flush against his chest, the remnants of his and your release sliding down your thighs. “It’ll be okay,” Suguru catches his breath, kissing your temple. “Even without me. You’ll be okay.”

“I won’t…you know I won’t.”

“You will.” He says firmly. “I promise. You know me, baby, I never break my promises.” You feel tears well up in your eyes again and he tenderly wipes it away. “I love you, (Y/N).”

“I love you too.”

By the next morning, you already knew with the way the AC’s cold air nips at your skin without Suguru, your Suguru, there to embrace you that he’s already left.

Without a note, without a goodbye. Typical of Suguru who doesn’t want to stick around to see you cry.

You curl into yourself as sobs wrack your body, the promise ring Suguru gave you gleaming under the rays of morning sunlight.

A few years later, just as Suguru said, things did get better. You smiled as you arranged the last of the tempura into the bento box filled with soba noodles with nori and small containers of mentsuyu and wasabi. It’s amazing how much she takes after him. You look at the clock and your face pales. You’re running late, so, you head upstairs to speed things up a little. You creak open the door to see the little blessing of your life, the last gift Suguru ever gave you. She’s looking at the picture of you and Suguru which you placed in her room, and since you know it was highly unlikely she’ll ever meet your lover in this lifetime, you’ve decided you want her to know him if by his appearance alone and the stories you tell her.

“Riko? We’re gonna be late,” you gently reminded your four-year-old daughter. You shoot her a funny look when you see the haphazard way she placed her hair in a bun. She pouts as she tries to get it right again, looking at her father’s picture intently. “Sweetheart, are you trying to look like—?”

“Like papa,” she huffs cutely and you chuckle, moving to pick her up and sit her down on your lap. Kissing her cheek, you also gaze at the picture depicting a candid you and Suguru during your first year at Tokyo Jujutsu Technical College. He has his arm wrapped around your shoulder, winking at the camera as he kisses your cheek, a silent gleeful laugh on your face.

You look at her, a little confused, you gently smooth her hair before planting a kiss between her eyebrows. “And why do you want to look like papa?” Riko shyly looks away, her ears turning a little red as she blushes, a trait she inherited from you. You flick her nose, giggling. “Well?” Riko laughs at the playful gesture.

“…So you don’t cry anymore, mama.” Your heart seems to have stopped beating for a moment and a warm, tearful smile appears on your face, wrapping Riko in a bone-crushingly tender hug. “Love you…” she sinks into the warmth of your hug and you kiss the top of her head.

“I love you, Riko. So…so…much.”

At that, your little girl sighs in relief. “School?” she tilts her head and you suddenly remembered the reason you went upstairs. You had to get moving. Your eyes widened and you carry her downstairs, being careful not to jostle her too much. “My hair, mama!” she giggles at her still unruly hair and you grimace in embarrassment. Suddenly, the front door opens and Riko sees who it is, before you could grab the spare brush from your bag, she suddenly jumps out of your arms and makes a beeline for the door.

“Papa, papa!”

You turn around and though the sight pains you to this day, somehow, you’re starting to learn to live with the fact that things are always bound to change with time and that this is what Suguru would have wanted: a loving and complete family for his little girl. You wrap Riko’s bento and place it in her lunchbox before going to greet the visitor.

“Hi, babe.” He turns to meet your lips for a sweet kiss, balancing Riko in his strong arms.

“Good morning, Satoru.”

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ FATHERLY COMPETITION — GETO SUGURU.

contents. non curse au, girl dad! suguru ft the twins, fem! + mother! reader, satoru is megumi’s father <3, silly lil family shenanigans and suguru having a one sided rivalry w satoru bc he’s a bum like that

suguru loves being a father—it’s just as they say it is. one day, you’re free and young and opposed to the idea of being tied down, and then the next second you’re cradling two newborns that make you want to dig to the earth’s core with your bare hands, all for the tiny humans in front of you.

he loves his two girls—they make the world go around and the stars come out and they make something as bright as the sun look dull and lifeless compared to those sweet smiles. but sometimes, he’d really appreciate being able to sleep in on a saturday morning.

“daddy, wake up,” there’s a poke to his cheek. mimiko is at least gentle with her disruptions—nanako has simply taken to jumping on the mattress by his feet.

“daddy, you promised,” nanako whines—it’s makes you stir with a soft groan, eyes opening to peer up at the two (very cute) troublemakers in your bed.

“what’d you promise this time, suguru?” you raise a brow, making him sigh as he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

“said i’d take them to the zoo,” he grunts, “but it’s not open for—” he looks at the time on his phone. seven thirty two am. “for another two and a half hours.”

“girls,” you start, “we have to wait a bit. why don’t you go back to bed—”

“we can stay here, mommy!” nanako brightens, squeezing between you and suguru to wrap her arms around your neck.

it’s cute, you suppose. it’s always endearing to be snuggled up by one of your little girls, but something tells you that you won’t be sleeping again any time soon. so you sigh, turning towards suguru and wrapping nanako in your arms as suguru does the same with mimiko and gives you an amused grin.

“i think we spoil them,” he murmurs, making you scoff.

“you spoil them. i’m the voice of reason in this household.”

“so now it’s a crime to give your kids fun family experiences that not everyone is fortunate enough to have—”

“you know what the not so generous parents out there probably have more than us? sleep.”

“that’s probably true,” he mutters, yawning before he presses a gentle kiss to mimiko’s forehead. “but at least we’re the world’s coolest parents. right girls?”

“megumi is going to the beach today,” nanako says as a matter of factly, “his dad is super cool.”

“and funny,” mimiko adds.

suguru’s face sours at that—you try your best not to giggle.

“oh so now satoru is cooler than me? he shouldn’t even be trusted near the ocean with children, they’ll drown—”

“satoru is careful,” you chuckle, “well….most of the time.”

“okay,” suguru raises a brow, looking expectantly at nanako, “but has satoru ever taken megumi ice skating? bet he hasn’t done that—”

“yeah they did,” nanako says instantly, “that’s why we asked to go.”

“well have they gone to the zoo?” he asks petulantly. she nods, and his lips curl into a pout.

suguru looks positively fumed at the idea that his best friend seems to be cooler in the eyes of his own children. you can practically watch the gears work in his head before he looks smugly over at the blonde girl curled up against your chest.

“okay, but have they ever been to a petting zoo?” he raises a brow, “there’s a difference.”

the two girls exchange a look before slowly, the excitement creeps up on their faces as they look at him in disbelief. suguru looks hopelessly smug with himself.

“you mean we can pet the animals?” nanako asks in wonder.

“yup,” suguru nods, grinning widely. you snort at his petty one sided competition.

“can i pet a giraffe?” mimiko asks, poking his arm as he nods excitedly.

“yeah, and you can feed it too.”

they squeal at that—and if suguru throws you a look of pure victory on his face, you decide not to ruin his moment just yet. because you already know it won’t last long until—

“what about whales? can we pet those too?”

“and a shark?”

“i wanna pet a tiger!”

“well, i don’t think those are really the safest options for a petting—”

“daddy, you’re so cool,” they gasp. suguru gives you a look that screams for help, but you only giggle, pecking nanako on the forehead as you send a sly wink to your husband.

“you are so cool,” you agree, “i can’t wait to see the tigers we can pet.”

he looks at you with betrayal in his eyes as the pout returns on his lips. “i trusted you,” he huffs.

“that was your fault,” you grin cheekily. it’s all a bit funny at his expense—but you also can’t help but be endeared at the way suguru does his best. for your girls. for you. for your sweet little family. so you take mercy on him, turning to your daughters as you murmur, “i think you’re a bit too young for those animals right now. let’s start small, yeah?”

they nod along, and you and suguru share an amused look. and then—

“make sure you guys tell megumi all about your trip next time you see him, okay?”

suguru be bragging to satoru like “my kids went to the petting zoo” and satoru’s clueless ass is like “oh !! that’s so nice !! i’m taking my kids to disney !!”

[withleeknow]

whiskers.

pairing: minho x reader genre/warnings: established relationship, fluff; reader has whisker dimples bc this is self-indulgent as hell, written in one sitting and v unedited lol it is once again 2am and i am half asleep. the fake cut mimo has on his cheek in the pics is kind of exactly where my whiskers are lmfao word count: 0.6k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / masterlist / ko-fi

"whiskers," minho says, pulling your gaze away from the laptop in front of you.

you roll your eyes half-heartedly, though you do put the device to the side to give minho your undivided attention. he's looking at you expectantly but patiently, like he's just asking you to give him a little love.

this isn't something that you've always liked about yourself, your whisker dimples as the internet has so lovingly deemed them these days. they would come out when you smile, or when your face twists into an unpleasant scowl. as a kid, people often found it odd how you had dimples so high up in your cheeks when others had them around their smile lines. you always felt a little different, a little weird whenever someone pointed this out even if it was only in harmless fun.

when minho first became aware of it, he was absolutely fascinated. he'd made you laugh so hard that you couldn't contain the bright grin that spread across your face as complete and utter joy took over you. you were clutching his arm, giggling at the story he was telling you when the dimples showed themselves, the cute indentations settling on top of your cheeks as if they were the physical manifestation of the happiness you felt inside.

you remember what minho did. he had cupped your face gently in his hands, then traced the soft lines with his fingers as he marveled at you. "you look like a cat," he had said, and you didn't really know what to make of it. it was so early in your relationship that you weren't sure if he was complimenting you or making fun of you like the others had.

but then the stars in his eyes twinkled a little brighter, the delighted quirk of his lips expressing his wonder better than words could. he had kissed you right there, softer and sweeter than he ever did in the short time that you had known each other back then, and you quickly learned that oh, maybe this little detail about yourself that you were embarrassed of your whole life was a good thing after all.

you still don't know the reason minho likes them so much. to you, they've always been something to ignore as best as you can, something to not draw attention to because you don't want people to highlight that maybe you're a little different from everybody else.

even as you sit here, years later with the love of your life who's got a very particular request for you, you're still not entirely sure why he's obsessed with your odd dimples enough to want to see them almost every day. it's a mystery to you and yet, it makes you feel all warm and bubbly inside whenever he sends this simple demand your way.

you adhere to his request nonetheless. when the dimples appear, you watch as a smile blooms on his face, growing bigger and bigger until it makes his eyes crinkle. like an instant boost of serotonin, you think.

minho traces them with gentle fingers, gazing at you in awe as if it's the first time he's seeing you like this. when he leans closer, you can't help but meet him halfway until his lips are tentatively brushing your cheeks. you can't help your own smile either, when it deepens and only accentuates the small moon-shaped dents which he kisses. five times on each side, and then he's peppering kisses all over your face while you laugh and accept the sudden burst of love.

sometimes he calls them whiskers, sometimes he calls them moons.

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 31.05.2024]

[darlingdaisyfarm]

₊˚ʚ Rain in the woods (Ford Pines x fem!reader) ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

part 3

author note: wow. oh. I can’t believe i finished this :')

this ridiculous, tender unhinged love letter to Ford (and to all of you) has been such a wild ride. tbh i started writing this fic as a half-joke, half-desperate need to get the scenario out of my head and now it’s grown into something so much more intimate than i ever imagined

to everyone who liked, reblogged, who wrote to me such wonderful sweet comments - i read every one and I love you more than Ford loves overthinking. seriously :) your support means everything, and I hope you'll like this final chapter. I’m so grateful for you all <3

ALSO sorry if there are a lot of kisses here….... ummm well I mean, you can't really blame me bc if Ford had let me, I would have just eaten him whole

nsfw, minors DNI

You don’t notice, but his hands are trembling when he reaches for the first aid kit he’d somehow already brought with him. Had he been planning this? Or maybe. . . he just couldn’t stay away, couldn’t bear the thought of you trying to deal with it on your own. 

Ford tries to maintain his usual level of calm composure, but the sight of your exposed thigh makes it so much harder than he anticipated. He feels so conflicted, his thoughts are somewhere between concern, desire and disgusting guilt. He’s a scientist, an explorer, a goddamned professional, not some pathetic old man fantasising about—

“This is going to sting,” Ford warns, trying to not look at your underwear along with your exposed body parts. He can’t be the one to make you uncomfortable now, not when you’re already in pain. “I’ll try to be quick, but it will hurt. I won’t push it, but. . . you need to stay still.”

He avoids meeting your wide, doe-like, scared, no, more like nervous eyes. Those eyes had undone him countless times before, always so trusting, so impossibly soft, curious, full of life. He dies every time when you look at him like that.

“Yes, okay,” you answer, though you’re not sure if it’s for him or for you. He pours the disinfectant into a cotton pad and just as he prepares to press it to your skin, you tense. “Ford, please. . . be gentle, okay?”

“I will, if it’s too much just tell me.” Ford still doesn’t dare meet your eyes, not when he knows his own will betray him. Instead, he focuses on the wound, on the crimson smear of blood that trickles down your skin. But it’s not that damn injury he wants to fix, it’s you, all of you. He wants to be needed by you, to be the one who makes you whole again. 

Ford prepares himself and trying his best, he gently presses the cotton pad to your skin what makes you gasp, oh, sweet mercy, that voice of yours. It’s all he can do to stop himself from leaning in and capturing your lips in tender kiss, getting between your legs and taking you right there. He keeps going, though, his big hands too careful, like you’re made of porcelain. He doesn’t want to hurt you, never, but he just wishes he could be inside you right now, show you how much he’s desperate for you.

“Ahh! Ford, h-hurts!” your fingers are gripping his wrist so tight, nails digging in, and fuck, he shouldn’t be thinking this. You are hurt, in pain, for god’s sake, but all he can see is you beneath him, making those same sounds for an entirely different reason as he makes love to you.

“Shh, I know, I know it does. I know, but you have to let me do this. If I don’t, the wound could get infected. Tetanus, sepsis are not things to take lightly.”

Goddamn, why he’s so close to places he shouldn’t even be thinking about. You’re laying there so beautiful, helpless, voice pleading with him to stop, it’s driving Ford crazy. His cock twitches in his pants and he hates himself for it, hates how his mind creates an image of you crying out his name like that, begging him to keep going instead of to stop. 

He feels the throb in his chest, but in his groin too.

“N-no more, fuck, ugh!” obviously it’s a plea for mercy, but to his traitorous brain, it sounds like—

Ford frowns, looking way too serious than usual as he tries to make his dirty thoughts go away, tries to focus on the wound and not the way your skin feels, but goddamn why are you so soft and warm and why he’s so damn close to you. And then his gaze betrays him, lowering down to the curve of your inner thigh, so close to where the hem of your panties teases him mercilessly.

“That’s enough, please!” you begin, biting down on your lip as the pain grows.

“Don’t move too much, it’ll hurt more,” Ford’s tone sounds rougher than he meant to. “I’m almost done.” 

She’s in pain, you disgusting old idiot. She’s fucking suffering and you’re—

“Please, stop!” 

Ford freezes, stiffening. That’s enough, you’d said, but it’s not, it’s fucking not. It’s never enough. Not your skin, not your voice, not the way you cling to him, not the way you beg, not the way you look at him.

The cotton pad is soaked now in your blood too, pressing too hard against your skin before Ford even realises it. You wince, gasping again and Ford can't help it anymore. His eyes drop to your panties, how they hug your body and his cock twitches in his pants.

He’s a grown man. He should be able to handle this. But all he can see is you, laid out before him like this, looking at him with those needy eyes, begging him to take you, to fuck you.

“Just sit sti—” before he finishes his sentence, he unintentionally presses the cotton harder into your wound, too lost in his own fantasies and the sharp burst of pain makes you hiss so you move involuntarily, your leg jerking straight into his crotch and—

You feel it.

Your foot accidentally brushes against something unmistakably hard. You didn’t mean to move that way, absolutely. But the second your limb drags against him, you feel it. The hardness beneath his pants. His body reacting to you. To this.

And neither of you move.

Ford is first to speak.

“I— I’m sorry,” he blurts. “It’s a natural physiological response. Adrenaline, heightened states of focus, they can trigger. . . well, unintended reactions. Nothing to do with— nothing to do with you.”

The sharp pain in your thigh momentarily forgotten. “Physiological response?” you repeat. “Ford, are you seriously trying to explain away your. . . uh, situation with biology?”

“It’s not what you think. It’s involuntary. Biological. A man’s body doesn’t always obey his mind. It doesn’t mean anything.”

He sounds so awkward, so flustered and you don’t know what to think. He’s not usually like this. . . well, not around you. Around you, he’s always so collected, always the smart, serious, intellectual Stanford Pines who wouldn’t bat an eye at anything that didn’t involve research.

You try to click pieces together, processing. He feels something for you. That’s the only explanation. He wouldn’t be this flustered, this desperate to excuse himself, if he didn’t.

And now you know. Ford’s just as human as the rest of us. And he wants you, too.

You move again, brushing your leg against him again and Ford wants to die because he makes the loudest surprised gasp in the room. “Doesn’t mean anything, huh?” you ask innocently. “so if I just move like this—” you press just a little firmer, feeling him growing harder. “it’s still just biology. Nothing to do with me at all?”

He’s silent.

“Ford, Is that. . . is that really how you feel?”

He sighs and darts his hand out to grip your leg to stop your teasing. “Don’t,” he warns, saying your name. His eyes meet yours for the first time all evening. “You don’t know what you’re doing.”

His eyes stay locked on yours. You’re silent now too.

“Don’t— don’t look at me like that. You don’t understand. I. . . shouldn’t have let it go this far.”

But you do understand, more than he could ever realise.

“But why?” your foot slides all over his hard clothed length and Ford’s body responds with his needy cock twitching at your touch.

“This isn’t funny,” he bites out. “this isn’t a game. I’m not a young man, im not— I’m not what you need.”

“You don’t get to decide what I need, Ford.”

“But you’re too young—”

“Stop treating me like I’m some kid who doesn’t know what she wants. I’m an adult, Ford, an adult!”

“An adult?” he repeats, while your foot is still rubbing over his very obvious bulge. “an adult who can't even get dressed normally for the weather?”

You grin, leaning closer to his face. “uh-huh. And here you are, all worked up over me, right?” you press on his cock harder and Ford nearly finishes in his pants. 

He grabs your ankle, even though he doesn’t push you away.

“This. . . now this is inappropriate.”

You rolls your foot over his bulge what makes hips buck just slightly. You bite your lip, grinning at how badly he’s losing control.

“You’re a fucking hypocrite, you know that?” you lean closer and murmur into his mouth. “you’re so worried about what I can handle, but look at you. You’re the one who’s hard as rock right now, who can’t control himself.”

“Enough, I’m serious, stop.”

“Make me.”

That’s all it takes. It’s your smirk that gets him, your teasing voice, your dirty remarks, even as you’re sprawled out on the bed with that horrible wound on your thigh.

Ford is on you in a second. His mouth crashes against yours and you don’t even realise what’s happening yet. His kiss is messy and needy, like he’s trying to consume you whole. And you give yourself to him completely, your body melting into his. Every surprised gasp of yours is swallowed by him, his big hands gripping your face as he deepens the kiss. It’s so messy, the way Ford literally fucks your mouth with his tongue.

And you can’t help but tug at his clothes, dragging him closer until he’s on top of you. Ford’s weight presses into you and your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling at it as your body presses against his, your heart pounding so hard you swear he can hear it too. Ford is barely restraining himself from ripping off the rest of your clothes, that oversized T-shirt and panties, and fucking you right here, making all his fantasies come true, which he wrote down in his journal.

His mouth devours yours like he’s starved for you, his hands yanking you closer like he’s holding on for dear life. You let him claim you, let his kiss swallow every thought in your head until there’s nothing left but him, just him, him, him, him. You’re drunk on the way he feels. His hands are everywhere, pulling and tugging at you like he’s losing control. And oh god, you feel it.

You can’t get enough of it. You want more.

Ford is too lost so he lets six-fingered hand slip lower, brushing the side of your thigh and then it lands right where it shouldn’t.

Your fresh wound.

You gasp in pain, breaking the kiss.

“Damn,” Ford instantly pulls away, and his hand is next to your wound, concern and fear are visible on his face. “i’m sorry, i didn’t—”

“Fuck it,” you interrupt, pulling him closer. “worry about that later. I need you now. Please, Ford, just kiss me again.”

But looks like Ford is interested in your wound more than in kiss now.

He’s already inspecting the bandage, ignoring your begging, his brows furrowed with guilt. “i wasn’t thinking, im sorry, does it hurt? did i—”

Why men are so stupid, you think and grab his chin, forcing him to look at you, but he talks first.

“Let me—” he clears his throat, blinking before continuing. “no, let me bandage your leg. We need to, uh, stop the bleeding.”

“Ford,” you groan. “It’s fine. It’s not even that bad now.”

“Not that bad?” he looks you with a glare that’s somehow equal parts concern and anger. “that’s not how infections work, young lady. You could lose a limb if this festers.”

You groan in frustration, rolling your eyes, but he’s already kneeling in front of you. “This is really what you’re worried about right now?” you drawl, raising your brow.

“Yes, this is what I’m worried about.”

And here he is again, between your legs, his hands are still careful as they work, bandaging your inner thigh. Ford is trying so hard not to look at the very place he’s so devastatingly close to. He pulls the knot of the bandage just too tight what makes you let out the softest, unintentional moan.

“You— you cannot make noises like that right now. Stop making this harder than it already is.”

The corners of your lips curl and you lean back on your palms, unbothered. “Says the man who’s between my legs right now.”

“You got a point,” Ford lifts his brows as he clicks his tongue, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “clever girl.”

When he finally finishes tying off the bandage, he proudly looks at the work he done and pulls away, wait, pulls away? However, you don’t let him get far. Your hands drag him back down with a force that surprises him and maybe yourself.

The kiss you pull him into is anything but delicate. It’s urgent and hungry. Ford groans against you as if you’ve stolen the last bit of air he had left. Your fingers fist the fabric at his shoulders and when he tilts his head to deepen the kiss, his tongue sweeps over your bottom lip. 

“Been waiting for this,” you confess between gasps. “Ford, I need you.” 

His forehead presses against yours. “You think I don’t? I’ve needed you. God, you have no idea. You drive me insane.”  

“Need you,” you breathe, arching up into him. “Ford, please. . . need you so bad.” he swallows your words with another passionate kiss, this one deeper, slower. His teeth catch your bottom lip, pulling a whimper from you that goes straight to his cock.

His lips trail lower, pressing kisses along the curve of your jaw, the slope of your neck. His teeth graze against your skin making you shiver because you feel like on damn fire, so sensitive for him.

“Ford, ah,” you breathe, tilting your head to give him more room as his kisses grow bolder, hungrier. He’s so desperate he can’t seem to stop himself, mouthing at your collarbone, your throat, anywhere he can reach while he mutters how beautiful you are.

Your hand trembles as it finds his, wrapping around his wrist and guiding him down. “Ford, please, touch me there,” you whimper against his lips now, spreading your thighs apart to make space. “need you. . . need your fingers, your hand, please.”

Ford hesitates at first, as if he doesn't fully believe what he sees in front of him, the object of his fantasies, his clever girl, which he wrote about in his journal, right beneath him, begging for his touch, for his love. It seems like his genius brain cannot comprehend what is happening yet.

Finally his hand moves, two fingers, one extra, rubbing you through the fabric of your panties and the sound that leaves your mouth sounds like a desperate needy sob. His forehead drops against yours as his fingers press against the dampness pooling there.

“You’re so wet,” Ford drags his thumb slowly over your clit. “is this all for me?”

“Yes, yes, all for you,” you gasp, writhing under his touch, bucking your hips up into his hand. “only you, Ford— fuck, just keep touching me, please, need more— need you. . .”

“I know,” he mutters, kissing you hard enough to steal the words from your tongue. “i know, sweetheart, i know.”

Ford’s fingers tugs your panties to the side and you both groan when he finally touches you bare. You squirm, swaying your hips to grind against his hand and he curses again, moving his lips to your neck, kissing and nipping as if he can’t stand being apart from you for even a second.

“Y-you’re driving me insane,” he breathes. “been dreaming about this, you have no idea, been wanting you for so long.”  

“Good,” you manage a weak smile, whimpering when he circles your clit with his thumb. You curl your nails into his shoulders. “then fucking do something about it.”

Stanford groans at your words, his cock twitches, begging to be taken care of, but his pleasure doesn’t matter now. You’re so hungry for his touch and Ford needs to touch you badly, so he slips his fingers through your folds, caressing you while still rubbing your clit in torturous circles. “like this? does this, does this feel good?”  

“Yes, yes, oh my god! more, more, give me more,” you cry when he sinks one finger into you, curling it just right.

“God, I wanna—” but he cuts himself off when his eyes notices that damn bandage on your leg.

“What?” you question and press a light kiss to his cheek, your eyes searching his face. “what do you want?” 

“You,” he admits. “I want to be inside you, want to feel you around me, want to, b-but you’re hurt, and I— fuck, I can’t, I can’t risk it.” 

You whine, your head falling back as his fingers keep moving, sliding in and out of your pussy, brushing against that spot that makes you see stars. “don’t care,” your thighs clenching around his hand. “i don’t care, just need you, need your cock— fuck, please!”

“Please, don’t say that, don’t say that when I can’t give it to you.”  

“Ford, please, I need it! I’ll be fine, I swear—”  

“No, you’re hurt, this is all i can give you right now. . . but i swear, I swear i’ll make it up to you, honey, when you’re better, when you’re not hurt, i’ll—” his fingers thrust deeper into your wetness with his thumb circling your clit in time and you interrupt him with loud cry.

“Ford! please, just don’t stop, please don’t stop—”

Ford nods and watches you. Letting his fingers curl inside you, penetrating deeper into your pussy. His movements growing more confident as your body reacts to him, your beautiful moans spurring him on. His lips find yours again and you both get lost in the kiss, in the way your breaths mix, in the way your bodies press together like you’re trying to fuse into one.

Your moan breaks into a cry as you arch your back, eyes closed tight when Ford’s fingers pumping into you faster, your spongy walls tightening around his digits. Oh fucking heaven, that extra finger feels too good. “Ford, please! oh, god— fuck, you’re gonna make me—”  

“That’s it,” Ford’s lips trail up to your ear, kissing and biting it as he presses his thumb on your sensitive bundle. “let me take care of you, sweetheart, cum for me.”  

His tone and praise is what sends you on edge as you clench around his fingers, moaning his name and cumming while his fingers, slower, but still thrusting into you. You feel so weak and tired, but your Ford is right there to catch you, whispering soft praises into your hair as you shake in his arms.

Ford’s fingers still buried deep inside you as he watches you come down from your high. And it’s so obvious that he putted your needs before his own because his cock, hard as a rock now, strains against the fabric of his pants, creating the most painful bulge you ever seen. He shifts awkwardly, hoping maybe you won’t notice but you do. Oh, you do.

“Ford,” your voice sounds honeyed as you regain your strength. Your gaze drops pointedly to the tent in his pants. “you’re. . . so hard.”

His face flushes and he tries to pull away, to create some distance between you, but you grab his wrist, stopping him.

“Don’t,” you whisper softly. “don’t hide from me. you’ve been so good to me, let me. . . let me do something for you.”

“No,” he says quickly. “you’re hurt. I can’t, you need to rest.”

“Just look at you, you’re aching. You don’t have to do anything to me, just let me help.”

“Oh my god,” he says your name as if ready to scold you. “you’re impossible, you know,” but his shaky hands move to his belt anyway, unsure, like he’s warring with himself even as he undoes it.

“Yeah?” you lean back. “you’re about to jerk off in front of me, Ford, what does that make you?”

Ford cant find any smart or logical response to that because you’re absolutely right, he’s the mess here, the impossible one, the desperate old man. He takes a breath, finally pulling his cock free and fuck, he’s so hard as if he’s going to explode, the head flushed and leaking.

Ford’s cock is already in his hand, the first strokes making him whimper under his breath. His other hand rests on your thigh, fingers nervously flex like he’s desperate to touch more of you, to hold you, to worship you properly like his clever girl deserves, but he’s so lost in this intimate moment, in you, that he can barely think straight.

You’re watching him, trying to control yourself because if you won’t, you might just jump on him and you can't vouch for yourself. 

You’re sprawled out in front of him like a dream come to life: t-shirt rucked up, legs spread, panties pushed to the side, leaving your pretty glistening pussy on full display for his starved gaze. Fuck, you look so hot like that, from everything he’s already done to you. He’s trying not to stare and you think he’s so silly when it’s specially show made only for him, so you shift your hips just enough to catch his attention, drawing his eyes like a magnet.

“Touch yourself for me. Show me how much you want me.” your eyes locked on him, drinking in the sight of his hand moving over his length.

Ford’s chest heaves, his hand grips his cock, which is twitching and flushed an angry red at the tip. But looks like poor old man can’t even jerk himself off properly, so you reach your hand out to brush against his wrist.

“Here,” you purr, guiding his hand with your smaller one, wrapping your fingers around his, forcing him to stroke himself teasingly. At that, Ford’s hips jerk up into your shared grip, and you hum approvingly, watching as his lips part in a groan. “yes, like this, honey. Let me help you.” 

“S-sweetheart. . . you don’t— ah— you don’t have to—”

“But I want to,” you lean back against the bed, shifting your hips, making sure he has the perfect view of your soaked, glistening slit. “Don’t hold back, i want you to feel good.”

Ford lets himself get a bit more vocal as he groans, his hips buck into your joined hands and his cock twitches against your palm. He’s so fucking hard, leaking against your skin, and the sounds he makes as he strokes himself are too good to be true, yet here he is, in front of you, jerking himself off, moaning your name. 

“You. . . o-oh god, sweetheart, you’re incredible,” he whines as you guide his hand again, showing him exactly how to squeeze, how to work himself the way you know he needs it. Meanwhile his other hand braces against the mattress near your head, his knuckles white as he struggles to keep himself together.  

“You’re so big, Ford,” your eyes glued to his dick, watching every move with hungry fascination. “you’re so handsome, so beautiful. I could look at you all night.”

He groans at your praise, more pathetic this time, his forehead dropping forward as he stares at where your bodies almost meet. “Christ, you’re gonna ruin me, love.” that’s when his strokes falter for and you take over completely, your warm hand wrapping around his length and pumping him up and down.

“Keep going,” you urge, feeling yourself getting wetter too. “i can’t stop thinking about how good you’d feel inside me. id take all of you, id make you feel so good, Ford. I need you, all of you.” soft whisper into his lips while all Ford can do is fuck your hand pathetically, your thumb sweeping over his tip, smearing the slick there.

Ford digs his fingers into your thigh, trembling. “Don’t— oh god, don’t say that,” he gasps. His eyes are locked on your opening, on the way your arousal glistens, your folds so wet and swollen and inviting.

“Don’t you want to touch me? Don’t you want to feel how wet i am for you?”

“God, I do,” he breathes as his hand joins again, moving together with yours, faster, jerking himself off faster. “I want you so much it hurts. I’d do anything. . . anything for you.”

“Then come for me,” you whisper, reaching out to thread your fingers into his hair when you kiss the corners of his parted trembling lips.

“I can’t— oh god, sweetheart, I can’t hold on much longer.” thick ropes of his cum spills across your thighs and even stomach, marking your skin as he makes a mess of himself. His hot seed drips down over your hand where you keep stroking and caressing him, milking every last drop forcing whines and mewls from him.

He collapses forward after and buries his face against your shoulder. 

“I need you so badly,” he murmurs into your skin. “you don’t know how much I want you. You don’t know what you do to me.”

You hum softly, threading your fingers through his damp hair as you press a tender kiss on his forehead.

***

It’s morning and sweet scent of batter and syrup fills the air. The noise and conversations are coming from the kitchen and there’s only one explanation for the chaos: Stanley is cooking “stancakes.”  

You’re by his side, propped against the counter, balancing on your good leg, watching Stan cook. Spatula in one hand, the other parked on his hip and he radiates confidence, as if he is ready to host his own cooking show.

“Now listen up, kid,” he says in a voice full of pride. “these are world-famous stancakes. they’ve been called ‘edible’ by at least two people, well, three, if you don’t count the pig.”  

“Oh.”  

“Oh” he repeats, incredulous, spinning to face you with mock offense. “don’t tell me you’ve never had stancakes before?!”  

You grin, shaking your head. “not once. I think Ford’s been keeping them all to himself.”  

Stan looks like you’ve just offended him.  

“That’s practically a felony in this house! what, Ford never mentioned ‘em? selfish bastard.”  

You laugh softly.

“but i gotta ask,” Stan continues. “any allergies to elbow grease? or, uh, whatever was at the bottom of the flour jar. pretty sure it was flour. maybe. . .” he winks and you roll your eyes, however the conversation continues good and friendly between you. 

Your hand rests on the counter for balance and you look down, at the faint tug of the bandage around your leg, which works as reminder of the night before. Memories of Ford’s hands, his mouth, the way he moaned your name, how he touched you, heat your cheeks until you force yourself to focus on Stan.  

His spatula waves in your direction again. “so, what’s the story with yer leg? take a tumble down the stairs, or was it somethin’ spooky out there in the woods?”  

You give him a wide smile. “let’s just say it’s a story. remind me to tell you later.”

Stan raises a brow curiously, but he doesn’t push. Instead, he turns back to his stancakes with a grunt. “hmph, fair enough. just glad you didn’t end up worse. Y’know, if ya ever need lessons on landing on yer feet—”  

Before he can finish, his brother steps into the room and you immediately turn your gaze to him. Honestly, he looks like he’s spent the entire night replaying everything. 

“Ah, there you are,” Ford murmurs when his gaze finds you, then he clears his throat and nods to his twin. “good morning, Stanley.”  

Stan doesn’t miss a beat, gesturing with his spatula. “yeah, mornin’, sixer. Yer just in time for the best damn pancakes this side of the multiverse.”  

At that, Ford’s lips curve into a polite smile as he glances at his brother. “that’s good to hear.” then his focus changes, locking entirely on you. His intonation changes into something warmer as he speaks your name. “would you mind if i borrowed you for a moment? just for a quick talk.”  

You nod a little too eagerly. “sure, of course.”  

Stanley lets out a dramatic sigh, waving his spatula at Ford. “don’t keep her too long, poindexter. She’s gotta try these pancakes before they go cold!” 

Ford leads you to his study and you follow, heart thundering in your chest. You’re grinning like an idiot, barely containing your excitement. He’s finally going to say something, but you’re so fucking ready to hear, to discuss, to scream the loudest “YES” when he’ll ask you to be his girlfriend.

When the door clicks shut behind you, he turns and you finally see his face. He’s always so serious, just like right now. But what did you wait? It’s Ford Pines, it’s his normal state. However, you’re so excited you sure he can see the way you’re literally glowing.

You really try to act casual, but inside, you’re absolutely going insane, nervous, happy, excited at the same time. Last night still feels like a fever dream, you can feel the ghost of his touch on your skin, the heat of his body against yours, the way his fingers slid so perfectly into you. . . 

And now he’s here, just the two of you, and you’re hoping he’ll finally acknowledge the thing that happened between you.

But then he opens his mouth.

“So, about the anomaly. . .” he begins and the words hit you like a slap.  

No, no. No no no. Are you hearing this right?That’s what he’s leading with?! After everything that happened last night, he’s just. . . no, he’s talking about the damn anomaly like he didn’t just leave you trembling with the memory of his fingers inside you. 

Your smile falters fucking immediately, your shoulders stiffening as he goes on, completely oblivious to the storm of disappointment brewing inside you.  

“I’ve been reviewing the notes I took last week. If my calculations are correct, the creature’s molecular structure—”

What the actual fuck.

Your jaw clenches. You stare at him, thinking it’s some kind of joke. He’s talking about science. Fucking science. After everything that happened, this is what he wants to talk about? He’s here, rambling about molecules and rain like none of it ever happened.  

You can’t stand it. The frustration takes over you.

“Ford,” you hiss as you shove him back against the wall.

His eyes widen in surprise, but you don’t let him speak. You press your palms flat against his chest, pinning him there, your voice shaking with anger. All you can think about is how he’s standing there like some fucking genius, talking about molecules and data when last night, you’d literally devoured each other.  

“Are you kidding me? This is what you wanted to talk about? You’re seriously standing here, talking about anomalies and notes like last night didn’t fucking happen?”

For a second, he just looks at you, his face calm and that makes you practically vibrate with rage, the intensity of your emotions making your head spin.  

And then. . . he smirks.  

The bastard smirks.

“I wasn’t aware we had plans to debrief, sweetheart,” your fingers tighten against his chest and he raises a brow, clearly amused by your reaction. “Though I must admit, you’re surprisingly strong for someone with an injured leg. Should I be worried?”

Your face burns as you glare up at him. “Ford, don’t you dare—”

“Well?” his gaze piercing through you. “What is it you want me to say, sweetheart?”

His fucking teasing is driving you crazy.  

“Are you seriously just gonna pretend like it didn’t happen? That you didn’t— god, Ford—"

“Pretend? Oh, but don’t get ahead of yourself.

I think you’ve got a lot more to say about what happened than you’re letting on, huh?”

Your cheeks burn hotter than they ever have before. You didn’t expect that. You really didn’t.

“Are you seriously gonna tease me about last night? You’re unbelievable,” you mutter, but you’re so worked up now that you don’t even care. You push yourself closer, getting right up in his space, your chest touching his, and now you’re just fuming.

“I’m the one who teases you? Interesting. . .” he leans to your face, brushing his lips against your ear. “What else did I do to you that made you so worked up last night? I didn’t think I was that good with my hands.”

“You bastard.” you hiss as you pin him against the wall harder.

He tilts his head at your words. “Careful, love, I wouldn’t want you to strain that leg of yours again. Especially not after I spent so much time taking care of you last night.”

Your breath catches in your throat. The nerve of this man! You want to slap him, to push him away, but instead, you pull him closer

“You better watch yourself, Ford.” You give him a dangerous smile. “You think you can just pay with me like this? You’re not as clever as you think.”

Ford’s smirk widens. “Oh? You think you’ve got the upper hand? I’ve got you pinned right where I want you, sweetheart.”

And then his hand trails down your arm to your waist. 

“And if you’re still mad, I can think of a few ways to work out that frustration.”

Your body goes cold and hot all at once, and it takes everything in you not to melt into him. 

Ford is still against the wall where you pushed him, calm as ever, obviously enjoying every second of this, he thinks he’s the one in control.  

Your pulse hammers in your ears, your hands trembling against the chest of his sweater. He’s so warm, and god, you hate that even now, even while you’re mad at him, you can’t stop remembering the way he looked last night. The way he sounded when he let himself fall apart under your touch. 

“You’re insufferable. Worse than Stan.”

“Am I? Because from where I’m standing, you’re the one pinning me to a wall. Quite forcefully, might I add. It’s a little ironic, don’t you think? Considering how you were. . . what’s the term? Begging for me last night?”

Your jaw drops.  

“Begging? You think I was begging for you?”

Ford looks entirely too pleased with himself. “Well, I seem to recall a certain. . . eagerness on your part. Particularly when—”

“You don’t get to talk about my eagerness.” you cut him off, your cheeks flaming. “Not when you were the one moaning my name like your life depended on it.”

That shuts him up.

His smirk falters slightly, and you see the faintest hint of red creeping up his neck. Oh. Oh. Fucking finally. You’ve got him now.  

“That’s right. Stanford Pines, world-renowned genius, reduced to a trembling mess because I—” and to kill him for sure, you lean in to whisper into his lips. “jerked you off.”

Ford goes completely still.  

There’s nothing but silence. His genius mind working, his lips parting slightly like he wants to say something, but no words come out. His face is a mess of conflicting emotions, embarrassment, frustration and something you can’t quite place but looks suspiciously like agreement.

“Got nothing to say now, huh?” you tease, grinning like an absolute maniac. “What happened to all that confidence, Professor?”

“Well played.”

***

Life at the mystery shack doesn’t feel much different, not outwardly. Stan still grumbles about the bills, the tourists still gawk at the exhibits, and Ford. . . Ford is still Ford, except now he’s yours.  

Yours.  

The nights are quieter between you both, more intimate, full of moans and groans, petting and foreplay. Like last night, when his clever hands had slipped beneath the waistband of your pajama pants, his soft and needy voice told you he wanted to make you feel good.  

God, he did. You’d come on his fingers so good, trembling as he whispered your name and called you his good girl, while kissing your cheeks, wiping your tears of pleasure away. And he’d let you touch him too while your hand worked up and down on his pulsing cock and then he spilled against your skin, while you silenced him with a kiss.

No, it actually feels good, really. It’s better than nothing, than not touching him at all, but. . . you crave, you need something else. Something that is not just his fingers, mouth, or hands.

Ford is so careful, so cautious about your stupid leg, his gentle excuses about your injury making you want to scream into a pillow. Like, yeah, it still hurts sometimes, but you can walk, run, pin him against a wall, fuck him six ways to sunday if he’d just let you.  

Ford has his own fears, even if he won’t admit them outright.

But you’re not afraid. 

The woods, your anomaly huntings, are different now too. More dangerous, you’d say. 

You’re pressed against a tree as Ford’s mouth claims yours. His hands are everywhere, gripping your waist, sliding up under your clothes, pulling you closer, closer, like he can’t get enough.  

“Ford, aah, please,” you whimper, pulling him down to kiss you deeper. His knee nudges between your thighs, pressing against you and you swear you’re about to melt into a puddle right there in the dirt.  

“Quiet, sweetheart, don’t want the whole forest knowing how desperate you are for me.”  

But it’s him. . . it’s fucking him who’s desperate, dropping to his knees to pull your pants down just enough, fingers slipping into your panties to find you already soaking.  

“So wet already, holy multiverse,” and then his fingers are inside your pussy as he presses kisses to your thighs and stomach.

But you need to touch him too. Your hands are on him again, tugging at his belt, fumbling with the button of his pants. His cock is hard when you pull him free and you stroke him until he’s shaking, gasping against your neck.  

“My love, i’m gonna—” his hips jerks into your hand as he cums, splashing his hot and thick seed all over your fingers. But he doesn’t stop,  his own six fingered hand working you until you finish with a strangled cry, pussy clenching around him as you nearly fall, when he catches you, whispering how beautiful you are.

You both collapse against each other, sticky and hot, despite coldness of autumn, grinning like idiots. And then Ford leans in to kiss you again, like he’s already planning the next round.  

At dinner, it’s you who starts it.  

Your leg brushes his teasingly under the table that has him choking on his water. Stanley doesn’t notice, too busy ranting about some tourist who tried to haggle over a snow globe, but Ford shoots you a warning look.

You just smile sweetly while also agreeing with Stan about his tourist speech as you press your foot higher until you’re brushing against the hard line of his length beneath the table.  

The lab is worse.

He’s sitting at his desk, scribbling in his journal with you perched on his lap, your arms around his shoulders, your hips rocking against his as you kiss the side of his neck.  

“You’re distracting me,” says fucking Ford with his hands on your hips, guiding your movements as his already hard cock strains against his pants.  

“Good,” you kiss his cheek, grinding down harder, feeling him twitching beneath you.

But every time you try to push it further, every time you reach for him, ask for more, he stops you.  

“Your leg,” but it sounds like he’s trying to convince himself as much as you.  

“But i’m fine—”  

“No,” he interrupts, shaking his head. “i’m not risking it, not yet.”  

***

The November crisp air bites at your skin. The faint smoky warmth of the fire crackling in the yard. Well. . . It was Stanley's idea to do this, he said something about rekindling childhood memories, family bonding and roasting marshmallows like it was summer camp, but he's not here. Something about a "quick run to the diner for pie" turned into him being away for whole evening, leaving you and Ford alone under a shining starry sky.

“You know, for a guy with six fingers, you’re surprisingly bad at this,” you tease, leaning back on your hands as you watch Stanford squint at the marshmallow impaled on his skewer. It's already starting to charred, the edges curling into blackened flakes as the fire devours it. “do they not teach you how to roast marshmallows in the multiverse, professor?”

Ford chuckles softly at your words. “Oh, excuse me, but i’ll have you know i’ve mastered much more complex techniques than this primitive. . .” the marshmallow slides clean off the stick and lands with a soft plop into the embers. Ford stares at it, annoyed. “cooking method.”

You can’t help how cute he looks so you laugh. “You’re hopeless,” you brush your shoulder against his, smiling. “here, let me show you.” Ford nods, handing you the stick. “first rule,” you skewer a new marshmallow. “don’t hold it so close to the flame. you want it golden, not a cremation. You’ve gotta keep it turning. Patiently, like this.” you rotate the stick slowly and Ford actually watches, his gaze is not on the fire, but on you. 

“i see,” he says thoughtfully. “golden, not charred.”

“Exactly,” you let marshmallow toast evenly. “you just have to—” you glance up to check on him and Ford’s still watching you. It steals the breath from your lungs and you gulp awkwardly. “. . . focus,” you finish a little quieter. “why you’re looking at me like that?” you smile.

Ford laughs. “maybe in some universe, you do dress appropriately for the weather?” 

You blink at him, thrown off for a second, before realising. Oh. . . oh, right. Your teeth chatter slightly, fingers cold and you’re shaking slightly, it’s so obvious. “i guess no?”

Ford doesn’t even dignify that with a response. Instead, he’s already shrugging out of his coat and draping it over your shoulders before you can protest, but it’s not like you wanted to anyways. His trench coat is heavy and smells just like him and your smile couldn't get any wider.

“Thanks, again. . . heh,” you try to sound nonchalant, but the coat is still warm from him and you clutch it around you tighter.

“So, you were saying?” Stanford prompts, tilting his head toward the marshmallow in your hand.

You clear your throat. “Right, uh, where was i? oh, yeah. so, you’ll know it’s ready when it’s this perfect golden brown all over, not a single—”  

“Give me a kiss,” Ford says suddenly, interrupting you like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

You’re not sure who leans in first. You, probably, but he meets you halfway. Ford’s lips are warm, so soft against yours. Your heart stutters in your chest as blood rushes in your ears, one of his hands comes up to cradle your face, his thumb brushing feather-light against your cheek. Your hands find his chest, fingertips pressing into his sweater as you you sigh into him.

The kiss deepens, not hurried, but like you’ve both waited far too long for this moment. Ford leans into your touch like he’s been craving it just as much as you. 

When you finally pull back, he rests his forehead against yours and none of you speak, both quiet and only fire is crackling softly beside you.  

“I think i might be terrible at marshmallows.” Ford smiles shyly.

You blink at him, you lips still tingling from the kiss, your head feeling too light to even process his words at first. Oh god the whole moment so tender, so beautiful, so intimate it almost makes you want to cry. 

“Ford,” and he hums softly in response.

“Hmm?”

“Give me another.”

Ford doesn’t need to be told twice.  

This time, it’s you who closes the distance, but his lips crash into yours like he’s been waiting, holding himself back and now he simply can’t. His hand slides to the back of your neck as the kiss deepens, hotter, hungrier. You sigh into his mouth, your knees going weak beneath you, but Ford steadies you, holds you.

His coat slips off one of your shoulders as your arms wind around his neck, pulling him closer, closer, closer until there’s no space left, and even then, it doesn’t feel close enough.  

“Ford—” you manage to groan against his lips and he pulls back just slightly.

“What is it?” the way he’s looking at you, fuck, like he’s already undressing you in his mind, makes you feel dizzy.  

You pause, staring at him, at the mess of his hair, the faint flush dusting his cheeks, the way his lips are already red from kissing you. This man. This ridiculous, brilliant, beautiful man.  

“My leg,” you feel nervous out of sudden, afraid he might reject you again. “it’s— it’s healed now, you know. . . i can— i can handle more.”  

Ford freezes, thinking. And then. . . Oh.

He kisses you again, but this time it’s different, this time, there’s no holding back, no careful hesitation.

"Inside," your voice is trembling with anticipation. "please, Ford, let’s go inside."  

And god help you both, he doesn’t think he’ll be able to say no. 

***

Ford’s whole body is pressing you into the mattress as though he’s trying to meld you both into one. His hands grip the sheets beside your head and he’s so warm against you. He kisses you messily and desperately, too eager.

“Ford, please,” you whimper, lifting your hips and grinding up against his hard, pulsing length.

“Yes, Ive got you, I’ve got you,” his own voice trembling as one hand dives down, gripping your hip, trying to keep you still but failing miserably because he can’t stop himself from rutting into you. “im right here, my love, i’m gonna take care of you.” the bed creaks beneath the weight of both of you, but neither of you can hear it over the needy moans you two share.

You can’t stop the high pitched whine that escapes you as his knee slots between your thighs, pressing against you just right and you swear you’re losing your fucking mind. “Nngh, Ford, Ford, please,” your voice so fucking needy it feels embarrassing. 

Ford stops, just for a second, pulling back to take a good look at you. His eyes are blown wide, pupils black as they devour every little expression you make. “tell me, tell me what you need.”  

You nearly cry. “touch me,” you plead.

“Oh sweetheart, my good girl,” his trembling fingers brush the hem of your clothes, slipping underneath to glide against your skin, being so careful like you’re too delicate, too fragile for him, he’s afraid you’ll shatter if he’s not gentle. “i’m not going anywhere,” he promises, dragging his lips down your jaw, going lower to the sensitive skin of your neck. “i love you so much.” and before you can even think to respond, his mouth is on yours again, swallowing your moans because he’s desperate to consume every single piece of you. 

Oh, sweet fucking hell, you think when Ford lowers himself between your thighs looking like a man on his knees at an altar and you’re the goddess he’s about to worship. He spreads your legs wide, his six-fingered hands curling into the plush of your thighs and he just stares for a moment like he’s seeing heaven itself. His lips part, and his tongue darts out to wet them, the hunger in his gaze as if he can’t believe this is real.  

"My love," he groans. "so pretty, you’re so pretty. . . this is all mine, isn’t it? tell me, sweetheart, say it, say it’s all for me."  

“It’s yours, Ford,” you melt under his gaze, feeling so exposed and he hums in approval. 

“Good girl,” and then he dips his head down, brushing his lips against your inner thigh, kissing your healed wound. 

You grow impatient with every second, and fucking finally, he’s right here, his face hovering over your throbbing pussy which needs his attention so bad, and he takes a deep breath. 

Ford presses a kiss just above where you’re all wet and your hips jolt, seeking more.

“F-Ford! fuuck. . . fuck fuck fuck!” 

“Shh, just like that, i’ll take care of you,” he presses one hand firmly on your pelvis to keep you still. “just relax, darling, let me have you.”

You’re too far gone to even respond coherently, only letting out pathetic whimper as he drags his lips lower and lower until his warm mouth hovers right over your soaked folds.

His tongue presses flat against your pussy, slowly and oh fuck, you taste so damn sweet, Ford growls and that vibrates straight through you. “oh, god," he pants, pulling back before diving in again, "you taste. . . you taste so good, so sweet, like you were made for me." Ford’s voice muffled against you as his tongue flattens, dragging through your slick, tasting you. 

His hands grip your thighs tighter to hold your squirming body in place as he tilts his head to get a better angle. His lips seal around your puffy clit, sucking gently at first, then harder when your hips jerk up into his face. He holds you open because he’s not letting you go anywhere, his tongue flicks over that sensitive bundle of nerves until you’re sobbing his name.  

“Ford. . . oh god! Ford, too much—!” 

You’re trembling and panting as his tongue circles your little clit in soft lazy strokes that have your back arching off the mattress. You fist your fingers into the sheets as his lips seal around your sensitive clit, sucking gently before releasing you with a soft, wet pop.

“Taste so good,” Ford says more than all to himself. He licks into you now, dragging his wet tongue through your soft folds, lapping up everything you’re giving him like a man possessed. “g-give me more, darling, please. . . i need more of you.”

“Ford, Ford! Ford, i—” you buck your hips against his face as the wet sounds of his mouth on you fill the room.

“Mmhm, that’s it, sweetheart,” his voice muffled against your cunt as his lips brushes your clit, letting his fingers slide lower to tease your dripping entrance. “just let me make you feel good.”

Ford pulls back just enough to gasp for air, his lips and chin shiny with your slick and you swear he looks drunk, eyes glassy and pupils blown wide. “you taste so good,” he groans, diving back in immediately, never having enough, moving his mouth against you like he’s kissing you there, sloppily, noisily and so damn messy.

You’re not damn ready for what comes next. When his fingers finally slip inside, you nearly scream, two of them, then three with his extra middle one sliding into your soaked pussy, while another circles your clit, working in perfect tandem with his tongue. "so tight, so wet for me," his voice muffled as he sucks your clit into his mouth again. "give it to me, sweetheart. . . let me have it, be a good girl for me, yeah?"  

His pace quickens as your walls flutter around his fingers. But he doesn’t stop, not even when you’re writhing and tears streaming down your cheeks from the pleasure. He licks, sucks and slurps at you, addicted to the way you taste, the way you feel. “Ford, I’m gonna cum—”  

You cry out and jerk your hips against his face as you do. He growls, gripping you tighter, holding you still as his mouth moves faster, hungrier. Your walls spasming around his long fingers, your clit pulsing between his lips.

But Ford’s mouth doesn’t lift and doesn’t slow, even when your thighs tremble and your fingers push weakly at his hair to tug him away.

“No, Ford, please,” you gasp as he sucks your clit into his mouth, rolling his tongue against it in slow circles. “i-i can’t— too much. . . im sensitive, Ford—”  

But he doesn’t give a fuck, his grip tightens on your thighs to keep them spread wide. “Just one more, sweetheart,” his words slurred, drunk off the taste of you. “please-please, i need. . . one more, just one more for me.”  

You can’t hold back the loud cry that escapes you as his tongue dives back in, licking and lapping. Your legs jerk, trying to close, but his strong hands keep them locked open. “don’t fight me, let me, let me have you.”

“Ford, oh god—” your voice is broken as his tongue works all over your pussy, it’s overwhelming and unbearable, your entire body feels like a live wire as he devours you, never giving you a moment to recover.  

“that’s it, love, cum for me, please. . . be a good girl and cum on my face.”  

And you do again, god, you do, because there’s no stopping it. Your orgasm crashes over you again, ripping a scream from your throat as your back arches off the bed. Your vision whites out, your mind blank as your release floods through you.  

Ford moans into you as you come, his mouth latched onto your clit, his tongue lapping up every drop. When you start caressing his hair as if thanking him, he presses wet sloppy kisses to your trembling thighs. 

You’re still shaking and gasping for air, when he finally lifts his head, his chin glistening as he stares down at you and smiles. But you still can’t have enough, not satisfied, not when he haven’t been inside you and fucked you properly, you’ve been craving this for months and you totally go for it now. “Please, need you, Ford, please, i need you inside me.”  

He doesn’t even make any excuses this time when he kneels between your legs, his cock flushed and throbbing, the head slick with pearls of precum. “you sure?” is all he asks as his hands come up to cradle your hips.

“Yes, god, yes,” you plead, spreading your legs wider, your eyes glazed with need. “please, i can’t wait anymore! i need you.”  

He knows you do because he’s in absolutely same state as you, needy and desperate to fuck you, that’s why he’s pressing into you, the thick head of his cock stretching you open and you both moan loudly when he slides deeper, his girth filling you.

Ford is trembling above you, sweat slicking his brow as he inches himself inside carefully, terrified he might hurt you or worse, lose control. But you’re ready, so ready, your nails digging into his shoulders, “more, please, i can take it.”

Ford’s hips stutter as he bottoms out, his cock buried to the hilt. “Y-you’re so tight, sweetheart, so damn tight. i don’t— don’t know if i can move. . . feels too good. . . god, you’re perfect.”  

You’re no better because your walls clench around him and your voice so high and breathless as you cry, “so full, Ford— oh my god, you’re so big.”

“I know, love, i know,” he soothes, finding your parted lips with his as he starts to move slowly, making shallow thrusts that have you both gasping. “you’re doing so good, taking me so well, feels like heaven, baby.”  

You feel every inch of him, every twitching vein as he sinks deeper, the stretch delicious, making your head spin. Your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, urging him on. Your wet pussy squeezes his dick so good he nearly loses it right there.

And it’s too much, too good to be true, both of you letting out incoherent sounds and slurred praises as he thrusts into you, moving faster, his thick cock dragging against every sensitive spot inside you. You try to move together with him, creating a perfect sync.

“You feel so good, sweetheart, too good. i don’t— I don’t think i’m gonna last.”

“It’s okay,” you reply, cupping his cheek when you look right into his dazed eyes. “fuck me harder, Ford, please. . . need you so bad.”

He hears you, snapping his hips against yours, his pace quickening as he loses himself in you. Your moans about how good it feels fill the air while your hands are clawing at his back, nails biting into his skin as you try to pull him closer where it seems impossible. His scars feel rough under your touch as your fingers trace them blindly, making Ford moan at the sensation. His hips jerk forward, driving deeper and you cry out.

“So tight,” he groans into your ear. “you’re squeezing me, love, c-can’t think. . . you feel— oh, sweetheart, pussy so good.”

Your nails dig deeper, leaving crescents in his skin as he fucks into you with deep thrusts that have you gasping. “more, please, more,” you beg and he obeys without question, burying himself deeper, harder into your cunt.

“That’s it, love,” his hand slips between your hot bodies to find your aching clit, circling his fingers over the swollen nub with featherlight touches. “look at you. . . so beautiful, so good for me, you’re perfect, love. . . my perfect girl.”

Your vision blurs when he thrusts into you, at the same time his thumb presses down on your clit and a sharp cry spilling from your lips as the pleasure builds.

“Ford!” you whimper while your hands clutch at him. “oh god, i—”

“I know, love, i know, i feel it, let go for me, sweetheart, cum for me.

His beautiful voice and words are enough to pull you through another powerful orgasm, your body tense as you finish, breathless, boneless, drunk on his cock.

Ford’s dick throbs as your release slicks his length, dripping down to pool at the base of him. “you’re so wet, sweetheart, good girl.”

You cant think, not really, too fucked out and tired, your body trembles and you can barely take a breath, but Ford doesn’t stop, determined to fuck your brains out. His thumb circles your clit again and your hips jerk away, the overstimulation making you whimper. “n-no, wait— I’m sensitive—”

“Just one more, love,” he pleads. “please, baby, just one more for me. you can do it, I know you can.”

You try to close your legs and your body twitches with every touch, too much to handle, but Ford holds you open firmly, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses to your neck, your shoulder, anywhere he can reach. “you’re so good to me, so good, can’t get enough of you.”

He continues thrusting into you, filling your pussy to the brim and pulling out, slamming back again, you feel good, you do, especially with right amount of pressure being applied to your clit, but pleasure borders with sensitivity and little pain from overstimulation as he drags against that tender spot inside you. “Fuck, please! i can’t—”

“You can. You’re my good girl, you can give me one more, please, baby, cum on my cock again.” his words light a fire in your veins because the coil of pleasure tightening and building again despite the ache, despite all these overwhelming sensations. He fucks you so deliciously, grinding his hips into you in deep, slow rolls that make your toes curl and eyes roll, your nails scraping across his shoulders and back, all over his old scars. Ford groans at the sting.

“That’s it, love, just like that, let me have all of you.” he wets his fingers with saliva before bringing them on your sensitive nub again. “you like that? y-you like it when i touch you here, sweetheart? tell me, tell me how good it feels.”

“So gooood. . . feels so good, ford, don’t stop, please don’t stop, fuck me, fuck me!” and then you break again, another orgasm crashing over you, but this time you literally scream from how good it feels, your body convulses, your nails dig into his back with such force that blood comes out. Ford watches you come undone as he fucks you through it, his cock coated in your juices once again.

Ford cant hold himself anymore because you notice how his thrusts grow more deeper, harder, more erratic. His sweaty forehead is pressed against yours, his groans changing into desperate pants and you feel how close he is because his cock twitches inside you, his body trembles as he fights to hold on. “don’t w-worry, don’t worry, I’ll pull out— I’ll—”  

“No!” the word bursts out of you in a panic and immediately, you lock your legs around his waist to prevent that. “no, no, Ford, please, don’t, you can’t, don’t leave me, please—” your words tumble out in a frantic, incoherent mess, more sob than speech honestly as you cling to him like your life depends on it. “please,” you babble, your nails scraping against his skin, pulling him impossibly closer. “need it, need you, don’t pull out, please, please, please—”  

His surprised eyes fly open as he processes your words. “but—”

All you do is nod frantically in response, hot tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, your legs squeezing around his waist to keep him in place. “yes, inside, cum inside me, I need it, I need you to cum inside me”  

Ford groans as he gives in, his hips snapping forward with a force that makes you cry out. He holds your thighs, spreading you wider for himself as he buries himself to the hilt, as deep as he can go. He growls as his head falls back, he squeezes his eyes shut and just loses himself. “gonna— g-gonna cum inside you. . .”  

It happens, finally, his hips slam into you one last time and he finishes, his cock pulses as his cum paints your walls white. He hides his face into your neck while loud sound tears from his throat, halfway between a groan and whine. He rolls his hips, continuing to sloppily and lazily thrust into your pussy, grinding against you, unable to stop because he needs to give you every last drop of himself. “you’re— my love, so good, I feel so good. . .”

You lay under him and take it all, milking him for everything he has. Your fingers tracing his beautiful scars, ones you gave him now and his own ones, smearing a little blood over his skin, your legs tightening around him as you whimper, feeling every pulse of him, every twitch of his cock inside as he fills you. Oh god, such intimacy leaves you dizzy, your heart pounding so hard it feels like it might burst.  

“Thank you, Ford,” your body arches into him, asking, no, seeking more, always more. “feels so good. . .”

Ford finally comes back to his senses upon hearing your voice, he wraps his arms around you, holding you close as he shudders through the last waves of his orgasm. He presses kisses to your face, your neck, your shoulders. “I love you, i never want to let you go.”  

He pulls out with a shaky groan as he tries to catch his breath, his cock still glistening and twitching. But the loss of him leaves you feeling achingly empty, your walls clenching around nothing as a soft whimper escapes your lips.  

Ford is frozen above you, though, his chest heaving, his wide eyes fixed between your legs. The sight of his warm thick seed slowly trickling out of you renders him completely silent.

You let out a deep sigh, dazed, a dumb little smile curling at your lips as you look up at him, completely blissed out and so beautifully ruined. You trail your fingers down slowly, maybe to tease him once more, until finally dipping between your thighs to catch the mess he’s made.  

You circle your clit gently, then lowering your fingers to your hole, collecting his cum, covering your fingers with this sticky mess and Ford tracks every movement. And then, oh, you push it back inside, curling your fingers deep, your head falling back with a quiet moan as you savour every drop.  

Ford fucking whimpers at the sight as he watches you pump his sperm back into yourself.

“Don’t. . . don’t want to lose it,” you smile, looking at your scientist through half-lidded eyes, gaze unfocused. “don’t want it to go to waste, want to feel you.”  

Before you can say another word, he’s on you again. His hands spread your thighs wides when he positions himself at your entrance. Without word, he pushes back in, groaning as he stretches you open again. “you’re beautiful,” he gives you a kiss, while slowly fucking his cum back into you again, making sure to not miss a drop, letting it stay where it belongs.  

You hold him close, caressing his face and looking into his beautiful eyes. “I love you so much,” but you get interrupted by a little sudden thrust he makes. “oh, ah, Ford!” 

“Shh, i’ve got you, love,” Ford gives you a warm loving smile, rocking his hips gently. “you were so good for me, sweetheart.” he looks at you like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered, like he’d give you the whole world if you asked and he presses a soft kiss to your forehead. Your crazy heart thunders in your ears as you hug and cuddle him, lost in the way he fills you so completely, so perfectly, like you were made for this.

The two of you don’t even bother moving because there’s simply no energy left to clean up. Ford stays buried inside you with his heavy body on top of yours like a blanket. For the first time in life, you feel that safe, good and loved, warm and. . . full in every sense of the word.

Sometime later. . . hours? you’re not sure, but the soft gray light of dawn creeping through the curtains. You feel Ford’s broad chest pressed against your back and suddenly his hand skims up your thigh.

“Ford,” you murmur, half-asleep as his lips brush the curve of your shoulder. His hand finds your leg, gently lifting it as he settles himself against you. “yes, please. . .” you smile, closing your eyes as you feel his cock rubbing against your folds.

He kisses the side of your neck. “just need you again, can’t help it. . . need to feel your pussy around me.”

You moan softly as he slides into you from behind. The angle is perfect as he fills you, sending shivers through your sleepy body. His hand lays on your thigh, holding you steady as he starts rocking into you, slowly, still sleepy, but fucking deep, each thrust making you sigh and whimper.

“I’ll never get enough of you,” his free hand skims over your waist, cupping your breast and playing with your nipple.

Meanwhile your hand reaches back to clutch at his hip and your head falls back onto his shoulder, Ford drives deeper into your pussy. “Ford. . . oh, Ford, yesss. . . just like that.” you mewl sleepily when you feel his fingers on your clit. 

You dont know what time is it, probably very very early morning, but you let him take you. There’s no rush, no urgency, just sleepy, languid thrusts and quiet soft moans you two share in the early morning while being half awake.

The sun is higher now, casting autumn golden streaks across the room, when you wake again. You’re alone in the bed and your body deliciously sore, marked with the evidence of last night. . . and this morning. Faint marks of kisses and hickeys bloom along your skin, the ache in your thighs reminds you of how thoroughly he’d claimed you.

The blanket is all over you, keeping you warm despite your nudity. You stretch out, yawning and blink away the last traces of sleep, but you notice him at the edge of the bed. Ford sits with his scarred back to you, hair messy, but his posture is perfectly straight as he leans over his. . . ah, yeah, now you see it, journal.

He’s scribbling something down there, intense focused, face serious and you just lay there, enjoying comfortable silence and watching him, taking in the way he looks so handsome even in his rumpled state.

“Morning, genius,” you murmur finally.

Ford glances over his shoulder. “Oh, good morning, love,” he says warmly, setting the journal aside and moving to your side of the bed. He leans down to kiss you, brushing his hand over your hair. “how are you feeling?”

“Sore,” you admit with a smile as you stretch beneath the blanket.

Ford studies you. “i’d say that’s to be expected. Rest a bit longer, okay? I’ll make us something to eat soon.”

“You better hurry because i’m so starved,” you yawn, covering your mouth with your hand.

“Starved, are you? well, you’re taking a shower first,” he says seriously, though his tone remains gentle. “you’re not wandering around covered in. . .” he stops himself as his cheeks flush a little, trying to find right words to use.

“Hm? Covered in what, ford?” you tease, propping yourself up on one elbow.  

“You know what, honey, don’t make me say that.”

Your eyes flick to his journal. “what are you even writing in there, anyway? can’t believe you’re making notes after the night we had. Is it, like, some x-rated research?”  

Because of your question, Ford straightens up, his face expression changes, the earlier embarrassment melting away as excitement takes its place. He looks like he’s just cracked the secret of the universe. “actually,” he begins, adjusting his glasses, “i think i’ve finally solved the equation for that anomaly we’ve been tracking! The one that disappeared because of the rainstorm, remember? I had a theory about the dimensional distortion rate and this morning, it all just clicked!” Ford launches into an explanation now. 

You, however, just blink at him and knowing grin spreads across your face. “so, what you’re saying is. . . my pussy literally makes you smarter?”  

Ford stops mid-sentence as he stares at you, flustered. “i— I wouldn’t put it like that,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, looking everywhere except at you. “but. . . perhaps there’s a correlation. . .”

You just laugh, dropping back onto the pillows as you watch his awkward attempts to compose himself. “yeah, yeah, Ford, I got you.”

He grumbles something about inappropriate comments, but the corners of his mouth betray him, curving into a shy smile.  

“So, my pussy is the key to unlocking the mysteries of the universe? Who knew i was a genius all along.”  

Ford groans, hiding his face in his hands, “Oh my god,” he says your name. “you’re impossible.”  

[khuzena]

Not just a stone

Aventurine x f! reader

Summary: love, isn't that such a wonderful dream? Despite this, make sure to not get stuck in it. To be stuck in a dream is to abandon reality, yet this dream is all he has.

 Cw. Angst, smut, creampie ig, no comfort bc that's boring

A/n: wrote this under an hour and it's not proofread so 🤷

“All or nothing.”

For most of his life, he's always been just Aventurine. A polished gem, capable of handling anything you dish out to him. Whether it be a heavy workload or cruel treatment from others; his luck seems to never run out.

So when you came around, it was different. 

The way you gently took his hand in yours, your feather like kisses that tainted his forehead— he wanted to run. 

“I love you”, a soft moan escaped your lips as you arched your back from the harsh bending he put you through. 

He wants to see you break, to make you stop this madness; the madness being you treating him like an actual person, not the stoneheart or eccentric gambler. 

But he can't. 

For the first time in his life, he starts thrusting slowly, gently, making sure you're handled with care, as if you're porcelain. 

He leans down to bite on your neck, a part of him wanting to claim you. He's never owned anything that was truly his, that never left him. So when you stare at him with a gaze full of lust— is when he realised he could have something for himself. 

‘pap’, ‘pap’, ‘pap’, sweat trickled down his forehead as his digits snaked to your spent clit, the stimulation sending you over to the edge, is it so selfish to have you, is it so selfish to want you as his own? 

Aventurine does a pretty good job of pushing people away, no one ever had good intentions with his heart. 

For a man who never shuts up, the words are stuck in his throat— are they tears? No, no, he spent enough tears on the day of his capture of his old Master. So why? 

“I'm close—fuck…”, you sigh between gritted teeth, Aventurine lifted your legs onto his shoulders to hit that spongy spot deeper. It's too much. 

Only your wanton moans were heard in his usually empty apartment room. He'd take you out usually in fancy hotels, drowning you in riches till you forget how to breathe, making sure you're taken care of. He's silent. 

Your hole melted around his shaft, it felt utterly lewd on how he shaped your walls to the size of his cock, he can't bear to lose anyone anymore. 

As selfish, as shameless as it seems, he grinds his hips faster into yours, the palm of his hand squeezing your tit harshly as he wants— no he needs to destroy you. 

“Oh— fuck!”, a wave of pleasure washes over you, enough to drown out your senses and any other thoughts in your mind.

Despite this, he continues to move. 

His eyes blown out as he desperately chases his high, fuck. Was it really selfish to just taint every part of you as his so no one would ever dare take you away? 

Tears well up his eyes, not because you feel good, but because of how damn good you are at breaking him with that stupidly lovesick stare of yours.

 He needs to paint your walls white, to litter your skin with enough marks— inflict enough pain on you to make sure he's truly yours.  

The bed shook with his harsh thrusting, was he really making love to you or was he just trying to destroy you enough to be sure he can call you his? He doesn't know, he thinks it's the latter. 

With one more thrust, he never wants to leave this dream. Your eyes rolling to the back of your hand, those gentle hands who cup his cheeks to comfort him now harshly gripping on the sheets, the way you clench down on his cock like a vice— he feels wanted. 

Even if it's just your body that wants him, it's enough.

But you always give more than what you should. 

He smirks when he sees you writhing under him desperately, he's painted your walls white he's happy that he's destroyed you for any other man you'll ever meet again.

No matter how fucked out you are, you still had it in you to pull him towards you, to land a sweet kiss that he swears was just a dream. 

Why can't you just stop looking at him that way? 

“I love you,” again, a whisper so quiet yet it's all he could hear. He bites his lip in anxiety, “Stop saying that.”

“Why?”, why exactly? 

“Just stop,” none of you moved. It felt good being inside you, just plugging your used cunt to keep his cum in there. 

“I don't care, I love you”

He wants to scream, shout, and be angry with you. An aventurine stone is durable enough to withstand being worn in jewellery; it is relatively hard, so it should not break or crack easily. 

But when you're under him, every second, it's like he's about to crack, so close to breaking.

He's being so out of character, he thinks. 

He chewed his lip, the sight of you making him feel nauseous. You're as gentle as the sun, so why stick to him, why burn him until there's no more of him left? 

Do you take pleasure in this madness? Will you leave him just like everyone else? He thinks you're a mind reader, because how else would you know what he's thinking?

“I'm not going anywhere”, you give his arm a reassuring squeeze but it's not enough, “Stop, stop lying to me—”, “I'm not.”

Droplets of tears taint your skin, it burns more than any other hickey or scar he could ever give you, “Why would I lie to you?”

Time and time again, no matter how many times he tries to break you, to own you, it's always you who wins. He might ruin you for any other man, but you'll crush him like selenite under a hydraulic press. 

He can break your body, he can hurt and use you but he'll always be on the losing end because it would mean losing you. 

Again, you find a way to break him with a few words, “I love you.”

It's not a promise, it's your truth.

Like the pathetic man he is, he cries. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“I don't want to hurt you”, but you are. You are giving him something to own, not just your body, your love and soul. And for everything he can own, it's something he can lose. 

“Don't do this,” he starts moving again, maybe it'll be enough to drown out his tears with pleasure. 

Fuck— he flipped you over, then brutally jutting his hips into yours. He doesn't want to see your face, it's the last thing he needs to see. “A-aven…”

It feels good enough, good enough to forget the nonsense you kept spouting out earlier. 

“Shut up, just shut up.” He's far from gentle, he needs to break you, he'll succeed this time. 

He fucks into you with vigor, eyes trained on the bouncing of your ass, the pad of his palm slapping it brutally, leaving a fading red on the supple skin. 

“Why do you do this to me?” his voice raspy as his throat burned from tears, from your kindness, “Do you really want to see me break?”

You stay silent, letting him destroy your body, letting him slap each and every crevice, every nook and cranny of your body; because he needs it. 

You try to ignore the tears that dripped on your back, his aggressive grab on your waist. He cries. 

His voice going hoarse, his egocentric behaviour no more, “Answer me!” 

You lowered your head as he destroyed your cunt from the back, why can't he just stop this? Both of you are breaking. 

The more he tries to break you, he kills himself. 

“Please,” his ministrations slowing for a moment to let you think, you cannot ignore his pleas. 

Out of common courtesy in a conversation to reply, “It's not my fault you are.”

Ah.

“I hate you—,” “Aventurine, stop.” 

Your walls clamp down on his length, he goes faster, pulling your hair. At this point, he's trying to kill you, not just break you.

“Shut up, please…” he begs again. 

‘pap’, ‘pap’, ‘pap’, you oblige and don't say a word. One more, one more. You can't see his face but his breaths got heavier, you know he's crying too. 

Like a frenzied man, he goes faster until you can no longer take. He wants you to leave him so he doesn't have to lose you the way he's lost every other thing he's loved. 

Cum spurted on the bedsheets, a trademark for your stupid little affair. 

He pulls out, no longer wanting to be close to you, “Don't go,” are you out of your mind? No matter how many times he tries to push you away, you keep pulling him towards you.

“I can't promise that.” he gives in. 

“You don't have to, just stay.”

“I have to go.”

“Please.”

Just this once, it's okay to indulge in you. 

He stares at you with half-lidded eyes, desperate for validation. You stare back into his, with empty ones. Without a second thought, you hugged him, he knows you're all just a fleeting dream. 

He shudders against your touch when you leave familiar kisses on his neck, dangerously close to the barcode of ownership of IPC on him. He can't bring himself to tell you to stop. 

For all his life, he was Aventurine first, never Kakavasha. Tonight, he is not an Aventurine. Not the stoneheart, not the IPC's ornament. He is yours.

Enough time passed that you fell asleep, he draped the comforter on your used body. He can't bring himself to give you a final goodbye kiss. 

He closes the door quietly, knowing there won't be a next time. 

A voice rings in his ears, “Did you enjoy your dream? If so, leave a 5 star review!”

He sighs to himself, exiting the dreamscape.

Note: it's kinda meh since it was just a spur of the moment kinda fic and i forgot how to write good smut since its been a while 💀. I hope its okay.

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡ 

[takamiwife]

what keigo loves about different parts of your body

🔞this post is slightly nsfw. mdni pls and thank u :3🔞

💌 pls check the lil note at the end 💌

hair

this is a man who cares about hair. you thought all that volume was natural? no, he knows what he’s doing, but you make it seem so effortless. he’s even asked you to do his hair (definitely not bc he loves the feeling of your hands in his hair) when you two have extra time in the morning. but now he always has a brush of some sort on him for when you fly with him and you whine about how he ruined your hair (fair enough, me too girl). he loves the way it smells, and sometimes uses your nice smelling shampoo because why isn’t he allowed to smell like flowers and vanilla too?

eyes

god your eyes. he loves just staring at them. they’re so mesmerizing, they have a shade he’s never seen before. did you know you smile with your eyes? well, you do, and keigo loves it. keigo knows body language quite well, and while you two were still just going out, he remembers talking about something quite personal, something he’s never really talked about with anyone before, and when he looked over to you, your eyes were heavily dilated. sure, they had been your past few dates too, but never this much. it actually caught him off guard, the idea that you actually liked him for him? did you like him as keigo, and not hawks? that’s one of the few times he was left speechless in his life

lips

hey, it’s not his fault that they’re always so soft and plump, and you always wear such a pretty lipgloss that compliments your hair or your outfit. is the man not allowed to stare and enjoy them? he loves the way they feel against his own, and he loves your reaction to the gentle bites he does to them when things are getting heavy, or god, the shapes they make when he’s eating you out, tongue deep in your cunt, watching your perfect pretty lips make little ‘o’s as moans tumble out

tiddies

“ass or titties” why not BOF?? he can’t choose, and can you blame him? bro doesn’t care what size or shape they are, titties are titties. he thinks they look good in any top you wear. watching them bounce while he fucks you, or holding them in his hands while you ride him, fuck. just the thought turns him on. he’s having a bad day? send him some tiddy pics (bonus points if you’re in the shower and they’re a lil soapy) and dude is on cloud 9. recently, there was a picture of you two at a gala that went viral because while you were smiling, talking to someone else at the table, it seems keigo didn’t notice there was a camera because he was staring right at them in your dress (and who can blame him). more than all of that though, he loves laying on them. they’re his favorite pillow. crawling onto the couch or into bed and just sticking his face between them is a highlight of his day

hands

he feels selfish saying it, but he loves everything your hands do for them. besides them always being so soft and smelling so nice, they’re so kind to him. you brought him into your arms in a way no one else ever has. you hold him so tight or so soft depending on what he needs. the way your hands move to his cheeks when you kiss. how your fingers delicately trace his body when you’re laying in bed, how gently you scratch his head whenever he wants, and when you touch his wings, you do so with a certain care that no one has ever held for them

thighs

if ass and titties are tied for first, thighs are an extremely close second. he loves how sensitive your inner thighs are, how you jolt when he kisses them (especially after he’s already made you cum a bunch of times) and watching the dark spots form after he nibbles them. he consistently tells you that if you crushed his head with your thighs while he was eating you out, he’d die happy.

ass

again, “ass or titties” why not BOF??? god forbid you have to bend down for any reason, because suddenly the mf is spawned behind you, reeling his hand back as far as he can. (you had to explain to him what a gyatt was and why people were saying you had one after a picture of you two at the gym made the rounds on twt) doggy is one of his favorite positions. he loves manhandling your hips, nearly leaving marks from holding you so tightly. or, if he’s feeling extra mean, suddenly stopping as he leans into your ear whispering, “cmon baby, fuck back onto me. show me how bad you want it” just to hear you whine and eventually give in. but the rhythm of your ass hitting his hips is mesmerizing. it’s hard for him to just watch and not fuck into you as fast as he can, but with this, he’s definitely learning to take his time.

💌 hi hi everyone <3 first of all, i want to say thank you so much to everyone who’s been reblogging, liking, commenting, and following. you’re all such sweethearts and i’m so glad you enjoy what ive been posting. on that note, what would you guys like to see more of, or any specific requests? you can leave them in my inbox or in the comments and i’ll tag you :3 yall know i love keigo, but i can totally write about different bnha characters (or you can request other anime characters and ill let you know if ive seen the show! don’t hate me for being uncultured tho 😭) please keep in mind, if its a ua student im not comfortable doing nsfw. sfw is totally fine tho! i do have a couple ideas lined up for keigo tho. how do you guys feel abt nsfw posts? would you like to see more of them/have them incorporated more? (not into every post, but ykyk)

thank u for reading my little yap sesh, i love you all 💗

[grandlinedreams]

Hi hello unplanned acotar drabble bc I'm exhausted 'n why not use the 'can't sleep' trope? I don't remember if coffee is a thing in acotar but it is now

warnings: uhh poor sleeping habits, tiny touch of angst, reader is Made fae/archeron sibling, fluff

You haven't been sleeping well.

Correction ㅡ you're not sure if you've ever slept well in your life, but you've been sleeping worse as of late.

As in not at all.

Not for lack of trying, quiet plea to Madja for a tonic or tips to help you sleep ㅡ all to no avail. And so you spend most nights wide awake, listening to the soft creak of the other inhabitants and staring up at the ceiling.

It isn't your favorite way to spend so much time given that there's only so much you can think of before you're sinking back into thoughts you've tried so hard to let go of. They cling to you like a second skin, seep and chill your bones like black, brackish water, like ㅡ

You quickly find other ways to occupy your time. Velaris' night sky is beautiful, patchwork blanket of deep blue with silver pinprick stars that you count, try to match constellations with ones you know, catalogued in worn paper from another lifetime. (That often spirals too.)

Perhaps the Cauldron feels bad for what has been done to you, or perhaps it's simply the house taking pity on you ㅡ but as of late when you drag yourself from your room and downstairs, there is a mug of warmth waiting for you.

Steam always curls from the top of it, dark liquid that eddies with just enough cream and sugar to make it pleasant. It chases away the sticky darkness of your thoughts, replaces it with a warmth that spirals from the inside out ㅡ a comfort, when so many things as of late have not been.

With that unspoken charm of warm ceramic at your fingers, you're more content to whittle the hours away in silence. You pretend that you've just woken up when someone else stirs ㅡ often times it's Nesta, who watches you for so long that you wonder if she knows. (She doesn't ask, and you don't tell. Maybe she doesn't have to, the other side of your coin.)

Tonight, however, is different.

Tonight you find yourself with an entirely different sort of company ㅡ in the form of sleek, wisps of shadow ㅡ alive, whirling gently against your cheek, your hair, your hands. And then they're gone, back to their master ㅡ who appears shortly after.

Azriel doesn't announce his presence, but he doesn't have to. You've gotten used to the fact that you can hear him now, can hear most everything ㅡ aware of more than you ever used to be.

All you do is allow the slide of your eyes over his face, his wings, his hands ㅡ and then away. "Good morning."

A flicker of amusement in the gleam of his eyes, the soft huff of air. "It's two in the morning."

You remain steadfast. "Still morning."

He doesn't push further as he approaches, and you can feel his eyes on you ㅡ the clothing you're still getting used to, a subtle opulence that still makes you feel untethered at times ㅡ and the mug nestled between your hands.

"Can't sleep?"

It's an innocent question, a gentle probe at where you are in terms of emotion ㅡ eggshell floor that tends to be how everyone walks around you, Nesta, and Elain as of late.

You shrug. "Something like that." You lapse into silence, and it's Azriel is turning to leave (presumably) that you speak. "I have...strange dreams. And if it isn't that, it's nightmares. So I figure thisㅡ" You gesture, "is better than either of those."

Azriel is silent long enough that you're beginning to feel stupid for saying anything ㅡ and then he says quietly, "May I show you something?"

The something ends up being the offer of taking you for a flight ㅡ only after Azriel has made sure that you're appropriately bundled before he lifts you into his arms. His scent that makes you think of pine and hoarfrost is almost overwhelming ㅡ but his wings are snapping out before you can change your mind, and then you're airborne.

This is so much different than what Feyre had called winnowing ㅡ wind whips at your face and hair, tangling it as you tuck yourself tighter against Azriel's chest. His grip is firm on you, not so much as to hurt or be inappropriate, but enough that you don't feel as though he's going to drop you.

The stars gleam above you, enticing you to look up at them ㅡ and with your face tucked so close to his neck, Azriel doesn't struggle to hear you when you speak.

"I managed to save some of the star charts in my father's office when we..." You trail off for a moment, uncertain of what all he knows from Feyre ㅡ and you point at the glittering cosmos above. "It looks the same."

"Is that a bad thing?"

You press your face against his shoulder, inhaling his pine scent. "No."

Azriel is quiet as he spares a glance at you. You're so very different than your sisters ㅡ not quite as wild as Feyre, nor as angry as Nesta, nor as quiet as Elain. He wishes he could say he doesn't remember much of watching each of you be tossed into the Cauldron ㅡ but he does, everything whispered to him by his shadows.

That you'd come out of it glowing ㅡ briefly, just enough to give the impression of a star, just like the ones above.

"Azriel?" Your call makes him look down, the flick of his eyes over the delicate arch of your ears, the reflection of starlight in your eyes that makes the beat of his wings falter for a brief second. "Will this get easier?"

He doesn't have to ask you what you mean. He could lie to you, placate you with empty words ㅡ but he can't bring himself to do that. So he tightens his grip just a little, tucks you a little firmer to him. "I hope so."

[latenightdaydreams]

i love your content so much omg thank you so much for writing these so frequently and welll!!!!! How about a pt 3 to mafia konig x CEO reader where reader finds out that she’s preggy without konig knowing and is scared he’s going to throw her away bc of her pregnancy. She acts like a sad kicked dog, being on her pink comfy bed curled up and whenever he fucks her she looks like she’s going to cry. When he finally finds out she sobs her eyes out and tries to escape again.

💗💗Thank you!

Mafia!König x CEO Part 3 (fem)

Part 1, Part 2

MDNI🔞

Master List✍🏽

>cw: fem/afab, non-con, p in v, pregnancy, choking

1.7k word count

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It’s been four months since you’ve become König’s ‘pet’; three months since your last period. König hasn’t noticed, when he’s with you he doesn’t think about your cycle. He only cares if you’ve eaten and if he can fuck you.

You sit on your little pink dog bed in his office with your collar attached by a chain to the wall behind you. König had to leave for a meeting, leaving you alone in his office. The chain is so short that you can’t move around if you wanted to. Even your hands are bound behind your back, leaving you to simply sit on your pink dog bed and wait.

While you wait for him to return, you think about different ways you could possibly escape before he finds out. The fear of him knowing and getting rid of you like trash is forefront in your mind. You don’t only have to worry about your own life, but now the life of this life is developing inside of you. While you doubt you can be a mother to it, you still find yourself oddly attached. In this trauma, it’s as if you have something to hold on to.

The office door swings open and König stomps angrily. His eyes land on you and he smiles softly under his sniper hood. Seeing you waiting there for him like a good little pet always brightens his mood. He closes and locks the door behind him, walking over to you.

König kneels in front of you, petting your head gently with his gloved hand as he tilts his head. “I’ve missed you, Maus.” His hand drifts down to your jaw, grabbing it and forcing you to look into his eyes. “Have you missed me?”

“Yes.” You say but it just comes out as more of a muffle with the gag.

“Good girl.”

König stands again and unlocks the chain that kept you to the wall, using it as a leash to walk you to his desk. He sits down on the strong wooden desk and looks down at you as you remain on all fours before him. His eyes travel up and down your naked body before tugging on your leash.

“Stand up.” He holds one hand out to assist you.

You look at his hand before accepting the help and standing you. König looks at your body, taking his time to linger on your breasts and abdomen. A small panic sets in as you wonder if he’s noticed any change in your body. Looking down at yourself, it doesn’t seem like there are any obvious signs of pregnancy just yet.

“Schön.” He speaks under his breath as he pulls his gloves off followed by his mask. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you all day today. I hate being busy.”

Your mouth relaxes as he takes the gag off of you, allowing you to feel slightly more comfortable. His pale blue eyes linger on your face for a while before leaning in to kiss you; his lips clashing against yours with an undeniable hunger for you. He allows his hands to travel over your body, cupping your breasts and twirling your sensitive nipples between his fingers as his tongue swirls around yours.

König gentle turns, switching spots with you so that you’re leaned up against the desk. Mentally, you’re trying your best to stay in the moment but you can’t stop thinking about the fact that you’re pregnant and stuck here with a dog collar on. Stuck here with a man that just might kill the both of you. While König has shown a soft side, he has also shown how incredibly heartless he can be.

He lets his hands drift down your body to your thighs and lifts you on to the desk. When he pulls back from the kiss, he begins to undress himself. You look down at his erection as his pants fall to the floor making König’s lips pull into a cocky grin. He knows that no matter how much you try to deny it, you find him attractive- even if only deep down inside.

“Spread your legs open for me. Be a good pet.”

You lean back and grab behind your knees, parting your legs wide for him. His eyes lock on to your pussy, reaching out to slip one finger between your folds and circling your clit. He steps closer, pulling that hand away and spitting in his palm to lubricate his dick.

“What do you say?” His blue eyes lock on yours as you feel his thick cock rub your slit.

“Please fuck me, Master.”

“Good girl.”

König thrusts forward into you. The same little breathless moan he makes leaves him as his eyes close for a moment to fully enjoy the sensation of your gummy walls around him. His hips rock back and forth slowly until his eyes open again. He grabs your waist, making you flinch, but he ignores it. His mind is too clouded with the sensation of pleasure to notice your small hints of discomfort.

The rhythmic sound of his hips bucking against your supple jiggling ass echoes in the room. Your walls clench around his girth as you squirm on the desk beneath him, your eyebrows pinched together with a small frown. His eyes watch as his cock pumps in and out of you, your wet cunt leaving behind a thick ring of creamy white arousal on the base of his cock. One of his hands slips up your body, slapping your breasts before wrapping around your neck.

Lost in the waves of ecstasy, his grip slowly gets tighter and tighter. You take deep breaths trying to not make him angry but asking him to stop. The thought of what if he kills you runs through your mind as his grip gets more intense. Underneath his breath he praises your body in German, not paying attention to how oxygen deprived you are. Finally, you grab his arms and squeeze it, begging for relief.

König doesn’t argue, lessening his grip on you and leaning down to kiss your neck. Your head turns to the side as your mind falls away to the gravity of the situation that you find yourself in. Unable to control yourself a silent tear rolls down your face. Still, you try your hardest to hold back your emotions; taking a deep shaky breath to try and calm down.

“Fuck, Maus. Your pussy is so good.” His thrust loses their rhythm, high pitched moans accompanying his words. “Beg for my cum.”

When he looks at your face, he notices the shiny tear streak and the look of emotional torment in his eyes. Just wanting to cum he looks down again and listens to your voice fake arousal and beg for him to cum inside of you. His balls tighten as he holds your shoulders to shove himself fully inside of you. As his cock throbs, coating your walls in his thick sticky cum.

After lingering for a moment, he pulls out and just looks at you. Wiping sweat from his forehead, he shifts his weight and lets out a huff. “What’s wrong with you?” He asks in a no bullshit tone.

“Nothing.” You say unconvincingly.

“Don’t lie to me.” His arms cross over his board chest.

“I’m not.”

“Down.” He snaps his fingers for you like you would a dog for you to kneel.

You sit up and hop off his desk, getting on the floor and kneeling before him. He walks closer to you and looks down at your disappointment that you think you can lie to him. A thick silence lingers in the air between you both before he speaks up again.

“Every time I touch you lately it’s like you’re about to cry. I know I’m not your favorite person, Maus, but I know you love my cock. Why are you crying now?”

You look up at him, not saying a word still as you mentally jump through hoops.

“Tell me what is wrong or else you’re sleeping with that muzzle on.”

Tears burn your eyes as he knows how much the gag hurts your jaw when he has you wear it all day, the thought of sleeping with it on causes an instant reaction from you. Still, you remain silent. Your heart sinks as you watch him walk over to your muzzle and strap it back on you.

Two weeks have passed since the situation and he’s dropped it. So, you thought. When you wake up this morning you see König standing by the bed looking down at you with a small box in his hand. You rub your eyes and sit up, focusing on what he’s holding.

“You’re taking one.” König says, in his hand a box of pregnancy tests.

As you sit on the toilet and pee on the stick, König stands there watching to make sure you don’t try to hide anything. Your hand shakes as you hold the test. His mask is on so you can’t see the expression he has underneath. Once done, he snatches the test from you and steps back to let you clean yourself up.

Pregnant. Just as he suspected. Underneath his mask he smiles. He’s always wanted a family, but has never been able to keep a woman. Yet here you are, already giving him a family. Before he can react, you begin to sob.

You collapse onto the tile of the bathroom floor as a waterfall pours from your eyes. König looks bewildered, not expecting such a strong emotional response from a usually strong woman. He steps forward cautiously as if he isn’t trying to scare you. He kneels down next to you and reaches out to caress your back.

“Don’t cry.” He says awkwardly, not knowing how to comfort you. “I can get you food. Would you like that? Maybe you can stay in the big bed?”

You gaze up at him and nod. König stands and looks at how small and helpless you seem on the floor. It hurts his heart, but he also loves knowing that you’re really trapped now.

“I’ll be back.” He stands and leaves the room, locking the door from the outside.

You continue to sob until you realize that he’s just left you alone in the room without being chained to the wall. In a hurry, you jump up and begin looking through every and any drawer you can open. Inside of the desk you find files held together with paper clips. Quickly, you grab two and hide them under the bed. Your heart thumps in your chest as a light of hope comes to you again.

[xhoess]

Sfw and nsfw alphabet headcanons for Logan PLEASEEEE!!! 🙌🙌🙌

YES YES YES YES YES... that's such a good idea I love you🙏🥰

Logan Howlett headcanons From A to Z

Pairing: Logan howlet ×fem bod reader

Sooo I will be writing short stories from A to Z, there will be no storyline they are just one-shots!!

Story's under the Cut

Most of these will be NSFW, I'm not gonna say 18 plus bc like read what you enjoy I started reading smut when I was way younger than 18 and I get if you do that because you're curious about that and there is nothing wrong with that :)

everything that's marked green is written the rest is not!

A - Aftercare: Logan is surprisingly tender after sex. He may seem rough around the edges, but he’s incredibly attentive post-intimacy. He’ll make sure you’re comfortable, bringing you water or wrapping you in a warm blanket. He likes to hold you close afterward, murmuring in that deep, gravelly voice of his.

B - Body Part: Logan is particularly proud of his hands. They’re strong, capable, and he knows exactly how to use them to drive you wild. He also has a thing for your neck and shoulders, often kissing, biting, and nuzzling there during foreplay.

C - Cum: Logan is intense when he finishes, often with a deep, guttural groan. He prefers to finish inside you, relishing the connection and intimacy it brings. If he finishes elsewhere, it’s usually on your stomach or chest, where he can admire the sight.

D - Dirty Secret: Logan has a voyeuristic streak. He loves watching you pleasure yourself, finding it incredibly arousing. He’s also into you wearing his clothes—nothing gets him going like seeing you in one of his old, oversized shirts.

E - Experience: Logan is very experienced, thanks to his long life. He knows exactly what he’s doing and takes pride in being able to bring you to the edge and back. He’s been with a variety of partners over the years, but with you, it’s always different—more intense, more meaningful.

F - Favorite Position: Logan loves positions where he can be close to you, like missionary or spooning. He enjoys feeling your body pressed against his and being able to kiss you deeply during the act. He also has a soft spot for doggy style, loving the way he can control the pace and depth.

G - Gentle: Logan has a gentle side layered under all that toughness. He's gentle with the people he loves, especially when they are hurt or vulnerable. His touch can be surprisingly soft and carefull.

H - Hair: Logan is rugged and naturally hairy, and he’s comfortable with that. He’s not one for meticulous grooming beyond the basics. He doesn’t mind if you’re natural too—in fact, he finds it sexy. He loves running his hands through your hair, or feeling your nails in his.

I - Intimacy: Logan craves intimacy and connection, even if he doesn’t always realize it. Sex with him is intense and passionate, but it’s also deeply emotional. He’s fully present, focusing on your pleasure and the bond between you.

J - Jack Off: Logan doesn’t masturbate often, preferring to save his energy for when he’s with you. When he does, it’s usually when he’s alone and thinking about you, imagining your touch and scent. He’s more than capable of taking care of himself but much prefers having you there.

K - Kinks: Logan has a bit of a primal side. He enjoys rough, passionate sex and isn’t opposed to a bit of light bondage or spanking if you’re into it. He likes being in control but also gets a thrill out of you taking the lead sometimes, especially if you surprise him.

L - Location: Logan is down for sex pretty much anywhere. The thrill of doing it in risky or unexpected places excites him—whether it’s in the woods, a hidden corner of the mansion, or even a quiet bar’s backroom. He’s adaptable and ready whenever you are.

M - Motivation: Logan doesn’t need much to get turned on. Just the sight of you, the sound of your voice, or a simple touch is enough. He’s especially turned on when you take charge, showing him just how much you want him. He finds confidence in a partner incredibly sexy.

N - No: Logan is very clear about boundaries. He respects your limits and expects the same in return. If something makes either of you uncomfortable, he’ll stop immediately and shift to something else. Trust and respect are paramount to him.

O - Oral: Logan is a master at giving oral. He loves taking his time, exploring every inch of you with his mouth, and making you squirm with pleasure. He’s also very vocal about how much he enjoys it. When it comes to receiving, he’s just as enthusiastic and loves watching you enjoy yourself.

P - Pace: Logan’s pace depends on the mood. He can be slow and sensual, drawing out every moment to savor the connection between you, or fast and rough when things get heated. He loves varying the pace, sometimes starting slow before gradually increasing the intensity until neither of you can hold back.

Q - Quickie: Logan is no stranger to quickies, especially with his lifestyle. He finds them thrilling, perfect for when the two of you just can’t wait. Whether it’s a stolen moment in a hidden spot or a quick session before heading out on a mission, he’s always down for it.

R - Risk: Logan enjoys the thrill of risky sex, particularly the idea of getting caught in the act. He loves the adrenaline rush it brings and how it intensifies the experience, though he’s always careful to ensure you’re both safe.

S - Stamina: Logan’s stamina is legendary, thanks to his healing factor. He can go for hours without tiring, and he’s more than capable of multiple rounds. He loves taking his time to completely wear you out, only stopping when you’re both thoroughly satisfied.

T - Toys: Logan isn’t opposed to using toys, but he prefers the hands-on approach. If you’re into it, he’ll indulge you, especially if it adds to your pleasure. He enjoys being the one to control them, loving how they can heighten your experience.

U - Unfair: Logan can be a bit of a tease. He’ll push you right to the edge, only to pull back and make you beg for more. He enjoys the control it gives him and loves driving you wild with need before finally giving you what you want.

V - Volume: Logan is vocal in bed, but it’s more about growls, grunts, and low, husky whispers. He’s not afraid to let you know how much he’s enjoying himself, and he loves hearing you moan his name in return. The more noise you make, the more it drives him on.

W - Wild: Logan can get downright wild in bed when the mood strikes. His primal instincts take over, leading to rough, passionate sessions that leave you both breathless and thoroughly satisfied. He loves the raw, unrestrained connection that comes with it.

X - NONE my apologies

Y - Yearning: Logan’s desire for you is constant and intense. Even when you’re apart, he’s often thinking about you, fantasizing about the next time he’ll have you. When you’re together, he’s completely focused on you, driven by a deep, almost overwhelming need to feel connected to you.

Z - ZZZ: After an intense session, Logan likes to hold you close as you both drift off to sleep. He doesn’t need much sleep, so he’ll often stay awake for a while, watching over you and enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. He finds peace in these moments, content to simply be with you.

[chvoswxtch]

oi, matt! can i get a macchiato? mayhaps over ice if that’s what the barista has to offer today….

matt x assistant!reader at nelson and murdock is one of my favourite flavours ever. i just neeeeed your take on it.

you know I had to kick off the celebration with this slut (works for you or matty) <3 also just so you know I could've kept going with this forever but tumblr told me to shut up bc apparently there's a word limit on answering asks but you get the picture ;)

as a reminder, over ice means it's spicy ! (minors dni)

headcannon below the cut

matt murdock is an hr nightmare

when foggy mentions that nelson & murdock could desperately use an assistant since karen is now at the bulletin, before matt even has a chance to speak, foggy is warning him to keep his dick in his pants

and when matt pulls that face (you know the one, the "she wanted to teach me" look of faux innocence) foggy reminds matt that not only is he a whore but he also has a history of being tempted by forbidden fruit (he probably fucked all the female interns at landman and zack, and then there's karen who he would've slept with if frank & elektra hadn't shown up but that's a different story for a different day)

matt does the lil "i cross my heart" thing and swears to foggy that he won't get involved with the new assistant

he also makes this promise to himself bc let's face it he's a human disaster who's life is constantly falling apart and the last thing he needs is drama that could've been avoided if he thought with the right head

but then the day of the interviews arrive and you walk in the room, and matt knows at that moment that he is completely fucked

your scent hits him first, something soft and subtle, a breath of fresh air from the stuffy office smell and the lingering assault of pungent perfume left behind by other candidates that had given him a dull headache

then it's your voice, god your voice, it's the most melodious sound he's ever heard. it's gentle but crisp, and your alluring intonation has him hanging onto your every word, especially his name that fell from your lips in greeting

touching your hand nearly does him in, bc getting to feel your smooth skin caress his rough palm makes it even worse. there's a an electric spark that tingles in his fingertips and shoots throughout the rest of his body, and he finds himself wondering if you feel it too, but then catches himself and quickly plasters on a professional appearance

it was one thing that every single thing about your existence drew him in, but the fact that you were also intelligent and well-spoken, deeply passionate and genuinely empathetic, while also quick to craft clever responses without your sharp wit coming off as ostentatious just made matt want you more

matt was uncharacteristically quiet while foggy asked most of the questions, to which you gave perfect answers, and occasionally chimed in with a few of his own just to redirect your attention where he wanted it: on him

by the end of the interview, foggy was sold on you, and so was matt, but for duplicitious reasons

matt tries so hard to keep his promise, but fuck do you make it (and him) hard. he makes a point to never be alone with you in the office. if a round at josie's is suggested, he makes sure foggy or karen will also be there. he tries to balance between being friendly while also being professional, trying to find the invisible line that crosses from innocent inquisitions to dangerous territory

he does his best not to initiate physical contact, which proves to be difficult, bc you're a hugger and always politely offering matt your arm to guide him whenever you go anywhere

you're so kind and thoughtful and treat him the exact way you treat everyone else and it makes him want to put his head through a wall bc every day that he spends with you makes this attraction worse and worse and he can't tell if it's purely physical or if it goes deeper than that

and then one day he just fucking snaps

matt has a really bad day. a lead he'd been working on for weeks ended up being a dead end, and matt had taken his frustration out on some petty thug in an alley, but it wasn't enough. he'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed, late at that, to a handful of voicemails from a pissed off foggy. it had been a grueling day in court, all of his senses were overwhelmed, and he had so much pent up tension in his body that he felt stiff

he was so wrapped up in himself that when he walked through the door of the office, he didn't realize he'd broken his own rule: never be alone with you

as soon as he realizes his mistake, he heads towards his office, returning your polite greeting with a grunt of acknowledgement. he hoped that you'd leave it alone, that you'd say something like you were just about to leave, and he'd be spared from you coming closer. but you being you, noticing every little detail and having learned to read matt, could tell something was off

you just wanted to help. you always just wanted to help, and matt loved that about you, but right now, it was only making this more difficult for him bc his self restraint was deteriorating

and then you gently touched his shoulder and matt let out a groan bc he could smell what you'd done the night previously. the scent of your arousal was still embedded in your skin even though you'd washed your hands several times, and the scent of soap was almost nonexistent as matt's nose focused solely on the delectable scent of your pussy on your own fingers

he'd made himself come many times to the thought of you over the last few months, but knowing that you'd fingered yourself last night possibly to the thought of him is what broke his resolve

matt didn't need his heightened senses to know you were attracted to him, that you felt something for him too. he knew it because he knew you, and sometimes you were obvious even when you thought you were being subtle for the sake of both your friendship and your professional reputation

before either of you could process what was happening, matt was devouring your mouth in a heated kiss, your blouse was halfway unbuttoned, just enough for him to pull down the cups of your bra to leave your tits spilling into his welcoming hands. your soft whimpers echoed around the empty office as he toyed with your nipples while assaulting your neck with his teeth and tongue

in record time you were bent over his desk, skirt bunched up around your hips, panties caught around your calves, and matt was pulling down his zipper to free his fully hard cock

the immense relief he felt as he sank into you fully from behind nearly brought him to his knees. he didn't know if it was the heightened allure of having something he wasn't supposed to, or how perfectly your tight cunt enveloped his thick cock, but he quickly got lost in your warm walls like a dazzling labyrinth he never wanted to escape

you were so fucking wet that it was obscene the noises your pussy made welcoming his cock as he pounded into you over and over and over again. but his favorite sound was you chanting his name, desperately pleading for more, which he was all too happy to oblige

you took him so well, your pussy enveloping his cock in a greedy manner, not allowing him the chance to slip out despite how soaked you were. he reached as deep as your body would allow and fucked you relentlessly like a madman on a mission

his rough hands gripped your hips in a bruising manner, and he was completely lost in a fog of lust. it didn't take long for either of you to come undone and it finally clicked for matt that he wasn't the only one that had been depriving himself for the sake of not crossing a boundary when your cunt tightened around his cock before flooding him with your release

matt waited until the absolute last possible second, swiftly pulling out with a hiss as he replaced your pussy with his right hand, stroking his cock at an inhuman speed just a few times before coating your ass in ropes of his come

he collapsed in his chair, but not without wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you down with him. the sound of heavy panting filled his office, and the air was humid and drenched in the scent of sex. matt nuzzled his face into your neck, hugging your back to his chest while the two of you attempted to catch your breath

he's able to pick up on the fact that your heart is still racing not bc of the incredible spontaneous sex, but also out of anxiety about what happens next, so matt decides to break the silence first

"I uh...know this is kinda backwards but, I was wondering if I could take you to dinner?"

in conclusion, he's a fucking menace

[shuaboo]

comfort sex with ricky bc i think he’s more on the gentle side and would love to LOVEE on his partner so how can he not treat u good in bed when you tell him you’re feeling down and u need him 😖

rickys presence is the epitome of comfort so honestly i don’t see any reason why he wouldn’t be into soft, gentle, comfort sex:( i hope this is okay, i’ve been missing ricky a little bit extra lately. i fucking hate wk1.

after a particularly long day, you wish for nothing more than to be in rickys arms. let him hug you to comfort, kiss away your problems, and fuck you to sleep.

as soon as you get home, ricky can sense the difference in the air. the door shuts quieter, your heels get thrown instead of being neatly placed, you’re slouching, everything. immediately he can tell that you had a tough day, and ricky being the good boyfriend he is— he’s going to help comfort you. he will tend to your needs, all you really have to do is ask.

“long day?” ricky asks, opening his arms, ready to welcome you. you just nod and let yourself be enveloped in his arms, not wanting to say much. he kisses your forehead, and hums. he wants to help you, so he will always ask you if you need anything from him. “do you need anything? food? a massage? talk to me baby.” all you need to do is look up at him with needy eyes, and he will get what you mean.

“ah… my poor angel, so needy and tired. want me to take care of you, love?” you nod and let him lead you to the bedroom. he helps you get out of your work clothes and gently puts you on the bed. ricky stares at you, looking at your body as if you were a perfect doll. and quite frankly, to him at least— you are a perfect doll. “my love, your body never fails to mesmerize me.” he softly says before going down to kiss every single part of your body. your cheeks, lips, neck, collarbone, shoulders, hands, chest, thighs, everywhere. his kisses are like your remedy. as he finishes kissing every part of you, he goes back to your lips. a soft gentle make-out session occurs, with his hands roaming around your body. he’s squeezing your hips and your waist, all while your tongues are tied in a knot.

he pulls away from the kiss first, and lets himself admire you. he looks at you like you’re the most beautiful painting in a museum. he looks at you as if you are the most gorgeous piece of art to ever exist. and in his book, you are. he takes his time taking care of you. first, he gives your chest attention. he has one nipple in his mouth, and his hands pinching and playing with the other. after, he leaves a trail of kisses moving down your stomach. he goes slower as he reaches your pussy, and stops. “are you sure you want this, my love?” he looks at you with love and lust in his eyes, wanting to make sure that you’re okay. once you give him the okay, he dives in. he licks and sucks at your clit, paying extra attention to the sensitive bud. then he licks a stripe up your pussy. he practically makes out with it, before he starts eating you out. letting his tongue go in and out of your hole, eliciting the prettiest moans from you. hee smiles against your heat when he hears the sounds coming out of your mouth, because this is how he knows he’s doing well. he continues to lunge his tongue in your heat, and uses his fingers to stimulate your clit. after a bit, you have one of the most pleasurable orgasms you’ve ever had on his tongue.

he pulls away from your center, face wet and messy from your release. he licks his lips before winking at you, making you blush. “you taste so good baby, i could stay there all day.. do you want my fingers as well~? or do you want me to fuck you?” you shake your head, and you speak up. “i wanna ride you, rik. please.” he smiles at your request. of course he’s going to accept. there’s nothing better than having his beautiful girlfriend on top of him, riding him and using him for her own pleasure.

he lies down on the bed and signals for you to follow. he helps you to get on his lap, and guides his length in your hole. he waits for you to fully adjust to his size, and lets you do whatever you want. he lets out soft groans when you start moving, feeling immense pleasure from the feeling of your tight heat around his cock. “fuck.. keep going angel, you’re doing so good.” he praises you, and tucks your hair behind your ear to get a good view of your face. “so pretty… my pretty baby… fuuuck.” as your pace quickens, his sounds get louder. he holds onto your waist for support, and sometimes thrusts up to help you. eventually, your bounces get sloppy— a sign that says you’re tired. ricky takes the sign and allows you to rest on his chest, while he starts thrusting into you. “you did good my love, let me take control now.” he lets you pull him into a kiss, both of you moaning into each other’s mouths as he fucks you. your hands are tangled in his hair, your lips are tied in a passionate kiss, and his thrusts get faster. he feels you clench around him. “are you close, angel? i can feel you clench around me. cum whenever you want.” he pants out, and with that you cum around his cock. with a few more sloppy thrusts, he feels himself get close. “i- i’m gonna cum. where do you want it, angel? c’mon, tell me.” his sloppy yet hard thrusts makes you moan out in deep pleasure, making it hard to answer. “i-inside! please, need it inside..” he nods and tightens his grip on your hips, quickening his pace again until he cums.

once he cums, you feel your body get limp against his chest. he holds you tight in his arms, his cock softening inside you. you mumbles into his skin, “thank you for this ricky, i really needed it. i love you. let’s stay like this for awhile..” and he can’t help but smile. why would he deny you of what you need? “i love you more. and okay, let’s stay like this.” he says, before moving one of his arms to go up your head, scratching your hair.

he kisses your forehead, and murmurs comforting words into your ears.

“my lovely baby. i hope i helped your day get better. i hope the world is kinder to you tomorrow and forevermore.”

[just-jordie-things]

MOREE headcannons for choso i really do love your other headcannons! heh

hell yes i love how open this is i'm gonna give ya such a random smattering of choso headcanons <3 tagging @delzinrowe bc it's choso and we talk abt him a lot so some of the credit for this has to go to her <3 ___

choso is a bit of a menace at the grocery store, but he doesn't mean to be. he's intrigued by all the packaging of different snacks and drinks- sometimes just regular products too like tissue boxes or toilet paper rolls. it often takes a couple hours to get the shopping done with him in tow. he's drawn in like a child to a candy bar!! if something is packaged in bright colors, expect to have to tell him what the product is, because he's gonna be interested in it.

i think he'd hate carbonated drinks. i think the bubbles would be a shock to his system ((did he even drink water before he met you??)) but i think he'd LOVE flavored milk. chocolate and strawberry. picturing choso casually having a lil carton of milk in his hand makes me soft. he'd go to yuji as soon as you introduce him to the wonderful beverage to see if his brother had ever tried such a delicious treat.

choso's always touching you. he doesn't know what pda is, but he's very into it... in an oblivious way. if he's not holding your hand, then his arm is around you. if you're sitting together he prefers to have you on his lap, but tucked into his side and under his arm is the next best thing. and he'll kiss you, anywhere, anytime. standing in line at the bank? the sunlight caught your eyes just right and he was just overwhelmed with the urge to cup your face and kiss you so longingly one could assume you were lovers reunited after years apart... but no, you've just been in this line together for fifteen minutes. you could tell him there's a time and place for such acts of passion but... whew you gotta catch your breath first, don't you??

he's always catching lil critters to show you. he noticed you liked to point out when there's a squirrel crossing the street, or a lady bug on the windowsill, so he notes that little creatures are some of your favorites. now on walks he keeps an eye out for any critter to present you with. he's caught all sorts of things with ease and surprising gentleness- despite being a massive hunk of muscle. he's managed to catch (and later release, of course) rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, toads, a couple of turtles, possums, even street rats. as well as bugs- just about any bug he sees. some are more exciting than others, the dragonflies, the ladybugs, rollie pollies, caterpillars, snails.... you could probably do without the roaches and big spiders, but you try not to show your squeamish side as you thank him for showing you and politely ask him to put it back on the ground <3

choso pouts if you don't shower with him. bc why wouldn't you? he got the water to the temperature you like... what, is he supposed to shampoo his own hair?? are you mad at him??

choso is quickly becoming a favorite of mine i'm sorry gojo but i have to cope somehow