#and then going to him for help and being unable to tell him until he has to

[okwonyo]

BEAUTIFUL SCENE 𓈒𓈒 ❪ 日语 ❫

TESTI ────── 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗆𝗒 𝗍𝗒𝗉𝖾, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍 𝗅𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍.

enhypen who has a crush on fem!rea 12OO fluff non-idol au 但 skinship kissing ❛ REBLOGS&CLICK ❜

지아 ⠀⦂⠀ sruchocopop helped me for this 🍀 it was supposed to be short but oh well ..

HEESEUNG

his body yearns to be close to you— to touch, to feel you. he wants to know how the feeling on his fingers brushing your soft skin feels. therefore, he finds any excuse to do so.

“you have food all over your face,” he chuckles. he noticed it a few minutes ago, as soon as the tiniest crumbs of your bread fell next to your mouth. of course, he stopped eating a while ago, too busy admiring your every move.

“wha’ d’ya say?” you mutter, cheeks round and full of the big bite you took a seconds before. your eyes are glistening with wonder, pure curiosity and wonder— clueless of how cute you are looking at the moment.

his heart beats faster as he reaches for the side of your mouth with his thumb, his body moves completely on his own. he tries to not melt under your gaze, wiping the cream off the corner of your lips, caressing your lips, “here you go.”

⠀ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ﹙ᵕ ᵕ⠀look under the cut ! ♡

JAY

always so gentle with you. his tone is always soft. he smiles gentle, pearly whites showing perfectly as he talks to you. his inner nature always shows off whenever you are with him. his body warms up with chivalry.

your way often crosses the college’s hallways. he is quick to greet you with this lovely smile of his. beyond charming and beautiful.

today, he meets you again. his attention is first one your face, as always, then he peeks at the huge cardboard box in your hands. he doesn’t think before speaking, before moving towards you and telling you, “let me take this for you.”

he knows it already, what are your next words. he starts walking before you can even say, “you don’t have—”

“please, let me do this for you,” he immediately cuts you. the world stops, for you especially, well to hang on lips to say anything.

JAKE

he doesn’t realize it. it is as natural as breathing to him, as if being there—so close to you— is his birth right. you are his only compass, the star that guides him up in the sky.

his breath catches when you respond to him calling your name by turning around. the smile that grows on your face is immediately mirrored by him, “are you following me around?”

he jogs towards you, unable to keep his giggles for himself. “huh?” is the first thing he tells you, registering your question after a minute of staring at your smiley face.

“you are always somewhere close to me,” you chuckle— you don’t seem bothered by that fact. you look more pleased than not and that makes him pleased as well.

he shrugs, immediately following you like a puppy when you start walking to your class. he bumps his shoulder into yours gently, “maybe it’s destiny.”

SUNGHOON

he isn’t really the type to do much just yet. although, he had a crush on you since the day his gaze rested on you, since the first time he heard your laugh. he can’t keep you out of his mind nor his eyes away from you.

he knows it. that as soon as he catches a glimpse of you, it would be impossible for him to look away so soon. not until someone tells him that he looks like a creep— and even then, he wouldn’t be so sure.

he bites his lower lip as he observes you from afar. you look beyond mesmerizing, like everything you do, the simple way in which you sit is attractive. he feels his body being pulled closer by a force he can’t name.

he doesn’t move however. he only tries to not get into a spiral when you bite your pen. he has never seen someone so effortlessly pretty. you seem to think hard, harder than a pretty girl like you should and he wants remedy to that.

his heart skips a beat when your eyes shoot up— immediately looking deep into his. his chest heaves while you hold eye contact. your smirk before looking down on your notes makes him groan. you are teasing him too much.

SUNOO

in his friendly nature, he befriends the girl he finds so gorgeous. he becomes so close to you that he spends his days with you by his side.

he doesn’t think he has hidden his crush on you ever. internally, he hopes that it becomes something more and he never fails to show it. it is you who is oblivious.

he tries, he really does, to make you understand that he wants more than just ‘silly friends’ date’— but it seems that your head is too thick to realize it. he decides to use words, loud and clear: “what do you think of us?”

you seem confused, “us?” if it wasn’t for how cute you look with the small blush coloring your cheeks, he would facepalm.

JUNGWON

he knows you like him too. he just doesn’t understand why you are so sure he doesn’t see you like that. he decides to emphasize, “you and me, us, love!”

this man is always so sweet to you. always showering you in nice words and teasing you a little bit to get a reaction out of you.

“did you try something new with your hair?” he questions you— he is always the first to notice when you try something remotely new. even as little as putting a ribbon in your hair.

a flush creeps across your cheeks, “uh, yeah,” you respond. your voice is tiny and cute— your shyness is seen all over the surface of your face.

“don’t get shy,” he chuckles. he finds it endearing, how easily it is to make you shy. you are not even aware of the effect it has on him, “i didn’t even tell you how beautiful you are yet, doll.”

he laughs when you playfully beat his chest with your fist.

RIKI

he has never been the type to be so happy about such simple things. but he admits that he has been on cloud nine since he successfully got your number.

“i’m doing good,” pops up, accompanied by the cutest emoji. “what about you?” he reads on his phone’s screen. your contact name above the text he just received makes his body vibrate with pure joy and enthusiasm.

he falls on his bed, thinking about an answer to something as simple as this. “i’m doing good,” he types out first. “because,” his fingers tap on the keyboard. “i’m talking to you.”

he immediately puts his phone away. he does everything in his power to think about anything else but your answer— and he fails. he reaches for his phone as soon as he hears a notification.

“haha, you are too cute,” your text says, a kissy face is added at the end. the boy smiles, giggles even. his cheeks hurt from smiling too much and he realizes that he looks stupid, but he doesn’t care. you really manage to make him giddy though the phone.

taglist open + net— @sgz-net

[thecoochiefairy]

soon az i get home. onyankopon.

𑄽𑄺 warnings 𑄽𑄺 6.8K word count. blackfem!reader, r&b artist coded! onyankopon, grumpy! onyankopon, sweet!onyankopon, dominant!onyankopon, size kink, black woman, vaginal penetration, lil bit of sweet talkin’, lil bit of aggressive talk, creaming, oral [f], choking, praising, LOTS of dirty talk, squirting, riding, condomless sex, kissing, spanking, minors aren’t welcome!

━━ 𝒄𝙤𝒐𝙘𝒉𝙞𝒆𝙛𝒂𝙞𝒓𝙮 𝙩𝒉𝙤𝒖𝙜𝒉𝙩𝒔 .ᐟ reference to the title, this song did inspire this fic. teehee.

𝓐ᥫ᭡ :: onyankopon pays you a visit when he touches down in the city.

visual. visual. visual.

SHINE N’ JAM LATHERED YOUR FINGERS AS YOU TOOK A FINAL SWIPE TO YOUR CLIENTS HAIR. Bohemian box braids had been the style of choice, 613 the full color from her permanently dyed scalp. It wasn’t a color you would’ve chosen for yourself, but it looked beautiful along her chocolate brown skin. She pulled it off flawlessly.

“Niggas wouldn’t know what to do with me if I could pull off being a blonde,” you sigh, giving a light smile as you’re on the final braid, your fingers moving effortlessly against the hair being pulled between your knuckles.

“They barely know what to do with me as it is,” she playfully rolled her eyes, “How much longer to go?” 

As she held her phone up, you took a peek in the mirror, able to tell she was on FaceTime. No doubt with her man again.

“I’m on my last braid, babe. Promise,” you reassure, knowing you’d said that before. You had a habit of creating more spaces along your clients scalp, unable to finish your work until you felt that the hair looked entirely full.

“You sure?” 

She smirked at you through the side view mirror, her brown eyes twinkling, “The last time you said that, I had to call off work.”

It had only been about six months since you began doing house calls, meaning you were more relaxed in the comfort of your condo—but that didn’t mean you had to drag with your appointments.

“I’m sorry, okay? I know I went over my time a bit. I just want you to feel…” you turn her chair towards the illuminating mirror, mahogany brown wood wrapped along the outside of the LED lights, “Pretty, hm? Tell me you like it since you wanna complain so much.”

“You want to hear that I love it so desperately,” she smiled, standing up from the chair to inspect herself. She didn’t bother with a cape anymore, her black tank showing off her collarbone and arms. The braids fell just behind her shoulders, “You know I love it. Always do.”

She glances back as you begin sweeping strands off the floor, raising an eyebrow, “You’ need help cleaning up for the night?”

“No, no—you’re fine,” you shake your head, “I got one more client coming. Asked me to squeeze him in,” you briefly explain. 

You can feel her gaze against you, raising your eyes to a smirk as you say, “What, girl?”

“One more client, huh?” she folded her arms over her chest, the smirk still there, “Girl, please. It’s after ten,” she lightly laughed, “Who is it?”

You roll your eyes with a sigh. She was one of your regular clients, and you talked like sisters. You couldn’t help but be honest. 

“Look, don’t go opening that big ass mouth. It’s Onyankopon, okay? He still comes back down to get his hair braided by me.”

Everyone in New Orleans knew him—he’d actually been successful in making it out of the city, becoming a world renowned R&B artist. You’d been braiding his hair up for years, keeping the relationship you had with him extremely private as he didn’t want anyone ruining your privacy.

“Onyankopon?—You lying right now,” she gawked, slapping a hand over her mouth, “Nah, I got to take a picture—I promise you I won’t tell nobody,” she bit her bottom lip, “I promise!”

You rolled your eyes, “Girl, no. He doesn’t want people to know his location in the city—he hates that,” you take some Lysol, spraying down the chair.

“Just one picture, beloved, please? I’ll give you—I’ll pay you,” she took her wallet out, shuffling through her cash, “I know the man is finer in person. You be trying to be so secretive with these Niggas—“

She pauses, “Hollon’—y’all got something going on? That’s why I can’t get no picture?”

“Girl, what? No,” you scrunch your nose, “I just do the man’s hair,” you began pulling out the products you needed for the upcoming appointment, now hiding your face from your client.

You wouldn’t say you had a thing with him. Your relationship started the moment he DM’d you. He said he remembered you from high school and asked you to be his braider—he also mentioned you were pretty—but that wasn’t relevant to the situation. With each appointment, you never treated him as if he was some celebrity. He was just…Onyankopon. He liked that about you.

“Aht, aht,” she shook her head, “If it isn’t nothing with that man, lemme’ get a peek then!”

You rolled your eyes, “Now you ain’t getting shit. I’ll see you in five weeks,” you shooed her behind with your hands, pressing the elevator within your condo.

“Whatever, hoe.” 

She stepped on the elevator, looking back at you with a smirk, “You can kiss that tip goodbye!” 

Then she was off, the doors closing behind her. You finally had a moment of peace. You allowed the instrumentals of Brent Faiyaz’ Wasteland to thrum along your living room as you cleaned, suddenly feeling a sense of anxiety. You don’t know why you feel yourself becoming so nervous due to the previous conversation you had—but you felt your stomach bubbling at the thought of the elevator doors opening with him on the other side. You’d never felt like this before.

Then, your phone rings. Your eyes glance down—ONY—it reads, and you have to swallow down the racehorse running within your mind as you mindlessly answer, “Hello?”

“You know I’m coming, right?”

 A deep, monotone voice that’s smooth like butter spoke through the phone.

You almost roll your eyes, “I’m aware, Onyankopon. C’mon, boy. I’m getting sleepy.”

A deep chuckle fills your ear from through the phone, “I bet yo’ ass gon’ stay up for me though.”

You hear the elevator ding and a slow creak as the two metal doors begin to open, the phone and your hand slightly falling as you glance over to the tall figure entering your condo. He’s dressed in a sable jersey with cargo pants, the oversized top still able to show the silhouette of his muscular frame. The tattoos that litter across his arms pop under the lights of your home, silver chains along his neck that match with the watch on his wrist. He smells like a mixture of musk and tonka bean—his fro is sprawled around his head, jaw locked as mint gum is trapped in between his full dark pink lips. 

You sigh in reply to his words as you hang up the phone, “Imma’ do what I need to do to make my money, you know that.”

He shut the elevator doors behind himself, “I know your ass finna’ charge me extra for me being late,” he chuckled, walking towards the chair. He paused in his steps for a moment, eyes raking over your body, “What’s up, baby?”

Baby. It was a simple term of endearment he used, an accent prolific with that specific word. Your eyes run over him—the ink on his face, the goatee and facial hair along his jaw and cheeks, even with his hair sprawled everywhere— he still looked good. 

“Hey,” you give him a faint smile, “Was getting here okay? No paparazzi?” You tease. 

“Nah, not tonight, at least. They been on my ass though,” he huffed, “A nigga can’t even go get a carton of milk without somebody following me.”

“They’re just excited, Ony,” you give a soft laugh, reaching into your drawer of supplies as you pull out a rat tail comb, “Did you wash your hair already?”

He nodded to show you he had, sitting down on the forest green chair. You never understood how someone like him could be so intimidating, his gaze being enough to make you crumble on the spot.

On the other hand, sometimes he wondered if you knew what you looked like. Strawberry red hair falling in layers down your back, no middle or side part within the style—it just flowed wherever you went. Your army green baby tee and matching drawstring yoga pants that clung to your body, and you always scented bergamot with a milky vanilla. The cute way your black square glasses always tipped at your golden nose ring, it made you so— pretty. 

“Why are you in town anyways? You got’ a show or something?” You ask him, going over to your kitchen island, washing your hands of the previous grease and hair products used on your last client.

“Doing a lil’ sum’ at the Smoothie King center, nothing too crazy. I’m surprised you ain’t hear about that,” he glanced towards where you’d been, only able to see the back of your head along the mirror, “But you stay under the rock. I ain’t even gon’ hold you.”

You come up behind him as you shake your head, “I’m sorry. I ain’t mean it like that— I just hadn’t checked your socials since you texted me asking for an appointment,” you apologize, not trying to seem indifferent to his status, even if you knew he didn’t care about that.

His head tilted, his eyes narrowing as he looked at you with a small smile, “You always apologizing,” he muttered, reaching his hand into his pocket, “You needa’ stop doin’ that. I know you got me when I come here. I ain’t tripping on that.”

Your dark lashes flutter, your reflexes pushing your glasses closer up against your face as you feel your cheeks becoming warm. You instinctively dig your fingers into his scalp, pulling at the soft coils to assess his hair, “You’ still tender headed?”

He smacked his teeth before giving a small wince at the sting, “You’ don’t see me about to cry?” He glared, “You a pain,” he huffed, tilting his head to look back up at you, “Why you always tryna hurt a nigga?”

You roll your eyes, “Ony, please. It’s only been two months since you last saw me,” you stare blankly through the mirror, mentally preparing for the fight he always gave before you actually started.

“I don’t like you no more. You hate me. You tryna test me,” he began, going down a small list of your wrongdoings, “I’mma’ find another braider. You want me to feel pain.” 

He saw the look in your eyes, his large hands already gripping the handles of his seat. Every appointment was like this, and you knew it. He got comfortable around you—more than he should’ve—maybe it was because you grew up around each other in high school. He knew you—and you knew how to be patient with his ass.

You flip the rat tail comb in your fingers, “You need the teddy bear I give my babies that can’t handle getting their hair braided?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ getting on my nerves already, boy.”

“I ain’t no damn boy,” He gave you a stern look—but it only got you to smirk. He grumbled under his breath, turning his head back towards the mirror, “Do yo’ thang.”

You begin parting his hair into six straight backs, PARTYNEXTDOOR 4 now playing each song throughout the album, humming quietly in the background. You were always efficient with your fingers, swapping product in between his scalp the millisecond after you parted. He was sensitive when it came to his head, but after about ten minutes, his jaw clenched as his eyes closed, relaxing under your touch. Sometimes he’d even fall asleep, and you’d just adjust to how he laid in that moment. 

You ask him, “You’ excited for the show?”

Though his eyes were closed, he nodded his answer, a low hum in his throat. You honestly loved when he got like this—his head would drop to the side, allowing you to braid easier. He trusted you. 

“They gon’ go crazy,” he mumbled, the corner of his lip lifting up in a smirk.

“I’m sure,” you muse, “The women love your big headed ass.”

“The niggas fuck with me too,” he smiled, opening an eye to look over at your reflection in the mirror, “You don’t like me?” 

You glance at his opened eyes through the mirror, still continuing to perfect the parting spaces in his head, envisioning the style as you softly reply, “I like you. You know that.”

He was always able to see the way you held back your smile, but his grin only widened as he looked at you. 

“I know yo’ ass love me,” he began, “All up in my hair, touchin’ me and shit.”

“Not too much,” you laugh, “I touch you cause you pay me to. Them’ girls outside would braid you’ up for free, I don’t play like that,” you smack your lips, “You’ seen your family since you been here?”

His grin faltered in the slightest, the question souring his mood. You’d grown to learn it was a sensitive subject—especially for a young man who wanted the world, but only had a couple people in his corner. You could see the way his facial features turned stern, Onyankopon chewing on the gum in his mouth before he opened his eyes, looking in the mirror to answer. 

“Yeah,” he muttered, “Spent some time with momma before she had to go to work. I got to visit my grandma for a little bit too. She always askin’ about you.”

“Bout’ me?” You raise an eyebrow, “I thought you ain’t tell nobody you came over here?” 

But that wasn’t what you really wanted to say. It made your face a bit warm to know he’d mentioned you to his family. So you clear your throat, knocking the warmth of your face away as you correct, “I ain’t know your mawmaw remembered me.”

“‘Course she remembered yo’ ass,” he grinned at the sight of you blushing—he always did manage to make you do that. 

“Always said you was built like a grown woman, pretty in the face. Real smart, she knew you’ was gon’ be somebody.”

“She’s sweet,” you giggle, “I’m sure she thought I was one of them’ fast tailed girls tryna get your attention.”

“She knew better than that. When did you ever try to get my attention?” He challenged, staring you in the eye. It was a question he’d always had on his mind, but the fact that it finally came from his mouth made the words almost feel tangible.

You think about the question for a moment, beginning to work on the braid closest to the shell of his ear. You pull his head back a bit to start at the root, your scent wafting along his face as you hum, “Mmm, I always thought you were cute. But you know you’re cute, you didn’t need another girl in line to tell you that. I wasn’t tryna’ be a groupie. But you always had a nice voice, and loved the spotlight. It was meant for you.”

He was a grown ass man—nearly nearing thirty, which had passed the age of embarrassment. But you could see the slight tinge on his cheeks, his ears flushing red for a moment before his mouth curved into a grin. 

“You like me, huh?” He raised a brow, looking down into his lap to hide the smile on his face. That’s when he noticed the time on his phone, glancing up into the mirror, “Damn,” he huffed, “I’m bout’ to be here all night wit’ you. You needa’ get faster.”

“If I go faster it’s gonna hurt,” you remind him, looping the hair in your fingers just a tad bit tighter, watching as he grimaced in response.

"Ayo!" He flinched, reaching back to try and pry your fingers off his head. You were quick to let go in response, but it proved your point. 

“You don’t got’ to pull like that…” he groaned.

“You gon’ let me do my job?” You raise an eyebrow, “You’ being irritating. I’m not the one who came over ten at night, Onyankopon. You’ got somewhere to be?”

He smacked his lips again, “I was just sayin’...“ 

In truth, he wasn't trying to leave your place immediately—he wanted to be around you. You always seemed to know exactly where to touch him. That, and your perfume always made his head spin.

"You gon' tell me who you dating, or you got a line of niggas?" He countered, his gaze meeting yours through the mirror.

“Nobody at the moment. I’ve been too busy with work,” you reply shyly, finishing up his first braid with a tight end, moving on to the second patch of hair, “My male clients usually have girlfriends—who want to be on the phone the entire time to watch me,” you chuckle.

“So that means you ain’t gon’ give me no love?” He grinned, reaching a hand behind him to press against your thigh, squeezing it gently. Your entire body shivered at his warm palm along your skin, the hand nearly wrapping against your entire leg. 

"A nigga just want to talk to you, be on you. You be’ all shy and shit," he grumbled, "Maybe I will find another braider for real, yo' ass stay bein' mean to me."

You giggle at his touch, even if it makes you nervous—maybe a little horny. You smacked his hand away, “So you flirt with all the people that work for you? That’s what I’m getting from this.” 

“Nah. Just you,” he replied without missing a beat, a confident smile on his face. “C’mon, say somethin’.”

You didn’t even need to look into the mirror to know he was staring at you—that alone made your insides twist. 

A loud sigh left your lips as you shook your head, “You’re gonna mess around and get yo’ feelings hurt. I’m just doing your hair, Onyankopon. You’ll have thousands of girls to choose from at your show tomorrow.”

“We ain’t talking about them. We talkin’ about you.”

He wanted you to look at him. But he knew you wouldn’t do such a thing until you finished his hair. 

So he relented, pulling out his phone to check his messages—there wasn’t much to see, though. A silence had become between the two of you, comforted by the music playing in the back. His fans had been bombarding his team for the past few days, ever since the news of his new album came out. And, sure, he’d be surrounded by girls tomorrow. But those girls weren’t going to be you.

“You gon’ be at my show since you know about it now, right?”

You were now on the fourth braid, pulling his head back a bit to look at his face. Your eyes narrow, almost having the urge to roll them as you say, “You know I don’t have a ticket, Ony. I’ll watch it after it’s posted.”

He looked up to see the scowl on your face, a laugh escaping his lips, “Don’t even worry about all that. I don’t want you watchin’. I need you there.” 

When you reach out to knock the side of his head, he catches your wrist, bringing it to his lips to plant a sloppy kiss there. Your heart hammered beneath your chest, an unsteady thump resounding through your ribcage.

“You smoked before you got here?” You question, “You’ real touchy—feely today.”

He grinned in reply, “Nah I didn’t, maybe you’ just real fine today. Every day.”

He was laying it on thick. The worst part? That it might’ve been working. You’re now on the final braid, your body unfortunately hot, and a throb between your legs at the sight of him. He was murmuring the music to himself, his deep voice now ringing in your ears.

“You want me to line you up after I’m done braiding, or are you gonna do it yourself? I bought new clippers,” you ask softly, fingers swiftly pulling his hair into a neat bind.

He looked at your reflection, watching as your fingers moved swiftly through his hair. The feeling was pleasant, the sound of your voice even more so. 

“You always do it fine, so yeah,” he murmured. 

The next time you’d reach for his hair, he’d stop you—his hand cupping your wrist to bring it down to his chest. 

“I appreciate you, you know that right?” His voice was low, but you could still hear the sincerity beneath his words. He was staring at you now, his eyes warm.

You blink a bit at his words, and the sincerity makes you smile innocently. 

“I know that,” you nod, “I’m glad you trust me enough to keep coming back.”

His free hand came to cup the side of your cheek, feeling your soft skin beneath his tough palm, "You got some soft skin," he murmured as he stroked your cheek. His thumb lightly brushed your lips, "Pretty lips too, y'know that?"

Your heart is hammering in your chest at this point. He’s fine, full lips moisturized, goatee and facial hair aligned perfectly along his face, jaw structure deadly for him to have his hair braided back. His brown skin was clear—fucking hell. 

You give a nervous laugh as you try to pull yourself back, “…You’ still got one more braid, Ony.”

"You sure you wanna keep going?" He questioned, "You lookin' like you want something else right now."

Your mouth parts a bit at his words, but quickly closes as you try to figure out your reply. You then say, “Yeah, I’m almost finished. I know you’re getting antsy in my chair,” you pull yourself back behind him, quickly maneuvering into finishing off his final braid.

He had to give it to you—you were hard to crack. But that didn’t mean you were good at hiding it. You watch his face become more serious than you’d ever seen, it’s a mixture of something—admiration, lust, need. 

"Yeah, aight. Line my shit up. We gon’ talk.”

You can feel your nerves bundling at the pit of your stomach as you finish off—a tension now palpable in the air. Clippers buzz along his hairline as you lean yourself  close to his chest to get a good angle, your body feeling warm as you’re close to him—you adjust yourself as you softly say, “…Sorry.”

“Nah, you good. Come closer,” is what he says instead, reaching a hand out to grasp your thigh. He grips you gently, but firmly, to get you closer to him. You’re in between his legs now, which he spreads a bit further so you can settle in.

Your hands are trembling. You usually had no issues with this part of your service, but the tension was becoming heavier second by second. You exhale a bit, breathless in your nervous giggle as you confirm, “I’m gonna put some oil on once I’m done—loosen up your braids a bit, okay?”

“Take your time,” he murmurs, voice smooth and low. 

Slowly but surely, he begins to rub his hand back and forth against your thigh. Eventually, it begins to move towards the inside of your thigh, rubbing at the flesh there. You bite your lip, trying to fight back the desire to whimper. 

“You’ quiet now, what’s up with that?”

He’s really getting to you. The simple touch makes your eyes want to roll back. You admit, “Just tryna’ focus while you’re being distracting.”

“I ain’t done nothin’ but rub on you, you’ really that sensitive?”

His lips brush the side of your ear, his warm breath tickling your neck. “How I look, mama?”

You wanna pull back from him, but you’re unable to. You quickly snatch the clippers back as you sit them on the small table beside the chair, giving him a warning look as you caution, “Ony.”

“Why you sayin’ my name like that?” he grunts, fingers gripping the back of your thigh, holding you there. 

“C’mere—Lemme’ taste you.”

You breath hitches at his words, and your mouth is only centimeters from his. Your hand finds its way to the fabric of his shirt, gripping the cotton fiber as your voice is weak, “C’mon, Ony. Stop playing.”

His eyes are hooded at this point, “Who playin’?” 

His mouth captures your bottom lip, slowly dragging it between his teeth. You actually whimper at the feeling, your thighs squeezing together beneath your shorts. Pulling you fully onto his lap, he kisses you, not letting you pull away as he cups the back of your head to keep you there. His tongue is rough inside of your mouth, a satisfying hum heavy against your lips as he makes out with you.

You’re shuddering against his mouth, a frown pulled at your eyebrows at how good his kiss is. It makes your entire body thrum, clutching the material of his shirt even tighter. It’s like you’re having an orgasm—all he’d done was kiss you. 

The heat of his skin, the smell of his cologne is all intoxicating. He’s pulling your head back so that he can kiss your throat. His lips are smooth as he’s sucking the skin—your body feels like jelly. 

Your hand clutches the side of his neck, “W—Wait Ony…mmph,” ” you pant. 

When his mouth comes back down to meet yours, he kisses you deeper, groaning into your mouth. You attempt to keep him in one place, but you know you don't have the strength to keep him from having his way with you.

You gasp softly as he tugs up your baby tee, brown nipples dropping straight into his mouth the moment he drags his tongue out to catch them. Your eyes lock down to the way his mouth moves—it’s effortless. 

You’re latching along his hair, trembling above him as you suck air down your throat, “T—They’re s—sensitive…” he’s lapping your breast into his mouth, your skin becoming hot on his taste buds.

“Got a nigga acting greedy as fuck.” 

He’s almost mad at the sight, sucking harshly and letting your nipples drop out his mouth, milliseconds later catching your entire breast back in between his full lips. The skin is starting to bruise, your legs squeezing against his lap as a deep relaxation comes over you, a warming tingle in your spine.

You were writhing on top of him, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly as he sucked and nibbled on your nipples— you’re trembling, “Oh god... oh fuck..." you’re panting as if you’d run a marathon, biting your lip as you felt yourself growing wetter and wetter between your legs, “Don’t…stop…”

His mouth was almost aggressive at this point, a loud popping sound leaving his lips each time he pulled away. The music within the room is dousing your brain. 

His voice was low and raspy, "You look’ soooo muhfuckin' sexy right now. Take all this shit off. Need you naked as fuck.” 

He reaches down between the both of you, pressing his palm against the front of your shorts, the contact making you whimper as he groans, “Ooh shit, pussy drenching them shorts—I know that shit glistening all pretty. Nasty ass bitch,” The heat continuously develops in between your legs, wetness creating more and more by the second. 

He starts rubbing his hand against you, back and forth, the heel of his hand grinding against your clit. It’s making your head spin, your hips move with his hand, whining softly as he starts kissing you again, lips soft against yours, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth.

Dark brown eyes stare into yours, his expression serious—intense. You jump as he slams his palm down on your ass, grunting, “Up,” your body complying as you stand halfway above him to remove your shorts, allowing your top to quickly follow— you’re now completely naked on his lap.

He’s nothing like you had before. With that, he dips his hands in between your legs to pull you back up in a standing position against the chair, palms locked against the back of your thighs as he scoots himself lower, tugging your body down so quickly that your entire pussy rubs against his jaw. 

A mixture between a deep chuckle and groan comes from his mouth as he’s already running his tongue chaotically against your clit. Your lower lip drops open as you gasp, pressing yourself into his arm to not fall, riding his face within the air.

His mouth was a mess as he grinds you down on his tongue, so deep in between your folds that he’s tasting himself. His tongue was strong, heavy, eyes closed as if your body was a rarity. Onyankopon’s facial hair was coated, dripping against your thighs as he eats you out. He was being lazy with it, almost too comfortable within the chair, hands digging into the back of your thighs as he forced himself deeper, nose pushing against your mound. He was choking on your pussy—but he was enjoying every single bit of it.

“Oh— my g—god!” you pant out, gasping in between, “Ony…ohshi—Ony!…” he’s bouncing you against his face, using his free hand to spank the skin of your ass, flesh shaking in his palm. You’re losing nerves in your brain, dropping your face down as you whimper, “You’ in my pussy, baby…fuck…”

“‘Could tell you ain’t never had a nigga eat you like this—shit a muhfuckin’ delicacy, I’m just slurping this shit the fuck up—fuckin’ love this shit," he said, moaning it, slurping, slurping, his voice was almost like a murmur, "Fuckkk, imma’ have you squirting on this big ass dick."

Onyankopon was growling against your clit, a wet noise coming from his lips as he sucked on you, his mouth covered at this point. His hands were grabbing at your thighs, spreading them apart so he could see your juices rolling down the skin.

There was a rhythm to it—his mouth moved like a metronome as if he were making a song, a steady beat as he eats you out.

He was almost high from the taste, his mouth watering as he lapped up everything you were giving him. His chin was daubed, tongue flicking up to catch a bit of the spit as he was using it to lubricate your pussy, trying to make it easier for his tongue to slide inside. Again, again. 

His tongue is long, rolling around from the bottom of your entrance all the way up to your clit. He's eating you like he loves you, mouth open, tongue sloppy, just groaning,  licking—you’re feeling faint. 

He was making a mess of your pussy. 

Your eyes are rolling at this point, a discomfort beginning to form in your legs from the way you’re hovered above him. But it’s all so good—you’re spinning. Shaking. Trembling. All of the above. 

“Ony….I t—think I’m cumming,” you softly cry, beginning to rotate your hips in a circle along his face as you weakly whine, grasping a hold of his hair as you whimper, “I—I’m c—cumming…”  

“I hear that gushy ass pussy, that bitch singing to me.” 

At that second—you hear yourself gush against his face, squeezing your thighs against his head, body shuddering like a harsh chill had taken a marathon against your spine. You’re robbed of time to come down from the orgasm, Onyankopon pulling you back down to sit along his lap as he grunts, “Come pull this dick out.”

You whimper in response, dipping your fingers into his pants nonetheless. Your acrylics graze against the hefty weight of his tip you feel for—and it’s big. 

You’re pulling, pulling for more than two seconds, watching as it slaps a little over his belly button. Dark pink, a beautiful brown matching his complexion. Your eyes widen a bit, the gasp your throat that wanted to release now caught in his palm as he’s holding you by your neck. 

He tugs you forward, “Spit in my fuckin’ mouth.”

He’s nasty. You pull him into a sloppy kiss, letting your saliva run against the tip of your tongue, meeting with his mouth that makes him glare at you, “Freaky ass lil’ bitch, huh? I’m finna’ do you in witcho’ pretty ass. Come sit on this shit.” 

“Too big, Ony…” you whimpered before you thought about your words, knowing he was already arrogant. 

And you weren’t wrong for thinking that. His mouth twists in amusement against the shell of your ear, hand rubbing along the curve of your ass before smacking it, “You either gon’ bend over so I can watch my dick go in and out this pretty ass pussy, or sit that shit on me.”

Your eyes glance back down—his dick was standing straight up, swollen at the tip, thick veins running across the shaft, and a toned belly for you to grip onto. But you knew he wasn’t repeating himself. 

He murmurs, “Go slow, baby. I got you,” easing your anxiety, moving his hand around to the back of your neck, pulling you into the softest kiss he’d given you this entire time.

You adjusted your hips as you rubbed his tip along your folds throughout the kiss, mouth falling open as you whimpered again, his throat humming, nodding gently for you to continue. Your folds stretch apart as you begin sinking down, keeping yourself kissing him to distract from the immediate discomfort you feel. You pull your mouth back slightly to press your forehead against his, also holding the back of his neck as your breathing becomes chaotic, chest heaving a bit as you whisper, “…Oh my…” you suck in a breath, “goddd…” you drag your words so lowly, and he hears every syllable.

“Yeah?” He grunts, “Why you’ squeezing’ my shit like that?” 

He’s cooing to you. His balls slap lightly against the weight of your ass, hearing the slick of your pussy as he pulls you back up. Onyankopon dips his fingers into your mouth, coating them before he lowers his hand to massage your bruised walls for a millisecond, making it easier to push his dick back in.

He helps ease you back down, fingers rubbing at the back of your hips as he drops you fully down his length. Your eyes clamped shut as you cried out, eyes rolling as you dragged out a whine, “Onyyy…” all while he sucked on the spot between your neck and collarbone, moaning into it to keep you open. 

You pull your face back to meet him, keeping your foreheads connected as he begins raising you halfway up, dragging you back down, dick disappearing between your thighs. Your arousal is splattering in between your skin stuck together, ripping apart each time you’re pulled back up, clapping as you come back down.

“This all you needed, needed this pussy played with. Shit pretty as fuck. Makin’ art on my dick.” 

He was getting used to the rhythm, leaning his head back against the seat to look at you. His hands were planted on the back of your thighs, the muscles rippling as he helped pull you back up before slamming you back down, his mouth open, eyes half-lidded.

He was watching you—The way you were crying out, the way you were cursing him out, the way you were begging for more, and the way you were fighting for breath.

He was watching it all—taking it all in. You were perfect. 

Each time you protested, “Babyyyy,” he tugged you down harder, the pressure rubbing against your pussy, the warmth of it making you shudder. He’s talking, “I hear you, Mama. Fuck, you drenching my shit.” 

His hands were firm against your hips, helping to guide you up and down. He was almost wrestling you, a dominant nature he had coming out the longer he fucked you. Your ass is applauding against his thighs, breasts bouncing, your mouth releasing breathless sounds you’d never heard before. It makes you feel like those final nerves within your brain were no more, wrapping your arms around his neck as you let him take you—pouting as you talk to him, “This your pussy baby…” you whine, softly crying, mewling the words to him. You’re making promises.

“That’s how you feelin’?”

He slides his palm against your asscheek, gripping the skin there as he moves his index finger over your hole, the feeling making you tense. You lean yourself forward a bit as he’s nudging the tip of it into you, using the rest of his fingers to keep you bouncing down. You whimper deeply, the pleasure and pain knocking you every which way as he’s filling you up in both places—he was trying to kill you.

Nonetheless, you keep yapping, “Your fuckin’ pussy, Daddy…gonna come to your show…”

You drag your tongue along his neck, sucking there petulantly as you look down, seeing as you cream on his length, coating the shaft white. You’re so horny, even if he was fucking you at this exact moment.

“No you not. Finna’ be sleep all day after this,” he grunts, “You creamin’ on my shit. Pretty as fuck.”

His hand wraps around the back of your neck to pull you down for another heated kiss, sucking the taste of yourself off your tongue. His other hand held you by the hip, moving you faster, finger thrusting in your hole deeper.

He’s strong—in lost time, he stands from the chair as he places your legs over his shoulders, taking a step forward to place you right along the mirror you used to show your clients their finished hairstyle. He was tugging at your neck, making sure you were locked in his arms as he began dropping you on his dick, making you squeal, a moan spilling from your lips as you whine, "Oh shittttt.” 

“Look at you, fuckin’ bad girl. Yeah, look at me, look at you, look at that shit gushing for me.”

He was pounding you from the bottom, his balls slapping between your folds, your arousal making the sound reverberate through the room. A feeling you never felt before surrounded your aura, a pleasure so good that you felt emotional, your eyes beginning to form tears as you suck in a breath, releasing as you sobbed, “Ugnh, fuck.”

He’s fucking you so hard that the mirror across began steaming up, showing only a faint outline of your body. You flick over to it, seeing the strawberry tresses of your hair sticking to your face, your expression ruined. 

Your mouth was dangerous as you writhed, “Ony,” a way that was close to a shout, talking through each thrust, “Love. This. Dick. Baby…”

His mouth came to yours to stifle the sounds, hand clamped around the back of your neck. His teeth were scraping your lips, his tongue slipping inside to fight yours as he’s pounding you in place, the sensation making you shake.

"You gon' cum? Gonna squirt all over his dick? Pussy gettin’ tight as fuck…damn…” he groans, locking his eyes down to see himself go in and out, in and out, in…and out.

“Gonna squirt all over you,” you sniffle in a small gasp, unaware of your own mouth at this moment, “Harder—please…” 

His mouth was a mess, tongue thick and long, lapping against your neck and collarbone, sucking the skin there, his mouth wide open, slurping the taste of you up. He squeezed your hips so hard that you were crying out. He was slamming himself into you, a groan of pleasure spilling from his lips as he buried his face against your throat, sucking it up as he grunted, “Finna’ have you at every fuckin’ show. Up in the private rooms, gon’ fuck you after every song.”

You’re gone, becoming entirely silent as your eyes are filled with tears that wouldn’t stop, nodding your head to every word as you hold onto him. The silence, listening to the sounds of your skin coming together in music, a sound rips from your throat before you could realize—pure bliss, a scream projecting out as you squirt, the arousal spouting, pushing him far enough for his tip to now be halfway in. Your body feels exhausted, eyes back into staring inside your head as you cum. 

And it broke him, he was moaning into your throat—mouth open, eyes closed, pulling himself out as his tip rubbed against your inner thigh, cumming against the warm skin. Your body was tired, exhausted, satisfied. 

You struggled to keep yourself wrapped along his neck. As the both of you caught your breath, you brought your eyes up to him, using the last bit of strength you had to give him a soft peck against his lips. Onyankopon couldn’t help himself—You looked so pretty at this moment, yet the innocent kiss makes him chuckle lowly, holding you up more as he questions, “You aight’?”

You press your face within his neck as you murmur, “Mhm,” your eyes feeling heavy, “Don’t think imma’ make your show, Ony…” you pout sleepily.

He laughs at how cute you were being—it’s a stark difference from your usual reserved demeanor. 

“It’s straight, baby. You’ll be on my mind the moment I get there—that’s fasho.’” 

He pecks your forehead, “You want me to stay tonight?”

Your eyes won’t open at this point. You could figure out the meaning of this moment later. You just wanted to be wrapped in that damn scent of his—tonka bean.

“If you’ actually plan on sleeping, you can stay…” 

“Damn, no late night nookie?” 

“Onyankopon.”

“My fault. Night, shawty.”

[cupidbedsy]

congrats on 1k my love, you deserve it & so much more 🫧🤍

can i please request the most sunniest sunflower 🌻 with the prompt “frantically making out to try getting sleepy” with our beloved bedsy? feel free to expand on this however your heart desires :)

✿ CUPID'S FLORAL SHOP ✿

here's a freshly picked sunny sunflower 🌻 !

warnings: not being able to fall asleep

word count: 0.9k

florist cupid: thank you so much livvy! i love you 🙁 also thank you for requesting bedsy boy bc i am such in a bedsy mood rn

you've been tossing and turning in the bed for the past 15 minutes and you have still yet to fall asleep. connor's game had ended about an hour ago and during it you had almost succumbed to sleep every time they stopped the play, but now sleep doesn't even bother to make an appearance in your mind.

you had texted him sometime during the third period, telling him how tired you were and that you might be asleep when he got home, and after the game when you were on the edge of sleep, you texted him congratulations and how proud you were of him.

then, you ended up asleep... for all of 30 seconds, and now here you were wide awake and staringly frustratingly up at the ceiling. which you suppose, the only bright side of having to be awake is that now you can see connor has soon as he gets home.

you can hear the faint creak of the door and the soft thudding of shoes being kicked off. moments later, connor's walking through your bedroom door, hair messy and eyes tired.

his gaze lands on you instantly, unable to keep the smile from growing on his face, "hey baby.."

you return the smile, pulling the comforter up to your neck and turning so you're laying on your side, "hi."

"thought you'd be asleep already," he walks over, leaning down to kiss your forehead and run a hand through your hair.

"tried, slept for 30 seconds and then i couldn't go back to sleep."

he frowned at your words, continuing to play with your hair, "'m sorry, babe. let me change and i'll lay with you, yeah?"

you nod, watching as he stepped back, heading towards the closet to grab his clothes. you closed your eyes as you waited for him, attempting to fall asleep once again.

he came back a few minutes later, clad in a pair of sweatpants and a random shirt. he slid beneath the sheets, arm immediately finding home around your waist and pulling you closer to him.

"how was your day?"

you rambled softly about your day, the highs and lows and everything in between, and he sat there listening like he always did, playing with the ends of your hair.

when you were done, you could feel yourself growing more tired but not enough to fall asleep yet, so you let connor launch into a rant about the game, eyes lighting up as he spoke about the goal he scored.

and still, by the end of his game recap, the two of you were still awake, staring at each other with more than tired expressions. connor's hand trailed to your hip, fingers brushing across the sliver of skin that was exposed.

the unexpected touch sent a small shiver through you, but you welcomed it nonetheless, fluttering your eyes closed as you focused on it.

his touch did nothing to lull you asleep, in all honestly it made you even more awake and aware. as you opened your eyes, he was already looking at you, causing your cheeks to heat, "why're looking at me?"

"what? am i not allowed to look at my girlfriend?"

"not what i said," you mumbled.

he tightened his grip on you, bringing you closer so your foreheads rested against each other's. it was silent for a while, both of you just taking in the other's small details, until connor's low, mumbled voice made it's way to your ears, "y'know, i do have a solution for our problem here."

you raised an eyebrow, amused by the slight cheekiness in his voice, "and what's that, connie?"

he didn't reply, just cupped the back of your head, kissing you softly with the slightest bit of heat behind it. you instantly melt into the kiss, moving to tangle your hands into his hair.

you can't help the giggle that escapes you when he groans as you tug at his hair, pulling away to look at him. you can see a growing pout on his face, poking his cheek to try and get a smile out of him, "what's the pout for?"

"you pulled away." his frown was prominent now, his eyes almost glaring at you.

"oh poor baby, c'mere." he grins as you pull him back in for another, kiss, wrapping his arms around your waist.

it doesn't take long for things to escalate after that, connor sitting up so his back is pressed against the headboard, lifting you into his lap, and moving to leave kisses across your neck.

and after, ten five minutes, the two of you pull apart, lightly panting as you stared at each other. connor lifts his hand, brushing your hair out of your face and tucking it behind your ear, "you're gorgeous, y'know that?"

"connie," your whine echoes through the room as you bury your head into his neck, a soft blush covering your cheeks.

he scratches your back, dragging his fingernails up and down your spine, "what? just complimenting my girl."

seconds pass and you could finally feel your eyelids start to get heavier and heavier, breathing evening out. you mumble out a 'yes' when he asks you if you're getting sleepy, and soon you pass out against him, grip going lax.

he shifts so the two of you are lying side-by-side, pulling you impossibly close before he drifts off to sleep as well.

back to the shop ! ; navigation !

[transformers-spike]

Knockout, Ratchet, Megatron, and Optimus with taking care of a/their pregnant reader? Are they cuties?

Ohhh boy, mixed reactions all around

Knock Out has more trouble than the others. He may be a soldier, doctor and part time scientist, but he is not good at dealing with the human fluids involved. He is horrible at comforting you during morning sickness. It disgusts him and he can't shut his intake. He wants to help you obviously, but for now he's just as likely to empty his fuel tanks. So he's literally doing this:

After the first phase, it gets a little better. It truly starts to hit him how you're carrying his offspring and the mindfuckery of it all. He does care, he's just much better at checking in on you and ticking down the checklist of your needs than dealing with the gross stuff. He will cuddle you tho and give lots of praise

Ratchet is doing pretty well all things considered. It's just the stress that's getting to him. Ironically enough, taking care of you means he also needs to to take care of himself. Someone has to be here for you and the offspring, so he's going to do his best to make sure he doesn't work himself to scrap. He can be quite annoying when it comes to checking in on your wellbeing. He is a doctor dammit and he wants to make sure you're getting the necessary human analysis (government sponsored obv bc you broke all natural laws carrying his spawn) - and also his own because he's the only Cybertronian doctor around. He's going to rest with you on his chassis, holding onto his child's developing EM field, unable to process being a dad until his kid is actually born. He will cry Megatron is... very outwardly affectionate about the whole thing. Nuzzling his human and telling them how their spawn is going to lead the Decepticons to glory. He is very proud of you for carrying it, and he's very likely to stroke your growing belly with a digit for hours on end. He's got Knock Out (maybe even Shockwave if he's around) carrying out medical tests to make sure things are going well. You are held 24/7 for safety reasons, and he is not grossed out by morning sickness. He's going to rub your back while you puke and say it's only a small price to pay for what you're creating. Although, he is very irritable towards everyone else during this. He worries terribly for the birth, but he doesn't even fully realize it. Also impatient as all hell looming over you poking at his child's EM field. He cradles it and reassures his spawn it has a bright future in front of it. Megatron keeps you to his chassis at all times, right against his spark. Knowing him, he'll try to establish a spark bond with his kid even before it's born. Not sure if it works tho Optimus is coping. Maybe it's the other Primes inside of him, but he's handling your pregnancy quite well. Yes, he is very busy - but he does find the time to watch over you. He's very likely to just lie down and let you rest in his servo. Just covering him in pillows and getting comfy. He's very gentle with you. Willing to give you privacy during morning sickness or rub your back with a digit while you're dealing with the worst time of your life. He desperately wants his child to live in a world without war - and this may push him to uh... be a lot more aggressive towards Megatron. This bot is determined to protect his kid and make sure his offspring lives a happy life. He's going to press you to his cheek and just... cuddle you this way. Because he is overwhelmed with emotion and loves you so very much. He will also carry you a lot btw, especially during the third trimester.

[hansmic]

ɱαყɓε เƭ’ร ƒαƭε…

leeknow x gn! reader

summary: Every time they run into each other, it’s a coincidence—at the same restaurant, in the same aisle at the grocery store, or even on the same plane. They joke that the universe is trying to tell them something, but neither is brave enough to make the first move—until one day, they do.

genre: fluff, romance

warnings: kissing!!

word count: 5.4k

———————————————————————

Leeknow couldn’t believe their luck when they ran into each other again. It was as though the universe was pushing them together, over and over again. But this time, Leeknow was determined to make his move. He approached you with a confident smile.

"Looks like fate has struck again," he said, his voice tinged with a hint of nerves. "But this time, I won't let you slip away."You couldn't help but giggle at his cheesy pickup line.

"Oh really?" you smirked, raising an eyebrow. "And how many minutes did it take you to convince yourself it was good?"

Leeknow chuckled, running a hand through his hair sheepishly. "Alright, I'll admit it took a few tries," he conceded. "But hey, it made you smile, didn't it?"

You couldn't deny the truth in that statement. Leeknow had always had that effect on you. But you couldn't help but tease him a bit more. "Yeah, it made me smile because it was so corny," you teased, a mischievous glint in your eye.

Leeknow put a hand against his chest in mock offense. "Corny? Ouch, that hurts. And here I thought I was being smooth."

You laughed again, enjoying his playful banter. "Smooth, huh? Well, you definitely have room for improvement," you teased, poking him gently in the arm.

Leeknow pretended to pout, but his eyes were sparkling with amusement. "Alright, alright, I get it. I need to work on my pickup game. But can you blame me? You make me nervous," he admitted, a shy smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Nervous, huh?" you repeated, unable to hide the hint of satisfaction in your voice. "I have that effect on you, do I?"

Leeknow rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking sheepish. "I guess you do," he confessed. "I mean, you're just...you're different, you know? Whenever I'm around you, my brain just turns to mush and I can hardly form a coherent sentence."

You felt a flutter in your chest at his words. Leeknow, the confident and charming guy who could make anyone swoon, was saying that you were the one leaving him speechless.

"Well, I suppose I should take that as a compliment," you joked, trying to hide the effect his words had on you. "Leaving you speechless is quite an accomplishment, you know."

Leeknow chuckled at your words, his eyes never leaving your face. "You're right, it is an accomplishment. But you know what would be an even bigger accomplishment?"

You raised an eyebrow, curious about what he was going to say next. "What's that?"

Leeknow took a step closer to you, his voice lowering as he spoke. "Getting you to say yes to a date with me."

A mix of surprise and excitement fluttered in your stomach. Was he actually asking you out? "A date, huh?" you said, your voice a little shaky. "And what makes you think I'll say yes?"

Leeknow smirked, his confidence starting to return. "Well, I figure I must have done something right if the universe keeps bringing us together like this," he said, gesturing between the two of you. "Besides, I have a feeling you've been secretly hoping I'd ask you out."

You rolled your eyes affectionately. "You're awfully sure of yourself, aren't you?"

Leeknow shrugged, a cocky grin on his face. "What can I say? Confidence is my middle name," he joked. "But come on, you can't deny that there's something between us. We keep running into each other like this—it's got to be more than just a coincidence."

You hesitated for a moment, considering his words. As much as you wanted to deny it, there was an undeniable truth to what he was saying. You'd felt it every time you ran into each other—a spark of attraction, a sense of connection that went beyond mere chance meeting.

You took a deep breath, butterflies fluttering in your stomach. "Okay," you said, your voice soft but steady. "I'll go on a date with you."

Leeknow's face lit up with a mixture of relief and happiness. He hadn't expected you to actually say yes, but now that you had, he felt like he was floating on air. "Great," he said, a wide grin spreading across his face. "Then it's a date. Can I pick you up tomorrow night at 7?"

You nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. "Tomorrow night at 7 sounds perfect," you said, feeling a rush of excitement mixed with nervousness. You were actually going on a date with Leeknow.

"Perfect," Leeknow echoed, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "I'll see you then. And just so you know, I plan on wowing you. You won't regret saying yes."

You laughed, feeling a mix of anticipation and disbelief. "Oh, I don't doubt it," you replied, teasing him a little. "You're going to have to pull out all the stops to impress me."

Leeknow's grin widened. "Challenge accepted," he said, his voice dripping with determination.

You couldn't help but admire his confidence. "I look forward to seeing what you come up with," you said, a flirtatious edge to your tone.."

Leeknow chuckled, his eyes raking over you in a way to makes your heart flutter. "Oh, you can count on it being something special," he promised, stepping closer to you. He raised a hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You swallowed hard, suddenly very aware of how close he was standing to you. His proximity was making it hard to think straight. "I trust you," you managed to say, your voice coming out softer than you intended.

Leeknow smiled at your words, his expression softening. "Good," he said, his hand lingering on your cheek for a moment before he reluctantly pulled away. "Until tomorrow then."

As he turned to leave, he couldn't help but flash you one more cocky grin over his shoulder. "Oh, and get ready to be wowed. I don't hold back."

You watched him walk away, a mixture of anticipation and nerves swirling in your stomach. You had a date with Leeknow tomorrow night, and you couldn't stop the excited flutter in your heart at the thought.

But as the reality of the situation sunk in, you began to feel a bit overwhelmed. What were you going to wear? Where was he taking you? And most importantly, how were you going to survive being alone with him for an entire evening without making a complete fool of yourself?

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. You had plenty of time to figure all of that out, and besides, you had a feeling that Leeknow would be just as nervous as you were. The thought brought a small smile to your face.

It was finally the day of your date with Leeknow, and you were a bundle of nerves. You spent hours trying to decide what to wear, going through your entire closet before finally settling on an outfit that made you feel confident and nice.

Time ticked by slowly as you waited for Leeknow to pick you up, your heart pounding faster with every minute that passed.

Finally, at exactly 7 pm, you heard a knock at your door. You took one last look in the mirror, smoothing down your clothes and taking a deep breath before opening the door.

Leeknow was standing on the other side, looking as handsome as you remember. He was dressed in a nice pair of jeans and a button-down shirt, and he had a charming smile on his face.

"Hey," he said, his eyes taking in your appearance. "You look amazing"

You felt your cheeks warm at his compliment, unable to prevent a smile. "Thank you," you replied, stepping backward so he could come inside. "You don't look so bad yourself."

Leeknow chuckled, stepping into the house and closing the door behind him. "I try my best," he said, his eyes lingering on you for a moment too long.

There was a beat of silence as both of you seemed to realize how close you were standing to each other. You could feel the heat radiating off his body, and your heart began to race.

"So, ready to go?" he asked, breaking the silence. His voice sounded huskier than you'd ever heard it before.

You nodded, grateful for the opportunity to get some distance between you two before you did something stupid like launch yourself at him. "Yeah," you said, trying to sound casual. "Just let me grab my jacket."

Leeknow waited patiently as you slipped on your jacket, his eyes never leaving your face. When you were ready, he held open the door for you, gesturing for you to go first.

The cold night air hit your face as you stepped outside, and you shivered involuntarily. Leeknow noticed and stepped closer to you, his hand gently resting on your lower back to guide you towards his car.

You felt a shiver that had nothing to do with the weather run down your spine as his hand made contact with your back. You hoped he couldn't feel the effect he was having on you.

He led you to the passenger side of his car and opened the door for you, waiting until you were safely inside before closing it and circling around to the driver's side.

You buckled your seatbelt as Leeknow got into the car and started the engine. He reached over to turn on the radio, scrolling through the stations until he found one playing a song you both liked.

As he pulled away from the curb, you snuck a glance at him out of the corner of your eye. The way the streetlights illuminated his face made him look even more handsome than usual, and you felt a pang of butterflies in your stomach.

Leeknow caught you looking at him and shot you a sideways glance, a smirk playing on his lips. "Like what you see?" he teased.

You felt your cheeks burn with embarrassment, but you played it off as best you could. "Don't flatter yourself," you replied, trying to sound nonchalant. "I was just looking at how badly you need a haircut."

Leeknow pretended to look offended, his hand going up to touch his hair protectively. "What's wrong with my hair?"

You pretended to study his hair, pretending to consider your answer. "It's just so...messy," you said, gesturing to the locks that fell over his forehead. "It looks like you just rolled out of bed."

Leeknow huffed in mock indignation. "Hey, this messy look takes effort, you know. Every strand is carefully placed to ensure maximum charm."

You couldn't help but chuckle at his exaggerated protests.

"Right, I'm sure it takes hours to achieve this level of tousled perfection," you teased, reaching out to ruffle his hair playfully.

"Hey!" Leeknow protested, but he was laughing as your fingers messed up his carefully styled do. "Watch the hair! This is a work of art, you know."

You laughed at his reaction. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't realize I was dealing with such a delicate masterpiece."

You let your fingers linger just a bit longer than necessary in his hair before pulling away.

Leeknow pretended to pout, but you could see the amusement in his eyes. "You're lucky you're cute," he said, his tone mock-threatening.

You grinned, feeling your confidence grow at his compliment. "Oh, so you think I'm cute, do you?" you said, lifting an eyebrow playfully.

Leeknow's smirk returned, and he spared a glance in your direction. "I do," he said, his voice low and serious. "In fact, I think you're more than just cute.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. There was a sincerity to his tone that sent a flutter of butterflies through your stomach.

You tried to hide your reaction, but Leeknow seemed to pick up on it, because his smirk widened. “Got you flustered, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to play it cool. "Please, it takes more than a few compliments to get me flustered."

Leeknow chuckled, clearly not believing you. "Oh, really? And what does it take to get you flustered, then?”

You thought for a moment, trying to come up with a smart retort. But your brain was completely blank, and the only thing you could think about was the way he was looking at you.

Leeknow seemed to sense your predicament and chuckled again. "Speechless, huh?"

"Shut up," you muttered, looking away from him. You could feel your cheeks burning, and you knew that he could see your blush even in the dim light from the car's dashboard.

Leeknow chuckled again, clearly enjoying himself. "Hey, it's okay to admit it." He reached over and poked your cheek. "You're adorable when you blush."

You swatted his hand away, trying to maintain some dignity. "I am not blushing," you protested, even though you knew it was a weak argument.

Leeknow pulled the car into a parking spot and shut off the engine, turning to give you a smile. “We're here."

You looked out the window, taking in your surroundings. You could see a small strip of stores and restaurants lit up against the night sky, and the faint sound of music and laughter came from somewhere nearby.

"Where are we?" you asked, turning back to Leeknow.

Leeknow unfastened his seatbelt and leaned closer to you. "It's a surprise," he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "But trust me, you'll love it. Come on."

You couldn't help but feel a flicker of excitement at his words. You unbuckled your seatbelt and followed him out of the car.

The night air was cool and crisp, and you shivered slightly as a breeze blew past you. Leeknow noticed and draped his jacket over your shoulders.

"For the cold," he said, his hand lingering on your shoulder for a moment longer than necessary.

You pulled the jacket tighter around you, feeling a mix of gratitude and something else — something warmer and more fluttery.

Leeknow led the way down the sidewalk, walking beside you. Every so often, his hand would brush against yours, sending jolts of electricity through your body.

The restaurants and shops passed by in a blur, but you barely paid attention. All you could focus on was Leeknow’s presence beside you, and the way he kept sneaking glances at you when he thought you weren't looking.

Finally, Leeknow paused in front of a small, unassuming doorway. "We're here," he said, sounding a little nervous.

You looked at the door, puzzlement etched across your face. "Here... where? I don't see anything special."

Leeknow shot you a cocky grin. "That's because you're not looking closely enough."

He reached out and took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours. "Just trust me and follow me."

Your heart fluttered at the feel of his hand in yours, but you tried to play it cool. "I don't know," you said, pretending to be skeptical. "What if you're leading me into a dark alley to murder me?"

Leeknow snorted. "Please. If I wanted to murder you, I could've done it a million times before now."

He tugged on your hand. "Now come on. I promise, you'll like it."

You allowed him to lead you through the doorway, stepping into the dimly lit space beyond it. It took a few moments for your eyes to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, you gasped.

The room was small and intimate, with soft lighting and low-hanging pendant lamps that cast a warm glow over everything. There was music playing softly in the background, a quiet song you didn't recognize.

You looked around in amazement, taking in the cozy ambience of the place. You'd never been somewhere so romantic and intimate.

Leeknow still held your hand, and he led you to a small table in the corner. "What do you think?" he asked, watching your reaction avidly.

"It's beautiful," you breathed, still looking around in wonder. "How did you find this place?"

Leekown shrugged, sitting down in one of the chairs and gesturing for you to do the same. "I have my secrets," he said, his voice taking on a more serious tone.

He leaned towards you, resting his arms on the table. "I wanted to take you somewhere special. Somewhere that would make this night memorable.”

Your heart skipped a beat at his words. The intensity in his eyes made your stomach do a little backflip.

You swallowed, trying to find your voice. "Well, mission accomplished," you said, your voice coming out a little breathier than you intended.

Leeknow smirked, clearly pleased with himself. "I'm glad you like it," he said, still studying you intently.

There was a brief moment of silence as he continued to stare at you, his gaze making your skin tingle. You fidgeted in your seat, feeling a little flustered under his scrutiny.

"Stop looking at me like that," you said, trying to sound annoyed.

Leeknow chuckled, his smoldering gaze not wavering. "Like what?" he asked, feigning innocence.

"Like you're trying to figure out what I'm thinking," you said, folding your arms across your chest.

Leeknow just kept grinning, his eyes roaming over your face. "Is it working?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

You huffed, trying to sound disinterested. But the truth was that you were far from indifferent to his attention. The way he was looking at you made you feel like the most fascinating person in the world.

"No," you said, though your voice came out a little weaker than you would've liked. "Not at all."

Leeknow chuckled again, clearly enjoying himself. "You lie badly, you know."

He leaned even closer, invading you personal space. "You've been blushing nonstop since we walked in here."

You felt your cheeks grow hot again at his words. "I have not," you protested, but even you didn't believe yourself.

Leeknow raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening. "Really? Because it looks like you're doing it right now."

You wanted to argue with him, to prove that he was mistaken. But the evidence was right there, in the heat radiating off your face.

You gritted your teeth, feeling frustrated with yourself. "Okay, so maybe I'm blushing a little. Happy now?"

Leeknow laughed, clearly enjoying your flustered state. "Oh, very happy," he said, the tone of his voice making it sound suggestive.

He reached out and touched your cheek, his fingers grazing your skin lightly. "You're just so damn cute when you blush."

You shivered involuntarily at his touch, feeling a sharp jolt of electricity shoot through your body.

By the time the waiter brought the check, you and Leeknow had been there for hours. You'd talked about everything and anything, laughing and joking as if you'd known each other for years.

As you watched him hand his credit card to the server, you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment that the night was coming to an end.

Leeknow caught your expression and smirked. "Don't look so sad," he said, seeing right through you. "The night's not over yet."

You raised an eyebrow, curious about what he had in mind. "Oh really? What else have you got planned?"

Leeknow just winked, standing up and taking your hand. "You'll see."

He led you out of the restaurant and back into the cool night air.

The air was crisp with a hint of dampness, and a light breeze rustled through the trees that lined the sidewalk. The street was mostly deserted, the only sound the occasional passing car.

Leeknow didn't say much as he walked, his hand still holding yours. But every so often, he would glance down at you, a smile playing on his lips.

Eventually, he led you to a small park, secluded and dark. There was a small pond in the center, and the sound of frogs and crickets filled the air.

Leeknow let go of your hand and gestured to a bench. "Sit," he said, his voice brooking no argument.

You did as he said, too curious to protest. You sank down onto the cold metal bench, folding your hands in your lap. Leeknow sat down beside you, the distance between you both almost nonexistent.

There was a moment of silence as you both sat there, staring out at the still water of the pond. The only light came from a crescent moon partially hidden by clouds, casting soft shadows on everything.

Leeknow broke the silence, his voice a low murmur. "You know, this is my favorite spot," he said, angling his body towards you.

You turned to look at him, curious. "Why?" you asked, the word barely audible over the hum of crickets.

Leeknow paused for a moment, his eyes fixed on the pond. "I don't know," he said, his tone thoughtful. "There's just something about this place that soothes me, you know?"

You nodded, understanding what he meant. There was a sense of peace here, a tranquility that was almost palpable. It was as if the world outside this small park had ceased to exist altogether.

Leeknow let out a soft sigh, leaning back against the bench. "It's quiet here," he said, his eyes drifting shut. "And when it's quiet, I can think more clearly."

You watched him, taking in his serene expression and the way the moonlight cast shadows across his face. He looked almost otherworldly, as if he belonged in some sort of dream rather than reality.

"What do you think about when you come here?" you asked, your voice whisper-soft in the stillness of the night.

Leeknow opened his eyes, staring out at the pond but seeming lost in thought. "Everything, I guess," he said slowly. "Life, death, love, the universe. You name it, I've probably thought about it here."

You were a little surprised by his answer. You'd expected something simpler, more mundane. But Leeknow had always hinted at layers to his personality, glimpses of a deeper intellect beneath the smirk and the swagger.

"That's a pretty deep answer," you said, a note of admiration in your voice.

Leeknow's lips twitched in a small smile, but his gaze didn't leave the pond. "Most people think I'm shallow because I don't wear my thoughts on my sleeve," he said, a hint of resignation in his voice.

You couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for him. You'd suspected there was more to him than he let on, but hearing him confirm it out loud made you realize just how lonely being someone like him must be.

Leeknow finally looked away from the pond, his eyes finding yours. "Most people only see what they want to see," he said, his words tinged with bitterness. "And they don't want to see complexity. They just want simple and easy."

The pain in his voice was almost palpable, and you felt a sudden urge to reach out and comfort him. But before you could act on the impulse, he looked away again, his expression shutting down.

"Anyway," he said, his tone a little too light, "enough of that. I didn't bring you here to talk about my existential crises."

He shifted on the bench, turning to face you fully. The intense look in his eyes made your breath catch in your throat.

"I brought you here for this," he said, his voice dropping to a near-whisper.

He reached out and touched your face, his fingertips brushing against your skin gently.

You shivered under his touch, a thousand different feelings coursing through you at once.

Leeknow was staring at you with a look you'd never seen on him before. It was equal parts tenderness and intensity, and it made your heart skip a beat.

He leaned forward, closing the distance between you. "Is this okay?" he asked, his voice low and rough.

You could barely trust yourself to even speak, but you managed to nod, your heart hammering in your chest.

That was all the confirmation he needed. Leeknow's hand moved to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer until your faces were mere inches apart. You could feel his breath, warm and tantalizing against your skin.

And then he kissed you.

It was a simple, chaste kiss, just the press of his lips against yours. But the effect was overwhelming. A jolt of electricity shot through you, and suddenly you were hyperaware of everything — the cool night air, the dampness on the grass, the rough bark of the bench digging into your back.

You kissed him back, a soft gasp escaping you as you melted against him. Your hands came up to rest on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart through his shirt.

Leeknow deepened the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips. You parted them, letting him in, your mind going hazy with desire.

The kiss seemed to go on forever, each moment more passionate than the last. You lost all sense of time and space, your whole world narrowed down to the sensations of Leeknow's lips on yours and the heat of his body pressed against you.

When you finally broke apart, you were both breathing heavily. You clung to each other, neither quite willing to let go.

Leeknow let out a shaky laugh, his head falling to rest against your shoulder. "Damn," he breathed, his voice hoarse.

You couldn’t help but laugh as well, feeling lightheaded and giddy with elation. You traced nonsensical patterns on his back, relishing in the steady rise and fall of his chest as he tried to catch his breath.

Leeknow's hand came up to cup your cheek again, tilting your face towards his. His eyes were still intense, but there was something more in them now. Something almost like awe.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper.

The admission took you by surprise. You'd known he was attracted to you, but you hadn't realized just how much. Hearing him confess that he'dwanted to kiss you for a long time sent a flutter of butterflies through your stomach.

"Why didn't you do it before?" you asked, your voice surprisingly steady considering the turmoil of emotions you were experiencing.

Leeknow shrugged, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheek bone. "I wanted to," he said, his eyes locked with yours. "But I was afraid. I didn't know how you'd react."

The vulnerability in his voice made your heart ache. You'd never quite seen this side of him, the uncertainty beneath the bravado.

You reached up and covered his hand with yours, holding it against your face. "You don’t have to be afraid with me," you said softly.

Leeknow's expression softened, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "I know," he said, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair away from your face. "But old habits die hard, you know?"

You understood what he meant. It was easy to wear a mask, to hide behind a carefree demeanor. Exposing your true feelings always came with the risk of rejection.

You smiled back at him, your eyes full of understanding and a deep well of affection. "Just remember that I'm not going anywhere," you said, giving his hand a squeeze.

Leeknow's gaze lingered on you, searching for some sign of deception or insincerity. But you kept your expression open and honest, letting him see the truth of your words.

Finally, he took a deep breath, as if steeling himself for something. "You promise?" he asked, his voice strangely tentative.

Your heart ached at the vulnerability in his voice, but you kept your expression steady and sure. "I promise," you said, your voice firm and resolute.

As the kiss continued, the rest of the world faded away, leaving only the two of you, wrapped up in each other. The night air was cool, but your bodies were warm, the heat between you almost scalding.

Eventually, Leeknow pulled back, his breath hot against your ear. "We can't stay here all night," he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

A pang of disappointment went through you at the thought of leaving, but you knew he was right. The park was getting darker by the minute, and eventually someone was bound to notice the two of you in the shadows.

Reluctantly, you extracted yourself from Leeknow's embrace, standing up and smoothing down your clothes.

Leeknow watched you, a look of pure craving in his eyes as he got to his feet. "Come back to my place."

The suggestion was as much a command as a request, and the tone of his voice sent a shiver down your spine.

Your heart began to beat faster, and you felt a mixture of nerves and excitement. Spending more time with Leeknow was exactly what you wanted, but something about the situation felt different. More serious, more significant.

You looked at him, trying to read the expression in his eyes. They were still burning, the flame of desire still evident in them. But beneath that there was something else — a hint of uncertainty, a trace of trepidation, as if he was afraid you might say no.

You took a moment to consider his suggestion, a thousand different thoughts running through your head. But in the end, there was only one answer you could give. One answer you knew was right.

You met Leeknow's gaze, the intensity in his eyes sending a thrill through you.

"Let's go," you said, your voice little more than a murmur.

Leeknow visibly relaxed, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. "Good answer," he said, his voice still gravelly with want.

He reached out and took your hand, lacing his fingers through yours and pulling you out of the park and towards his car.

The ride back to his place was a blur, your mind still reeling from the events of the night. You stole glances at him as he drove, watching the way his hands gripped the steering wheel, the way his profile looked illuminated by the passing streetlights.

When you reached his apartment, Leeknow led you inside quickly, his hand still holding yours tightly. The door had barely closed before he was pressing you up against it, his lips on yours once more.

The kiss was urgent, desperate, as if he was trying to devour you. Your body responded instinctively, the pent-up tension of the night finally releasing in a burst of raw desire.

Leeknow's hands were everywhere, roaming over your body as if he couldn't get enough of you. His touch was a mixture of tenderness and need, and you found yourself responding in kind, your hands clinging to him as you lost yourself in the sensations.

You were barely aware of moving, of him leading you towards the bedroom. The only thing that existed was the feel of his body against yours, the taste of his lips on yours.

When you finally fell onto the bed, a tangle of limbs and discarded clothing, there were no more words. The silence was filled with the sounds of your breath and your gasps, as you continued to lose yourselves in each other.

Hours later, you lay in the darkness, curled up against Leeknow's side. His breathing was slow and even, and the heat of his body was like a comforting weight against you.

You closed your eyes, your body still thrumming with the aftershocks of pleasure. Sleep tugged at the edges of your consciousness, but you fought it, wanting to stay awake just a little longer and savor the moment.

Leeknow's arm draped across your waist, holding you close. His eyes were closed, but you could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath your head.

In that moment, all the uncertainties and reservations you'd had earlier were gone. There was only Leeknow, and the peace that came with being wrapped up in his embrace.

As you finally drifted off to sleep, you knew without a doubt that you didn't regret coming back to his place. You never wanted to leave. You wanted to stay in this moment forever, with him by your side and your bodies pressed together.

But for now, sleep claimed you, and your dreams were filled with scenes of passion and longing. And in the morning, you would wake up in the same position, your bodies intertwined and your hearts beating in sync.

As you opened your eyes and took in the sight of Leeknow still asleep next to you, a deep sense of contentment settled in your chest. Leeknow's eyes fluttered open, meeting your gaze, and a small, tender smile appeared on his lips. And you knew that whatever the future held, you would face it together.

————————————————————————

a/n: sorry it was so fast pace! but I hope you enjoyed it :)

masterlist is here

[goblinontour]

Only You Know

can you keep the light on?

warnings: …? 

word count: 4k

You never felt comfortable alone in your room. Not because you hated solitude — on the contrary, you needed it. It was the only thing that made sense sometimes, the only thing that allowed you to breathe without feeling like you had to perform, without the weight of existing in front of others pressing down on you. Alone was good. Alone was a necessity.  

But too alone…now that was something else entirely.  

It took you too long to realise the distinction. It had been gradual, subtle. The way the silence started creeping in around the edges of your mind, heavy and inescapable. The way the darkness, once neutral, once unremarkable, began to press in on you, thick and impenetrable. It wasn’t fear, not exactly. Or if it was, it wasn’t fear in the way you understood it. You weren’t afraid of the dark. You weren’t afraid of silence. You weren’t afraid of solitude.  

But then, why did it feel like this?  

Why did it feel like something inside you was unravelling every time the quiet stretched too long, every time the blackness behind your eyelids became indistinguishable from the blackness around you? Why did it feel like you were suffocating when there was nothing here to suffocate you?  

You used to tell yourself it was nothing. That it was just one of those strange, inexplicable things your brain did sometimes, like forgetting what you walked into a room for or suddenly being unable to remember how a word is spelled. But it didn’t go away. It never went away anymore. It only got worse.  

Even now, with him here, with his presence cutting through the silence in the form of slow, steady breaths, that feeling lingers. The emptiness of the room still stretches wide, pressing against the walls, curling under the bed, through the sheets, slithering into the corners. He’s here, but the darkness doesn’t seem to care. It finds a way in.  

You close your eyes, as if that will help. It doesn’t. 

It only makes it worse.  

He shifts beside you, a barely-there movement, but in the thick silence, it sounds like everything. The rustle of fabric, the slow, deliberate inhale, the exhale that follows, warm against your skin. It feels like the only thing tethering you to the moment, to reality really, because without it, the darkness is too vast. Too consuming.  

You aren’t afraid of the dark. You aren’t. But if this feeling — that tightness in your chest, the way your throat constricts, the way your skin prickles with something between unease and dread — is fear, then fine. You’re afraid. You don’t know what of, exactly. The nothingness, maybe. The way the shadows stretch too long across the walls. The way silence rings louder than sound ever could.  

But then again, there’s him.  

The faintest shift of his limbs against the sheets. The subtle creak of the bed as he moves. The warmth radiating off him, seeping into your skin like secondhand sunlight in the middle of the night. He’s still, but not in the way the darkness is. His stillness is alive, full of presence, of breath, of quiet reassurance.  

Still, it’s not enough.  

You roll onto your side, pressing closer, reaching blindly for…him. You don’t even realise you’re doing it until your fingers find him in the shadows, barely skimming over the bare skin of his forearm — warm and real — before settling there. The relief is immediate, though it doesn’t erase the unease entirely.  

But he notices. Of course, he notices.  

He stirs slightly. “Mm?” His voice is thick with sleep, barely more than a hum. He fights the exhaustion. It’s strong tonight, pulling at him, whispering in his ear that it’d be so easy to just let go. Just for a few hours. Just until morning.  

But he forces his eyes open, blinking into the dark, and he listens.  

And that’s when he hears it. The small shift. The hesitant inhale. The way your fingers tighten, just slightly, around his wrist.  

You swallow and hesitate. There’s no real way to explain it, no logical way to put it into words. You don’t want to wake him for nothing, don’t want to seem needy — but the silence was starting to seep into your bones and become unbearable, creeping in around the edges of your mind, pressing down on your ribs, and you didn’t know how to make it stop all on your own. 

Too alone. 

You swallow once more, suddenly unsure of what to say, how to explain something you don’t even fully understand yourself.  

“…You’re breathing.” you say finally, small and quiet, and immediately, you feel stupid. You don’t even know why you said it. It sounds ridiculous the moment it leaves your lips. Of course he’s breathing.   

A pause on his end. Then a quiet, amused chuckle. “Yeah, sweetie…I- I tend to do that.”  

He keeps his tone light. Careful. He knows you’d fold in on yourself if he didn’t — but he lets just enough warmth slip through to make it clear: I hear you. He doesn’t mean to tease. It’s fond, more than anything, but you feel foolish.  

Still, the sound of his voice does something. His presence, the confirmation of it, does something. It doesn’t erase the feeling completely, but it cuts through it, makes it more manageable, and he can probably hear the way your breathing changes, the way it steadies just slightly, the way your fingers curl more securely around his arm and the way your body molds just a little closer. 

That should be enough. That should be enough to let him rest. 

But it isn’t.  

His mind won’t settle. His limbs won’t go heavy.  

Because the silence settles again, and he knows — he knows — that you still feel it. That thing pressing down on you, wrapping itself around you, suffocating.  

But you don’t know how to ask for it. That’s the thing. You never know how to ask.  

For a touch, for a word, for even the smallest, most insignificant gesture. A shift in weight, the press of his palm, the warmth of him seeking you out first. It feels foolish to ask — again. Foolish to need, foolish to want so much when he’s already here. When his body is right next to yours, solid and warm, his breath carving small ripples into the silence.  

Mere presence isn’t the same as touch. It isn’t the same as…reassurance.   

…You’re not used to asking. 

That’s the real problem, isn’t it? You never have been. Not for this, not for anything. Asking makes it real. Makes it feel like a demand rather than a quiet, desperate hope kept hidden. You’ve spent too much time convincing yourself you can survive without. Without it all. That the ache in your chest is just something to be endured rather than soothed, and that it would go away, eventually. It should go away… 

There’s always a moment like this. A stretch of quiet too broad, too thick, even between the two of you, even with his body close, even with his breath threading through the dark like a lifeline. The closeness feels like a mockery when you still manage to make yourself feel alone.  

You squeeze your eyes shut, and pray in your mind, quietly, like maybe that will make it better. Like maybe that will block out the feeling. Your fingers curl tighter around his arm, not tugging, not guiding, just holding. Just…trying to tell him something without having to say it.  

It makes his throat tight.  

He doesn’t know how to give.

Because he’s never been good at giving. Not naturally, at least. He’s been learning, been trying to be better, but sometimes it still feels like he has to fish it out of himself. He wishes it weren’t like that. Wishes he could move without hesitation, could gather you up without the split-second of uncertainty, of doubt. But it’s there. Always there.  

And fuck, if that doesn’t make him feel even worse.  

Because he can feel you waiting. Holding yourself still. 

And all it would take — all it would fucking take — is for him to move.  

…He’s not used to giving, either. 

And lately, you’ve been…forcing him. That’s how it feels, when you let yourself think about it too long, in the hours he’s not here to distract you, when your thoughts spiral into places darker than this darkness that’s around you now, places you can’t claw your way out of. You hate yourself for it. Hate the way it makes your stomach twist, hate the way it makes you wonder if he even wants to hold you, or if he only does because he knows what will happen if he doesn’t.  

It’s not like he feels forced — no. You know that much. He’s tried to convince you too many times to still be thinking those sorts of things. You don’t doubt that he wants you, that he chooses you. It’s just…he’s not used to it. Not like this, not with so much weight behind it.  

So it takes a bit more…a little longer.  

It takes him a moment to shift, to move in the dark, to gather the strength to hold you in the way you need. You feel it in the way his body tenses, the hesitation in his muscles before he finally gives in. He exhales slowly, and then his arm moves — sliding up just slightly, just barely. And then, finally, finally, he pulls you in.  

He sighs, a slow, drawn-out thing, before shifting again, this time moving to accommodate you. His arm drapes over your waist, pulling, pulling, pulling you in until there’s no space left, closing the distance. Until his chest is pressed flush against your back, solid and warm. Until his legs are slotting in between and tangling with yours like he was always meant to fit there. Like this is second nature. Until his breath ghosts against the shell of your ear, slow and even and real.

The movement is so small at first that you almost miss it. Just a slight flex of his fingers against your back, a slow, careful drag of his hand over your body. You hold your breath as he does it, afraid that if you move too quickly, if you react too soon, he’ll stop. 

His breathing changes. You feel it more than hear it, the way it shudders just slightly, the way it breaks apart before coming back together.  

He feels it  — the suffocation. The weight that presses down on your chest is pressing down on him, too. He starts to feel the darkness closing in, just the way you do.  

He’s not afraid of the dark. Not like you are.   

But you make him feel it.  

And that scares him.

It scares him immensely, this feeling. 

This quiet, slow, creeping dread that seeps in every time the lights go out and the world goes still. 

It isn’t the dark itself — no, that’s never bothered him — but what it does to you, what it takes from you. How it twists itself around you, drags you under, swallows you whole. How it clings to your skin, weighing you down, making your body feel smaller, tighter, as if it’s trying to press you into nothingness. The way it makes you shrink, tense up. The way your breath shortens, sometimes without you even realising it. The way you reach for him, barely perceptible, a ghost of a movement, afraid to ask for too much.  

And how, despite everything, he can’t stop it.  

He feels it all, every night, and he still doesn’t know what to do with it. 

Part of him wants to understand. To dig deeper, to pull this thing apart with you, figure out where it began, what it really is. But another part — the bigger part — tells him to keep his distance. Because if just holding you can make him feel this unsettled, this helpless, then what would happen if he let himself really look at it?  

There’s a guilt that comes and haunts him each time he lets his lids close without worrying about the night that will follow. A guilt that gnaws at his stomach when he wakes up with no nightmares to startle him out of sleep, no ghosts pulling him under. There’s something so fucking unfair about that, about how he can slip so easily into unconsciousness while you lie awake, brittle and silent, trapped in something he’ll never quite be able to understand.  

And it makes him feel — God, it makes him feel… 

Helpless.  

What is he supposed to do? He’s not good at this. He’s not built for softness, for knowing the right things to say, the right ways to touch. He’s not even sure if that’s what you want. He can feel you wanting, needing, but you never say it outright, and he doesn’t know how to ask either.  

That’s the worst part. Mostly. 

If he doesn’t reach for you, if he lets himself roll over, if he lets his breathing even out and his body fall slack…

Then you’ll stay like this.  

Alone.  

And the thought of that? Of you lying there, waiting for something that doesn’t come?  

It makes him want to be sick.  

So he does what he can. He lets you hold onto him. He lets himself hold onto you. And when sleep starts to creep in, he tries not to feel like a coward for wanting to give in to it.  

But the guilt is there.

He forces his eyes shut, tries to let the exhaustion pull him under, but his mind fights it. It always fights it. Because what if you need him? What if you really need him, and he’s too lost in sleep to notice?  

His breath slows.

You know he’s not asleep yet.  

You can tell by the way his fingers twitch against your skin, by the way his arm tightens and then loosens again around you, like he’s still testing the weight of his hold. He’s always been a restless sleeper. Sometimes you know he fights it on purpose. 

He shifts, just slightly, presses closer, lets his arm curl around you — not tight, not enough to suffocate, but there. A solid, grounding weight.  

And he feels you relax. Not fully, not completely, but enough.  

Sleep is still pulling at him, and guilt is still curling in his stomach, and his thoughts are still circling, circling, circling…

“What time is it?” he murmurs.  

You shift against him, just slightly, glancing over at the clock. “Late.”  

He hums. “Too late?”  

“Too late for what?”  

He doesn’t know. He really doesn’t. He just feels it, this restless something in his chest, pressing down, keeping him from slipping away. His nose brushes your temple as he exhales, half a sigh, half something else. “Dunno…” A beat. “For thinking. F- for-” He stops, shakes his head slightly. “Never mind.”  

You close your eyes, pressing in closer. His warmth feels heavier now, like it’s settling over you properly. “For talking?” you guess.  

A small chuckle. “Yeah. That too.”   

It’s quiet for a while after that. You don’t say anything, and neither does he. You think maybe he’s finally given in, finally let himself slip under, but then-  

“You okay?”  

He can feel the tension in your body, the way you’re trying to sleep but not really getting anywhere. It’s a stupid question. He knows it. Knows you won’t give him an honest answer. 

But he asks anyway, because it feels worse not to.  

You hesitate. You don’t know how to answer it without waking him up more, so you just nod, knowing he’ll feel the movement against his chest. “Go to sleep, Alex.”  

He should. He really wants to. He makes a little noise, one of those indistinct sounds that means nothing and everything. “Trying.”  

But…he’s not really trying. If he was, he wouldn’t still be thinking. His thoughts are too loud for him to sleep.   

“Does it get better?”  

The words come out before he can stop them.  

You stiffen slightly. “What?”  

He swallows. “The…this.” he says vaguely, gesturing. You don’t know if he means the darkness or the loneliness or the way it makes your chest feel tight. Maybe he means all of it. Maybe he doesn’t even know himself. But you don’t need the clarification. You know. It’s everything that creeps in when it’s just you and your thoughts.  

You don’t answer right away.  

He’s quiet, and you think maybe he’s okay with that and that he’s not expecting an answer. Maybe he just wants to ask the question, to get it out into the open and let it hang there in the dark. He exhales slowly, rubbing a hand down his face. 

He shouldn’t have said anything. 

Maybe it’s better to just let it be.  

But then he murmurs, “I don’t think it does.”  

And you shift against him. “Then why ask?”  

Another shift. Another exhale, longer this time, pressing him into the mattress. “Dunno.” He flexes his arm slightly around you. “I really wish it would.”  

“Me too.” you whisper.  

His fingers trail up your spine, slow, absentminded, barely there. It’s nothing, really, but you know it’s his way of saying I’m here. 

He hopes it’s enough.  

“I should sleep.” he mutters. 

“You should.”  

You feel him hesitate.  

Another pause. 

He’s on the edge now, teetering, about to let himself fall. And against his better judgment, against every instinct and the voice in his head telling him to shut his eyes and just let go, he stays awake.

“Talk to me.” he says. “Just for a bit.”  

“About what?” you ask.  

Are you really still pretending?

Alex is tired. He fights to stay patient. He’s not violent, not harsh, not anything like that. It’s not in him to get angry — not really. But sometimes, you make him so mad.  

Because you know.  

You know what he’s asking, what he’s talking about, and yet you still force him to pull it from you like a tooth. And he knows it’s not on purpose, not some cruel game you’re playing, and he knows it’s hard for you, but it doesn’t make his head pound any less.  

His fingers flex against your back. He exhales slowly, tries to release the tension with it. 

Breathe, just breathe.

“You know what, baby…” 

You pause. It’s like you’re bracing yourself in hesitation. He wonders if you’re stalling or if you just really don’t know where to start. If you feel like you shouldn’t even do it. 

That makes him mad, too.  

Not at you. Just…at the whole thing. At the way this thing eats at you, drags at you, makes you feel like you have to hold it in until it’s bursting at the seams. Until it’s too much.  

He forces himself to be patient. He forces himself to wait, to let you get there at your own pace.  

“…Okay.”  

It’s barely anything, just a breath of sound, but your fingers curl tighter against his arm, and he feels it.  

You want to talk.  

You just don’t know how.  

And he should know that by now, shouldn’t he? He does know it. But sometimes…sometimes he just wants you to say it. Just once. Without hesitation. Without making him work so hard for it.  

But you won’t. Because that’s not who you are.  

So he waits.  

He smooths his palm over your lower back, slow and steady, as if that alone could coax it from you. He wishes he could press the words out of you through touch. If only it were that easy…

“Talk to me.”  

You sigh. The warmth of it ghosts across his collarbone, and he feels something tighten in his chest.  

“It’s just…” You pause, searching. He can tell when you’re picking through words like puzzle pieces, trying to find the right fit. “It’s worse when you’re asleep.” you finally say.  

Alex blinks in the dark. He already knows this, of course he does, but hearing you say it still makes something curdle in his belly.  

“Worse how?” Gentler.  

Another hesitation where you shift, the movement subtle, just a slight press of your body closer to his. “It’s like the whole world disappears. And I know that’s stupid, because you’re right here, but I can’t-” You break off again, and he doesn’t push. He lets you find it. You shake your head against the pillow, frustrated. “I don’t feel it, Alex. And then I start thinking-”

Another pause. Another breath. Alex waits.  

“…I start thinking about how one day, I’ll be alone for real. Like, for real.” Your voice wavers slightly, but you keep going. “And I won’t even have this.” You press closer, as if proving a point. Your fingers twitch against his arm, and then — suddenly — you’re clinging to him. Gripping at his skin like you’re desperate. Making sure he’s still solid beneath your touch. “And it’s so fucking stupid, because I don’t…I don’t even like being around people most of the time. I don’t want to need this. But I do. And then I get mad at myself, and then I feel worse, and-”  

Your voice cracks.  

His stomach drops.  

And then you go quiet.  

For a second, all he hears is the sound of your breathing. Unsteady and uneven.  

He doesn’t realise he’s been holding his own breath until you move against him, trying to melt into him. 

And he lets you.  

He tucks you closer, tightens his grip around you. His palm presses, his thumb rubbing slow, steady circles into the space between your ribs. He slides his other hand up, into your hair, fingertips pressing lightly against your scalp.  

A small shudder runs through you. A release.  

He rests his forehead against yours. His nose brushes your cheek. He listens to the way your breathing changes — slows, steadies.  

He should say something. Should give you some kind of reassurance. Some promise.  

But nothing he says will fix this.  

The reassurances, the contradictions — You’re not alone. I’m here. I’m right here.

What good are words when they won’t fix anything?  

How useless it can feel to just talk, to just listen. No matter what he says, you’ll still have to live with this feeling. He can’t take it from you.  

So instead…he holds you.  

He just holds you. He doesn’t speak right away. 

You feel him breathe — deep and steady, real and here. The darkness doesn’t seem so suffocating anymore. It’s still there, still vast, but it doesn’t feel quite so empty. Not when he’s filling it with something more. 

His hand moves slowly, fingers threading through your hair, nails scratching lightly against your scalp. A soothing rhythm, something constant. You let your eyes slip shut, but you don’t fall yet.  

“I feel it too.”  

Your breath catches. You don’t say anything. Just listen.  

He clears his throat, like the words feel too big. He almost wants to take them back already. 

“I feel it.” he repeats, quieter this time. “Not the same way, maybe. I dunno. But it’s there.”  

His fingers still against your back for half a second before he forces them to keep moving. If he stops and lets himself think too much, he’ll swallow the thoughts down before they fully form. He can’t have that now. 

“But I- I don’t let it scare me.” he says, and there’s the slightest tremor beneath the forced steadiness of his voice. “Not…not like you do.”  

His fingers trail down, brushing over the back of your neck, down the length of your spine. He holds you tighter, like he can press the words into you.  

“Because it- this- it’s too precious to let it get ruined by fear.”  

A breath, shaky this time. He swallows hard, and you can feel it against your temple.  

“I won’t let it overshadow everything else. I can’t, baby.” Convincing himself as much as you. “I won’t let it win. Because you’re here, you know that, right? I’m here.”  

His hand slips under your jaw, tilting your face just enough for his lips to press against your cheek, the corner of your mouth. Slow. Lingering.  

He exhales, his breath warm against your skin. “And that has to be enough, you know?”  

You don’t answer. Don’t need to.  

It…is…enough.  

He doesn’t say anything else. Just presses another kiss to your shoulder, lazy and warm, his lips barely moving when he murmurs-

“Go to sleep, baby.”  

Maybe you were never really afraid of being alone.

You’re just afraid of the dark. 

a/n: Wrote it over the last couple of nights. I don’t know. Don’t look too hard into it.

[seaofashes]

Actually I'm not leaving this in chat with my friend

Kevin Day you'd have loved Epic the Musical if you were real.

[tojipie]

The funny thing about toji is that if you can’t stay quiet, he’ll make you stay quiet.

his line of work comes with an innate knowledge of the human body. every vein, every artery, every ligament, is just another chess piece to map out in his mind. if you can’t keep it down when he’s pummeling his dick into you from behind, no problem, because he’s pressing down on a special little spot right under your windpipe before you can apologize for being too loud, rendering you silent with a low growl.

it’s so hot. so devastatingly hot how calculated he is and how intimately he knows your body. soon enough, a rough hand reaches down to lock your arms behind your body, your only balance being your two feet that were currently tip-toed to accommodate for his towering height.

the thing you’re most in awe of is the fact that you can breathe completely fine. your vision doesn’t have those little black spots you usually get when he chokes you. it’s not breathe play, just a little trick he picked up from hunting people down in broad daylight as a 9 to 5.

you want to moan, scream, whimper, whatever you can do to let him know you’re feeling good. but toji knows. he knows how good he’s giving it to you and that’s exactly why you can’t afford to get caught. you’re 16 floors up in your office building, stuffed into a maintenance closet with nothing in to grab onto but the taught muscular flesh of his forearm as he uses your restrained arms for purchase, pulling you onto his cock with one hand while the other catches any semblance of noise trying to escape from you.

He’s stopping your whimpers at the source with just the press of two fingers, sending them right back down to your lungs where they wait to be let out again.

“Yeah? Feels that good?” He whispers, chuckling fondly when all you can do is nod. It’s more of a rhetorical, he knows how good it feels just from how hard you’re sucking him in.

You don’t even realize how close you are to your orgasm until your arms are released and two calloused fingers move to rub your clit in soft circles, sending you both over the edge in mere seconds.

You let it all go, slumping back against the rock wall that is his chest and thanking the stars above that no one can hear you as you cum all over his cock.

Except, Toji’s hand isn’t on your throat anymore. It’s resting under your ribcage, holding you up as your jelly legs struggle to accommodate your weight. You’re moaning and loud at that, unable to stop yourself without the added help from his grip on your neck.

You never thought you’d say this, but your beyond grateful for the massive warm hand that slaps over your mouth, cutting your sounds of pleasure off and rendering you silent once again.

“Aw c’mon, what’d i tell you about being quiet?” He teases.

[chlopieno]

.

vent ahead, sorry

[thegoogoomuckkk]

the newlyweds -> you thought maybe your husband's insatiable appetite would cool down after the first few days of being married, but if anything, it’s getting worse -> choso kamo, kento nanami, satoru gojo, sukuna ryomen, toji fushiguro

choso's gone this long without having sex, be prepared to make up for lost time. he isn’t super familiar with human procedures & traditions, so it wasn’t necessarily his intent to wait until marriage. he didn’t even really know what sex was until he started dating you, & you didn’t want to push him into something he wasn’t comfortable with. regardless, your first time is on your wedding night. . .& your second time, & third time, & fourth. . .& so on. 

you remember faintly the first time you kissed choso, him saying that he would be happily content to kiss you & kiss you for the rest of his life. & he would’ve been, but he was too far gone know, eyes rolling back, body unable to process the immense pleasure of your cunt wrapped around him. 

his hands gripped your hips with a desperate intensity as he moved within you, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy through your joined bodies. choso's normally composed demeanor had completely unraveled, replaced by raw need & desire.

you ran your fingers through his long dark hair, marveling at how undone he had become. his lips found yours in a searing kiss, muffling the moans that escaped unbidden from both of your throats.

"never," he gasped against your mouth, his voice husky with passion. "never knew. . .never knew it could be like this. didn’t know it was this good."

nanami was not typically a risk taker in any form, especially when it came to his wife, but he couldn’t bear to be away from you that long. his work had not allowed him to take off as much time as he would’ve liked. his first few days back were pure torture. he focused on nothing else but the mental image of your tits bouncing as you rode him, or the way your cunt sucked in his fingers each night before he stuffed you full of his cock, or the sound of your melodious voice begging him, telling how good it was. 

so here he was, bending you over his mahogany desk (the blinds shut of course, he wasn’t that risky) wondering how he ever lived without you, without fucking you. sex had been on his mind so infrequently before you. he stroked himself off maybe once a month, or sometimes when he was drunk. but now, he had a hard time going any significant period of time without being balls deep in your sweet cunt. seeing that wedding ring on your finger, gripping onto the wood of his desk, does not help matters in the slightest. 

nanami's fingers dug into your hips as he thrust into you from behind, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through your bodies. the office was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin & your muffled moans. you bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, though it was a struggle with the way he was pounding into you.

"god, i've missed this," nanami groaned, his voice husky with desire. "missed my wife. your tight little cunt feels so good."

you whimpered in response, pushing back against him, desperate for more. his hand snaked around to rub your clit in tight circles, making your legs tremble.

"that's it, baby," he murmured. "come for me. let me feel you squeeze my cock."

you’re entirely unsurprised by gojo's behavior. you actually don’t think there will come a time when satoru is not desperate for you at all hours of the day. he could be mid-mission, literally killing a curse, & he’ll send some corny text asking for nudes. 

"pls :( need nudes, will die without." you suppress the biggest eye roll.

your eyes are surely rolling, though, when he gets home & shows you what he’s been thinking about all day, what had him so worked up. . .thoughts about his pretty wife & her pretty pussy.

you can't help but smirk as satoru presses you against the wall, his lips hungry on your neck. his hands roam your body with urgent need, like he hasn't touched you in weeks rather than hours; it was only that morning that he’d stuffed his tongue in your cunt before dashing off to a meeting. "missed you," he murmurs between kisses. "couldn't focus all day."

“I couldn’t tell," you tease, recalling his stream of increasingly needy texts. "begging me for nudes didn’t tip me off at all."

he chuckles against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. "can you blame me? look at you."

his hands slide down to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. you can feel how hard he is already, his desire evident through his pants. "someone's excited," you whisper, nipping at his earlobe.

satoru groans, grinding against you. "you have no idea. been thinking about this all day. about you."

he groans, pressing his hips against yours. "those pictures kept me going. but the real thing is so much fucking better."

his fingers find the hem of your shirt, sliding underneath to caress bare skin. you gasp as he cups your breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak.

"satoru," you breathe, melting into his touch despite your earlier exasperation. he’s gotta make it up to his poor wife for leaving her home all day long. 

a week-long getaway to a penthouse with your new husband, suguru, had sounded like a dream, & of course it was, but you feared you weren’t making it out of this vacation without a positive pregnancy test. 

his hands gripped your hips with an intensity that would surely leave bruises, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. every thrust sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body, leaving you gasping and clinging to him desperately. his usual composure was completely shattered, replaced by raw need and desire.

your nails digging into his back as he drove into you relentlessly. his dark eyes were wild with lust, fixed on your flushed face.

"that's it, love," he growled, his voice husky & strained. "take all of me. let me fill you up."

your body trembled, teetering on the edge of bliss. you could feel the heat of his skin, smell his intoxicating scent, hear the low groans rumbling in his chest. it was overwhelming, consuming you entirely. the intensity of his words sent a shiver down your spine. part of you wanted to resist, to remind him of your carefully laid plans—but your body betrayed you, arching into his touch & silently begging for more. his hand slid down to caress your lower abdomen, his touch gentle despite the ferocity of his thrusts. "you'll look so beautiful," he murmured. "glowing, swollen with our baby."

you were pretty sure you’d never experienced exhaustion like this before, & yet you wouldn’t have it any other way. sukuna was practically tethered to you, night & day; you knew he exceeded the stamina of typical men, but this was setting the bar a little too high. he was breaking your poor cunt. 

"‘kuna, I c-can’t, can’t take anymore, s’too much," you’d babble each morning & each night, tears staining your pillow along with your drool, nails tearing into the sheets. you were pretty sure some of the remnants of your mascara from your wedding day still remained somewhere on your eyes, you hadn’t the time for skincare. 

"of course you can, wife. you always take me so well, like you were made for me," he purrs, chest falling over your back, pressing you into the sheets, biting the lobe of your ear, ruining you. & he was such an asshole, calling you wife, as if he cared at all for your silly little human rituals, it was just another way for him to tease you. 

"please," you gasped, not even sure what you were asking for anymore. your mind was foggy, overwhelmed by sensation.

sukuna chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through your body. "such sweet sounds you make for me, wife. I’llnever tire of them." his hand snaked around to grip your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your head swim. you felt him swell inside you, somehow growing even larger. "one more," he growled. "give me one more, & I’ll let you rest."

his chuckle rumbled through you, low & dark, watching your hips draw back & forth to meet his. "see? your body knows what it needs," sukuna murmured, his breath hot against your neck.

his hips snapped forward relentlessly, each thrust sending jolts of pleasure-pain coursing through you. you lost track of time, lost in the sensations, in the feeling of being utterly consumed by him. when you came again, it was with a broken sob, your body trembling uncontrollably beneath him. sukuna growled in satisfaction, his own release following moments later as he buried himself deep inside you.

toji is determined to christen every goddamn inch of your apartment. it’s practically a game to him. 

"no, toji, not on the table, we eat here," you whine, but your attempts at swatting him away as he pushes you over the counter so delicately, humping your ass, groaning into his fist. he hoped there came a point when his wife’s ass didn’t make him whiney & sex-brained like a teenager, but he doubted it. 

"please, baby," he groans, mouthing at your clothed pussy. "let me taste you. I need it."

you can't help but melt at his desperation, your resolve crumbling. with shaky hands, you push your panties to the side. toji lets out a guttural moan at the sight of your glistening folds, diving in eagerly.

his tongue laps at you hungrily, like a man starved. you cry out, gripping the edge of the table for support as your knees threaten to give way. toji's large hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he devours you.

"fuck, you taste so good," he mumbles against your sensitive flesh. "never get enough of you."

married men, weak at the knees for their wife :) did you like it? -> here's my masterlist -> want something more? ask me for it

[nighttimealone]

Cw: Nsfw (141 x fem!reader, live together)

Beside you, Kyle is the first to wake up in the morning. He’ll pad towards the kitchen, enjoying the sight of you making your morning drink silently, before moving to stand right behind you, arms wrapped around your waist as he grinds he bulge lazily against your ass. He just wants to feel your warmth, how nice your soft flesh press against his cock.

“Just want to feel you, baby. It’s so cold out here.” He’ll unabashedly slip his hands under your pajamas shirt, kneading your breasts and tugging at those sensitive buds, forcing you to stop brewing your drink because you might spill the liquid.

Kyle just want to get an orgasm from you, a gift for you two morning birds, he claims before succumbing to sleepiness and tuck himself back under the duvet, fully content with being the first man making you come undone everyday, and sleeps in 5 more minutes.

You know Johnny will drag you into the shower with him whenever he comes back from his morning jog. You chide him before he engulfs you in his embrace, lightheartedly calling him a stinky man and shush him to go shower first.

So his solution is hug you despite your protest, then pull you inside the bathroom together, stripping off your pajamas and his sports wear impatiently before jumping into the shower with you.

“We’re both stinky now, jus’ thought ye might need a shower too.” Johnny grins when you glare at him, shamelessly pretends he’s just ‘looking out for ye’ while his hands traveling across your body, groping and preparing you for his cock with his hard dick prodding at the small of your back. He’ll never hurt you, but as soon as you’re wet enough for his girthy shaft, he’ll pick you up, stretching you deeply and completely with the help of your weight, groans and growls at how good you are, how your precious pussy takes him so good, ignoring Ghost’s noise complaint coming from the other side of the bathroom door as he fucks you fast and feral, making you unable to care about suppressing your moans and cling onto him, let him keep scooping you in his arms and thrust into you till he empty his balls in your good little cunt.

Finally getting Kyle and Johnny pass out from the alcohol, John and Simon manhandle them back to the bedroom before entering the living room again. 00:13, a glance at the clock telling you it’s late in the night, but it’s just the start for the three of you. Retrieving a bottle of fine rum, John seats you between him and Simon, thighs touching with theirs as you all sip on the wine and chat quietly. “The boys will chug the rum like it’s some cheap beer, they can settle with those just fine.” John chuckles lowly and comments on the awful taste and drinking habit of Kyle and Johnny.

“Those bonkers will stick to your side the whole day and complain if they find out, old man.” Simon chimes in after huffing out a laugh at John’s words.

You snicker along with them, feeling fully content and relaxed with squished between two of your lovers, joking about the other two men you loved while the rum flows smoothly down your throat. Soon your composure slips after few nips of the wine, whining cute and groggily as Simon ravish in the kiss with you, tongues dance and tangle with each other in a slow pace, let him drink down all your syrupy moans and coos in rare gentleness, so John can slickens up your pussy with his lips and your juices, making sure you can accommodate their fat cocks later, and you can’t expect or plead him to sink his cock into you already until him and Simon can see your juices dripping down your soaked folds, praying them to fill you up.

The two men will treat you so well, worshipping their dearest girl in the world. Simon’s fingers and lips are always on you when John squeeze his fat tip into your entrance, gliding in and out slowly and heavily, so all those spongy spots of yours that can make you chant his name like a mantra aren’t missed out. When he put a load in you with a husky groan, passing you onto Simon’s lap and let you lean back on his chest, he’ll plant tiny kisses on your shoulder, murmur about how they love you—will protect you and keep you safe and sound—against your skin. Simon allows him to indulge in the heat and tightness of your pussy, grunting and praising you as he fuck John’s cum back inside you, making sure you take each drops of John’s seeds, like the reliable lieutenant he always is for his captain. The base of his length has formed a creamy froth the time he nips down slightly on your shoulder to muffle his moan, drenching your messy cunt with every bit of his release. “Atta girl.” His croon is added with John’s soothing voice “Yeah, been so good for us, princess.”

They both pick up the glass once again to finish the remaining rum, with you already drifting between your slumber and consciousness, listening to their small chatters as your own lullaby. You don’t know when they’ll finish drinking, or if one of them will nestle their cock inside your pussy again, just to feel your walls clenching down subconsciously, but you let yourself slip into a dream, because they’ll take good care of you, always do and always will.

[dcxdpdabbles]

Bruce: Attention, please. I understand a majority of you had plans this weekend. I want to be considerate of your time, so I'll make this brief. Lex Luther has hired a boy to seduce Wayne Enterprise secrets out of Tim. I need you to be weary at the gala. Dismiss.

Tim: Hold on hold on. I'm going to need a LOT more information than just that.

Bruce: I said dismissed Tim. Your siblings have plans.

Dick: *Raises a hand*

Bruce: Yes?

Dick: I can tell this approach is from the parenting books Uncle Clark got you, which is great. Thank you for trying, but we really need more details B. You can be considerate of our time by properly using it.

Bruce: hmmmm. Alright, if everyone feels this way. I suppose I can explain

Batkids: *Nodding*

Bruce clicking on the computer to show a picture: This is Daniel Fenton. His family used to own Fenton Works until the unfortunate loss of Mrs. Madeline Fenton in a car accident. Mr. Jack Fenton was convinced a ghost killed his wife. He was arrested after he crossed state borders chasing it and went on a rampage in downtown Gotham. He was deemed mad with grief and has been in Arkham for the last four years. Neither Jasmine nor Daniel were able to keep the family business afloat and were eventually bought out by Luthor.

Steph: I remember Mr. Fenton. He made that weird ray that was just throwing green goo on people. Besides scarying a few civilians, he didn't do anything bad. No one was harmed.

Bruce: That was the Fenton children argument as well. They were unable to get Mr. Fenton out of Arkham and into a different institution. I fear corruption is at play. During his stay in Arkham Mr.Fenton, has continued to create inventions, though no patent has been filed. All funds from said inventions are being made by local Mafia families instead.

Jason: Those thieves are preying on a grieving man. Rumors has it, Mr. Fenton isn't even aware his wife is dead. His mind blocked it, but he's slowly deteriorating. They're trying to squeeze out every drop of cash they can from him before his mind is completely gone.

Bruce: Exactly, and his children know it. Recently, Clark overheard Luthor offer Daniel a deal. He steals Wayne Enterprise secrets from Tim - probably got the idea after reading the article of Tim coming out, no doubt - and Luthor pulls enough strings to get Mr. Fenton out.

Tim: That's horrible. Is there any way we can help the Fentons instead? Move Mr. Fenton to a different place?

Bruce: I'm working it, but I believe Luthor is blocking my attempts. He did the same to Miss Fenton's college and loan applications. The pair are in a finical crisis that does not seem to get better no matter what they do. Luthor has employed similar tactics before.

Damian: Thus trapping the Fenton siblings in a box, unable to defy Luthor. They may be so desperate they would agree to anything after this many hardships.

Bruce: Exactly.

Tim: Alright I'll sleep with him

Cass: Literally, no one said you needed to sleep with him.

Tim: It's will be tough but I'll take one for the team.

Duke: Tim, that's not what B is saying at all.

Bruce: Wait, wait. I think Tim wants to sleep with Daniel Fenton. Hold on, let me consult the experts *opens parenting book*

Bruce: This isn't covered in the book. I don't know what to do.

Dick: I do. Tim, you're not sleeping with Daniel Fenton, but you are going to pretend his seduction is working. We're going to stop Luthor and the Mafia families controlling Arkham. We need to buy time to do that.

Tim: Kisses and over clothes stuff only. Got it.

Damian: Life has been hard for you since Dowd left you, hasn't it Drake?

[strwberri-milk]

Maybe this is a bit angsty but could I request the LADS men’s (or just Sylus’s) reaction when reader randomly, casually says in a conversation, ‘Well you’re probably not gonna stick around with me in the future anyway’ (so in short, they think they’re temporary).

Zayne's attention snaps to you so quickly you would have thought you told him you're experiencing a cardiac event. He takes a second to process the words, brows furrowing as he asks you why you'd say something like that. His reaction is so visceral you can't help but laugh awkwardly, asking him what he means by that. The confusion tinged with something unreadable and sad hurts his heart, wondering if he hasn't made it clear enough that he's madly in love with you and only you.

He falls silent, pondering your words and his own actions. Has he not been affectionate enough with you? Has he not been obvious enough about how in love he is with you? You start to squirm, usually used to his thoughtful pauses but the tension rising in the air has you suffocating.

Eventually he tells you that you're going to be stuck with him for quite a while because he doesn't intend on giving you up that easily. He cups your face in his hands, telling you that you're the most precious thing to him in the world and he's going to love you until his dying breath, then past that. The confession is quite intense especially since he just looks very intense for the most part so it steals your breath away before Zayne pushes air right back into your lungs with a desperate kiss.

Xavier immediately tells you off, raising a brow as he asks why you think he wouldn't be there in the future. He's spent so many years yearning for your warmth - it seems blasphemous to him not to stay with you until the universe tears you apart and then some. You see the hurt in his eyes immediately, trying to backtrack as he asks you if you really thought he'd leave.

He takes your hands in his gently, taking a palm to cup his cheek as he nuzzles into your warmth, looking up at you with those baby blues that seem to tempt you to fall into them as he repeats the question. Your words are dry in your throat as you look away, his hand coming up to tilt your face back to look at him.

He swears his life to you again, peppering your hand in kisses as he speaks. If you had any doubts about his feelings for you before there's no way you can now, not with the way his voice settles around you. He solidifies his feelings for you, devoting his entire being to you in the quiet space between the two of you.

Rafayel is totally unamused, brushing your comment off as a joke. He fully thinks you're just trying to get under his skin, teasing him because that's the sort of relationship that the two of you have. When you don't respond with your usual enthusiasm he looks at you with a scrutinizing gaze. His lips press together as he starts to realise that you were serious, rolling his eyes as he pulls you against his chest.

He's shaking, thinly veiled anger running through his veins. He isn't really mad at you, but it would be wrong to say that he isn't at the same time. He doesn't understand why you'd think something like that, under the belief that he's made it very clear that he's in love with you and only you. I mean, have you seen him in a room with other people when they aren't you?

His words are soft in your ear, the quietest hint of a threat in them as he asks if you're serious. Nothing about this was temporary, about his feelings for you were fading. They never did and they never could, not even if he fell to his knees and begged for someone to take them from him. He's built on the anger of a dead civilsation and the inability to do anything but love you, telling you that even if you try to leave him he'll just wait until you're ready for him again.

Sylus doesn't even stop what he's doing, chuckling softly at the notion. He thinks you're joking, unable to fathom that you're fully serious in thinking that he won't be sticking around. You feel a little upset at how easily he brushes you off, deciding that you're done for the day as you fall silent. He notices that right away, looking up at you and beckoning for you to crawl into his lap. If you refuse to he'll simply come over and pull you into his lap without question, telling you to repeat yourself.

You repeat the statement, now more unsure of yourself since he's staring at you intently. You can see the slight quirk of his lips, his smirk making your heart beat a little faster as you tell him that whatever the two of you have isn't serious. He laughs at the notion, shaking his head as he cups your face in his hands. He takes in every detail of your face, sighing softly as he buries his face into your neck, peppering kisses as he shakes his head.

He doesn't know what to say, the words all caught in his throat as he holds you. You don't need him to say anything though, the desperate way he clings to your body and his lips muttering the beginnings of words just to abandon them convincing you more with every passing second that he's going to love you until the end of time.

[thanosscross]

HII I REALLY LOVE YOUR WORK SO MUCH, i hope your willing to write about pregnant reader x thanos yk, thanos didn't know she was pregnant before they break up and then they meet up again the games and he finds out player 222 and player 333 type stuff 😭

Of course! We love this!!

Good person - Choi Su- Bong x pregnant! reader

Summary: After leaving Thanos, you encounter him again in a serious death game, only this time the stakes are lot higher

Warnings: Not much, just your usual squid game gore

A/n: Sorry it's so short! I'm going to try and start adding some length to my stories again especially my Thanos stories so stay tuned for those longer stories, trust me they are coming, they're just takin a lil time

You had told yourself whenever you signed up, you'd be as careful as possible, and that it was all for your baby, after leaving their father and being disowned for choosing to be single mother, you were left with little to nothing, so of course you took the chance to get money.

As you woke up in the giant room you soon came to regret your decision, seeing your sperm donor just a few feet in front of you, focused on the screen reading off debts "Y/n L/n, 25 million won" The guard shouted, showing you getting smacked across the face, quickly holding an arm over your stomach afterwards. Almost like he knew, as soon as your name was called out, his head snapped to yours "Senorita! You're here!?" He shouted in shock "No Way!" He shouted as he walked closer, you attempted to curl your body up away from him, but due to the six month pregnancy belly, you could only bend your legs closer to you slightly.

"Please leave, Thanos" You grunted, trying your best to keep him at a distance, for all he knew you had taken a plan B after your last hook up and that was it. Instead he just kept approaching until he was standing in front of you "What're you doing here!?" He asked excited, you just shook your head "trying to get my family and I money after my sorry excuse of a boyfriend convinced me to buy stupid ass crypto?" You said like it was obvious, it wasn't like you were entirely lying, you just didn't specify what family.

Going into red light green light, you were cocky at first, knowing you could do this easy, until the shooting started, players falling left and right, while your baby dad just skipped and danced his way to you down the field "You never answered me, Senorita" He repeated, placing his hands on your hips, terrified of what he might do, especially after watching him shove other players to win "I-I'm pregnant" You blurted, you couldn't help it, between your fear of dying by Thanos or the game was too much, you just wanted to get out of this alive, you didn't think it'd be this serious, if you did, you never would've done this. "Haha" He laughed sarcastically before looking at your face as the doll called out red light, he was in front of you now, and you were visibly shaking, Thanos using his body to try and shield you from the sensors "for real, flower?" He asked, his tone a lot more deep and raspy, you could tell he sobered up quick upon the realization you weren't joking. "I-I forgot the pill after hooked up a few months ago! a-and I left because I knew you couldn't be a responsible dad" You blurted, unable to contain your emotions as the hormones in your body were on overdrive.

Thanos was frozen, staring at you in shock before finally snapping out of it as the doll called green light, he grabbed your arm holding you behind him as he followed the others past the red line "Just stay behind me" He whispered, your words stung, how could you be so sure of how he'd be as a dad if you never gave him a chance? As you made your way back to the giant main room, you took notice to Thanos's hand on your back leading you to the bed "Sit, you don't put yourself through too much" He explained softly, helping you over to your bunks before eyeing Nam-Gyu "Give her your bed, man" he demanded, his friend stuttering before giving up and giving you his bed that was floor level, him taking your third bunk bed. "Thanos" You warned, not wanting him to make it a huge deal "What?! You're huge! You don't need to be climbing!" He shouted before catching his tone, apologizing quietly "Okay, well One, that was very very rude, two, I can do whatever I please, if I feel like I can't do something, I'll tell you" You stated poking him in the chest with your finger, he just smirked at you, biting his bottom lip slightly "Have I ever told you, it's hot whenever you yell at me" he asked, trying his best to charm you, but instead you just flicked his forehead in annoyance "Get away, freak" You replied, he just smiled at you, sitting at the foot of your bunk "So it's my baby?" He asked smiling pointing to your stomach "Well, if not I'd be concerned" You said raising your eyebrows at him "Can I..touch it?.." He asked nervously "it's not an it, it's your daughter" you glared, before grabbing his hand slipping it under your jacket, pressing his finger down in just the right spot to get the small baby inside of you to move around "Woah..weird" He said grimacing as he pulled away in disgust "Really!?" You gasped in shock laughing loudly, somehow forgetting you were in a death game for a moment "Yea! You have a whole human inside of you! That's weird!" He laughed, resting his hand on yours "You put it there, Su-bong!" You argued, you swore sometimes you got with a completely dumbass.

"Y/n..If you'll let me...I wanna be there..I don't want to be like my dad" He frowned, squeezing your hand gently "Please?" He begged "I know I fucked up bad, but, I want to try again, please" He continued, you glared at him for a moment before sighing "How can I trust you? And you'll have to get clean, for real clean, not how you're usually clean" You added on, you just watched as he nodded his head, no faces or complaints "You're actually serious aren't you?..." you asked sweetly "I want to be a good person for you, y/n, please" He whispered, pressing his lips to your knuckles "I guess..but you only get one chance" You offered, he just nodded before flopping himself next to you "Thank you!" He cheered pressing multiple kisses all over your face as he chanted his thank you's, not realizing the next 18-19 years were going to be hell for the both of you.

The rest of the games, Thanos was always on you, making sure you didn't over do yourself or risk hurting yourself or your baby, charming you right back into his arms.

--

Taglist!!

@acehasmyheart

@corrdelia

@ag022123

[reignpage]

Equal Rights, Equal Fights

Summary: in which your boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, lets himself get struck by a gender-bending curse Word Count: 2.3k Warnings: fem!reader, lesbian sex, gender bend, porn with little plot, thigh humping, cunnilingus, fingering, scissoring, dirty talk, choking, slight rimming, all over the place pronouns, not proofread

“It’s pretty crazy, isn’t it?” Satoru remarks with a shit-eating grin. “Although, I always knew I’d make a hot chick.”

Your boyfriend returned from a mission as a woman. Something about a curse with the ability to alter the appearance of its victim for an hour or two, which apparently, intrigued him enough to let down his guard, literally, and allow himself to be struck. 

Now, before you, is a tall, skinny, but curvaceous, young woman with long, white hair. She’s drowning in Satoru’s clothes, zipper dangerously low on her chest, revealing the smooth curves of her cleavage. Wearing his blindfold, she admires herself in the bathroom mirror whilst you look on from behind in what can only be described as horror. 

“How are you so calm about this, Satoru?”

She, or he, or what fucking ever, winks at you through the reflection and cups her ample breasts. Then, with a sultry tone, replies, “I’ve already accepted my fate. So, instead of being all sad and scared, why don’t we make the most of it, sweetie?”

Judging by the words alone, you’re sure it’s him — no one else in the world could manage to be as infuriating. But the voice is so womanly, much higher than his normal pitch, smoother, and it’s throwing you for a loop. 

Satoru spins around, hair whipping with her movement. You can tell she’s serious, or he, and fuck this is confusing. She is serious. You can tell her from the mischievous glinting in her eyes and the way she’s raking down your figure, stopping at your chest to size up your tits in comparison to hers. 

Even in a situation like this, he just has to compete.

“Satoru, you need to go to Shoko,” is all you can push out. 

In a flash, she’s pinning you to the wall, breasts squished against yours and her leg trapped shoved between your thighs. She cages you within her arms, fingers tracing your jaw, travelling down your neck. When you gulp, Satoru huffs in victory, thoroughly amused by your body’s reaction.

Her fingers remain just as long as his normal ones, but his nails are even longer and sharper. They scrape against your skin, pressing just hard enough for you to hold your breath as you both watch him descend down your chest until she reaches the neckline of your shirt. 

“Let’s have some instead, hmm?”

You try to push her away, but your fists only land on her bouncy breasts instead of his hard pecs. Through her uniform, you can feel her pebbled nipples poking. Satoru gasps. Unable to help yourself, you unfurl your fists and bury your fingers within her tits, the weight leaving you both breathless. 

In retaliation, you’re sure, she hikes that leg up between yours, plumper thighs pressing against your clothed pussy. You moan, “Satoru!”

She crashes her lips against yours. 

You can taste your lipgloss; he must have gone through your makeup bag before waking you up. It’s sweet and sticky and neither of you can get enough as you stick your tongue in, meeting his in a sloppy kiss. Her tits press in harder as she arches closer, leg grinding against your moistening pussy. 

“Knew you’d cave,” he taunts.

Satoru, in any and all forms, will always be a little shit. He’ll always push the limits, get on your nerves, and he’ll do it all with an innocent smile. That realisation might be the only thing softening the blow when you realise, you’re actually just as curious and enthusiastic about this little experience. 

Because no matter how infuriating he is, he will always be your Satoru. And you can’t deny him, can’t resist his charm, no matter how hard you try. Even when you desperately don’t want him to win. 

And how can you resist him now?

When he still looks just as otherworldly, just as majestic, and jaw-dropping as a woman. And he looks even better than you. 

But he kisses the same. With so much love, so much reverence, and obsession, you almost forget what’s happened. Almost. Since there’s no way you can ignore that sickly sweet scent of a woman. Gone is all the roughness and instead it’s replaced by that warmth, that nurturing softness you melt into. 

She squeals when you shove your leg between hers too. Whilst you grind on hers, Satoru humps you, pussy juices seeping through your clothes, leaving a steamy trail on your bare skin and on her thin pants. 

“Do I feel better, baby?” He asks. “Is it better when I’m a girl? Do you like me like this, hmm? All -ngh- soft and womanly?”

“Shut up, Satoru.”

You tear off her jacket, throwing it somewhere behind her before you pull down her vest, stretching the material until it tucks itself under her tits. They’re so heavy, so intoxicatingly smooth you squeeze them under your palms. You suck at a throbbing nipple, eyes rolling back at Satoru’s whimper. 

“Oh, fuck, baby! You sucking my tit? You like sucking on mommy’s tits, baby?”

Her fingers tug at your hair, simultaneously trying to pull you off and keep you there, like she wishes she could bury you between her breasts. You have no idea where that mommy thing comes from and you make a mental note to make fun of him for it later, but right now, the term is actually making you wetter. 

Tongue swirling around her nipple, you use the same technique as you would with the tip of his cock, sucking in pulses. You flick it and rolls the bud between your teeth hard enough to make her hips stutter. 

You’re still churning your hips against her thigh, panties soaked through and making a mess of her pants. She, in turn, is grinding on yours. The both of you are chasing your high, feeling yourselves get closer to an orgasm, and you can’t muster the energy to ponder about how weird this entire thing is. You can only think about how delicious she smells and how addictive her softness feels. 

“Yes! Yes, Satoru,” you groan around her nipple, bruising her hips with your needy hands.

She’s bucking wildly, holding you tight as she spasms. Though your orgasm was just as good, it’s clear Satoru is being driven an extra mile of wild — he must be going insane from the unique feel of a woman’s orgasm. She grinds her clit harder. 

“Oh my god!” She moans. “Fuck, baby! It’s so good, it’s so fucking good.”

Kissing up her neck, you hold her as she slumps down. Unable to restrain yourself, you tease right in her ear, “Knew you wouldn’t be able to handle a woman’s body.”

That seems to rejuvenate him because he’s using his height to tower over you once more, tits jiggling right in front of your face.

“Oh, but I handle yours every night well enough, don’t I?”

You shrug. “Eh, you’re alright.”

Satoru spins you around, pushing you to sit on top of the toilet lid. She sinks onto her knees, pulling your panties off right before diving forward. Her tongue glides through your sloppy pussy, licking a stripe from your quivering hole to your clit, circling there once and twice before lowering again. 

“Satoru! Don’t stop,” you beg, hands holding your thighs up so you can get a perfect view of her long lashes fluttering as her own eyes roll back. She’s taking off her own clothes with expert hands, multitasking whilst she ravages your cunt, pushing that devilishly long tongue inside your wet hole. 

You’re writhing and clawing at the walls, knocking the toilet roll off its handle. 

When she inches her fingers inside, your hips jolt. They’re slightly thinner than his normal fingers but they’re still stretching you out as she feels the grooves inside your pulsing walls. 

Laughing, Satoru remarks, “I’m just as tight as you, baby. But you’re warmer inside.”

You look down and the sight makes you squeeze out even more cream onto his fingers. Your boyfriend, in his female form, is shoving his fingers inside his own sloppy pussy in time with the fingers he’s got inside of you. His slender arm is pushing her tits closer, make the fat bulge and bounce with every thrust. 

Bunching up her hair, you pull him in closer, urging his dirty mouth to suck your clit. Drool is dripping down your chin as he continues to pummel his fingers inside your cunt, curling them in to tease at that spongy spot inside. 

“Oh! Ngh!” Satoru whimpers. “Is that what you feel when I do that?”

The squelches filling the room are coming from both of you. It’s a filthy symphony and you’re heaving, hips rising to chase his mouth. Sweat is drenching your body and the feel of him licking up that bead of condensation falling down your thigh just as his thumb circles your clit is what pushes you over the edge. 

You cum with a scream, soaking her face with your release which she eagerly laps up, dipping low to your ass to chase any errant trails of wetness, tracing the puckered hole. Desperately inhaling air, your head falls back onto the water tank, the ceramic cooling you enough to bring back your consciousness. 

“That’s it. Go on, baby. Cum for me,” she urges. “Looks so -ngh- pretty. Prettier than me. Always so beautiful.”

Satoru is still frantically shoving her fingers inside like she can’t get enough of the euphoria stimulating her g-spot is bringing. You reach your hands out, one to clutch at her throat, squeezing hard enough to make her gasp, and the other pinches and pulls at her nipple, slipping in the sweat coating his skin.

“Shit! I’m cumming. Oh no, fuck! It’s too much.”

She cums too, juices splattering all over the tiles. Her back arches, mouth agape and eyes rolled back. Strands of hair are sticking to her clammy skin, and her sticky spare hand is gripping your wrist, smearing your own wetness all over your skin. 

It’s as gorgeous a sight as his normal cumming face. 

“I c-can’t…fuck!” She heaves, bottom lip quivering right before her head falls forward, face planting right into your pussy. Satoru takes a deep inhale before he kisses your clit like he would with your lips or your cheeks. “Love this pussy, love you so so much.”

He’s muttering sweet nothings right in your hole the same way he does after a hard cum. Even as the most badass looking woman, he’s still your pathetic little boyfriend, always so in love and unafraid to show it. 

“Accept defeat, Satoru,” you whisper as you brush his hair back. “Two orgasms from your pussy are too much for a man to handle.”

Your boyfriend, bless his competitive little heart, lifts his head and forces his blurry vision to clear up enough for him to fix you with a firm glare. He grips your ankles, stands up, and scoots you back. There isn’t enough space on the toilet, but he forces you both to balance anyways. 

Tossing a leg over yours, he declares, “I can handle another one. You can too. So, hold tight baby, we’re going until there’s a dick between my legs and inside yours.”

Then, he’s mashing his wet cunt against your pulsing pussy. 

“Oh my god,” you whimper again. 

Satoru has craziness written all over his face, a furious need sparkling in his pretty blue eyes as he pummels his pussy again and again against yours. His hard clit meets yours and jolts of electricity climb up your spine, back arching with a howl. 

Sweat and pussy juice is flying everywhere with the force of her thrusts. Your body is on fire, nerves alight as you lie helplessly beneath her, head thrown back. You can only take what she’s giving you, unable to fight off that fury in her hips as she grinds your clits together, mixing your sticky juices until it’s pooling beneath your asses.

His perfect blue eyes can’t decide where to look at. Whether to watch the way your tits bounce like his, or at your pleasured face, tongue out and drool coating your lips and chin whilst your eyes rolls back, or at your sloppy pussy, shiny with your combined mess. 

Your fingers dig into her tits, groping the flesh there before you sit up and take a nipple into your mouth. Even as a man, his nipples were his weakness, and when you swipe the tip of your tongue against the slit, her thrusts suddenly become shorter and faster until they lose all rhythm. 

Together, you howl. Your moans are broken and ragged, muscles jelly as you meet her sloppy thrusts with equally crazed ones. 

“Yes! Yes!” Satoru screams. “So good, baby. Fuck! Your pussy’s the best. Ha! I love you so much. My best girl, my favourite girl.”

“Oh god, Satoru!”

Hips still stuttering and slapping against each other, you ride out your orgasms, breaths raspy as you drench the seat with your mixing fluids, steam fogging the window. Satoru’s lips descend on yours, sucking up your dying moans and holding you close. 

Eventually, you part, limbs tangled up and eyes threatening to close. 

You fall forward into his neck, but you don’t get any rest because he’s slapping your face awake with gentle pats. You look up at him through bleary eyes. 

Gone is long hair and so is his blindfold, now you realise. His features have hardened again, jaw much sharper and cheeks less plump, but still just as flushed. And when your hand seeks out his chest, you’re a little disappointed to find only solid muscle. But you aren’t as disappointed to feel something long, thick and incredibly hard throbbing against your stomach. 

“Three orgasms from female me. Three orgasms from original me. After, you tell me which is better, okay?”

Always so competitive, always so annoying. 

[miupow]

★ ── OTHER THAN THE BED... ? ⸝⸝ [ HYUNG LINE ]

skz hyung line and their favorite places to fuck ! ♡

[ ⟡ ] ── NSFW, MDNI! ⭑ fem!reader, dom!skz, mirror sex, couch sex, riding, doggy, light primal play, talk of exhibitionism, name calling, spanking, wall sex, degradation, manhandling, possessive behavior

੭ ⭑ 𓂃⠀⠀⠀⠀[ 0.7k ] ⭑ [ m. list ] ⭑ [ reblogs and feedback appreciated! ]

⟡ 방찬 BANG CHAN -> bathroom mirror.

chan grabbed a fistful of your hair, tugged hard so you lift your head to face him-- or rather, the mirror in front of you. he had you bent obscenely over the bathroom sink, fat cock pistoning in and out of your dripping cunt from behind, his thrusts so hard and deep that the sink digs painfully into your hips and you keep narrowly missing hitting the mirror with your forehead. "look at you~" he cooed so sugary sweet, nasty and condescending, the smacking of skin and the wet squelches from your cunt nearly drowning out his voice, echoing against the bathroom tile. "look so pretty like this, babygirl." you hardly recognized the person that stared back at you in the mirror; your mouth hung open, unable to contain your moans and shrill cries of pleasure, drool leaving your chin spit-slick and shiny. your eyes were blown out, dazed and unfocused and utterly debauched. you wanted to avert your eyes, but chan wouldn't let you look away. you can see his handsome, sweaty face and his pretty smirk behind you in the mirror, his tanned skin pink and his hair sticking to his forehead. "go ahead, pretty girl, tell me what you see."

⟡ 민호 MINHO -> the floor.

"such a tight fucking pussy, so good for me--" minho rasped, panting like a dog; the pace of his hips made you throw your head back and wail, his pretty cock hitting so deep inside you were seeing stars. you had been being a brat all night, pushed minho's buttons until he snapped and put you back in your place-- he had pushed you down onto the living room floor and mounted you right there like some kind of animal, held you in place with his long fingers pressing blooming purple and pink bruises to your hips and neck. "gonna make me cum soon, fuck baby... gonna let me cum inside? let me fill you up?" your knees burned from the carpet but you couldn't find it in you to care, not when minho was fucking you this good. he goes faster, harder, enamored with the way your ass jiggled fom his thrusts, the way your moans only got higher, more pathetic and whiny. he slapped your ass, hard, and snickered to himself as you choked on your scream. "you like it when i fuck you like this, huh? whore. right here where anyone could see you? see how good i give it to you? fuck, my girl's such a nasty slut."

⟡ 창빈 CHANGBIN -> the wall.

"who's pussy is this?" changbin growled into your ear, calloused hands folding you in half as he pounded you against the wall. "hm? who's pussy does this belong to? since you don't seem to fuckin' remember." your legs swung uselessly over his shoulders, bin's white-knuckle grip pressing your knees up against your chest-- his thick fat cock hit all of the right spots, kissed your cervix with every rough thrust, filled you up so deliciously you were rendered completely speechless.. "i-i'm sorry!" you warbled, scratching uselessly at his bulging biceps, unable to say much else with his thick fingers sliding down your thigh to rub tight circles against your swollen, aching clit. you could hardly focus, greedily drinking in eyefulls of changbin's big arms as he flexed to keep you firm against the wall. "it's yours! i'm yours!" "damned right," he grunted, huffing breath unsteady, his thrusts growing slick and sloppy as he neared his climax. "fuck yeah, you're mine, all mine."

⟡ 현진 HYUNJIN -> the couch.

"i just want to cuddle, baby," he had sworn with a smile, patting his lap so invitingly and beckoning you to come sit, but you knew he was lying straight through his teeth-- in no time at all hyunjin had you stripped naked and bouncing up and down on his cock, helping you set the pace with his hands gripping tight on your ass, alternating between squeezing and slapping the flesh, his evil grin widening with every whimper and gasp he managed to get out of you. his big long cock was so deep it made your head spin; you could feel him in your tummy, his hips meeting yours with deafening smacks... "jinnie, jinnie, i'm gonna cum!" you squealed, your nails digging crescents into hyunjin's shoulders; he just bounced you harder, fucked you deeper, threw his head back against the couch cushions when your wet gummy walls spasm and flutter around his shaft. "shit, baby, gonna cum for me? gonna make a mess?" he goaded eagerly, lopsided grin and unfocused eyes making your pussy clench hard around him. "go ahead baby, cum on my cock~"