#and then i put my hands behind my head and lean forward so that when my knees kick up i tap them with my elbow

[ink-n-shadow]

Thinkin’ about Price, who’s on med leave and under strict orders not to engage in any strenuous activity, begging his controversially young wife to take pity on an old man and fuck him.

Your daughter is born nine months later. You like to joke she exists bc your husband was actually home long enough to put a baby in you.

NOW YOU GOT ME THINKIN ANON—

[ MEDICAL LEAVE ] 𝜗𝜚 the one where john's finally home long enough to get you pregnant

𝜗𝜚 pairing: john price x younger wife!reader (reader is afab) 𝜗𝜚 cw: smut (minors—DNI), age gap (price is in his late 30s, reader is late 20s), mentions of surgery/recovery, john having a pain kink (need i say more?), unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it/get tapped), unedited as usual, bad ending

"john, the doctor had strict orders for you to—"

you're cut off mid-rant by john slotting his lips over yours, the mitts of his hands covering your cheeks and tugging your face closer to his. his tongue juts out to lick needily at the seam of your lips, the faint taste of the painkillers he had just taken still fresh on his tastebuds only to be replaced by the sweet mint of your toothpaste.

john would've kept kissing you, too, if he hadn't tried to twist his hips over to face you, making him pull away sharply and hiss out at the way the fresh sutures etched in his ribs twinged in pain.

"john—"

"m'fine," john grunts out hoarsely as he lays back down flat on his back, eyebrows pinched low in the middle of his forehead and tongue licking at the remnants of your spit on his lips. "just wanna—christ—wanna be inside ya."

and that’s how you got to your current position, sitting directly behind john’s thick and leaking cock as you lean back to rest your hands on his hairy muscled thighs—anywhere that wasn’t sutured closed or bruised from the surgery he’d undergone. from beneath furrowed brows, your soft eyes focused on the molten heat buoying in his pupils.

“i don’t wanna accidentally hurt you, john,” the end of your sentence comes out pinched in a whine as the calloused pad of his thumb begins circling your sopping clit, your hips jumping at the stimulation and instinctively rolling forward against his sensitive cock.

john uses the thumb petting at your clit to distract you from the way he manhandles you up, notching the head of his cock between your folds and holding you there for a moment. “i don’t fuckin’ care if it hurts, ‘lright? don’t wan’ you stoppin’ until i feel you cummin’ ‘round my cock four times, and i fill up this pretty fuckin’ pussy—understand me?”

and even though john’s cemented into your shared bed on his back, he keeps you all nice and obedient under his thumb, using the hand he keeps groping at your hip as a way to guide the way your movements. every so often, his sutures would twinge in just a way to send a jolt of pain up his spine—but then he would feel your gummy walls gripping his cock just a little tighter, and the pain would warp into delicious pleasure.

you, ever the good little wife you were, did exactly as john told you—only pulling off of him when your fluids were a messy mixture between my thighs and you could barely walk to the bathroom on wobbly legs.

it didn’t even cross your mind when a month and a half later, you’re a mess of hormones and continuous morning sickness that threatens to knock you out from work for a couple days. john tells you it’s fine, that he’ll work some more late nights to cover your income for a couple days, but you’re determined to keep working.

only after nearly fainting at your home one morning (after john fucked you through at least 2 orgasms) did you find yourself on the doctor’s examination table, fingers nearly snapping john’s hand bones in half when he read off the positive pregnancy result.

and when your daughter is born nine months later (december 14th, by the way—a sagittarius baby), you’re curled up in the hospital bed with john holding you closely, the baby sandwiched comfortably between you two and grappling at one of his thick fingers.

“y’know how long i’ve been waiting for this?” you giggle out softly as you nose against john’s beared jaw, eyes fluttering closed and system overflowing with painkillers and endorphins. “guess you were finally home long enough to actually put a baby in me this time.”

[grapefives]

im in love w how u wrote for hoshina.... can i ask for more please 🙏🙏 any fluff or teasing (him) would be ok i just binged kn8 and fell for him 😩 ( also male reader rise up bc this man makes ME rise up i get cuteness aggression w him sb)

HIGH, HIGH | OS

hoshina x gn!reader (platoon leader reader!)

fluff + teasing + cuteness aggression + light mentions of injuries

a/n: (IMPLIED MALE READER) stop, i feel the same way. i just wanna east him up

your eyes won’t stop looking at those narrowed eyes, the ends of his bangs falling softly over them and casting a pretty shadow. you trail down to his cute nose, then to his lightly puckered lips. you smile, biting it back when you sense his narrowed gaze flitting towards you.

“y/n.” hoshina says sternly.

“yes?” you ask, returning your gaze to the belt you have yet to fasten around your waist.

damn him, he always catches your gaze before you look at the best parts.

“nothing,” he says, and he turns around to look around for his swords.

he can’t hide from you. you know your fiancé too well. you catch the redness in his ears as he gives his back to you. you eyes down at his waist, smiling at the empty slits on the back of his belt. you take the swords you had sneaked out of them and trudge up to him. he’s murmuring softly to himself as he looks around.

“-swear i never take them out-“ he says before pausing.

you put the swords back in their rightful spot before placing both your hands on his waist, a bit above the belt hanging around him. he’s not exactly frozen in place, but pausing with anticipation. you only smile, leaning your whole weight from behind to press him forward a bit…only to place a kiss on the shell of his ear.

he shivers before smacking your arm when you quickly step away with a cackle.

he glares at the back of your head as you walk out of the office, saying something about finding out the commander over an inquiry. he knows your lying, to an extent at least. he makes sure he has everything on him before walking out, he has to watch the officers practice and go through their training.

“hoshina?” a voice asks in his in ear.

“yes captain?” he asks, his boots thumping the polished floors as he walks down the corridor.

he listens in to her concerns and to her comments. his day goes on like that, he doesn’t see much of you throughout the day, it’s always like that. he’s immersed in office work while you’re more immersed in hands on, physical work. his mind sometimes goes back to how you two met, that mission that made his heart skip a beat around you.

where you had to drive the team out. where you kept scaring the living shit out of everyone with your recklessness. where you kept getting scolded and had the audacity to drag him into it. where you had smiled at him and winked when he glared at you.

“boom!” you open the door to his office with a loud exclamation.

“how’d the mission go?” he asks, yet doesn’t look up at you.

“well sweetheart, grant me a pretty smile and i’ll let you know.”

he rolls his eyes before looking up at you. the papers in his hands go slack but he remains calm. “you’re hurt?”

you flash a grin at him. “i miss those days when you’d drop everything and run up to me to check where i’m hurt.” you sigh out nostalgically.

he rolls his eyes, “after years with you, sweetheart, i’m used to the sight of you injured.”

“eh? hoshina from yesterday wouldn’t have said that.”

he looks back up at you, “what are you talking about?”

“yesterday you ran up to me and kissed me.”

“yesterday you went radio silent mid fight.”

he tries to glare you down but your eyes are soft, and your lips wear a small smile. you’re looking at him so tenderly he almost melts. he sighs and stands up. he melts.

“come here you baby.” you say with wide arms.

“how about you come here?” he huffs.

“because i’m in so much pain!” you yell and drop dead to the floor.

“ah, honey, you’ll get my floors dirty.” he squats down next to you, eyeing your face as you grin up at him.

“just me?” you grin teasingly.

his eyes widen before falling back narrowed. he lightly pushes your face away in an act of annoyance. you turn your face back to him and as fast as he normally is, with you, he’s always slow. before he knows it he’s tackled to the floor.

“ah- y/n! aren’t you in pain?” he looks up at you, a smile on his lips.

“yeah, my knee just popped back in place i think.”

“eh-?” he frowns. he tries to look at your frame but your caging him underneath your body.

you smile smugly at him, a hand grazing over the side of his ribs. “see, i got stabbed here, with one of the kaiju’s spikes.” you trail your hand down to his knee, voice softening and lowering, “i got thrown across the street and dislocated my knee trying to hop off a platform to run up to it.”

he stares up at you, listening to your storytelling. he knows what you’re doing and as much as he hates it, he loves how his heart still races at your warm touch.

“then, i had to duck and i think i sprained my hamstrings,” your hand moves lower down his thigh and his breathing gets slightly shallow-

“a-am i interrupting?” okonogi asks at the door.

hoshina gasps, trying to shove you away. you laugh and pat his thigh before getting off of him.

“no dear, we were just talking.” you smile up at her.

“o-on the floor?”

you nod, smiling wickedly at the flush on hoshina’s cheeks. “i was telling the vice captain how the mission went.”

“oh! i brought the reports about it actually, since you asked for them,” she says, forgetting what she saw to hand you the folder.

you sit criss crossed and thank her. “well dear,” you say to hoshina, tapping his head with the folder as you easily get up from that sitting position, “you should get back to work, i was only here to see you and you attacked me.”

“eh?” okonogi tilts her head.

“ah, how bad of me to want to inspect your injuries, honey.” he grits.

“you can inspect all you want,” you grin, pulling him up to his feet.

“hope you get better platoon leader y/n!” okonogi says cheerfully, “good to see you vice captain,” she bows respectfully before leaving.

you watch her leave and close the door. you look away for a second before smiling, moving your sight to hoshina who’s glaring you down. ah, how cute! he’s so cute when he’s all grouchy! only you get the worst out of him.

“yah!” he yells as your hug him and bite down on his cheek. “GET OFF!”

“BUT YOU’RE SO CUTE, BABY! WHY SO POUTY?” you ask as you grab his face, folder long forgotten and on the floor now.

“because you always interrupt my work-“ he frowns as you squish his face. your grip is strong and he glares at you.

“how can i not when i love you so much?” you grin before kissing his entire face as he grunts. ah, you just wanna eat him up!

“i love you too- DON’T BITE ME!” he screams and you cackle.

[kingkat12]

quickie (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, piv sex, party sex, semi-public sex, established relationship, drunk-ish sex, Roman is shameless and drunk lol, alcohol mentions

summary: Roman can't keep his hands off you-- no matter where you are.

word count: 1,581

It was hard to fight Roman’s grip around me, especially since he towered heads above me— I knew it was a lost cause. 

However, I was pissed. Pissed about how he had behaved at tonight's party, and how he had managed to get so drunk that he was grabbing at me at every opportunity. “Rome,” I huffed, putting my hands on his chest to force some space between us after he had managed to get us both into the bathroom.

Roman, drunk off his ass, did his best to keep his balance. He swayed a little, looking down at me with those hungry eyes I knew too well; “What? I can’t touch my girl?”

“Not here!” When I was sure he wouldn’t fall onto the bathroom floor, I quickly ran over to the door to lock it properly. “We’re at Letha’s birthday party, can’t you keep yourself together?” Amid my annoyance, I scanned him; all dressed up in his white shirt, hair gelled back into a classic heartbreaker look. I couldn't deny it all made my heart beat faster.

Hiccuping, Roman blinked twice— he clearly saw no issue with having sex at his cousin’s party. “Why should I?” He stepped towards me, watching me press myself up against the door. “We haven’t been alone all week… Isn’t this just the perfect opportunity?”

I struggled to hold back a shiver. It was tempting, sure, but completely inappropriate. “I’m not having sex with you in a bathroom,” I mumbled, no longer meeting his strikingly green gaze. “Makes me feel cheap.”

“Cheap?” Roman’s arms snaked around me once more, his soft lips pressing a kiss to my temple. “You’re looking at it all wrong.”

I did my best to phase out the strong smell of brandy coming from my boyfriend— I wasn’t exactly the biggest fan of him when he was drunk. “And how am I supposed to look at it, then?”

He hummed against my skin, his fingers tracing circles into the back of my short, red dress. “Think of it more like… I can’t wait another second to be with you,” Roman placed a kiss against my cheek, drawing forth a pink-ish blush. “I want to feel you around me despite where we are, isn't that a nice thought? I would want you even if we were at a fucking trash compound.”

I could only laugh— he probably didn’t catch how big of a turn-off that image actually was, especially in his drunk state. “That sounds unsanitary,”

Roman chuckled, leaving behind a wet mark against my jaw after kissing me there. I closed my eyes, letting my head loll back against the door as I relished in the feeling; I had certainly missed this. 

“I don’t care,” he eventually said, one hand trailing up to twist itself in the nape of my hair. With another tug, evoking a whimper, Roman kissed his way up to my ear, leaving me heaving for air— it reminded me that he could leave me breathless, no matter the situation. 

I had to swallow my pride, realizing that his little scheme was working. “Someone could— hear,” Unexpectedly, my hips bucked forward in the middle of my sentence as Roman pressed a ridiculously soft kiss against my ear. My hands gripped his shirt, panting. “And you’re— you’re drunk!”

Roman hummed, a sinister, low laugh escaping him. “Let…” His hands dropped, fingers dipping past the edge of my dress as he slowly pulled it up along my thighs. I shuddered, bringing his face into my hands as I watched his green eyes sparkle with lust. “Me…” The dress was now at my waist, Roman’s eyes hungry scouring my underwear. He didn’t spend a lot of time looking (he had always been more of a do-er, anyways) before he leaned forward, pressing a kiss against my lower abdomen. My breath hitched as Roman bunched up my dress, digging his long digits into my waist as he licked a stripe up to my navel, listening to my whimpers as he held me back from squirming. “Fuck…” He came up shortly after, a satisfied smirk on display across his full lips as he pressed me flush against him, connecting us with a passionate, fiery kiss. As he pulled away, I realized how dizzy I was— and I was about to beg him to do it again, until he slowly turned me around to face the door. My eyes were wide as Roman’s last words were whispered against my ear; “… You.”

At this point, I was practically gelatin in his arms. I could only nod, struggling to breathe as Roman kissed down my exposed neck, now grinding the hardness of his cock up against my ass with a relieved sigh. “Is that a yes?” he whispered, gently driving his teeth into my shoulder.

I whimpered— I couldn’t fight it anymore. “Yeah,” 

“Oh, thank God,” Roman’s grip around me tightened, proceeding to press passionate nips and bites up my neck. “I’ve wanted you all night… All fucking night.”

I had to suppress the urge to roll my eyes. “Don’t remind me,”

Roman laughed, his hands taking in the softness of my skin against his rough ones before they traveled further down. “Now, now... Don’t get all sassy on me,” 

My eyes sprung wide open as his hands ghosted over my underwear, and I let out a wanton moan as his fingers brushed over my clit. “Sorry,” I tried, my apology quickly turning into a trail of profanities as he used two fingers to press down against me, rubbing me through my underwear as I leaned my forehead against the door in defeat. “Shit, shit—” 

Roman hummed into my shoulder, clearly happy with the results of his plot. “So, my girl likes to be touched now, hm?”

Fucker— he knew damn well. 

“Does she?” he teased, his tone only fueling the fire in my body. 

I could barely reply; my mind was dulled down by the feeling of Roman’s fingers rubbing tight, firm circles against my clit. 

He smirked, pressing several kisses against my shoulder. “Yes, she does,” 

Oh, Roman and his dirty mouth— I couldn’t take it. “We— We can’t be in here for too long,” I tried, panting into the wood of the door. “People will get, hah—suspicious.”

Thankfully, my boyfriend seemed to agree. “We’ll make it quick, then,” Roman wasted no time, a whine escaping my lips as his hands deserted the aching need between my legs. He hooked his fingers around my underwear, dragging it down and leaving it around my thighs before he reached for his zipper. 

“This is so stupid,” I mumbled, trying to catch my breath in the meantime. “I can’t believe we’re doing this—” My words came to a halt as Roman’s thick cock eased into me, and I let out a choked moan as I tried to support myself with the door. All my morals suddenly flew out the window; this felt too good to fight.

Roman suppressed his sigh of relief against my shoulder, quickly recovering from the wave of pleasure upon entering me. “Come again?” he teased, digging his fingers into my hips as he slowly stroked further into me with each thrust. 

My breath hitched, holding back a cry of rapture as I moved to meet every pump of his cock—I couldn’t believe how much I had missed this. “Rome,” I cried, placing one hand over his. “A-Aah—”

“Shh,” Roman pressed soft kisses against my neck, bucking into me. “Not so loud, baby… Wouldn’t want anyone to hear, would we?”

Crap— I had to force myself to be aware of my surroundings. It suddenly hit me that we were fucking in Letha’s bathroom, and how we definitely didn’t want to be caught in here; no one would ever let me live that down. So I bit down on my bottom lip, letting my lids fall heavy over my eyes as Roman’s cock stroked into me, the angle allowing him to brush against my sweet spot over and over.

It didn’t take long before I started to feel on the brink of delirium—it certainly didn’t help my state when Roman reached around my body, rubbing my clit with the rhythm of his thrusts. I couldn’t help but turn a bit, reaching forward to tug his brown hair, a satisfaction building deep inside of me as I heard him suppress a moan against my shoulder. 

It didn’t take long before Roman’s lips came crashing against mine in a passionate kiss, which soon enough ended up with the both of us panting against one another, chasing our highs. 

“You feel—Fuck, you feel so, so—” Roman let out a grunt as my walls clenched around him, his green eyes rolling back just slightly. 

The sight of that alone nearly sent me over the edge, but it was the sweet kiss he pressed against my temples that did it for me. That, along with the continuous thrusts of Roman’s cock and the firm circles against my clit, made me cry out against the door. 

The physical motions of my orgasm gripped around Roman’s girth, drawing forth a moan as he spilled into me, the warmth of his cum almost instantaneously seeping out of me. 

As our panting filled the room, it dawned on me that I had done the exact opposite of what I had told myself tonight. With that realization, I couldn’t help but break our moment of rapture with a giggle—“We’re so doing this again,” 

Roman smiled as he leaned down, leaving a trail of eager kisses along my shoulder; “We so are,”

[amywritesthings]

Hii Amy

Can I request when they instinctively put a protective arm out to protect the other when an actor tries to jump out and scare them with Levi for Hallo-sleepover?

It's so Levi coded 😁

hallo-sleepover '24! / accepting.

HEY LOVELY! I am obsessed with this idea and totally agree. Let me spin you a 'lil story this Friday. (Thank you for sending in!) word count: 661 (ha almost 666) warnings: fluffy, silly new relationship stuff, mentions of costume gore and halloween-centric themes

"I don't get it."

"Get what."

"This."

Following the sweeping gesture of Levi's arm, your eyes fall upon the dilapidated facade of a haunted house. Covered in cobwebs and lit with foreboding red lighting, it's the perfect set-up for a nightmarish scare.

An automated group of screams mixes with the genuine screams of others guests at this Halloween event, causing an uneasy layer of anticipation for what terror lay before you both.

(Totally not nerve-wracking at all.)

There's only about twenty people in front of you before it's your turn to walk through the fog, and admittedly? You're nervous.

While you're not a total scaredy cat, this is technically your first haunt event with your new boyfriend. You enjoy getting scared during the Halloween season, but Levi?

Levi's frown deepens with every loop of the pre-programmed spooky soundtrack.

He doesn't even flinch when the strobe lights flash in lieu of a lightning strike.

Either he's very unimpressed or scared shitless.

(You're leaning towards the first option.)

"It's supposed to be fun," you try to explain as you take another few steps forward when the party ahead moves up.

His eyes narrow when a scare actor walks past, surveying the outdoor line to hype up the crowd. The employee's face is unrecognizable, contorting their cheeks and forehead with deep crimson prosthetics to resemble a demon in the flesh. Their pitch-black eyes survey the area, looking for their next victim.

Your inner monologue for the last twenty minutes has been four words on repeat: please don't see me, please don't see me, please don't see me.

"Which part?" Levi questions, tone flat.

"Which part?" you repeat. "Y'know, the whole... getting to live your own horror movie through strangers wearing scary makeup and costumes without the actual threat of dying."

"Tch." His eyes land on the house once more, surveying it as if it's a threat. "I'll believe it when I see it."

Brow furrowed, you turn your attention back to Levi.

"Do... Do you not wanna go in? Because we don't have to."

Realizing he's slashing your excitement with his own naysayer disposition, Levi's face relaxes as he shakes his head and reaches for your hand.

"We're already almost there," he replies. "Besides, you said you wanted to check out everything at the event, including this damn house, so we're doing it."

"Are you sure?"

"Why?" he abruptly asks, and you see it: although your boyfriend isn't the most forthcoming with emotions, there's an uptick to his lip. He's teasing you. "Too scared?"

"No!"

"The grip you have on my hand says otherwise."

"Shut--"

Before you can move forward, the same scare actor that walked down the line suddenly jolts across the stanchion rope, their arm outstretched--

Swiping directly at you.

Except it isn't the ghoulish demon that grabs you.

It's Levi.

Before you can even release a blood-curdling scream, he's on the move. With lightning speed, he shoots an arm out and curls you behind his back to act as a barrier between the 'threat' and you.

When you have the strength to peek, the actor is met with the scowl of the century and one distinct, firm word:

"Don't."

(Is he seriously telling someone not to do their job?)

Blinking furiously in your fright, you note the actor goes about their business without incident -- down the line and away from the two of you, but Levi doesn't let up on the human shield act.

He stands on guard for a secondary scare that never comes.

It's actually adorable.

Bringing your lips into your mouth to suppress budding laughter, you squeeze Levi's side and earn a jolt from the unexpected sensation. His head whips to the left, turning that intense glare now down to you.

"Oi—"

"Please don't try to fist fight the actors," you bemuse with a snort, untangling his arm from your body. "They're doing their job."

The glare softens to a playful narrowed stare.

"Yeah — and I'm doing mine."

credit: dividers by @saradika-graphics

[neptunescore]

Charlos - Remarriage

Prompt word: Remarriage | Pairing: Charlos

Can be read as part 2 to this

Carlos had been in the cereal aisle when he’d heard him. The now retired driver had been busy arguing with the four-year-old girl tucked in his left arm, trying his best — and failing horribly — to convince her that honeyed cheerios were a much better option than those chocolate Coco Pops she’d been obsessed with, he had to get her to eat healthier, ¡por Dios! No matter how little of an improvement this was, at least it would be something.

Isabella had been tugging at his already greying hair when he’d heard the harsh clatter of something being dropped. And then. A mortifyingly familiar accent as the culprit swore in french.

He had turned around; brown eyes settling on the messy brunette hair of the other man.

Carlos had sighed, “Joder. I was doing so well, too.”

It’d been a year now since that abrupt meeting, and as Carlos stood in the opened doorway of his daughter’s room; head leaning against the wall, a smile on his soft lips while he watched his Charles tuck the little girl in, leaving a kiss against her forehead, he was so glad he’d let this happen, let the other man back into his life — even if it had once caused him so much turmoil.

Charles’ head had whipped up so quick, frantic eyes meeting Carlos’ own tired ones as the Ferrari-

No. No, it was RedBull now, wasn’t it?—

as the RedBull driver had lurched forward in an attempt to step closer to him. The Spaniard had been quick to take a step back, hands tightening around Isabella, bringing her closer to himself as a poor attempt of shielding the other man from her sight.

“Mon Dieu.”

Carlos felt ill.

“Cahlos,” he was going to throw up, he was going to wretch his guts out with his daughter in his arms.

“Where have you been?”

Carlos made his way towards his partner, footsteps turning muted as he stepped onto the fluffy blue rug that carpeted Isabella’s floors, “mi corazón, come here. She is already sleeping, come with me.” Charles looked up at him from where he was sitting next to the bed, blinking drowsily as his hand reached out to grasp at Carlos’ outstretched one, “come cariño,” he pulled the other man up, “I want to talk to you.”

He didn’t really understand what had happened next. One second Charles was there, standing unnaturally still while staring at his beautiful baby, the next, he’d been right in front of him — talking a mile a minute as he begged Carlos to meet with him at the local coffee shop, begged Carlos to let him explain, begged Carlos to just hear him out, please. I swear you do not have to see me ever again after, but please, please, just this once, please— all the while snatching quick glimpses at Isabella, as if unsure what to focus on. A third second, and he’d been gone, no trace of him left behind — a ghost.

“¿Quién era ese, papá?” (Who was that, papa?)

Oh fuck.

“Cariño. I think- I think we’re ready, no?” The black haired man whispered, “I think we’re ready.” Green eyes widened, “Are you sure, Cahlos?” His lover asked hesitantly, “what I did to you it cannot be forgiven, it is unforgiv-”

“Sharles. It is me who decides what I will forgive, what I will forget.” His tanned fingers rub soothing circles against the — almost fragile — hand they held, “what happened- it was bad Charles, but I have made it my past, cariño. I am so happy, so happy that I went to the coffee shop. What Ferrari put you through was horrible, and it was wrong for you to hide it from me, to put me through that hurt without telling me why.” He wipes at the tears dripping down the other man’s cheeks.

“But that is the past now, mi vida. You are not with them anymore, you are with a team who supports you now.”

“It- it’s been five years now.” A shaking voice, “it’s all so different.”

“It may be different, but we are still the same, carino — and look at mi princesa, she loves you even more than me now!” Carlos teases.

Charles lets out a giggle before sighing, “okay. Okay.”

The man in front of him grins, “yeah? We’re giving it a go?” His eyes crinkle, “A second marriage? No. Hm. A Retry-marriage? Remarriage? I think that is the word!”

His heart sings as he hears the driver laugh. Oh, how far they’d come.

Can't say much abt this, other than the fact that it might be a little worse than my other works, bc I was lowkey out of motivation near the end of it😭 sorry anon😔✋🏽. I think I might take a little more time responding to prompt ideas now bc I fr need to get on the study grind😤, but I'd love to hear u guys' thoughts and opinions on my works💗🤭

Also, sidenote, it's getting so hard finding matching aesthetic pics of these drivers😭🔫

Divider creds to @cafekitsune ♡

Rules and details☆°•~

[prettypinkporkchop]

My my those eyes like fire

You put the meat inside the zip lock bag and put it in your purse. You are ready to go back out into the woods and see your wolf friend.

One day, you were in the woods upset about something when this gray wolf befriended you. At first, you were scared of the gigantic creature. But, you realized he's so kind to you. Every day, you go out there, hang out with him, and feed him.

He has become your only friend since you've lost your best friend in an accident. You two moved together to start over when tragedy struck. Now you're alone and grieving.

You get deep enough in the trees to where you know he will be. You place down your bag and cross your legs, waiting.

It doesn't take long when you hear a happy whimper and running. You turn, and the wolf is right in front of you, licking your face. You play your hands in the beautiful fur and laugh.

"Okay, okay!"

He sits down next to you, leaning into your arm. You softly pet his head and reach into your bag. His ears perk up, and he looks to see a big thing of meat.

You place it in front of him, and he starts eating it.

"So crazy my only friend is a beautiful wolf." You sigh and then scratch its back. "But I don't mind. I know you won't hurt me." You smile.

The wolf finishes eating and lays its head in your lap. You play with its ears and run your fingers through his neck. He seems to love it as he's trying to keep his eyes open.

"Maybe I should name you?" You giggle.

The wolf opens its eyes, stands in front of you, and keeps his dark brown eyes on yours. Every time you look into this big boys eyes, you feel a connection. You don't have room at home for a whole ass wolf! And Forks probably has a law for that, lol.

"How long can we sit out here today, huh?" You ask as if it would answer. But you always leave when he does.

The wolf places its pay on your knee. You put your hand over the paw. Then, a howl is heard. Followed by another one. The wolf backs away, running a bit forward, howling back, and then runs away.

You stand up, dust off your pants, and go back home.

------

You just got off work, and now you're back in the woods. Hopefully, the wolf will come see you at this time. It's only during the day that you two visit. But right now, you don't want to be home. You're scared of the dark and being alone in the woods, but at this very moment, you just want to not hurt anymore.

You plop down on the ground and start crying. You hope he comes to you.

You end up falling asleep.

"Wake up." A deep voice in your head says.

You jolt awake and notice the gray wolf is lying next to you. When you woke up, it woke him up. He lifts his head and whimpers.

"I'm okay." You sniffle and cuddle into him. But once you do that, he gets up and looks at you.

"What?" You ask.

He stomps his feet and huffs.

"Oh, you're right. I should be in bed, huh?" You giggle and stand up. You start to walk out of the forest but see he is behind you.

"AWE, my guardian." You keep walking, and he doesn't leave your side.

You get home, and he runs off.

"Bye, friend." You mutter.

-----

Another day in the woods, it's a different time like yesterday. You're feeling awfully cold. You feel like you aren't alone, but maybe you're just tripping. It's okay, wait for the wolf.

A hand grips around your neck from behind. It was the coldest hand you've ever felt. It lifts you up and you meet piercing red eyes.

"Who are you?" She smirks at you.

Her grip is too tight for you to speak. Her long and curly red hair is blowing in the wind.

She breathes in, closing her eyes. She opens them and smirks at you.

"Wow, you smell so good."

Your eyes start getting blurry due to your breathing being constricted.you see tiny black dots.

"Victoria, put her down, now." You hear in the distance.

You're dropped to the ground, coughing. You look up and see three different wolves chasing her down.

You sit, trying to compose yourself when the familiar wolf sits next to you. His paw reaches up and softly lands on your back. You lean into him on instinct and cry. The wolf huffs, leaving behind the trees. You hear rustling, and you stare up at the high rocks and trees. Soon, a young man that you find to be the most attractive person ever steps out and looks down at you. (THE GIF ABOVE IS WHAT YOU SEE PLZ SAVE ME).

Before you can say anything, a few howls are heard. He looks back down and then runs off.

-----

You sit on your porch, drinking some wine, thinking about everything that just happened. If only you could call your best friend to tell her.

Your glass is empty, and grab the wine bottle next to you. You move the little bit left at the bottom. "No wonder I'm so tipsy." You sigh.

"You know it's never good to drink that much." You jump and look up to see the guy in the woods. He walks closer to your porch, putting one foot on the step and looking down at you.

You scoff and look down. "Did you see what happened back there?"

"I did. Are you okay?" He sits.

"I guess. I'm just so confused. So over it." You sigh.

"We killed her. She uh.. that was a vampire. Her name is Victoria."

You laugh in distress and nod your head, "Yeah let's keep adding on to crazy. Wolves and vampires?" You down the last bit of the bottle.

"I'm Embry. I'm the wolf. Every day I had to see you." He looks into your eyes.

You realize he wasn't lying because of his eyes. It's the wolf. You feel how he makes you feel.

"That's embarrassing. You know everything about me."

"No, it's not embarrassing." He moves up the steps, sitting on the porch beside you.

You sigh and lay your head on his shoulder. "I'm so tired." You sniffle.

He reaches over, holding your cheek. "Y/n, is it a good time to tell you something life changing?"

"As if my life hasn't already changed. Go ahead." You wrap your arms, pulling on his neck so your head moves closer toward his neck.

His scent is relaxing you. You feel genuine love for Embry. You don't want him to go. You're so happy that he's not just a wolf.

"I imprinted on you."

------

A FEW DAYS LATER:

Embry wraps you tighter in your blanket, holding onto you as if you could disappear. You love falling asleep with him. You love him. He loves you.

His warmth fills you up and you lift your head up looking into his eyes.

It feels like fire staring back at you. You lift your hand, touching his chin.

"Are you about to kiss me?" He asks, looking over your face and bringing his gaze down to your lips.

You slowly nod your head and lean in. He leans in, too. Next thing you two know, the gap is gone. His lips fit in yours. You push further and add your tongue. He plays with his tongue as you two mix saliva.

You throw your blanket off of you, half of it hanging off your bed. You quickly straddle his waist and hold his face.

He breathes heavily, and your heart speeds up. You want all of Embry. You want to be one.

You notice he's scared to touch you as if you're going to break like glass. You grab his hands and lower them to your bottom. He softly squeezes before flipping you over, making him on top. He smiles down at you, chuckling.

"I love you. Like... a lot. Is that weird?" He asks raising an eyebrow.

"No, because I love you."

-----

You stand next to Bella and Edward. Your mind racing as Edward enters the wolves minds.

"Embry's doing good. He's very good." He says.

Riley slowly walks up, making you and Bella jump back.

"Seth! Take her!" Edward yells.

Seth steps to you, and you jump on his back. He doesn't waste a second to start running at full speed, taking you away as Embry requested.

Seth and you sit in the woods. He shifted back to boy Seth. You two sit next to each other, picking grass.

"Sucks, I can't be in the action. But I'm glad you're safe." He nudges you.

"Yeah, it's weird that I was a target, too. It's not like I have anything to do with Bella and Edweird." You giggle.

"It's because she saw you and then wanted to attract us. Wipe us out with the Cullens. Like, okay, I do not care about your drama. Sorry, your boyfriend died?" Seth, and you burst into laughter.

-----

You grab Embry's shirt, pulling him down for a kiss. Your room is cold, but now you feel Embry's temperature.

His hands grab onto your arms, keeping you in place and kissing you back.

He won. You won.

[marshmellowfluff221]

Levi with his pregnant s/o please 🥺

A/N: Your wish is my command ᕦ(ò_óˇ)ᕤ Ty for your request <3

-

No one knew you were pregnant until you started showing. Levi wasn't one to announce it and you had only told Hange because you broke down crying one day in front of them for no reason and they didn't know what to do. The hormones probably gave it away to most people, but they never said anything if they knew. However, once you had a giant belly everyone knew. The scouts in Levi's squad wouldn't let you do anything and if you were out training them, they listened to your every command and did everything as quickly as they could so you could go back inside instead of standing out in the heat. You honestly didn't mind the treatment especially as the months went on and you could barely bend down to pick up anything you'd dropped.

Levi's treatment towards you was especially caring. He didn't care if the squad saw him worry about you, but he tried to keep his composure when you were doing something risky.

"Okay! Can we line up please?" You shouted out at the scouts before you. They stopped their sit ups and moved to line up. As they did, Armin trudged his way over to you, his hands folded in front of him, a nervous look on his face.

"Uh- Y/n. Are you sure you'll be okay today?" Armin asked in a low voice. You gave him a small smile and nodded, a hand on your stomach.

"Yes Armin I'll be okay. Levi should be out here any minute to take over anyways." He had just ran to the stables to make sure everything was ready to take the squad out on the horses.

"I don't think you should really be out here it's kind of hot today and being pregnant and all..." Armin shown concern in his face. You simply smiled and shook your head.

"I'll be okay, go in line now." You nudged him slightly to get in line. As he turned, reluctantly so, to walk back towards the line you felt an odd sensation, immediately putting a hand to your stomach as you let out a deep breath.

"What happened?" Eren yelled from his place in line. They didn't care about staying in line as every single one of them rushed over to you, their faces full of concern.

"Is the baby coming?" Jean exclaimed, eyes wide with what seemed like fear. You looked up at all of them and couldn't help but laugh.

"No guys. It's just a kick." You shook your head. It was then that Levi pushed his way through the squad to get to you, his eyes wide.

"What? What happened." His eyes scanned over you as you simply waved him off. You reached over taking his hand in yours and placing it on your stomach. The baby kicked again and his eyes widened in shock.

"Can I feel?" Jean spoke up from behind Levi. Levi's loving expression turned hard and he turned around.

"No. And just for asking run laps. Everyone." Levi snapped. The squad groaned and started a slow jog. "That's not running." Levi yelled at them before turning towards you.

You were simply smiling at him. His expression softened again before something clicked in his head and he put on a straight face. He did this when he tried to be demanding with you. Emphasis on tried.

"You're not doing trainings anymore. You're getting too close to your due date. Inside work only. And sitting, lots of sitting." He spoke soft yet commanding. You couldn't help but laugh.

"Awh...you're cute when you're trying to be assertive." You leaned forward leaving a small kiss on his cheek. "I'm fine Levi. It's not like I'm going to be out here next month when I'm due."

He narrowed his eyes knowing fully that you wouldn't listen.

Sure enough, when your due date had finally arrived, you were in the middle of the woods, with Levi and his squad, on horseback. He resisted the urge to tell you he told you so until a week later.

[muckmagister]

I’ve had only a bowl of noodles today and I’m not starving. What’s wrong with me? Maybe I should go for a walk to get hungry but it’s dark outside and there might be Bad Guys

you should consume fluids i think 👍 between all the states of matter fluids are my favourite to put in my body, and sometimes when i'm not feeling hungry it's cause i haven't drank enough fluids first

[painted-bees]

A quick, sloppy little comic about Magritte

[OC's]

(image description under the cut)

[Image Description: It's a vertical comic strip of 14 panels arranged one under the other. The style is realistic, done with sketchy lines in a dark burgundy. It is not colored or shaded and there is no background. The comic features the interactions of a couple, Magritte (also called Margie) and Rafael (also called Raf). Magritte is a young woman, she is wearing a baggy armhole tank top with a tight fitting black top underneath, shorts and boots. She has a messy bun and a small messenger bag slung over her left shoulder. Rafael is her partner, wearing baggy pants, sneakers, fingerless gloves, V-neck t-shirt and an open button-up jacket with a hoodie and the sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair has short side with long top bangs and a short goatee.

 (First panel): There's only Magritte visible from the waist up. Off screen, Raf says to someone else: “Magritte has our tickets.” Magritte is excited, looking straight forward. Her left hand in on her bag's strap, her right hand rummaging inside her bag. Magritte says: "Yeah! Even made sure to put them in my wallet so that I wouldn't- uh..."

 (Second panel): She is beginning to look concerned, now with her face turned to her back, both left hand holding the lip to open the bag wider and her right hand still rummaging inside. Magritte says: "wouldn't forget.... Hang on, it's not on it's usual pocket. Haha." The last is a nervous laughter.

 (Third panel): Magritte is kneeling on the ground. Rafael is standing to the side and behind her, only his feet visible. Magritte looks frantic, searching inside her bag. Her right arm is forearm deep digging in her bag. Magritte says: "It's definitely here-! It's the one thing I never forget 'cus I never take it out of my bag!" Rafael says, firmly: "Margie, when you took it out to put the tickets in, did you put the wallet back in the bag?" The letters are bolded, with the word "back" underlined for emphasis. Magritte says: "Give me some credit, there's no way I'm that stupid." The last three words are underlined for emphasis.

 (Fourth panel):  The scene has changed and now Magritte and Rafael are in a car. We see them from the passenger's side. Rafael is driving, looking straight ahead at the road. Magritte is hunched forward, hugging herself with the left hand. Her right hand is holding her head. She is looking out the passenger window, avoiding Raf.

 (Fifth panel):  Rafael turns slightly to look at Magritte.

 (Sixth panel):  The point of view is now a side profile view from the drivers side. Rafael has his left arm leaning on the open window, his right hand on the wheel. Magritte is hunched over facing the passenger window. Rafael says: "I'm not mad at you, if that's what you're worried about." Magritte says: "I can literally feel your disappointment."

 (Seventh panel): Back to the passengers side, Rafael is looking at the road. Magritte is frustrated, no longer leaning her head against her right hand and instead her hand is palm upwards. Rafael says: "Well, yes. It is a disappointing situation, but-" Magritte interrupts: "You'd think I'd be able to do the one thing I was asked to do-! That I'd at least learn from the last billion times I forgot shit. Rafael says, quieter: “that's not where I was going with this...”

(Eighth panel):  Magritte has her right hand holding her face with the palm on her cheek, left hand placing the tips of her fingers on her left temple and eye brows. She is frustrated and angry. Magritte says: "It's not like I've got anything more important rattling around in my brain.  But, for some reason, if it's not my music, or like.... food or something, then it's just not a priority. I can't make myself care enough to make it a priority!"

(Ninth panel): She now has both hands in front of her, elbows bent, finger extended in a vague hand gesture as if there was something in front of her. Magritte says: "I'm an adult in my 20s and I still manage my responsibilities like a child. I'd be more dependable if I could just stop and think for a second, but I'd probably forget to even breathe if it weren't for the..."

 (Tenth panel): Her frustrated expression turned to confusion. Her hands are still in the air in the same position as before. Magritte says:"... why are we parked?" Her noticing this stopped her rant.

(Eleventh panel): Magritte straightens up and faces the window entirely, left hand crossed over her body to lean on the car door. Rafael, off screen: "Margie." Magritte says: "Oh." Magritte's inner thoughts are written around her. "He stopped the car to scold me. No, not ‘scold’. Don't be a child about this. He's disappointed and just needs to make sure you understand so you can do better next ti-"

 (Twelfth panel): Magritte is still looking out the window, but now with a shocked expression. Rafael reached with his right hand, and its now resting gently on her upper back. Rafael interrupts her inner monologue with "I need you to stop repeating the shit your parents and teachers and such yelled at you growing up. They were wrong, and nothing you just said makes sense."

 (Thirteenth panel):  The perspective switches back to the driver's side profile. Rafael says: "A poor memory isn't synonymous with poor priorities. Nor does it speak to a lack of maturity. The priority was there, we just have to build a better habit of checking things before we leave the apartment. Both of us. It's gonna take time. You afford everyone else a ton of patience, all the time. Can you please afford some for yourself? The situation sucks, we were both looking forward to this. But it's not the end of the world. We didn't forget things on purpose. So let's take it easy and try to end the day on a good note. Alright?" Magritte says: "Okay... c-can we um...."

 (Fourteenth panel): Magritte has turned to face Rafael and her eyes are filled with tears and they're running down her cheeks.  Rafael looks startled, lifting his arm off Magritte's back. Magritte says: "Can we get some ice cream on the way back?" Rafael says: "O-of course!" End of description.]

This description was written and provided by Hiwi.

[dollfacefantasy]

MAKE HIM DO WHAT I SAY ♡

pairing: older bf!!logan howlett x fem!reader

summary: you and logan make a little bet. who can last longer without sex? as much as he wants to deny it, he's starting to think the answer might be you.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, brief daddy kink (one mention)

a/n: a commission for my sweet @sleepyluxe who i love so very much <33 this fic takes place after the events of dofp when things are fixed.

Seven days. One week. A quarter of a month. That's how long it had been since Logan and you had fucked.

It was brutal. Some may say he's being dramatic, but that's because they've never had the luxury of you. They couldn't understand losing a paradise they've never experienced. The past several days he's felt like a man wandering through a barren desert, the oasis in sight but never close enough to drink from. Absolute torture

Unfortunately, this situation came about because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

You'd been getting some work done late last Sunday evening. Just a few plans for the upcoming school week. Your fingers punched away at your computer while Logan lay on the bed twirling a stray cigar between his fingers.

"How many more pages you got?" he asked, boosting his head up to glance at you.

At the sound of his voice, you spun your chair around to face him. "Not that many. Just finalizing a few details for the field trip they're taking the kids on next weekend," you said.

"You're not even going. Why're they making you do that?"

The fat stick of tobacco continued to glide between his digits. One of your legs crossed over the other as you watched him.

"I'm not going because I offered to do all the planning," you reminded him. 

Your eyes stayed on the tantalizing movements of his fingers.

"You know you can't smoke in here, so don't even think about it," you said.

He rolled his eyes and puffed air through his pursed lips as if that was an outrageous warning. Sitting up, he put the cigar back in the drawer on his side of the bed. He rose to his feet and began to cross the room in your direction.

"Maybe you should give me something else to do with my mouth then," he teased, his voice lowering to the octave that reverberated with want for you.

Then it was your turn to roll your eyes. You turned your chair back toward the desk and continued grazing your fingertips over the raised letters.

It didn't deter him though. He kept on in your direction, stopping only when he was directly behind the backing of your seat.

His hands landed on your shoulders, fingers massaging the tight muscles fanning out from your neck. He leaned forward so his head hovered beside yours. You could hear each breath he took. The smell of that cigar lingered around his form even if he hadn't lit up tonight.

"C'mon, babydoll. You've been working so hard. A little break won't hurt you," he murmured, lips pressing against your cheekbone.

"I have to have these done by tomorrow morning. Just give me a few minutes, and then I'll be done for the night and completely focused on you," you'd rebuffed him gently.

But that didn't satisfy Logan. When he wanted you, he got you. He proceeded with his tender touches and luring pecks. You remained focused on your work though. He figured he should vary his approach.

"Just let me make you feel good then, honey. Give you some extra motivation," he whispered. His dedicated hands drifted to your waist, squeezing in a way that teased the idea of lifting you up and putting you on his lap. As good as it would've felt to be full of him, you knew you had to get this done.

"You're so bad," you said with a smile, head falling back a little as his mouth moved to your neck, "You act like you haven't gotten any in decades."

"Is that your way of telling me you're getting tired of me?" he teased.

"No. I'm just saying you're insatiable. It's getting to the point where I don't think you could live without me," you responded with a tone matching his in arrogance.

His eyebrow raised, and he pulled back a little to laugh. "That so?"

"Mhm," you nodded. Your sweet eyes stared him down, begging him to disagree.

Looking back, he wishes he could travel through time again to slap any further words out of his mouth. He should've just agreed! Should've told you that you were absolutely right. That he can't live without you, can't survive this life if he doesn't get to slip inside of you at the end of each day. He should've waited the fifteen minutes it would've taken you to finish your paperwork and then gotten laid.

But he didn't do any of that. He had to keep going and dig himself into a deeper hole.

"Don't act so innocent, princess. You're just as bad as me," he'd said.

"No way," you'd huffed, smirking with amusement, "I want you a totally normal amount. You want me like every second of the day. If you could, I don't think you'd ever let me do anything. You'd probably keep me chained to the bed, yours for the taking at all times of the day.

"Like you wouldn't love that. I'm not the one pawing at you every morning, whining about how bad I need it," he taunted.

"Oh shut up, that's happened like a couple times. Every day you're right in my ear, feeling me up. You practically drag me away from what I'm doing when you wanna fuck," you fired back, "I am nowhere near as bad as you."

And then he'd spoken the three cursed words that launched him into this predicament.

"You wanna bet?"

You laughed more at that and nodded again. "Sure. Because I know I'll win."

And that unofficial vow of celibacy was why the two of you had been dancing around each other for the past week. He was starting to feel like that old love song counting the amount of time it'd been since he had you beneath him last. Fifteen hours and seven days or however it went.

You didn't make this trying time any easier for him either. That night he went to sleep with blue balls. The next morning, he woke up to you getting ready. You weren't dressed in your usual style of clothing though. Instead, you had on a dress, Logan's favorite dress of yours. You'd styled your hair real pretty too, letting it compliment your features in the best way.

As his heavy lids blinked open to consciousness, he watched you fasten a shimmering necklace over your collarbone. It sat just above the neckline of the chiffon fabric that adorned your bust.

You caught his waking eyes with your own in the reflective glass, turning to look at him with a bright smile. 

Despite his bleary vision, he could hear the light steps of you prancing over to him. The mattress dipped with your weight as you sat down and leaned in to kiss his forehead. Your fingers slid through his dark hair just the way he likes, with your nails scratching his scalp a little. Worst of all, that close, the scent of your perfume became all consuming. It hit him harder than normal. He wasn't sure if he should blame you or himself for predicting the trials of the coming days.

He hummed in acknowledgement of your presence and nuzzled into your palm.

"Hey, sleepyhead," you cooed, your voice extra soft and sweet. It was too caring to be seductive, but of course, that's where his mind went anyways.

"Hey, baby," he'd mumbled.

"I gotta go drop off that paperwork, but I'll see you later. I love you," you whispered in return before laying one more column of kisses from the tip of his nose back to his forehead.

Then you'd left, leaving him half-hard and yearning for you. A pattern that would plague him over the next week.

Each day it was some new form of torture. The day after that, you'd worked extra hard in the danger room, coming back to him at night covered in a light sheen of sweat. Your heady natural scent filled the bedroom in moments.

The following afternoon, you wanted to cuddle when you both had some free time. The fact that you draped your leg over his torso, slotting your clothed cunt right against his hip, inches away from his cock, was pure accident of course.

Over the last few days, your games have become less specific. You peppered your speech with innuendo. Looked at him with your fuck-me eyes and spoke in the tone you always used seconds before he ended up bending you over the nearest surface.

He tried to fight back, he really did. He stopped wearing a shirt in your shared room. Every time he talked to you, he made sure to rub your ass or stroke your cheek. He was so desperate he stooped to embarrassing levels of lovey-dovey when the two of you were alone. But no matter what he tried, it seemed like you'd been right. Of your pair, you had the superior restraint.

With each passing hour, his frustration grew.

Today, it reaches its zenith.

The mansion is empty because it's Sunday. All the students and other teachers are out on the trip to the observatory today. You and Logan are the only remaining residents in the school. He ended up not having to tag along with the rest of the group after volunteering to fix the sprinklers bordering the school's patio. Babysitting kids had never been his forte even with all the practice he gets at it now. Simple handiwork he could do no problem.

The two of you take the morning to sleep in. This was a rare occasion where no early meetings or classes occupied your schedules. You stay tangled up together well past sunrise.

Logan is the first to leave the warmth and comfort of your embrace. He pulls himself from the nest of pillows and blankets, stretching his limbs out as he does. He rubs the tiredness from his features before rising and heading to the wardrobe to pull on some clothes.

In addition to his normal black t-shirt and jeans, he grabs the tool belt on his way out to the lawn. He slings it around his hips before walking through the back door. Heading past the basketball court and rows of hedges, he finds the line of leaking sprinklers besides them. It would probably take him a while given that he had to first identify the source of the problem and then recalibrate all of them with the adjustment.

He sighs but gets to work. At least he'd have a distraction from the desires haunting him.

Crouching in the dewy grass next to the little faucets, he begins examining the hard plastic shells. To his surprise, scanning for breaks does attach his mind to the task and give him a brief reprieve. It's quiet outside. Besides a small chirp from a distant bird or a grunt out of him, no other sounds echo over the open space. The sun shines in the sky, but it's not beating down on him. The air tickles his skin with warmth but not to the point of being miserably humid.

All the conditions meet in the perfect middle to keep him calm. It's the most peace he's had since he agreed to this bet between the two of you.

But all that tranquility is shattered about a half hour later when he hears the patter of footsteps against the stone pathway. From around the tall thicket of green foliage, comes you. Your face breaks out into a smile the second you burst into his vision. He would look the same if not for what you'd decided to wear.

You trot over to him across the grass in a pair of tiny black shorts with lacy frills on the hems. They sway with each of your movements, highlighting the shape of your legs. A gray camisole graces your upper half; a delicate white bow sits at the center of the collar, dead center between your breasts. The fit of the garment displays the contour of your chest just right. He feels like he's gonna start drooling before you make it near.

Despite his reaction, the outfit wasn't that provocative. It wasn't like you'd strutted out in lingerie. But he was so pent up that a flash of your ankle in the proper lighting could probably get him hard.

Bounding up to him, you wrap his body in a tight hug. Every curve of your form presses up against him.

"Look at you, working so hard," you praise playfully with a kiss to his cheek.

He laughs it off, returning the hug in an attempt to be normal, so you wouldn't see how vulnerable he was right now, how this was the perfect opportunity to strike. He couldn't let you know that in this moment, he could easily become the prey.

"Were you missing me already?" he asks, rubbing his free hand up and down your spine.

"Mhm. Woke up and you were gone," you reply. You nuzzle the crook of his neck, planting a few electric kisses on his skin.

"I didn't wanna wake you. You're pretty cute when you're sleeping," he mutters.

"Well now I'm gonna be cute out here with you," you say and pull back. You peck his lips one more time before plopping down in the grass behind him.

He glances back at you to see what that means. All you're doing is sitting there. Your legs extend out in front of you, straightened for his eyes to rake over. You lean back with your palms against the moist greenery below you.

"You don't got anything better to do with your day off?" he asks.

That earns him a small pout. "If you want me to leave, I will. I just wanna spend time with you."

He can tell by your tone that your intentions aren't so innocent. You're leading him into allowing your presence. But denying his girlfriend has never been one of the wolverine's strengths so of course, he acquiesces.

"Relax. I'm not telling you to go anywhere," he says as he turns back to his work, "I just don't think this will be that interesting to you."

"Watching you do anything is interesting to me," you joke back.

He rolls his eyes and gets back to work.

At first, things are smooth as before. He continues messing with the small, bendy pipes. You're quiet behind him. Almost too quiet, but he lets it go for now since he thinks he's found the source of the malfunction.

It doesn't take long to patch up. The more difficult part is going to each individual head and fixing the tightness. His fingers twist the little knobs to the correct settings. He then turns to you when he's finally done.

The sight of you feels like a gust of fresh air filling his lungs. You're laid out where you were before, but you've reclined across the ground. One of your arms is sprawled outwards, soaking up the sunlight while the other lazily covers your eyes. Your shadow outlines your figure against the emerald blades below you.

You look luscious and ripe, like a precious fruit ready to be picked and devoured. In any other circumstance, that's exactly what he'd do. He'd spread you out further for him and take you apart piece by piece. He wanted your nectar running down his chin with each savoring lap of his tongue. He craved the feeling of your heat wrapped around him, your walls massaging his shaft during every punishing thrust.

Imagining it now only gets the blood pumping down South to his hardening length.

He runs a hand over his hair and sighs. Why didn't he do that now? What was the point of this stupid fucking contest? It's not like there was anything on the line. The only stake was his pride, which to be honest, he'd already compromised for you multiple times over the course of your relationship.

Unbuckling the leather from his waist, he discards the tool belt. Next he peels his shirt from his body and tosses it to the side.

He makes his way to you on the grass. He drops to his knees and leans forward. His muscular frame cages you in against the ground. Starting at your navel, he drags his nose up your body. He coasts over the valley between your breasts and past your collar bone. His soft exhales breeze across your throat before he finally reaches your cheek. With a gentle pull, he clears your arm from your face.

Your eyes flutter to adjust to the sunlight beaming down on them again. They take in the vision of him so close to you and the way he gazes down with adoration.

"Hey, pretty girl," he says, his voice much softer than it'd been before, "You falling asleep on me?"

His thumb rubs over your jawline while the other strokes the crown of your head. A smile blooms across your lips. You can't help it with how he's behaving.

"No... well, maybe a little. I think you were right. Sprinklers are pretty boring," you say.

He grins and leans in to kiss your lips. With the exchange he hopes to communicate everything he doesn't want to say. I give up. You win.

You reach up and cup his scruffy cheeks. Your tongue swipes against his lips, sensing his longing for intimacy. He allows you in, and you deepen the connection. A long breath oozes from your nostrils.

He presses you down against the ground further as your hands slide over the little white streaks in his hair. Your fingers embed themselves in his locks. You feel his hands sliding down your body. They stop at your hips and give the plush flesh a squeeze.

It's obvious what he wants, but in case there was any doubt, his digits then hook around the top of your shorts and give them a tug.

A giggle bubbles up out of you against his mouth. You pull back to look at him with smug eyes.

"Is that your way of admitting I was right?" you ask.

He grumbles and ducks his head down to start kissing your neck. "Don't get cocky or I'll change my mind."

That makes you laugh more. You yank on his hair and pull him back up to look at you. 

"No you won't," you tease and brush your noses together. Looking into his eyes again, you can see how bad he wants this. "Just say it."

"Say what?"

"Say you're giving in. And that I win. And that you can't live without me."

He gives you a blank stare. Silently, he contemplates if there's any way around this. He wonders if there's a way he can avoid utter humiliation.

"C'mon, baby. Throw an old dog a bone," he grumbles.

Giggling, you shake your head. "Nuh uh. I wanna hear you say it."

He sighs and rolls over, pulling you on top of him. You straddle his hips with learned ease. Your smile glows from this angle. The sunlight above cascades over your frame and only further accentuates your body in your tight clothes. He rubs his hands up and down your sides. His dick is already at half-mast under the denim that covers his lower body. Your heat rests right on top of it, teasing him through the barriers of cloth. It dangles what he could have if he gives you what you want right before him.

The words that challenged you and created this trap for himself came out so easy. Why couldn't these be the same?

To coax him along, you grind down the slightest bit. The pressure's so light and gentle, a mere graze of your mound on the outline of his growing bulge. He hisses at the feeling.

"Just admit it," you say, planting your palms on his chest, "Just say I was right and you were wrong."

He watches you above him, knowing you're not going to drop this. If he wanted this self-invoked dry spell to end, he'd have to make it happen.

You roll your hips down with more force, impatient to hear him comply with your request. A small whimper leaks out of you. He can tell from that sound alone that you're getting worked up. That arousal is beginning to collect between your thighs.

The thought of it makes his need for you almost biological. His hands clamp around your waist and press you down harder. He rocks his up a little to meet your own movements.

"I need you so bad, princess," he sighs, his eyes shutting as he takes in the dull pleasure of you on top of him.

"Then you can say what I told you," you tease.

"What was it again?" he asks as he continues dragging your covered pussy back and forth along his now fully hard shaft.

"Say you're giving in. That I win. And that you can't live without me," you remind him, visibly proud of your victory.

With a sigh, he repeats, "I'm giving in. You win. I can't live without you."

You smile and laugh as if it was the best thing you'd ever heard. Your head falls back with glee before coming up so you can see his face again.

"Actually, can you say that again? I'm gonna grab my phone. That way I can film it this time. I just wanna have a record-" you continue to tease, but you're cut off by your own squeal when he grabs you and flips you back over onto your back. He keeps you quiet by smashing his lips against yours as your back thuds against the grass.

This kiss burns hotter than the last one. His mouth moves with bruising passion as he pulls your shorts down your legs for real. You help him by kicking them loose. His hands roam around over your smooth skin.

He glances down and finds what he thought he felt. No panties.

Eyes flitting back up to you, he shakes his head. "You were gonna give in anyways," he accuses.

"Yeah, but you gave in first," you giggle.

A small growl rumbles in his chest, but he still leans in to pull your tank top up. He brings it across your stomach, letting your breasts fall free as he bunches the material above them. He cups the plump flesh, taking a look at the beauty he holds in his palms. You watch him in the fleeting interval in which you're forced to separate.

"So... since I win, what do I get?" you continue to gloat.

"My dick inside you," he answers as his fingers yank his zipper open and shove down his pants in a similar fashion to your shorts.

"But I'm gonna get that anyways. I think I should get a real prize," you say, aiming to stoke the flames higher.

Your hips get hauled closer across the grass, so fast that you're in danger of having green smeared across your skin.

"I don't think you'll be complaining in a few minutes, ya little brat," he mumbles.

His fist pumps over his cock as he lines it up between your legs. The leaky tip smears some precum over your folds before he slides inside. He groans as he sinks in, cherishing the feeling after the week of its absence.

You're quick to adjust to the stretch. With a sharp breath, your back arches off the grass. He had already snapped back and slammed in again. You knew he wouldn't be patient after being deprived of this. Watching him above you, your eyes study how his chest puffs in and out with harsh breaths. His strong arms extend down on either side of your head, his fists holding clumps of grass between them. 

It's a gorgeous view, but you know it can't beat the feeling.

"Closer..." you whine and grab at his shoulders, pulling him down so he's right on you and smothering your body against the turf, "Missed you, old man."

"How many times have I told you to quit it with that?" he asks as his pelvis begins setting a rhythm.

"Enough to know that I'm never gonna," you say. It's the last thing you can get out before moans shatter your plans to speak.

His warm flesh pounds against yours over and over. Your body rocks with the bounce of him on top of you. It feels so good. The world feels bright again, like you'd transitioned from an existence of black and white to living in color. It was so open out here but also so empty. Like you and him were the only two people on earth.

Your voice tapers off. Words become second to whimpers of pleasure. His hands grope the swell of your ass before returning to your sides for steady leverage.

"We'll have to work on that then," he grunts, "If you're not gonna stop, I'll just have to make sure you can't speak at all."

You preen at the idea, clutching at his muscular shoulders and back. He pants right next to your ear. Each stroke drives deep into you, brushing a spot that had ached for him to touch it again.

"Never wanna go that long again," you babble around whines.

"Me neither, baby. Think you were right. Not being able to feel this pretty little pussy every day almost killed me," he says.

A rush of euphoria flows through you upon hearing that. Your moans become more breathy, more full of need for him. You grab one of his wrists and tug his hand off your hip, pushing it in between your legs.

He knows what you want. His fingers apply some pressure and rub at your swollen bundle of nerves. Immediately, he's rewarded with a whine out of you and a buck from your hips.

"Impatient," he huffs between a set of deep thrusts.

"I won," you retort, "I get to do what I want."

Even in the heat of the moment, he chuckles at your petulant tone. His hips keep rutting against you on the grass. He's sure his next task of yard-work will be covering the mysterious indents in the soil out here.

"I needa cum, Logan," you whine several seconds later, "So close."

"Yeah? You need it, sweetheart? Need to let it out after keeping it from me for so long?"

Your head bobs up and down in an enthusiastic nod. "Please, please, please."

"Well, it's like you said. You won. So I think you can finish when you're ready."

"Mmmm- o- ok..." you whimper out.

Your hips roll up and down to reciprocate the fast pace of his own. He's battering right up against that special spot inside you that makes your mind blank and your eyes gloss up.

With a handful of whimpers, you cum. Your face scrunches as your cunt tightens around him. His fingers keep up the same rhythm on your clit, swirling around the little bud through your pleasure high.

"That's my girl," he praises, "Let it all out for daddy."

Your body seizes up at that command. Every cell of your being somehow knows to obey. You stumble over words and let them leave your lips half formed.

He keeps driving into you as you're coming down, chasing his own release. You're well into the territory of overstimulation now, all parts of you fizzling like a lit sparkler.  Your thighs quiver against his sides violently. They lock around his waist when you finally feel him slam in and drain himself.

A loud groan erupts from him. He makes no effort to restrain it given that only the two of you are here to hear it. He fucks it into you, ricocheting himself against your center a couple more times and letting every last drop pour into your dripping hole.

When he feels sated, at least for the moment, he reluctantly pulls out. He takes a couple deep breaths as he watches a bit of his cum ooze out of you. It didn't matter though. That wouldn't be the last load you took today.

His body topples over next to yours on the natural ground. You both lie there for a few moments catching your breath before you roll onto your side to look at him.

You just stare for a few moments. Your eyes roam along the shape of his face to the slope of his jaw and the curve of his chest. Leaning in, you kiss the space below his ear.

He responds to the touch by curling his arm around your waist and pulling you to his side.

His head turns to meet your loving gaze.

"I think we have some more time to make up for," he says.

You respond with an eager nod and hop up to your feet. Both of you pull on the basics of the clothes you'd been wearing before and rush back into the mansion, giggling as you stumble through the halls like a couple of lovesick teenagers.

The door to your room stays shut for the rest of the day. You spend the remaining hours you have enmeshed in each other; intertwined with him enough to recover from the lack you'd put yourself through.

Logan doesn't venture beyond the barrier of your shared sanctuary until the sun has gone down and darkness coats the halls of the mansion.  He walks quietly, taking his steps carefully to ensure none of the wooden planks beneath him creak.

All he had to do was go downstairs and grab you some water. In and out. Five minutes. But as he rounds the turn into the room, Scott's already there, looking through the fridge. He freezes and stands there awkwardly in his black tank top and loose sweatpants.

Having heard the sounds of his footsteps, the other man glances over at him. 

"There you are. Didn't see you around when I got back," he says simply.

Logan shrugs, trying to play it casual. He walks across the room toward the cupboard that holds the glasses. The other man's eyes follow him. He can feel that even through the scarlet shades on his face.

"Haven't seen your other half either," Scott continues.

Logan can tell from the tone of his voice where this is going. 

"Don't call her that," he scoffs, forever downplaying his attachment to you, "She's tired. She's upstairs sleeping."

"On her day off? I wonder what would have her so drained," Scott replies. His tone is flat in contrast to the little smirk on his face.

"Don't start," Logan says. He goes to the fridge to fill your cup with water. The trickle of the fluid is the only sound in the room until Scott keeps going.

"I didn't say anything," he says, raising his hands in surrender, "Only that this is the best mood you've been in all week."

"A couple hours without you around does wonders for me," Logan grumbles, wishing the liquid would pour a little faster.

"I'm sure. A couple hours with no one else around. Just the two of you after you've both been stiff the whole week," he taunts, "It's ok to admit you're whipped."

Finally, the cup is full. Logan takes it and turns away, holding one finger up as he walks from the kitchen.

"See you tomorrow, Scott."

"Yeah. Tell her if she's feeling sore, she can skip the early meeting," he says with a little laugh.

[slvttyplum]

banner: @roseschoices divider: @cafekitsune

choso never really got mad, he didn't feel the need to get all up in arms about things he couldn't t control, the only thing he could do was control his own emotions and that's what he did most of the time.

growing up with brothers aren't easy, they turn you over, rat you out, get you in trouble, everything under the sun, so choso was used to teasing and rough play, but what he wasn't used to was seeing you practically naked trying to go out the house.

his blood didn't immediately boil at the sight, he tried to stay calm of course and question the situation, like why the fuck his partner was walking out of the house with a bikini top and shorts that barely covered the bottom of your ass.

“oh! im just having a beach day with my friends.” the innocent smile on your face convinced him that you weren't aware that your outfit wasn't necessarily appropriate to wear, so he didn't shoot you down too quick and instead put the same smile on his face.

“is that right? i didn't know. do you have a cover-up?” trying to slide in the subliminal quickly and smoothly, but once he heard your answer, his blood ran over and told you to please change your outfit.

“i… choso i just got this outfit.” those words sliding into his ears and sliding right out, he couldn't give one fuck. normally he wouldn't care what you wore, but that right there was a no no. you're going on a day trip with your friends without him wearing that, whose attention were you trying to get?

there was no need for him to keep trying to explain to you why you shouldn't even be wearing that outfit in the first place, but his dick thought otherwise, a prime example as to why you shouldn't be wearing it.

if it can happen to him, it can happen to anyone else.

“go change.” his jaw clenching and his arms folded as he stares you down, waiting for you to budge or break down, giving up and go change.”

“no, bye.” you slide on one flip-flops before choso walks closer to you, grabbing you by the waist and bending down and leaning closer to your ear.

“go change for me. don't be difficult.” his breath warm and sliding over your ear then neck, almost making you collapse, but you had to hold your own.

“no.” with that final no, choso picks you up and puts you over his shoulder. it was over for you, when he walked to the bedroom and tossed you on the bed, you knew you weren't making it to the beach.

choso stripped your shorts off revealing a bikini and not even five minutes later, the both of you were naked, and you were on all fours arched with your head against the pillow and chosos dick sliding in and out of you.

moans falling out of your mouth as his body clashes with yours and his hands roam your body, sending chills and then tingles shortly after. your eyes rolling up to the top of your eyelid and your body jolting every time he hit your sweet spot, the overwhelming pleasure was too much for you to handle.

your hands try to grip the sheet, but choso puts his hands over yours, balls them into a fist and puts them behind your back.

choso couldn't stop fucking you. the thought of someone else seeing you in that outfit made him upset, his blood boiling, turning into arousal.

he fucked you into the early morning. that day forward you never wore anything to piss him off, or maybe you did, getting fucked by an angry choso was painfully hot.

[reiderwriter]

Hi, so I have a request, but please don't feel pressured to write it now.

I was wondering if you could please do a scene or scenario where Spencer shouts out in desperation and panic "where's my wife" after a close call with the team on a very dangerous case.

A/N: I put a bit of a twist on your request so I hope you still enjoy it! Thank you for requesting~♡

Warnings: minor injury to canon characters, explosion, temporary loss of hearing, sight, etc.

The force of the blow was so strong that when Spencer Reid finally came to, a few seconds after hitting the ground hard, he couldn't hear a thing. 

Whether it was adrenaline, or an injury, or pure shock, his senses were numb, and the only thought in his head as he started screaming was of you. 

“Wh-where,” he coughed, shaking his head to try and focus. “Where's my wife?” 

His voice was quiet and weak at first, but it didn't matter to him. After all, he couldn't hear the words at all. He just felt his lips form the words and knew the familiar vibrations in his throat meant the sound was escaping into the wind. 

You pushed through crowds with a scream as you tried to get through to your team. Spencer wasn't the only one close to the blast. 

Emily, JJ, Morgan, and Hotch were all in various states of disarray around you as you ran back from the car across the street. You'd run back to check some files, feeling something off, and the heat and loud boom behind you was the confirmation you'd been looking for that you were right. 

After his first few attempts, Reid still couldn't see you, much less hear you or touch you or press his arms around you and not let go. He struggled to his feet and began calling again. 

“Where's my wife? Where is… WHERE'S MY WIFE?” His voice broke, and he  coughed gasped through each word, but he didn't stop. 

He stumbled forward, looking to see you through the haze of dust that had erupted from the blast site. Morgan ran to his side just as he tripped, pulling an arm under his as they stumbled together away from the rubble. 

“Where is she? She was right here, I need-” he coughed, leaning more on Morgan than he was walking for himself as his ankles twisted under him. 

“Hey, hey kid, we're okay. We need to get away from the blast, okay? Away.” 

Spencer kept rambling, though, his ears ringing as he blinked away his confusion and the panic creeped in stronger. 

“My wife, where is she? Morgan, I have to find her, she could be hurt,” he demanded, his voice stronger now as he pushed out of Morgan's grip. 

Ambulances and police cars were beginning to pull up, half of them already having been on route when your team had pulled up. 

Spencer searched through the crowd, sorting through faces until he found the one he desperately needed to see. 

Emily and JJ had been thrown back towards the cars, but both seemed to have missed big shrapnel and other injuries. He watched them clutch each other and stumble behind the cars as they called into their phones, requesting backup. 

Hotch was similarly talking fast to surrounding officers, and though he looked fine, he clutched his knee in his hand. The already dark material of his pants was somehow darker, and shinier in places, and it was only a moment later that Spencer realized a large chunk of shrapnel was jutting out of his leg, just above the knee. 

Rossi had been the furthest from the blast, bar you, and it was him that Spencer saw next, dusting off his clothes as he moved quickly to assess the scene. 

Morgan was still worriedly trailing behind him as he tripped over his feet. 

“Where's my wife? Where's my wife?” 

He finally saw you then, as you dove into the dust and smoke to assist your team. He was just about to fall to his knees when you ran to him, holding him up under his arms as he wrapped himself around you. 

“Found you. I found you, you're okay?” He asked, hands gently cradling your cheeks as he asked, tears in his eyes. 

“I'm fine, Spencer. Are you-” 

He silenced you with his lips, mouth slanting down on yours as he pushed every fear, every emotion, every ounce of adrenaline into your body. He kissed you like you'd never been kissed before, with desperation and longing and relief. 

And when he pulled away, he collapsed into your arms. 

Luckily, Morgan had been only steps away and took some of his weight off you as you stood, gasping for air and reeling from the kiss. 

You were so dazed, you collapsed to the floor, your knees giving in beneath you, and both Spencer and Morgan came down with you. The three of you were weak and traumatized, and emotions were running high, which is why you tried not to be offended by Morgan's line of questioning. 

“How long have you two been married?” He asked, and you were suddenly taken further aback. 

“What?” 

“Reid was looking for his wife. He was shouting ‘where's my wife? I need to find her.’ He was desperate. He was pushing away from me, and then he saw you, and he relaxed.” Despite the blow of the explosion and the now whirl of shrill sirens surrounding them, Morgan laid every word out carefully, like you would blow just as easily given the chance. 

“I'm not… we're not…Morgan, we're not even dating. I don't know what that was but…” 

Your hands carefully stroked Spencer's hair, gently smoothing it out of his eyes as you searched for answers in the man's unconscious form. 

You didn't stop until the paramedics arrived four minutes later, sitting unblinking as they hooked him up to an oxygen tank and carted him off to the nearest hospital. 

XXX 

The second time Spencer Reid awoke, it was dark outside, and the lights were low. But you were at his bedside, sleeping with your head by his legs, and your breathing was steady. So he let his eyes close again, not registering any of the pain the day had inflicted, and let himself sleep beside you. 

XXX

The third time Spencer Reid awoke, you were gone. He wasn't alone, though. Rossi sat upright in a chair beside the window of his hospital room, reading from what looked to be a case file. 

“Spencer, glad to see you returned to the land of the living,” Rossi said, noticing the younger man's movement and walking to his side. He pressed a button, and a doctor raced in, closing the door gently behind him. 

“Where is she? Where is-” 

“Spencer, it's okay. Everyone's okay. The doctor needs to run through some questions with you to check if you're feeling okay. Do your best to answer, okay, genius?” 

Spencer nodded, ignoring the small ache in his head, so similar to the headaches he'd been plagued with in earlier years. 

The doctor ran through standard questions, checked his blood pressure, checked his reactions, and made sure physically he was fine before moving on to more probing issues. 

“Doctor Reid, I'm going to ask you some simple questions about yourself now to assess for any neurological damage.” 

Reid nodded, regretting it instantly, but wanting to get out of the hospital as fast as possible to see you.  

“How old are you, Doctor Reid?” 

“Thirty, I'll be thirty-one this fall.” The doctor nodded and continued. 

“Where did you grow up?” 

“Las Vegas, Nevada. My mom still lives there. She's a patient at Bennington Sanitarium.” 

The doctor nodded and continued. 

“Are you married, Doctor Reid?” 

“Yes, my-” Spencer had to cut himself off as he processed the question fully. Was he married? No. He didn't remember any wedding. He had no romantic arrangement with anyone at this point in time. So why was he saying yes? 

Your face flashed into his head, and he grabbed his chest as his heart ached. It wasn't your face as he usually saw it, but that dazed and shocked expression you'd worn after he'd kissed you. 

He blanched and reclined slightly, suddenly needing all the pillows on the bed for more support as he realized the weight of his mistake. 

“Doctor Reid? Doctor Reid, did you understand the question?”

“What? Oh, no. No, I'm…I'm not married, I guess.” 

Rossi and the doctor shared a look before the doctor took his leave, promising to check in on you again in a few hours. 

The concerned look from Rossi as his bedside was almost too much to take. 

“Stop looking at me like that, Rossi,” he said, grumbling to himself, suddenly upset at the end of his delusions. 

“Like what? I'm not allowed to look at you now?” 

“You're not allowed to pity me. Where's everyone else? They're okay?” 

Rossi took a seat next to him and sighed.

“Hotch is in surgery - non-critical. They just want to be sure the shrapnel that landed in his leg didn't strike anywhere near a nerve or an artery. Morgan survived with a few bruises and scrapes that make him look even more like an action movie hero. He's coordinating with local law enforcement to catch out bomber.” 

Reid nodded along to each revelation, but his patience was growing thin. Rossi was watching him squirm. Reid, waiting for your name to pop up in conversation so he could talk about you, think about you with a valid excuse. 

“Emily and JJ are back at the motels, Penelope met them there to help them out. Emily's left arm is broken, and she has a nasty cut on her face, JJ twisted an ankle and sprained it pretty bad, so she'll be sitting for a while. I, myself, survived with pleasantly few cuts, a boon given my advancing years-” 

“Y/N, what about Y/N?” Reid finally burst, looking pathetically down at Rossi from his hospital bed. 

“Eager, aren't we?” 

“I need to know she's okay, and that... that she doesn't hate me.” 

“You can find those answers out yourself, kid. My shift is almost over.” 

Rossi stood and grabbed his cup of coffee, saluting Reid as he strolled out of the door. 

Reid was confused until the door opened again thirty seconds later, and you rushed in, breathing heavily as you took in his appearance, checking for damage. 

“Y/N,” he said, sitting up again. “Listen, I'm so, so sorry for kissing you yesterday. My mind must've been jumbled after the explosion and- and I thought you were actually my wife, and we were married-” 

You closed the distance between you quickly, grabbing his cheeks like he had grabbed tours only a day before and planting your lips back on top of his again. 

You kissed him the way you'd been kissed once before. With desperation, and longing, and relief. And when you pulled back, there were tears in your eyes that you didn't let fall, as you pressed yourself into Spencer Reid's arms. 

“Don't. Don't scare me like that again. I thought we'd lost you, I thought you'd kissed me and then - and then died!” You ranted, your arms gesturing wildly, every few seconds pausing to rake a hand through your hair. 

“You're not angry?” 

“Yes. Yes, I am angry, Spencer. You got hurt again, I'm seething.” 

“At me. You're not angry at me for kissing you?” He asked, smiling up as you goofily, a little bit worse for wear, but still shining nonetheless. 

“Oh. No. I was confused, but I'm not angry.” 

“Good,” he said, nodding, the two of you falling into an awkward, tense silence. You picked at dust on his shoulder as he stared at you, neither of you bold enough to say another word until the tension was palpable and Spencer Reid burst open. 

“Can I kiss you again?” 

[targaryen-dynasty]

ENCOURAGEMENT.

Daemon Targaryen x little sister!Reader

It's 105 AC. Your brother, King Viserys, wants to throw a feast in honor to announce his wife's pregnancy. You want to attend—if it weren't for the rising doubts about your changing body. But it's good your husband knows a way to ease your worries.

WARNINGS: SEXUAL CONTENT—MINORS DNI; canon typical incest/targcest (brother & sister), mirror sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, female and pregnant reader, lactation, lactation kink, nipple play

WORDS: 2.5 K

NOTES: Thank you for betaing this sweet thing, @happilyhertale! 🤍

❗️𝐚𝐝𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

Frustration brings you to the point you stand completely bare in front of the large mirror that’s been brought into your chambers by the servants, looking at your reflection. To the right hangs a black gown, and to the left a more reddish one. And neither of the two will fit over your swollen curves, you just know by looking at it.

You’ve scared off your ladies-in-waiting a few minutes ago, usually soft-spoken you experiencing an emotional outburst that just called for you to be left alone.

Nearing the six moon mark of your first pregnancy has left your body with scars and marks around your rounded belly and swollen breasts, some even teetering down the insides of your thighs. And yet, when you look at your husband strolling into your martial chambers with not more than a large cloth hanging around his hips, his scarred chest on full display, you can only admire him for wearing them with so much confidence.

But not even your own doubts can stop your eyes from stealing glances, his toned physique managing to put your mind at ease for once. Trailing your eyes over the expanse of his scarred chest down to the dark trail of hair that ends deep below the cloth that conceals most of it. However, it only poorly hides the way his half-hard member prods against the linen with each step he makes towards you.

He makes no secret out of the way his lilac eyes all but devour your body and its curves, although your belly is not yet as swollen as Aemma’s was when she was with Rhaenyra. The pregnancy has made you even more of a woman, and knowing he’s the one responsible for it makes him feel proud but also quite possessive.

“What is it?” he asks, his gravelly voice sending a chill down your spine.

Daemon eventually comes to a stop with his tall frame looming over yours from behind, fingers trailing over your side in an uncharacteristically tender and gentle manner. Every inch of your reflection is devoured by his greedy eyes. “We do not have to attend the feast, you know,” he says. “I wouldn’t dream of depriving myself of the pleasure of spending time with my wife.”

As he bows his head forward to press his lips to your shoulder, the soft strands of his silver hair tickle your skin, making you lean into his embrace and him reaching around you to splay a hand over your swollen belly.

“But I want to go. It’s the feast in honor of the queen announcing her pregnancy, and our brother will be cross with us if we do not attend,” you pout at him. “I just… I just don’t know which dress to choose.”

Daemon, however, knows full well that you’re being less than honest with him about your reluctance to go to the feast, becoming obvious when he starts to trace his fingers over the marks running across the underside of your bump. “That truly is a conundrum,” he says.

Sighing loudly, you try to escape his fingers by leaning further against him. But the friction your rear causes against the cloth is enough to loosen its tie, allowing it to fall to the ground.

The both of you are completely bare now, and he wastes no time in pressing his hard cock snugly into the crevice of your arse, making his desire for you more than clear.

“Let us forget the dresses for now. You know you’ll look ravishing no matter what you wear,” Daemon drawls, running a hand along your side. “Besides, why not allow me to appreciate every inch of you… no dresses involved.”

It sounds far too tempting… if you were in the mood. But with you struggling with your changing body for quite some time now, the thought of unraveling for him discourages you even more. “We do not have time,” you try to protest.

Much to your surprise, your usually insolent husband listens to your words.

“I think you’ll find that we have plenty of time, my love,” he mumbles, taking a step back with his hands raised in defeat. “The time we spend together would be much better than the time spent amongst a bunch of prudes at a feast.”

Not paying a mind to his words, you just nod appreciatively, and bring your attention back to the two gowns still hanging next to the mirror. Perhaps you can make the black one work with the laces tied extra loosely, and you only present at the feast for no longer than two hours.

Daemon stalks around you to stand next to the mirror, shamelessly dragging his eyes over your naked form and watching you inspect one of the dresses.

“Do you not have to dress yourself, husband?” you ask, pinching the fabric of the black dress between your fingers, trying not to pay too much attention to him. But his gaze is intense, burning straight through your skin, and making your body heat up.

You meet his eyes, cocking an eyebrow.

“There is a more important matter for me to tend to,” he objects.

“What are you–” you’re interrupted when your husband grabs the sides of the mirror and hoists it up, bringing it closer to your marital bed.

Turning on your heels, you watch him adjust it and eventually sit down on the bed with both feet planted firmly on the ground. The confusion must be evident on your features, because without a question uttered, Daemon pats his sturdy thigh and parts his legs, silently beckoning you over with a come-hither motion of his fingers.

The sight alone is alluring, his thick cock resting hard and heavy between his thighs, covered in an angry red and aching to be buried inside of you. But wanting to find out what he’s in mind is what brings you closer to him.

You move to climb his lap, wanting to sit astride him like you sit on Silverwing, but Daemon beats you to it. He scoots back slightly and brings his paws to your hips, turning you around. He pulls you back to sit down in the space between his parted legs.

When his hands hook beneath your knees to drape them over his thighs, inevitably exposing yourself to him, you instinctively lean back against him to adjust to the position.

You want to squeeze your thighs together, to hide from him, but his legs stop you from doing so. He brings a hand up to cup your full breast, squeezing lightly and testing the weight and shape of it. They’re full of milk by now, providing for your unborn child, and hard and heavy to the touch.

Pressing his lips to the curve of your shoulder, you tilt your head to the side, not daring to watch your fully exposed reflection in the mirror. You’ve been bare around him the whole time, and he’s fucked you in ways that would bring a blush to certain people’s faces, but something in the current position and your growing insecurities makes you more vulnerable right now.

Daemon adjusts his fingers so that your taut bud pops up between them, and just a bit of pressure is already enough to coax droplets of your milk to spill from it. Your breathing grows heavy, more so because it’s already enough friction to ease some of the tormenting tension.

“I want to see you full and lovely and large, swollen with my seed and carrying my child,” he mutters against your skin. His other hand comes up to cup your chin, pushing your head forwards to all but force you to look at yourself. “And I want you to watch as I worship that precious body of yours.”

The hand on your chin settles at your throat, not squeezing it but tight enough for it to be a warning for you not to move. The other hand releases your breast and trails down to the apex of your legs. It all happens agonizingly slowly, tracing and following every scar that runs along the curve of your bump, until it finally finds your cunt.

As his fingers drag through it, even your husband can’t seem to stop himself from moaning. “You’re weeping for me, my love,” he rasps, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. “So beautiful.” Withdrawing his fingers, they’re glistening with your arousal, connected by faint strings of it as he spreads his fingers.

You whimper, and dip your head back far enough for him to capture your lips. The kiss is sloppy, matching the rhythm he sets up as his fingers trace your cunt.

Daemon hums in approval as you pull away from him to look into the mirror, watching the exact moment his deft fingers ease into you. You gasp at the motion, and put all your weight back against him, melting into his embrace with his muscular arms around you.

There’s a pout on your lips when the pressure of his fingers leaves you again, used to spread apart your folds instead. In the reflection you see his dark blown eyes fixed on nothing else than what lies between your legs, his hard cock throbbing against your lower back as you clench around nothing. “Look how beautiful you look all spread out and ready for me, my love.”

Trying to squeeze your thighs shut, his hand comes from your throat to clasp around one, keeping you spread open for him. “Oh, don’t you dare,” he warns, causing a shiver to run down your spine.

With the heel of his hand pressing snugly against your pearl now, you can’t help but whimper as his fingers enter you again. The pace is slow and languid, making clear that neither of you is in a hurry tonight. It’s all about you.

“Seven hells, just look at you,” he coos against the side of your face, tip of his nose nudging your cheek. He clearly enjoys the confidence you slowly start to muster as his praises go straight to your head, coaxing you to rock your hips against his hand. “You truly have no idea of how much I desire you. Always.”

His words bring another wave of crimson to your cheeks, running down your neck and chest. It’s heaving with all the heavy breaths you inhale, and your taut buds have not softened since he touched them. If everything, his words and gestures have coaxed a few beads of milk to ooze from both, running down the curve of your breasts.

Reaching behind you, your hand rests at the back of his head, entangling into his long, silver hair. “Daemon–” you whimper, but he’s quick to silence you.

“Shush now,” he rasps. “Just enjoy and observe.”

And you certainly do, watching his fingers pump in and out of you as if it’s the most enthralling thing you’ve ever seen.

When he’s sure you’ll keep your legs spread for him, he brings his hand to your full breast again, groping and squeezing it, pinching the little bud to tease even more milk to spill from it.

It’s so much coming together at once. His praise goes straight to your head, making it hazy and longing for more, while liquid fire courses through your veins, ignited by the skilled ministrations of his fingers.

Daemon seems to sense your impending peak, and is determined to work you toward the sweet relief you so desperately crave.

The pace of his fingers increases now, fingers repeatedly brushing the sweet spot inside of you that makes your vision blurry. Pleasure soars through your body, and eventually is enough to snap the familiar knot inside of your belly. And that’s also the moment you can’t watch yourself any longer. The pleasure grows to the point you have to close your eyes to be able to thoroughly enjoy it. But your husband doesn’t seem to mind.

“There you go,” he coos, not slowing down the pace of his hands. “Such a good girl.”

Your walls convulse all over Daemon’s fingers, and with you releasing the sweetest and most desperate sounds your husband has heard in a while, he’s sure he could’ve peaked on spot, more so with the vice-like grip you have on his long hair.

His hand works you through the waves of euphoria, just slightly slowing down, and while your mind doesn’t process some of the praises he mumbles against your skin, your body does; with a renewed wave of arousal dripping out of your cunt.

It’s surprising that the pleasure doesn’t get replaced by overstimulation, especially with just how little time he gives you to recover until he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you at a harsher pace again.

“Gods be good,” you whimper, tipping your head back against his shoulder. Your hand releases his hair and instead you grab his forearm with both, clinging onto it for dear life.

“One more for me, you’re doing so good.”

You have barely time to process the first peak and its repercussions when the second washes over you in an ambush, striking you like lightning. It’s not as intense as the first, but prolonged with his other hand now frantically rubbing your pearl.

“Shh, just let it happen,” he purrs, pressing sloppy kisses to your cheek as you struggle against him.

It takes just a few more pumps of his hand until the pleasure subsides, only leaving a wave of bliss in its wake. Daemon’s hands both stop their ministrations, and you finally feel as though you’re able to breathe again.

As you open your eyes, you see him lick the remnants of your arousal off his fingers, before they tease your buds again, gathering some of your milk to lick off of them as well.

Whimpering and whining at the touch, you just slowly catch your breath. He soothes you by snaking both arms around your form, cupping your swollen belly, and presses gentle kisses to the side of your face.

“You’re an absolute vision in this state, and I do not wish for you to ever doubt that,” he mutters against your skin. “You look more desirable carrying my child, than any other woman does in their most provocative dress.”

Releasing a soft chuckle, you turn your head and capture his lips with yours. A chaste peck is not what he has anticipated, but he’s still happy that he was able to lift your spirits.

“Kirimvose, ñuha jorrāelagon,” you whisper. “Care to help me with the black dress?” Thank you, my love.

“Oh, I will,” Daemon says with a teasing lilt in his voice. He grabs you by the waist and carefully hoists you up, but when he lies you down on your back, you know you won’t be getting into the dress so soon. “But I think I need just a little more time to get fully into the spirit of the occasion.”

The moment he climbs on the bed to kiss his way over your marks and curves, you squeal and squirm, entangling your hands into his hair again.

Viserys can never be angry with you two for long anyway.

[ashlynlovestlou]

abby x anxious! virgin! reader

synopsis: abby teaches her an anxiety-ridden virgin girlfriend how to have sex.

cw: NSFW , abby x reader , smut , abby talks you through it , thigh riding , sub! reader , soft dom! abby , afab! reader , dry humping , use of pet names

masterlist

abby's been your girlfriend for a few months now, but you've been putting off having sex with her. solely because of your stupid nerves.

the thought of being naked in front of someone, then hearing your noises and seeing your face and touching your most intimate spots that nobody has reached before. it made you panic just thinking about it.

but abby knew of your fears. she was patient, and she cared about you more than anything on god's green earth.

so when your twice-weekly date came around on a friday night, something felt off. you'd been horny before, and usually you knew how to take care of it, but not quite like this. your legs were tingling and there was an ache where aches shouldn't be.

of course abby, being the observant girlfriend she is, noticed your squirming halfway through the movie the two of you were watching.

"what's wrong, baby?" she asks, looking down at you with a furrowed brow.

"huh? nothing." you respond quickly, crossing your legs and leaning against her shoulder.

abby knew better than to believe you, "you okay? you seem squirmy."

"i'm okay." you respond, a little too quickly. her suspicions only rose because of your soft and nervous tone, "just feel a little weird."

"weird how? you got a stomach ache?"

"no."

"then what–" she stops what she's saying, a shit-eating grin growing on her face, "oh."

you don't respond, biting your bottom lip and unsure what to do. you could sneak away to the bathroom to try to get off on your own. but you know abby has been waiting so patiently for this moment.

"youre horny, yeah?"

your heart sinks in your chest. it took you a moment to realize how she figured it out so quickly. she saw your squirms and the way your thighs flexed every once in a while, trying to create some friction for yourself.

she spreads her thighs apart a bit, creating a perfect manspread. she taps her lap, "come sit. let me take care of it for you."

"abby, i dunno.."

"baby." she says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, "i promise i can make you feel so much better than your pillow can. c'mon, sweet pea."

you hesitate, nibbling on your bottom lip. your heart was in your throat, and you were fidgeting with your earlobe. one of your anxious habits.

she tugs your hand away from your ear, kissing your knuckles. she gently tugs you forward into her, "i won't hurt you, sweet girl. c'mon, honey." she guides you by the hips to straddle her lap. she rubs her thumbs up and down the soft plush of your thighs, "let me show you, okay?"

you nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. she takes her shirt off first so that you don't feel embarrassed to do the same. once she's down to her black sports bra she slowly takes yours off too, giving you time to stop her if you wanted.

but you don't, so she keeps going.

once the two of you are both in your underwear, her warm and bulky hands settle on your hips, "you okay?"

you nod, unsure where to put your hands. she notices this and laughs softly, "i'll walk you through it, okay?"

"okay..."

"tell me what you do to your little pillow when you feel like this, baby."

"i.. um.." you struggle to get the words out, your cheeks red from embarrassment, "i put it between my legs."

"hmm.." she hums, "then what?"

"i like.. clamp it there."

she plays with your hair, her entire hand embracing the side of your head, "and it makes you feel good? riding your little pillow?" you nod sheepishly, resting your head on her shoulder, "show me."

"what?"

"i want you to make yourself feel good. i know you wanna." she says, kissing your hairline.

"abby, i dont know how–"

she gives your hips a little squeeze, starting to guide you to grind on her lap. the cloth of her boxers rubs against the sheer fabric of your lacy panties, the feeling alone making you gush. you whimper as you feel yourself getting wetter. you're tempted to get off her lap so she doesn't feel the dampness coming from your cunt. she notices you starting to hover, so she pulls you back down. "don't be embarrassed. i want to see you feel good." she guides your hips to move a bit faster, and you moan in response, "can i touch you?"

you look at her, confused because she's already touching you.

she glances down at your crotch rubbing against her lap, then she looks back up at you, "down there, sweet girl. please, honey. wanna feel how wet you are."

you nod, your nerves starting to dissipate.

she snakes a hand down your stomach, her fingertips sliding into your panties. when the pads of her fingers meet your folds she groans, "oh, baby... you ever been this wet before?"

you shake your head, rubbing yourself against her digits.

"there you go, grind down just like that, mhm."

her words of encouragement make you speed up a little bit. she beams at you, so proud that her girl is finally comfortable enough to let her feel you in such an intimate place.

"gonna go inside, okay?" she says before slipping two of her fingers inside your sopping cunt. you moan at the intrusion, your movements switching from back and forth to up and down.

abby chuckles, kissing your cheek. she's so happy that she can finally see her baby in this light. on her lap, a moaning mess, "you're so pretty, mama."

you smile and open your eyes to look at abby. she pecks your forehead, rubbing tight circles around your swollen bud. you clean around her and she pulls you closer so your chest is flush against hers. she knew you were close before you did, guiding your hips to bounce on her fingers faster.

when you finally come undone you mutter tens of 'thank you's' into her ear. you'd made yourself feel good many times, but you'd never felt quite like this.

"thank you, abby." you whisper to her.

she nods in response, "no need to thank me. next time you feel like that, you come to me, m'kay?"

you hum in agreement, closing your eyes and starting to drift to sleep.

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

To be perceived: Husband!Nanami x Reader

“I don’t feel good in anything!” Your clothes are strewn around the room, victims of your self-image. Nanami holds up a dress, raising an eyebrow in a silent offer. You shake your head. “That hasn’t fit in years!”

He sits down heavily on the bed, surveying the emptied drawers and your increasingly desperate face. He tries discreetly to check his watch. He’ll call and move the reservations back, no problem.

You take off the latest rejected outfit and sit down helplessly in the middle of the room. “Kento, I’m an ugly slug.” Your husband joins you on the floor, wrapping both arms around you.

“You’re a beautiful slug, dear.”

You laugh and lean your head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, I know we’re running late…”

He kisses the top of your head. “Don’t worry about it. I just want you to feel good. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, my love.”

“Sometimes I wish I didn’t have to be perceived, you know?”

Nanami nods thoughtfully. “I can’t make that happen, but maybe I could help distract people. Make it so you’re not the one they’re staring at.”

You turn to look up at him. “What do you mean? You’re wearing your scheming face…”

“Don’t worry, angel. You just finish getting ready and leave it to me, okay?” He disappears into the bathroom.

In a few minutes, you’re feeling a bit better. You’ve put on a comfortable outfit and done your makeup. Nanami’s voice is muffled from behind the door. “Are you ready, darling?”

“Yes, ready when you are!” You call back.

Your husband emerges from the bathroom, a confident smile on his chiseled face. Your mind short-circuits for a moment, not sure what to focus on first- the shock of blonde hair slipping over one eye, the expertly applied black eyeliner, or the skirt swaying around his muscled thighs. He looks beautiful.

“Kento, what is this?” You squint. “Is that my eyeliner?”

“No, it’s mine,” he says easily. “I’ve had it since high school.”

“And the hair? I’ve never seen you without it gelled up…”

He blushes a little at that. “Also high school.”

You shake your head in disbelief, your heart racing at the unexpected transformation. “Well I know that’s my skirt,” you giggle.

“Ah, yes. That’s correct. I found one with an elastic waist, so I could fit- but I’ll change if you mind me using it.”

“No, not at all!” You reassure quickly. He has a good eye for fashion, despite his usual insistence on a leopard-print tie. He’s paired the skirt with one of his own button-downs, sleeves rolled up over his ropy forearms. You step forward, cupping his cheek in your hand.

“You like it, then?” He asks softly.

“You’re beautiful,” you sigh. “But what’s this all about?”

He chuckles. “I figured that although you look stunning as ever, I might get a little more attention than you tonight. Help with the whole ‘being perceived’ bit.”

You laugh and lean up on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek, careful not to muss his hair. “You’re an angel. A sexy, stylish angel.”

“As long as I’m yours,” he murmurs. “Now. I’ve moved our reservations once, let’s not be late for them again, hm?”

Nanami’s theory was correct. Every eye in the fancy restaurant is on him as the two of you are escorted to your table. Some stares are admiring, some judgmental, but he’s completely unbothered. He looks at you from across the table as if you’re the only other person in the world.

You clink your wine glasses together. “To my beautiful wife,” he smiles.

“To my beautiful husband,” you smile back.

[mysicklove]

summary: Sukuna might not be the best older brother, but at least Yuuji doesnt seem to mind.

wc: 1.6k

a/n: wrote this instead of kinktober. oopsies. i was feeling soft, ok? leave me alone.

big brother au masterlist

Two little fists bang at the door and you find yourself awoken from your sleep. In your half-sleep state, you manage to hear the desperate rattling of a door, and you furrow your eyebrows. Then, a sniffle, and a broken sob. “Brotherrrrr!”

“No Yuuji!” Sukunas voice echoes in your shared room, and at this, you seem to jump awake. Sukuna, turns his stare from the door back to you, and his lips curl upward. “You awake? C’mon lets go for round two. Been waiting hours.”

You pull yourself up, ignoring the suggestive kisses that your lover places down your neck. Another cry is let out from behind the door, and more pounding. “I-I'll be a good boy! Please, please, please Kuna!”

Sukuna growls into your neck, pulling away and yelling back a, “Yuuji, I told you it's adult time. Go watch your cartoons before you piss me off!”

A whined, “Noooooooo!” Is let out, and Yuuji by now must be sobbing, clawing at the door like some sort of puppy.

You turn to Sukuna, and his cocky smile returns, leaning forward to press more kisses along your cheek. You pull away, a scowl on your face, and he groans knowing what's to come. “Aw cmon, don't be mad. You promised me we would go again. ‘ts not my fault the brat is a clinger, Uraume is supposed to be watching him.”

You pull the sheets away from your body and Sukuna makes a noise of complaint. “Hand me your shirt,” You demand, pulling on your underwear as quickly as possible. He rolls his eyes at your tone, but pulls the cloth over his head and throws it to you. You are quick to put it on, satisfied when it comes just above your knees. 

Then you pad over to the door, while Sukuna sighs, and pinches his brows. He isn't getting lucky for nights to come, you've already decided.

When you open it, you find Sukunas four year old brother standing with his bunny stuffed animal, and tears streaming down his face. When he finally processes that its you, he immediately drops the bunny, and stumbles over to you as quickly as he can, the cries coming louder. His arms shoot up and he is warbling a, “Up! Up!”

You are quick to abide by his request, picking him up and pressing the boys body to yours, and shushing him when he sobs into your neck. Your hands run through the near identical pink hair, and you mumble out a, “I know, I know. Sukuna is so mean. Its okay. Shhhh, don't cry.”

The boy fails to listen, and you don't blame him. He must have been really hurt by his brother blatantly ignoring him. You glare at your lover as you make your way back toward the bed. He holds his hands up sheepishly, and you roll your eyes. You crawl back into bed, resting your back on the headboard, while the four year old straddles your lap, crying into Sukunas shirt.

“You coddle him too much,” The pink haired man complains, glancing at his brother who was staining his shirt.

You scoff at him, continuing to run your fingers through the boys hair as he finally begins to calm down from his wish being granted. “So you were going to let him just cry out there?”

“It's what our parents did to me, and I turned out just fine.” You bite back a frown, but place a comforting hand on his own. His eyes flicker to you, and he nods, not saying anything. You are glad their parents are gone, and he is too. Although being left to raise his brother was more tedious than he thought, to Sukuna at least.

The last of Yuuji's tears fall, and you wipe them away with a small smile. The boy leans into your hand, loving every second of physical touch. He always seemed to want to be touching one of the two of you, whether it by means of having you carry him, or him very tentatively asking his brother to hold his hand. In those moments, Yuujis smile seems to be the brightest. 

The puffy eyed kid turns to Sukuna, while continously holding onto your arm so that you don't stop your petting. “Brother is so mean!” Yuuji complains in a high voice, but he doesnt sound upset, only mimicking what you told him earlier. In fact, a smile was already beginning to creep on the boys face, already forgetting about the situation. 

A playful finger jabs into the boys chest, and the boy squeals with delight. “Wouldn't be mean if you weren't such a brat.”

Yuuji shakes his head, a massive grin plastered to his face. “Nuh-uh! You are brat!”

Sukuna raises his eyebrows and you chuckle, nodding at the boy with approval. “Tell me about it,” You encourage, and the boy in turn giggles, liking that you took to his side. 

The older of the two holds a predatory smile, and you raise your eyebrows. “You wanna say that again, kid?”

Yuuji doesnt understand threats, nor does he know that brat is considered an insult. “Brother Kuna is brat! Like me!”

Sukuna’s hands dart out to your lap, and make their way to Yuujis sides, quickly running his fingers over the skin. The boy squeals again, and then begins to frantically giggle at the ticklish feeling. Your lover's hands are tortuous on the boy, and in turn Yuuji's laugh begins to echo in the room, as he tries to squirm away. “No! Kuna! No!” He squeals, tiny fingers clawing into you as he tries to seek help from you. 

His brother holds a small smile too, obviously trying to hold the cold front, but can't when hearing the infectious laugh. Eventually, when Yuuji seems to be loosing airflow from all his laughing, you defend the boy, batting away your lovers hands from his small body. Yuuji comes collapsing into your abdomen, trying to catch his breath, but smiling non the less. You stare fondly at him.

Sukuna, on the other hand, manages to find a paper folded in Yuujis pocket. He glances at the kid, who is already watching him with pure adoration. The kid had a huge problem of idolizing his older brother, even after being tortured by tickling and left outside the room.

Yuuji points to the paper. “Gift!”

“Did you draw us something?” You question, tapping on Yuujis nose. He smiles and nods, squirming in excitement for you guys to see.

Your lover unfolds the paper, glancing at you with a bored expression. You read right through him though. He is curious to see what his brother made, you just know it. Yuuji's hands grips onto your shirt.

Inside is three stick figures, obviously drawn by a young child. Some of the heads are too big, and they are drawn with purple crayon, sloppy, but made with love. There is a little figure in the middle, coated with pink hair, and holding onto two taller peoples hands. On his left side is a carbon copy of the little one, also with pink hair, but frowning. On his right, was the color of your hair made sloppily with marker, and a smile big enough to match Yuujis. Cute.

“That ones me!” Yuuji exclaims, pointing to the little figure in the middle. 

“I couldn't tell,” Sukuna says very much sarcastically. Yuuji doesnt understand it, so he beams with pride, excited at the idea of possibly being compared to his brother that he idolizes so.

The boy giggles, and turns to you for confirmation. “Do me and brother look alike?”

You hum in thought, dramatically tapping your chin. “Definitely. But, one of you guys happens to be way cuter than the other though.” Before Yuuji can ask who, you lean forward and blow raspberries on his stomach, chuckling when more squeals and giggles come tumbling out. Sukuna hides a smile.

A second later Yuuji comes flying out of your lap and into Sukunas. The older grabs him forcefully by the hood of his jacket, like a mother cat does to its kittens. You roll your eyes at the treatment, knowing well that Sukuna by now knows how to hold a child. But the boy doesn't mind, now sitting contently in Sukunas lap and staring up at him. “You wanna look like me?”

“Yes!”

“Good.” Sukuna licks his hand, and you furrow your eyebrows. Then he very much too forcibly runs his fingers through Yuuji's hair. You jump watching the boy nearly collapse backward at the motion of his hands, but braces himself. Sukuna has a really bad problem of treating his brother with a little to much force than what a child should be used to. But Yuuji was a strong kid, so he never barked a lick of complaint – it was only you that were biting your fingers with nerves. 

Sukuna brushes the pink hair backward, similar to his hair cut. Then he uses more saliva to spike it up. Once finished he nods at the kid, content with the hair that looks identical to his.

“Alright. Good. Now go grab a sharpie, we gotta give you some tattoes.”

Yuuji borderline has a tantrum when you tell him why you can't do that, while Sukuna laughs the entire time. But, the two of you compromise, and now there is a picture hung in Sukunas room where Yuuji is coated with black marker tattoos, identical to his brother.