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grimmsbride · 2 months ago

Text

LOVERS ROCK [ daisuke / reader ]

keeping your relationship a secret from your coworkers was no doubt; thrilling. and also, very, very challenging. it didn’t help the two of you just loved to push your limits

notes / #bringbackdryhumping | reader is the same janitor reader in my previous fic (obviously). i got this idea randomly, daisuke seems like the type to take his partner to scenic places for dates. and well.. the nighttime screen is about as scenic as it gets on the tulpar. i hope you enjoy and as usual please excuse any grammar mistakes or typos 🫶🏾. i feel i made him very ooc, i’m used to see daisuke smut being quite submissive to the reader so i wanted to go a different approach.. i think in situations like this he may be a little more confident, especially if his partner is reciprocating to the feeling. if you have any thoughts on the manner let me know <3

The Tulpar was filled with mundane tasks. Wake up, clean, eat, shower, and go back to sleep— a routine that’s been ingrained into your body. A continuous cycle that would have bored you to death without your beloved music. You were grateful for your position, no matter how minuscule, yet you couldn’t deny the wish for something more.

And luckily it came true; in the form of a young man nonetheless.

You weren’t one to mix business and pleasure, it just seemed like a disaster waiting to happen. Coming across Tulpar and the demographic you expected to be on the ship — older people that certainly weren’t your type — you were quite confident you wouldn’t go against your usual code. But alas, you surprised yourself while falling for a certain intern.

As bright eyed and slightly clueless he was, Daisuke was a pocket of sunshine you’ve come to truly adore. Always there when he can be, even if it means a quick kiss when you’re cleaning or a gentle pinch when passing by to remind you of who was in your corner.

Keeping your growing relationship a secret from your coworkers was troublesome but extremely necessary. You couldn’t imagine the expressions the others would display, especially Jimmy who just seemed to be far too eager to stomp on just about anyone's happiness; no matter the size.

Still, you couldn’t deny how thrilling it was at times. Pulling your partner into a quiet dark corner for a few extra kisses, or the secret looks the two of you gave each when in a public setting. The line was thinning longer and longer, close calls increasing as time passed.

And yet here you were, seated upon the living room couch; waiting for your beloved Daisuke.

Usually if the two of you wanted alone time when everyone was asleep you alternated between your bedrooms. At least there, there was a door and bed. But for some reason, Daisuke was adamant on spending some time out here; underneath the pretty nighttime screen.

Your eyes stared up at the blues and whites, head leaning back against the shoulder of the couch as music poured into your ears. Your thumb traced the little device, perfectly at ease.

That was until something delicately traced the back of your neck.

You swallowed a yelp, quickly turning with a jump to glare at the one responsible— who only grinned back at you.

“Daisuke! What if I had yelled?”

You stood up from the couch, watching the man walk around the before waltzing down the little steps. Within two strides he was standing in front of you, glancing down at you with the sweetest smile.

“But you didn't!” Daisuke chuckled the moment you lightly shoved his chest, catching your wrist in time before you could move it away. In doing so, he locked your fingers whilst his free hand went for the earbud occupying one of your ears. Pulling it out, the man then lifted it to his own, bringing himself closer to your form.

You met him, unoccupied hand sliding up to wrap your arm around his waist, laying your head against his chest. Between the melody of his heart beat and Tv Girl running through your ears, you were at complete bliss. As if you could fall asleep right then and there.

The two of you swayed, allowing yourselves to get caught up in each other rather than your surroundings. You felt his free hand sneak underneath your arm, pulling it higher until your hand was on top of his shoulder. After which, Daisuke’s hand found your waist, tugging you even closer and actually adding moves to your swaying.

You snorted softly, mumbling softly about him being corny to which the man only laughed. Silence continued after as the two of you danced slowly, carefully, as to hopefully not alert the others of your rather embarrassing nightly activities.

A step, another, and then a graceful stride. You wondered if Daisuke danced a lot back home. The thought caused you to laugh once again, just in time for your lover to twirl you.

Slithering his arm tighter around your waist, he pulled your back to his front, face being shoved into your neck.

Your eyes peeled open, staring up at the nighttime screen that stared back at you. “Dancing under the stars, huh?..”

“A perfect date.”

You smiled at his words, hand rose to reach back and lightly fuss with his hair. “Yeah, all girls love dancing at work while watching a blown up image of a fake sky.”

Daisuke laughed into your ear, the pitch perfectly going along with the music you shared.

“I told my dad I knew what the ladies wanted.”

You groaned softly, teetering between amusement and playful annoyance. You turned around in his hold, hands rising to hold his warm cheeks.

“You’re corny..”

Daisuke smiled, thumb tracing the small of your back, messing with the fabric of the top you wore. “And lucky for me, you’re into it.” You didn’t need to agree nor deny, given the sweet kiss you pressed to his lips was answer enough. He kneeled to meet you fully, tugging you so close as if wishing to melt into you. Your noses brushed against each other, cold tips warming as you consumed one another. You loved kissing Daisuke, not just because he was your boyfriend but more-so cause he was a damned good kisser.

His lips always moved so slow at first, before slowly picking up the longer you continued. A hand rose from your back to instead cup the back of your head, a shiver running down your spine the moment his fingers traced up your scalp; messing in your hair.

So desperate.. you two always were. The thought of any interruptions spurred you on to always savor each and every moment with as much as passion as possible.

And it seemed the both of you intended to do just that, as — ever so carefully — Daisuke walked backwards, leading you with him. Once close enough he was descending to the couch, taking you with him by the waist and pulling you onto his lap.

The two of you broke apart for a moment, gulping up the air around you greedily before smashing your lips together with even more vigor. Your hands were clutching his shoulders at this point, suddenly being reminded Daisuke wasn’t just some clueless man.

You shivered as you felt his hand glide, intruding your top to lay his fingers upon your warm skin. With each interlock of your tongues his fingers were digging into your flesh, a soft whine being pushed from his throat into your mouth. The sound alone caused your thighs to clench, moving carefully in his lap.

Which of course, was met with a hiss and a quick squeeze. You questioned this for a moment, before quickly realizing why it happened in the first place.

This only caused you to smile against him, lowering your hips fully before dragging them against him slowly.

Daisuke was off your lips in minutes, hands falling to your waist as a hushed groan escaped his bruised lips.

“Here?..” The man spoke gently, eyes flicking from between your bodies before back to your face. His eyebrows furrowed as you continued your languid drags, biting the inside of his cheek nervously.

You nodded slowly, leaning closer to press your lips to his ear. “Mhm.. here.”

“Then.. I want to feel— more. Please.” His words were sweet, allowing them to settle in the air for a moment before his fingers were curling to tug at your pants, allowing you to get the message. You stood up rather quickly, pushing your pants down and off, the bottoms pooling at your ankles.

You watched as Daisuke did the same, now only in plain boxers, a funny contrast to the gaudy everyday shirt he usually wore.

Stepping out of your pants, you caught his hands as you made your way back to his lap, brushing your clothed cunt right against his growing bulge as you sat down. It was your time to whine as you felt him through your thin fabrics, Daisuke capturing your lips rather quickly afterwards.

Slowly, you began that same languid pace, gripping his shoulders for stability as you dragged your hips back and forth.. back and forth. His nails were digging into your thighs, meeting your movement with a small, desperate thrust. Moans passed between the two of you, warmth, and music mixing into a sensation that you could only describe as euphoria.

Dramatic sure, but what else could you call it, exactly?

“Could come.. ju—just from this.” Daisuke mumbled the moment the two of you broke apart for air, his face falling to your neck to stamp wet kisses to your skin. He was gentle not to focus too much on a single area, worrying about leaving behind a mark. Though, it seemed rather contradictory given the location the two of you chose for your.. fun.

You were aching, panties surely soaked with arousal as that itch grew. You could only pant in his ear, unsure how exactly this felt so good. Maybe it was pent up, a mixture of stress and the misfortune of lack of alone time. Regardless, it wasn’t your job to figure it out at the moment.

The only job you had right now was to continue to chase this feeling, for as long as you could.

Daisuke pulled you closer if humanly possible, hips rising up from the couch as he ground up into you. He wasn’t lying early, despite zero actual contact he could feel himself twitching— begging for release. The effect you had on him was far too great, after all.

Desperate breaths escaped you, thighs shaky yet yearning for more. His touch, everything, you wanted to feel it all. Your fingers rose to curl into his hair, leaning into his ear as the softest more, dropped from your tongue.

Your words spurred him, fingers squeezing your flesh, nails tracing against those pretty marks that lined your hips.

“You want more?.. Of course, whatever you want.”

Daisuke could never deny you, no matter how small the request was. In minutes he was tugging his boxers down to his thighs, hand lazily dragging across his length. It was a pretty color, lighter than him, with a mole on the under side of his shaft.

The man then reached with his other hand to curl his finger on your panty, tugging it to the side and exposing your soft cunt to his hand. For a moment his finger gently circled your hardened bud, enjoy the pleasant noises you struggled to keep down.

But soon enough he was becoming as desperate as you, helping you position carefully, rubbing his weeping tip against your clit. Daisuke hissed, continuing to coat his dick in your arousal before finding your entrance, lining up, and raising his hips to push himself inside.

The both of you groaned, your eyes pinched closed as you sunk down. Your walls wrapped around his length perfectly, swallowing him up and keeping him deep inside. With each breath you released you clenched, causing the young man under you to struggle to keep his mind straight. Daisuke couldn’t help being so inexperienced, and well.. neither could you, given you felt a single movement would be enough to push you over the edge.

Your eyes slowly opened, gaze falling to his face, taking the time to map out his expression. Would it be corny to call him beautiful? Was it corny to find your lover beautiful in a such state? Under your mercy, as close as biologically possible? Maybe.. but you didn’t dwell on it long, instead deciding to graze your palms across his cheeks, thumbs coming to trace the moles on either side.

“I love you.”

Your words were earnest, laced with the sweetest honey. You smiled, watching his own signature smile cross his face, perfectly. Like any other time.

Daisuke pulled you even closer, a grip to your thigh as he leaned to just a breath’s away.

“See. Now you’re the corny one.”

Your lover swallowed the pretty laughter threatening to leave your chest, all smiles as his arms wrapped around your waist. Once tucked close and snug, his hips, the small thrust enough for the both of you to sigh into the other’s mouth.

Soon enough your knees were pressing against the cushions, hips rising and falling into his lap. With each drop, wet skin smacked against each other, certainly a worrying sound but the two of you seemed to no longer care.

You were too caught up in each other anyway.

Your fingers curled into his silky locks, crying out into his mouth as he stirred you up deeply. His length hit each spot perfectly, a mold made specifically for you. And what’s more, the moment a hand snaked under your skirt to drag his thumb across your nipple— you began to see stars.

Daisuke groaned into you, meeting each drop of your hips with desperate thrusts. You felt so good, way too good. He tried to keep his voice down as to avoid alerting the others, and hear you. You just sounded far too good to ignore.

Your shaky breaths, the way your voice pitched whenever his tip brushed against that special spot — don’t even get him started on the gasps you made when Daisuke went, just a little too deep. Alas he couldn’t focus on the growing list of reasons for his obsession you; bringing you complete pleasure was the main objective.

“You’re clenching me.. you’re going to come, aren’t you?” Daisuke drawled against your lips, pressing a kiss to them before dragging his own over to your ear. Each pant and groan hit it directly, the man at this point helping you rise and fall upon his cock.

“I want you to finish.. all over me.”

“Daisuke—!”

“Not so loud..” The intern spoke in a soft rasp, squeezing you close as his end grew closer. “I don’t need the others to hear you like this. It’s on—only for me, yeah?”

You shook your head rapidly, lip nearly bleeding from how hard you were biting down, your fingers digging into his shoulders— sure to leaves marks despite the shirt he wore.

Within moments you were seeing white, clutching him as you fulfilled his wish. Your arousal coated his dick and thighs, making a sticky mess that was surely on the couch by now.

Daisuke swore under his breath, bringing you onto his lap in one final thrust before filling you up. Luckily he remembered you took the pill as to regulate your period.

The two of you panted, in sync with each other and the music that seemed to still be blasting in your ears. How exactly your earbuds sustained that erratic movement, you will never know nor question.

You pulled back to glance at Daisuke, spotting the man already looking at you, smiling brightly.

You rolled your eyes, glancing down at the space between your two bodies.

“This is going to be so annoying to clean.”

Daisuke stifled his laughter, pulling you into a tight hug, eyes shining whilst he stared up at the screen;

“Maybe… I love you too, [Name].”

846 notes · View notes

hoshigray · 11 months ago

Note

hey!! I love you works=) Can I request a fem!chubby(optional)reader x gojo,where gojo is her mean roommate and after a night when he had fun with a random girl and reader couldn't sleep because of it she confront him and he shows her how much he loves-hates her (NSWF if you can,when I say love-hate I mean he loves her,but she is not afraid to attack his ego so he finds this quite annoying) I truly understand if you don't want to write and I respect your decision =) I just say to try my luck and see if you like the idea

lol well, I'm lucky to have time to indulge in this idea, so why not? hope i did this right...

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: Gojo x roommate! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - the reader can be read as chubby or not - implied mutual feelings/pining - kissing/making out - teasing - fingering (f! receiving) - oral (f! receiving) - clitoral play (swiping and licking) - doggy style + missionary position - unprotected sex (psa: wrap it up or get tf up) - Gojo being a bit whipped for you - pet names (angel, baby, princess, sweetie) - implied usage of alcohol - mention of saliva/drool. 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3.1k

“God, you can be such a fucking dumbass…Who told you to drink so much?”

“Listen–hic–I was just being the life of the party. Plus, gotta impress the ladies~”

“Oh, for God’s sake, just eat your damn mocha bread.”

Lying on the living room couch with you sitting on your knees on the carpet, tending to his drunken state, was not something Satoru Gojo had planned. It was supposed to be a chill night at the club with the guys – Geto, Nanami, and Haibara – yet he somehow found his way to the dance floor and danced like a rock star, drinking like a fish from taking up all the shots bought by all the women infatuated by him. What can he say; he could never refuse the ladies, even if he doesn’t like alcohol.

However, he’ll admit he might have overdone it and puked in the club bathroom for a solid 20 minutes before his friends decided it was time to go. You opened your apartment door to your roommate being carried by Haibara and Geto, the dark-haired men apologizing for the inconvenience at the late hour after dropping their friend on the couch and leaving you to deal with the tipsy fool.

Although, with him dealing with the raging headache and horrid acid from the vomit earlier ruining his tastebuds, Gojo would say this wasn’t all too bad. Why? Well, now he has his cute roommate to look after him like they always do.

Although he feels a bit bad that you were up to see him at this ungodly hour, watching you sitting beside him and feeding him his favorite snack to ease his subsiding intoxication made him feel warm. The little pout on your face as you break apart pieces of the mocha bread to feed into his mouth, your gorgeous eyes examining him to see if he’s okay, and your cute pajamas comprised of an oversized shirt and some shorts. If it meant being treated by you like this, the snow-haired man figured he ought to get drunk more often.

The only problem was you nagging at him like he was a child, grabbing for his hand to hold the glass of water on his own. “Drink; I don’t want you puking on my carpet.” Yup, you were his roommate, all right.

He rolled his eyes while taking a sip. “You’re supposed to be talking all sweet and slow to me here because my head’s going at sixty miles an hour. Aren’t you supposed to be sympathetic to the weak?”

You scoffed. “Oh please, you are not weak; you’re just dumb enough to drink whatever thing some pretty girl gives you.”

“Hmph,” He puffs at you, evoking your eye to twitch. “Well, maybe I should just go back to the venue and find that pretty lady who was dancing with me all night!” He takes a bite of some more mocha bread. “I’m sure she’d be nice enough to minister to my drunk self.”

That was a lie. There was a lady he was dancing with, the same lady who hung out with the guys at the club and had a good time with them. The woman was a wild and entertaining girl, Gojo will admit. But in all aspects, she was just there; she was nothing. If anything, Gojo wished that you were there instead of her. You were busy with work, opting to sit this out and maybe go with the guys the next time.

And although he didn’t try to argue (outside of pestering you in giving in and coming along), he couldn’t get his mind off you while he was away. You were all he could think about, wondering if you were okay or if you remembered to eat dinner. Or just imagining you being with him, wearing something nice and letting loose around his friends – around him. Fuck, just visioning him and you dancing together would’ve been such a treat and probably saved his poor liver and stomach from all the alcohol.

Instead, he’s spending the last moments of his late-night high with you, who should be sleeping. You say to him, “Would you?”

He draws his brows upwards. “Hmm?”

“Would you go back?” he now notices the look on your face, as if you’re going back and forth with something internally. “I mean, probably not because I’m sure whoever has to deal with you can’t feed you your favorite bread.”

He hums, taking note of your expression and your fingers playing with the edge of his plate. “Why do you ask?”

“Because Nanami called me earlier when you were getting a little too wild, like, five shots in,” The number throws the man in a whirlwind; damn, I had more than five? “And he told me you were so tipsy and touchy that you couldn’t stop asking about me. Like, ‘Where’s Y/n’ or ‘Man, I wish Y/n was here; they love this song.’”

Did I say that? “I said that?” A curt nod is given to Gojo, and he presses his lips to a thin line. Ah, shit.

“All I’m saying is,” you continue with a pout. “It would be pretty scummy of you to say you’d wanna hang with another woman and then turn around and worry about me, for whatever reason.”

Sky-blue eyes observe yours downcasted to the plate with the sweet bread. He couldn’t ignore how cute you avoided his gaze — it’s what prompted him to say this: “…There is a reason.”

“Hmm?”

“I didn’t worry about you for nothing,” you watch the white-haired man bring his upper body up from the couch with his elbows. His face is now a foot away from yours, close enough for you to see the earnest glint in his eyes under the soft, warm glow of the ceiling lighting. “Nothing is for ‘whatever’ reason if it’s with you.”

Your brows furrowed together, eyes avoiding Gojo’s gaze. “What could that reason be, I wonder. You’re just saying that so I can stop being up taking care of—“You couldn’t finish that sentence; how could you when Gojo brought a hand to your chin and prompted you to look back at him? Azure eyes pierced right into yours; it made your heart skip, and your body dare not to move.

“You want me to prove you wrong?” He asks with a neutral expression, hard for you to gauge what’s on his mind. You know him; he likes to poke fun or try to get you riled up. So, this shouldn’t be any different (aside from him holding your chin).

You huff, “Go ahead.”

And it was there where you should’ve chosen your words carefully.

“Khaaa! Ohhh! G–Gojo, stop…! Y’r fingerss—Ahhaaa!”

“Aht, aht, don’t do that, angel. Open those legs up for me…Fuck, you’re so cute…Mmm”

It took you aback when Gojo stood up from the couch, took your hand, and walked you from the living room to his room. Confusion on your part turned into immediate shock when he brought you into a kiss. With wide eyes and thoughts going at a million miles per hour, you instinctively tried to brush him off you. But one kiss turned into two, and two kisses turned into three. And before you know it, you sink into the feel of his pillowy lips, a leg situating between yours while your hands come around his neck.

And the surprises don’t stop there; Gojo then hoists you up — yes, picks you up! — and brings you to his bed to continue laying his lips on you. Your shaky moans resulted from his kisses trailing from your chin to your collarbone, the humps of his lower half chafing the groin of your shorts. The twitch of your chasm happens involuntarily — how embarrassing! Especially when he distracts you by claiming your lips again so he can pull down your bottoms and panties.

And that’s how we end up here, you crying out for him as he kisses and nibbles on your ear while his fingers play with your wet folds. “—Ahahhnn!! G–Gojo, no..! Not there…Hnnfff…!”

“You say that, but you’re not letting my fingers go, huh.” He chortles before kissing your cheek, stuffing his middle finger to aid his forefinger in scraping your inner walls. The wails that escaped your lips were so unlike the stern persona he’d usually deal with; they provoked him into wanting to hear more. “Damn, didn’t know my little cute roomie could make such cute sounds. Let me hear more, ‘kay?”

Cute!? The adjective had your cheeks increase in heat with the twitch of your southern walls clamping onto Gojo’s digits. “Hoooh! Q–Quit playing with me, Gojo; just stop going so fa—Aaahhhh!!”

From your protest, his fingers go even faster. And worse, he sneaks his thumb to your clitoris, where he shocks your body with swipes and grinds to the delicate pearl. Too fast for you to chew on your lip to shield the creams, “Hey now, I said call me by my name.” He looks at you with flushed cheeks and soft, hooded eyes — way too late to blame the alcohol for such effects. But you can see the passion that’s burning inside those blue orbs of his. “Don’t be stubborn on me, pretty girl. What’s my name, Y/n?”

God, first cutie, now pretty girl; how many names was he gonna call you to drag you deep into your pool of embarrassment? “Haahhh, Satoru, please,” your body jerks to the jabs of his fingers hitting inside you.

“Heh, good girl. My little angel…” Gojo kisses you again, sucking on your tongue with a teasing vigor before lifting your shirt to display your body to him in its whole form. Your breasts spill open for him to claim a nipple into his mouth for a quick suck. He then travels down your abdomen, playfully nibbling on your soft skin and flesh for you to jerk. His hands massage your inner thighs after spreading them further.

His face then comes down to your bare cunt, blowing on it to make you squirm. “Fuck, I’ve been wanting to look at you for so long. You made such a gorgeous mess for me.”

“Go fuck yourself, Gojo,” you peer down at him, only for him to beam with a mischievous smile. Damn, you cursed his dimples for making him look like a childish bastard!

“No thanks, I’m more interested in fucking this cute thing.” He snickers to himself before descending further in between your legs and having you gasp sharply at the feel of his lips on your slit. His tongue swishes between your folds and sucks in your leaking substances for him to savor, the wet muscle teasing its entrance of your vagina before inserting inside.

You almost choke on your spit, crying out for him to stop and trying to close your legs. But that proves worthless, Gojo’s hands holding them to your chest for him to feast on you properly. You’re forced to accept the laps of his tongue, and it has your ears ringing with the obscene sounds coming from the commotion.

“—Ohoo!! Satoru, stop!!” You bring a hand to his head to grab a tuff of his snow-white hair. It does nothing, only making him eat you out even more unsteadily. His nose occasionally bumps into your clit, your other hand gripping the sheets. “Stooop it, I’m gonna cummm, if you keep….!”

“Go ahead, baby,” he withdraws his mouth, slipping his fingers back inside you to massage euphorically. Your eyes roll up when he licks on your clitoris. “Let’s see my pretty angel be messy for me.”

You couldn’t prevent yourself from following his command even if you wanted to, the fingers and his wet muscle all doing their part in making sure you give in. And so you do, releasing the reins to let your orgasm overcome you, clamping onto his fingers as it pass through your body through the shocks and your erotic howls.

And Gojo eats you up through your sensitive nerves and all, his hands not letting you writhe out of this as he stuffs his face into your cunt. Your body jolts with every passing shock until it relaxes. And even then, Gojo still carries a naughty grin when lifting his face and licking his digits. “Look at that, princess. Making my fingers all pretty.”

The display made your ears hot. “Don’t play with it like that!”

“Why, I’m gonna play with you a whole lot more, anyway,” he says while kissing your thighs. He surprises you with a bite, making you huff in surprise. “Gonna play and mark you all mine all night long.”

And he was not lying. Everything happened so fast; one moment, you’re lying on Gojo’s bed with him, eating you out until you come from his mouth two times. The next moment, your pajamas are stripped off you and thrown to the floor along with his.

“—Noohhh!! Ohhh, fuuuck, ahh, ‘Toruuu, yer goin’ too fast…! Slow down!!”

“Hnngh! Ahhhh, easy for you to say with you gripping on me like crazy…Holy shiiiit, you feel so good…”

Now, you two in the nude are fucking like animals. The hour is way past late for noises to disrupt your neighbors, yet here you are on Gojo’s bed with your face down to the sheets and your ass propped up for him to drill his length deep inside you. He’s caged you beneath him, his strong arms on either side of you while his hips thrust into your plump ass and thighs. The sounds of the action were so raunchy to the ears, something straight from a porno.

The two of you have been going at it for about two previous rounds; your body is already sensitive and sweaty from this. You want to be tired – your mind is trying to tell you you’re exhausted. However, it’s impossible to think of anything else with Gojo hammering his dick into you like no tomorrow. Excessive come leaks from your cunt down your thighs, a white ring forming around the base of his shaft — evidence of your sexes union.

“Ohhh Jesus, this ’s too much…Nnnphh!” The clap of your ass smacking onto Gojo’s pelvis made you sheepish, sinking your face further into the sheets to try and conceal your cries. But that’s not working when the tip of his cock grazes your velvety walls in such a precise motion that you almost choke on a sob, drool coming down your mouth. “Oh God, right there, ‘Toruuu…”

The white-haired man observes from above, examining your round ass and body jerk from his movements. Fuck, you looked so fucking sexy like this under him, wailing out from him being able to make you feel so good. It strokes his ego so badly, but that’s what happens when he’s finally proving to you how much he’s wanted your body like this. Your erotic body, your adorable mewls, and your amazingly tight cunt clenching on him as if you don’t want to let him go — it all makes his head pound, and his strokes smack on your harsher.

“Shiiiit, I’m so close…” He moans with a cold sweat that rolls down to his chin and hits the skin of your trapezius. Gojo then decides to switch things up before his evident release comes knocking. “Hey, sweetie. Let me see that pretty face of yours.”

You were already maneuvered to face him before he could finish that sentence, your front forced to be seen in his gaze. Your half-lidded orbs locked in with Gojo’s as he bucks his hips to you during missionary. Oh, what an intimate position!

“Hic—Don’t look!” You say while putting your hands up to his face – accidentally hitting the bottom of his chin, taking him by surprise – not wanting him to see your disheveled and messy self under his observant eyes.

But that didn’t fly by with him, immediately grabbing your wrists and pinning them down. “Oh, none of that, princess,” his face descends to brush his nose against yours. “I told you I’d prove you wrong. So, how am I supposed to do that with you hiding from me like that?”

You gulp to give him a snarky answer, “Mmmph—You’ve proven that enough!”

“I don’t think so,” he chuckles lightly; fuck, he sounds so hot. “With you, there’s never enough.” He takes your lips with him before you can say more, grinding his hips onto your squelching chasm to scrape your sensitive spots to evoke your screams to be taken from his mouth.

Gojo then snaps his hips into you at an unsteady tempo, the rhythm too fast to comprehend and catch yourself. The rough hits of his dick so harsh and sporadic, and your mewls are muffled by his kisses. Your hands go to his back, preparing yourself for the climax that rushes back to you for the fifth time that night.

Oh, fuck, oh my fucking God! And it hits you like a slap to the face; your exhausted body trembles for yet another crescendo to crash over you. Your legs come around to Gojo’s waist to hold on. And Gojo’s not too far from orgasming on his own; the fluttering contractions of your cunt force him to give in and spill into you once again, groaning into your wet and puffy lips.

The two of you embrace the jolts of your bodies in union, your lips glued to his as he kisses you through it all. And he drops his sweaty body on yours, the heat between you two sticking to your skins from the contact. A hand comes to the top of your head, caressing and massaging your scalp to further your relaxed state.

Gojo breaks the kiss with a soft sound, and a string of saliva sticks to you two until it’s broken apart from his ascent. He chortles, using a thumb to wipe your mouth from spit. “Well, did I make my point?”

You send him a tired glare, sighing heavily while your finger traces his back. “More than enough, Satoru.”

He beams, the dimples returning to blind you. “Good! Because I was thinking of going for another round—“

Your lips quiver with dread at the words, grabbing for a pillow and instantly hitting him in the head with it, not caring about him exclaiming in pain from the impact.

“Hurry up and get off me, you drunk, horny bastard!!”

But one thing was definite; it wasn’t the alcohol that Gojo was drunk on — it was you.

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demiesworld · 1 year ago

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thinking about men who are obsessed with big girls.

☆ — men who love the stretch marks on your hips, thighs, tummy, ass, tits, and arms. you call them weird when they plant their face in between your plump breasts as you're cuddling. but the affection they show towards what you call "flaws" is genuine and heartening.

☆ — men who makes it their habit to help you apply your lotion to your body after your shower. they have you laying on a towel on your stomach and they rub it all over your skin. "i like it when your skin feels soft and smooth." they answer when you ask them why they like to put lotion on your body. in reality it's because they want to explore your chubby body with their hands. fingers rubbing circles onto your skin and groping on the fat flesh on your love handles.

☆ — when they get agitated by something and you're near by them, they wrap their arm around your waist and squeeze your tummy. jiggling it in their hand as they're trying to assess a problem that's making them irritated in their head.

☆ — men who love it when you wear crop tops that show off your tummy, shorts that barely go over your ass and leave some cheek hanging out, and body hugging dresses (without the shapewear). especially when you're at the pool wearing a two piece swimsuit.

nsfw under the cut!

☆ — men who can't control themselves when you ride them reverse cowgirl and your round ass cheeks are recoiling each time you slam your pussy down on his dick. his eyes are darkened yet focused on your ass because, fuck, the sight of them jiggling and clapping when they hit his skin is mesmerizing. "god... you do that so good baby. riding my cock like that, oh fuck." there's sticky strings of white attached to your pussy and on his cock. your head is tossed back and mouth is singing a chorus of squeaky moans from his cock ramming into your sweet spot. he smacks you on your ass repeatedly till the skin is stinging and it gets sore.

☆ — men who like to fuck you when you're on your stomach. this position is their favorite because they have control over the pace and they get a view of your body jiggling by their hard thrusts. he has his right arm wrapped under your tummy and gripping the fat on your waist. the left one is squeezing your breast and pinching your nipples. he likes that he could toss you around on the bed and fuck you hard enough that you're seeing stars. "can't talk anymore baby eh? did i make- fuck- make you go dumb?"

☆ — men who get excited when you get on your knees and take his big cock into your mouth. your fingers can barely connect around the base of it and you make an effort in swallowing his full length down your throat. your head tilted back shows him the bulge and it drives him crazy that you could do that. "mmm, fuck, mm, just like that. i love that shit baby." he thrusts his hips forward and bullies his dick in your mouth like he does when he's in your pussy. your head game has his legs shaking and balls tightening up when he's getting close to cumming. he tells you stop so he could come on your face, but you hold him by his thighs and lower your mouth on his shaft. your throat flexes around his dick, and he breaks, he releases a heavy load down your throat. just when he thought you couldn't get any nastier you swallow it and fondle his balls.

☆ — men who want for you to sit your pussy down on their face when they eat you out. their pointed nose rubbing at your clit with their long tongue wiggling inside of you. you're going numb when they jostle their head around. he gives your ass gentle smacks as you slowly start to rock your hips on his face. you can't help yourself though, it just feels so good. he makes a gesture for you stop, and he lifts the hood of your clit up, then his tongue flicks rapidly to the hard bud. a shudder crashes through your body, as you whimper and tangle your fingers in his hair. pulling at the strands when you bring his face closer and grind your hips again on his face. "daddy, daddy, i'm going to cum, daddy! m'ohh, ahh, hm!" you whine. you feel a tightness in your stomach at the same time your body is lifted up and you're on the bed with your head on the mattress and rest of your body hoisted up in the air. your feet are touching your shoulders. you look up to see him fucking his tongue into your pussy. in between short breaths, out of his mouth are the words, "come on baby, make this pretty pussy come on my tongue." and your hole clenches around his tongue, a stream of your juices spurt onto his face and drip down your body. his mouth pulls off from your mound smacking his wet lips and tasting yourself on his mouth.

☆ — men who after they're done fucking you they cuddle with you on the bed and just feel all over your body. their hands caress your soft skin and grope on your breasts. his deep voice is whispering praises, appreciations, and assurances into your ear. "i love you so much baby," "you're so fucking beautiful." "don't worry honey i'm not going anywhere." no matter the size of you, they carry you into the shower and help you wash off the body fluids. still they murmur appreciation for your existence as they clean you.

(jjk) gojo, TOJI, NANAMI, geto, choso, sukuna, (kny) TENGEN, RENGOKU, sanemi, (aot) jean, EREN, ERWIN, connie, (tokyo rev) mikey, kakucho, DRAKEN, HANMA, TAIJU, baji, ran, rindou, (marvel) MIGUEL O'HARA, steve rogers, bucky barnes, any of your favs! ♡

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crimsonmochi · 28 days ago

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Intimate ― S. Gojo

Synopsis. Part 2 to "Personal" | Pornstar!Satoru is used to fucking for money's sake. It's something he does often and something he does really fucking well. When he is requested to guest you, however, it shocks everyone to see an immediate energy shift.

Pairing. Satoru Gojo x fem!reader

Content. MDNI, fem! pornstar! reader, chubby! reader implied, gender neutral pronouns used for reader, but use of "girl" about twice, no use of "y/n", smut, p in v, fingering, creampie, sweet sex, some semblance of onlyfans, pussydrunk! gojo, gojo is left handed canon, still a little bit pathetic, still a little nasty, probable breaches of work boundaries, drinking mentioned, no beta

Word Count. 6.1k

Parts. one | two

A/N. thank you so much for the love on part 1! sorry for taking so long with this one, i was a bit busy for the holidays. part 3 and final part hopefully coming soon in a theater near u

Seventeen times. And a half.

Since the tape came out on his page, Satoru Gojo had jerked off to it seventeen times. He only counts the half because he technically had finished that one time, but it was too humiliatingly early to even fully count.

It worried him at first. Sure, he was aware of his high sex drive, but never had a single video—a single person—managed to have him this worked up. He even had it downloaded to his phone, and downloading porn had never been a thing Satoru envisioned himself doing, ever, even if it was his own.

Every now and then, his mind would go blank and remind him of how you looked, how you sounded, how you smelled and how you felt. He remembered how you looked at each other, the burns your eyes had permanently left on his soul. He remembered making out with you on the studio bed after you had sucked on his fingers, a primal urge to taste you consistently and refusing to stop even to breathe. And he remembered your smile against his lips and how embarrassingly giddy it had him feeling.

Satoru hadn't turned the cameras off right away. He stayed with you in bed, and you didn't seem to mind, chatting it up rather normally while he laid on top of your body, heavy as a rock and as your fingers brushed through his hair. He had never spent over a minute with his co-stars after filming before. You were different. And he liked that you were different.

What he did not like was what came with you being different, the unknown.

Satoru was used to one-night stands, situations, and things that could have become something more but ended after one conversation about what he did for a living. Connections ending abruptly, accounts unfollowed, numbers deleted. It never shook him emotionally; he would be at most bummed out for the afternoon because, damn, she was hot or fuck, I liked her voice. Never anything serious.

And sure, whatever he had with you might have started as pure sexual attraction, but you weren't just a pretty face and a hot body.

He had explained it to Suguru as having a box full of your favourite chocolates and one flavour never tasted before. He liked all the other chocolates because they were his favourites, but once he tasted the unknown flavour, the other ones started to be dull to the senses―to which Suguru responded by calling him an idiot, of course.

It hadn't helped that you two started calling shortly after the video went live, your sweet voice and soft waves of laughter making his situation exponentially worse. Satoru put a lot of effort into being as casual and kind as he could be, careful not to scare you off and desperate to keep you around if only just milliseconds longer.

To your surprise, Satoru turned out to be a great listener—a little too great, at times, when you wondered if he was still listening after long monologues. He was attentive, remembered details you wouldn't even expect your closest friends to remember, which made your lips curl and your heart feel a little warm.

You had confessed on a particularly inebriated that you only got into the industry to pay off your education and some of your parents' debt and that it was supposed to be temporary. You explained that you were actually qualified for very high-profile jobs, but since you now had a "questionable internet history" that employers kept bringing up at interviews, you had given up on that, which took some coming to terms with on your part. And Satoru listened to that story, heart clenching when you thanked him for the opportunity he gave you to make a little bit more money this month.

Weird how you conveniently found a deposit in your bank account the next morning. He swore up and down he did not know the first thing about it, but even if it had come from him, he would not want you to take it as a gift of pity but rather a late bonus for your hard work. But it definitely wasn't him, sweet thing.

The gifts didn't stop after the money incident. Now that Satoru understood you better and that small gestures were the way to go rather than an exceedingly ridiculous amount of money to gift someone, he went with that. He ordered flowers to your home with no cards, trinkets and stickers he found at those seemingly breaking down records shops Suguru would drag him into.

Satoru never left any indication that it was his doing, and you had never brought it up to him. But he knew that you knew, and that was all he needed.

All your assistant ever heard these days was "Satoru this" and "Satoru that." Your constant gushing had made it abundantly clear that your relationship was a little bit more than professional and even transcended that of a friendship.

"Seems like you've really... taken a liking to that guy," she once said in the passenger seat of your car.

"I'm telling you, Sammy, he's nothing like he seems in his content. You'd like him," you had responded, pausing to contemplate your next words. "Plus, we're just, like, friends..."

"Friends who want to fuck each other bad, from what I heard."

"But friends nonetheless."

Silence fell at a red light, the hum of the tires rolling against the pavement dissipating.

"Plus, I don't think he's... he wouldn't go for me, is all I'm gonna say," you mumbled, fingers gripping the steering wheel.

Sammy scoffed, a tiny smirk at the corner of her lips.

"Yeah right."

For the most part, you were happy to have Satoru around, and he was happy to stay. But the satisfaction devolved into wanting, neither of you being brave enough to make the first move. Although Satoru was fine with even just having you in the picture, he wished he could film with you again, see you again. Touch you again.

And even if you both didn't truly know what you were, what you wanted from each other, it was peaceful to have another's presence the way you and Satoru did.

That lasted until about a month later when a studio approached Satoru, intending to remake the magic of your and him's video, with big money involved.

"You see, your uhm... tape, so to speak, I'm sure you're aware of the numbers it did," blabbed some man in a blue stained shirt and a moustache that didn't exactly connect.

"'Course," mumbled Satoru, slumped on an office chair, his eyes fixated on that moustache that barely qualified as one.

"Well, it seems that our female demographic these days is into that sort of played-up intimacy, you know. We're placing our big bets on your ability to do that."

This guy—Itsuki, as Satoru recalled—was a director for this falling pornography production studio. He knew what he was talking about for the most part, yet was still hiding the fact that this was a last-stretch attempt at keeping the business alive. "Big bets" was an understatement; nobody offered the amount of money they did if they weren't desperate.

God, he really, really hated studios.

"Played up?" Satoru questioned, shaking his head. "That wasn't played up I just..."

"Listen kid, you're the industry big shot," Itsuki grumbled.

"I am?"

Satoru's numbers had been high, but he had never considered himself to be anything other than just another attractive guy who happened to be good at sex as well. Calling him a "big shot" only cringed him out.

"Oh yeah, trust me, you're talked about a lot. It's a good thing. Ya got the X factor. You're versatile, people love you," the man continued, turning in his chair like a tall child, "And we just, uh... need a bit of your talent right now."

Satoru sighed, contemplating his options. On the one side, it was something he hated; being directed and ordered around like a show dog really was not his style, and he'd rather chew on a dirty tire than deal with that energy for even just one day.

But on the other hand, this would allow him to do something for you. Something he had been thinking about doing for a little while.

He really, really, really hated studios.

"Alright. I'll do it. Let me call my girl—" mumbled Satoru, reaching for his phone.

Itsuki raised his hand dismissively, earning a puzzled look from Satoru.

"Oh, sorry, you've misunderstood. We're gonna bring in one of our own actors for this job. Your girl, they're not exactly what we're, uh, looking for, if ya know what I mean," Itsuki chuckled, raising his pen to his lips, an amused look on his face.

"I don't know what you mean."

Satoru's tone had turned icy, blue eyes piercing through Itsuki's soul with disgust. Satoru had a pretty good idea of what he was arguing. His body tensed at the prospect.

"They're not exactly the, uh... body type we're lookin' for, y'know?"

"Yeah, no thanks, deal's off," Satoru groaned, rolling his eyes as he got up, already halfway across the room before Itsuki reserved the audacity to keep speaking.

"We'll throw in an extra few thousand."

Satoru found himself in a break room, reading the dumbest script of his whole career, with a girl with a stupid stage name and Itsuki. Any attempts made to change something in the script were quickly shut down by 'Honey Suckle,' the tall blonde clinging to his arm like he was her life force. He barely even glanced at her when she spoke; he didn't need to. Her voice was irritating enough.

He could not get his brain to shut off for even two seconds, thoughts racing. He kept forgetting the script, rolling his eyes at the dumb dialogue, and most importantly, for the first time in his entire life, he couldn't get it up for what seemed like an hour.

Until that is, he thought about you. The soft sound of your laughter, your eyes on him, your pussy sweet and tight around him, shit, that did the trick.

Honey didn't make the task an easy one. Satoru was lucky to be blessed with an adequate set of acting skills and a talent for pleasing women, this time for the sake of finishing this ordeal early and getting out of there with the money he was promised.

Just when he thought he was free, walking back to his makeshift dressing room—which had peeling paint that crumbled and left a white dust on his clothing and a cracked ceiling, adding to the desolate atmosphere of this sorry establishment—to get ready to leave, Honey ambushed him, demanding his number with an attitude that lacked class and bridged into spoiled brat territory.

Satoru was not surprised to learn that she was the one who orchestrated everything from the script to the over-the-top romantic set in the first place.

Reaching his front door after that day felt like reaching the gates of heaven. Satoru wasted no time hopping in the shower until his anxiety melted away and until he felt safe from the claws of that Honey girl, nearly scorching hot water cascading down from his head to his feet. A thick fog of condensation stuck to the glass and the mirror, shielding him from the emptiness of the room, perhaps.

With his leaned against the cold tiles, his hand reached out to grasp the soap bottle, and finally, a moment to himself, Satoru could not stop the reoccurring daydreams of you in this very place. Your thighs around his waist, your digits in his locks. Your bodies warm to the touch, skin sliding against skin. He could picture his hands on your chest, using the excuse of washing your body to touch, to feel. Taking you against the wall, the glass, leaving handprints that would linger for a few hours later.

And then, maybe, switch from the shower to the bathtub. Your body leaning on his chest, his lips against the nape of your neck, just gently holding you close. His fingers would prune up, and his head would rest on your shoulder, his eyelids too heavy to keep open. Maybe you would tell him it was dangerous to sleep in water, and he'd mumble something about not even being tired.

Despite the thought putting his mind at ease, he recognized the distant fear of vulnerability within himself. But it was dimming with every time he spoke to you; he was changing and seemingly adapting to the way you made him feel.

Satoru called you that same night, a little bit later than usual, unsure if you would even pick up when he glanced over at the clock on the wall, ticking amongst the silence. You answered, your usual quiet "hey" emerging from his phone's speaker, but it was... off to Satoru.

You sounded tired, distant even. He asked, pressed to understand if something was wrong, yet all he received in exchange were non-reassuring two-word sentences and mumbles of affirmations.

He didn't feel good about hanging up that night.

And he felt worse when he didn't hear from you in the next few days.

Satoru simply could not take the silence. It physically pained him to no end, like a sickness bubbling at the pit of his stomach. He was afraid that if he let it bubble enough, it would reach his throat to choke him out and make him perish.

When he wanted to treat you as a retired distraction, a mere phase of his life, the emotions came back to haunt him tenfold, the whiplash causing his usually already short temper to be microscopic.

He stalked your page almost every night, once finding a new upload of you taking it from the back, some random guy he had never heard of clumsily thrusting at an uneven pace. Satoru was almost certain you didn't even finish. Actually pathetic.

Before he knew it, Satoru was typing in the comment section, writing something along the lines of "He didn't even make you cum lol, you look bored as fuck, he's such a loser," before giving up on pressing the post button when he realized how unhinged he would come across.

Things were almost back to the way they were before he met you. And he absolutely hated it.

Satoru nearly punched Suguru when he had the gall to invite him to a wedding―a distant relative of the Geto family that Suguru insisted he had to attend the wedding of―because he thought it would be "good for him" and would "help him figure out what he wants."

Suguru may have had to drag Satoru to the event, but he did attend and stayed until after the ceremony, only for the drinks. And he drank, not until he was drunk, but enough to keep his emotions at bay for a little while.

Satoru walked outside the venue to get some air while Suguru talked to his second cousin. Standing in front of the busy street, Satoru took a deep breath and admired the lights of the cars passing by, street lights, windows and traffic signs, all coming together forming a multicoloured mosaic. The cool air hit his face and made him shiver, turning his head slightly to the left.

The street he was on happened to be the street you lived on. Satoru blinked once, twice; maybe he was imagining things. He knew your address by heart from ordering so much shit to your place, and he knew he wasn't blind either.

Sooner than he could even rationalize it, his feet were taking him down the street, looking closely at the numbers. He roughly estimated being about two blocks away from your apartment complex.

His mind started working overtime, giving him reasons to turn back, like, what if you had company over? What if there was another man there, in your bed, right now―and if anything, it only encouraged his body to move forward.

Satoru crossed the street, looking at the number at least six times before entering the entryway call box, his fingers hovering on the keypad, wondering if he should ring you or just a random person. A stranger would be 50/50 at this hour, but he was almost assured that if he picked you, his chances were near zero, given how you had ignored his calls in the past week.

He went with the stranger, dialling some random four digits and crossing his fingers. Hopefully, they wouldn't answer and ask questions―

"Hello? Is this Domino's?" a male voice, probably late 20's, answered after a few rings.

"Uhm... yeah?" Satoru squeaked. Whatever happens next will be the pizza delivery guy's problem.

The guy buzzed Satoru in without another question, leaving Satoru concerned about security in the establishment if it was this easy for him to get in.

6th floor, 683.

The anxiety started to set in only in the elevator on the way up. He hadn't planned this; in fact, he hadn't planned anything. He didn't even know what to say. He didn't even know why he was doing this. Why you, of all people. Why you, of all people, reserved the ability to reduce him to this, naked and vulnerable for you.

Or why he hoped, deep in his gut, that he could do the same to you.

Satoru almost wished that the walk from the elevator to your apartment was longer as he stood there. He nearly moved to look through the peephole, but nah, that'd be creepy.

He listened in instead from where he was standing, discerning from the silence that there was no one with you.

And so, he raised his fist.

And knocked.

You froze in your living room, whirling your head towards the doorway, cautious not to make a noise. You hadn't ordered anything, and a girl living by herself was probably better off not answering the door from an unknown visitor at 10 in the evening.

Satoru shut his eyes, cringing at himself in a moment of realization, though he did not leave. He leaned his forehead against your door, his palm over the frame above his head.

"You there?" he asked.

You knew that voice.

You moved quietly to stand in the doorway, careful to land your feet softly on the floor.

Satoru reopened his eyes and glanced down, seeing that the light was peeking through the bottom of the door and that a shadow was moving through.

"I know you're here, sweet thing," Satoru said, firm yet soft. "You can―" he sighed, "You can tell me to go away, and I will, but I just... I don't know what I'm here for, actually. Jus' wanna see you, is all."

His voice sounded like a whine, picking away at your resolve. He waited there for a minute in silence, giving you time to make your choice.

But he was silently begging you to choose him.

Satoru should have felt relieved when he heard your door lock and saw the handle turn, though it instead stuck his breath in his lungs.

It hadn't helped that he saw you standing in a pretty pastel nightgown, with a face devoid of makeup and mismatched socks. Such a beautiful, natural state that made his heart stop and his dick twitch with interest. He was trying not to let his eyes linger on your chest, your thighs, your everything that wasn't your face for too long.

What a sight for sore eyes.

That isn't to say Satoru was not a pretty view himself, his tie halfway undone around his neck, sleeves of his white dress shirt rolled up to right above his elbows, hair messy, eyes tired, and cheeks rosy―partly from the alcohol, partly from the cold, and partly because he felt like he had just been struck by a deity in the sky just looking at you―all while leaning on your doorframe and staring like he had been starved of something while away from you. Which he had, in his perspective.

"Y'don't answer your phone anymore, sweetheart?" asked Satoru rhetorically, words dripping in sarcasm.

"You show up to people's apartments uninvited now?" you retorted, employing the same tone.

"Would you cut the bullshit for a second? I'm being serious."

"Didn't sound like it."

Satoru was surprised to find you had bite, talking back to him with a little sass. He liked it. And maybe he'll fuck the attitude straight out of you later.

"That little radio silence thing you're on? Can't stand it," he went on, keeping the soft edge to his tone.

"I've been busy, you shrugged.

"Not too busy to get your back blown out by a guy who couldn't last two minutes."

"What, are you jealous?"

"Of what? His performance? Amongst the worst I've seen."

"That he got to blow my back out."

"Not jealous. Just pissed."

"Mh."

Satoru took a step closer, hand leaving the door frame to land on the wall above you as you crossed your arms, staring at the man towering over you with the same intensity he had in his blue eyes.

"Why are you ignoring me, love?" Satoru mumbled, letting insecurity and vulnerability peer through his voice.

"Because I don't know what you want. And I don't want to end up being just... another girl, y'know?" you admitted, dropping your gaze to his crinkled and half-open shirt.

Satoru's eyes softened, stepping too close to close the door behind him. You caught the scent of his cologne before he stepped back once more, and fuck, you needed him.

"There was this... other woman who posted on social media about how she was your girlfriend and all that," you went on, playing with your fingers as a distraction. "And then when I checked her out there was a video of you two in this whole like, romantic setting thing so... and like, I totally get it, I'm―I just didn't know what to do. Or what to think."

Oh, hell no.

"She's not my girlfriend," Satoru nearly interrupted. "I can swear that on my life, we just filmed together. I don't know why she's posting that, but I can promise you that I barely even tolerated her. She's not the one I want."

That authoritative voice nearly made you forget the conversation you both were having.

"Matter of fact, I'm a bit offended that you would think that we had any chemistry whatsoever; I had to work my ass off to even make it look remotely believable," he scoffed, a grin returning to his lips.

Satoru was desperate to see that smile on your face again.

"Well, I didn't know what to think, I mean, she seemed like she could be your type," you replied sheepishly.

"If you think that's my type, sweetheart, I've still got lots to teach you," he purred, voice low.

Satoru reached his palm to your face, feeling the warmth of your flesh beneath his fingertips. He snaked his hold to the nape of your neck, pulling you forward towards him, his neck craned to meet your figure with his. His nose and lips brushed against yours teasingly, putting on a show.

"Come on, tell me to leave. Tell me I can't be yours."

Toying with a strand of your hair and looking through his long white lashes, he was unwilling to make the first move. Or rather, Satoru wanted you to tame the uncertainty bellowing from the pit of his stomach. Fearing rejection was unfamiliar to his heart, but knowing it to be a testament to your importance mellowed the burn.

"Tell me that I can't have you."

Satoru was only merely surprised by your arms wrapping around his neck to bring his lips to yours, adapting quick and shutting his eyelids, languid movements of your tongue against his, sobering him up completely to get him drunk on a different type of substance.

His hand left the wall to come softly grip your thigh, moving to its underside to encourage you to jump.

"But what if I'm―" your voice came out breathless.

"Don't offend me right now, sweet thing."

You jumped, trusting him to catch you―and he did, without so much as a grunt, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist, supporting you with his forearms under your thighs.

"See? No need to doubt me," Satoru mumbled against your lips.

The kiss was slow yet messy, sloppily reverberating passion and a twinge of desperation. Within a break for oxygen―which he could have gone without if up to him―Satoru asked for the directions to your bedroom, kicking his shoes off somewhere between the entryway and the hallway.

Satoru was thrilled to see the room he had seen on Facetime with you a few times; it was perfectly tailored and personal to you. It was one thing to see, but it was another to be in your space with you.

He set you down on your bed carefully, keeping your legs to the sides of his waist as he crawled above you.

"You're just too good, y'know that? Fuck, you made it so hard to focus," said Satoru, admiring the sight before him.

"I wasn't even there."

"You were everywhere. Couldn't... couldn't think straight... couldn't stop..."

His voice trailed off as his eyes dropped lower to your hips, your thighs. Satoru traced an imaginary line on the inner side of them, agonizingly slow, your nightgown pooling and lifting at his wrist. He ran his finger on a small patch of your underwear where your arousal had soaked through the fabric, a stupid smirk on his face.

"Can I keep these after?"

He chuckled softly when you rolled your eyes and turned your head to the side, flustered. How cute.

Satoru began to take your panties off, shifting on top of you to make the task possible, bunching up the fabric in his hands and shoving them in his pocket with a wink.

He dipped two of his fingers between your slit, avoiding your clit on purpose, smiling down at you when you frowned at him.

"What? Tell me what you want. Big girl words, come on."

No script, no pre-determined routes, just genuineness.

"Just touch me, Satoru..." you mumbled, unsure.

"Where?"

Oh my god, this asshole.

You gasped as his fingers ghosted over your clit, begging him to touch there.

"Right here?" Satoru questioned, fake innocence etched onto his face as he stroked the sensitive nub slowly.

"Mhm," you sighed out.

The pace he had set was too slow, but he was aware of that. He did not want to make you cum, at least not right then, he simply wanted to drive you insane, give you a taste of your own medicine―so to speak.

Satoru replaced his fingers with his thumb, digits reaching over to your entrance, circling the opening.

"You have no fucking clue, do you? How mad you can turn a man. How long I would wait, what I would give up just to be yours. You don't even realize―"

He pushed his fingers in with one deep thrust, letting you whine and mewl at him before resuming his sentence, moving his index and middle in and out of you.

"You don't even realize how unhinged you make me―fuck, look at that, already soaking my hand, shiiit, and you're so tight..."

Satoru's eyelids were half closed, focused on the soft squelches of your pussy and the sight of it, ignoring his erection begging to be released from those tight black pants.

"And then you go out and fuck some guy who can't even make you cum? Who doesn't even take his fucking time to learn your body to fucking treat you like the deity you are. Now that's bullshit, and you know it, sweetheart. I know you're smart."

He sped up the pace, hitting your spot with deliberate and merciless movements, high on your moans and the way your back arched for him, mind stuck on his objective.

"Should've called me, I would've eaten that pussy for hours, would've done it for free. For less than free. Fuck, would've paid you for it."

Satoru's incessant speaking drove you up the wall, your fingers tightly gripping the sheets, his motions precisely designed to satisfy you but never quite send you over the edge.

"Satoru," you panted, sweat beading on your body.

"Yes?"

"Want more... please..."

"Anything you want, pretty."

He timed the thrusts of his fingers with the circling of your clit, increasing the pace while keeping a delicacy to his endeavours, capturing your lips in a small, shallow kiss before leaning his forehead on yours.

Right when Satoru felt your thighs start to tense at his sides, your breath quicken on his face, your walls fluttering, and the urgency in your voice, he...

Stopped.

Pulled his fingers out and licked them right in front of you, making sure your eyes were on him.

"I was so close―this is the second time you've done this," you whined, eyes closing as you felt the pure need coursing through your veins like a spreading disease.

"First time doesn't count; it was on camera," Satoru shrugged. "Come on, don't make that face. Besides, I'm punishing myself too. Watching you cum is the hottest thing ever."

With a groan, you pushed Satoru to his back and lifted yourself onto him in one move.

Satoru didn't know if he was in love before, but this certainly did it.

"My, my, woman. Didn't know you had that in you."

Even under you, the man had to stay smug, an arrogant smile on display just for you. You pouted and started undoing the buttons of his shirt without a word, which he did not move to fight, simply observing your meticulous work with his forearms under his head.

"Just like that, use me, sweetheart; you deserve it."

You couldn't ignore how Satoru's voice made your core drip, the stain of slick you had inadvertently left on the lower part of his dress shirt, or the comment he made about never washing that shirt again.

"You're nasty."

"You love it."

When you reached his pants, having shimmied further to gain access to it, you hesitated.

"Don't tell me you're shy now," Satoru taunted.

"You can't―you can't blame me. I haven't had sex for real in a while," you retorted, a small smile forming on your lips, catching his gaze.

"It felt pretty real last time."

There was a certain sincerity in his voice, contrastingly different from just a moment ago, vulnerable. You could see it in his eyes, the way in which they conveyed everything he had ever felt, giving and sharing strands of thought and emotion.

"That was different," you mused, moving to take his pants off.

Satoru lifted his hips to help you, silent as for your words. He did not want to push and ruin this by digging, searching to understand every inch of your soul, of your experience with him. Although it was tempting.

He moved to sit up against your headboard, biceps flexing. He took his boxers off, cock standing tall and proud, achingly hard. Satoru took your forearm in his hand to pull you closer until you were straddling him, his length slipping between your slit.

"Use me," repeated Satoru, murmuring. "I'm all yours. Take what you want."

He moved his hand to your face, thumb sliding over your cheekbone. Satoru gazed up at you with a glint of devotion in those deep blue eyes, devoid of any uncertainty or hesitation, pretty white brows furrowed lightly with gut-wrenching warmth. Fondness was too shallow of a word to describe it. A little pathetic was surface level.

A second hand left your forearm to rest on your hip, imprinted nicely on your flesh. Satoru helped you lift yourself to sit back down on his cock, drinking your little mewls and gasps, groaning when he was fully seethed in your tight heat, as if it were his home.

"Mph, fuck, the wait was so worth it," he exhaled, both of his palms migrating to your waist. "Want some help, beautiful?"

You nodded yes, busy with the feeling of the wind being knocked out of your lungs. Satoru smiled and helped you lift yourself, length dragging out of your sopping cunt, to help you back down. He moaned shakily as you set a slower pace than what he was used to, losing himself in the feeling of your cunt around him.

"Y'know I... I watched our v-video so many fucking times. Started to―fuck, so fucking tight around me..."

"Started t-to what?" you whimpered, letting your head drop to his shoulder, panting quietly against his skin.

"Started to feel guilty f-for doing it, fuckin' jerking off to you... after you'd just told me some fuckin' innocent shit about your day or something... Oh my god... missed this, s'much."

Satoru moved one of his hands to lift your head off his shoulder, holding your face to force eye contact. His lips were parted, shameless with the endless grunts and groans of satisfaction your body forced out of him. He just about lost it when he felt your pretty hands on his chest, desperate for something to touch, to grab.

"Angle your hips that way, sweetheart," Satoru murmured, hand at your side moving you.

His thick tip hit your spot with a particularly harsh bounce, eliciting a high-pitched moan from you. Your thighs twitched around him, and your eyes rolled back as he whined at the lewd sounds of your skin slapping against his, the wet noise of his cock dripping and enveloping with your essence.

"I think I'm gonna cum," you breathed out.

"I know, I know pretty... I can tell by the way you squeeze around me, shitttt..."

Satoru felt like the world around him was spinning, listening to your voice, your pretty face, your body. The way your hands tightened around his pec inadvertently, the subtle sheen of sweat on your skin, your concentrated expression, so fucking adorable.

He pulled you in to connect your lips, trapping you in a searing, sincere kiss, swallowing your breaths, taking from your air. His fingers tangled in your hair, gripping tight but not enough to hurt. His nose brushed against yours as he turned his head for better access, pressing his face against yours as if he were scared you would evaporate beneath his fingers.

Satoru bit your lower lip and lightly dragged it away with his front teeth when he felt he was finally satisfied, although he had to force every muscle in his body to just let you breathe.

"'M gonna take care of ya... gonna fuckin'―fuck―gonna give you everything, promise... I swear, e-everyday I'll prove I'm good e-enough for you, every fuckin' day 'til I die, holy fuck."

Until my body gives out to the stars.

Your thighs started to give out, the strain making your movements less fluid and more scattered. Satoru started to meet you halfway with a thrust of his hips, sliding a hand down to toy with your clit, just like he'd seen you do before.

"Satoru," you breathed, tone wanton and desperate.

"Fuck, d-don't say my name l-like that unless you wanna make me―"

Satoru's ears started to ring, and his vision went blurry as he spilled himself deep inside your willing cunt, little whimpers contrasting the deep groans from earlier. His head fell back on your headboard, Adam's apple bobbing while his eyes got teary.

"S-So good, so pretty f'me, fuck..." Satoru squeaked out.

He continued his finger's assault on your cunt, flicking and rubbing at a faster pace. He just needed to see you cum. Needed to see you cream on his cock, just like you deserved.

Satoru looked at you as if you had hung the stars in the sky, watching you convulse, pant, do anything to brace yourself with this impending orgasm, finally sending over the edge with a sharp pinch of your clit.

And he didn't just stop at that; when he had regained his ability to speak, he offered to clean you up, take you to the bathroom, run you a bath, dumb shit that he thought you'd appreciate that he wanted to do for you. Didn't even recognize himself anymore.

You accepted the first two offers but not the last, seeing as it was late and you were tired, not only from the day but riding his dick, losing yourself in his arms.

Satoru found a cloth in your bathroom and warmed it up with tap water. He made sure it wasn't too hot to the touch before he climbed back in bed, gently cleaning your thighs, your mound, anywhere he thought leaving dirty would be uncomfortable.

Although seeing your hole nicely filled with his seed almost made him ask for a second round.

"I do care about you. Wanna do right by you, if you're okay with that," Satoru murmured.

"I'll keep you around," you responded.

Parts. one | two

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 30 days ago

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Eddie pressed his face to the bars of the crib, watching his daughter sleep. Eddie sighed as he watched Elizabeth's chest rise and fall, her little hands curled into tiny fists. He started in amazement at her chubby little cheeks. . .the way her mouth moved. . .she was so beautiful. . .the moles that peppered her skin like she was made of stars.

"Eddie, babe, you have to get some sleep. . .we both do," Steve’s voice came from behind him.

"Sshh!" Eddie hissed.

"She's out like a light," Steve said. "We both know by now that it takes a lot to wake her up."

Steve knelt beside Eddie, placing an arm on his lower back.

"I don't want to miss a single moment," Eddie sighed.

"You have to Eddie, if you want to be a good parent," Steve said. "You have to take care of yourself, too."

Eddie sighed and pressed his face further into the bars.

"What the fuck, Steve? Who allowed us to do this? I'm going to break her, I know it. How did this happen?" Eddie asked.

"We got bit by interdimensional bats that gave us the ability," Steve said.

"It was supposed to be you who got pregnant," Eddie said.

"That's your fault. We could have waited to buy more condoms but you were sure that you wouldn't get pregnant after one time," Steve said, smirking.

"You could have talked me out if it," Eddie pointed out.

"You were being irresistible, couldn't be helped," Steve laughed quietly.

"I don't regret anything," Eddie said, flashing his dimples, and just like that, it was gone. "I miss her, Steve. She lived inside of me. . .safe and protected from the world. . .now anything could happen to her. I feel like I'm wearing my heart outside of my body. . .and it's overwhelming. . .you know?"

"Believe me, I know," Steve said. "I look at her and still can't believe she's part of us."

"There's no way," Eddie sobbed. "That something so beautiful could come from me."

"Believe it, Eddie, because you're beautiful, too," Steve said.

"I feel so crazy, Steve," Eddie said.

"Well, you just had a baby. You're allowed to be crazy," Steve said and paused. "Within reason."

"I'm going to stay here and watch over her forever," Eddie vowed.

Steve scoffed before wrapping his arms around him and picking him up.

"No, you're not," he said.

Steve sat down in the rocking chair and cradled Eddie in his arms. He began to rub and Eddie's back.

"This is for babies," Eddie muttered.

"If it works, it works," Steve said. "Now, let me take care of you, and you go to sleep. Okay. . .do it for both of us."

Eddie's eyes fluttered close as Steve continued rocking him.

"This is nice," he mumbled.

Steve smiled and pressed his cheek against Eddie's head as he felt Eddie start to relax. He sighed happily as Eddie drifted off to sleep completely, his mouth moving slightly like Elizabeth's. Steve was just about to fall asleep himself when Elizabeth sneezed. Eddie's eyes popped open.

"Was that a fucking sneeze?" Eddie said rather darkly. "What kind of sick fucking germ attacks a child while they're sleeping?"

"Normal ones. . .go to sleep," Steve said, trying to fight his amusement.

Eddie eventually fell asleep, nestled further against Steve. He picked Eddie up and started carrying him out of the room, glancing fondly at Elizabeth one last time. Steve brought him back to their room, laying him carefully on the bed. Steve crawled back into bed, and Eddie rolled over immediately, flopping onto his chest. Eddie sighed, his hand over Steve’s heart.

"I think I love her more than you," Eddie muttered sleepily.

"I definitely love her more than you," Steve chuckled.

"I got knocked up by the right man," Eddie said, his fingers tapping out a Metallica song against Steve’s skin.

"Oh, were there any other men lining up to get you pregnant?" He asked.

"Hmm, Argyle," Eddie cackled. "The offer is still on the table. Mmm, he does have better hair than you."

"Asshole," Steve said and tickled Eddie's side, causing him to giggle.

"We're supposed to be sleeping," Eddie scolded.

Steve wrapped his arms around Eddie, holding him tightly and thanking the stars for the life they had together. . .that something good was able to come from all the horrors they endured.

#stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #eddie stranger things #eddie munson lives #steve harrington x eddie munson #steve x eddie #steddie #bisexual steve harrington #bisexual eddie munson #bi as hell bi the way #stranger things ficlet #stranger things fanfiction #rueleigh writes #rueleigh's thoughts

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mactavishsgfandwife · 1 year ago

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Dad!Simon Taking Your Daughter to the Optician’s (Fluff)

another random one but OMG imagine your daughter had needed those adorable baby glasses and simon took her to the optician to buy a pair 😭 like awwwwweewwwwwwwwe purest domestic fluff ever, not proofread

He pulls her tiny, pink raincoat off of the coat hangers by the door, along with his own black bomber jacket that he holds under one arm, and he tenderly leans down to zip up her little jacket - the one with cutesy rubber ducks embroidered at the cuffs. Most people wouldn’t immediately assume them to be father and daughter. This huge, intimidating military man with sunglasses on in early Spring to hide his eyes and a small silver dog tag dangling down around his neck, dwarfed by his broad shoulders - and reaching her hand up to hold his, babbling something unintelligible about rocks, a little girl. Her hair was carefully tied into bunches - Simon had tried to do it himself but he somehow managed to miss out half of her hair, so he lifted her up over his shoulder as if he were a firefighter and went to find you.

"Y’married a soldier, not a hairdresser," he grinned, a little bit embarrassed.

At the optician’s, he guides his little girl around the room, inspecting the shelves of different glasses. He holds her soft, little hand in his big, tough one. For a moment, he is distracted by some informational poster on the wall, but a sudden exasperated gasp from the 3 year old at his feet pulls him back to reality right away. Looking down, he sees her chubby hands holding a pair of adult sunglasses to her eyes, a big grin on her face.

"Glasses! Want glasses, daddy!" she giggles, the specs falling wonky on her little button nose. Simon laughs softly, crouching down to get closer to his baby, his elbows resting on the denim of his jeans.

"You can have glasses, love… but those are too big for a littl’un like you," he leans in to kiss her soft forehead, and tries to place the sunglasses back, as her little fingers paw at them.

"What about these ones..?" he smiles, holding out a little pair of pink glasses, purple at the edges, with sweet little stars along the sides. That smile on his face is met by her exaggerated, pleading eyes and her little sad pout, still trying to reach her hands out to the sunglasses that her daddy had meanly placed on a high shelf. :(

Simon finally settles on buying the sunglasses ‘for himself’, rolling his eyes with a small chuckle as he helps fit those cute, purple glasses to his little girl’s face, turning her to look at herself in the mirror of the shop.

"Ahh!" she lets out a little, excited squeal, "I love it, Daddy!"

"You look so pretty, little girl," he smiles protectively, trying not to laugh as he sees her chubby, grinning face looking up at him behind those glasses that make her eyes seem twice as big as normal.

Her little mary-jane shoes run in circles around the shop, as she lets out little squeaks of joy and mumbles to herself - in the end, it takes your husband a whole 10 minutes to convince her to take them off so that he can buy them, and on the walk home she does her best to speed ahead of him (not that he would ever actually allow her out of his sight), shouting, "Faster, Daddy!", alternating between running away from him and walking slow at his side, panting from the running until he caved and carried her. She was just so excited and couldn’t wait to go home and show Mummy. <3

And she looks so cute when she excitedly rushes into the kitchen, screwing up her face and giggling as she tells you all about her new glasses, Simon leaning against the doorframe in the background and chuckling softly as he watches, unable to hide how much he loves his little family.

i love him so much i’m crying tears thanks for reading lovelies! x

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miguelhugger2099 · 11 months ago

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Quiet Loving

Summary: Miguel loves you and your little family so much.

A/N: made seconds before I fell asleep last night

In the comfort of your husbands arms, you buried yourself closer—it was never close enough in your opinion.

Miguel shared the same sentiment, his beefy and strong arms were firm around your body, tugging you closer in his lap. One arm around your waist and the other cradling your head in the crook of his neck.

When he held you like this, he felt at peace. He didn’t know how else to explain it other than that it felt right. It felt like it mattered—the only thing that mattered. He leaned into to smell your hair, your signature shampoo scent invading his senses and calming his nerves.

Miguel tightened his embrace around you. You were never close enough.

He loved you dearly. Too much, it was borderline concerning to others but not to you.

Footsteps patted down the stairs of your home. Lifting your head from his neck, Miguel groaned—missing the warmth and weight of you. He felt like half of his puzzle piece was missing.

You looked over to see the culprit of the loud unstable stomps down the steps. Your daughter Gabriella, in her purple pajamas, was holding her baby brother, Isaac. Your eyebrows knit in worry to match her own expression.

“Que pasó, mija?” You call out to her and she stands in front of you and Miguel on the couch. Gabriella bounces Isaac in her arms while he babbles and coughs.

“Zee-Zee woke up and I tried putting him back to sleep but…” She holds the baby out to you when Isaac winds up to start crying.

You quickly take your baby boy in your arms and cradle him to your chest. Miguel carefully shuffles you off his lap and tugs his daughter to him.

“I didn’t…I thought I could help Mami.” She whispers to her father. Miguel gives her a soft smile, reaching up to pat her head before ushering her in his lap.

She crawls into his embrace, resting her back on his chest and her head leans on his shoulder. Miguel brings his arms around his little girl, ignoring how bigger she’s gotten since the last time he held her like this.

“You did help Mami, mijita.” Miguel coos. His hand squeezes her tiny shoulder. “It’s the thought that counts. Did he just wake up?”

Gabriella shakes her head. “He was awake for a bit before I realized he wouldn’t sleep.”

Miguel nods and looks over at you as you held his son in your arms. His heart swells with love and pride. He couldn’t ask for a better woman to be the mother of his kids. He couldn’t ask for a better wife to be married to him. He couldn’t ask for a better person to spend his remaining days with.

“Well, I think you did a pretty good job. He didn’t start crying until he saw Mama right?” Gabriella nods. “That means Isaac knew you were there for him. And you knew to bring him to Mama so when he saw her, he felt safe enough to start crying. You did your part, corazón.”

Gabriella sighs, not feeling convinced. Miguel pokes her chest where a purple star was printed on her pajama shirt.

“And I’ll even ignore the fact that you were supposed to be sleeping.” He whispers next to her ear and Gabriella giggles.

“Sorry, Papi.” She mumbles bashfully and hides in his neck. Miguel’s heart softens. He could never be mad at his princess. His hand pets her hair which lulls her to sleep. She was still at an age where early bedtimes were a must, her little body unable to handle staying awake past 10:30.

“It’s okay. It’ll be our little secret.” He whispers as she yawns and snuggles close to her father, her chubby cheek squished on his firm chest.

You look over and grow amused at the sight. A tough man with scars and hard features, turned into putty when his little girl was curled into a ball in his arms. He always held a soft spot for his firstborn—his princess. Miguel’s eyes meet yours and they brightened. No matter what, however, you held most of the space in his heart—his queen.

“Bed?” You asked him softly as you rocked Isaac in your arms. He nodded and you both got up from the couch to head upstairs to their room. Miguel grunted as he moved Gabriella carefully, tucking his arm underneath her legs to carry her bridal style. Gabriella got even not comfortable and Miguel noticed how heavier she’d gotten. He bites back a smile, a soft twinge of melancholy as he realizes how much she’s growing.

You place Isaac in his crib, making sure to wrap him snuggly in his blanket and surrounding the corners and walls with pillows in case he rolls around. Miguel puts Gabriella down gently in her twin sized bed, tucking her blanket up to her chin and plopping her stuffed teddy bear by her head.

Miguel feels you wrap your arms around his waist, you head between his shoulder blades. Miguel grows goosebumps along his skin and he can’t resist the urge to turn around to face you. He cups your cheeks and leans down to pepper your smiling face with kisses. You stifle giggles, not wanting to wake the children.

“Miggy..!” You whisper to him but he only takes you back into his arms where you belong. The only way to stop him from showering you in his affection was when you physically pulled him off you, your hand ins his hair. He has a dopey grin on his face, a look of utter bliss of just putting his kids to sleep with the woman he loves. The woman he had these beautiful babies with. The woman who gave him these beautiful babies. He could never thank you enough.

Miguel shuts the door behind him, making sure all lights are turned off and double checking that the kids are asleep. Back in your bedroom, Miguel is on you once more. His body weighs on top of yours while he kisses you deeply and lovingly. If you two were younger, it would’ve delved into intimacy—stripping off clothes and having to cover your moans with his hand.

But these kisses were anything but lustful. They were a love letter, a language that only you two understood. Miguel spoke of his admiration for you, not just for your body but for your mind and soul. Each kiss was gentle and left no room for longing when he added another kiss immediately right after the other.

His hands pulled your body up to him. No matter how hard he tried he was always unsatisfied that you weren’t close enough. It was never enough. He wanted to drown in you, worship you and be one with you. Some call him obsessed.

He sighed after one final kiss, but even then his lips lingered above yours. Miguel’s eyes followed each scar you had, each freckle or mole, the color of your lips—oh, he adored it all.

“Te amo, te quiero.” He whispered, hurriedly like he needed you to know even when you already did. He was hopelessly in love with you.

“I love you more.” You whisper back.

“Impossible.”

You smile, knowing that Miguel would always want to win this game of who loved each other more. He was so stubborn it would go on for days. When you relented, he rewarded you with love—kissing you silly until you were breathless. Despite being the “loser”, you always felt like the winner at the end.

Miguel rests on top of you, your hand in his hair as his nose breathes by your neck. Your fingernails scratch his scalp and he hums in delight. His thumb rubs up and down your skin by your stomach. He feels the scars of your stretch marks and the rest of the chub you had gained from pregnancy. You never got a second of doubt in your mind when all Miguel did was remind you how gorgeous you were to him.

He lazily presses more kisses to your neck until he grew too sleepy to move. Miguel had grown comfortable in your arms while you held him and his weight felt nice—especially when he could be switched out with a blanket.

Miguel finally falls into a deep slumber and you follow suit, his hand slowly coming to a stop.

A/N: i feel like if miguel hugged me i wouldn’t be mentally ill 🤔

#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel x reader #miguel o'hara x you #miguel o'hara #atsv miguel #miguel spiderman #miguel spiderverse #miguel ohara #spiderman 2099 #miguel x you #miguel o'hara imagine

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sweetchildcloud · 1 year ago

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||MINI ME|| written by me ☆~♡~◇

Plot: Gojo being an affectionate father as he meets his baby for the first time.

Tags-Breast feeding mention,lots of cuddles,fluff,fatherly love,heartwarming,cute overload.

@muzansslxt @candy69gurl @kiwicopia

“You’re cuter” Gojo teases, but he is pleased. He likes watching you nurse Hotaru. It’s a special moment, for the both of you and your child. “He’s adorable” Satoru continues, his voice dripping with affection “but his mother… hm, far more gorgeous" Satoru laughs softly and pulls the baby in for a tight squeeze. Then, he lifts his head and stares at him once more, holding him at arm's length. The baby’s eyes are wide and bright, like stars in the sky "You have my eyes, little one. You have my eyes...and that adorable chuckle" He adds, before grinning to himself. It feels good looking at his baby. Good and strange. The whole situation was a bit surreal, in a good way, but... "I think I'm starting to understand what being a dad means"

Hatoru yawned as he wobbled scooting near his father chest and laying his head on his shoulder.

Satoru grins as he feels the weight of his son’s head resting on his shoulder. He gently caress Hotaru’s head as the baby falls asleep, and Satoru’s hand comes down to rub soft circles on his son’s back.

Hatoru yawned and he whimpered softly as he couldn't sleep continuously sifting in his dad embrace.

Satoru looks down at his son, noticing the baby’s tired, watery eyes. Immediately, he feels guilt again, realizing that his son is still adjusting to his new surroundings and hasn’t gotten used to falling asleep by himself yet. With a gentle sigh, he pulls Hotaru close to himself again, his grip tightening around the baby as a way to offer more comfort. “Shh” Satoru whispers quietly as he rocks his son “It’s okay… I’m here. I’m here….”

But that didn't help much as Hotaru whimper continued, his tiny fists clutching to his chest as he whimpers, more maybe he needed his pacifier.

Satoru’s heart twists when he hears the cries continue. He couldn’t stand seeing his son like this, with his tiny fists clutching his cheeks and his big, blue eyes so watery. Without a second thought, he pulls out a pacifier from his pocket and pops it into Hotaru’s mouth. The baby chews on the pacifier with an adorable expression, sucking on it as he does. “Better?” Satoru smiles, letting out a breath of relief.

Satoru stares at his son for a long moment, his breath caught in his throat over how *tiny* the baby is. His tiny fists on Satoru’s chest, his chubby cheeks as they wobble with his yawns, a small smear of drool as he sucks on the pacifier—everything about the little one makes Satoru’s heart swell. The baby looks incredibly adorable right now, and Satoru can’t help but feel a little happy to see the little one so calm.

"Boop" Gojo said soflty as he booped softly Hatoru little bitty nose with the tip of his finger and the baby made a cooing noise curling up his nose.

You sighed looking at the two of them and how cute they were before you let a yawn of your own "Let's go to bed sweetie" you said tiredly at Gojo.

“In a few minutes” Satoru pouted whispering, his gaze still on his son. “Just…” The baby’s sleepy eyes are adorable, and he can’t help but feel affectionate seeing them in this state. “Just let me cherish this moment, please?”

"Oh my god you're so adorable, you're not having a baby fever now are you?" You asked smirking looking at him.

“Maybe a little...” Satoru smiles, not denying it. The entire situation with them becoming parents was a bit overwhelming, but... it was so worth it. He loves it here, with his son in his arms, smiling at him just as he is. “You’re not jealous are you? And “If you mean ‘is seeing my baby like this making me feel all kinds of feels’? Yes” he answers, feeling a bit sheepish “And if it’s not baby fever, then… I don’t even know what to call it. Just watching him sleep makes me smile for some reason”

He paused before adding

“Is that weird?” He asks, still admiring Hotaru’s sleeping form. “I just feel…” A strange feeling of warmth erupted throughout his body. Love, maybe? “I feel content”

"No,not at all,it just means that you love your son and I feel the same" you said caressing softly the baby cheek as he sleeps

The warm sensation spreads through Gojo’s chest as he stares down at his son. Hatoru is so small and innocent that he makes Gojo want to cover him in kisses and hugs. He never imagined being a father would make him feel like this. Love and affection, sure, but this… this is a whole new world of emotions that he’s never experienced before. “It’s a nice feeling” he murmurs. “A very nice feeling”

“We should get to bed now, right?” He asks, still watching his son’s sleeping face, then looking over to you. He doesn’t want to miss this moment, but he also doesn’t want you to exhaust yourself.

"You can bring the baby in our bed so that we can sleep together"

Satoru looks down at Hotaru at your suggestion and his heart flutters. Yes. He wants that. He wants that very, *very* much. The two of you could sleep in bed with the baby together. Hold him close as he sleeps. It would be the most content moment of his life. Satoru swallows, trying to keep himself from smiling like an idiot. “That’s a great idea”

Satoru nods and gets up, taking his son in his arms once more. The baby is *so* light. So delicate. So cute. He chuckles as he follows you up the stairs, and walks into the bedroom. Your bed is large enough for a king, and it doesn’t take you long to climb into bed and pull Hotaru with each of you at either side. “We’re a family” Satoru whispers, his voice nearly breaking. “We’re a family now”

"Are you crying?" You asked giggling softly at your husband antics.

Satoru gives you a sheepish smile. It’s true, he has tears in his eyes. Not tears of sadness, but tears of pure joy. “Am I crying?” he chuckles softly, wiping his eyes. “Maybe just a little. This—” he gestures to their family in bed “—it’s just so beautiful… so precious…” “We created this…” He continues. “Me and you, together, we created this perfect thing” Satoru smiles again, his voice cracking with emotion as he stares down at his son. “There’s nothing better in the world than this”

“You’re a sentimental idiot” you giggled and rolled your eyes amusedly, but you didn't object when Satoru sweeps you up in a warm embrace and pulls you close to hug you. You’re a family now. Hotaru is yours, and together, you are more than you’ve ever been.

Bonus:

Satoru laughs softly, pressing his face against you “I’m a sentimental idiot” He agrees, smiling against your cheek. “But my God, I don’t think there’s anything in the world that can make me so happy right now. You and our baby…” He trails off as he continues to embrace you contented and completely at ease as you both slowly drift off to sleep.

♤♡◇♧☆♤♡◇♧☆♤♡◇♧☆♤♡◇♧☆♤

Me thinking about this:

☆Happy,happy,happy~☆

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katebishopsbow · 1 year ago

Text

SOMEDAY IT WILL ALL BE OKAY • MAX VERSTAPPEN

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader (platonic)

summary: watching kevin and his daughter, laura, playing together at the paddock makes you emotional as you remember the love that you never get to receive growing up. max is here to remind you that your past doesn't define you, and one day you will be okay.

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, daddy issues, mentions of absent parent

word count: 3.1k

author's notes: based on the real-life event of me tearing up when i saw that video of kmag's daughter playing with his visor. healing my own daddy issues one fic at a time :)

(image is not mine)

─────── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───────

Kevin Magnussen is a great dad.

People can say whatever they want about his driving – aggressive and maybe a little dangerous sometimes – but there is no denying that he is an amazing father who puts his daughters above all else. The Dane is always joking about how his two little troublemakers have been giving him a constant headache, but the rest of the grid knows that he would do just about anything for his girls.

Occasionally, Louise likes bringing Laura and Agnes to the track to see their dad at work. Being a Formula 1 driver with all the hectic schedules and non-stop traveling means that family time together can often be difficult to come by, so Kevin cherishes all the time he gets to be as present in their lives as possible.

The drivers all love it when the Magnussens visit the track, not only because Laura and Agnes are the sweetest little angels ever, but also because they get to witness the rare sight of Kevin “tough guy” Magnussen shedding his hard exterior and tease him about the heartwarmingly softer side he displays to his family.

And while you would never admit this out loud, somewhere residing deep within you is envious – envious of this kind of love that you never got to receive. Sometimes when you look at Kevin interacting with his daughters – just sometimes – you find yourself wondering what it would be like to have a father who is present, who genuinely cares, who loves you with everything they have so much that you never have to doubt your worthiness.

･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.

You were standing with a few other drivers at the track, idly chatting about the upcoming race and your holiday plans now that the winter break is right around the corner when Kevin suddenly saunters nearby, holding the hand of the most adorable little girl. “Laura, come say hi!” he kneels down and says to her, sporting the biggest and most loving smile on his face as his daughter gives a shy little wave to the crowd of drivers before her.

“Hey there, Laura,” you wave at her, settling on a simple greeting since you have never been particularly great with children. “Hello, little one!” Lando greets with a wide grin as he offers Laura a fist bump, and the girl explodes into giggles when he pretends to yelp in pain at how hard Laura fist-bumped him. Classic Lando – always so good with kids.

“She’s got quite the punch, doesn’t she?” Kevin jokes while he chuckles at the sight, admiring the joyous smile on Laura’s face with the tenderest gaze he only reserves for his daughter. Becoming a father is the best thing that has happened to him, and he thanks the stars every day for being blessed with such precious gifts of life. Laura and Agnes – his biggest pride and joy.

“Here to be dad’s little assistant, Laura?” Max asks, his nose scrunching up in an adoring smile like the way it always does when he speaks to Penelope. The little girl nods bashfully before running to hide behind her dad, holding onto his hands as if he is her safe place, her rock.

Kevin laughs at his daughter’s endearing shyness, picks her up and envelops her in his embrace before placing a kiss on her rosy, chubby cheeks. “You’re the best assistant in the entire world,” he whispers softly, adoration swimming in his eyes while Laura lets out a giggle at her father’s words. The drivers around them cannot help but smile along with them – how can they not at such a heartwarming sight?

Yet watching Kevin’s doting smiles and the way he looks at his daughter as if she is his entire universe, the initial warm fuzziness within you silently morphs into a dull ache that squeezes at your heart – an odd yet familiar feeling you know all too well. Despite your best efforts to push them away, your mind becomes clouded with hazy memories of the past – the painful past that has broken you and haunted you for years.

In the fogged-up memories of your childhood days, you were never at the receiving end of such an affectionate gaze. The only way your father has ever looked at you was indifference, annoyance, and a sense of uncaringness that tore your little heart up into pieces and left you wondering what you did wrong to be so undeserving of the fatherly love you yearned for.

He never picked you up and hugged you as if you were a fragile treasure that he cherished. He never held your hand in a way that made you feel safe and certain that nothing could ever harm you because he would be your shield, protecting you from the world and its merciless cruelty. He never once made you feel loved and cared for, ignoring your attempts to gain his validation and approval because he loved himself and his ego more than he would ever love you.

When you received good grades at school and showed him your report card with the rows of A’s, hoping that it would help you get his approval, he didn’t praise you. In fact, he didn’t bother saying anything. He simply gave you a half-hearted nod before shifting his attention back to the damned television screen in front of him, some uninteresting TV show that never should have mattered more than his daughter. So you stuffed the tear-stained report card back into your school bag, uncaring that it got crushed and crumpled, because in the end your hard work and effort didn’t matter. It never did.

When you had a rough day at school and came home with tears running down your cheeks, your father looked at you for a second, rolled his eyes and walked away. So that night you cried yourself to sleep as you soaked through your pillows with your wallowing tears, wishing that your dad could wrap you in his arms and tell you that everything would be okay. You knew that he could hear your sobs across the hallway, but chose to ignore you anyway. You wondered if he hated you that much, or was it simply because he never even cared to begin with?

And when he finally gathered all his belongings and disappeared from your life once and for all, you surprised yourself when you didn’t cry at the sight of the now-empty house. You had just felt empty and lonely – so painstakingly lonely. The kind of loneliness that seeped into your bones and slithered along your veins and consumed your soul.

As you grew older, you became familiarized with that emptiness – comfortable with it even. You begin to find yourself pushing people away when they get too close, keeping most at arm's length because that seems like the safest option, breaking your own heart before others can do it because you never want to experience the same heartbreak your father has put you through.

Despite how painful it is, you hold onto that loneliness like a lifeline because how could you not when that’s the only thing you know? How could you love when you don’t even know what it feels like?

Even though it had been years since your dad had left, the emptiness he had left behind never seemed to fade away. They say time heals all wounds, but you call that bullshit, because then why does it still hurt like a fresh stab into the heart?

Too deep in your storm of thoughts, you don’t realize the tears brimming in your glossy eyes and the way your lips quiver ever so slightly. “Hey… you okay there?” Charles, who is standing beside you, gives you an affectionate pat on the shoulders and whispers hushedly in your ear, worried at your sudden change in demeanor. Quickly nodding your head, you answer him with the best smile you can manage, “Yeah, just remembering some things.”

While most of the drivers still have their focus on Kevin and Laura, a few have also noticed your red-rimmed eyes and quietness. “What’s wrong?” Lando mouths the question silently toward you, eyes wide in concern as he tries not to shift everybody’s attention toward you. You shake your head and mouth “nothing” in reply to him as discreetly as possible, not wanting to ruin the group’s mood with your sudden sentiments.

As much as you want to stay, you simply need to get away for a moment to recollect your thoughts. “Uh – There’s something I need from my driver’s room, so I’m gonna head off,” you hurriedly blink away the tears and put on the best smile – a skill you learned to master after years of being in the public’s eye. You hope that the excuse you just blurted out is somewhat believable, and you quickly disappear into the distance after your fellow drivers bid you goodbye.

While making a beeline for your driver's room, you cannot help but feel so embarrassed, so guilty for the sudden burst of emotions that erupted in your chest moments ago. “What is wrong with me?” you mumble hushedly to yourself as you make your way to the garage – irritated and beyond annoyed at yourself that the mere sight of Kevin with his daughter is enough to bring you to tears.

This isn’t something new to you. It isn’t the first time a good father-daughter relationship has made you tear up. Movies, TV shows, song lyrics – you always get so emotional when you allow yourself to get lost in your thoughts, thinking too deeply about the painful reminders of the love that you never have.

It makes you feel stupid, because how broken do you have to be that trivial things like these are enough to make you cry? And it makes you feel scared, so utterly scared, because what if you were too broken to ever be capable of loving someone this much, too damaged to ever receive love despite yearning for it, and end up pushing away everyone who cares about you for the rest of your life.

When you arrive at your driver's room, you take a seat in the corner, breathing in and out while the self-blaming thoughts inside your head spiral in full force. This is so stupid, you are being stupid, and you hate yourself for being a fool and letting your past trauma affect you like this. Why were you even crying? There is nothing to be crying for. Stop. You need to stop.

Then you hear someone calling your name, voice faint and soft behind the door – Max. “You feeling okay?” he asks, and your delayed response and trembling voice as you answer him, “I’m fine.” are a clear enough indicator that you are far from okay. “Alright, I’m gonna come in now.” A sigh of mixed emotions falls from your lips – annoyance that you never seem to be able to lie to the man, and gratefulness that he always understands what you really need, and right now it is the company of your best friend.

“Hey, kiddo,” he says to you, eyebrows ceasing in sadness when he notices the expression on your face. Max hates seeing you like this, especially knowing the reason behind your tears is your absent father – someone who will never be worthy of having you cry over him.

You wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your race suit, guilt weighing heavily on your chest as you apologize, “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to ruin the mood back there. Did the other drivers notice?” Max shakes his head with a frown, refusing to let you blame yourself for something you should never feel guilty for. “You don’t have to be sorry, you did nothing wrong.”

“I don’t even know why I am crying, honestly. Why am I still so angry and sad after all these years? It’s like… am I always going to be like this, broken? Will the hurt ever go away?” you explain truthfully to him while trying to piece your muddle-up thoughts together, yet you struggle to put them into words. How can you begin to explain the years of trauma your dad has left behind? How can you describe the mess of emotions you have for him – the hatred, the resentment, and the fact that you still love and miss him so much even after everything he has done to you?

You don’t need to, because Max understands, he always does. One of the reasons why you two became close quickly is because you share a similar, troubled past – something that is rather unfortunate to bond over, you would argue, but it brings you a great friend nonetheless. Max’s father isn’t exactly absent like yours – Jos Verstappen is still quite prominent in his life, along with his abusive and manipulative ways of raising his kids which he would vehemently deny and claims to be “tough love” instead.

Even though he is there, it doesn’t change the painful truth that the presence of his father has ruined Max. For years, he thought being violent was the way to solve problems because his dad always seemed to be able to solve his with his fist. He used to believe that you had to be perfect to be deserving of good things in life because he grew up with the punishment of “no dinner” if he had performed poorly in a race. He didn’t know if he would ever be capable of loving someone, and then he met Kelly and Penelope.

“You know… when I first met Penelope, I was terrified. I was scared that I could never be a good enough father figure for her, that I was too ruined to show her the love she deserved to have. But then I saw her, and then I realized I love her more than anything,” he confesses as he places himself to sit beside you, a reminiscent smile dancing on his lips while he remembers his first time meeting Penelope, the little girl who has become his family.

He remembers the suffocating fear of ending up like his father when he first held the hands of little Penelope, mind plagued with all the horrible what-ifs. What if he was a terrible dad? What if he couldn’t ever love Penelope? What if he was just like Jos Verstappen and ended up destroying her childhood with his anger and temper the way his dad had with his?

Then Penelope gave him a sweet smile, her tiny hand holding onto his pinky as she looked into his eyes with such trust and comfort, as if she knew that Max would love her more than anything in the world. Max genuinely thought he was going to cry, his heart surging with an overwhelming amount of love and determination to protect the little girl in front of her and give her the home she and Kelly deserve to have, and that’s when he knew that he had nothing to be afraid of – that he was going to do better than his father.

“Listen, kiddo. Time doesn’t heal all wounds, it just makes the pain bearable. But there will be a day when your wound will still be there – it always will be there – but the pain and the hatred will no longer consume you. And you will realize that you can be better and stronger than your past, that you can break the cycle, that you are deserving of such unconditional love too.” You listen quietly to your best friend’s answer, exhaling a relieved sigh at the words you so desperately need to hear, giving you hope that despite all your trauma, one day you will be able to love with such certainty as well.

You are never too broken to love or be loved. You are not damaged goods that need repairing. You are not a monster for being intimidated by love and affection, for pushing people away even though you want more than anything for them to stay. You just need to allow yourself to heal from the hurtful past, to understand that your past trauma does not define you. You need to allow yourself to feel, to accept the depths of your emotions, to understand that your sadness and anger are always valid. You need to believe that you will be better than your father, that you will not follow in his footsteps, and that you deserve to be loved just as much as anyone else.

Feeling sentimental over this doesn’t make you stupid or a fool, it just makes you human. It is okay to cry over it, to be sad over it, as long as you remember that one day – while things will never be perfect – it will certainly get better.

“You’re gonna be okay,” Max tells you with a smile, reaching for your hand to give it a comforting squeeze, and you believe him. For once in a very long time, you genuinely believe that everything is going to be okay. The impact your father has on you will always be there. You can never wipe away the hurt and awful things he has done to you, nor can you simply erase the simultaneous love and hatred you hold for him, but one day you will learn to move on and find closure, and you are going to be okay, just like Max said.

There is a knock on the door, and you can hear your name being called again, this time in the soft and squeaky voice of a little girl. “I’m here,” you answer, and peeking behind the gap in the door is Laura with a cheeky grin on her face. Kevin leads her inside your driver's room with an apologetic smile, “Hey, sorry… Laura says she wants to play with you and insists that I bring her here.”

You watch as Laura crawls up into the seat next to you and Max, looking at you with the brightest toothy little grin ever, and your lips begin pulling up into a huge smile as well. “Is it okay if she plays here for a while? I’ve got a team meeting in 5 and she never likes coming to those…” Kevin asks apologetically before relief floods his expression when you answer him, “It would be lovely to have a little playdate with Laura.”

“Alrighty, see you later little one,” Kevin leans down to place a kiss on his daughter’s head, reminding her to be a good kid when he is away for the meeting, and you smile at the sight. Not an envious one, or a reminiscent one, but one of contentment because you know that one day you will be able to receive and give such unconditional love to someone too.

Someday, it will be okay. You will be okay.

#f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine #kevin magnussen x reader #f1 drivers x reader

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bucksangel · 2 days ago

Text

no feelin' in the firelight

pairing: chubby!alpha!bucky barnes x omega!reader

word count: 1.9k

summary: A normal Friday night turns into something so much more when Bucky asks if you remember the night you met.

warnings: the end is suggestive so 18+ only PLEASE and THANK YOU, omegaverse, true mates, love at first sight, proposals, this is just a whole lot of fluff, like there’s nothing but cavities here, some teasing but it’s out of love

masterlist | tip jar | ao3

a/n: this is one of the shortest things i’ve ever written but i’m in a bit of a funk with writing so i wanted to do something short and sweet, so here y’all go!

"Do you remember the night we met?" The deep timbre of Bucky's voice washes over you, blanketing you in its richness and warming you almost as much as the bonfire only a few feet away. A smile breaks across your face, and you can't help the quiet giggle that escapes your lips at the memory.

It was nearing seven, and the sky was shrouded in dark clouds, fat droplets of water pouring down from the heavens and soaking all of Brooklyn, forcing all its occupants to seek shelter. You'd been sitting at a table in the back corner of Irene's Diner for a few hours before the rain started and decided to wait out the storm while reading your newest find from the used bookstore nearby.

You were content to read in the silence of the empty shop with your food long since eaten and your second cup of coffee already halfway gone, but then the front door was nearly ripped off its hinges and the bell above it dinged wildly as someone entered. It was a man, an Alpha, who stood well over six feet tall. His biceps bulged against his sweater that was now soaked to his skin, his thighs looked to be suffocating in those jeans, and his belly, oh god his belly. So soft and round, and you could immediately envision yourself coming home from a long day at work to rest your head on the man's chest and feel his body pressing against yours to ease your worries.

He's the type of Alpha to make any Omega swoon, and you swooned. Oh, did you swoon. You swooned internally and, horrifyingly, externally as well. The high-pitched squeak you let out when his eyes met yours made you wish for the ground to open and swallow you whole. But, come on, one could arguably say that the Alpha was having a bad day, and yet he still looked and smelled like that. His scent - fresh cedar wood with a hint of floral - wasn't overpowered by the smell of the rain mixed with the grass that was freshly cut only hours before, like it should have been. Given the environment, you'd have been surprised that you could smell anything resembling his true scent if you didn't instinctively know why you could -

He's your mate. You know it. Just by smell alone, you know that he is your one true love.

And, judging by the look of shock and awe on the Alpha's face, you would assume he's thinking something similar about you.

"I do," You whisper back, fiddling with Bucky's fingers that rest on your stomach. It's a standard Friday night and you're laying in the hammock you have set up in your backyard, your back to Bucky's chest as you stare up at the stars, and a mischievous glint forms in your eyes. "I remember thinking you looked like a drowned kitten - hey!" You're cut off by your Alpha poking you in the side, breaking off into giggles as he tickles you some more until you're squirming enough to rock the hammock.

"Are you sorry now, 'mega?" Bucky asks cockily, and you can't see his face, but you know he's smiling - probably that dopey one he always wears when he looks at you. "Are you sorry for making fun of your Alpha?"

"No." It's true; he knows you're not sorry, and he knows you'll tease him again. Does he mind, though? Not one bit. He'll let you get away with saying just about anything if it means you keep talking to him with that soft tone and that sparkle in your eyes you reserve only for him.

"Here I was about to go on about how I knew you were my mate from the moment our eyes locked and you're teasing me," Bucky huffs, and you don't even try to stop your eyes from rolling. God, he's so dramatic.

"I'm teasing you because I love you." Immediately, Bucky deflates, and you can feel the unwavering love he has for you flowing through the bond at your declaration, which makes you settle in place as well.

"And I love you, my mate," Bucky says, nuzzling your temple with a soft smile.

Growing up hearing about bonds and mates had prepared you for meeting yours; you'd daydreamed about the perfect partner and planned out your futures by thirteen years old. Your parents had instilled in you that while you may be an Omega, you were no less deserving of love and respect than an Alpha, and that you should never settle for less than that. And while dating was a little difficult due to quite a bit of Alphas having more traditional views of relationships and designations, your parents never let you fall into their traps. You understand you're extremely lucky to have the parents you do, but after a while it seemed like you'd never meet an Alpha that would treat you the way they said you should be treated.

But then July 21st of 2022 came around, and the Alpha you and your parents always wanted for you came walking into your life, turning it upside down and going so far beyond what you expected out of a relationship that even after two years together, you're still not quite sure if Bucky is just a dream.

It hits you right then, the feeling of being loved and being in love with someone who has made a five-hour round-trip to get your parents and bring them to his house after theirs was damaged in a storm, letting them stay with you two until their place could get fixed.

You're in love with someone who volunteers at the local library, reading to the kids, even watching over them for a short time so their parents can get some shopping done in peace.

You're in love with a caring and selfless Alpha, who gives you anything you could ever want, and all he asks for in return is you.

You've always known you wanted to marry Bucky, so you're not sure why it feels like a revelation when it crosses your mind just now, but it does. It feels like new information, as though you haven't known you were going to spend the rest of your life with him from the moment he came up to your table, soaked and sheepish, letting you know that he doesn't mean to be a stereotypical Alpha but he has to let you know that you're beautiful and he also really loves the author whose book you're reading.

"Omega?" Bucky's gentle voice breaks you out of your thoughts, and you crane your neck to smile back at him.

"You know I'm going to marry you, right?" You don't know why you say it; it's just the first thing that comes to mind. But your Alpha's reaction to your sudden declaration doesn't disappoint.

"Well, currently, my only life plan involves being with you forever, so I can only hope you want to marry me too," Bucky chuckles, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips. It's only brief, though, because you pull back and turn as much as you can so you can look into your Alpha's eyes.

"No, like..." You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip as you think over what to say. You're not sure what you want to say exactly, but when your mate is Bucky Barnes, it's a little hard to think of any words in any language that can properly convey how you feel. "I know we've talked about it a little, and that it's kind of a given since we're true mates. But, whether we're mates or not, I'd still choose to marry you. I'd still choose to love you even if fate tried to lie to me and say that you're not meant for me. I have our whole wedding planned out, too. What food we're going to have, the color schemes, I'm even thinking you can train Alpine to be the flower girl and carry a basket of roses down the aisle. Like, I've planned everything. I'm going to marry you, Bucky Barnes. I'm serious."

"And you think I'm not?" He asks, and even though there's a hint of playfulness in his tone, the look in his eyes brings tears to yours. He just looks so damn happy, and that's all you want for him; all you want is to make him feel as happy and loved as he makes you feel.

Bucky shuffles a little, removing one of his arms from around your body so he can dig into the pocket of his jeans. He has a determined look on his face; your brows furrow in confusion when he takes whatever he had in his pocket out of it, and his hand is large enough that it completely encompasses whatever it is.

"What is it, Buck?" You ask, bringing up your hands to cover his closed one. When he nods to your joined hands, he uncurls his fingers to reveal what he was holding - a small black box.

A small black box.

All of the air leaves your lungs, and you know what it holds without even having to look at it. That doesn't stop a few tears from running down your cheeks and a small squeak from leaving your lips when you see the gorgeous gold band nestled inside.

"Wha -"

"I told you I was serious," Bucky murmurs, using his free hand to take out the ring and set the box aside so he can also hold your left hand. "I didn't exactly have a plan on when I was going to propose; I figured I would just know when the time is right. I didn't have any intentions of it being tonight, but now I know that I have to do it now."

There's a lump in your throat, your head is spinning, and you have to pinch yourself because if this is a dream, then you want to wake up now before he asks, and then it all goes away.

But it doesn't go away; the dream doesn't fizzle out when you feel that sharp pain. You'll ask Bucky later to tell you again what he said leading up to his question because all you can hear right now is your own heartbeat pounding away with each new word that his lips form. It's all a haze until -

"Will you marry me?"

You barely let him get the question out before you're practically screaming "yes!" into the air, then dive down to capture his lips with yours. The kiss is frantic and a little messy, and it's never been more perfect because it's a kiss with Bucky, your mate, your Alpha, your soon-to-be-husband. And the kiss goes on and on, your tongues tangling with each other as you explore old territory as though it's for the first time until the need to breathe outweighs your desperation to show your Alpha how much he means to you.

"Yes," You breathe against his lips when you pull back. It takes a few moments of laughing and sniffling for both of you to settle back into your original positions, but when you do, you stare up at the stars with a newfound appreciation.

"So," Bucky says, wrapping his arms around you even tighter now as he plays with your fingers, "tell me, what's our wedding going to be like?"

You end up falling asleep outside that night, talking about the plans for the ceremony and the possible honeymoon destinations until your voice gets scratchy and you can barely keep your eyes open.

And if there are tears of happiness in Bucky's eyes the whole time, then, well, it's not like your eyes are dry either.

taglist: @lilyalone @crazyunsexycool @goldylions @yeehawbrothers @buckysprettybaby @buckyssweetheart @heytheredelulu @somnorvos @ozwriterchick @pxgeturner @gentlelimerence @myfavbuckyfics @justsebstan @brookeleclerc @fandoms-writings @pocolottie

#let me know what yall think!!#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #chubby!bucky #chubby!bucky barnes #alpha!bucky #alpha!bucky barnes #my writing #my stuff #bucky fic rec

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hyukalyptus · 1 year ago

Text

a coincidence — rockstar!yeonjun x fem!reader

cw. rockstar!yeonjun x audiencemember!reader, chubby!reader implied, fem!reader, mentions of alcohol, oral (m. receiving), sex (condoms mentioned <3), roleplaying(?), orgasm denial, lmk if there's more. notes. this is part of @napofamoon's growing pain rock band!au collaboration :D thank you @nightlyawnzz for being a beta reader :3 and thank you angie for that one line of dialogue (didn't know if you wanted to like not be tagged lol), not super well edited, smut under cut <3 wc. 2.8K

Who is that? Yeonjun’s seen hundreds—thousands—of pretty girls at his concerts. But no one’s ever truly made an impression. Every once in a while, there’d be one that barely stuck out from the crowd, but nothing ever stuck. After a while, the crowds started getting blurry. Has performing become a bit boring for him? Maybe. There wasn’t a spark anymore. No reason to perform.

But you…you immediately caught his eye. A bright star in a sea of dull strangers—smiling, drinking, dancing to the music, having a blast. You looked fun, exciting, flirty. And he wanted—needed—to get to know you. But first, he needed to get your attention.

He’s cool, casual with his bass; he’s a natural. The way he moves with the music, pouty lips singing under his breath along with the frontman, the stage lights sparkling in his eyes—it didn’t take much focus for him to nail every song.

So he decided to have a bit of fun tonight. Moving a bit more, putting on a bit more of a show than usual, getting closer to the edge of the stage without being too obvious. All to get your attention. So why won’t you look at him? Just a bit closer and maybe…

Bingo.

You’ve locked eyes and there’s that something he’s been looking for. Something he’s been looking for for a while. That spark. That reason to put on a bit of a show.

And you could tell. You were just as into it as he was.

Watching his every move—flirting without crossing a line, giving him seductive looks, dancing in his direction. It was fun. It was thrilling. That unspoken desire between two strangers—and one of them admires the other before they’ve even met? How scandalous, hm? The tension grew and grew until—

“Thank you everyone; good night!”

But…what do you do now? How could he find you later? Oh, why didn’t he slip the security guard his number to give to you? Where are you? No, no, no, don’t leave.

There was nothing he could do; the lights were dim, the curtain was drawn, the crowd was spilling out the front door. You never left his mind, though. Not when he put his bass in its case, not when he zipped his hoodie up to leave, not when he plopped down on his hotel bed, never.

Desperately trying to get you off his mind, he heads down to the hotel bar. Oh, how pathetic is this? A world-famous rock star sitting alone at a hotel’s bar sipping a whiskey feeling sorry for himself? Over what? Some girl?

Please don’t sit there…he begs silently watching a strange figure take the seat in the bar stool next to him. Despite the need for alone time, he couldn’t help but glance over at the sound of your—

“Just a vodka soda, please.”

Oh, shit. It’s you. What does he do? Why are his hands so sweaty? When did he turn into such a loser? Getting this worked up over a girl. He needs to get your attention again, but he doesn't want to come off too pushy. You’re here alone too and maybe you wanna keep it that way.

Fuck it.

He clears his throat, cooly-maybe-not-so-cooly saying, “I saw you in the audience.” Just as you planned. Well, sort of. You didn’t mean to run into him. Glancing across the room at the hotel you were staying in to see that hot bassist sitting alone at the bar was pure luck.

But you need to keep it cool. Don’t be too…weird. Just a simple glance and gentle nod is enough.

“Did you enjoy the show?” He asks, knowing your answer. He could see your desire just as much as you could see his, but you weren’t gonna give in just yet. You nod again, adding a quiet hum. “Are you from around here or…?” Should he move a bit closer? Sure. Should he brush your knee with his fingertips? Why not? Oh, they give you goosebumps. You don’t pull away or even flinch. You’re welcoming this.

“No, I’m here on business. That’s why I’m, you know, at a hotel right now.”

“Right.” He pauses, like he has to think of the next thing to say, “I’m Yeonjun, by the way. But you already knew that.”

“And what makes you think that?”

“No reason,” he snarks. “Just that you bought a ticket to my show.”

“As if,” you roll your eyes. “I was bored and the show was right down the street.” Lie. All of this was lies. Of course you were a fan. Both of you knew that.

“So you got front-row seats from a scalper then?”

Now it’s time for some fun. Turning toward him, you introduce yourself, face inching closer and closer, his hand sneaking up higher on your thigh, your heartbeat getting faster with each millimeter. You maintain your confidence best you know how, but you must admit, he’s intimidating. Is it that way he unapologetically stares at your body? The way he’s flirting with a fan after a show? The way his lips look like they’d perfectly wrap around your—

“Do you always find fans to flirt with after the show?”

“No. Never,” he chuckles, shaking his head. “But you’re so…” he tucks some fallen hair behind your ear, eyes roaming your face, “gorgeous. I haven’t stopped thinking about you in the audience. Then boom, here you are at my hotel’s bar. Must be fate.”

“Or a coincidence.”

Both resorting to a shrug, there’s tension in the air like you’ve never felt. It’s excruciating. He’s leaning closer to you, oh, what was he about to say?

“I saw you watching me,” he whispers right against your ear—close enough to feel his breath. Fuck, he’s good. This is gonna be fun. And you’re gonna be a brat. At least for a little.

“I was watching all five of you,” you say, adding an annoying eye roll for good measure.

“Nope,” he says, sitting back and smiling like he knows a secret of yours. Which he may. “Only me.”

“So what if I was?” You narrow your eyes at him. You weren’t gonna break eye contact now. You can’t. But he doesn’t expect you to keep it. He expects you to cower and blush like everyone always does. But you don’t. And he likes that. “I’m waiting.”

“Makes me wonder what else you wanna watch me do is all.”

“Like what?”

“I dunno,” he chuckles. “You tell me. You were the one that couldn’t stop staring at me.”

That jerk. That stupid fucking jerk. Looking at him with heavy-lidded eyes, you glance down at his lips—side note: jesus fucking christ they look delicious but that’s beside the point right now—and lean in as close as you can without touching him. Parting his own lips, he tilts his head just barely and closes his eyes.

“Aw, you’re so cute.” You giggle. “You thought I was gonna kiss you?”

While you’re watching him retreat, defeated at his own game, he runs his fingers through his messy black hair.

“So you think I’m cute?”

Let’s give in now. “No.” You stand, taking a deep breath and walk behind him, sliding your hands down his chest, bending to meet his ear to whisper, “I think you’re fucking sexy.”

Goosebumps—but this time, they’re on him. Has anyone ever done this to him before? Let’s take it one step further. You bite his ear lobe gently and he sighs, your name falling out of his lips breathlessly.

“Hm?”

“Come upstairs with me,” he whispers.

Another step further. Sliding your hand up the back of his neck, you grip some of his hair, tugging it harshly, his eyes widening as he hisses.

“Don’t tell me what to do.”

“Will you come upstairs with me? Please.”

Turning him around in his barstool, you stand between his legs, his eyes roaming up and down your body. “I thought you’d never ask.”

It was all a blur as he took you upstairs—heading straight for the elevator, pushing you against the wall to finally crash his lips into yours, hands roaming your body trying to decide what part of it to grab onto. The ding of the elevator snaps you out of it before stumbling down the hallway to his room.

When he finally gets the door open and the door slams behind you, he’s gentler, like he wants to take his time with you. But you don’t. You drag him toward the bed and push him to the mattress to straddle his hips. Wrapping his hands around your waist, his hands slip under the skirt of your dress to squeeze and squeeze and squeeze.

Lifting off him, you lift your dress over your head as he eyes your pretty white lace lingerie while he smirks to himself. Fuck, he looks hot when he bites his lip like that. And, god, you need his shirt off. Tugging at it, you rock your hips back and forth to shimmy it off while he stays laying down. Hands on bodies, breath heavy, lips on each other’s…god, this was fun.

He flips you to your back, pressing his lips to your chest, trailing kisses over your collarbone. Pushing your face to the side to access your neck, he covers it in sloppy, wet kisses.

Since when was your bra so uncomfortable? And since when was it such a cock blocker? With that out of the way, his lips find your nipples, sucking harshly, but licking them to soothe the stings. Tugging at the waistband of his joggers, you can’t stop begging him to fuck you.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” he says, mimicking your tone from earlier.

“Please, Yeonjun—” you gasp at the feeling of his finger gliding over your clit slowly—slower than anyone’s ever touched you before. But it’s amazing. “Will you please fuck me?”

“Not yet,” he whispers. Standing to pull his pants and boxers down in one motion, he looks over your body. Oh, what was he gonna do with you and everything your body has to offer? Put you on your knees so he can cum all over your full tits? Fuck you from behind so he can see your ass jiggle? Fuck you in missionary so he can see your tits and tummy jiggle while he squeezes your thighs? There’s too many options to pick from.

But before he can make the decision, you crawl over to the foot of the bed, making a big show of it before reaching for his hips. Wrapping your hands around his hips to squeeze his ass, you pull him closer, kissing the tip of his cock. You were going to be the death of him. But you haven’t even tasted him yet. Glancing up at him through your eyelashes, you finally sink down on him completely.

And fuck do you feel good.

Fingers fumbling through your hair as he tries to steady himself, his head falls back to let out the most beautiful moan you’ve ever heard from a man. He whispers your name.

“What?” You look at him, your lips forming a pout while you wait for an answer. He responds with a simple eyebrow raise. “You said my name,” you say matter-of-factly. “What is it?”

“Don’t tease me.”

“What are you gonna do about it?”

Hooking his hands behind your knees, he pulls to flip you on your back while you let out a yelp. He boxes you in with his elbows, dragging his teeth over one of your nipples while you grip his hair, back arching to meet his mouth. He covers you in kisses. You don’t think anyone’s ever kissed you this much. Nothing will ever be enough after this.

As he makes his way down, your legs fall over his shoulders, showering your thick thighs with kisses. Using his mouth to put the smallest amount of pressure on your clit over your thong, he makes you whine and involuntarily grind against his chin, trying to relieve any tension. But he’s not giving in either. Backing away, he chuckles at you. That jerk. Why does he have to be such a jerk?

“Don’t do that to me,” you say. Eyes dark, he takes the waistband of your thong between his teeth, pulling them down slowly, letting them drag over your skin. Kneeling between your thighs, he keeps that spine-tingling eye contact as he rubs his tip over your center. That sends a jolt through your body, letting your brain finally catch up with your body.

“Will you wear a condom?”

Nodding, he quickly rustles through his suitcase messily splayed across the floor. Ripping the condom open with his teeth, he starts to roll it down himself, which is a glorious sight. And he can tell the effect it has on you. You smirk, glancing up at his eyes—eyes that are sparkling back at you.

“Eyes on my cock, baby.”

Fine by you. Sliding it down so slowly, you’re entranced. He knows exactly what he’s doing.

One hand pressing on your hip, the other lining himself up with your pussy, he pushes himself inside you, your eyes rolling back and he groans in your ear. Short shallow breaths grace your skin as he thrusts fast and hard, just like you wanted.

Bodies rocking together, he stares at your tits bouncing with his movements. Your nails start dragging down his back, but he quickly pulls out to turn you over, lifting you by your hips to bring you on all fours, your ass on full display. He spanks you, hard enough that your cheek will be pink tomorrow morning.

Pressing on your lower back to deepen the arch, he thrusts into you again. With your face squished against the mattress, his hands dig into the fat of your hips to hold you in place. The fire in your stomach roars, legs trembling, muscles weak. He yanks you up by your hair—you were hoping he’d do that—to press your back to his chest, letting you feel how heavy he's breathing.

“Don’t cum yet,” he says.

“Who said I was close?”

That evil laugh makes your eyes roll. “I can feel it.” Well, you can’t really argue with that. He was right. “Don’t.”

“You really like telling me what to do, huh?”

He snakes his hand in front of you to circle your clit, turning your whines to whimpers, desperately fighting the urge to let yourself go. What would happen if you did let yourself cum, though? It might be exciting to find out, hm? But being told what to do and when is just as exciting.

Grabbing his arm, your nails dig into his skin. He releases your hair, pushing you to the mattress roughly, face pressed against the mattress. Fists full of bed sheets, his hands spread across your ass, skin spilling through his fingers.

It’s getting increasingly difficult to hold it together—the only thing letting you is knowing how good you must be making him feel if he’s making noises like that.

“Yeonjun,” you gasp, his speed increasing. “Please.” The way he grunts tells you he’s close too, but he doesn’t plan on holding back. Pull my hair again, pull my hair again, pull my hair again, you keep thinking to yourself. And, oh, did you say that out loud? Because he pulls your hair again, finding an even deeper spot inside if you, the feeling spreading to your toes.

“Please, Yeonjun—” you yelp. “Please let me cum.”

He groans again, your name falling out of his lips before adding, “Cum for me.”

Your loud whimpers are muffled by the pillow you’ve shoved your face into, the fire in your stomach roaring louder and louder until—

Fuck…

God, this is good. Your orgasm explodes inside you, fireworks going off in all directions, filling every nook and cranny of your body. Praising you through your orgasm, he encourages you to cum hard around him, reminding you of how good your pussy feels around his cock.

Your body relaxes, but his doesn’t. He thrusts deeper inside of you, desperate to reach his own climax.

“Fuck—” he grunts, spanking you again. He loves seeing you jiggle like that. Reaching in front of you, he massages your tits, squeezing to get a firm grip.

His breath hitches, his thrusts getting sloppy as he twitches inside you, groaning through his climax.

Collapsing on top of you, he catches his breath, chest rushing and falling against your back. Rolling off you to plop onto the mattress, he turns to look at your face while there’s a stillness in the air.

“...so you’re a fan now?”

“Haven’t I always been?”

Chuckling, his face turns to the ceiling, running his fingers through his hair, resting his arms above his head. As you make eye contact, both of you burst out laughing—

“I didn’t think you’d like the roleplaying thing as much as you did,” you giggle.

“Well, what can I say? It was hot,” he says. “Great idea, baby.” Tucking a piece of your hair behind your ear, he smiles at you, kissing your forehead. “I love bringing you on tour with us.”

“I love it too.”

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