#get that sappy shit out of my face | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rafey-baby · 20 days ago

Text

older!rafe and sensitive!reader spending the holidays together

18+ mdni!

c/w: fluff, her ovulating and being horny, smut: p-in-v, slight breeding kink, use of dad

wc: 1.5k

ugh i’ve missed this man

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Why is he doin’ that shit?”

“Rafe, it’s a rom-com,” she reasons, practically glued to him on their couch with the way she keeps shifting closer and closer, almost unconsciously at this point.

“Yeah, a shitty one. Why was it necessary to do a whole fuckin’ speech at the mall? He couldn’t jus’ I dunno, tell her how he felt?” he scoffs, clearly fed up with the entire film already.

She can’t stop the bubbly laughter from escaping her when she looks over to his scowling face. “I mean, this is actually getting kinda weird…why’s everyone watching them?”

“Yeah, ‘n why are they still on that fuckin’ stage?” he grumbles while the couple is now fully making out on the TV screen.

“Please don’t ever do anything like that to me.”

“Yeah, was actually gonna ask, you, uh, you wanna go shoppin’ tomorrow?”

“No!” she giggles before taking a sip of the hot chocolate she’d made for herself (because Rafe deliberately told her he didn’t want any) but the minute she’d sat down with the mug in hand, he’d wanted to try it, which ended up with him drinking nearly half of it.

“Oh shit, forgot to give you this earlier, look what I got you today,” he suddenly murmurs.

“Hm?” her eyes flit over to his face; momentarily distracted by his pretty features as he searches for something from the back pocket of his pants. Then, he’s pulling a golden necklace from a velvety box.

“That looks really expensive,” she nervously mumbles, pausing the TV in order to concentrate on the heart-shaped locket he’s holding out to her.

“You deserve the fuckin’ world, it was nothin’ alright? Can think of it as an early Christmas present if it makes you feel better,” he rolls his eyes, almost exasperated that she still can’t seem to comprehend the fact that he enjoys spending his money on her.

“It’s so beautiful,” she croons as she inspects the piece of jewelry with careful fingertips, heart swelling in her chest at the sentiment— recalling how she’d mentioned something about thinking pendants like these were adorable maybe once.

“Yeah? You like it?”

“I love it. Wait, you had your initials carved into it too? That’s so cute, Ray, what the hell?” she feels her eyes grow watery because her boyfriend really is her favorite person in the whole wide world for a reason.

“Yeah, know you’re into sappy shit like that, ‘n you can put m’picture inside too ‘n you’ll always have me with you or whatever the fuck.”

“Shut up, you’re so sweet! I love you,” she exclaims before she’s wrapping her arms around his neck— climbing into his lap in the process while he murmurs into her hair how he apparently ‘loves her more’, which she thinks is not possible.

“Let me put it on you?” he says before he’s swiping away some strands in order to clasp the locket around her neck. “Look so pretty with m’name on you.”

“Wait, you should have my name on you too,” she jokingly utters out next.

“Been thinkin’ about gettin’ it tattooed actually,” he admits, completely serious, which makes her face scrunch up.

“You’re not getting my name tattooed on you— you’re crazy,” she softly hits his chest. However, he can barely even feel it because she really doesn’t have a single violent bone in her body.

“Yeah, crazy ‘bout you,” he grins, eliciting an airy giggle from her.

Knowing she’s about to complain about him being weird again, he shuts her up with a press of his mouth against hers— a surprised noise leaving her when she’s momentarily taken aback by the sudden cushion of his lips.

And it’s sloppy, the way they slot together like puzzle pieces when she opens up for him, but both of them prefer it that way.

His kiss was meant to be something sweet but soon enough she’s rutting against him— whimpering into his mouth as if it’s been years since the last time they did this. And all too soon for her liking, he’s pulling away.

“Somethin’ you want?”

“…no,” she lies through her teeth.

“No? Jus’ uh, humpin’ me like a bitch in heat for no reason then, hm?” he raises his brows; eyes fixed on her frustrated features.

“Ray...” she huffs out; a frown already forming on her spit-slicked lips.

“Yeah?” he asks, giving her a soft peck as encouragement.

“Want you…” she pants against his mouth.

“But m’right here?” the furrow of his brows displays faux confusion.

“You know what I mean,” she whines; shifting around in his lap some more.

“M’afraid I don’t. If there’s somethin’ you want, you gonna have to tell me,” the edge of his mouth curls annoyingly when he decides to toy with her, always finding so much entertainment from her struggle.

However, she merely grants him another whine.

“Wha’s up with you today, hm? So fuckin’ needy, actin’ like you haven’t been fucked in a month when you were literally cryin’ on m’cock last night?” he murmurs while thumbing at her pouty bottom lip.

“I don’t know…jus’ need you so bad,” her eyes begin to gloss over when he’s still not giving her what she so desperately craves.

“Baby, there’s no need to cry, yeah?” he sticks his thumb past her lips; an attempt to placate her, even if he thinks she never looks prettier than with her eyes all wet and forlorn.

“You’re ovulatin’ right now, aren’t ya?” his brain finally fits together the very telltale signs as he plucks his phone from the coffee table— opening the app that tracks her period cycle.

“Think so, yeah,” she mumbles, mindlessly sucking on the digit resting on her tongue as she sniffles.

It’s no surprise to either of them when his assumption proves to be right.

“Think you need me to fuck a baby in you, s’that it? Wanna make me a real daddy?” he croons.

“Mhm…want you,” her words are muffled around his thumb.

“I know, sweetheart. Don’t want anyone but you carryin’ m’kids— think about knockin’ you up so fuckin’ often, you know?”

“You do?”

“Yeah, know you’d be such a good mom.”

“You think? I think you’d be the best dad, sometimes wish you were my dad,” she rambles mindlessly, the conversation suddenly teetering on the edge of something else entirely.

“Shit, such an angel face ‘n then there’s this rotten mind inside, huh?” he tuts in disapproval, appearing disgusted as if he doesn’t get even harder in response to her words— something raw, primitive stirring in the pit of his stomach whenever she says things like that.

“M’sorry dad,” she offers him an impish smile.

“Someone’s in a mood today?” he chuckles, narrowing his eyes in a playful manner.

“Can you take off your pants?” she complains while attempting to loosen his belt but with her mind buzzing like a honeybee it’s proving to be a rather demanding.

“Can’t do anythin’ without dad’s help, can you? Go on, let’s see if you can take me out by yourself, yeah?” he rasps out, tone challenging.

“No, need your help, daddy, I can’t—”

“Shit, you’re fuckin’ pathetic,” he murmurs, somehow managing to turn something so patronizing into something affectionate as he swats away her helpless hands and yanks the belt open himself.

“See? Not that fuckin’ hard, was it?” he mutters out as his thumb slips out of her mouth before he’s pulling himself out. And even if he’s not even fully hard yet, and she’s seen it more times than she can count, she’s still mesmerized by the sight— eyes rounding out while she simply stares as if she’s under some spell.

“You’re so pretty,” she blinks at him, eyes moony.

“Still not tired of seein’ it, huh?”

She shakes her head.

And since she’s not wearing any pants (as usual), he only has to tug the fabric of her underwear to the side in order to reveal her messy cunt.

“Ray…” she whines when he merely smears the drippy head over her folds; thudding it against her clit to get her to whimper some more.

“Hm? Want it inside? Wha’s the magic word?” he looks at her with something amused twinkling in his eyes.

“Please. Dad, it hurts,” she sniffles, desperately trying to rub against him in an attempt to alleviate the ache.

“Hurts? Think you bein’ a little dramatic, no?” he lets out a breathy chuckle, making her huff out in frustration.

“M’not, Ray, please, need you so bad,” wet droplets stain her cheeks while she tries to uselessly blink them away.

“Shh, s’okay. Dad’s bein’ mean again, isn’t he? M’sorry, baby, I’ll give you what you want, yeah?” his voice is a deep rumble before he’s finally tucking the tip into her weepy cunt, causing both of them to moan in tandem when she practically sucks him in— his fingerprints denting the skin of her thighs when he aids her movements to his liking.

“Yeah? That what you wanted? Always such a tight fuckin’ fit, huh?” he grunts against her mouth; hips meeting hers halfway as he stuffs himself deeper.

“Mm, I love you,” she whimpers— practically feeling him in her guts as his cock pokes at the spongy spot inside her while his big hands help situate her on top of him, and she thinks this might just be heaven on earth.

5K notes · View notes

sunnami · 1 year ago

Text

❝i am half-agony, half-hope. . . i have loved none but you.❞

summary: how the marauders loved you in their time. featuring harry potter the time-traveller and sixth-wheel.

pairing/s: poly!marauders + lily x reader.

tags: reader is referred to as she/her and a mother throughout the whole fic[!], reader is a violent gremlin who craves blood but the marauders love you for that, implied child abuse[!], mentions of blood and violence[!], disgustingly sappy poetic fluff, no angst, happy ending, not proofread we die like finnick odair, edited: very minor detail.

note: there is little plot, it’s just the marauders and their adoration for you. thank you all so much for your kind responses to my first marauders fic :(( ilysm! i hope you enjoy this one as well! because there are parts when i was writing that i ended up kicking my feet in the air and smiling to myself.

“MY NAME IS HARRY POTTER. I come from twenty-years in the future, you’re my mum — one of my ‘em, actually. It’s complicated. And you’re married to James Potter, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black.”

You blink.

“Get the fuck out of my room!”

Harry James Potter has dodged many things in his life. Killing curses, jinxes, girls, Draco Malfoy, and Dudley’s sloppy punches, but he’s never had to dodge his sixteen-year-old mother’s fuzzy slipper before. (Godric, that sounds weird, even in his head.) He doesn’t know precisely how he arrived here. In the Slytherin common room, to be exact, in your dorm. Harry remembers duelling with Death Eaters, Hermione calling his name, and a flash of light hitting him square in the chest, then he remembers waking up in the cold tiles of the snake dungeon. He nearly throws himself off the window when he meets your eyes, bleary from interrupted sleep — it’s not often he gets to meet [read: one of] his dead parents, after all, three had been brutally murdered by Voldemort, and one killed by his own loony cousin. He misses Sirius, though. A lot. And right about now, he could do with some of Hermione’s nagging and brilliant plan-making.

At present — or past, Harry guesses — he watches you scramble out from your duvet, hand clumsily reaching for your wand as you snarl at him. He wonders if his mother knows that he’s encountered other creatures far more threatening than her. Oh shit, he realizes with all the forces of an angry Hermione Granger, isn’t this the last thing he’s supposed to do? But, well, Harry has given, and given, so much of himself all for the greater good — just this once, he’d like to see his parents alive and well. Even if they were currently trying to blast him into the walls.

“If you’d just let me explain, mum—!” Harry pleads, nearly dropping his glasses after dodging one of your stinging hexes. Godric, you’re crazy. “Please!”

“Stop calling me that!” You screech, eyes set ablaze. Harry finds that you’re quite dynamic with your attacks. A hairbrush, followed by a stinging jinx, then a thick History of Magic textbook — which rudely hits him in the face, but he doesn’t dare complain because you’re his mother, and he’s respectful like that — and after you’ve exhausted your breath, running him into a corner, and your nostrils flare with the stubbornness of a lion, you point the tip of your wand at him. “If this is another one of the Prewett’s shitty pranks, I want you to leave! You are in the girls’ dormitory beyond midnight, and so help me, if you aren’t walking out that door in the next five seconds, I will kill you and string you up by your bottoms for everyone in school to see! Maybe all your stupid rumours of me being a Death-Eater might come true after all!”

“You’re a Death-Eater?” Harry asks dumbly.

You growl furiously, and Harry figures that was not the right thing to say. “I wonder what McGonagall would say if I delivered your head to her on a silver platter.”

“Professor,” Harry corrects with a toothy grin. “Professor McGonagall.”

You slam his head against the wall.

Definitely the wrong thing to say.

Harry groans, little Dobby heads floating around his vision. Why was this so much harder than actually facing Voldemort? Quick, he needed to think of something, otherwise he’d end up eviscerated to ashes on your cold, stone floors. Harry is pretty sure you’d use his remains as decoration to send off a message to your enemies.

“You hate your father,” Harry slurs through the pain, remembering Remus’s stories of how you were the gentlest magical being he’s ever had the privilege to love — now that Harry thinks about it, Remus was being extremely biased, nothing about you is gentle at all. “He’s forcing you to marry someone old enough to be your grandfather. You love to read Muggle literature but had to stop when your father burnt your whole collection of books. Your favorite novel is Persuasion by Jane Austen. It’s the one book you carry with you everywhere, you could never get tired of it.”

Your grip on his shoulders falters, but the fury in your eyes crackles. “This isn’t funny.”

“It’s not meant to be funny, mum,” Harry croaks, voice cracking pathetically — strange how this is the most he’s ever uttered the word, mum; it’s a peculiar string of letters, foreign on his tongue. “You have tremors in your left leg from when your father cast the Cruciatus curse on you. One of your dearest friends is a Hogwarts house-elf named Pipley. You cheated on your Transfiguration essay once, and—”

“That’s enough!” You bark, eyes narrowed in dangerous slits. “I don’t know where you heard those from, you creepy, little stalker, but if you want to keep breathing, then I suggest you shut up.”

Harry scoffs — you don’t understand. Everything he’s learned about you is from Sirius and Remus. They talk about you with whispered devotion, your name like a prayer on their lips, their eyes glazed with wistfulness as though they could see you reaching out for them — but you were dead in Harry’s time. Yet, you might as well have been alive with their tales of you.

(“She’s a different kind of beautiful,” Sirius had said, a year after breaking out from Azkaban, sitting by the fire in Grimmauld Place, taking a swig of decade-old firewhiskey, “The kind of beautiful you don’t want to take your eyes off from because you’re afraid she’ll disappear from your eyes. But you won’t forget her, oh no, you’ll memorize the freckles and moles on her skin, the scars from her years, the light in her eyes, and the way she holds her head up high. You should have seen her, James, she. . . she was — is glorious.”)

“I told you,” says Harry firmly — although he loves his mother very much, she’s beginning to wear him out, “My name is Harry James Potter, I come from twenty-years in the future. You are one of my parents.” A lightbulb flashes in his head. He squirms in your hold, reaching for his robe pocket until he finds the thing he’s looking for. Harry dangles the ring in front of you, grinning in success when your eyes flash in recognition. “It’s—”

“A family heirloom,” You say breathlessly. The alexandrite winks under the light, a familiar gold band with the Latin inscription of your House words. “Where did you steal this from?”

Harry rolls his eyes. “You left it for me in my Gringotts vault. It’s my heirloom now. You have to believe me, there’s no way you can deny this.”

You take a step backwards, nibbling on your lower lip, as you stagger to your bed — Harry nearly stumbling to catch you in case you fell; adjusting to the living proof of time travel was quite difficult, he, of all people, should know. He exhales, dragging a hand down his face. “Magic, amirite?”

You throw a pillow at him, which he catches gracefully thanks to his Seeker reflexes, as you plop down in the comforts of your quilts. “Sleep. The other girls won’t be back until the end of the holiday. We can deal with whatever this is in the morning. It’s way too early for me to process the idea of a future Potter spawn following me around.”

Harry smiles. “Yes, mum.”

ONE THING THAT his fathers failed to tell him about you, and that Harry had to learn himself, was that you took ages to get ready. You sat on the chair in front of your vanity mirror, the birch wood legs whittled with snakes, and it was as though you had a Sticking Charm on the cushion. Harry didn’t know there could be so many creams, oils, and serums, and powders one put on their face. He blanches when you turn to offer him a cream for his under eyes. (“Suit yourself.” You shrug, turning to brush your cheek with dusts of pink. “Just saying, those dark circles aren’t doing you any favors.”)

“What am I like in the future?” You ask, a kind lilt to your voice, much like a warm hug, much like home.

Harry stiffens, shoving his hands in pockets of the robes that were twice his size — you had given him the garments of Lucius Malfoy to change in, which you apparently had stolen from his room. It’s come full circle, really, the Sorting Hat had once told him he would be great in Slytherin, and now here he was, looking fabulous in green — because he was about to hurl at the feel of the velvet on his skin, knowing slimy Lucius Malfoy had worn it. (“No son—” You pause with a tight purse in your lips, as if you still can’t accept the fact. Harry doesn’t blame you. “—no son of mine will be parading around in red of all colors, future or not.” And Harry finds that he really doesn’t care, so long as you call him your son.)

“Loved,” replies Harry gruffly, avoiding your eyes in the reflection of your mirror — they were piercing. One look and Harry wanted to spill all of his deepest, darkest secrets. He remembers the photographs in his album, the one he’s stared at so many times as a child. It’s a moving photograph of the five of you, fresh out of Hogwarts, each wearing a smile that stretched from ear-to-ear. Before Sirius and Remus, it was the only semblance of proof that Harry had — that you had once been alive. Remus is holding you by the waist in the picture, twirling you around as autumn leaves fell. You were — are — loved, and Harry thinks there’s no better description than that.

(“I bloody hated her cat,” says Remus with a roguish quirk to his lips, regalling Harry with more talks of his parents. “Sirius, too. We just never got along with the little creature. But your mother loved it, and we would have done anything to make her happy. She deserved it, you see. She deserved more than what I had to offer her, but still she chose me anyway. And I am a selfish man, Harry, I crave glimpses of her and the whispers of her voice. She has made me a mad man whose only reprieve is her touch.”)

You hum knowingly. “Stupid question, I guess. Since you aren’t allowed to reveal anything more about the future.” You sigh, gracefully threading your arms in the sleeves of your shirt, a green tie in the center of your collar. “Except, of course, when you gave me a heart attack in the middle of the night by telling me the last thing I want to become — no offense, I just don’t see how a relationship with those rowdy bunch would work. They get on my nerves far too much for me to ever feel anything other than disgust.”

Harry doesn’t need a mirror to see that his expression has contorted in confusion; brows knitted and upper lip crinkled. By their memories of you, you all were madly in love in Hogwarts. Damn. This just made his trip to the past a lot harder. No maze seems to be ever just a maze.

Luckily, you don’t notice him brewing a grand master plan to bring his parents together. Instead, you say, “But you don’t seem to be phased by any of this. If I had been thrown twenty years into the past, I would have puked my guts out twice at some point.”

“Thanks for the image,” says Harry with a scowl. Truthfully, it had either been a present with a noseless Dark Lord to face, trauma to unpack but really never have the chance to, or a past where all of his parents were alive, and a chance to talk with them for however long he has. He knows where he’ll be staying, thank you very much.

“Anytime,” You reply with an impish smile.

Your heels pad across the floor as you walk over to him, mouth clicking as you pat the top of his head, full of wild, untameable Potter hair. “You need a trim soon,” You mutter, frowning, as you brush the thick strands away from his eyes, then you gasp — and Harry knows exactly what’s coming next. “Oh, you’ve got Evans’s eyes. That’s freaky.”

“I know.” Harry grins.

“Here’s the plan,” You say as you lead him out of your room, making sure no one saw him walking out of your door and getting the wrong impression — because that would be so wrong on many levels, but also, explaining to someone else that the person beside you was a time-traveller was just complicated in general. The Slytherin dungeon is unfamiliarly familiar, eerily quiet, as the two of you made your way out. “Just say you’re Potter’s distant relative, twice or thrice removed, and you’ve always been here. If you lie to their faces enough, they’ll believe it eventually.”

“Will that work?” Harry doesn’t really mind — he needs a connection to James, his father, if he’s going to work out a connection between you and the others, because at the moment, it doesn’t seem like you’re too fond of them. There’s a tick on your jaw every time you mumble the word, Potter. Nevertheless, Harry decides he’s going to spend the duration of the holiday break trying to set you up with them — on the list of most insane things he’s ever done, living out the Parent Trap was high up the tally.

You shrug. “They’ve fallen for less.”

(“She’s got this adorable habit when she lies,” Sirius tells Harry, whipping up a stack of pancakes for their breakfast — Remus browsing through the morning paper. It’s the closest he’s ever been to a normal family. “It’s not obvious to her, of course, but I know her more than I know my own name. So we play along with it.” For a moment, he stops drizzling the maple syrup on the well-cooked batter, gazing at Remus fondly. “D��you remember that, Moony? She led us straight to one of her pranks, and we ended up covered in slug slime. She was so obvious — with her adorable fucking giggles. I need help with Charms, she said, and we knew right away it was a set-up. But it didn’t matter. I’d happily let her lead me to my ruin.”)

The Great Hall is the same as Harry remembers. Now that most have returned home for the holidays, those who stay back mingle with students from other Houses, sharing meals under the bewitched ceiling, their low murmurs and hushed Christmas greetings bouncing off the walls. Harry scours the four tables to find a hint of blazing red hair, or the scent of impending trouble. Fortunately, he doesn’t have to search very far. As fate would have it, James Potter finds you — and where he is, Sirius Black is sure to follow.

You’re barely seated when James comes bounding over to your table — more precisely, he struts, and Harry is horrified to ever be proven wrong by Snape, of all people. He ignores the roll of your eyes as he drags a leg over the bench, sitting to face you as Sirius occupies the space to your left before Harry can even sit down. He can’t even fathom how weird it is to see his parents as rambunctious teenagers. Lovesick, rambunctious teenagers.

“Morning, dove.” James preens under your glare, stealing a grape from your bowl with a boyish smirk. His hair looks as though he’s ran his hand through it many times. “You look ravishing today.”

“As always,” Sirius pipes in. “But that eyeshadow really isn’t complementing your skin tone, my darling.”

You smile at him, right before your lips twist into a cutthroat sneer. “Piss off, Black.”

James stifles a laugh as he shovels a mass of potatoes on your plate, then pumpkin pasties, and slides a steaming cup of Dragon Well tea in front of you.

“What the hell are you doing, Potter?” You reach over to smack his arm when he sprinkles apple slices and bacon on your breakfast.

“What does it look like?” James smiles lopsidedly. “You need to eat more, honey.”

(In the future, Sirius will tell Harry, “It started off as a joke, a way to get on her nerves — but then, it just became this thing about taking care of her, making sure she got enough sleep before her tests, wondering if she had breakfast or dinner, staying with her in the library, walking her to the Slytherin common room, and sending her stupid notes just to make her laugh. You don’t get it, Harry. I’d give my every breath to ensure her life. We all would.” Harry doesn’t see Sirius any more during that evening, but he hears a bottle crashing against a wall, cracking into a million pieces, and the masked sound of Sirius sobbing, and Harry decides to leave him alone for the night.)

Then, you tear your eyes away from James — he huffs, pushing your plate to you, mildly annoyed that you’ve deprived him of your eyes; they were his favorite part of you, you see, so expressive and full of life; James thinks you put the stars to shame — and thankfully, you remember that Harry still exists. You lightly smack Sirius’s leg until he gives Harry some room to sit. “Potter, meet other Potter. It’s the holidays, shouldn’t it be the perfect time to let go of House prejudices and spend time with family?”

James looks at Harry up and down. “You must be from dad’s side of the family with all that hair.”

Harry lets out a breath of relief. That was easy — way too easy. When he takes the vacant space in between you and Sirius, you dump all the available food on his plate, just as James had done for you.

“Eat,” You say with a tone of finality. “You look like the wind could snap you in half.”

“Yes, m—” Harry stops himself before he could finish his sentence, avoiding Sirius’s curious gaze.

“Wow.” Sirius pokes Harry in the shoulder and in the cheek. “You really look like a mini-James, you’ve even got his terrible eyesight.”

“Oi!”

Your fork clatters against the silverware as you turn to Sirius with a shrill. “Not that I do enjoy your company — because, trust me, I do not want you here at all and would very much prefer if you got out of my sight — but why are you here? The Gryffindor table is over there. Unless your housemates finally got sick of you, Potter, which I can definitely see happening.”

James chuckles, tossing another grape in his mouth without taking his eyes off you. “It’s as you said, isn’t it? It’s the time for putting aside House prejudices. And I think it’s a lovely day to enjoy a meal with my favorite snake.”

“Drop dead,” You retort, digging into your chicken with a little more force than necessary.

“Oh, dove.” James shakes his head, a teasing grin pulling at his lips. “It’s cute that you think death will keep me from you.”

(Harry’s been told before, probably by Sirius, that this line had been wedged into his wedding vows for you. “A dramatic one, James was,” Sirius chuckles to himself one morning, Harry and Hermione listening intently, “He always said he’d rather die than ever hurt her. There was this time in seventh year, they had a fight — it was ugly — and she had ignored him for a week. James cried in Remus’s arms begging him to cut his heart out, saying that he didn’t deserve to keep on breathing, not after making you cry.”)

“That is so creepy,” You say in disgust, scrunching your nose. Sirius chortles at your side. “I still wonder why Evans agreed to go out with you.”

“It’s all part of the charm, dove.” James winks. “It’s all part of the charm.”

Harry wants to barf, actually.

After breakfast, James then decides to introduce Harry to Lily, Remus, and Peter. (He’s gonna need the patience of a saint to not Avada Kedavra that rat on the spot.) Harry had spent the whole morning watching Sirius peel oranges and give them to you with a smitten look in his eyes — naturally, you gave whatever Sirius offered you to Harry, and each time Padfoot would visibly wilt. If he were in his Animagus form, Harry thinks he would be whining by now, tongue out and all. James and Sirius follow after you like lost puppies when you extricate yourself from the table.

“Where are you going?” James calls, hot on your heels as you leave the Great Hall.

“Away from you, Potter!”

And James actually sighs when you turn the corner and disappear from their peripheral vision. Seconds later, he turns to Harry with a blinding smile, “She’s definitely charmed.”

Harry chortles.

“Well, come on then!” James guffaws as he wraps an arm around Harry’s neck — this is so, so strange. They begin walking in the opposite direction of where you went. “I still can’t believe we’ve got another Potter here and in Slytherin. I think I would have remembered Minnie calling your name during the Sorting Ceremony. What year are you in?”

He’s supposed to start his sixth-year in a few weeks. “Fifth.” Technically.

“We should ask Lily,” says Sirius, hands in his pockets and ebony ringlets tickling his nape. “She’s got the best memory out of all of us.”

It’s odd, Harry thinks, meeting the person who’s got his eyes — or the other way around, as people have told him. It’s like someone carved out the emeralds of Lily Evans’s eyes and bestowed it upon Harry for safekeeping. She sits beside Remus Lupin, head resting on his shoulder, hands clasped together, as they enjoy the shade. Nex to them, oblivious to their intimate conversation, is Peter Pettigrew — with his rosy, cherub cheeks and innocent blue eyes; not at all the image of a pathological, cowardly liar. Their heads snap in attention as James boisterously cries for their name.

“Marauders — and Lily-pad — meet ickle Potter.” James lightheartedly whacks Harry on the back, to which Harry feels his lungs spill out from his mouth, he’s sure there’s an imprint of his father’s hand on his back now.

“There’s two Potters in Hogwarts?” Sea-green eyes look at him in scrutiny as Lily knits her brows. “How even is the castle still standing?”

James cackles like it’s the best joke he’s ever heard in his entire life, slapping his knee for dramatic effect. Oh, well, at least they’re buying Harry’s half-baked lie. At this point, it’s not even baked, it’s just wet, soggy, and poorly done. “Good one, Lily-pad!”

Sirius ruffles Remus’s shaggy blonde hair, canines bared in a wide grin. “This one here’s Moony, uptight prefect in the morning and absolute beast in the evening.”

Harry blanches. Surely he was talking about his furry problem, right? Right?

Remus doesn’t even flinch, just peels off Sirius’s hand from him and extends his hand out to Harry. “Please do not mind him. Remus Lupin, nice to meet you. Although, I can’t believe this is the first time we’ve met. We would have definitely remembered if we had another Potter in our midst.”

“It’s true, we Potters are just hard to forget,” says James, smiling cheekily.

Harry pokes the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Mum didn’t take the Potter name. I’m part Dursley. Muggle.”

Lily hums, toying at the ends of her bright hair. “Dursley, huh? What a familiar name.”

“It’s a common one,” Harry assures her — not at all the names of the people who would take him in after they died. And make his life miserable.

“I suppose you’re right,” says Lily, unconvinced.

“And this is Peter.” James introduces the boy eagerly, pride in his voice — as though this isn’t the person who literally allies himself with Voldemort. As if Peter won’t betray his friends all because of fear.

“N–Nice to meet you,” Peter stammers with a nervous fidget, “Any family of James is a friend of ours.”

Harry’s eye twitches.

IT IS ALMOST COMICAL — the way their eyes land on your figure, bursting through the courtyard from the corridors, winter cloak swishing with every step, tendrils of hair swaying in the crisp wind, and head held up high, thick books under your arms. You pause in front of the Marauders, face blank, then you turn to Peter, greeting him with a: “Hello, only Gryffindor I can tolerate.”

Peter’s cheeks burn a saccharine hue of pink. Oh, no, no, no — absolutely not — Harry will not stand for a little crush Peter Pettigrew has on his mother. He needs James to act now. “Hi,” Peter replies shyly.

Lily quirks her lips. “Hello, princess, see your score for the Astronomy test yet?”

You scowl. “Zip it, Evans.”

The sound of Lily’s laughter fills the atmosphere — it’s the sort of melody that makes flowers bloom in deserts. “Had a bit of difficulty with the star charts?”

Sirius pinches your cheek — Harry thinks you’re going to murder him on the spot. “Difficulty? I think this one just slept through the whole thing.”

James snickers. “Must have been one hell of a nap, princess. You were drooling on my jumper.”

“I most certainly do not drool!” You gasp, appalled, eyes wide as you step away from Sirius.

Sirius rolls his eyes. “What? Is drooling too barbaric for the pretty, little pure-blooded princess now? Newsflash, pet, you’re just as human as we are.”

“Oh, you horrible, loathsome, infuriating—” You whip around to beat his chest with the course book in your grasp — it’s the kind of book Hermione would consider for light reading.

“Irresistibly attractive—?” Sirius supplies for you, grin widening with as he captures your wrist with his hands.

“In your dreams!” You shrill.

You exhale slowly, eyes closing, chest rising when you take a sharp inhale. You open your eyes and stare straight at Harry — for a moment he fears that you’ll bite his head off. “Harry, dear, will you accompany me to the library? I think I’ve found something important regarding your situation.”

Harry nods. “Is it time already?”

“Yes,” You say firmly. “And time is of the essence. Come on.”

“Wait!” Lily calls out to you as you turn to head back to the castle, Harry in tow — he tries to avoid the way James is glaring at your linked arms. “Hogsmeade next week?”

Your jaw falls to the ground — this must have been unrehearsed, if the others’ reactions were anything to go by; Remus had dropped his book in shock, Sirius looked like he couldn’t decide between applauding Lily’s bravery or shaking her, and James was somehow frozen in time. “Excuse me?”

“You’re excused, princess,” says Lily, dimples poking out of her cheek as she takes another step towards you. “You, me, Hogsmeade. A date. I’m sure you’ve gone on one of those before.”

Harry elbows your stomach as you stare at Lily in shock. It takes a few moments to break you out of your stupor. “A–And what makes you think I’ll just go with you?”

Lily shrugs. “I’m fit. Aren’t I, Remus?”

“The fittest,” says Remus without missing a beat.

You laugh incredulously. “Do you just expect me to go along with this? You’re mad, Evans.”

Harry glares at you. You need to go along with this.

“Are you scared, princess?” Lily’s face is inches away from yours, noses almost touching — Harry doesn’t know if he should keep watching this painful way of flirting — as she grins at you, happiness barely contained within her eyes.

To your credit, you don’t back down. (Harry has to say this for the masses: he saw your gaze flitter down to Lily’s lips for a split second.) “Stop calling me that, Evans.”

“One date, then.”

You growl in exasperation, eyes flickering to the boys behind her back — pretending not to hear their conversation. “I suppose I’ll have to deal with them as well?”

Lily beams and Harry swears sunflowers could grow in her direction. “We’re a package deal.”

“Unfortunately,” You utter — but Harry notices it, the lack of venom in your voice. You straighten your posture, nose lifted haughtily, “I choose where we’re going.”

“Done.” The sun peeks out from the cloud just as Lily smiles at you.

“And I want to—”

“Done,” Remus interjects raspily, peering up at you from underneath his lashes. “Anything you want, it’s yours.”

You fight a growing smile, but continue, “If we’re going out in public, you’re going to have to wear—”

“Done,” says James giddily, he looks as though he could kiss you in front of everyone without a care in the world.

“You can’t just agree to anything I say!” You flap your arms in frustration.

“Yes, dear,” Sirius teases.

“Do you know how much you piss me off, Black?” You squawk. “Because you are this close to—”

“You are so fucking beautiful,” Sirius confesses, every pretense shed raw from his skin, sincerity pouring from his words.

“I—” You falter, heat rushing to your cheeks. “You’ve gone mad.”

“It’s your fault, dove,” says James, eyes twinkling like crescent moons as he smiles. “You best take accountability for this.”

“You’re incorrigible — all of you,” You say as you avoid their gazes.

(But they were yours. Past, present, and future. They loved you so much that their soul was no longer their own — it was yours; yours to keep, yours to break, and yours to love. It would be unjust to ask them why they loved you. Do we ask why the sun rises each day without rest? Do we ask a daisy to stop blooming, or a tree to stop growing after it has endured storms and floods? After all, we do not ask why humans follow the light in a tunnel shrouded in darkness.)

“Come on, Harry, let’s go.” You reach for his hand, he notices immediately that the tips of your ears are pink, and your palms are warm with sweat. He barely sees Peter wave goodbye before you tug him in the direction of the castle entrance.

“Wait up!” Remus catches up to you two in quick strides, offering to carry your books for you — not that you agree, stubborn Slytherin that you are. “I’ll walk you to the library.”

“There’s no need for that, Lupin, thank you.” You dodge his eyes, lips tightly pressed together, nails slightly digging into Harry’s arm.

“Remus,” He says with a twinkle. “Call me Remus.”

“Alright.” You pause. “Remus.”

(In that moment, Remus wonders if you remember decking Lucius Malfoy in the face to defend him in your fourth year. He didn’t think he deserved to even breathe in the same air as you — the pure-blooded princess, dressed in clothing worth more than his life, adorned in jewelry he could only dream to afford, raised to believe she was better than everyone else. Then, you beat up Evan Rosier the next month in the courtyard, eyes ablaze, extravagant silk marred with grass stains and mud, and knuckles split open. You spit blood on the ground, looking at Lily then back at Rosier. “Red,” You say, kicking him one last time in the stomach, unafraid of McGonagall’s wrath growing louder and louder. “Just like everyone else. Like those Muggleborns you fear. We’ve all got dirty blood, Rosier. Suck it up.”

“I’ll tell your father about this!” Rosier bellows through bloody teeth.

“Tell him!” You grab his neck and slam your forehead against his. “Tell him that I decide my own future now!”

Remus doesn’t even have to think about it.

He falls in love.)

FUNNILY ENOUGH, IT’S LILY who gives you her heart first, before anyone else does. It’s the last month of her first year at Hogwarts — it still hasn’t quite sunk in yet that she was a witch. Her, not Petunia, but her — Lily Evans, the witch. Apparently, some people can’t believe it either. A girl from Ravenclaw calls her this foul word, she’s heard it a few times now but it always hurts the same. James and Sirius get into a fight for her honor, now faced with detention later this evening. But she can’t help but wonder, what if they were right? What if she really didn’t belong in this world? It was too good to be true, anyway. Perhaps she’ll just run a flower boutique with Petunia.

“Oi.”

The sound of your voice startles her, and she nearly topples over in the Great Lake. Lily catches sight of your Slytherin colors and resigns herself to another round of name-calling. “What do you want?”

“They’re wrong, you know,” You tell her, ignoring Lily’s question. You look down on her with your nose raised arrogantly — she wishes she could be like you. Born to be magic. “You’ve got a terrifying brain locked up in your head there, Evans. And they know it, too. They’re scared.”

Lily scoffs. “I’m just a Mudblood to them. There’s nothing to be intimidated by.”

You sneer. “Don’t say that word. You’re more than that. More than them. They’ve got long ways to go to prove they have a place in this world. But you — you’ve defied the odds and you were destined to become magic. You don’t have to prove anything. You have the right to be in the wizarding world and no one can take that away from you.”

Then, you pivot on your heels, not bothering to hear her reply. “You’re my rival now, Evans. Do keep up. We’ve got an Astronomy test tomorrow. I look forward to seeing how you do then.”

Lily just gapes. She’s certain there’s butterflies in her stomach. Her heart thumps wildly against her ribcage. Lily raises her hands to feel her blushing cheeks. There’s a light unfamiliar sensation in her stomach — like the urge to kick her legs and scream into a pillow, or more precisely, chase after you and hold your hand.

She stiffens.

Oh.

part two

#hp angst #hp fluff #hp imagine #hp x reader #james potter x reader #lily evans x reader #marauders angst #marauders fluff #marauders imagine #marauders x reader #sirius black x reader #poly!marauders x reader #poly!marauders fluff #remus lupin x reader

7K notes · View notes

luludeluluramblings · 14 days ago

Text

The Tape

Reader and Conner’s sex tape gets leaked…

Based on this…

Warning: Fem!Reader, NSFW themes, no actual smut, pure crack nonsense, fake Twitter post

A/N: @fanfictionlover277353 Heard you wanted some more! Here’s some of my nonsense!

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

"Come on, Babs. Please. I'm begging. Just for a few hours. Two tops." Dick's whining could be heard through out the entire cave. The vibrato of his voice echoing off the rocky walls and stalagmites as he leaned over Barbara's shoulder and played with her hair.

She was currently sitting at the Bat Computer, looking over anything related to the family or incidents in Gotham with strained eyes and an exasperated look on her face.

"I told you, I'm busy-"

"You need a break." Dick interrupted, playing the hypocrite with a grin. "Come on, two hours. We'll watch a movie, you can even pick. No sappy Rom-coms, anything you want. All your choice." He wiggled his eyebrows at her.

Admittedly, Barbara was tempted, but she let out an indulgent sigh.

"Fine. I'll set up notifications to alert me if anything that needs to get scrub gets posted." She quickly type out a few things on to the computer, having it connected to her phone before Dick whisked her off with way too much excitement.

It was a simple notification system. One that would alert her if anyone's vigilantes identities were mentioned in the media. Unfortunately, it wasn't set up to alert her if anyone's civilian identities were mentioned. That included the family's only civilian member as well.

And, a lot can happen in two hours with the power of the internet and a very interesting topic.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

You were having a good day. A very nice day. You had gone out into the world, enjoying the sights and sounds of a mid-morning Gotham. Ignoring the wailing sirens in the distance, by now you had grown used to it.

Dick, Babs, and Alfred where in the manor doing either Bat stuff or sleeping. Damian was visiting Jon. Duke was on patrol. Cass was at dance practice. Bruce was at the Watchtower. Tim was at the Wayne office. Stephanie was your chaperone (stalker) of the day. And, Jason was fuck who knows where.

A peaceful, calm day.

Until you got a Twitter notification and you realized...

"Oh, that's not good. That is really not good." You mutter, watching as the internet burns while you drink your coffee. Not like you could do much else. You still sent a quick text to Conner, just to prepare him while you mentally packed.

You warned him when he suggested filming the two of you making love in the Wayne manor parlor right in front of the fireplace.

You had suggested you’d both go to the mountains and fuck in the wild, but he just had to be kinky and want to do it in the manor. Better lighting he said.

If it wasn’t for the fact that it had been your anniversary and he had pulled out all the stops, you would’ve said no. (It doesn’t matter that he had you literally crying from the pleasure when the two of you had finally finished filming. Nope. Not at all.)

However, that mountain sex might still be on the table. You didn't want to be around when the rest of the family saw that video, so a remote location in the mountains sounded like a decent idea. You’d been wanting to runaway from the manor for a while anyway.

“Hey, Steph, hand me your phone real quick…” Best to probably by yourself some time.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Conner had a tendency to mute his notification on all his socials. Not that he didn't look at what people tagged him in or mentioned him in. He just find it easier to manage.

So when he got a text from you saying to check Twitter, he was a bit puzzled. But, he figured you had seen him tagged in something funny and wanted him to see it too.

Only for the record in his head to scratch when he realized what he had been tagged in.

"SHIT! Shit, shit, shit, shit." Could he get off planet fast enough? This was bad. Not the video. That was good. He may have thrown extra fuel on the fire by liking it and retweeting it on to his official account, but, damn it, was he proud of that. Probably shouldn’t have hired that rando to edit it for him though.

But, yeah, he was about to possibly be the only man ever murdered in cold blood by Batman. It was one thing to fuck his civilian daughter, but filming it in the man’s own home? Yeah, the kryptonite was definitely coming out and getting stabbed into his skull.

"JON! Distract Damian!" Conner yelled out before taking off, knowing that Jon's super hearing would pick up it up. Best get to Gotham and grab you before Batman came after his ass.

There was a nice planet a few solar systems over that you two could have some fun on. Maybe if he was lucky, you could visit that spot in front of the fireplace on last time. He doubted the two of you would get another chance to do it there again.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Jason had actually been at Roy’s that day, having finished some Outlaw business from the night before. Only to be interrupted when Roy suddenly choked on his drink and sprayed it all over him from across the table. Soaking Jason and the papers on said table.

“What the fuck?” He muttered in disgust whipping the dripping liquid off him.

Roy, however, was still choking. Wheezing as he clutched his phone like it was the most precious thing in existence.

“Nothing! Nothing!” Instantly, Roy was trying to back the video up the Cloud and his back up phone. He’s paid for porn with less quality than this and he was not wasting this opportunity before it was scrubbed from the internet.

“Let me see that.” Jason pushed the table and slammed it into Roy’s gut, causing the phone to clatter on to it. A video silently playing on the screen.

A video of two people in a fancy parlor. Doing very intimate things.

Two people Jason knew. In a fancy parlor that Jason knew.

A parlor that Jason had literally sat in three days ago watching the fire in the exact same fireplace.

“Did you fucking save this, asshole?”

“Dude, that is ART!”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Back in the BatCave Alfred had come down to tidy up after resting a bit only to look at the screen in horror. Despite his many skills, socially media escaped him at times.

However he did manage to learn one thing…

“That was what was on my bloody carpet?!”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Tim had been in his office, going over a couple charts when his secretary burst into the room. Stumbling and falling on the floor panting. One of her heels broken.

Normally she was a serious and composed woman, not tolerating any nonsense from him. So this behavior was unexpected and worrisome.

Tim rushed to stand up at help her when she suddenly blurted out, “Leaked sex tape!”

That made him panic. Before confusion hit him.

“Wait, did I film on of those? I don’t remember filming one of those-“

“Your sister! Superboy! PR is going fucking nuts and getting calls. Share prices are fucking increasing because of this!”

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

The Justice League Watchtower was in a meeting. Quite a long one judging by the way most of it’s members sitting around the table seemed to be drifting off or subtly scrolling their phones.

Oliver Queen, Green Arrow was one of those people scrolling. Checking over twitter, catching up on the latest gossip. Only to nearly fucking scream in the middle of the meeting when he realized what Superboy had shared on his official account.

Forget man of steel, the kid has damn balls of steel.

Worst yet, the video had been posted for over an hour. A full hour. Almost two. There was no way that was going to be getting scrubbed and forgotten. He’d bet it was in a military archive already with a team of scientist documenting the half-Kryptonian’s dick size right now.

It was an impressively long video. One that Oliver was sorely tempted to watch. But, he didn’t because he knew Batman would actually rearrange his face if he did. Like fist and plastic surgery rearrange it.

So, when he heard Batman’s voice ring out in the meeting, he broke his phone in half to hide the evidence of his discovery.

Only, Batman hadn’t been calling for his attention. He was calling for Booster Gold’s.

“Booster, focus on the meeting. Put that away—“

It was amusing to see Booster get caught with his phone out watching him scramble to shut it off in a panic. Only for it to fall to the ground.

And, the sound to turn on at full volume.

Moans to fill the silent void of the room.

Oliver could only look on in horror when he realized just what Booster had been watching, during a Justice League meeting, and across the table from Batman himself.

“Conner, please, p-please, stop teasing.”

“No, I don’t think I will. You look so pretty like this. All nice and—“

No one moved. Not as they watched Batman literally work through every emotion under that cowl of his and Superman’s face went as white as it possibly could, anguish washing over both their faces when they realized who was in the video booster was watching.

Diana was the only one that stood up and moved to pick up the phone. Everyone held their breaths when she slowly looked down at the screen.

“Quite impressive. You both must be proud.” She said with a slight hum.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: I apologize so much for this, but I just was cackling the entire time I came up with this and wrote it. Forgive me y’all! 🙏🏻

A/N: All the Twitter stuff was randomly generated and picked! I’m not good with it, but I added it for giggles!

#yandere batfam #yandere batfamily #batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfam x reader #yandere batfamily x reader #anon ask #batfam #batfamily #yandere conner kent x reader #conner kent x reader #yandere conner kent #conner kent #the tape

1K notes · View notes

aithusarosekiller · 2 months ago

Text

Imagine Sirius finding out about Jegulus through one of James' REVOLTINGLY sappy pet names because we all know that James is a mean little shit who thinks he's hilarious.

Like James only uses the pet names so he can irritate Regulus because 'James, I have a reputation to uphold that shall not be sallied by your foolish ludicrousity' and he finds it hilarious to watch Regulus scowl and grumpily swat at him whenever he says something gross like 'baby' 'my angel' 'angelface' 'honeybun' or my personal favourite 'babydoll'. It's just his sense of humour, he never uses normal nicknames anymore because the stupid ones are ingrained in his mind to an irreparable degree.

And it becomes such a habit that one time he just forgets that Sirius doesn't know and by that point, Regulus is so used to simply tuning it out in the hopes he'll eventually get bored and stop (he won't) that they don't realise for at least 20 seconds that James just walked into the brothers' flat and said 'Hi pads, haven't seen you all week! Hey babydoll, ooo, that really is a nice new jumper'

They both realise at the same time and it takes a further second for Sirius' face of morph into DISGUST. And it's not at the fact they're together but at the ABYSMAL name choice. Regulus is instantly fuming and desperately trying to explain that it's James being pathetic and making an idiotic joke but Sirius doesn't even buy it. He goes the rest of his life telling people about it and Regulus goes mad. James finds it so fucking funny but apologises for accidentally making it bigger than a joke between the two of them. He is eventually forgiven but he's banned from saying half of the silly names ever again.

#James is a little shit #Sirius is so convinced they're serious about it too #jegulus #starchaser #sunseeker #regulus black #james potter #marauders era

1K notes · View notes

megumiluvv · 4 months ago

Text

Strongest Sorcerer Virgin

Includes: established relationship, Satoru Gojo x fem!reader, oral (m!receiving), unprotected sex (pls use protection!!), Gojo is cocky until he actually has to do it (lolll), kissing, pet names (baby, princess, babycakes), praise (always), creampie I suppose, mentions of satosugu?? (His first kiss), overstimulation (only two orgasms)

Word Count: 1,421

Masterlist

A/n: I have been thinking about virgin gojo for months. It's not funny. I’m so obsessed with him. The voices said “write Satoru Gojo as a virgin” and I will indeed listen.

〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎ ❀ 〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎〰︎

You didn’t know when you started dating him, but Satoru Gojo is a virgin. Absolutely no experience, despite his claims.

Oh, according to him, he’s made every girl he’s dated cum at least ten times before putting it in. Little do you know, you’re his first girlfriend. And unfortunately for him, you’re about to find out he’s still a virgin.

He got off easy with convincing you he could kiss fine, having jokingly practiced with Suguru in the past. But he didn’t want to get that far with his best friend, that’s embarrassing!

You’re making out on his couch, the soft pillows sinking under your combined weight, sappy romance movie forgotten in the background. Your hands move to push his sunglasses off his face and he holds your cheeks. You laugh into the kiss when his hips press against yours and you feel just how hard he has become.

“Is tonight finally the night we fuck, Satoru?” You tease and kiss his nose.

“Wanna see what I’m all about, princess?” He chuckles, cocky til’ the end.

“Mhmm, show me that talented dick you claim to have, Satoru.”

His smirk falters. It’s barely noticeable, but you still notice.

“Satoru? Are you okay?”

“Pshhh, whatttt? Of course I am!” There’s that lying voice.

“Satoru…” You have that warning tone to tell the truth.

“What, babycakes? I’m fiiiine.”

“Gojo.” Now he’s done it. He gulps as you refer to him with his last name

“…Okay, okayyy, I miiight’ve lied…”

“About…?”

“I, uhhh, I’ve neverhadsex.” He mumbles super fast.

“What?”

“I’m a virgin! Okay?! I said it!” He pouts and looks away in embarrassment. You almost want to laugh.

“…say something?” He mumbles shyly.

You do laugh. The strongest sorcerer, the most talented man in the world, is a virgin?! That’s absurd! It’s insane! You can’t help but laugh.

“Heyyy, stop laughing!” He whines, face red from embarrassment.

“Sorry! Sorry! I just can't help it! It’s crazy that you were so confident! I never knew!” You giggle. “Don’t be embarrassed, Satoru, I can help you out!”

“That’s even more embarrassing…”

“Oh, come onnnn, it’s just me! I’d be honored to pop the strongest sorcerer’s cherry.” You giggle at your own words and he keeps pouting.

“You’re so mean. And don’t say it like that!”

“Please?”

“…Fine, but only because you caused this problem.”

You look at his bulging pants and grin. “Mkay!”

His porcelain skin is so warm. The two of you had moved to his room and he’s on his back, your plush thighs straddling his lap. You’re both nude and he’s staring up at your body as if it’s sculpted by those sculptors that worshiped the gods. Hands rubbing your thighs nervously as you kiss down his body, stopping at his happy trail.

“You ready?”

“…mhm.” He swallows hard as you kiss his tip.

His body jolts, nails lightly digging small crescent shapes into your thighs. You grin and kiss down his shaft, lightly licking his balls before taking him down your throat.

He gasps from the sudden warmth and bucks his hips. “Shit, that feels good, so much better than I imagined…”

His whimpers fill the air as you fondle his balls and bob your head. You swirl your tongue around his shaft and pull back when you feel his cock throb in your throat and lightly blow on the tip, the cool air making him jolt.

“Fuck, you’re really edging me, princess?” He whines and rubs your hips.

“Come on, can’t have you blow your load so soon.” You giggle.

“I’m not blowing my load…” he mumbles shyly.

“Mhm, sure. Now, since it’s your first time, do you want to do it all or do you want me to just ride?”

His face is beet red. “Wh- I- uh- I can do it myself!!”

You can’t help but giggle. You lay on your back and spread your legs, showcasing just how aroused you are. He rubs your thighs gently and looks into your eyes for approval. You nod and guide his hips.

“Move your hips and slip it in.”

It takes him a while to actually react, shy from your bluntness. He shifts over you, lining his hips up with your body and looking at you for reassurance.

“Like this…?”

“Yep, you can go slowly or quickly, but push in.”

Satoru swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. He slowly presses himself into you, gasping at the warmth, better than your mouth. His hands grip the sheets on either side of your head, struggling to keep from busting right away.

“I-is this okay so far…?”

You smile. “Just like that, you’re no longer a virgin.”

He lets out a huff of air, laughing slightly at your words. He swallows again, unsure of what to do. You intertwine your fingers with his.

“Move, set your own pace. I’ll let you know if it’s not enough or too much.” You speak gently, encouraging him.

He swallows again and nods, slowly drawing his hips back and hissing at the way you squeeze him.

“So tight, you feel so good, baby… Does this feel good?”

You nod when he thrusts slowly back in, gradually building up in tempo and in turn moving deeper. He hits particularly deep into you and his tip kisses your g-spot.

“Right there! Do that again!” You gasp and hold his hands tighter.

He looks at you with wide blue eyes, pupils blown as he moves harder, eliciting a moan from your lips.

“Th-that good? Does it feel good for you too?” He manages to say through gasps and grunts.

“Yes, Satoru, so so good…”

He clearly likes the praise, moving faster and now at a constant pace, hips barely stuttering from how close he really is. He has to see you cum first. He needs it, needs you to feel good because of him.

“Satoru, my clit, rub my clit.” You whine, guiding his hand to the sensitive nub.

“Do I just-”

“Just rub it!” You buck up into him as he keeps his pace and finally moves his hand too.

His calloused thumb rubs circles into your sensitive clit, and he catches how your folds seem to flutter around him. He bites his lip and watches your face contort into the cutest expression.

“C-close, ‘toru, please…”

“…T-tell me what to do…”

“Just keep up like that, please…”

He nods and fights back every urge to cum, not wanting to miss when you reach your orgasm. You finally cum with a cry of his name, gripping him impossibly tighter and he finally releases as well. Spurts of his seed fill into you as he keeps fucking it deeper.

“C-can’t stop, it’s too much, I can’t stop!” He borderline cries into your shoulder as he keeps overstimulating the both of you, refusing to slow down or stop.

His sloppy thrusts won’t relent on your poor weeping cunt, white forming at the base of his shaft. You dig your nails into his hands, holding impossibly tighter at the overwhelming sensation.

“Satoruuuu! Too much! G-gonna cum againnnn!!” You cry out and clench tighter around him.

He moans and gasps in your ear, too out of it to hear your cries, only focusing on how you’re sucking him in and won’t let go. Not that he plans to ever leave. You reach another orgasm and thrash against the sheets at how intense it was, and again, he soon follows, this time stilling his hips as he whines out your name and so many praises.

“Thank you, thank you, baby, feels sooo good, princess, I love you, I love you…”

He collapses onto you and buries into your neck. You slowly come down from the overstimulated high and play with his hair.

“Satoru, get off…”

“Nuh uh.”

“Come on, Satoru, we gotta shower.”

“Tomorrow, we can do it tomorrow. Can’t move, if I pull out, I’ll just make us cum again.”

You giggle a little and let him cuddle into you. “You’re such a big baby, ‘toru.”

After a moment of silence, you speak up again.

“Was your first time good?”

“So good, you have the best pussy in the world, babycakes.”

You roll your eyes at the nickname and kiss his forehead. “Thanks, idiot.”

“Your idiot.”

“Mhm, my idiot.”

You both fall asleep, not a care in the world. As the moonlight shines through his window, the only thing that matters is that he’s with you, and you’re with him. Satoru Gojo is no longer a virgin. All thanks to one gorgeous girl: you.

#virgin gojo you’ll always be famous to me #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #virgin gojo #satoru gojo #satoru gojo smut #satoru gojo x reader #satoru smut #jjk satoru #gojo satoru #gojo satoru smut #gojou satoru x reader #gojo smut #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jujutsu gojo

2K notes · View notes

hoshifighting · 3 months ago

Text

staff!jeonghan

WARNINGS: fluff, smut, fame problems, paris trip, idol!reader is a sweetheart with her staff team, teasing, hair pulling, makeup smudging hair destroying sex, face slap, paris sex.

staff!jeonghan who started way back when your career was just taking off. you were still fresh, the kind of new that had people curious but not quite sold on the idea of you making it long term. jeonghan wasn’t even supposed to be sticking around. dude was just a freelancer, floating between gigs like it was nothing. hairdresser one week, stylist the next, maybe even photographer’s assistant if he felt like it. didn’t care much either—just did his job, got his check, and dipped.

he was there the first time you came in for a shoot, thinking, oh, here we go again, another idol who doesn’t know shit about shit, and probably treats their staff like trash. honestly, he didn’t expect anything from you. he had his walls up like crazy. you’d been doing this for, what, a hot minute? and you were already getting attention, which just made him think, “yep, this one’s probably the snobby kind. won’t even acknowledge us when she’s walking by.”

but then you went and did the most surprising thing—like blew his expectations out of the water kinda surprise. you saw him—no, not just like saw him, but like saw him. took a minute to actually chat. asked how his day was, if he needed anything while he was running around fixing the stage lights or whatever. you even remembered his name by the end of the first day, which? yeah, idols usually don’t bother with that.

fast forward a couple months, and jeonghan’s still hanging around. he didn’t plan to stay, but something about you changed that. it wasn’t even the work, really. it was more like you made things different for the whole staff—hairdressers, makeup artists, stylists, all of them. you had this habit of, like, breaking all the usual rules. you’d bring coffee for everyone in the morning, none of that half-assed, "just for my personal team" bullshit, you made sure everyone was taken care of, because they take care of you as welll.

then there was that time when you randomly called up your manager one day like, "hey, i’m taking everyone out to eat after the shoot." and jeonghan was standing there, trying not to look too surprised, but inside he was like, who the hell does that? especially in this industry where staff usually gets a handshake and a “thanks for your work” at most. while you’re out here throwing cash around to make sure your team is happy. it’s wild.

he remembers the first time you handed out those holiday bonuses. it wasn’t even from the company’s budget either; it was straight up from your own wallet. like, your money. you didn’t even make a big deal about it, just casually handed out envelopes and said, “merry christmas, you guys.” you should’ve seen their faces—everyone was shook, even him, and he doesn’t get surprised that easily. it was one of those moments where the room just, like, collectively inhaled. there was silence, and then someone—probably one of the stylists—goes, “y/n, this is... you didn’t have to...”

and you? you just shrugged, all casual, like it was no big deal. “nah, i wanted to. thank you for taking care of me, you make part of all of this too.” you pointed to the stage.

jeonghan couldn’t even look at you right for a second because it was, like, damn, okay, she’s for real. that was the moment he decided he wasn’t just gonna treat this gig like all the others. working with you? yeah, it felt different. and not in some sappy, fairytale shit kind of way, but in a “maybe there are still people in this industry who aren’t complete assholes” kind of way.

“so you’re sticking around, hannie?” you asked him one day, catching him off guard while he was fixing up your jacket right before a stage performance.

he smirked, his usual cocky, nonchalant self, but there was something softer underneath it. “guess i don’t have a choice. you make it too easy.”

he was your go-to guy now, the one you trusted with everything, from making sure your hair wasn’t fucked up during press tours to giving you a reality check when you were stressing over the dumbest things. and he liked that. he liked being the one you leaned on when you didn’t wanna bother anyone else.

but it was more than that too. you were just different. the way you treated people, the way you made sure everyone around you felt seen, felt valued? it wasn’t fake. it wasn’t for show. it was you. and jeonghan? well, he wasn’t the kind of guy to stick around just for anyone. but for you? yeah, maybe he’d go the long haul.

jeonghan was always there, like a constant shadow that somehow made everything feel lighter instead of heavier. as your career blew up, he didn’t just keep pace—he matched your energy, your needs, every twist and turn that came with your fame. whether it was press tours, backstage chaos, or those ridiculous interviews where some clueless host would try to push your boundaries, he was always ready.

you’d be in the middle of a tv show, mind racing, and then there’d be a subtle shift. jeonghan standing just offstage, watching with a sharp, gaze of his. and it wasn’t like he had to do much—sometimes just a look was enough to let you know he had your back. like that time they tried to switch up your routine last minute, making changes that didn’t sit right with you. you didn’t even need to speak up, though. before you could say a word, he was already stepping in, throwing that effortless, yet somehow intimidating smile toward the team. “nah, we’re sticking with the original plan. my artist doesn’t do changes without notice.”

“your artist,” you’d hear him say that a lot, like a protective label stamped right over you, like you belonged to him—not in a possessive way, but in a way that made you feel safe. secure.

it wasn’t just about the work either, not even close. jeonghan made the loneliness that came with fame feel less suffocating. that part of fame nobody talks about—the part where you can’t make real friends anymore, where every new person in your life feels temporary, transactional. except him. he was loyal.

when you had those long, grueling days full of photoshoots and interviews and events, and all you wanted was to escape, jeonghan was the one who made sure you still had a piece of normal.

like that one time in paris. you were there for a fashion show, sitting front row with all these industry giants who couldn’t care less about anything but themselves, and jeonghan was right beside you, but afterward, when it was just the two of you, he was the one who dragged you to some random hole-in-the-wall restaurant down the street, far from all the cameras and flashing lights, ordering too much food and laughing at how terrible your french was.

“you know, you’re lucky you’ve got me,” he teased, watching you struggle with the menu. “otherwise, you’d be stuck ordering water and bread for the rest of the trip.”

you elbowed him playfully. “i’m just trying to be cultured, okay?”

“sure, sure,” he snickered, but the grin on his face was soft, like he was glad to be there with you. “leave the culture to me.”

he was there on the quieter days too. you’d be at home, no schedule to follow for once, just free. but that freedom? it felt empty when you didn’t have anyone to share it with. jeonghan got that. he’d show up at your place without even needing an invitation, like he just knew when you needed him there. sometimes he wouldn’t even knock. you’d just hear the door click open and his familiar voice, “you better not be working in there.”

you’d laugh, shouting back from wherever you were in the apartment, “i’m not, calm down.”

next thing you knew, he’d be on the floor of your pristine living room, surrounded by lego pieces because, for some reason, that’s what the two of you did on your days off. it was ridiculous, really, two adults crouched over colorful plastic blocks, but it made you feel like a kid again, like before everything got so complicated.

you’d crouch down next to him, watching his hands move, and without thinking, you’d wrap your arms around him from behind, pressing your cheek against his shoulder. it wasn’t even romaaaantic, more like instinct. jeonghan had this way of making you feel safe, like you didn’t have to be the perfect version of yourself all the time. you could just be you. and hugging him like that, clinging onto him like a koala, it was the only way you knew how to show him just how much he meant to you.

“you’re clingy today,” he murmured, but there was no complaint in his voice, just that familiar teasing.

“you’re soft,” you shot back, squeezing him tighter, feeling the warmth of his body against yours. his cologne was subtle but always the same, something that reminded you of quiet, peaceful moments, like this.

he tilted his head a little, catching your eyes “oh, yeah? not what you said last time.”

you puffed your cheeks out, crossing your arms dramatically, the sulk settling in. “i’m done being clingy with you, jeonghan.”

he grinned like he was waiting for that exact reaction. it’s almost like he lived for these moments—when you’d pout and try to act all tough, but really? he knew exactly where this was headed. you weren’t fooling anyone, especially not him.

“oh yeah?” he tilted his head, gaze dripping with amusement as he leaned in, close enough that his breath brushed your ear. “you sure about that?”

you tried to hold firm, but the way his voice dropped a little lower, teasing. you shifted your weight, crossing your legs under you on the living room floor, avoiding eye contact. “mmhmm. you’ll see.”

jeonghan let out a soft chuckle, leaning back and watching you with a glint in his eyes, like he was just waiting for you to crack. “you’re too cute when you sulk, y’know that?”

your heart fluttered, but you bit down on the inside of your cheek, determined to keep up the act. “whatever.”

he moved closer, a hand sliding around your waist, tugging you just enough so that your body leaned into his. “nah, don’t pout, baby,” he murmured, lips brushing lightly against your jaw. “we both know how this ends.”

and he was right. because, every time you tried to act like you were done with him, like you were going to keep your distance, it only ended one way—with you wet underneath him, a needy mess, begging for more.

like that first time in paris. paris had done something to the both of you. it was supposed to be a normal night, just you and him hanging out after the fashion show. nothing special, just another city on the endless list of places you’d been together. but somehow, that night went different. the second the hotel room door clicked shut behind you, you’d scarcely made it through the door before his hands were on you, grabbing, pulling, claiming.

“thought you were gonna keep your distance,” jeonghan had teased as he pressed you up against the wall, his lips trailing down your neck, making your knees weak.

you were already panting, feeling the warmness of him beaming off his body. “shut up, hannie.”

he chuckled against your skin, his tongue flicking out to taste you, making you gasp. “aww, so cute when you’re needy.”

and fuck, were you needy. by the time he’d pushed you onto the bed, tugging at your clothes, you were already whimpering for him, already soaked.

he’d dragged you to the edge, rough hands all over your body, pulling, squeezing, leaving marks everywhere. your hair had been perfect for the show, all sleek and done up, but that shit didn’t last long. the second he had his fist tangled in it, pulling your head back, it was ruined. thrusting into you from behind, his cock splitting you in half with each brutal thrust. “such a fucking mess.”

you’d tried to keep quiet, biting down on the pillow as your body rocked with every movement, but every time you let out a whiny moan, jeonghan was right there to mock you for it.

“aww, hannie’s being too harsh?” he cooed, as he tries to sound sweet. “hm? poor baby can’t take it?”

you’d only moaned louder, your body trembling as he slapped your ass, the sting making you cry out. he’d leaned down then, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, “use your words, sweetheart. tell hannie how bad you want it.”

you couldn’t even speak, just a mess of broken moans and gasps as he kept slamming into you, the sound of skin against skin echoing through the room. and just when you thought you couldn’t take it anymore, when you were right on the edge, that’s when he did it. his hand came up to your face, smudging the glitter from the show as he slapped you—not enough to really hurt. he is a careful guy.

“fuck, y/n, look at you. such a pretty little mess,” he groaned, his grip on your hair tightening as he pounded into you from behind, relentless. “you gonna come for me? c’mon, baby, let me hear it.”

you whimpered, nodding, your mind spinning as his cock hit that perfect spot over and over, making you roll your eyes, drool, everything u had right of. but just as you were about to cum, he pulled out, leaving you empty and desperate.

“aww, no no no, not yet,” jeonghan cooed, a wicked grin on his face as he turned you onto your back, pushing your legs open wide. “hannie’s not done with you.”

your heart pounded, your entire body aching for release, but you didn’t dare move. he was in control, and you knew better than to push him.

“what’s the matter, baby?” he leaned down, his lips brushing over yours as he teased you. “too much?”

you shook your head, barely able to get the words out. “n-no… please…”

his smirk widened, that wicked glint in his eyes making you shiver. “please what? gotta tell me what you want, sweetheart.”

you whimpered, your hands gripping the sheets as you looked up at him, desperate. “please… fuck me…”

“good girl.”

2K notes · View notes

2hightocare · 4 months ago

Text

BIRTHDAY CHAOS!

Synopsis: It’s Jungkook’s birthday and obviously it couldn’t just be a small get together… according to everyone.

Genre: comedy, found family, established relationships.

Pairing: DILF!jungkook x fem!reader

Warnings: curse words, mentions of sex, alcohol consumption, family oriented, jungkook being sappy, just full on fluff, this is more bts centered than just jungkook and oc, cowboy jungkook YEEEHAW!

a/n: Tupac back! TUPAC BACK! hi im back… i haven’t been writing these pasts months like i used to— school has had me busy with so many papers that the idea of writing for anything outside school literally sends chills down my spine. BUT! i miss writing my very close imaginary family so enjoy🤍

…

"We're doing the absolute most," Jia sighs, slumping backward and releasing an untied balloon. It zooms across the floor, landing by your feet. "We're talking about the same person, right?" Eunbi asks from her position on the floor, colorful confetti spread out in front of her as she carefully glues a number onto the banner.

"Let’s not bully my man on his birthday," you playfully scold your best friend, giving her blonde hair a gentle tug.

Eunbi looks up at you with a pout. "Ow!" She scrunches her nose, sticking her tongue out before returning to decorating the banner on the ground.

"That ‘happy birthday’ looks crooked as fuck," Taehyung comments, crossing his arms over his chest as he looks down at the colorful banner beside the long-haired blonde. "Ari, permission to clock his shit right now," Eunbi says, looking up to Taehyung’s wife, who is perched on Namjoon’s shoulders, sticking balloons to the wall.

"Permission granted," Ari mumbles around the tape in her mouth. "But stay away from his face; we have an event coming up." Her voice is clearer as she uses the tape to secure a balloon.

"Honey, you did not just—what the actual fuck?" Taehyung gasps dramatically, quickly dodging Eunbi’s attempt to hit him with a pair of confetti poppers.

"Girl, next time, aim for his balls—" Aera begins but is interrupted by the front door slamming open, making everyone freeze in place.

The room goes deathly quiet before everyone exhales in relief as Lora, Jimin, Daeun, Yoongi, and Seokjin come rushing through the door.

"Y/n, I tried to stop them, but they wouldn’t listen," Yoongi says first, rushing to his wife on the floor. He drops a kiss on her cheek before looking up at you, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Don’t even! You helped us pick which one!" Jimin defends himself, placing a hand on his chest as if he’s been mortally wounded. Lora laughs out loud, bouncing with excitement.

"You look too happy for anyone's peace of mind," Hoseok observes, a small smile of amusement on his face.

You raise an eyebrow, confused, both hands on your hips as you wait for someone to start explaining. "Before you get mad..." Lora begins, only to be silenced by your raised hand.

"I’m already mad," you sigh, making everyone burst into laughter.

"Jungkook said he wanted one, so we got it for him," Daeun explains, clicking his tongue and biting her lower lip anxiously. She’s the newest addition to your group—she and Jimin started dating a few months ago. Despite her shy nature, Daeun clicked with everyone quickly, although her personality is much more calm than anyone else’s she fit in perfectly. Still no one could beat Jungkook’s and Eunbi’s track record when it came to the most extroverted of the bunch.

You raised an eyebrow in confusion, waiting for an explanation. At the same time, Seokjin nervously let out a small, low-pitched "giddy up," his voice cracked as he hesitated. He awkwardly mimed cracking a whip, glancing around with a sheepish grin, clearly embarrassed and already regretting it.

"You guys bought him a horse?" you gasp, eyes nearly popping out of your head as you watch everyone else's expressions mirror your shock. Silence fills the room, and it’s almost comedic when one of the balloons that Ari was blowing deflates. As everyone waits for your reaction, you hear the blonde on the ground whisper.

"Wait, he really wanted a horse? I thought he was joking! Babe—we should’ve gotten him the horse first as a thank you gift for giving me bubbles on my birthday," Eunbi whispers to her husband, who gives her a 'not now, baby' look.

Before you know it, you're pulling on Eunbi’s hair again. "The fuck are we going to do with a horse?" you sigh heavily, flailing your arms around.

One thing you learned from everyone is that they all go to great lengths for each other, no matter how ridiculous the idea or situation might be—and you fully participate in the chaos. But right now, the only thought in your mind is how you’re going to murder five people simultaneously.

"How did going for birthday hats end with you guys buying him a horse?" Joon asks, his face scrunched in confusion as Taehyung tries not to laugh while helping his wife off Namjoon’s shoulders.

"We didn’t buy one..." Jimin says, looking around nervously, waiting for someone to step in.

"We rented one!" Lora jumps in happily, clapping her hands. Her long, straight black hair bounces around her face as her deep dimples appear while she shoves her phone into your face.

"Isn’t it so cute? The person renting it out said his name is Rex, but I think he gives off more ‘Goody’ vibes." Lora shrugs happily, showing you multiple pictures of a huge, beautiful black horse.

"Can we talk about how big a horse shits," Seokjin mentions dramatically to the boys that stayed behind at the house. Your mind already making a mental note that the five responsible will be cleaning up after the horse in your backyard later.

"When is it getting here?" you sigh in defeat, making Lora clap excitedly.

"Aww, you didn’t crash out! Maturity looks so good on you, babes!" Eunbi cheers from the ground.

…

"I am not wearing this shit," Hoseok groans loudly, rolling his head back and stomping his feet like a child. "Why did I get the worst one out of everyone?" His hands flail dramatically as he explains, clearly annoyed that his t-shirt is, in his opinion, the most boring.

"You think yours is wack?" Eunbi side-eyes him, pointing at her own shirt. "I’m wearing a picture of Jungkook's face with the words, ‘Big dick is back in town.’" She reads it out loud before throwing her head back with an overly dramatic sigh.

"I low-key love mine," Jimin chimes in, striking multiple poses to show off his t-shirt, which reads, ‘I wish he was real,’ beneath a large photo of Jungkook giving a thumbs-up while wearing Iseul’s pink tutu.

"That’s because yours is cool! Mine is literally..." Hobi starts, sounding enthusiastic before suddenly clamming up, which causes Jia to burst out laughing beside him.

"Wait, now I wanna see it!" Eunbi’s face lights up, reaching for the shirt bunched up in Hoseok's hands.

"Stop! I love it!" Eunbi bursts into laughter as she reads the large text across the middle of his white shirt. "Show me!" Yoongi nudges his wife, poking her in the hip for her to move aside so he can see.

A grin spreads across his face as his eyes scan the words: ‘Sorry, princess, I only date DILFs who look like this,’ followed by a heart-shaped picture of Jungkook, shirtless, flexing his muscles with a pout on his lips. Yoongi can't hold back his laughter.

"I need to know who came up with these," Yoongi chuckles, dropping his head onto Eunbi’s shoulder, still shaking with amusement.

"I am not wearing this," Hoseok snaps, snatching the shirt back from Eunbi before crossing his arms in front of his chest, pouting like a sulking kid.

"Babe, you’re so cute," Jimin teases as he watches his girlfriend make her way to the small group, whistling as he gives his girlfriend, Daeun, a playful spin. She blushes, biting her lower lip as she reads aloud the words on her own shirt.

"‘Introverted but willing to discuss...’" Daeun pauses and points at the picture of Jungkook dramatically winking beneath the text.

"That one is so cute!" Jia claps happily beside Hoseok, who is still throwing a tantrum while Eunbi laughs and points at his pouty face.

You silently chuckle as you overhear their conversation shifting from shirts to whether they should have gotten a photo booth. You quickly announce that you’re going inside to get Iseul and yourself ready before heading into the house.

The laughter from the backyard fades as you close the sliding door behind you, having spent all morning decorating it. You take a moment to check the kitchen, living room, and walls, ensuring everything looks as you had planned before rushing upstairs to shower before Iseul wakes from her nap.

After showering, blow-drying, and straightening your hair, you start to hear small whines from Iseul as she begins to wake up. You poke your head out of the bathroom and into your and Jungkook’s room, finding Iseul sitting up in bed. Her hair is disheveled, and she’s rubbing her chubby hands over her eyes, surrounded by pillows creating a makeshift barrier.

“Hi, my love,” your voice soars to a higher pitch as you approach her. “How’d you sleep, baby?” You coo, brushing her small light curls away from her face, gently poking her cheeks before planting a kiss on them both.

“I slept good,” Iseul murmurs softly, finally opening her eyes. Her Bambi-like gaze looks up at you. “Is Daddy here yet? It’s his birfday.” Your four-year-old scans the room, only to pout in disappointment when she realizes it’s just you both in the room.

“He’s almost here, so we need to make you look pretty! Okay?” You poke her small side, making her giggle and nod enthusiastically. You wrap your arms around her, holding her tight as you lift her and carry her to her room. You carefully set her down on the bed before heading into her closet to find the outfit you had planned. You also grab a couple of alternative pants options just in case the original choice doesn’t work out.

“Okay, you have two options. Pick,” you say, emerging from the closet with two pairs of bottoms. “Skirt or jeans?” You wave the options as Iseul puts her index finger on her chin and furrows her eyebrows, deep in thought. “What are you wearing?” she asks carefully, making you smile. “A skirt,” you reply, watching her nod several times before pointing at the skirt in your left hand.

"I wanna wear a skirt too!” she exclaims with a beaming smile, her dimples—clearly inherited from her dad—showing prominently.

You nod in approval and quickly help her change and brush her teeth. You also brush her hair, letting it flow down her back.

“Okay, pose for me, princess,” you giggle as you watch your daughter smile and place her hands on her hips, striking a pose.

“Okay, now stand still and look down at your shoes for me.” You ask, as she hums and gazes at her Adidas shoes and white socks with ruffles, while you click away on your camera. “You’re so beautiful,” you coo, finally standing up and reaching for your daughter’s hand to guide her outside so you can finish your makeup and get dressed.

As you open the glass door to the backyard, she finally speaks. “I know, Daddy told me I’m the most beeyootiful girl ever.” She quips before stepping out, where Yejoon—who just got here, after being dropped off by his grandparents from his dad’s side—rushes toward her, and Eunbi and Taehyung quickly start showering her with compliments about her custom-made shirt as if it were a competition.

You laugh as you watch Eunbi’s smile falter when Iseul jumps into Taehyung’s arms first. You shout that you’ll be right back, earning several thumbs up from the group. As you rush back to your room, your phone rings in your back pocket. You quickly pluck it out and see a picture of you smiling at the camera with your husband’s bicep cradling your face, making you smile as you press the green button and click ‘speaker.’

“Baby,” Jungkook’s voice comes through as you place the phone down on the counter and start your makeup.

“Hi,” you reply, tucking your hair back out of your face.

“Hi, my obnoxiously gorgeous wife, I miss you,” Jungkook says, and you smile, hearing the warmth in his voice.

“Are my girls ready? I’m almost home,” he continues. You giggle and reply with a small “yes” as you blend concealer under your eyes.

You had told Jungkook the other night that instead of a party, you wanted to take him out to eat for his birthday, just the three of you. He agreed immediately, not knowing it was a complete lie. Knowing damn well the group chat you just have made the other day with everyone from the already standing “plan b survivors” group chat with the exclusion of Jungkook—obviously—was currently being spammed with multiple suggestions of whether getting a bouncy house was a good idea or not.

“Your mom sent me her GIF not too long ago; it’s the best one she’s sent to date,” Jungkook says, making you burst out laughing, knowing exactly which kind of GIF he means. Your mom has a habit of sending extravagant GIFs with blooming flowers and sparkles, with bold text that reads something completely different depending on the mood, situation or event.

“She edited me into the background this time. You know, the one where I’m flexing my muscles with those pink ribbons you tied on them,” he recounts, and you hum in agreement, knowing exactly what picture he’s talking about since you were the one who took and sent it to your mom.

“I love the way confetti pops the moment you click on it to play,” he chuckles, making you mirror his smile.

As he continues talking about how everyone wished him a happy birthday at the meeting he had to attend—scheduled long ago and unmissable—you listen as he changes topics to how he plans to start taking Iseul to swimming classes while you finish your makeup.

“Okay, baby, I’m around the corner. Can you put an outfit out for me so I can shower and change quickly?” Jungkook asks as you apply the last coat of mascara to your eyelashes.

Humming in agreement, you reply, “Okay, and I already did, baby,” as you twist the mascara cap shut and check yourself one last time in the mirror before grabbing your phone and heading to both your clothes laid out on the bed.

“I love you,” Jungkook says, as you return the sentiment before he disconnects.

You quickly change into your t-shirt, tying a rubber band at the back to create a crop top. You follow up by slipping into your denim mini skirt, not even taking a minute to check if it fits perfectly as you rush to find socks and matching shoes to match Iseul’s. The moment you’re dressed, you hurry downstairs, turning off every light as you make your way to the backyard, where everyone’s eyes turn to you.

“He’s coming, everyone hide!”

The position you were in was uncomfortable as hell, and no one seemed to be enjoying themselves. Iseul started to whine, complaining that her knees hurt from crouching behind the couch, which prompted Ye Joon to comment smugly that “she isn’t as strong as he is,” earning a loud “shhh” from Ari. The twins, Nari and Yeseol, were also not having it. Barely a year old, both blondes were already driving Eunbi and Yoongi crazy—you could hear Yoongi trying to calm down Nari from behind the kitchen counter, as she teetered on the verge of crying.

From your peripheral vision, you caught a glimpse of Aera and Namjoon making funny faces to distract Nari and keep her from crying. You also noticed Jiho texting on his phone, his brows furrowed in concentration. You tried not to laugh when Jia snatched his phone away, scolding him to “pay attention.”

Suddenly, your heart fluttered as you heard the front door open, followed by Jungkook’s familiar voice calling out.

“Baby, where are you?” he called, murmuring under his breath about how dark it was. He moved towards the light switch and flicked it on. Before he could react, everyone shouted, “Surprise!” as colorful confetti burst from poppers, flying everywhere and littering the floor.

“Oh, fuck!” he shrieked, clutching his chest in surprise.

“Happy birthday!” everyone yelled together, rushing forward to hug him. Iseul was the first to reach him, raising her short arms for her dad to pick her up. “Happy birfday, Daddy!” Iseul kissed his cheek as Jungkook smiled brightly, while Lora snapped multiple pictures with her camera. “Your shirt, princess,” your husband beamed, reading the words and poking her side, making her squirm. “You’re a hundred percent ‘Birthday boy favorite girl,’” Jungkook said, pressing a big kiss to her cheek, reading off her shirt.

“Happy birthday, my brother,” Taehyung and Jimin chimed in, launching themselves at Jungkook the moment he set his daughter down to greet everyone else. “Where’s my gift? I don’t think my wife would’ve let anyone in without a gift fee,” Jungkook joked, patting Jimin on the back.

“I was thinking about what to get you, and I realized you don’t need anything—you already have me. I even debated wrapping myself since I’m clearly the biggest gift in your life,” Taehyung said, making everyone burst into laughter. “Exactly what I thought too,” Jimin added, earning a side-eye from Taehyung.

“Just two dumb bitches telling each other ‘exactly!’” Eunbi mocked behind them, scooting in-between the boys to give Jungkook a hug.

“Hi, blondie,” your husband teases, poking your best friend’s side, before laughing at the words on her shirt. “Big dick back in town!” Jungkook guffawed, throwing his head back in laughter.

You watched with a huge smile plastered across your face as your husband finishes hugging everyone and complimenting their shirts. Once he had said his hellos, his eyes finally met yours. His grin widened, and he walked towards you. Feeling playful, you shifted all your weight to one leg and twirled your hair around your index finger, giving him an innocent look that made him burst out laughing.

“Hi,” Jungkook smiles, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you closer.

“Hi,” you smile back, tilting your head up to meet his eyes. He gave you a quick wink before leaning down to kiss you. Your eyes fluttered shut as you melted into the kiss, his lips moving against yours in a slow, agonizing pace.

Smiling into the kiss, he finally pulled away as everyone started whistling in the background.

“There are kids here!” Namjoon shouted playfully, watching as Jungkook stuck his tongue out at him like a child.

“You take my breath away every damn time, baby,” Jungkook says, turning back to face you and pressing a soft kiss to your cheek.

“Mhm, really?” you tease, raising an eyebrow at him. He chuckles, his gaze drifting from your shoes back up to your eyes. “Yes, really,” he says, biting his lower lip.

“Okay, we get it. You guys are in love. Can we go eat now?” Jiho interrupted, looking up from his phone with a bored expression, clearly used to this level of PDA, since his own parents were just as bad.

Everyone laughed and agreed, while Jiho earned a light swat on the back of his head from his mom for “interrupting a moment.” Lora shook her head in mock disappointment, quickly passing her camera to Ari to place on the marble table before ushering everyone towards the backyard.

“Happy birthday again,” you whisper to your husband, stopping him before you could join the others who were waiting to show him the bouncy house and decorations.

“Thank you, baby,” he voices out, his voice soft and serious, making your heart clench. “Always,” you reply, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his lips again.

“I like your shirt,” Jungkook murmurs just for you, his voice low and teasing. You bite your lip, meeting his gaze.

“I mean, it’s true,” you shrug playfully, watching the slow smile spread across his face. His thumb and index finger toy with your belly ring that you’ve just put back in, and he tilts his head with a grin. “I’m hoping I got a shirt and it says ‘I heart milfs’ to match yours,” he jokes, his smile faltering when he notices the way your lips press together.

“What does it say?” he sighs, bracing for disappointment.

“‘Birthday boy,’” you reveal, trying not to laugh as his jaw drops in exaggerated shock.

“That’s not fair! I was expecting something wild like everyone else’s. How does Eunbi get ‘big dick back in town,’ and I get ‘birthday boy’?” He pouts, and you can’t help but laugh.

“Well, aren’t you the birthday boy?” you tease, placing your manicured hand over his, resting on your belly.

“I guess...” He blows out a dramatic sigh, making you giggle.

“I missed your belly piercing,” he says softly, tugging gently on the teardrop ring in your belly button.

“And I miss your lip piercing,” you reply, brushing a finger over his bottom lip. “Please put it back in. Hopefully, Iseul doesn’t tug on it like last time.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” he groans, shuddering at the memory. Remembering how his daughter yanked on his lip piercing with all the strength a one-year-old could muster.

“Thank you for everything,” he says, hooking his fingers through the belt loops of your skirt and pulling you into a tight embrace. “I appreciate everything you do and more. I know this whole thing was your idea. Thank you,” he murmurs into the crook of your neck.

“Don’t make me cry,” you sniffle, feeling him press small kisses along your neck. Your hands rub soothing circles on his back, and you stay wrapped in each other’s arms for a minute, though it felt like only seconds. “I love you so much, baby,” he continues, squeezing your cheeks with both hands and forcing your lips into a pout before kissing them.

“I love you,” you reply, kissing his nose, making him chuckle.

“Is it bad that I want everyone to leave already so I can just spend time with you?” he whispers as you both walk towards the glass sliding door. “Lowkey yeah,” you chuckle, stopping at the door and looking up at him, only to find him already gazing at you.

“What?” you giggle, feeling shy under his intense stare.

“Nothing, just one more kiss, please. Count it as my early birthday gift,” he winks, leaning down to capture your lips again. You pull back with a laugh when you felt his tongue start to intrude. “Baby…” Jungkook whines, a goofy grin still on his face as he tugs you closer.

“Jeo—” you start, but he interrupts, kissing you again, this time swirling his tongue with yours. Your shoulders slump as his hands cradle your face, keeping you in place before separating with a small string of saliva connecting you.

“Sorry, it’s my birthday,” he whispers against your lips, before finally opening the sliding glass door and extending an arm to guide you outside. You roll your eyes playfully but let out a small yelp when you felt his hand smack your ass as you walked past him through the door.

“It’s my birthday,” he says with a cheeky grin, raising his hands in defense when you shot him a warning glare.

…

Everyone is drunk, and things spiral out of control quickly.

The moment Jungkook steps out of the house, freshly showered and changed into his matching t-shirt like everyone else, everything becomes a blur. After countless photos taken on Lora’s camera, you all eat, sing happy birthday, and Jungkook blows out his candles before cutting the cheesecake you made him the night before.

By ten at night, the kids are sent inside to sleep, and that’s when the chaos begins.

“You’re fucking lying!” Jungkook yells, eyes wide as Seokjin and a man lead a huge black horse through the backyard doors.

“Where’s my camera?!” Lora screams, looking around frantically.

“It’s inside!” Ari shouts back. Before you can react, a head of caramel curls dashes into your house.

"That thing is literally humongous," Namjoon mutters, running a hand over his face, his eyes slightly red from all the alcohol.

“You shouldn’t be talking,” Jimin retorts, eyeing Namjoon up and down, causing everyone to burst out laughing.

“You’re just mad you’re short,” Namjoon fires back, but you’ve already tuned them out, watching as Jungkook climbs onto the horse with the help of the owner.

“This is such a bad idea,” you screech, covering your eyes.

“Here!” Ari runs back out, handing Lora her camera. She immediately starts snapping photos of Jungkook, now balanced on the horse.

"Hold on tight, bro!" Yoongi yells as Jungkook wobbles before finding his balance as the horse starts walking.

"Baby, look at me!" Jungkook calls out, taking off his shirt, revealing his flexed muscles as he jokingly cracks an imaginary whip. Your heart skips a beat—stomach flips—half from how ridiculously handsome he looks and half from the fear that he might fall.

Lora, on the other hand, is in her element, snapping photos like her life depends on it.

“I wanna ride next!” Eunbi cheers, jumping up and down.

“I’ve never seen you this excited to ride me before,” Yoongi says nonchalantly, causing everyone to groan.

“Brother, eugh!” Hoseok fake gags, while Jungkook laughs from atop the horse. Eunbi’s face turns pink as she playfully pushes Yoongi, who apologizes profusely for his comment.

"Baby, can we keep it?" Jungkook asks, flashing you his signature doe eyes.

"Fuck no," you respond immediately, leaving no room for negotiation.

"You’ve only got an hour—make the most of it," you shrug, moving closer to the horse.

"An hour only?" Jungkook gasps, glancing at his friends as if they betrayed him. "Y/n didn’t want the horse, we had to compromise, lil bro," Yoongi says matter-of-factly, making Jungkook roll his eyes playfully.

"Come on, baby, let’s ride," Jungkook says, winking as he pats his lap, motioning for you to hop on, which earns a chorus of fake gags from your friends.

The hour passes in a whirlwind of laughter and screaming. Everyone takes turns riding the horse, which ends with Ari nearly face-planting, sending everyone into a panic—except for the owner, who looks like he’s ready to be done with all of you and head home.

"Shot! Shot! Shot!" the group chants as you down a shot of tequila, scrunching your face in disgust, earning more laughter. Jungkook rubs circles on your back as the cold liquor burns its way down your throat. "Fuck!" you exclaim, tapping your chest like it’ll help with the heartburn.

"You did so good, princess," Jungkook praises, tossing back his shot like it’s water, letting out an exaggerated "ah" as he sets the glass down.

It’s nearly two in the morning now. The horse is long gone, and everyone is utterly trashed. The guys, all shirtless, are slumped around the backyard, claiming it’s too hot—likely the alcohol talking.

"Five, six, five, six, seven, eight!" Eunbi shouts as the speaker blasts "Hot to Go," jumping onto a chair and belting out the lyrics.

"Here she goes," Taehyung sighs jokingly, watching Eunbi throw herself into the song.

"You’re her biggest opp," Aera comments with a smile as Jungkook joins Eunbi, copying her arm movements.

"Opp stands for opposite, right?" Taehyung asks, which sends everyone into another round of laughter.

"Opponent, dumbass," Jimin smacks him on the back of the head, snickering at Taehyung's widened eyes.

"Did you guys read the weight limit for the bouncy house?" you ask out of nowhere, standing up, suddenly eager to jump around.

"There’s a weight limit?" Daeun and Seokjin ask simultaneously, then look at each other. "Jinx!" they say in unison, making you laugh.

"Yeah, the person who rents them usually tells you," you explain, kicking off your shoes before climbing into the character-themed bouncy house. You barely stand up before everyone starts piling in.

"If anyone throws up, I’ll kill you—" Lora screeches as Taehyung accidentally shoves her, sending her face-first into the bouncy floor. "I’m so sorry!" he laughs, trying to help her up despite the bouncing of everyone.

"Guys, I think it might pop," Daeun warns, clinging to Jimin for balance. You try reaching for Jungkook but get launched across the bouncy house by the devil herself, Eunbi.

"Ah!” You scream, laughing as you tumble into Lora. The laughter doesn’t last long, though, as a loud pop echoes through the air. Everyone stills before panic sets in as the bouncy house deflates rapidly, and everyone scrambles to the small exit.

You all stand in stunned silence, staring at the flattened bouncy house sprawled across the grass. Despite knowing how much trouble you're in with the renter, you can’t help but laugh.

"Welp, happy birthday to me," Jungkook shrugs with a grin.

🐈‍⬛: @allie-is-a-panda @minghaosimp @nicolepvp8 @blaricee @parkinglot-nights @jmscaffeine @httpjeonlicious @jeonjungkooksbabamomma @army061313 @crazyovayou @thvvcut (idk why some don’t tag😔)

1K notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 2 years ago

Note

UPDATE What's up, it's the proposal guy. You said you wanted to know how this turned out, so I figured I'd tell you. First some context though, because I'm mean and I wanna keep you in suspense longer.

1- I don't wanna doxx us so I'm not telling you where we live, but suffice to say, neither of us are American, and gay marriage has been legal here for less than five years. For both of us, this is the first relationship we've had where marriage was even an OPTION, and I think that's where we've been getting some of that whole 'this has to be a REAL proposal with EVERYTHING' idea.

2- I gotta figure out how to explain this properly. So, I'm pretty used to being the GUY guy in relationships? I was always the one who did the nice gestures, not the one they got done for. Before I met my dream guy, I didn't really notice or care that it was such a thing, I just assumed that's how shit worked. Also, I promised I wouldn't talk a lot about his stuff here, but his last boyfriend before me SUCKED. Anyway point here is, it turns out we both REALLY like feeling swept off our feet sometimes, and a big part of finding each other has been getting to feel special for once? That's a stupid sappy way of putting it the point here is I think all that's what morphed into "I need to be the one getting proposed to, also it has to be completely perfect", and then our Petty & Extra genes got involved.

So I'm sitting in bed thinking about all that up there, and watching all the comments coming in basically being like "Dude, you are BLOWING this" on repeat, and telling me to compromise, and I look up and see him flossing in the bathroom and making all these doofy faces at the mirror, and it's like a switch just flips in my brain, and I'm like "Oh, I'd rather he gets to have his perfect proposal than we both have an okay one". I'm gonna do it.

Morning rolls around, and while I'm 'out for my jog like normal' I hit up a pawn shop for a temp ring (the ring pop thing is cute but NOT HIM). I found one I was at least confident wouldn't get ruined the first time he got his hands greasy (he fixes old machines as a hobby it's hot as hell), got back home, and hid the box in the toe of my nasty ass workout shoes in the bedroom closet, since I figured he'd check there last.

He was still asleep, because he stays up late no matter what and then is SHOCKED he's tired the next day, so I called and booked a table at our usual anniversary spot. (Side note about the 'he picks bad restaurants' thing. This isn't an 'I like Greek, you like Chinese' situation, dude's just BAD at finding places. He either assumes pricey is tasty and I get to eat some overrated gourmet bullshit, or he'll try and find something hip and underground and risk giving us food poisoning again, and he REFUSES to give up and pick somewhere we've been before when it's his turn to plan date night. I'm obsessed with him <3.) Date was set, I'd propose on the 21st.

Some of you might have noticed this, but fun fact! It's currently the 16th.

Last night I'm doing dishes and he's been sent to our room for mug collection duty, and he's taking FOREVER, so I go check just in case he found the ring, because the man's a gift tracking BLOODHOUND. Turns out he hasn't, he's found my Angry Box.

I assume other people have an Angry Box? Basically, we had this huge messy fight right when we first moved in together, and I never wanna let it get that bad again, so I have this shoebox where I keep a bunch of our stuff I can look at if we're fighting and hopefully cool off. There's one of those photo booth roll things, letters we wrote when he moved back with his parents for COVID, the wine cork from our first date, shit like that. Anyway, he's just sitting on the floor staring at it, and I explain about the Angry Box, and then he! Proposes!!! Kind of.

He definitely didn't have anything prepared, because by 'propose' I mean 'ugly cried & rambled at me for several minutes before I figured out it WAS a proposal', but once I got on the same page it was amazing. I said yes, and he had to admit he didn't have a ring for me because he was CONVINCED he'd win and I'd do it, so I grabbed mine because, yeah, he was right. He was like "this is the ugliest ring I've ever seen" and I was like yeah well the plan is to replace it later and he went "No. You can pry this off my cold dead fingers. After I'm buried with it." So I guess it's not a temporary ring anymore.

I'm just gonna go ahead and skip to this morning. I pointed out we still have the reservation, and he said I should propose there anyway because "We can get a free dessert. They have those creme brulee shot glasses you like. And for love, or something" and I said ok deal, but that means you gotta get me a ring to keep it fair, and his eyes LIT UP. When I swung by his work for lunch he was still on the phone with a jeweler and he had a whole page of notes on three other ones. Pray for me.

OH PS: I was RIGHT that he'd been the one behind the cat biting me, but it wasn't about the proposal stuff, it's because I paid my baby sister three dollars to shout 'fuck you' every single time he enters a room she's in for (if you ask me, he should be madder at my sister for charging so little), and he did it by giving her a bunch of treats for biting his hands too, so now neither of us can pet our baby girl without oven mitts on. HOLY SHIT I love this man.

Oh my goddddddd I love everything about this <333 I awwww'd out loud on a voice call, like, six times while reading. You two are friggin perfect for each other and so obviously smitten with each other and I wish y'all all the happiness in the world

PS Are y'all planning to have a big wedding? If so oh boy I can't WAIT to get that one in the inbox

Original post

#aita #am i the asshole #aita update #the saga of proposal anon

12K notes · View notes

ramonathinks · 6 months ago

Text

Fuck it, Guess We Both Ain't Shit — GOJO

summary: as meg said, “quit asking when imma leave my n*gga, knowin’ you still with your bitch”

cw// 18+, MDNI cheating, sex, fingering, oral, risky sex, geto slander, squirting, choking, slight impact play, sappy moments,

tagging -> @satorubi @sunasbon haha. dividers by @/cafekitsune word counter: 1.1k just a little thirst/drabble :p

“he’s your best friend” this was a conversation almost twice a week, with him on his knees looking right at your puffy clit, spreading your legs wide enough so he can fit through, though just barely.

“and she’s your roommate” he huffs out a laugh, kissing the bud and you flinch back, legs trembling.

“ah– fuck… fuck you.” even with saying that, you open your legs more, waiting and wanting for him to have his fill of you. his fingers, his tongue, his cock was all you could think of most days and you hated yourself for it.

“me and suguru always loved to share our toys. but you just want me all to yourself right? only me, hm? so why not just break up with him?” gojo’s fingers are on your clit but they roam, teasing your slit — almost inside but steadily running up and down, your breathing hitched and shook as you spoke.

“why not break up with her?” you counter, grinding your hips to his palm. you hated how he always made you fight to get a touch from him.

“nah baby, tell me… humor me? make me understand or I’ll stop,” he looks in your eyes, stares deep into them until all you can see is blue surrounding you. “i won’t let you cum.” he’s doing the thing now to tempt you…sliding his fingers inside, curves them just well enough that you can taste your orgasm and pull away.

“he’s just …” your throat closes up but he slows his pace, he wants to know the truth… the rivalry he and Suguru had was always different, something twisted in his head; best friends but deeper and worse. it wasn't hatred and it wasn't that he even wanted to be him, but he wanted everything that suguru had and it was torture... evident that he was still a child at heart. a selfish needy child.

“he can’t make me cum, okay? especially…” you’re gasping. “especially like you do, satoru. he’s not as big and he just doesn’t feel right… i..--”

he’s shoving his face into your pussy, slick and saliva sliding down his face as he eats you out. throwing your leg over his shoulder for a better taste. “actually, i don’t think i can wait any longer, need to be inside you.” his shirt's on the floor and he's smiling at you, sliding the head of his cock around your slit.

"so why me over her?" you ask, gasping when he settles inside of you and he hisses feeling your tightness around him.

“this fucking cunt is the reason, so fucking pretty and perfect.” he says, with you squeezing him tight he feels like he’s going to cum, his cock twitching and your juices sliding down his length, sinking himself lower and fucking inside of you hard. you’re swatting his chest, overwhelmed at him hitting a particularly gooey part inside of you. “c’mon baby, i know you can take it for me. you always do, come on.” pressing his hand against your stomach to feel himself inside of you, you both smile. “fucking stuffing you, aren’t i?”

he sped up his pace, dragging himself in and out of your pussy so slow that it almost hurt whenever he slipped out and it made you wrap your legs around his waist and to hold him close against your chest. he slips out, slides in and his cock strokes your inner walls at a dangerous pace, his hand on your hip. he moves to kiss your lips and you turn your head, away from him.

“still won’t let me kiss you? that’s too far for you, hm? can’t be cheating if i haven’t kissed those pretty lips, is that what you think?” he’s laughing and it makes your chest hurt a bit at how mean he’s being. “those pretty lips suck my cock and you dirty those knees for me, but can’t kiss me… scared you’ll fall deeper?” his thrusts are harder and deeper, you’re gasping until he wraps a hand around your throat.

he slaps your throbbing cunt, once and watches the clear waterfall of your squirt drip like a faucet with a smirk, tapping the head of his cock on your slap, fascinated at how more comes out. there’s a smile on his lips as he fucks more of it out of you, rolling his hips enough that it angled his cock to a new position, the tip nudging that spot again and fucking it ever so slightly. your moans breathy and loud, as if you didn’t care who heard which made me laugh at you.

you’re dizzy and your body is humming, your mind so light that your thoughts are clouded with fantasies that won’t come true; him taking care of you and providing, not even just sex but more… your heart is thumping with excitement and awe, a droopy smile touches your lips. “do you really want me?” you sound far away and muffled, your tongue heavy. “or am I just another conquest for you, sa–toru..”

he sounds close, you can feel his body radiating heat against yours, a laugh on the tip of his tongue: “i never wanted anyone as badly as i want you, suguru has good taste, but i plan on making you mine.” he kisses the palm of your hand, peppering kisses up your arm until he’s at your shoulder, licking up your collarbone. his lips graze yours but he pulls away. “will you let me kiss you this once?”

“just this once.”

neither of you hear the bedroom door open, neither of you realize suguru is there, standing there and looking until he laughs. “here i was trying to be a good boyfriend and bring your favorite snacks since you've been sad all week and here’s satoru, who comes to see you before he even announces that he made it back from his trip and…” he laughs again, throwing the food on the floor. “and, you were only this sad because he was gone so why am i surprised that you’re fucking him?”

“sug–” you didn’t mean to, honestly… you regret not ending things but regardless if you did, getting with satoru after being with suguru would only raise the same questions.

“no.” he’s leaving, moving fast trying to get out of the door.

“please, suguru just listen.” it’s satoru who’s talking now and for a moment he does stop, turns around and he scoffs.

“he’ll break you, you know that? like he does with all the girls he’s been with.” he’s talking to you, looking over satoru’s shoulder and looking you in your eyes with a deep look of disgust and disappointment. then he’s looking at satoru, “you make me sick.” he’s huffing away, slamming the door when he leaves.

the permanent weight in your chest subsides and a rush of happiness comes for a split second, you even see satoru’s shoulders slump.

until your roommate comes in.

no part two.

1K notes · View notes

no-144444 · 21 days ago

Text

in sickness- c.leclerc

summary: you get sicky...

pairing: charles leclerc x fem! reader

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

When Charles had decided to go vacationing with his friends while you finished up your work before Christmas, he was not expecting what he saw when he came back. Every single blind in your apartment was down despite it being the middle of the day, the temperature was down from its regular 20 degrees, and you were nowhere to be found.

He dropped his bags by the door and left his shoes on the rack, and he ventured further into the apartment. You weren’t in your office, nor your living room, nor your kitchen, so the last place was your bedroom. When he opened the door, he wasn’t exactly ready for what he saw.

You, on your bed, looking sicker than ever, somehow asleep as you battled some sort of temperature. He put his hand to your forehead, and he almost pulled it right back off, you were so hot. He quickly grabbed a face cloth and ran it under cold water, then placed it on your head. He didn’t really know what else to do. You never really got sick, it was always him who was ill.

He left you to sleep as he cleaned up the rest of your apartment. Not that it was messy, it was just not as clean as he knew you liked it, so he got to work.

After about an hour of that, he decided he should make you soup or something, but then he remembered his abysmal cooking skills, and ordered food in, instead.

When you resurfaced, you didn’t feel as shit as when you went to bed, which was a plus. The past 5 days had been this awful temperature, chesty cough, nausea, and full-body aches. You groaned as you got up, knowing you should probably start cleaning your apartment-

You questioned your own brain when you opened your door from your bedroom to see your entire living room clean. Had you done it and you just didn’t remember? Were you starting to forget things now? Is that a new symptom? You should probably go back to the doctor-

“My love,” he sighed, pulling you into a hug.

“Charles?!” you questioned.

“Hi darling,” he smiled, looking down at you.

“I thought you were still in-”

“I came back early,” he explained. “What’s been wrong with you, mi beauté?”

You cracked a small smile. “I seriously doubt I look half-way beautiful right now.”

He shook his head. “You’re always beautiful.”

You rolled your eyes. “Cheesy,” you scoffed before letting go of him and walking to your kitchen. “I’ve just been sick, it’s not anything bad.”

He looked at you sceptically. “You’re sure?”

You nodded, taking out some of the soup. “Thank you for coming, but I really don’t want you to get this, so you should head to your apartment or something.”

He frowned. “My own girlfriend kicking me out?”

You rolled your eyes again. “Your own girlfriend is looking out for your safety, I think you’ll find.”

He shook his head, sitting beside you on the couch. “I’m not leaving you. In sickness and in health.”

You sucked in a breath of air. “We’re not even engaged yet.”

He shrugged. “I plan on honouring that for the rest of my life, why not start now.”

You grinned, resting your head against his shoulder on the couch as you started channel hopping. “You’re so sappy.”

He shrugged. He didn't mind anything you called him, once you still called him yours.

୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ⋅୨ৎ

navigation for my blog :)

ferrari masterlist

628 notes · View notes

ha-rinrin · 2 months ago

Text

Yours, Always

summary: Jinx asks you an important question, with the stars as witness

Pairing: Jinx x Fem!reader

Wordcount: 2k

Authors note: Even tough I feel like shit, writing somehow helps me work trough my emotions. I have another like 3 ideas on how this can go, so definitely keep an eye out for more versions.

masterlist

The stars above feel closer than ever, twinkling brightly over the city. You lie side by side with Jinx on a soft, worn blanket, wrapped up in each other as if there’s no one else in the world. She’s lying on her back, one arm stretched out, and you’re nestled into her side, one arm crossing her stomach, resting your head on her shoulder. Her fingers are softly tracing patterns on your arm, the touch light but grounding, as if she wants to memorize every part of you.

She pulls you closer, her arm shifting so it wraps fully around your shoulders, drawing you against her. Her cheek rests on top of your head, and you can feel the rise and fall of her chest with every steady breath. The cool night air settles around you, but her warmth, the way she holds you, feels like home.

With a soft sigh, Jinx shifts slightly, guiding you to lie even closer to her, your bodies pressed together. You look up, meeting her eyes, and she smiles—a gentle, vulnerable smile that’s just for you. She reaches up, her hand brushing a stray strand of hair from your face, letting her fingers linger as they trace the outline of your cheek.

“I don’t really… do this,” she says quietly, her voice almost a whisper against the stillness of the night. “But I guess… I like having you here. Like… a lot.”

You smile, snuggling deeper into her embrace, and she responds by shifting so you’re both facing each other, wrapped up in each other’s arms. Her fingers drift to the small of your back, holding you close, her forehead resting against yours.

“Can’t believe I’m getting all mushy,” she says, a soft laugh escaping her. But there’s no hint of her usual bravado. Just the gentle way her thumb strokes your back, the way her legs tangle with yours, drawing you closer than you thought possible.

“Maybe mushy isn’t so bad,” you murmur, letting your fingers glide along her shoulder. The warmth of her breath on your cheek sends a flutter through your chest as she tilts her head, pressing a gentle, lingering kiss to your lips. It’s soft, sweet, and says more than words ever could.

She pulls back just enough to look at you, her purple eyes holding a tenderness that’s rare, almost fragile. “Stay here with me, just like this,” she whispers, her voice a promise as her arms tighten around you.

And as you lie there, wrapped up in each other, you feel like the whole world could fade away, and you wouldn’t mind one bit. Because in this moment, under the stars, in her arms—everything is perfect.

The night feels endless and comforting as you lie together, wrapped in the warmth of each other and the blanket beneath you. You notice the subtle change in Jinx—her fingers tracing over your arm in a slower, almost hesitant way, and the way her gaze keeps drifting up to the stars, then back to you, like she’s working up the nerve to say something.

She pulls you even closer, her forehead resting against yours, and you feel her breath hitch, as if she’s caught off guard by the depth of her own emotions. Her usual playful grin is absent, replaced by a softer, almost shy smile as she holds you, her fingers brushing up and down your back.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks, her voice softer than you’ve ever heard it. She doesn’t wait for your answer, like she’s afraid she’ll lose her courage if she does. “Being with you… it makes me feel like there’s this whole side of me I didn’t know I had. Like I finally found a place I don’t wanna run from.”

Her fingers pause, holding tightly to you as her eyes search yours, as if looking for reassurance. “I know I don’t usually get all sappy,” she mumbles, a nervous laugh escaping her, “but with you… it’s different. I feel… I don’t know.” She looks away for a second, biting her lip, and you can see a hint of red on her cheeks.

You smile, reaching up to touch her face, and she leans into your touch, closing her eyes as if letting herself savor this moment. When she opens them again, there’s something deeper there, a flicker of nervous anticipation that makes your heart skip.

“I guess… I just wanna keep you around,” she says, her words coming out quickly, almost stumbling over each other. Her hand fidgets on your arm, tracing slow circles as if she’s trying to calm herself down. “I mean… forever, if you’d want that. But, uh, you know, no pressure…”

She lets out a breathy laugh, her face flushed as she glances away, clearly flustered. “I’ve just… I’ve never felt like this before,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers tighten around yours, grounding herself in your touch. “And I don’t ever want it to end.”

You feel your chest swell, warmth spreading through you as her words settle in. You squeeze her hand in reassurance, your thumb brushing over her knuckles, watching as she relaxes slightly, a hint of her usual grin returning as she pulls you closer.

The peaceful night air shifts as you feel Jinx’s arms tighten around you. Her fingers have stopped their gentle tracing, and she lets out a shaky breath. She pulls back, glancing at you with wide eyes filled with something between excitement and nerves. You’ve seen Jinx look a lot of ways—confident, mischievous, bold—but this look is new. Almost vulnerable.

“C-can you… stand up for a sec?” she stammers, her voice catching slightly as she untangles herself from you, her hands lingering on your arms as if to steady herself.

Confused, but intrigued, you sit up and get to your feet. She follows, but instead of standing fully, she settles down onto one knee, looking up at you, her cheeks flushed and her fingers visibly trembling as she reaches into her pocket.

And then she pulls out a ring box, snapping it open to reveal a diamond ring that sparkles in the faint light from the city below—a ring so big and brilliant that it almost catches your breath.

Your mind goes blank for a moment, your heart racing as you process what’s unfolding in front of you. Your hand instinctively moves to cover your mouth, and you feel a wave of warmth rush through you, as if every beat of your heart is echoing, saying yes, yes, yes This is Jinx, on one knee, her eyes searching yours with a mixture of hope and uncertainty that makes your chest tighten with pure emotion.

Jinx swallows hard, her voice a little shaky, and for a second, it’s like she’s struggling to find the words. “I… I know I’m not perfect. I’m reckless and a little… well, a lot chaotic. And I probably drive you insane half the time. But when I’m with you, I don’t want to be anywhere else.”

A soft, amazed laugh slips from you, but you don’t dare interrupt. You’re transfixed, every nerve ending attuned to her, to the way her thumb brushes over the diamond, grounding herself as she looks back up with those bright blue eyes, filled with more emotion than you’ve ever seen in them.

“I want this. Us. Forever.” Her voice steadies, her usual confidence returning as she looks up at you with a grin that’s all Jinx—playful, intense, and utterly devoted. “So, what do you say? Wanna make all my future trouble your problem, officially?”

Her question hangs in the air, and for a moment, the world seems to stop. The stars, the city lights below—they’re all background noise to the look on her face, hopeful and nervous, her heart wide open in a way she rarely shows.

Your vision blurs as tears prick your eyes, and as you meet her gaze, you know there’s only one answer you’d ever give her.

Your heart feels like it might burst as you stare down at her, your mind racing to keep up with the whirlwind of emotions. There she is, Jinx, the wild, unpredictable force that turned your world upside down, now kneeling in front of you with an earnest, almost desperate look in her eyes.

She lets out a breathy laugh, scratching the back of her neck, her fingers still gripping the ring box. “You’re really quiet… Don’t leave me hanging here, or I might actually combust,” she says, flashing that familiar grin, though there’s a tremor to it, like she’s more vulnerable than she’s ever been.

You drop to your knees in front of her, taking her hands in yours. She stiffens in surprise, her cheeks flushed, but she doesn’t pull away. Instead, she watches you with a mix of relief and excitement, her lips parting slightly as you bring your hand to her cheek, brushing your thumb along her skin.

“Yes,” you breathe, and her face lights up, her eyes widening as the word sinks in. “Yes, I want everything with you, Jinx. Your trouble, your chaos, your everything.”

For a second, she’s stunned into silence, and then she’s laughing, a sound so bright and joyous that it fills the night air around you. She slides the ring onto your finger, her hands trembling a little as she presses a kiss to your knuckles, her lips soft and lingering.

“I can’t believe you said yes,” she whispers, pulling you into her arms as she tumbles back onto the blanket, bringing you down with her in a mess of tangled limbs and laughter. She holds you close, burying her face in your neck, her fingers tracing gentle patterns on your back as if grounding herself in this moment.

Her voice softens, barely audible against your skin. “You know, I never thought I’d be lucky enough to find someone who’d want me like this,” she admits, her voice thick with emotion. “But you… you’re everything.”

You pull back to look at her, your fingers brushing through her hair as you lean down to kiss her, slow and deep. Her arms tighten around you, pulling you even closer as if she never wants to let go.

As you lie together, wrapped in each other, the city below fades away, leaving only the two of you, and a new promise that stretches as endless as the stars above.

You pull back slightly, feeling a grin tug at the corners of your mouth as you look into her wide, sparkling eyes. Her fingers are still tracing along your back, but you reach into your own pocket, heart pounding as you remember the surprise you’d been carrying with you, waiting for the right moment—hoping, somehow, she’d want the same.

“Actually… I have something for you too,” you say softly, pulling out a small ring box and popping it open to reveal the ring you’d picked out for her.

Jinx’s eyes go wide, and then she throws her head back, bursting into laughter—a wild, joyous laugh that seems to echo into the night, filling the rooftop with her energy. She wraps her arms around you, pulling you close as her laughter vibrates against you, her eyes shining with delight.

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” she gasps between laughs, barely able to keep it together as she looks at you, pure happiness radiating from her. “We really are perfect for each other, aren’t we?”

You laugh with her, wrapping your arms around her and burying your face in her shoulder, feeling her warmth and her heartbeat thrumming against yours. She lifts her head, meeting your gaze with a grin that’s soft yet brimming with excitement. “Alright, show me what you’ve got, babe,” she teases, still laughing.

With hands only slightly less shaky, you slide the ring onto her finger, her laughter turning into a warm, contented smile as she looks down at it. “Now it’s official,” she murmurs, her voice filled with awe as she squeezes your hand, her thumb brushing over the ring. “I’m yours.”

And then she pulls you down beside her again, holding you tightly as if afraid to let go, your shared laughter eventually quieting into soft murmurs as the two of you lie tangled together, fingers intertwined, hearts racing, your promises shining just as bright as the stars above.

#jinx arcane #jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #arcane jinx #jinx/you #jinx x fem!reader #jinx posting #jinx league of legends

664 notes · View notes

v6quewrlds · 2 months ago

Text

❝ infinity, j. burrow. ❞ ‎ ‎ ┉

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀summary: the bengals suffer a devastating loss against the eagles. it takes everything within you to face joe, hoping you'll be able to remind him of his worth.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀author's note: wrote this so fast as soon as the request came in. ty to anon for requesting <3 it's a little sad. i'm gonna be honest, part of me wanted to write an argument where the guy wasn't throwing shit and breaking stuff. the other stuff was secondary lmao. another installment to the joe is a munch agenda.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀warnings: smut, please do not interact with my work if you are under 18. language, established but unlabeled relationship, sad!joey, he raises his voice but gets put right back in line, shower sex, kind of a pity fuck but we ball, romantic doggy style, cunnilingus, cum eating???, apologies as foreplay, sappy couple activities.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀pairing: joe burrow x reader.

‎ ‎ ⁎⠀┉⠀word count: 6.9k.

The stadium lights shone like a beacon of hope in a sea of despair, as the final whistle blew and the crowd's roar faded into a disheartened murmur. The Cincinnati Bengals had lost to the Eagles in a game that had started out so promisingly. You felt the weight of the loss in the air, thick and palpable, as you sat in the Burrow family suite, your eyes locked on the field. You knew Joe wouldn't be coming up to join you with a victory smile tonight.

As the players trickled off the field, you hugged Robin and Jimmy goodbye, the tension etched in their faces mirroring the tension coiled in your chest. They whispered their sympathy and concern for their son's mood before heading out to face the gauntlet of traffic. Your gaze followed them, watching as they disappeared into the throng of fans, and you couldn't help but feel a twinge of envy for their escape. You knew Joe would be less than pleasant after a game like this, and you steeled yourself for the long night ahead.

The family reception area was a hum of disappointed chatter and forced smiles, but your eyes remained glued to the TV broadcasting Joe's post-game press conference. You saw the tightness in his jaw, the furrow in his brow, and the way he clenched his fists when asked about the second half's collapse. Your heart went out to him, and you hoped that once you were alone, he would let you in, let you help him bear the brunt of his emotions.

You couldn't bear to watch as Joe lifted himself from the press chair to retreat back to the locker room. You waited, sipping on a warm soda that had gone flat, feeling the condensation slip down your hand and pool at your fingertips. The other girlfriends and wives offered you words of support, but you knew their hands were full with their own distressed partners. You were on your own in this.

A delicate hand rested on your shoulder, and you turned to see the concerned face of Chase Brown's girlfriend, whose name you couldn't quite recall in the haze of the angsty loss. The shorter woman offered a small, understanding smile. "It's going to be okay," she murmured. "They’re all pros. They’ll bounce back." You nodded, mustering a smile of your own. But you knew it wasn't just the game weighing on Joe. It was the pressure, the expectations, and the unspoken fears that came with being at the top.

The minutes dragged on, turning into what felt like hours, before the locker room doors swung open and a parade of burly, ego-bruised men began to make their way out. They were a mix of anger and defeat, each one avoiding eye contact with the small group of women waiting patiently. Your eyes darted to each face, searching for the one you knew so well, the one that could bring you a semblance of peace in this chaotic aftermath. He remained elusive, a ghost in the shadows of his own misery.

Your heart hammered in your chest, lip nervously bitten raw as you watched the locker room door swing open and shut with the rhythm of the exiting players. Your eyes searched the crowd, locking with the weary eyes of the coaches who offered you a nod of sympathy. Each nod felt like a punch to the gut, reinforcing the gravity of Joe's mood. When the hallways grew quiet, you remained the sole family member standing. The emptiness of the reception area echoed the silence in your chest.

After several empty minutes that stretched on toward forever, a Bengals staff member approached you. "Ma'am," he said, his voice thick with understanding, "Joe requested that I bring you to the locker room." You nodded, swallowed the lump in your throat, and followed the man down the corridor. The air grew denser with each step, the scent of sweat and defeat growing stronger. When you reached the locker room, Joe was exactly where you had imagined he would be: slumped over his locker, staring into the abyss of his open duffle bag.

The moment your eyes met, you saw his shoulders tense and you knew he was fighting to keep his emotions in check. "You ready?" You asked, your voice soft and gentle. He didn't answer, just looked up at you with a mix of anger and defeat that made you want to wrap him in a warm embrace and whisk him away from all of this.

As you stepped closer, Joe stood up, and you could see the exhaustion etched into his features. "Let's get the fuck out of here," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The harshness of his words stung, but you knew it was the pain talking. You took his hand in yours, giving it a gentle squeeze.

The two of you walked side by side through the exit path of the stadium, the clack of your footsteps echoing off the cold, concrete walls. You tried to fill the silence with gentle inquiries, but Joe remained tight-lipped, his jaw set in a firm line of anger. His hand felt clammy in yours, a contrast to the warmth of his usual touch. When you reached the car, he paused, his hand hovering over the handle. He looked at you, his blue eyes stormy with unspoken emotions.

"Do you mind driving?" he asked, his tone a mix of apology and defeat. You nodded, understanding that he needed the time and space to process. You slid into the driver's seat, your eyes gently sweeping over his tired form as he slipped into the passenger seat. The engine purred to life, and you pulled out of the parking lot, steering the two of you homeward through the deserted Cincinnati streets.

The silence in the car was heavy, broken only by the occasional hiss of the tires against the damp asphalt. Your thoughts raced, trying to find the right words to ease Joe's pain without triggering his already frayed nerves. You knew he was a man of few words, especially when he was hurt, but you had to try. "You played your heart out tonight, Joe," you said, your voice low and soothing. "The team will learn from this."

Joe's gaze remained fixed out the window, the streetlights casting shadows on his profile. "It's not just the game, babe," he finally said, his voice tight. "It's everything. The pressure, the criticism, the feeling that no matter what I do, it's never enough."

You squeezed his hand, your eyes never leaving the road. "You're more than enough, Joe," you said firmly. "They haven't given you much help since '22. It's a miracle you've taken them this far." Your words hung in the air, unanswered, but you could feel the tension in his body ease slightly.

Once you arrived home, Joe remained in the car, his hand still in yours. You waited, giving him the space he needed to gather himself. When he finally opened the door, you followed suit, the cool night air a welcome relief from the stifling atmosphere in the car. As the two of you stepped into your quiet home, Joe's shoulders slumped and he let out a heavy sigh. You could feel the weight of his frustration, his eyes still holding the storm of his emotions.

Without a word, you led him into the living room, gesturing for him to sit on the plush couch. He sank into it, his eyes remained closed as you headed off towards the kitchen. You reached for one of the few beers stored in the fridge, figuring he could break his strict diet in the shadow of such a crushing loss. You handed him one, and as the cap twisted off, the sound echoed in the silence. He took a long pull, the tension in his throat bobbing with the effort of swallowing.

You sat down next to him, your hand resting on his knee, waiting patiently for him to speak. It was a dance you had done before, the aftermath of a tough game. The living room, usually a sanctuary of laughter and comfort, was now a battlefield of unspoken words and heavy sighs. The TV remained off, the only illumination coming from the moonlight that filtered through the blinds.

Finally, Joe opened his eyes, looking at you with a mix of anger and sadness. "We had them," he said, his voice gruff with emotion. "We had the game in the bag and we let them take it." His eyes searched yours, looking for understanding, for validation. You leaned in closer, your hand moving to rest on his shoulder.

"You did everything you could," you said softly. "Sometimes, it's not all on you."

Joe's eyes searched yours, looking for a sign of doubt, but your gaze was steadfast. You knew he was a man who took his losses hard, especially when it came to football. It was his sanctuary, his escape from the world, and when it crumbled around him, it was like watching a piece of him break.

He took another sip of his beer, his eyes focused on the floor "It's not just the game," he repeated. "It's the whispers, the doubt. Everyone's watching me, expecting me to be Superman, and when I'm not, they tear me apart." Your heart ached for him, knowing he felt like the world was on his shoulders.

"You're human, Joe," you whispered, your voice filled with compassion. "You're allowed to have a bad day."

Joe's gaze met yours, his eyes searching for solace in the depths of your warm brown irises. He knew you were right, but it didn't make the sting of defeat any less potent. He took another deep breath, his chest rising and falling heavily. "But that's the point. I didn't have a bad day. I haven't had a bad day since I fractured my wrist." His words were laced with frustration, and you could feel the anger bubbling just beneath the surface.

You kept silent, watching as he stood up from the couch with a sudden jerk. "Dammit," he cursed, the bottle of beer clutched tightly in his hand. "I can't do this anymore." He began to pace, his long strides eating up the space in the room.

"Do what?" You asked, your voice calm and measured.

Joe's eyes flashed with anger, his pacing growing more agitated. "I can't keep carrying this team on my back," he said, his voice rising. "The front office, the coaches, they all expect miracles, and when I don't deliver because I have no help on the other end, it's like I've failed them." He stopped and turned to you, his expression desperate. "I'm tired of it."

Your heart ached with love for Joe. You knew the pressure he was under, knew the kind of man he was. A man who took every loss personally, who never blamed his teammates even when they deserved it. "You haven't failed, Joe," you said, your voice firm and unwavering. "You've done everything they've asked of you and more. You can't control everything out there on the field."

But Joe was on a roll, his emotions spilling out like a dam that had been holding back a flood for too long. "They expect me to be perfect, and when I'm not, it's like the world's ending," he continued, his voice rising with every word. "And what do I get for it? I get fuckin' thrown out there to face the press and tell them we're working on it, we're gonna fix it." He slammed the beer bottle down on the coffee table, the sound echoing through the room.

Your eyes widened at his outburst, the fear of his anger turning into something more volatile rising in your chest. But you remained calm, your voice a gentle reprieve from the storm raging inside Joe. "They're just doing their job," you offered. "They don't mean to put it all on you. You're just an easy target."

Joe scoffed, turning away from you. "Easy target? That's all I am to them. A face to put on the cover of the Bengals' shit show." His hands balled into fists at his sides, his knuckles turning white.

You stood, moving closer to him, your hand reaching out to touch his arm. "Joe, you need to take a deep breath. You're working yourself up over this."

Joe spun around, his eyes flashing. "You don't get it!" he snapped, and you took a step back, your hand dropping to your side. It was a line the two of you had never crossed before, the sound of his raised voice a crushing reminder of the unspoken rule you had both agreed upon.

For a moment, the room was still, the only sound the distant hum of the city outside your windows. Then Joe's shoulders dropped, and the anger drained from his face, leaving only a tired, defeated man. "I'm sorry," he murmured, his voice cracking. "I didn't mean to yell."

"But you did," you said softly, your voice tinged with a hint of sadness. "And that's not how we agreed to handle things." You didn't mean to be harsh, but you needed him to understand that his behavior had crossed a line. "I know you're upset, Joe. But I can't be your punching bag. I'm not the reason why you're angry."

Joe's took a deep breath, his chest deflating as he nodded slowly, regret etched on his face. "You're right. I'm sorry." He stepped closer, reaching for you, but you stepped back out of his grasp, needing a moment to collect yourself.

"I know you're hurt and frustrated, but that's not an excuse," you said, your voice firm but gentle. "I'm here for you, but I need you to talk to me, not at me."

Joe's gaze dropped to the floor, his eyes brimming with regret. He took a deep breath, his chest heaving with the effort to keep his emotions in check. "You're right," he murmured. "I'm sorry." He reached out to you again, this time with a softness that you recognized. You let out a sigh of relief, letting yourself be drawn into his embrace. He held you tight, his body trembling slightly with the weight of his apology.

"It's okay," you whispered, stroking his hair. "I know it's hard. And I'm sorry this is what you're dealing with."

Joe nodded into your embrace, his breaths slowly evening out.

"I'm going to take a shower, okay?" You said, pulling away from Joe's embrace. "I need a moment to think." You didn't wait for his response, heading upstairs to your bedroom. You could feel his eyes on your back, heavy with regret and sadness.

In the bathroom, you turned the shower knob, letting the hot water cascade over you. The steam filled the room, wrapping around you like a warm blanket, but it couldn't wash away the tension that clung to you like a second skin. You stepped under the spray, letting the water beat down on you, the sound of it a white noise that drowned out the world outside. You felt the tightness in your muscles begin to ease as the heat seeped into your bones.

Midway through your shower, the bathroom door creaked open. Your heart skipped a beat, expecting Joe to come in, apologize again, but instead, you felt his hands on your waist, his body pressing against yours. You tensed, ready to pull away, but when he whispered, "I'm sorry," into your ear, you melted into his touch. His warm skin settled against your wet skin, and you allowed yourself to be held, to be a source of comfort for him.

The water rained down on the two of you as Joe's hands began to move over your body, his gentle touch soothing your nerves. His lips found the crook of your neck, kissing tenderly, and you closed your eyes, letting his apology wash over you. The loofah in his hand glided across your skin, scrubbing away the sweat and anxiety from the game, and with it, the tension of the evening.

"I'm sorry," Joe murmured again, his voice barely audible over the shower. "I shouldn't have snapped." His hands moved to your shoulders, his thumbs pressing into the taut muscles, trying to ease the knots of your frustration.

You leaned into his touch, your eyes closed. "It's okay," you said, your voice wavering slightly. "We all have our moments." Joe's grip tightened, and you could feel his need to be closer, to erase the space between you.

"What did you think of the game?" Joe asked, his voice a gentle rumble in the confines of the shower. You could feel the tension in his body as he worked to scrub away the physical and emotional grime of the loss.

"You played hard, like you always do," you replied, your voice echoing off the tiles. "But the team's chemistry was off. On both sides of the ball." You knew Joe didn't need to hear about the interceptions or the fumbles, but rather, the underlying issues that had led to their defeat.

"Yeah, I could feel it," Joe mumbled, his voice tight with frustration. "It's like we forgot how to play as a team." You nodded, your eyes still closed as Joe's hands moved down your back, tracing the lines of your spine. "They're relying on you too much," you said, your voice firm. "You can't do everything on your own."

The loofah stilled for a moment, and you felt Joe's chest expand with a deep breath. Deciding to continue delivering your thoughts, you sighed and said, "The secondary needs to step up, and the coaches need to get their act together." The warmth of his hands resumed their gentle massage, a silent acknowledgment of your words.

"I know," Joe murmured, his voice thick with frustration. "It's just..." He trailed off, unable to find the words. You knew his thoughts well, the pressure of being a quarterback, the weight of a city's hopes and dreams on his shoulders.

When the two of you met, Joe was a 3rd string quarterback with no chance of touching a football during a game at Ohio State. You, a nutrition major, found his quiet confidence fascinating. As you grew closer, you saw the fiery competitiveness that fueled his ambition. When he told you he was transferring to Louisiana State with a real chance at being QB1, you knew it was a risk well worth taking. His meteoric rise to not only a National Championship but the Heisman and the first overall pick in the NFL Draft only proved the belief you had in him from the beginning. You weren't supposed to be here together, with Joe the face of an NFL franchise. But here you were, navigating the tumultuous waters of professional sports and superfame.

But tonight, as the hot water streamed over your bodies, the reality of your situation crashed down on Joe like a heavy wave. "I'm just tired of being the scapegoat," he whispered against your neck, his breath hot and urgent. "They expect me to be perfect, and when I'm not, it's all on me." Your heart broke a little more with each word, knowing he was right but hating that he felt that way.

"You're not a scapegoat, Joe," you said, turning in his arms to face him. "You're the best thing that's happened to this team in years." The sincerity in your eyes was unmistakable. "They just need to realize that you and Ja'Marr aren't enough to win games by yourselves."

Joe's expression softened, his eyes searching yours. "I know," he said, his voice barely a murmur. "But it's hard not to feel like it sometimes." You nodded, understanding his pain. "Let's not talk about the game anymore," you said, leaning in to kiss him gently. "You need to relax."

He pulled you closer, his hands moving over your body with a new urgency, the tension in his muscles giving way to a different kind of need. You could feel his desire, his desperation to connect with you, to lose himself in something that wasn't football. You kissed him back, your own needs rising to the surface.

The loofah fell to the shower floor, forgotten, as your hands found each other's bodies, exploring and reassuring. The steam grew thicker, wrapping the two of you in a cocoon of heat and wetness, the outside world fading away. You kissed with a passion that was both fiery and tender, your bodies moving in a silent dance of apology and understanding.

You felt Joe's hands move to your hips, pulling you closer, his arousal unmistakable against you. You wrapped your legs around his waist, your own desire matching his, as you found solace in the intimacy of your shared space. The water washed away the tension of the game, your movements becoming more urgent, more primal.

"Take your frustrations out on me," you murmured against his ear, your breath hot and needy. Joe's response was to push you against the cool tiles, his hands roaming over your wet body, exploring every curve and crevice. He kissed you with a hunger that spoke volumes of his need for release.

Without hesitation, Joe's hands found your breasts, his thumbs brushing against your hardened nipples. You gasped, your eyes closing as sensations of pleasure shot through your body. His mouth moved from your neck to your chest, kissing and sucking, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. Your own hands were busy, sliding down his back, feeling the taut muscles beneath his skin, your nails digging in slightly as you urged him closer.

Your kisses grew deeper, more demanding, as the water continued to beat down on you. Your legs tightened around Joe's waist, pulling him closer, feeling his erection pressing against you. The sound of your bodies colliding against the tiles filled the small space, echoing off the walls. You were lost in each other, the pain of the loss momentarily forgotten.

Joe's hand slid down your body, finding the apex of your thighs. He teased you gently at first, his thumb brushing through your slick folds as you moaned into his mouth. Your hips rolled into his touch, seeking more. He groaned, his own desire spiking at your responsiveness.

With a swift move, Joe lifted you off the tiles, carrying you out of the shower, water still cascading off your bodies. He sat you on top of the bathroom counter, not caring about the wetness. His need for you was all-consuming, a fiery hunger that only you could satiate. You watched him with half-lidded eyes, your breaths coming in short pants as his hands slid over you, exploring every inch of your wet skin.

Your kisses grew more urgent as Joe's fingers delved into you, finding you already slick with desire. Your back arched, a keening cry escaping your lips as he touched you with a precision that spoke of a deep, intimate knowledge. His other hand cupped your face, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw as he whispered sweet nothings into your ear. You could feel his own need, his cock pressing in between your spread thighs, demanding entry.

"Fuck me," you breathed, your voice a low, urgent plea as Joe's touch brought you to the brink of ecstasy. You could feel the tension in his body, the anger and frustration that had been building all night, now redirected into a passion that was as intense as it was raw. He didn't respond verbally, instead choosing to show you with his actions that he heard you. He slid into you with a smoothness that contrasted his desperation, filling you completely.

You each sighed at the feeling of Joe stretching your pussy open, a silent acknowledgment of the connection you shared, a bond that transcended the game, the expectations, the disappointments. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your legs locking around his waist as he began to move inside you. Each stroke was a declaration of his need, a silent apology for his earlier outburst, and a promise to be there for you.

Your bodies moved in rhythm, the sound of your skin slapping together mixing with your muffled moans and gasps. Your breath hitched as Joe's cock hit just the right spot, sending waves of pleasure through your core. You rocked your hips against him, urging him deeper, faster, your arms wrapped around his shoulders, fingers tugging at his dirty blonde hair. His gaze was intense as it held yours, the blue of his eyes almost black in the dim light, his pupils blown with desire.

Joe's mouth trailed kisses down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, making you shiver with excitement. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements, urging you closer to the edge. His own need was palpable, his breathing harsh and erratic as he thrust into you with a fervor that was both aggressive and tender.

"You're so wet," Joe growled, his voice thick with lust, as he pumped into you. You could feel his muscles tense with every thrust, the power behind each one a stark contrast to his gentle strokes from earlier. "So fucking wet for me."

Your nails dug into his back, urging him on. "Yes, Joey," you moaned. "Take it out on me." Your words were a catalyst, pushing him past his limits. He slammed into you, the sound of your bodies colliding echoing through the bathroom.

Your eyes never left each other as Joe's pace grew more frenzied, his strokes more demanding. Your head fell back, your eyes rolling back as the tip of his cock nudged at that soft muscle inside you that made your legs shake. Your walls tightened around him, a silent plea for more.

"You like that, don't you?" Joe grunted, his voice a gruff rumble that sent shivers down your spine. You nodded, your eyes fluttering closed as you moaned brokenly in response. His hand found the side of your face, tilting it to meet his gaze, the intensity in his eyes burning into your soul.

"Fuck yes, I do," you managed to gasp, your voice breathless with need. The feeling of Joe's thick cock filling you up was heavenly, the friction causing a delicious burn. You felt his thumb pressing against the side of your throat, a gesture that usually sent you over the edge, but tonight, you were holding onto the precipice, needing the climax to wash away the sting of his earlier words.

"Oh, baby, yes," you panted, your breaths coming in quick gasps. "Right there." The sensation was almost too much, but you craved it, needed it, to drown out the noise from the evening's loss. Joe's eyes darkened with hunger, and he pushed harder, deeper, hitting your g-spot with unwavering precision.

"I'm so sorry for earlier," Joe murmured, his voice a raw, passionate whisper. "You mean everything to me." His movements grew more deliberate, his eyes never leaving yours as he worked to bring you to climax. You felt the walls of your pussy clench around him, your orgasm building with every stroke.

"You're always so good to me," you breathed, your voice a sweet symphony of pleasure. "Don't ever doubt that."

Your words hit Joe like a sucker punch to the gut, the weight of his emotions suddenly too much to bear. He kissed you again, a deep, desperate kiss that conveyed every ounce of his love and regret. His thrusts grew erratic, his body trembling with the effort to hold back his release. Your eyes widened with understanding, and you leaned in, whispering sweet nothings into his ear as you matched his rhythm, your body moving in perfect sync with his.

"I'll spend every second of the rest of my life making it up to you," Joe said between ragged breaths, his eyes searching yours for forgiveness. You knew he meant it, that his love was as unshakable as the determination that made him the star quarterback he was.

Your own climax was building, the pressure in your core growing with every thrust. You could feel Joe's cock swell even more, his grip on your hips tightening. The world outside your bubble of passion didn't matter anymore. Only this moment, your connection, your love, and the release that was so close.

"I forgive you," you whispered, your eyes brimming with emotion as you felt the beginnings of your climax. You squeezed your eyes shut, your body tightening around Joe's cock, your pussy fluttering with each stroke. "Can't help it when you make me feel so good," you added with a small, breathless laugh.

The sound of Joe's harsh breathing filled your ears as he drove into you, his movements becoming more frantic. You could feel the tension in his body, the need to come, to let go of the anger and the pain. You tightened your legs around him, your heels digging into his firm ass as you urged him on with your moans. Your bare chests pressed against each other, gasping desperately into each other's open mouths as your inaccurate, sloppy kisses grew more feverish.

"I need you to come, baby," Joe groaned into your ear, his voice desperate. "Need to make it up to you."

You felt the tension coiling in her belly, the heat of Joe's breath on your skin setting your nerves alight. You knew he was close, could feel his cock pulsing inside you. With one final, powerful thrust, Joe's grip on your hips tightened, and he came with a roar, filling you with his hot, thick release.

Joe's movements slowed, his cock still pulsing inside you, his breathing ragged as he kissed along your neck. You giggled softly, the tension of the evening finally beginning to dissipate. "I've got you," you murmured, stroking his hair gently as he caught his breath. "You don't have to make it up to me."

With a final, lingering kiss, Joe pulled out of you, the connection breaking with a slick pop. He stepped back, his gaze lingering on your brown skin and the way your chest heaved with every breath you took. "But I want to," he said, his voice still thick with passion. "I need to."

You nodded softly as your hands reached up to cup Joe's face, your thumbs tracing the lines of his cheekbones. "I know you do, baby," you said gently. You leaned in to kiss him, your love washing over him with a gentle warmth that seemed to seep into his bones. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you close as your kiss grew more intense, his tongue slipping into your mouth, tangling with yours.

"Gonna eat you out until you can't think straight," Joe said, his voice gruff with lust as he lifted you off the counter, setting you feet down gently onto the plush bath mat then turning you to face the mirror on top of the counter. He dropped to his knees before you, his eyes tracing over your smooth skin as he kissed your spine, your thighs. You felt your legs wobble slightly, but you remained standing, your hands planted firmly on the counter for balance.

Joe's tongue traced a line up your inner thigh, the sensation causing you to quiver with anticipation. His hand found your ass cheek first, giving it a gentle squeeze before moving to the back of her thigh, urging your legs apart. Your breath hitched as his warm breath danced over your folds, the anticipation of his touch almost too much to handle.

"We taste so good together, baby," Joe murmured, his tongue darting out to tease your clit. Your head fell back, a soft moan escaping your lips as he began to feast on you. His tongue flicked and circled, his mouth suckling you in a way that sent waves of pleasure crashing through your body. You could feel yourself getting wetter, your juices mixing in with his cum still leaking from your aroused pussy.

The feeling of Joe's mouth on you was almost too much, the intimacy of the moment washing away the last remnants of the day's anger and frustration. Your legs began to shake, your breaths coming in short gasps as Joe's mouth worked its magic. You watched the movement of his head in the mirror, his eyes closed in concentration, his cheeks hollowing as he took you in.

Joe's tongue slid into you, the sensation so intense you had to bite your bottom lip to keep from screaming. Your nails dug into the countertop, the pain grounding you as you felt your orgasm building again. He knew exactly how to touch you, how to make you forget everything except the heat between the two of you. Your hips began to rock against his mouth, your body begging for release.

"Yes," you moaned, your voice echoing off the bathroom walls. "Just like that, Joey."

Joe's eyes snapped open, looking up at you through the wet strands of his hair, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watched you unravel. His tongue delved deeper, exploring your warmth, savoring your taste.

"I'm gonna make you come so hard," Joe whispered against you, his breath hot on your sensitive skin. You felt his tongue swirl around your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud before his mouth closed around it, sucking hard. You couldn't hold back the moan that tore from your throat, the sound echoing off the walls of the bathroom as you shuddered with pleasure.

"Shit—I'm gonna come," you whimpered, your knees buckling slightly as Joe's mouth worked its magic. He held you steady, his simultaneously pushing you firmly against the counter and keeping your ass spread wide for him, his mouth unrelenting. You felt your climax build, a crescendo of pleasure that seemed to go on forever.

"Keep doing that," you panted, your body quivering as Joe's skilled tongue danced against your clit. You leaned heavily on the counter, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt the orgasm build, the tension in your thighs and stomach tightening. Joe's grip on your legs was firm, his mouth relentless as he brought you closer to the edge.

Joe whispered against you again, "Love eating this perfect pussy, love making you come," and your eyes rolled back in your head, the sensation of his mouth on your clit overwhelming. The pressure grew unbearable, your legs trembling as you held onto the counter for dear life.

"Yes," you hissed through clenched teeth, your hips jerking in response to Joe's skilled movements. The pressure built higher and higher until you couldn’t take it anymore. With a strangled cry, you came, your body convulsing in the throes of ecstasy. Joe didn't stop, continuing to lick and suck, drawing out your orgasm until you were left panting and boneless against the counter.

He licked you through your orgasm, savoring the taste of your mixed pleasures as you trembled under his touch. Your legs gave out, and Joe supported your weight from his spot on the floor, his face still buried between your thighs. You leaned into him, your breath coming in ragged gasps, your body still pulsing with the aftershocks of your climax. With a final, lingering kiss to your sensitive clit, Joe stood up, his eyes locking with yours in the mirror. You felt the heat of embarrassment under his gaze, your heart racing from the intensity of yiur lovemaking. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice hoarse from your moans.

"Don't thank me," Joe said, his own voice thick with emotion. You laughed softly as his tongue darted out in an attempt to capture one last taste of you. "Let me help you clean up," you offered, turning in his arms. Your thumbs wiped the corners of his mouth, smearing a bit of your juices onto his cheeks. He caught your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm before letting it go.

The two of you stepped back into the shower, the warm water cascading over your bodies, washing away the evidence of your passion. You took the loofah from the shower caddy, lathering it with Joe's favorite scented body wash—yours. You began to run it over his chest, your touch gentle as you worked your way down his body. His muscles relaxed under your ministrations, the tension of the evening dissipating with each stroke.

Joe's eyes remained on you, watching your movements with a quiet contentment that you hadn't seen in several long weeks. "You okay?" you asked softly, your voice echoing in the shower.

"Better," Joe murmured, his gaze dropping to your breasts, the water cascading over you, mixing with the soap. "Much better." He stepped closer, pressing you against the cold tiles, his hands taking the loofah from you. As the last of the soap fell from your bodies, Joe placed the loofah back in its caddy, his arms wrapping around your waist as he claimed your mouth in a searing kiss. You felt your toes curl into the mat, your body responding to him without hesitation.

Your heated kisses waned off into slow pecks and gentle nibbles as the warm water rinsed the soap away. Joe's hands trailed down your sides, tracing the curves of your body with a tenderness that made your heart swell with affection. He whispered sweet words into your ear, his breath tickling your neck, and you felt a smile bloom on your lips as you leaned into him, your bodies fitting together perfectly.

"Mmm," you murmured, your eyes half-lidded with contentment as Joe's hands roamed your body. He took his time, savoring your curves, his thumbs grazing the sides of your breasts and sending shivers down your spine. Your own hands slid over his shoulders, feeling the strength and power beneath your fingertips, a physical reminder of the man you loved. There was no heat to your movements, no rush of sexual longing. Instead, it was a gentle exploration, a silent reassurance that you two were okay.

"You're so beautiful," Joe murmured against your skin, his voice a low rumble that sent warmth pooling in your belly.

You chuckled, leaning your head against his chest. "You always say that."

"Because it's always true," Joe said, his voice firm. He kissed the top of your head, holding you close. You stood like that for a moment, the water falling over you. The anger and frustration of the evening had morphed into a gentle affection that filled the small space, dispelling any lingering tension.

The two of you finished showering, toweling off and wrapping yourselves in the plush robes that hung on the back of the door. As you brushed your teeth and ran through your individual night routines, Joe couldn't help but watch you move in the mirror. Your eyes sparkled with a softness that seemed to warm the room, and the way you moved, even in something as mundane as brushing your teeth, was mesmerizing.

Once you were both ready for bed, you crawled in, Joe pulling you into his arms. You lay there for a while, your legs entwined, just holding each other and listening to the steady beat of each other's hearts. The silence was comfortable, a stark contrast to the earlier chaos of emotions. You felt Joe's hand run down your side, his thumb tracing the curve of your waist before resting on your hip. You knew he was still thinking about the game, about his performance, but you didn't push. Instead, you offered your warmth.

"You know you played your best," you said after a few moments, your voice soothing as you stroked his chest. "It's just one game, Joe. You'll keep working, keep getting better."

Joe sighed, his blue eyes closed in an attempt to reach sleep. "I know," he said, his voice tight with exhaustion. "But I hate letting down the team, the fans, you."

You turned to face him, your hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "You didn't let anyone down," you said firmly. "Sometimes, things just don't go as planned. It's not your fault."

Joe nodded, his eyes searching yours, looking for the reassurance he desperately needed. "Thanks, baby," he murmured, his voice soft with emotion. "I love you."

You leaned in and kissed him gently, your lips a gentle balm to his bruised ego. "You know I love you, too," you said, your voice a gentle whisper. "And I'm in this for the long haul. Win or lose, I'll be here for pity fucks and cuddles. Whatever you need."

Joe couldn't help but chuckle, the tension in the room dissipating like mist in the sun. "Pity fucks, huh?" He teased, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.

"Well, when you put it like that, it sounds kind of sad," you smirked, poking him lightly in the ribs. Joe's chuckle grew into a full-blown laugh, his shoulders shaking with the force of it. The sound was music to your ears, a melody of relief after the storm of emotions.

"Go to sleep, Joey. Tomorrow's a new day, and you're going to need your rest," you said, your voice soothing as you stroked his chest. Joe nodded, his eyes already drooping with exhaustion. The two of you lay there, your bodies entangled, until sleep claimed you both.

#&. cassie writes.#joe burrow x reader #joe burrow #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow imagine #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow bengals #joeyb #cincinnati bengals #bengals #x black fem reader #black!fem!reader #black!reader #x black reader

1K notes · View notes